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gothcsz · 4 months ago

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imagine javier peña as a pornstar holy shit-

Summary: You're a camerawoman that shoots pornos. Javi's the pornstar you can't stand. So why is it that you're so affected by him during this honeymoon scene between him and his co-star?

Tags: smut, voyeurism(?), unprotected p in v sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), oral (m receiving), no use of Y/N, reader doesn't fuck javi in this i'm sorry, yes it's steve murphy as the sound guy, unbeta'd asf we're here for the dirty vibes, other shit i’m probably forgetting.

A/N: well my beloved, this spiraled into something i wasn't expecting but i hope you enjoy, hehe 🖤 shoutout to my lovely mutual @almostempty for summoning the threesome demon that inspired me to finish this.

You’re not a prude. Sex isn’t aversive to you. And you suppose it can’t be considering what it is that you do for work.

A camerawoman for dirty films. Not a director, just the lucky girl that points and shoots. It’s not a bad gig, even though sometimes you do wish it paid a little more. Then you’d be able to drop your bartending job.

Recording people fucking all day then tending the bar all night, you rarely ever have time for yourself or any of the hobbies that you’ve attempted to start but haven’t nurtured simply because there aren’t enough hours in the day.

During your downtime, you’re either sleeping or tending to your shit apartment that’s conveniently located above Lucky’s–– your night job. The only reason you can afford to live in Los Angeles is because of the cheap rent there and well, beggars can’t be choosers.

You hit the button on the elevator, currently taking you to the sixth floor of the surprisingly nice hotel the production company has booked a room in for tonight’s shoot.

Once you make it to room 606, you’re greeted by Steve, the sound guy. “You’re early.”

“Daddy got us a new toy and I wanted to test it out before we shot.” There’s a playful smile on your lips as you carefully show off the brand new camera bag with the device inside.

Steve whistles lowly, stepping aside to let you into the room. Looks very typical. Nice, grand bed in the center of the space. Desk, television stand, blah blah blah, and a bar cart.

You suavely make your way towards it, eyeing the small bottles that littered the glass top.

“Surprised you even got that thing. He’s as cheap as they come.”

You shrug, uncapping the small Fireball plastic bottle and swiftly downing it, the burn familiar and taste delicious. “I know, but considering how much money we’re making him, maybe he’s starting to realize our worth.”

You both share a knowing look then laugh. As if. That man would find any way to cut a corner. It’s honestly surprising how well his pornos do.

“Who are we shooting today?” You ask casually, beginning to set out the camera and all its attachments neatly on the desk.

“Lexxie Gold and…” He trails off, lanky form walking over to where his equipment is half set up, pulling out a tattered notebook that he flips through until he lands on the intended page. “Javier Peña.”

You can’t help the grimace that crosses over your face. Great. You’ve shot Peña a few times, each with a story that reminds you how much you dislike the guy.

Sure he seems to be a good fuck— but man was he cocky, annoying, and so damn full of himself.

Just because you have the biggest dick in the world, doesn’t mean you have to act like one.

“How fun.” Your sarcasm isn’t lost on the blonde man across from you and he doesn’t press— knowing you don’t get along with the star.

You curiously start messing around with the camera, flitting through its different settings, taking random videos of Steve as he finishes setting up while you chastise him playfully from the other side.

Your fucking around is disrupted by a heavy knock on the door then the familiar voice of your boss and the director, Robbie, and you let him in with a brief hey.

The scene is simple enough: a honeymoon. How romantic. He wants to focus on close ups, hence why he bought the new camera.

“Gotta show them how pretty and erotic it really is.”

“I don’t really think they’re watching for the riveting cinematography.”

He shoots you a look and you raise your arms defensively before shrugging your shoulders and getting back to making some last minute camera adjustments.

Steve helps you finish dressing the place up, making the hotel room look like a lover’s getaway. Rose petals everywhere, moody lighting, it helps that the sun has fully set to really set the scene.

Not long after do Lexxie and Javier show up, his arm thrown around her shoulders, seemingly having met up on the ride up the elevator. She’s giggling over something he’s whispered in her ear, pushing at his chest playfully.

You suppose that’s why he’s so good at what he does— that goddamn charisma that seems to charm the underwear off of any woman, hell even some men, that cross his path.

His chemistry with his co-stars is what’s made him so popular in the industry. Aside from his appearance: cut jaw, full and fitting pornstache, golden lean body and nice cock; Javier ate pussy like his life depended on it and fucked women into oblivion— he usually ended up leaving set with one on his arm.

You remember one time his prowess had been so magnetizing, that he ended up taking the makeup artist home. The fucking makeup artist.

But things with you are different, somehow. You can feel it, he can too. Maybe it’s because you’re a no bullshit type of person that just shows up to do your job then you’re out.

In the beginning, he had attempted to flirt with you, but you weren’t really in the market to reciprocate.

A shock to anyone who meets him because what do you mean you didn’t jump at the chance to be charmed by Javier Peña?

You don’t mix business with pleasure, no matter if the pleasure seems to outweigh the business.

And since then he’s made it his life’s mission, it feels like, to push your buttons until you’re lit up like a fucking soundboard.

The flirting, petty comments, sometimes weaponized incompetence just to get you to move the camera into a more desirable position for him— yeah it really irks you.

With it being a simple, smaller shoot today: it’s only you, the director, Steve and the two stars in the room.

As Lexxie finishes doing some last minute touch ups in the bathroom, Steve and Robbie head out to the balcony for a quick smoke, leaving you in the room with Javier as he checks his appearance in the full-length mirror by your equipment.

The shoot is starting with them already half undressed, so he’s got an unbuttoned white collared shirt on, his toned chest on full display, with a pair of dress pants hanging low on his hips. He’s not wearing underwear, so you get a peek of the prominent V of his pelvis and the enticing trail of dark hair leading below the fabric.

Goddamn him.

“Lookin’ like somethin’ crawled up your ass and died, sweetheart. All good?” He asks, no real concern in his voice but the typical condescending tone he uses when he speaks to you.

You ignore him, wiping off the lens of your camera, lowkey wanting to down another small bottle of liquor.

“It’s rude not to speak when you’re spoken to.”

“What do you want me to say? I’m not exactly thrilled to have your balls slapping against my new camera.”

He smirks at the bite in your voice, “With the amount of times you’ve seen my sack, I figured you’d be used to that by now.” You roll your eyes and bite your tongue because he’s right and that wasn’t the best retort you could have given him.

You’ll admit, sometimes his attractiveness throws you off and that only pisses you off further.

“New camera, huh?” His eyes meet yours in the reflection, thick brows raising in amusement, “Honored to be the one to christen it. ‘Specially with Lexxie.” He whistles lowly, brown eyes flickering over to the cracked door of the bathroom, “She’s a sexy little thing, isn’t she?”

You ignore him again so you don’t get tongue tied by trying to outwit him, breathing out a sigh of relief when Steve and your boss reenter and the older man begins to throw out orders for everyone to follow.

“I want this to feel real. Aside from the close ups, I need some filthy, dirty talk. Sell it, make those horny bastards bust their load over the believable newlyweds.”

Lexxie is leaning against the doorway to the bathroom, a beautiful white lingerie set on her curvy body, obscured by a silk robe.

You’re both jealous of her for looking so goddamn pretty and jealous of Javier for having the pleasure of getting to fuck her.

“We’re not amateurs, Robbie.”

Okay, so maybe Javier isn’t all that bad and you do tend to overreact sometimes.

It’s just hard not to, he has a penchant for getting under your skin like no other. Kind of like the annoying boys you used to go to high school with that would relentlessly tease you for being you.

No time to project your insecurities. You’re at work, you remind yourself, listening intently as your boss turns to you and begins to describe how he wants you to shoot the scene.

Intimate. Very. Intimate.

He yells action and the scene begins to play out naturally.

Lexxie stands by the window, her white silk robe loosely tied around her waist, revealing glimpses of her smooth, brown skin. The moonlight accentuates her curves, making her look like a vision of desire against the backdrop of the shimmering city.

Javier watches her from the bed, gaze dark with anticipation. He can’t take his eyes off her, the way the silk clings to her body, hinting at the treasures beneath.

She turns to him, a playful smile dancing on her lips, and slowly walks toward the bed, her hips swaying seductively with each step.

Steve holds the boom mic above them, out of the camera’s view, as you follow Lexxie’s movements with careful precision, zooming in on her long legs then panning up to her thick thighs.

As she reaches the bed, she unties the belt of her robe, letting it fall open. Javier licks his lips, the outline of his cock prominent against the fabric of his pants.

She climbs onto the bed, straddling his hips, her hands gliding over his chest.

“I’ve been waiting all day to get you alone.” Her voice is a sultry whisper as she traces her fingers along Javier’s jawline. “I can’t believe we’re finally here, just you and me.”

There’s a lopsided smile on his lips, large hands sliding around her waist, pulling her closer. “You look incredible, baby. Couldn’t take my eyes off you all night. My pretty wife.”

She leans in, her breath warm against his ear. “Tell me what you want. I want to hear you say it.” Her words are a teasing challenge, her teeth biting down on his earlobe.

He groans softly, hands roaming over her curves. “I want to touch you, taste you. Feel you shiver under my hands, hear you moan my name.” His voice drops to a near-growl. “I want to make you mine, over and over again.”

You’re on the bed with them, knees digging into the comforter as you hold the camera at eye level, the small screen that extends from it giving it that grain that makes it look even more erotic.

All of this is beginning to feel too intimate but you block that out, even if it’s fucking hard to. This is what your boss wanted, anyways.

You feel your clit pulsing, heat pooling at your core as you watch them and it’s infuriating.

She smiles, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she kisses him deeply, her tongue dancing with his and you make sure to get a good shot of it. “Then take me. Show me why I married you.” She pulls back slightly, her gaze locked with his.

He pulls her closer, his lips capturing hers in another passionate and hungry kiss. They’re absolutely unbothered by your presence.

“I’m going to worship every inch of you.” His tone is thick with promise, bringing his hand up to wrap around her neck. “I want to hear you scream for me, break that little throat then soothe it with my cum.”

Your breath hitches at his words and for the life of you, you don’t understand why you’re being so affected by this.

While faint, he hears your reaction and you don’t miss the subtle smirk that tugs at those pink, pouty lips of his.

“Yes. I want you. I need you. Fuck me like it’s our last night on earth.” Her words are a plea, filled with raw desire and feigning love.

A little corny, but what the hell, that’s half the appeal of these things anyway.

Their bodies press together, the heat between them palpable that you can feel it from where you are.

Her fingers tangled in Javi’s hair as she deepens the kiss, her body moving rhythmically against his.

The passion they exacerbate is undeniable, an electric charge that ropes you in as you move the camera closer, igniting your every nerve.

His skilled fingers move to pull down the cups of her bra, freeing her breasts and he uses his hold on her neck to tilt her back slightly, leaning down to wrap his lips around her stiff nipple. He suckles on it, drawing out a moan from the star on his lap as his wet tongue darts out to flick rapidly against the pebbled flesh.

He does the same to the other, you following his movements and your own nipples hardening, the friction of them rubbing up against your sports bra with each deep breath you take enough to gradually turn you on even more.

After lavishing her chest with his attention, leaving her tits glistening with a layer of his spit, he goes to kiss her again and they share more of that porny dialogue that usually makes you cringe.

But not today.

Not as you watch how they touch up on each other, the way he slowly releases his hold on her neck and she pushes the shirt off his shoulders then shimmies down his body, pulling his pants down and revealing his cock.

You’ve seen it dozens of times, it shouldn’t phase you (just as how he reminded you of earlier), but fuck— with the way you’re so heated right now by unofficially being part of this twosome, you can’t help how your mouth floods with saliva at the sight.

It’s got just the right amount of hair surrounding it, looking real heavy and swollen with arousal as she wraps her fingers around it.

You move down to get a good POV shot, bending at the waist and accidentally wagging your ass in his face.

While Lexxie begins to blow him, showcasing her skill to the camera, Javier’s eyes are glued to your ass and how good it looks in the jean shorts you’re wearing.

You can feel it, his stare heavy as lead, as one of his hands comes down to make a makeshift ponytail of the woman’s curly hair while the other just barely grazes the back of your thighs.

If you weren’t so hyper aware of his touch, you would have missed it. Your hips involuntarily moving subtly and you play it off as you shuffling to get more comfortable to record the oral he’s currently receiving.

Sounds of her gagging and his grunts fill the room. Steve’s brows are furrowed in concentration, picking up every single thing and you pray that he doesn’t hear how ragged your breathing has become.

You didn’t even notice it until the camera in your hand started shaking just a little.

So unprofessional, this shoot is gonna haunt you for weeks.

But Robbie doesn’t seem to mind, and you wonder if you’re the problem with how Steve and him seem to be so locked in while you’re sitting here, all hot and bothered, trying not to think of Javier despite seeing his spit slick cock slipping in and out of her mouth so filthily.

The director orders them to switch and you try not to be too hasty when you move off the bed, allowing the couple to do as they’re told.

You avoid Javier’s eyes, the ones looking for yours, as he settles in between Lexxie’s spread legs.

He comments on how wet she is, tongue darting out to lick his lips as he begins to kiss her over the lacy fabric of her fancy panties.

There’s an obvious wet spot from both her slick and his saliva. You alternate, panning the camera from his ministrations, up her gorgeous body, then to capture the look of pure fucking bliss on her face.

She squeezes her tits, moaning obscenely as he pulls her underwear to the side and begins to suck and lick at her pussy— wet sounds of his lips smacking against her folds and clit has your own cunt dripping and the rough fabric of your jean shorts rubbing against your underwear is just embarrassingly pleasurable.

It’s like you can feel his tongue on you as it flicks over her flesh, her arousal coating his face and dampening his mustache.

Javier begins to finger her and the director urges you to get a closer shot of it, which you do and it has you so close to their intimacy; you can smell her pussy.

Your thighs clench.

She cums all over his fingers and he pulls back, traversing up her body slowly, his lips marking their path until he’s kissing her messily again before shoving those sinewy digits into her mouth, and she expertly cleans them off, not breaking eye contact with him.

You lick your lips, practically tasting her, and they’re directed to start off in missionary then end in doggy.

“Put her head on your lap, get a shot of her tits down with his torso in view. Lexxie, scream his name like it’s the best cock you’ve ever had inside you.”

“Won’t be hard to do. It is the best I’ve had.”

You roll your eyes at the smug smile that tugs at Javier’s lips at her words, that statement enough to calm you down as you shift into the optimal position, her head on your lap as Javier strokes his dick and rids her of her panties, leaving her with the cups of her bra still below her tits and the garter belt on her waist.

The white stockings brush up against his thighs as he hitches her legs up on his hips.

He begins to fuck her, each thrust sending her further up your body and you grip onto your camera as you zoom in on the way her body moves, her back arching and needy whimpers pushing past her plump, glossy lips.

Your eyes are glued to the small screen, his toned body looking like a sculpture and a thin sheen of sweat making him glow.

Yeah, this tape is going to fucking sell.

“Get over here and get a shot of her pretty pussy when I push her legs up.” Javier instructs you and you can’t help but drop your jaw at the audacity.

There’s an insult on the tip of your tongue, waiting to be lashed out but Robbie agrees and you fight the urge to fling the camera at him.

Javier senses your irritation and fucking smirks, but you pay it no mind (or at least try not to) as you move away from Lexxie, off the bed, and beside him.

He spreads her thighs and pushes her knees up to her chest, her pussy on full view as his cock continues to piston in and out of her.

It really is so hot. Usually, some stars would have to use lube to get the process going but not Javier. Never Javier.

He eats pussy so messily and knows just how to treat his girls, they’re usually fucking drenched and dripping by the time he’s ready to fuck them. He doesn’t need anything artificial to help him out.

Lexxie is moaning and spitting out pure filth as he continues to fuck her, you’re doing a good job at capturing it all.

Suddenly, Javi leans over to whisper into your ear.

“Bet you’d look just as pretty like this, nena.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, camera once more shaking slightly in your grasp and your skin warms. What the hell is his deal?

And why does the idea of being spread out like this for him suddenly so fucking enticing?

Your eyes flicker over to Steve, who both watched that little interaction happen and picked it up on his mic, an amused expression on his face.

You shoot him a look that basically translates to Don’t and he shakes his head lightly, holding back a snicker.

They’re directed to switch again, both stars getting closer to their orgasms, and you use this a chance to take a step back and fucking collect yourself. No doubt that your cunt is an absolute mess right now.

Maybe you’ll rub one out before going in tonight. That is if you have the time. Maybe if you’re not so tired after, you’ll pick up one of the men at the bar and use him to fuck Javier Peña out of your mind.

Now bent over, her ass and pussy are on full display. Javier, once more acting like he’s the goddamn director, moves aside so you can get a good shot of it. You do, bristling as he brushes against you whenever he gets back into position behind her, entering her pussy in one swift motion and beginning to fuck the shit out of her.

Jesus. Christ. It must be because of how fucking weird this shoot has been but man, is he giving it to her good.

A few delicious spanks are brought down to her ass, his large palm making the meaty flesh jiggle and he grunts loudly at how it feels against his dick.

There’s more dirty talk, him telling her how good this pussy feels and that it belongs to him now. Her doubling down and telling him that he’s the only cock she’s ever going to take.

You move below his spread legs, getting a good view of his heavy balls slapping against her clit, his precum and her arousal coating the flesh of his sack, the sound of it smacking against her is for sure going to make some poor soul release their spunk all over their keyboards or whatever it is that they’ll watch this on.

Getting more footage of their full bodies, you maneuver yourself all around the bed, knowing that when this sucker is edited together, it’s really going to feel like an intimate telling of a couple’s honeymoon night.

You’ll give it to Javi and Lexxie— they’re good at what they do.

She reaches her peak first, shouting that she’s coming and her body flails and tenses, squeezing his cock and gushing cum out of her hole.

You make the mistake of looking up at Javier, finding that he’s already staring at you and he growls, stilling inside her and filling her up with his load.

It’s like everything else melts and disappears, leaving just you two suspended in this moment. The way his brown eyes twinkle with something you can’t quite decipher has your entire body quivering and your heart beating wildly in your chest.

What the fuck is going on?

“Get the money shot!” Robbie barks at you, seeing that you’ve been lost in a fucking daze and you shake your head, snapping out of it and moving off the rose petal covered sheets, again moving next to Javier as he pulls out.

Lexxie positions herself sexily, and not long after does her pussy flutter and milky cum begins to seep out of it, an obscene squelching sound as it drips lazily onto her engorged clit then the mattress.

It’s so fucking hot, you’ll admit it. That’s the point of these things, isn’t it? To turn others on. You can’t blame yourself for the way its intended effect washes over you.

Except your mind is still hazy from how Javier had looked at you while coming inside of another woman.

The pornstar shakes her hips erotically, giggling as Javier smacks her ass.

“And cut. Great fucking job team. You guys just made me a whole lotta money.”

You quit recording, licking your lips and moving off the bed quickly, closing the camera and making a beeline to the other side of the room, not being shy about the way you snag up another travel sized bottle of Fireball and shoot it.

“Drinking on the job?” Javier tuts, walking over to you with his soft cock hanging between his legs and you do your best to not let your eyes drop down to it. He’s got an unlit cigarette hanging from between his lips. “Very unprofessional.”

Lexxie has disappeared off into the bathroom again to clean up, Steve and Robbie discussing who knows what.

“Yeah well.” You’re flustered and hate how you’re conveying it. He’s reveling in the sight of you. “I got thirsty.”

“Hmm,” he hums, gaze narrowing ever so slightly, “Camera like what it saw?”

You clench your jaw, turning from him to begin packing your stuff up. You don’t have time for this, for him. You need to leave and get ready for the bar.

“You heard Robbie— just made him a whole lotta money, so what do you think?”

“Let me rephrase that. Did you like what you saw? Like watching the way I fucked her but was thinking of you the whole time?”

You freeze, static in your brain like an interrupted television broadcast and your body feeling feverish. You need to get out of here.

“And you say I’m acting unprofessional.” You scoff, trying to act like you’re not affected by him and his stupid words and that dumb mustache and his fucking bare cock.

He snorts out a laugh, prepared to say something else to grate your nerves but you don’t give him a chance, slinging the strap of the camera bag over your shoulder and grabbing your purse, pushing past him.

“Alright, Robbie I’m out. I’ll swing by the office tomorrow and drop this off after I’ve reviewed the footage.”

You can see Javier from your peripheral, tight jeans up on his hips and moving out into the balcony to smoke.

You feel like you can breathe a little easier now.

“Sounds good. I’ll have your check for it then.”

You nod, saying bye to Steve who has a shit eating grin on his face. “You workin’ at Lucky’s tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be there ‘round eleven for a beer… and to discuss whatever the fuck all that was.” He motions vaguely and you roll your eyes.

“I’d rather not.”

“S’too damn bad. I drink Michelobs, by the way.”

Your face scrunches up, “I shouldn’t let you in based on that alone.”

You can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips at his reaction, but it’s all in good fun.

This little interaction is almost enough to make you forget about… all that. Almost. The door to the balcony slides open again and you take that as your cue to get the hell outta dodge.

“Alright, whatever, I’ll see you then. Hopefully we’re not too busy.”

You say goodbye to Lexxie over your shoulder, briskly walking down the hall to the elevator, looking forward to the cold shower you’re about to take to cool down your heated skin.

#javier peña smut #javier pena smut #javier pena x reader #javier peña x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #💌 you’ve got mail!

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eddiernunson · 1 year ago

Text

Take My Anger | mean!Eddie x Reader | 18+

Summary: Eddie is pissed after a session from Hellfire and you offer for him to take his anger out on you.

Warnings: This is...intense. Mouth fucking, lots degradation, use of stop/go, slight dom!eddie, light after care, reader is in established relationship with Eddie. Also depicts him being a dick about Dustin but never to his face.

Based on a conversation I had with the lovely @oddussy420 thank you for the inspo <3

Words: 2.4k

Disclaimer: I wrote this high as shit. That's all.

Eddie walked out of his Hellfire session as his friends celebrate feeling frustrated. Dustin kept finding out his plots and purposefully picking against him…somehow. As the beginning of the semester aired, Eddie realized quickly he would have to up his game when Dustin picked up on his usual storytelling methods. Either Gareth, Josh, and Peter weren’t that observational or just didn’t care enough to pay attention, but Dustin picked up on his three methods in a mere four weeks.

Eventually Dustin started challenging him by picking against the usual route. It made Eddie need to learn how to think on his feet and dig through his own list of plots he’d came up with mentally. It certainly made Eddie prepared at almost every twist, eventually he met Dustin’s challenges with a half-smirk. Eddie’s rise in confidence had to do with several factors, but for time and storytelling reasons we’ll get into two of them (for now).

One, Eddie had practice with Dustin being a shithead. Loads and loads of it, the point where he had come to welcome Dustin’s alternative routes and sometimes rely on them.

Two, Eddie spent weeks figuring out a quest where Dustin would think he’s leading again but Eddie had everything planned out to work out so that no matter what they’d get to the big twist he had planned. He started to feel confident on his plan at this point.

Eddie spent damn near hours in that library researching and writing in his spiral notebook that was so tattered from the years of ripped out pages. He had given Dustin a ride home one late night after Hellfire, and as Dustin left, he caught a glimpse of the thing that Eddie had, quite frankly, been so obvious he didn’t want Dustin to see. If he hadn’t touched it, Dustin would never have known. Eddie kept trying to not so secretly keep it hidden, which was his dead giveaway.

Somehow, Dustin needed to get to that notebook. There’s only a handful of things that Eddie would be protective as he was. You, his guitar, his van, and his plans for DnD sessions. Luckily Josh, who doesn’t know a thing about Eddie and Dustin’s game of cat and mouse, was the one to provide the combination. During Eddie’s free period where he’s usually found making out with you in the forest or goofing off in the drama room, Dustin went into his locker and picked up the graffitied notebook.

It had every answer, and Dustin had to say he was impressed. He would have to be sneaky to throw him off to a different route this time. In a manner of ten minutes of a quick study Dustin knew the plan, and it happened to be one Eddie was excited and hyping up for the group for that same Friday. Dustin came up with his own counter-move for everything, knowing Eddie would want to lead to the big twist and Dustin would move away.

When the day came, Dustin had managed to throw off the story and quest completely, and Eddie saw red. Of course, he knew Dustin was only playing the cat and mouse game, but it felt like his weeks of work and his excitement was just something to laugh at than indulge in for Dustin. As the game ended, Dustin offered his hand to shake for no hard feelings. You walk into the drama room, bounce down the stairs, your ponytail swinging down each step as you say goodbye to the members already leaving.

Oh, the last reason he became more confident? You finally asked him out and you and him had gotten together.

You watch as Eddie meets the handshake nodding to Dustin to let him know they were okay. However, one look at Eddie told you he was pissed. He has all the tell-tale signs. The locked jaw, hardened eyes, the overly intimidating posture. He smiles as his friends leave but the smile is nowhere near his eyes. You have no idea how they didn’t see his anger.

Maybe Eddie’s just good at knowing what he was angry at.

The last person lets the door slam behind them, and it’s loud in the silence that follows. “Hey, baby.” You greet him, walking up to stand face to face with him.

Eddie gulps, looking down at the table blankly as his arm wraps around your back. “Hey,” he answers, his voice gruff and short.

You hesitate in your question, gently caressing his tense back. “How…how was Hellfire?”

Eddie takes a large inhale in, as if calming himself. “That shithead Henderson…” He does it again, closing his eyes. “That shithead Henderson found my notebook and memorized everything.” He stops talking, finding himself getting a bit worked up. “I spent weeks on that campaign just for him to…” he sighs, leaning onto the table, “just for him to destroy it in an hour.”

“Oh, baby that sucks.” You emphasize with him.

“Yeah, no shit it sucks!” Eddie laughs, walking from you towards the head of the table where his throne sits.

Okay, now he’s being mean with you, too.

He sits down on the throne, his one leg hanging over an arm rest. You checked the time, knowing this session ran late and wanting to catch that movie that he asked you to. If he’s pissed to the point of being just plain mean it would take some time calming to get him down to regular mad.

Fuck. He’s never this way after an orgasm, it would roll right off his shoulder. An idea.

You observe where Eddie is sat in his throne, deciding you could fit in the space between the table and his legs. Eddie doesn’t even notice you crawling under the table on your bare knees until you reach his line of sight on the floor right in front of him.

“Whoa, what’re you doing down there?”

“You couldn’t see me anywhere else.” You shrug. You sit back on your knees, looking up at him with that stare you knew got to him. Wide eyes, big smile. He loves it when you’re eager. “Is there anything I could do to help you feel better?”

“No, I’ll be fine. I’m just pissed.”

“Anything?” You ask crawling up between his legs. “You don’t need help taking your frustrations out…any other way?” Your hands move up and down his legs, watching as he immediately leans back and sighs. His brown eyes remain fixated on yours. Offering a blowjob is one thing, but offering this? Holy fuck, has he won the lottery.

“What’re you offering?” Eddie asks, sounding uninterested.

You don’t buy it for a second. “Use my mouth. Fuck it, then you’ll feel much better when I swallow.”

Eddie’s chest rapidly inflates in response, his eyes welcoming that sprinkle of lust he usually has. “Then do it.” Your hands work fast, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans as fast as possible. He chuckles darkly as he legs his pants fall to his knees, watching you eagerly eye his cock. “Get to it.”

You wrap your lips around the head, sucking lightly as a tease. It happens only for a second as a harsh hand lands on your neck and forces you down further on it. Perfect. You bob your head up and down, getting it nice and wet. As you continue, saliva naturally curates and you let it all drool on to him, spit and slobber covering your hand you had supporting you and your mouth. “Oh shit.” Eddie comments, watching you through half-mooned eyes.

Since you suggested him fucking your mouth it was all that was in your brain. You find his hand again, placing it around the base of your ponytail. Eddie immediately takes it into his fist and moves your head so harshly you’re surprised by the initial move. He kept up the movement, eventually muttering to himself. “Oh, take that cock. Oh shit, fucking whore, you take it.”

Just when you adjusted to him suddenly, he pushes himself down your throat, his treasure trail meeting your nose. How did his treasure trail smell so good? You clutch onto his jeans in front of you, tears forming as he stays in the back of his throat and doesn’t move. When it’s been a longer time than usual, Eddie can sense your curiosity. “I wanted to see how long you could take this, a cock at the back of your throat. What a good whore I have…” It was only a minute more when you hit Eddie’s thigh twice, air needed to be brought to you or you would’ve passed out. He places a hand beneath your chin, staring at you in awe as you catch your breath. Your face looked a disaster, your eye makeup a tad runny while your mouth was covered in your own spit. He loved it.

“Bend over.” He commands, and from the authority in his voice you don’t have a damn option. Your underwear is snatched off you, it’s not even down to your knees when Eddie slips into you without pacing himself. He moved right into bucking his hips against yours, the slap of them bouncing harsh enough to bruise. “Baby?” He asks, his voice soft for one moment.

“Go.” You let him know.

“Fucking whore, letting me fuck her just to get some anger out.” His hand goes around your torso, his hands holding you harshly enough to bruise. “Fuck, pussy is so good, though. Look at me.”

You turn your head to face him, and he leans in to kiss you and he does so gently, his tongue sliding against yours with grace. He lets go of you, letting you fall forward on your chest on the table as he continues to buck his hips into you. That was purposeful; you realize. He wanted to embarrass you.

“Let your tits out, slut.” He orders you, his voice showing indifference as the little whines escape your throat. You move your dress down your torso off your shoulders, exposing your nipples to the hard linoleum table. Eddie lifts you up to him, turning you around so one leg was on his shoulder.

“Oh fuck.” You whimper as he starts to hit your g-spot at this angle.

Eddie stops his movements real quick “Hey. You’re the fuck toy. Shut up.” His crass choice treating you as such only turns you on more, your hand covering your mouth as your eyes roll into the back of your head in arousal. Eddie notices, your pussy becoming wetter in response. “Slut loves when I put her in her place.”

You nod your head, hand still on your mouth as you tried not to make another sound.

“The perfect fuck doll, baby. Take this cock so fucking well, goddamn whore.”

His hand reaches the now loose ponytail and pulls. You smile up at him, the reaction sends more anger through him as he pulls tighter. You manage not to moan in response but the pleasure that it sent through you was indescribable.

“So fucking pissed, spent fucking…weeks…” He mutters, his hips still going at an unprecedented rate against you, his grip he now has on your forearm starting to feel sore. “Fucking steals…fuck you’re such a damn good whore.”

Heat remained explosive from your pussy, and though he’s barely put any attention on your pleasure you were almost there. “I-I’m close.” You mutter, and Eddie lets out a chuckle.

“Of course, you get off to being a fucktoy. It’s all you are.” He pounds into you a handful of times, feeling your heat flutter around him as you got closer. “Fuck, I’m close, too.” He puts the leg on his shoulder down and lies you flat on the table, the impact against your back harsh and cold. He places a hand around your neck, cutting your air off. “You’re not gonna cum until I tell you to. Understand?”

You nod, two hands gripping his strong forearm. He admires how his rings make a nice necklace around your throat.

His other hand meets your clit, starting to rub at it to purposely get you to that high as fast as possible. Eddie knew you so goddamn well he could time your orgasm to take however fast and slow he wanted. “Uh-uh,” Eddie tuts when he sees your entire body tense up in preparation for an orgasm. “Not yet.” He lets go of your folds, letting you feel the loss, then he places his hand there again.

He repeats it, twice. Each time you get more and more desperate to cum, and Eddie can feel your pussy shaking from it.

“AH!” He tuts again, yanking his fingers as your eyes roll to the back of your head and your legs tense right up.

“Please, Eddie. Please.” You beg him, the overstimulation at this point too much. “Lemme cum, I need it so bad. Please.”

“Oh thank you for using your manners, whore.” Eddie uses his hand one more time on you, strategically getting you off at a calmer rate and loving how your face looks as you finally cum around him.

Heat invaded you as you finally cum, your body going limp as Eddie continues to fuck you. He’s gone in seconds, the entire time he was torturing himself, as well. The afterglow kicks in, and Eddie slips himself out of you as his hand swipes your face lovingly. “Oh, baby. My sweet girl.” He stays laying down with you until he sees you come back down to earth, and you inhale and exhale deeply, attempting to catch your breath. “There she is. You did so fucking good, baby.”

You smile up at him, your heart expanding. “Yeah?”

“Fuck.” Eddie swears, a laugh escaping him. “We definitely missed the movie, but we can go look at the stars, again, if you want.”

“Out in the field by your place?” You ask hopefully, remembering one of your first dates where he spent most of the night eating you out.

He places his hands delicately on your cheek, kissing you with all the love in the world. “Of course, sweetheart.”

You sigh, your heart still racing.

He can feel your heart still pounding against his chest. “You okay to walk?”

“I’ll need a few more minutes, stay with me.”

He let you crawl into his arms until you recovered, making himself pissed for not having a source of water on hand. “Grab some food later?”

You nod in his chest, taking in the scent of the cologne on the shirt he didn’t take off. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Miles, thank you so much for that, sweetheart.”

You smile into his chest, proud of getting him to handle his anger in a way you’ve talked about. “Of course, baby.”

Thank you so much for reading! I love to read your comments, replies, and reblogs. As always, reblogging is the best way to support your fic writers on tumblr.

Taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinncore @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you

#mean!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #mean!eddie munson x you #dom!eddie munson

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feyascorner · 11 months ago

Text

3 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. You hate him, you think. You want to hate him, at the very least.

“Are you afraid I’ll hurt you?” he asks, his expression indecipherable. “I didn’t realize the great savior of the city could be afraid of a mere vampire spawn.”

“You did try to strangle me last time we spoke."

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, reader is a bard, large chunks of italicized texts are flashbacks

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. redemption arc is coming i swear :) this is a whopping 4.7k i got kinda carried away but oh well,, Thank you so much for your comments on these they make my day and i appreciate each one<3

Dance upon the stars tonight

Smile and pain will fade away

“And what might our dear bard be working so passionately on?”

You look up from your notebook, ceasing the messy scribbling of lyrics into its tattered pages. Astarion perches himself beside you, the flames of the campfire flickering in the reflection of his eyes as you stop humming and raise a cautious brow. A vampire spawn. You’d never seen one in person–-only had you heard of them in your childhood tales of the spawn that would sweep away naughty children if they didn’t finish their vegetables. Up close, you can almost see his fangs protruding from the grin he's constantly wearing.

You wonder if it’s a genuine one.

“That bard at the grove today,” you recall. “Alfira? I’m trying to finish the lyrics and write them out for her.”

“Is that so? Surely you’re receiving some sort of payment for these gracious services?”

You train your eyes back onto the pages, shaking your head. “I’m doing this for fun. Her song is beautiful. It just needs—” you squint. “--adjustment.”

He laughs, and you can see the fangs clearly now. They’re sharper than you expected them to be. “I believe that’s a drastic understatement, my dear. My heart felt for those poor squirrels. I’m quite willing to bet that they have an aversion to bards now.”

“And you’re suddenly a musician yourself?”

“It doesn’t take a musician to recognize poor singing, darling Tav,” he returns. “And considering I’ve spent the past few days listening to your music, I’m sure you’ll understand why I considered it such an abomination.”

You narrow your eyes. “I thought you didn’t like me–or my music.”

“You? I'm still deciding,” he shrugs and you roll your eyes. “But I must say that I’m growing rather fond of that lyre of yours. Have you had it for long?”

You give him a sidelong glance before answering slowly. “I’ve had it for ages. Practically when I just started.”

“Explains itself then, I suppose.”

“And you?” you watch as he leans back on his palms. “Do you have any other talents to offer to our companions, or is it just your teeth?”

“Now, don’t be so cruel, dear,” he smiles wider. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re rather fond of them as well. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you staring all the time.”

“I’m on guard,” you clarify.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

You’re not sure if you can sleep with one eye open, much less both of them closed. You’re not sure if you trust him at all, either, but as he stares up at the starry sky, simply listening to the crackling of the campfire, you decide you’d rather save yourself the energy for what awaits tomorrow.

“Why did you do that earlier?” you find yourself asking, and he replies by glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“Do what?”

“Save Wyll from that goblin arrow,” you mumble. “I thought you didn't care about any of us.”

“And what gives you that impression?”

You deadpan, staring at him with lidded eyes and he laughs out loud. It sounds more genuine than anything else he’s offered so far. It's nice.

“It’s a simple transaction, dear. One where I receive protection in turn for the occasional aid I can give with my own blade.”

You squint at him, but you see no signs of deception. So instead, you simply nod and resume scribbling into your notebook, softly humming to yourself alongside the lyrics. And when you halt, stuck on a particular lyric that you can’t seem to remember, you hear him shift, standing himself back up to retreat to his tent.

“Something about faith and care comes next if my memory serves,” is all he says before striding away. While you watch him in confusion, you click your tongue and try to focus again. And when you look down at your page, you remember the rest of the words.

Somehow, you feel the corners of your lips lift.

“As much as I’d love for this to be a charming, long-awaited reunion, one of the parties imposes a danger to the other.”

You wince at the sarcasm dripping from Gale’s voice. Duke Ravengard’s expression remains solemn, unmoving like a stone, while your companion pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “We can’t harbor a vampire spawn in our home. We’re supposed to be finding them, not keeping them!”

You hate the irony of the statement because the camp you’d spent so many months in with an uninvited guest in your head, had also been your home. One where you spent your nights in a vampire spawn’s tent. It’s not so different, you keep telling yourself. But you’re painfully aware that the Duke only knows a sugar-coated version of the falling out between you and said vampire. He doesn’t know how his son had to tear Astarion away from you and how your voice had been sore for weeks afterward.

“As much as I have my own opinions with allying with a vampire spawn,” the Duke stares at Astarion warningly. “Wyll did say this spawn saved his life while your party ventured together. For that, I'm willing to see reason if he’s cooperative, rather than restrain him with the Fists.”

You never thought much of it until now. With how many life threatening experiences you and your companions had come across, it felt natural to save one another. At first, it had been out of necessity—fear that one person would turn into an illithid. Yet, with time, you'd all grown fond of each other, one way or another.

You think back to when Astarion had saved Wyll and wonder if that part of him is still in there. Maybe it was never there at all. Maybe it had been another one of his manipulation tactics that you're so prone to falling for.

Gods, you're hopeless.

The wizard standing beside you sighs irritably. “But that was before he tried to squeeze the life out of-”

“How long do we need to keep him?”

Gale balks at your words. “You can’t seriously be considering this.”

“Just until we’re able to locate the rest of the spawns spread throughout the city, which you kindly decided not to mention in our last conversation.”

You shoot Gale a glare, silently questioning if he’d been the one to confess the existence of the spawns underground, but he’s too busy scanning over Astarion, who’s mindlessly fidgeting with his knife. The said spawn seems to feel your gaze, because he glances at you, then grins.

The bastard is smiling.

“The man you killed this morning is a spawn himself, yes?” the Duke clarifies. “There have been numerous reports the past few days about strange figures with fangs throughout the city—I’d known they’d existed, but to the numbers that are being reported…”

“You couldn’t have possibly believed myself to be the only spawn around?” Astarion laughs bitterly. “I do not wish to go hungry, Duke, but I don’t need nearly as many bodies that’s been showing up—assuming that I did drink from anyone, of course.”

Ravengard ignores him, speaking as if he’s not there. “I could still have him detained if that is what you wish. We can continue as we have and search for the spawn without his help.”

You know it’s a fruitless effort if last night has told you anything.

“You don’t even have evidence that I drank from a single person in this entire bloody city!” Astarion spits back, rolling his neck in exasperation.

“No,” you purse your lips, finally looking up. “I’ll be responsible for him.”

Gale clears his throat alarmingly. “Now, dear leader, let’s have a private conversation before we make any hasty decisions, yes? Surely, we don’t have to decide right this moment.”

And while you open your mouth to respond that no, you won’t have Astarion rot away in some gross cell, the Duke nods. “Very well.”

Gale pushes you to the corner of the room, with his face clearly paling in disbelief. “Please tell me you’re joking. You want someone who nearly strangled you to death sleeping in the room next to yours?”

“Ravengard wants us to find out where the other spawn are hiding, and the only lead we have is sitting right there,” you defend yourself. “Throwing Astarion into a dirty cell won’t do anything to convince him to help us.”

“The Duke doesn’t know what he did to you!”

“He doesn’t need to. Astarion’s made it very clear he’s not going to spill any information if the Duke is the one asking, and we need a lead. I nearly died last night, Gale. I want to avoid that if I can.”

His eyes soften just a bit, but it’s enough. With a loud sigh, he scrunches his nose. “And you’re sure you’re not doing this for more personal reasons?”

At this, you pause. Your eyes waver, and the look Gale gives you is almost soul-crushing if it weren’t for the fact that you feel like you’ve already hit rock bottom. You know this is not a good idea. You know that being so close to him again after so many months is not a good idea, especially when you’ve just finally begun your journey to forget him.

You curse the gods above for your luck.

The silence prompts Gale to speak. “I’ll tell the Duke we can’t involve ourselves in this.”

“Gale,” your voice almost cracks. “Please.”

He doesn’t want to agree, you can tell. Any sane person wouldn’t invite a bloodthirsty vampire spawn who’s willing to use his own hands to kill his so-called lover into their home. You want to think that you’re void of bias, but you know it’s a pathetic attempt to reassure yourself. Still, the expression on your face must be quite the sight because Gale takes one look, glances at Astarion, then slumps his shoulders. You’ve won.

You hadn’t even realized the door had been swung open, where your other companions had been standing, taking one look at Astarion then to you. While Gale wallows in his own defeat, you turn to the others, eyes glimmering with a kind of hope that they haven’t seen in months.

“Your judgment’s gotten us this far,” Shadowheart sighs. “We’d be fools not to trust it now.”

Lae’zel clicks her tongue. “My blade is ready to slit his throat if need be. Just command me, and I shall.”

“We aren’t going to try to kill him," you retort.

“It’s only right to return the favor."

Dinner is awkward. You’re finally getting to try Gale’s stew, but it’s hard to focus on the taste when all you can feel is the searing stare of the person sitting across from you. He only has a goblet of crimson liquid in the same shade as his eyes in front of him, and it remains untouched as he takes in the rest of the house.

“So,” Gale offers. “What have you been up to?”

It’s not much, but it’s better than sitting in complete silence.

“Wandering the streets at night, mostly. Oh, and murdering half the city, apparently,” Astarion lets out his usual high-pitched laugh at the end, and your fingers tighten around your spoon. Shadowheart glares at him through her lashes, and you think she may lunge at him any second. You want to think you wouldn't stop her.

You feel for her, really. Being the group’s cleric comes with its advantages but also with the unspoken burden of watching your companions in pain. She’d been the one to ensure Astarion hadn’t left long-lasting damage to your throat. She’d been the one to soothe your headaches and cast a sleeping spell on you in hopes it’ll allow you to rest longer than just a few hours. She’d also seen you nearly bleed out multiple times, one of which occurred mere hours ago.

The sudden scrape of Lae’zel’s chair being pushed back catches your attention. She stands, lifting her bowl with her. “The air here is suffocating. Sort out your differences before I sort them out for you.”

The rest of you collectively nod. She doesn’t say anything else before leaving the room.

“The room at the end of the hallway upstairs is yours,” Shadowheart says finally. “Don’t bother me if you need anything else.”

She stands up as well, leaving her bowl in the sink before pacing up the stairs to her own quarters.

Somehow, the atmosphere is even worse now. You don’t dare lift your eyes from your stew, and you honestly hope it explodes before you have to sit here and drink all of it in this silence. Gale, thankfully, does not leave. Instead, he sets down his utensil.

“I suggest we have a set of rules in place–for the sake of everyone occupying this home,” he clears his throat. You shoot him a questioning look, which he dusts off.

“Fine,” Astarion leans back in his chair, now swirling the goblet of blood in his hand. “What do you have in mind?”

“No drinking. From anyone here.”

You blink a few times, then hear Astarion hum in acknowledgment. “Shame. Though your blood was vile anyway.”

“And don’t cause any trouble. One of us will go with you when you need to drink, so you can hunt for whatever animal you prefer these days. Otherwise, unless we say so, you’ll remain here.”

“Why, this sounds almost identical to a prison. Looking for a job as a warden, Gale? A midlife crisis, perhaps. Does wizard life not suit you anymore?”

“It suits me plenty, thanks,” Gale snorts. “We’ll be out during the day to rebuild the city, so you’ll have to entertain yourself in your own room. Don’t touch anything—especially my stuff.”

Astarion grins. “That almost sounds like an invitation.”

The wizard then turns to you. “And you? Do you have any other rules you’d like to add?”

You finally lift your head from the stew, looking back and forth between the two before shaking your head while pushing your chair back. For someone who’d imagined aimlessly for months about seeing your former lover again, you can’t seem to look him in the eye for fear of what you might feel. “I’m going out.”

“I’m going to take that as a no.”

Wordlessly, you pace toward the door, refusing to look back to suppress the urge to sprint back into his arms. You don’t know what you were thinking just a few hours ago, but this was not going to end well. If you couldn’t manage a simple dinner sitting across from him, what could you manage?

You’re in such a rush that you forget to bring anything besides your wallet.

By the time you’re on your way back to the house hours later, you have a backpack shoved full of fabrics with nails and a hammer to go along with it. As you pass by the taverns, you hear music playing from inside, alongside a few cheers and what you can only assume to be a crash of chairs as people applaud.

You can’t help but peer through the window as you walk past, where a bard merrily plays on his drum, lightening the mood of the entire tavern—even the bartender smiles along as he plays tunes you’ve heard a million times before. And while your hands itch for a lyre—to feel the string snap against your fingertips—you know no good will come of it. You’ll only sit before the instrument, your hands unable to find the emotions to exert in the form of notes.

As you stare at the bard, you remind yourself you’ve long given up on that kind of life.

So instead, you continue your way to the Highberry’s home. When you knock on the door, a very weary Cora Highberry greets you with bags under her eyes, but a calm smile still stretching on her lips nonetheless. She steps out of the way, inviting you in, and you do so.

“You didn’t have to, dear,” she says as she takes a bag of the city’s finest fruits from your hands. “The neighbors have been oh so gracious to us. They’re helping the children so much, I couldn’t possibly ask for more.”

“I was just passing by, that’s all,” you offer. “I wanted to check on you since I left a bit abruptly last time.”

“Oh, dear, you know how to make a woman feel special. It’s been terrible, really. I haven’t gone so long with my husband in ages…” she laughs, wiping at her swollen eyes. “But we were an old couple anyways…I had some time to prepare my emotions. I just didn’t think he’d go like that.”

You nod as she hands you a mug of hot tea. “But never mind that. I’ve spent the past two weeks talking about nothing but myself, so I’m quite tired. What about you, dear?”

“Me?”

“You look like death themselves,” she frowns. “I’ve lived for quite long…I recognize that heartbroken face anywhere. Has something happened?”

The way she’s staring at you—it’s different than pity. You can’t quite identify it, but she smiles again. It’s not the kind of smile most people give you—not one of anticpation, not one of gratefulness, but just a regular, old smile. And it makes your shoulders untense just the slightest before they tense again. You take a swig of the tea, nearly burning your throat in the process as you set the mug down, splitting a pathetic smile. “No, I’m okay. Just--tired.”

Very, very tired. Not physically, no, but tired of the indecisiveness that is your heart.

Her face falls softly. “How troubling it must be to have the weight of the city on your shoulders."

Before you can answer, there’s a loud thud upstairs. She notices your alarm and shakes her head. “Ah, must be Berry. She’s one of the younger children, and she’s been taking my husband’s death quite hard. Please excuse me, dear. I need to go put her back to sleep.”

And with that, you’re left alone on the first floor of the building again. You contemplate staying to say your farewells but the cries from upstairs convince you otherwise. Taking one last swig from the mug, you gather your things and leave.

When you get back home, it’s well into the night, an hour or two after midnight, you’d think. None of the lights are on, so the first thing you do is light a candle when you step through the door, dropping your backpack onto the dining room table. Dunking all your materials out, you take the hammer and start your work.

There’s something soothing about the darkness outside, with the way nothing seems to exist besides you and your own thoughts in a city that overflows with a sense of community. You try not to think about the man most likely reading in his room just a floor above you and focus on hanging the fabrics in front of all of the windows. The cloths are mismatched in color, and your hammer work is nothing more than sufficient, but it’ll do for now. At least until you can get actual curtains installed.

You worry that some of the fabrics aren’t thick enough to absorb all the sunlight, so you layer another fabric on top of it until you’re sure that even your candlelight cannot be seen from outside. Why you’re going so far for him, you do not know. You prefer to assure yourself that you need him to help stop the spawn from devouring the entire city, but even in your own thoughts, it sounds like a lie.

You wonder if he cares nearly as much as you do. He probably doesn’t.

You hate him, you think for the millionth time today. You want to, at the very least.

You flinch when a splinter in the wooden wall splits your skin open, forming a drop of blood on your index finger. Curse the heavens above, nothing was going right today. You quickly reach for a towel but nearly jump when you hear his voice from the stairs.

“You really need to stop with that habit of yours.”

You spin around, and he’s already at the foot of the stairs, reaching to grab a towel from the kitchen. But you’re faster, snatching it away and pressing it over your hand while he raises both his own, imitating a surrender of getting any closer. You can’t look at him in the eye—you don’t want to either. “What habit?”

“You’re speaking to me now?” he raises a brow, and you turn away again after shooting him a glare. “I’d thought you’d avoid me forever—scurrying off like a squirrel whenever I step into the room.”

You should avoid him forever. But the words don’t reach your tongue, and you choose to ignore him.

He doesn’t budge. “I meant bleeding around me.”

“What?”

“Every time I see you, you always seem to be bleeding.”

You frown at him. “Maybe you just prefer being around me when I’m bleeding.”

“You might be right." You think maybe he’s done with this painfully awkward conversation until you see him staring at the windows covered with random pieces of fabric, and suddenly, you feel embarrassment creep up your skin. You realize how bizarre your actions must appear in someone else’s eyes, staying up to the break of dawn so that he’ll be able to traverse someplace outside the confines of his own room…

It might make him think you care, and the worst part is that a part of you does.

“I hope you don’t expect me to thank you, darling.”

The nickname feels like a stab to your heart, haunting, even, but you do your best to brush it off.

“For what?” you manage to force out through clenched teeth.

“The cell they would’ve thrown me into is nothing different from trapping me in that room, I’m afraid,” he laughs bitterly, and you want to crawl into a hole from how cold his voice sounds. Distant. Like how he’d sounded the day you found him next to his nautiloid pod. “But I suppose I should be grateful for having a bed instead of having to spend my days rotting away on the dirty floor?”

You bite your bottom lip, brows furrowing. “I don't expect anything from you.”

But you do. Not quite an expectation, but a lingering wish that maybe you can heal. It's pathetic, even in your own eyes and surely everyone else's, but you can't be bothered to care.

It pisses you off a bit. How he seems perfectly unfazed while you continue to drown in your own feelings.

“Are you just here to taunt me, or is there a reason for this conversation?” you snap. This is not quite how you wanted your reunion to go.

He raises a brow. “Taunt you? I'm only answering questions you're afraid to ask.”

“I don't need to know anything about you,” you grit through your teeth. “You left my mind the second you abandoned us.”

What a poor, wishful lie.

“Ha!” It doesn't really sound like a laugh—more a scoff of disbelief. It's like he knows what you're thinking, and for a split second, it feels like there's a tadpole in your head again. “Of course you think I'm the villain of your precious heroic tale! Honestly darling, the irony just writes itself.”

You fight the urge to scowl, but you're not sure if you're successful. You find yourself gripping onto the towel harder, teeth clenched as your chest tightens just hearing his words. You truly hate that he seems to care less than you—it’s like he's not even taking you seriously.

And that damned nickname.

It feels like talking to the Astarion you first met—one who’s only intentions were to use you—but this time, you don't think it’s a mask. He doesn't want anything more from you. Only your own suffering from taking the power that would have made him untouchable.

“So tell me, dear, do you wish for me to grovel at your feet?”

Your eyes widen, and the term of endearment that once made your cheeks flush only makes you feel sick. “What?”

“Do you expect me to drop to my knees, begging for your forgiveness?” he says again, eerily composed while you struggle to come up with words. “Perhaps I would have if we were still staying in that camp. Put on a show, even."

You frown, setting your hammer down on the counter. “I’ve never made you grovel. I’ve never made you do anything.”

“Maybe not directly, no, you’re too kind of a soul to do so,” there’s venom lacing the words that feel nothing short of a lie. Somehow, he’s still smiling. “Instead, you made me beg for your help. You accepted—made it feel like I had a choice. Then tore it away just the same, in the cruelest way possible. Impressive, really. I didn't expect such dramatic sins from you.”

The way he looks at you, words dripping with sarcasm, makes you want to melt into the floor, ceasing to exist as a whole. But alas, you continue standing like a deer in headlights, unsure of how to respond. You look down to see the towel stained with your blood and inhale deeply, watching the dark sky lighten with daybreak through the window. “The sun’s rising.”

His smile drops, something foreign flickering in his eyes. He suddenly steps toward you, and as soon as he gets within two feet, you find yourself stepping backward, your fingers tightening around the hammer. You have no idea if you'd even be able to use it, but it's better than digging your nails into your palms.

It doesn't go unnoticed.

“Are you afraid I’ll hurt you?” he asks, his expression indecipherable. “I didn’t realize the great savior of the city could be afraid of a mere vampire spawn.”

You don't want to think he'd truly kill you. Not really, but your mind flashes back to the look in his eyes when he had his hands wrapped around your lifeline, and you grip the hammer tighter, heartbeat pounding impossibly fast.

“You did try to strangle me last time we spoke,” you mutter.

His lip twitches, and he steps back bitterly. You feel like you can breathe again.“Ah, yes, that.”

You swear your stomach drops to your feet at the mere suggestion he’d forgotten what haunts your nightmares every night, forcing you to lurch from your rest in a cold sweat, hands shaking, and having nobody to turn to for comfort. He couldn't be that cruel…could he? You want to scream at him, punch him, kick him, tell him he’s not being fair. You want to defend yourself, say that all you’ve ever wanted was for him to be safe, but even that feels like too much when he’s giving you so little.

“Very well, I’ll indulge you,” he grins again. You realize your time is running out, the sun beginning to peer out from the horizon. “Why did you assume responsibility for me? I can’t imagine why you’d want such a terrible foe in your life living right next door of your own sanctuary.”

For the city, you tell yourself. For Cora's husband and the poor victims drained off their life, all alone in the darkest corners of Baldur's Gate. “...I didn’t do it for you.”

He searches your face for something, his eyes narrowing. He's waiting for you to continue, but there's no more fuel in the tank, and now you just want to sleep for a very long time. You assume he comes up empty when the corners of his lips fall, and he turns to climb up the stairs. Sunlight hits your back as your eyes trail him in his steps, and it does nothing to warm how cold it feels in the room.

“That much I’m aware,” he stops his steps for a brief moment. You barely catch it, but it's there. “Terribly aware.”

And when he finally leaves, you bury your face into your hands.

"I'm nervous."

"What for?"

"What if the ascension goes wrong? Are you sure we should really be doing this, Astarion?"

He brushes your hair out of your face, cupping both your cheeks in his hands. "We'll be okay, my love. I will still be here, and so will you. I'll just finally have enough power to protect what I care about."

He sees the hesitance in your eyes and leans his forehead against yours. You melt into his touch, placing your hands atop his.

"So please, stand beside me for this," he pleads.

And despite the way your intuition screams at you otherwise, despite the way your very being begs you to pull away, you nod, sealing your fate.

"I'll be right here."

Tags:@ayselluna @littleenglishfangirl @bg3obsessedsideblog @iwillpissyourpants @cyberpr1m3 @ukeia-uchiha @snowlotr @road-riot @spacekidnova @madislayyy @lordfishflakes @nicalysm @djarinsway @tinystarfishgalaxy @brainz00 @hopeful-n-sad @ohdeerieme @madisban @chrismarium @chonkercatto Please let me know if I didn't add you to the list or if you'd like to be added!

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion #astarion x reader #bg3 x reader #fluff #bg3 #angst with a happy ending #angst #gale of waterdeep #shadowheart

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ninibeingdelulu · 5 months ago

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Am I in love with just a theme ? ✧

Plot: You watch your boyfriend becoming a serial killer…

An eerie hush permeated the modest bedroom save for the scratching of Light's pen etching yet another convicted criminal's name into that innocuous black notebook.

You couldn't tear your gaze away, stomach roiling in uneasy revulsion at how...casually he wielded such monstrous power these days.

Like some self-appointed deity passing judgment with a flick of his wrist.

This merciless, arrogant demigod bore only the barest fleeting resemblance to the brilliant yet tenderhearted boyfriend you once adored.

Since acquiring the Death Note's insidious abilities, your Light had steadily devolved into a twisted shell of his former self, driven by an all-consuming messiah complex.

You barely recognized him anymore - the Light you knew would've recoiled in horror over such wanton slaughter, dismissing the very notion as abhorrent. These days? He didn't so much as blink as person after person perished at his whim, swaths of human lives extinguished with infuriatingly casual indifference.

Swallowing thickly, you finally found your voice. Hesitant, yet brimming with desperation to reach whatever tattered remnants of the man you loved still lurked beneath Kira's pitiless exterior.

"Light?"

When those russet eyes flickered up towards you, glacial and utterly devoid of warmth, the words shriveled in your throat for an agonizing heartbeat.

Plunging onwards with a strained exhale, you barrelled through before your nerve could crumble entirely.

"Why don't you just...pass the notebook off to someone else?" Achingly wistful, you curled your arms across your midsection like a flimsy shield.

"You don't...you don't have to keep doing this yourself. We could go back to how things were before and-"

"Enough." Light cut you off with a curt growl, snapping the Death Note closed with a dull thud that made you flinch.

Abruptly he stood, stalking towards the bed with leonine grace yet stiff, clipped movements radiating frigid menace. Too late, you shrank from his imposing form looming over you now.

Face to face, scarcely inches apart, you could see the fanatical glint smoldering behind those impassive, handsome features.

A shudder slithered down your vertebrae under his unnerving scrutiny.

"I can't let this power slip into anyone else's hands."

The words emerged through gritted teeth, a muscle feathering along Light's taut jawline.

"I was chosen to become the God of this new world, to execute divine justice and establish true order with my own hands. No one else is worthy."

An errant tear slipped from the corner of your eye, tracing a glistening trail down your cheek in the tense standoff's wake. You tried valiantly to fortify your resolve, to not flinch away from the sheer gravity of that unnervingly cold, callous resolution etched into his very marrow.

But it was too much.

"Light, please..."

The words gurgled out in a desperate rasp, thick with anguished pleading and unshed tears.

"I love you, b-but I can't keep watching as you lose every shred of your humanity like this! If you won't give up that thing, then...then I have to go. I can't stay by and watch this anymore!"

At the achingly soft admission spilling through your wobbling lips, Light's expression didn't flicker for a protracted, agonizing heartbeat.

But then his mouth curled into the ghost of a smirk, utterly devoid of genuine mirth - just cruel, calculating self-assurance.

"Go ahead and try," he crooned with scathing disinterest, callused fingers seizing a rough fistful of your hair to forcibly tilt your face up towards his. Tears spilled freely now, sobs raking your trembling frame.

"You don't honestly think I'd let you walk away with everything you know about me still intact, do you?"

The icy finality behind those mocking words washed over you in a suffocating wave, stealing what little tenuous purchase on hope you still possessed.

You sagged, terror-fuelled adrenaline rapidly leaching away into numb hopelessness and misery.

Without ceremony, Light shoved you away with a scoff, leaving you sprawled across the mattress amidst your pitiful puddle of grief.

With a few perfunctory swipes of his sleeve across those chiseled features, he'd already vanished whatever fleeting glimpses of genuine emotion had flickered there just moments ago.

"You'll stay right here, powerless and silent as my humble concubine," the words emerged crisp, cold, and utterly inflexible as he returned to the Death Note splayed open in indifferent expectation.

"Embrace your purpose, devote yourself to watching over the birth of a new utopia...or perish like any other obstacle beneath my heel."

Through a fresh torrent of searing tears, you could only bring yourself to rasp out a pitiful whimper of surrender.

Beaten. Broken.

Any facade of control or dignity had long fled along with the better parts of Light's withering soul.

Beneath the weight of sickening realization settling like a shroud, darkness crept across your vision as the soft scratching of pen against paper resumed.

You were well and truly his hapless pawn now.

#light yagami x y/n #light yagami x you #light headcanons #light yagami x reader #light yagami headcanons #light x reader #light yagami #death note x y/n #death note x you #death note x reader #death note smut #light angst

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girlstuffnorp · 6 months ago

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Julie and the Phantoms Song Recs: McFly Songs that are Sunset Curve/JATP Coded

So, McFly are a big British pop/rock band that have been around since 2003, and are still releasing music and touring at the time of writing in 2024. I saw them perform live in 2023, and loved it. 💖 That tour was to celebrate the release of the most recent album (at the time of writing) - Power To Play - and listening to that album immediately gave me Sunset Curve vibes, and then I subsequently realised that they had been making Sunset Curve/JATP-coded songs throughout their whole career. 🥺💖

Edit: So, McFly are really popular in Brazil, and they released a song with popular Brazilian band Fresno in 2023 as part of the Power To Play album - Broken By You... and I've just discovered that Fresno actually had a cameo in Julie e os Fantasmas (the original Brazilian show that Julie and the Phantoms was adapted from) in episode 3, so this whole post has gained a lot more validity in a '6 degrees of separation' kind of way 😍👏

youtube

I wanted to make a list of songs that I could see Sunset Curve/JATP performing/recording for their potential albums, some that just remind me of the boys, and some fun gems in between - these are all my personal preferences/opinions, so you may think differently, but here is the current tracklist in no particular order. (All with YouTube links of varying quality since a lot of the music videos/live performances give Sunset Curve/JATP vibes too IMO. All [except one] of these songs are also on Spotify etc.):

🎶 God of Rock & Roll (link here) (Screams Sunset Curve for me)

🎶 Where Did All The Guitars Go? (link here) (Also screams Sunset Curve for me)

🎶 Air Guitar (as McBusted with Busted) (link here) (Always reminded me of when the boys realised that people could see them play with Julie)

🎶 Ghostbusters (Live cover of song by Ray Parker Jr.) (link here) (On Youtube, but sadly not on streaming) (Maybe a bonus/hidden track on the album or they would exclusively play live at the gigs - I couldn't not share it because it's awesome from start to finish, and the boys would totally cover it as a joke 👻Also, imagine the boys getting the crowd to do call-and-response with them - iconic 😍)

🎶 I'll Be Ok (link here) (Gives me vibes of the boys helping each other through their crappy family lives in the 90s 🥺)

🎶 Five Colours In Her Hair (link here) (The song written during a jam session - the boys just having a laugh)

🎶 Make It Out Alive (link here) (As soon as I first heard this, the angst and melodrama of the song gave me vibes of the boys being cursed and under Caleb's control at the HGC 🥺)

🎶 Route 55 (link here) (A song all about friends having a great time together during an endless summer)

🎶 Don't Stop Me Now (Charity single cover of Queen) (link here) (They would have totally covered Queen during their jam sessions - respecting some of the best but putting their own fun spin on things 😂)

🎶 Transylvania (link here) (This song always gives me HGC vibes - so gothic and melodramatic, and Dougie's vocals in the chorus?? 😍)

🎶 Party Girl (link here) (Such a guilty pleasure song of mine~ This music video is slightly NSFW since it contains clips of the band's infamous vampire-themed short film that they all starred in 2010 to promote their album at the time [which even the band realise was a bad idea in hindsight, since it was clearly riding the Twilight wave]... but! Listening to this song also gives me ideas for a possible evil Julie possessed/controlled by Caleb - maybe sometime I will write them down~ 👀)

🎶Tonight Is The Night (link here) (A spiritual sequel to I'll Be Ok in my mind - when the boys realise that they're not really okay and need to ask for help to process all the shit that has happened to them - think what Luke went through in Unsaid Emily [and what we presume Alex and Reggie would go through in subsequent seasons] and the boys helping each other through it 🥺)

🎶 Too Close For Comfort (link here) (The obligatory break-up song on an album, and this performed live is everything - just heartbreaking 🥺)

🎶 Umbrella (Live cover of song by Rihanna) (link here) (Julie gives the boys a lesson in popular music during the 25 years that they've been dead, and they decide to surprise her with a fun rock cover of Umbrella to cheer her up one day)

🎶 The Heart Never Lies (link here) (The dramatic love song on an album that is really about the band's bond and sticking together through thick and thin)

🎶 Falling In Love (link here) (The love song that has a music video full of tour footage, which always make me think of the boys in Sunset Curve absolutely loving playing for a crowd, and the bridge/quiet part of the song giving the vibe of Julie, Luke, Alex and Reggie cherishing the moment at the end of Stand Tall before the boys cross over 🥺)

🎶 One For The Radio (link here) (The defiant song for everyone who dismissed Sunset Curve and JATP - I could imagine this as a song written in response to either record companies who wouldn't sign Sunset Curve/JATP, Bobby/Trevor or Caleb. It also gives me vibes of the boys appearing back onto the stage of the Orpheum to perform Stand Tall with Julie - defiant celebration)

🎶 Lies (link here) (The break-up song that gives me vibes of the boys standing up to Caleb. Also is it just me, or does Tom [you can see him at around 0:43 in the video] give Luke vibes in his styling? 😍)

🎶 Forever's Not Enough (link here) (The true love song that Luke writes for Julie, but will never admit that it's for her because he makes the lyrics vague enough 💖)

Tagging @ri-jane @phantomwriter95 @hemeraomara @1mnobodywhoareyou @legolasghosty

@floating-in-the-blue @60sec400

#~ headcanon: scribbling in my tattered looking notebook ~#~ music recs ~#julie and the phantoms #jatp #mcfly #busted #sunset curve #fresno #Youtube

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gucciwins · 7 months ago

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A Family of Three Grows

A/N: Thank you to the lovely Nonnie who brought back inspiration for this story I wrote in 2020 and last gave an update in 2022. Who knew 2024 would be the year I brought it back. This was fun to write and go back to this family's dynamics. Hope you enjoy, my sweet friends 💜

Word count: 3234

Adore You / Three Time / Leather and Lace / Family / Ask

Harry loved his family.

Y/N and Atticus were everything to him and when Y/N broke the news their family was going to be growing, he was over the moon. It’s something they talked about but never rushed because they had Atticus, their sweet angel who would not stop growing.

Atticus was the smartest boy. He was the top of his class and loved to read chapter books with Y/N. Each night, they would read a chapter and discuss their thoughts over breakfast in the morning. Harry’s input was asking questions so he could stay in the loop. Harry still remembered a summer day where he went to run errands, leaving them at home reading in bed and came to find them cuddled with ten books laid on their bed. He knew his son valued this time with the woman he called Mum.

Life had treated them well. Y/N was writing, going to the studio when Atticus was at school. Harry adhered to the schedule and was open to working extra hours. Y/N and Harry were the perfect team. She helped create the entirety of Harry’s house. It was an album he felt captured their life in their own way. The grammy’s that year were a pleasant bonus to round out the amazing year they had.

Y/N and Harry were in the studio today while Atticus was at school. Harry was in no rush to push out a fourth album. He enjoyed being in the studio with Y/N. It made him fall in love with her all over again. The ideas she brought were something he didn’t take for granted.

Y/N was sitting at the piano wearing her favorite oversized Ferrari sweater. The girl clung to her worn-out shirt, despite its tears. Not that he would ever make her. He had his fair share of tattered shirts in his closet.

She was beautiful. How lucky he was to have her as his partner for the past five years. Their family is everything he dreamed of when he was a young boy. Without looking, she called for him to sit beside her on the bench. He did so without a second thought.

“I wrote a song–well, it’s unfinished,” she tells him as she plays the soothing lullaby she wrote for Atticus when he was six years old and was having a hard time sleeping through the night. It’s something she played repeatedly until Atty would fall asleep.

“Can I hear it?”

Y/N shifts. She seemed reluctant to reveal it to him.

“Well, it might not be any good,” she defends, and she pulls her notebook.

Harry frowns. Y/N being insecure in the studio is unheard of unless it’s something she’s been holding in her chest for a long time and is finally letting it out. She passes him the notebook. There’s a picture holding the place she wants him to read. One look at her is all the encouragement he needs to open up the book and read the first words: For Atty.

He reads line by line and by the time he reaches the last words, there are tears fighting to fall from his eyes. Y/N wrote a song for their song. It’s a rough draft, and he knows she wants him to help her finish it.

“Atticus knows how much we love him–how much I love him. But I want him to hear this song and know that my love isn’t something that will ever go away. If anything, it’ll only get stronger.” She tells Harry.

It takes everything in him to not break down because he never expected to be loved this much in life. He expected to be content, but this was beyond anything he could ever dream of. “It’s fucking perfect.”

Y/N shakes her head. “No, it’s not even–”

Harry stops her, reaching for her hand. He brings it to his lips, placing a soft kiss on her hand. “It’s amazing. You wrote a song for our boy. Sure it’s not finished, but you wrote those lyrics calling our sun the light of our life. The reason the world turns. I have never been able to put into words how much he means to me, but you did it.”

“I love you,” Y/N reminds him.

“Love you, too. So fucking much.”

“Will you sing it?” Y/N asks. Those beautiful eyes are staring at him and there is no way he can tell her no.

After so many years together, Harry understands how Y/N writes songs. He can see the melody written out. It’s something that frustrates Tyler because he doesn’t pick up on her cues. Harry tells him not to sweat it, it’s something only they have. Something they have as the perfect pair.

Y/N plays the melody on the piano as Harry sings the lyrics. The longer he sings, the more he feels his throat close up and by the final lyrics, he’s got tears streaming down his face. “I don’t think I can sing it without crying.”

She laughs. “You’ll have to try. I want us to record it for Atty. Maybe get it on a record for him.”

Harry gives her a long kiss. “That sounds like the best idea.”

Y/N and Harry spent the rest of the day in the studio, knowing Atticus was with Anne for the day allowed them the extra time to be in the studio. By the time dinner rolled around, Harry had ordered them food from her favorite Chinese food restaurant. Y/N reminded him three times not to forget her spring rolls. Over dinner, they discussed the song and how they might want to surprise Atticus. Y/N made him promise not to tell him until they could have it produced by their good friend, Tyler. It would take some time, but it would be worth it.

Y/N had a last surprise for Harry. They were back to sitting side by side on the piano bench when she passed him her notebook again. “There is one last surprise,” Y/N tells him. She flips the notebook a few more pages. There is a paper. He thinks nothing of it until Y/N turns it around for him.

A sonogram.

It’s a black photo with a small gray blob in the center. Harry isn’t sure what to think. It can’t be true. Can it?

He squints, picking up the paper, and in the corner has Y/N’s hyphenated name.

“Baby, is this?” He gets out.

“What is it?”

“Are we–are you?” Harry lifts his head to meet her eyes that are brimming with tears. “Are you pregnant?”

Y/N lets out a joyous laugh, one that finds a place deep in his heart. “Yeah,” she confirms. “I’m pregnant. We’re going to have a baby.”

“Oh, my goodness.” Harry looks back down at the sonogram. He wants to know everything, but all he can do is cry. Y/N stands up from the bench to move closer to him. Harry turns his body, resting his head on her stomach, Y/N settles her hands on his shoulder. She lets one run through his hair as he takes in the news that they are going to be giving Atticus a sibling. Something he would ask for constantly. They were making a dream come true.

“Hi, little pea. I’m your Daddy.”

Harry pulls away from Y/N when he hears a loud sob. “I’m sorry,” Y/N apologies for startling him. “That was–I don’t even know how to explain it, but fuck, you’re so amazing.”

He drags Y/N to sit in his lap. Harry holds her close, rocking her back and forth, kissing her neck, whispering, I love you. This is something they talked about endlessly. Atticus was their boy. They had always said their family was perfect. Whether they added to their family or not, they are happy, but getting this addition into their life felt right.

Y/N isn’t sure how much time passes, but she is ready to go home and be with Atticus. As they’re packing up, Y/N steps towards Harry, knowing he might be upset with the only downside to the news of her pregnancy. “H, we can’t tell anyone. Not Atticus. Not even Anne.”

“But love, how do you expect me to resist?”

Y/N’s smile is sincere. She knows he wants to scream it from the rooftops. “It’s early,” she stresses. “I want us to make sure everything is okay. That we make it past this first trimester. I know that’s asking a lot for you.”

Harry shakes his head. “Not at all, Lovie. I understand. Your health and the babies are important. I respect that.”

She gives him a kiss. “Thank you.”

“Let’s get home to our sweet boy.”

They leave the studio with their hearts full.

It’s been three months and Y/N’s doctor gave them the all clear. Their sweet bub is growing at a good rate and Y/N is doing spectacular. No morning sickness, no weird food cravings (yet) and is glowing. Harry was excited because that meant it was time for them to share the news with their family, but most importantly, to Atticus.

Harry spent the day getting the surprise ready. The vinyl was in a special box ready to be opened and then played. They’d be doing that first, then give Atticus the news. While Harry ran around getting everything perfect, Y/N laid in the hammock in their backyard with Atticus. They each had a book in hand. Atticus at 9 was reading the Percy Jackson series, something Y/N was excited about because they were some of her favorite books when she was growing up. Now she got to see her son experience everything she did at his age. It helped that she could answer questions he had, without spoilers, of course.

Y/N set her book down, running her hand through Atticus’ brown locks similar to Harry’s. She knew he’d made a great older brother. She also feared he’d think she’d loved him less with a baby around, which was far from the truth. Atticus was hers, he was her baby boy and nothing or no one could take that from her. Harry likes to joke and say Atticus is her twin instead of his because he takes after her. Atticus has all of Harry’s looks but is everything her child for he has her love of reading. He loves the ocean and could spend hours in there with them. Atty was charismatic and had everyone’s attention as soon as he walked into a room. He exuded confidence and skillfully commanded attention with his voice. Y/N liked to say he picked up on both of their traits, but Harry assured her Atticus was a piece of her. It never failed to make her cry.

“I love you Atticus.” Y/N told him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

Atticus bookmarked the page he was on. “I love you too, Mum.”

Y/N wanted to blurt out the news to Atticus, but knew Harry would be upset she did it without him, so she held it in.

“Forever going to be my sweet boy?” Y/N asks.

“Course. Going to take care of you all my life,” Atticus promises.

Y/N smiles. A very Harry answer. “Much appreciated. I think your dad has got you covered.”

Atticus shrugs, “two of us looking out for you isn’t bad.”

“Glad I’m in safe hands.”

Atticus goes back to reading but Y/N stays lost in thought, waiting for Harry to announce his arrival. It isn’t much longer when Harry rushes through the backyard, box in hand. Y/N sits up, eager to give it to her son, but Atticus doesn’t seem concerned about his reading.

“Hi bud, got you something?” Harry shakes the box softly.

“Two pages left,” Atticus mumbles.

Harry frowns. “This is your fault.” He points at Y/N.

Y/N gasps. “Please, who bought him an entire library?”

“Again you,” he defends.

“Technically, your money.”

“Our money,” Harry corrects.

Atticus is entranced in his reading and Harry uses the time to steal a kiss from Y/N. They refrain from anything too much for Atticus’ sake, but he never minds seeing them give a bit of affection.

“Chapter done,” Atticus shouts. “Gimme. Gimmie.” He makes grabby hands, but Harry shakes his head, telling him they had to head inside.

Y/N holds onto Harry’s arm as Atticus rushes inside to the piano room. It’s his favorite room in their Malibu home. The view is perfect. You can see the tides rolling in, one landing on top of another. The sounds perfect to lull someone to sleep.

Harry sits next to Atticus while Y/N kneels in front of him, her hands pressed together under her chin as she watches him tear the paper. Y/N remembers doing that as a child and knows her mother was a saint for the patience she had. Y/N is close to ripping it herself, but when she sees the brown box, she settles down for a single moment.

Atticus pulls out the record. It’s in a sleeve with a beautiful print of Y/N, Harry and Atticus running through the sand a few months back. Anne had taken it and it became their favorite picture as a family. Harry

thought it would be the perfect fit, and it was. On the top of the cover it read “Atticus’ Song”. His small hands ran over the words as he sounded it out.

“Is this us?”

Y/N stroked his cheek. “Yeah, bubs. It’s for you.”

“Can you play it?” Atticus asks Y/N.

Harry knew Y/N was nervous. Hell, he was too. There was no worse critic than an honest nine-year-old. As Y/N placed the record on the player, Atticus fiddled with the string of the bracelet he made the other day with Harry. They all had a similar one on their wrist, Atticus having made Y/N’s matching them. Y/N walked back, squeezing next to Harry. Atticus closed his eyes to focus on the opening notes of the song. He was just like Harry, a true critic and admirer of all music. This time was no different.

The song was slow and had the melody of a lullaby. Harry’s voice welcomed them into the song, with Y/N’s joining him in the chorus. Y/N saw Atticus’ lip twitch during her solo and she couldn’t help but squeeze Harry’s arm. The song ran its course, and they waited patiently for his thoughts.

“Nice. It was really nice.”

Y/N let out a deep breath she was holding. Atticus cries, and Y/N panics as she swoops him into her lap before Harry can even move. She holds him tight to her chest as she meets Harry’s worried stare.

“Darling, my darling boy. I got you. I always have you.” Y/N whispers, brushing his hair back, trying her best to soothe him. Y/N rocks him back and forth, letting him get out all his emotions.

Atticus pulls back, his sniffles the only sound in the room. “Promise I like it.”

Harry laughs. “Tears would say otherwise, bud.”

“It–I–I” Atticus isn’t sure how to explain what he felt. “Can we play it every day?”

Y/N presses a kiss to his temple. “Anything for you.”

“You wrote it Mumma?”

Harry scoffs in defense. “What if I did? Huh?”

Atticus giggles. “Okay, Dad.”

Harry pouts. Y/N is the stronger song writer, there is no fighting it. “Fine, she wrote most of it.”

“We did it together,” Y/N answers.

“It’s my new favorite.” Atticus declares proudly.

“Good. That’s good. We do have one last surprise.” Harry is eager to share the news.

He stands up and goes for the frame they put the sonogram in for Atticus to keep in his room. While Harry steps out, Y/N settles Atticus in the middle of the sofa for Harry to sit next to him. Honestly, she wants to record this moment but decides it’s better to keep it private between them. Harry comes back with his dimples on display and Atticus is quick to be suspicious.

“Now close your eyes,” Harry orders.

Atticus looks weary but does as he’s told. Harry places the frame in his hands and when Atticus opens his eyes, he is looking at their most recent sonogram. It’s clear there is a baby in the middle with its head and body. Atticus would be quick to put it together, but even if he didn’t, the frame reading “Best Brother” would be a dead giveaway. Atticus’ jaw drops at the news. His eyes were not leaving Y/N’s as if he was waiting for them to say “just kidding” because he had waited a long time for this moment. There was a baby in his mum’s stomach. He was going to be an older brother.

“Is that why you’re always snacking?” Is the first thing Atticus says.

“Atticus,” Harry shouts playfully. Harry spares a glance at Y/N, unsure how she will react. She’s been a weeping mess, even if she denies it’s the pregnancy hormones. Instead, she surprises him by laughing. It’s a full belly laugh that makes her tear up.

It is true Y/N had been snacking recently, always something in her hand from a mandarin to banana chips. Harry had stocked up on different snacks on his weekly run to Tesco. He was sure Y/N had almost finished them, but he didn’t mind making all the extra runs out. Anything for his wife.

“How long do I have to wait to meet them?” Atticus asks when Y/N’s laughter has died down.

Y/N places her hand over her stomach. She hasn’t popped yet, but her doctor told her it would happen soon. Harry had taken photos every day, so she had seen the difference. “About six months to go, Atty.”

His eyes widened. “Too long.”

Harry laughs, pushing back Atticus’ growing curls. “Trust me, I know. But we’ve got an important job during this time.”

Y/N smacks Harry’s shoulder. “You don’t have a job, baby. We want you to keep being you. You can talk to us about the baby, about anything.”

“Can they hear me?” Is his follow up question.

“Mmm, you can talk to them all you like. Your Daddy certainly likes to do so.”

“Hey,” Harry pouts. “Thought you liked it.”

Y/N gives Harry a kiss. “I love it. One of my favorite parts of the day.”

“Okay. Can I do it now?” Atticus asks.

Harry nods and gestures for him to settle on the couch with Y/N. He sits on Y/N’s lap while Harry is quick to try to move him, wanting him to be careful with her. Y/N simply pulls him closer, and it reminds him of how perfect of a mother Y/N already is.

He joins his family on the couch, all snuggled close, while they listen to Atticus talk to his sibling. It’s one of the best days of Harry’s life and he can’t wait to make more memories in a few months’ time. For now, he will enjoy these special moments.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles dad #harry styles and Atticus #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic rec #harry styles story #harry styles one shot #harry styles series #harry styles blurb #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing #harry styles fic

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thefatedthoughtofyou · 2 years ago

Text

The first time Steve touches the guitar Eddie makes a strangled sound in his throat. Steve freezes, looks at Eddie, his mouth is hanging open, and he's frowning. Steve sets the guitar back down, so fucking gently.

"Sorry. I just- sorry." He nearly whispers, stands back up, back straight, his palms moving over his thighs. Eddie clears his throat, shakes his head, removes his black guitar from his lap as he stands.

"No it's okay. I didn't mean to like... make that weird fucking sound. Just um... it was my moms." He says, his hand wrapped around the neck of the black guitar as he holds it at his side. Steve's eyes go wide.

"Shit. I'm sorry. I wouldn've-"

"It's okay really. Here. You can use this one." He holds the guitar out. Smiles when Steve steps closer, hesitant as he raises his hand. Eddie nods. Steve takes it, climbs onto Eddie's bed awkwardly and sets it in his lap. Watching as Eddie gently picks up his mothers guitar and sits back down.

Eddie smiles at Steve, strums a few notes.

"Do you play?" He asks, because Steve's never said anything about playing. Never touched one of Eddie's guitars before. But Eddie had noticed him watching, as Eddie plays, or writes songs, while they hang out.

Steve's at his house a lot these days. Eddie feels like they might be dancing around something. But he hasn't been brave enough to make a move. Or even ask a question. They just... spend time together. He's been teaching Steve about DND for Dustin’s upcoming birthday. Steve wants to surprise him. And he'd been letting Steve read his copies of Lord of the Rings. It's been taking him a while.

But he lays on Eddie's bed while he reads, feet kicked out in the air above him when he lays on his stomach, as Eddie plans his campaigns, or writes songs, and tries not to think about how Steve looks like he belongs there, in Eddie's bed, frowning down at Eddie's tattered books until he looks up and asks Eddie to explain something for him.

And Eddie does. Always.

But this is new. Steve holds Eddie's guitar in his lap, a soft smile on his face, his fingers holding the neck gently. He shakes his head at Eddie's question, just the smallest movement.

"Naw. I always wanted to learn. But my dad always said-" he cuts off, his eyes jumping to Eddie, his cheeks flushing a little. Eddie's never met Steve's father, but he's sure he could guess some of the things he'd said. Steve shakes his head again, tries to smile.

"I just never got around to it. And then things went to shit around here so..." he shrugs, moves his thumb over the strings. Eddie smiles at the sound.

"I like how it feels. Holding it though." Steve says, blinks up at Eddie. Eddie wills his mouth to work, to say something, to say fucking anything, but it doesn't. He just smiles, softly, and nods. Steve looks away, back down at the guitar, and Eddie does the same. Fingers moving over his mother's guitar as he tries to work out the next verse he's writing.

~°~

Two months later he still hasn't said anything. But they have a rhythm now. Eddie's at home, doing whatever it is he's doing that day. Planning, or drawing, or writing. Maybe even just watching tv. Steve shows up, goes to his room, gets the black guitar, and sits with it in his lap, some days until he leaves. And Eddie sits, and watches him, and tries to will himself to say something.

It's a friday. It's raining. And Steve gets off work early, comes to Eddie's. Like always.

He takes a shower, changes clothes, and then crawls into Eddie's bed, guitar settled in his lap. Eddie looks up from his notebook, watches Steve's brow furrow as he moves his fingers over the strings. Just positioning them, not making any sound. Turns out that's all it takes, Steve's little frown.

"I could teach you." Eddie blurts, Steve startles, just a bit, a small flinch before his eyes move to Eddie, brows raised.

"Ya know if you- if you'd want... that." Eddie's lame attempt to backpeddle falling out of his mouth in fragments. But Steve smiles, big and bright.

"Yeah? You'd do that?" He asks, his hand flat against the guitar now, he's practically cradling it to his chest, holding it to himself like it's something special.

Eddie shrugs, tries to play it cool.

"I mean yeah. It's not a big deal. Just, guitar. Kinda my thing." He huffs a laugh when Steve's smile grows impossibly bigger.

"Can we start now? Or are you- you're busy. Planning stuff." Steve voice drifts to a soft dismissive tone, like he's talking himself down. And Eddie hates it. Hates that he's been conditioned to talk himself down from his own excitement. Eddie slaps his notebook shut with a purpose. The noise loud in the quiet room.

"We can absolutely start now. C'mhere." He moves from his desk to the edge of the bed, reaches for his moms guitar, stops, thinks better of it and just settles his hands on his thighs as Steve shuffles to the edge of the bed to sit next to him.

Eddie watches him look at him, waiting, and so fucking close. He can hear the rain on the roof outside.

"Where do we start?" Steve asks, his hands flexing as Eddie watches him.

"I'm gonna teach you some notes. See how well you pick it up." Eddie says, trying hard to keep the smile on his face to a minimum. Steve nods, serious.

"What if I suck at it?" Steve asks, his fingers fluttering nervously over the strings. Eddie looks at him, narrows his eyes.

"You've never played before? At all?" He asks, head tilting. Steve shakes his slowly, his cheeks tinting as he looks at his knees.

"Well then, and I hate to break this to you sweetheart, but you're probably gonna suck. At least a little. At first." Eddie scrunches his nose, delights in the way Steve's mouth drops open as he looks Eddie.

"You gonna be able to handle that? Not being perfect?" Eddie twitches his head to the side, bumps his shoulder into Steve's, Steve rolls his eyes, bumps Eddie back.

"I'll do my best." He huffs, his brow furrowing again as Eddie begins to guide him.

He plays something small, shows Steve how he moves his fingers, and then lets Steve mimic him. He picks it up pretty quick. His ears and cheeks flushing a pretty red when Eddie complements him, tells him he's doing good.

It takes Steve about three hours to realize Eddie had been teaching him a DIO song. He rolls his eyes again, shoves Eddie off the edge of the bed, but goes red again when Eddie says he's proud of him for recognizing it at all.

~°~

A week later, Steve comes rushing into his room, guitar in hand. Eddie had let him take the black acoustic home, so he could practice there as well. He stops short, his legs bumping into Eddie's bed, and then he looks, shy.

"Well good morning to you too Harrington." Eddie sighs, yawns, stretches his hands above his head and smirks as Steve's eyes trail over his stomach, his shirt riding up off his hips.

"Yeah. Morning." Steve says, his voice distant, eyes still focused on Eddie's mid section.

"What can I do you for?" Eddie asks, smirk planted firmly on his lips now. Steve's body jerks, just a fraction, as he tears his eyes away from Eddie's hips, to look at his face.

"What?" He asks, sounding startled. Eddie laughs, shakes his head.

"Forget it. What's up? You looked excited." Eddie says with a shake of his head, pushing himself up in bed a bit. Steve's eyes move to the ground, his fingers tighten on the neck of the guitar.

"I just- wanted to show you something. But you like... just woke up. Did I wake you up?" Steve asks, his voice going high like he's just realized he may have woken Eddie up. Eddie shakes his head, rubs at his eyes, holds back another yawn.

"Whaaaat? No. I've been up for ages." He smiles, watches Steve's face drop.

"Really?" His eyes narrowing as they move over Eddie, pajamas still wrinkled, hair a fucking mess he's sure.

"Yep. Been awake for hours. I mean I woke up at like- what time is it?" He looks at the watch on his wrist, his eyes bugging out.

"It's 7am!?" His voice is high, incredulous, he sounds... maybe a little disgusted. Steve clears his throat, his free hand going to his hip as he looks down at Eddie. Eddie clears his own throat, crossing his arms, schools his face.

"I mean... it's 7am. Which I knew. Because I've been awake since like... 5 o'clock. So 7am is the perfect time. For you to show up here. In my trailer." He glances to the small window in the door outside his room, his face falling a bit.

"Before the sun has risen, even. How... wonderful." His voice is flat by the time he finishes speaking, and he can see Steve trying not to laugh at him.

"I'm sorry I woke you up." He says, and he sounds so sincere Eddie can't even really be mad. He will be taking a nap later though, for sure. He yawns, waves his hand.

"It's fine babe. Just show me whatcha got." He wiggles his fingers at the guitar and Steve flushes, nods, and steps back, sits himself in Eddie's desk chair, and moves the guitar into his lap.

Eddie's heart flutters as Steve starts playing. It always does. Ever since that first day when Steve had picked up the DIO rif he'd shown him. It had been small, but he'd looked so proud of himself when his fingers had danced across the strings perfectly, bringing the tune to life.

Eddie smiles when he recognizes the song, some Billy Joel number Steve was always humming. Eddie had actually been playing peices of it here and there recently, sometimes, without paying attention. But it reminded him of Steve, and so his fingers tended to play it when his mind began to drift.

He smiles as he watches Steve play, his hair falling in his face a little, his brows knitted together in concentration. Eddie bites his lip and refuses to think about moving his fingers over those furrowed brows. Refuses to think about how Steve might let him. Refuses to think about how soft Steve's skin might feel underneath his calloused fingers.

Steve's own fingers pick that moment to stumble, he misses notes, trips up, flushes deeply and curses himself, his head hanging as he stops, takes a deep breathe.

Eddie was proud, he'd gotten better at dealing with messing up. But he could tell he was upset.

"Steve." He says name gently, too genlty, maybe, for this quiet morning in the dark. Steve huffs, but looks up at him.

"I always fuck that part up. It's too fast." He sighs, his voice harsh, he's being hard on himself. And Eddie doesn't know if it's the early morning hour, or the fact that it's still quite dark in his room, or maybe it's the fact that he hadn't slept much and now Steve was in his room. But he scoots back, just a bit, and pats the bed, swinging his legs over the edge.

And his chest flutters again when Steve doesn't even hesitate to come and sit beside him. Doesn't flinch away when Eddie presses close, moves his arm around Steve, curls his fingers over his on the guitar.

He does feel Steve's breathe catch when Eddie sighs across his neck, but he keeps the smirk off his face. Instead he strums the guitar, moves his fingers quickly, hitting the notes that Steve missed with ease. And he almost laughs when Steve turns, his shoulder pressing into Eddie's chest as he gapes at him.

"How did you- you know how to play this song?" Steve asks, his eyes wide. Eddie shrugs, his eyes dropping to Steve's lips, he's so close.

"Parts of it. You hum it a lot." Eddie says, almost whispers between them. Steve's face does some strange movement, jumping between a smile and frown and back again.

"Wait, have you never even heard the song?" Steve asks, his voice accusing.

"I dunno. Maybe like once. It was on in your car that time right?" Eddie shrugs again, looks away from Steve, his cheeks heating in the dark, with Steve so close. And Eddie is still sleep warm, and he swears Steve keeps leaning back into his chest.

"You're not even sure if you've heard the song and you can just play it like that!?" Steve asks, his voice a little louder now. But there's an amused edge to it that Eddie can't shake.

"Yeah. I'm-" he stops, swallows, his palms are starting to sweat so he moves his hands away from Steve's, hears him make a small sound in his throat, and finally, looks back at Steve's face. His features have softened, his eyes still sparkling with amusement, but there's something else there too.

"You can just play things by ear like that?" Steve asks, his voice soft, he's looking at Eddie, really looking at him in the low light of Eddie's room. And Eddie's arms are still wrapped half around him, he swallows, and nods.

"Guess so. Never been great at actually reading music. I don't focus well." He scrunches his nose.

"No. You?" Steve teases, and Eddie feels any lingering insecurities wash away. He shrugs.

"Yeah. I wasn't sure I could teach you actually. And I might have you all messed up. But you're good. Real good." He says it softly, and feels, without a doubt, Steve lean back, pressing his back into Eddie's chest.

"I think you're a good teacher. Maybe a little impatient sometimes." Steve elbows him gently. Eddie flushes, his hand moving to Steve's shoulder.

"Shit was I? I was trying really hard not to be." He frowns, and then Steve is turning, letting the guitar slip slowly to the floor. Eddie gulps, Steve's face is so close, and he's so warm pressed against him. And Eddie might have a real issue here soon if Steve doesn't move out his space.

"No it wasn't bad. I- I kinda like you impatient. You get bossy." Steve laughs, a small, giddy sounding thing, light in his throat. Eddie feels like he might vibrate out of his skin. Steve's hands move to his shirt, resting against his chest.

"You uh- you like when I'm bossy?" Eddie asks, his voice shaking, his hands trembling at his sides, he's moved them away from Steve. Doesn't want him to feel him shaking. Steve nods, once.

"Kinda yeah. Is that bad?" Steve asks, his eyes squinting, nose scrunching. And he sounds like he might be genuinely asking, like Eddie has any fucking clue.

"I don't think so. I'm sure it's fine. I-" Eddie stammers, is about to keep talking, not sure what's gonna come out of his mouth if he does. But Steve beats him to it.

"Why did you offer to teach me to play?" Steve asks, his thumbs move over Eddie's chest gently. Eddie feels his entire body flushing. He doesn't wanna talk about this. Not with Steve. He doesn't wanna scare him away. But Steve is looking at him, soothing his fingers into Eddie's shirt like he knows Eddie feels like he might float away. Like he's trying to ground him. Eddie licks his lips, sinks his teeth into his bottom one, and frowns.

"You can say it. It's okay." Steve assures him, a soft whisper between them.

"I thought you wanted to learn." Eddie says, his voice weak, unsure. Steve nods, slowly, one hand moving up, his fingers gently moving over the hot skin of Eddie's neck. Eddie makes a small wounded sound in his throat, and he swears Steve's eyes darken.

"That all?" Steve asks, his thumb pressing into the rapid heartbeat in Eddie's throat. Eddie shakes his head.

"I wanted to be close to you. But I didn't think that you'd want that... like that. With me. So-" he cuts off, swallows again, his breathe catching in throat. Steve softens in front of him, melts impossibly closer.

"So you offered to teach me to play. And then you curled yourself around me. Touched me. Moved me around like clay in your hands." Steve whispers, pressing closer, and Eddie can't breathe. And he feels guilty, all of a sudden. It burns in his throat, choking him.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have- I shouldn't have done that." He stammers, and he tries to pull away from Steve, weakly. But Steve is stronger, holds him in place, and moves closer, his lips pressing to Eddie's ear.

"Don't be sorry. I liked it. Liked the way you moved me, and touched me, and taught my hands how to move and make music. I liked you pressed against me Eddie." He moved back, smiling at the whine that escaped Eddie's throat.

"I like you. Is- is that okay?" Steve looks shy, somehow, as he says this. After he's set every nerve ending in Eddie's body alight. Eddie nods. His body trembling now.

"Can I kiss you?" Steve breathes between, his hands moving to Eddie's cheeks now, holding him gently, the way he always holds Eddie's guitar.

"Yeah." Eddie nods. Steve smiles. And then a jolt of fear runs through Eddie, his hands land on Steve's chest, harder than he means too, holding him back.

Steve's brow furrows.

"What is it?" He asks, and Eddie almost laughs in his face, he sounds so concerned. But Eddie clears his throat, his eyes falling to his lap.

"I don't know how." He says, his voice so quiet he's not sure Steve will hear him. But it's early morning, and his room is quiet as the sun rises, filling the room with a warm glow, and of course Steve hears him, Steve always hears him. His hands moves under Eddie's chin, lifts head til he's looking at him. And Eddie watches Steve watch him, watches the sweet crooked smile that tilts Steve lips, his breath hitching in his chest as Steve moves his thumb over Eddie's bottom lip.

"I could teach you." Steve says, echoing Eddie's offer from all those weeks ago, and Eddie feels weak. His body shaking as he nods, his mouth frozen. Steve pulls him closer, his hand moving down Eddie's neck again.

"What if I suck at it?" Eddie asks, a wobbly smile fluttering across his face as he echoes Steve, and opens the door for Steve to tell him he will. That he will suck at it, at first, like Eddie had told him. But Steve's eyes darken again, his tongue running along his bottom lip as he stares at Eddie's mouth. Eddie feels trapped, in the best possible way, trapped under Steve's gaze. Steve's head moves slowly, side to side, his eyes still locked on Eddie's lips, Eddie feels Steve's fingers curl into his shirt near his ribs as he pulls him a fraction closer.

"With a mouth like that? I don't think that's possible." He breathes, and Eddie nearly fucking swoons, his hands fisting in Steve's shirt on his chest. Steve smirks at him them, moves the hand near his ribs around Eddie's back, holds him tight.

"I bet you're a natural. And if you're not," Steve presses his lips to Eddie's nose, pulls back.

"I'm willing to teach you. You'll be perfect when I'm done with you." Steve whispers, like it's a secret. It makes Eddie shiver.

"I might be a slow learner?" Eddie asks, his voice shaking but he's teasing now, and Steve smirks again, his fingers curling up into Eddie's hair and pulling, tilting his head to the side.

"God I fucking hope so." Steve almost growls the words against Eddie's lips and then he's kissing him. And despite the growl, and the low dip of his voice, the kiss is sweet. And slow.

Steve moves his lips genlty, let's Eddie get a feel for it. And, to Eddie's relief, doesn't deepen the kiss. His body is so overwhelmed already, he's sure Steve's tongue in his mouth would just send him into a meltdown.

But Steve doesn't press. He just kisses Eddie. Slow. Moves his lips over Eddie's, hums into the kiss when Eddie moves his hand into Steve's hair, hesitant, his hand shaking. Steve's arm around him pulls him closer, until he's tugged Eddie into his lap.

Eddie whimpers as Steve holds him, does his best to kiss Steve back, moves his lips the way he feels Steve's moving against his. Steve pulls back first, his hands moving up Eddie’s back. Eddie frowns down at him.

"Was that okay?" He asks, his fingers drumming nervously against Steve's shoulders. Steve smiles up at him, kisses him again, and Eddie's not sure he'll ever be over that warm press of soft skin.

"It was perfect." Steve says, tucks a lock of Eddie's sleep disheveled hair behind his ear.

"You're good at that." Eddie says, his body shaking against Steve. Steve smiles, and then moves, quick, he flips them over, landing on top of Eddie, hovering over him, his hands planted near his head. Steve leans down, presses close.

"Thank you. So are you." He moves his fingers over Eddie's cheek, fingertips tracing the jagged scar there. Eddie's brow twitches, he tries not to frown. Steve dips, presses his lips to the scar.

"Wanna make a deal?" He asks, lifting back up to look at Eddie.

"Sure. What deal?" Eddie agrees, before he even knows what it is. Steve smiles.

"I'll keep kissing you later. If you-" he stops, looks unsure as he looks down at Eddie. So Eddie reaches up, cups Steve cheek, because he can now.

"If I what?" Eddie whispers.

"If you hold me while we go back to sleep." Steve sounds shy, after everything that just happened.

Eddie smiles up at him, moves his fingertips over Steve's lips now.

"I'll hold you whenever you want. Just don't ever stop kissing me." Eddie says, tugging Steve down on top of him, Steve laughs against his lips and then sighs, deep, and happy, as Eddie wraps his arms around him.

Steve cuddles closer, presses his face into Eddie's chest and just breathes. Eddie listens to his breathing until they both drift off, the sun finally pulling itself over the horizon, Eddie and Steve's shared guitar temporarily forgotten, resting on the floor.

#fates Endless Inkwell #fei #steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #my writing #mine #my fic #inexperienced eddie munson #virgin eddie munson

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wassupmygays · 1 month ago

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"even if death tags along, i dont mind,

its still you and me.

I'll never leave you alone

I'll never leave you alone."

I'll be honest i have been listening to this album On Repeat for the past few weeks and only just now really Heard that first line. oh my god man. this is so important to me. they are so important to me.

just. this entire song is so very beautiful and speaks so much about these two characters. but johnny ending the song by saying he does not care if pony is right about this death around him. he doesnt mind if another horrible thing happens to them, because he will be there. they will be together no matter what. no matter what end is destined for them.

and then i think about ponyboy. this kid who thinks he is somehow causing all of this death. forgetting the frosting, or spitting in a soc's face. Or throwing his cigarette. his best friend in the whole world tells him that no matter what, he will be there with him. they will stick together, and he will never be alone. but then, suddenly, johnny is gone. ponyboy watched him die to a fire that his cigarette caused.

no wonder he was so broken after everything. after everything that happened, and all of their promises, ponyboy felt Alone. johnny was gone and it was his fault. and johnny must have been wrong, back in the church. ponyboy was right after all, and johnny was gone. he left pony alone in the end.

and no wonder he clings to johnny's clothes. that ragged vest that he always wore, with the intricate patterns stitched around the collar. something so loved, so tattered, so johnny. but clutching that pile of clothes to his chest just reminds pony that the boy who wore them is gone. johnny was wrong, and pony was alone.

it isnt until after pony finds Johnny's Letter and starts his theme that he realizes johnny might have been right. he starts to be able to see johnny in everything; in the sunrises, or the gang's laughter during a football game, or in the patterns he doodles in his notebooks. pony starts to see the beauty in the fold, he sees the world with the love that johnny described in his letter. and he feels his best friend in the whole world right there next to him again.

its still you and me

i'll never leave you alone

#i could genuinely talk and think about them forever #i hope this rambling makes sense lol i just kinda started typing #but these thoughts and themes have been rattling around in my head for so long #they mean so much to me #the outsiders musical #the outsiders #outsiders musical #johnny cade #ponyboy curtis #i love them

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ghostchems · 1 month ago

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phantom of the paradise - papa emeritus iv x reader

you go to a special screening of “phantom of the paradise” and end up being taken with the strange man who introduces the film

a/n: listen. i love awkward copia, i really do. but i also love seductive, mysterious, otherworldly copia and that is what this is. there’s just uh kissin’ here. also maybe this is me trying to get Ghost fans to watch this movie bc there’s so much ghost dna in it MAN. 3.7k words ao3 link.

Going to the movies alone never bothered you. In fact, over the years it's become one of your favorite pastimes. You can see whatever you want without worrying about finding a companion. Your taste is… well, it's your taste. Not everyone appreciates experimental '70s films or rock operas, which is exactly what you have planned for today. You've managed to snag a ticket to a rare showing of Brian De Palma's "Phantom of the Paradise" at your local independent theater. You first came across the film a few months ago, watching it nestled on your couch. From the moment it started, you knew it was something special.

You find a seat in the theater's center, perfectly positioned for the screen. Settling in, you cross your legs and place a notebook on your lap. Your pen taps rhythmically as you await the film's start, ready to jot down thoughts for your future Letterboxd review. The theater gradually fills, buzzing with excitement for this cult film on the big screen. You sigh deeply, relaxing into the plush seat. This feels like a well-deserved treat after a long work week, a chance to escape the real world for an hour and a half of drug-fueled musical numbers.

The lights start to dim and the chatter subsides. A man walks out on the stage, immediately capturing the theater’s attention. His appearance is nothing short of ghostly. His face is painted like a skeleton, with stark white bone-like features contrasting against the dark hollows of his eyes and cheeks. What's most striking, however, are his eyes - one a piercing white, the other an eerie green. He's dressed in a stylishly tattered suit jacket paired with a vibrant blue cravat at his neck. You glance down at your notepad and write:

Spooky ghost man.

He approaches the small podium and adjusts the microphone awkwardly. Clearing his throat, he begins to speak with a hint of an Italian accent, his captivating tone immediately drawing in the audience. "Ladies and gentlemen, 'Phantom of the Paradise' isn't just a film to me." He pauses, his mismatched eyes scanning the crowd. "It taught me about the power of music, the price of ambition, and the beauty of the bizarre. It inspired me to embrace my own uniqueness." His words hang in the air for a moment before he concludes, "I hope it moves you as deeply as it moved me. Enjoy the show." His lips quirk into a barely perceptible grin as he taps his notecard against the podium. There’s scattered applause.

The lights dim further, signaling the film's start, yet your gaze remains transfixed on the ghost man, his stark white skull paint a beacon in the darkness. As you attempt to redirect your focus to the screen, a flicker of movement in your peripheral vision catches your attention. The ghost man has silently glided into your row, settling a few seats away. Throughout the film, his presence lingers beside you, more aware of him than you would like to admit. His reactions prove oddly charming—a soft chuckle punctuating comedic moments, a subtle lean forward during tense scenes. What captivates you most is his quiet humming along to select musical numbers, his voice a barely perceptible whisper that, surprisingly, enhances rather than detracts from your enjoyment.

His enthusiasm is palpable, and you can't help but feel intrigued. As "The Hell of It" plays during the end credits, his soft singing drifts to your ears. The haunting melody lingers in the air as you find yourself unconsciously tapping your foot to the rhythm. When the lights slowly come up, you turn to catch a glimpse of the mysterious ghost man, only to find his seat empty. Blinking in surprise, you shift your gaze to your notebook. You realize there are more notes about the him than the movie itself.

Gathering your belongings, you linger in your seat for a moment, still processing the film and the man’s lingering presence beside you. You make your way to the lobby, your eyes scanning the crowd, searching for him. But he's nowhere to be seen. Without thinking, you’re already stepping out onto the street, the cool afternoon air hitting your face. You pause, unsure of what you're looking for or why. That's when you spot him—a flash of white and tattered elegance disappearing into an alley behind the theater. Without thinking, you follow, your footsteps quickening as you approach the narrow passage.

You round the corner, you catch sight of him walking away, unhurried and almost graceful. You hesitate, torn between calling out to him and silently observing this strange, captivating figure as he moves further into the shadows. Suddenly, he stops in his tracks. Without turning around, he speaks, amusement in his voice. "Are you following me, friend?" There's no accusation in his tone, just a gentle question. He slowly turns to face you, his mismatched eyes twinkling with an odd sort of understanding. "I suppose the film wasn't quite enough for you either, hm?" He chuckles softly, seemingly at ease with the situation.

You take a deep breath, gathering your courage. "I... I really liked your introduction," you stammer, feeling a bit foolish. "I'm sorry for following you. I don't usually do this kind of thing."

The ghost man's painted lips curl into a smile. "No need to apologize, tesoro. I tend to have this effect on people. Though, not typically from my film introductions." He takes a step closer, his eyes studying you with curiosity.

"Thank you," you say, offering a small smile. "I thought your introduction was really nice. It added something personal." You hesitate for a moment before continuing. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but... your appearance. Are you like dressed as a character from something?”

The ghost man's smile widens. "Ah, always the question, isn't it?" he says, running a hand through his graying brown hair hair. "This is… eh, me in a way. It’s a long story." He chuckles softly, the sound echoing in the alley. His expression shifts, a hint of shyness creeping into his demeanor. "Perhaps... perhaps it would be easier if I showed you," he says, his eyes searching yours. "Would you like to see?"

"How could you show me?" you ask, curiosity and caution in your voice.

His ghost man's eyes brighten. "There's something not far from here that will explain better than my words ever could," he says, gesturing down the alley. "It's just around the corner."

A part of you suspects this could be a trap. You're reminded of the film—how Leach's initial trust in Swan led to his downfall. Yet, despite the warning bells in your head, you find yourself nodding. "Alright," you say, surprising yourself. "I'll come with you."

The ghost man's painted face softens. "Thank you for trusting me," he says quietly, a hint of warmth in his voice. "This way, per favore." He turns and begins to walk deeper into the alley, his movements slow and deliberate. Your eyes fall to his pants, tattered just like his coat and tight. You trail behind him, notebook still in hand as a sense of unease begins to creep over you. The dimly lit alley seems to go on forever. Where could he be taking you? Why not just explain himself?

After a few minutes of walking, you find yourself standing before a small chapel tucked away a few blocks from downtown. There's something unsettling about its appearance—the weathered stone seems to absorb the dim streetlight, and the windows are dark and opaque. Your gaze falls to a few lone gravestones in the yard. The ghost man gestures towards the entrance.

"After you," he whispers, his voice barely audible. You swallow a breath before pushing open the heavy wooden door. The interior is dimly lit, black flickering candles casting long shadows across the walls. As your eyes adjust to the darkness, you gasp. Directly across from you stands a large stained glass window, its center dominated by a portrait of the ghost man himself. The inscription reads 'Papa Emeritus IV'. The window depicts him in all his skeletal glory, a coy look on his face, a barely perceptible smiles. The craftsmanship is exquisite and with vibrant colors, namely the bright blue robe adorned with intricate yellow and black designs that cloaked him. You turn to Papa, questions forming on your lips, but he's already moving towards the window, his eyes fixed on his own image.

He reaches out, his gloved fingers tracing the outline of his own face in the glass. "This is who I am," he says, his voice echoing in the empty chapel. Papa's finger traces further down to the script on the window: Avē, avē Antichriste! Avē Satana! A shiver runs down your spine as you recognize the Latin phrase. It reminds you of "The Omen." As you absorb the stained glass and the chapel's eerie ambiance, you're struck by how much Papa resembles the Phantom—not of the Paradise, but of the Opera. You can't help but draw parallels between the two figures, especially given that he's all but lured you to his secret lair.

Lost in your thoughts and the mesmerizing stained glass, you fail to notice Papa's approach. You feel his presence behind you — a chill runs down your spine as you feel his breath on your neck. "Beautiful, isn't it?" Papa's voice is soft, almost wistful.

You open your mouth to respond, but the words catch in your throat. Your heart races as you feel Papa's gloved hands gently come to rest on your shoulders. The touch is light, almost comforting, but it sends a jolt of electricity through your body. The stained glass before you seems to shimmer in the candlelight, Papa's painted face both mesmerizing and unsettling. You remain frozen, unable to speak, as Papa's fingers give your shoulders a gentle squeeze.

His touch lingers for a moment before he steps back, allowing you to breathe again. "Tell me," Papa's voice is low, almost hypnotic, "what do you think of my little sanctuary?"

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. "It's... nice," you manage, your voice barely above a whisper. "Like something out of a dream...” Or a nightmare, you think to yourself. You turn to face Papa, his eyes gleaming in the candlelight. "Why did you bring me here?"

Papa's lips curl into a warm smile. "To show you a glimpse of my world," he replies, his voice a low, melodious purr. "As I mentioned, I have an effect on certain people—those with open minds who might be receptive to an offer, perhaps... or simply to satisfy their curiosity."

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued yet cautious, the theme of this encounter. "An offer? What kind of offer?" Your jaw clenches as you recall the film, half-expecting Papa to produce a contract like Swan did with Leach.

Papa's grin widens, revealing a hint of perfectly white teeth. "Ah, curious, aren't we? Well, cara, I represent a rather... unique congregation. We're always looking to expand our flock, so to speak."

"Congregation?"

"Yes," Papa nods and a gust of air makes the candles in the room flicker. "I'm part of what you might call the Satanic church. But, eh, not to worry," he adds quickly, noticing your expression, "it’s not what you think. We're about celebrating individuality, embracing the unconventional, and most importantly... music."

You blink, struggling to process this information. "Music?" The connection suddenly clicks. "That explains why you sponsored the film."

"Oh yes," Papa says, his voice taking on a passionate tone. "Music is at the heart of what we do. It's how we express ourselves, how we connect with each other and the world around us. We have a band of ghouls and I am the bandleader — eh, but that is not my only job. It is my favorite part, though. Other than sponsoring cult films, of course.”

You hesitate, your eyes darting around the small chapel. There's an undeniable allure to Papa's words and presence, but a nagging voice in your head warns you this could be a trick. Yet, something about his sincerity and the passion in his voice when he speaks of music resonates with you.

"I... I'm not sure," you say, your voice wavering slightly. "All I had planned for today was to see a movie… not this."

Papa's expression softens. "I saw you in the theater. Your passion for the film, your openness to the unconventional. I, eh, thought you might be someone who could appreciate what we offer. Someone who might want to... explore a bit further." His words strike a chord within you, resonating with a part of yourself you didn't know existed. Your heart flutters, excitement and nervousness coursing through your veins. As if sensing your stress, Papa reaches out, his gloved hand gently cupping your face. His thumb brushes along your jaw, the touch electrifying and soothing.

"There's no need to decide right now," Papa murmurs, his mismatched eyes locked with yours. "But perhaps... a taste of what we offer?" His painted lips curl into a soft, inviting smile.

Your heart races, feeling trapped. Is this really happening? You know the smart thing would be to leave, to get far away from here and forget this ever happened. But, you find yourself unable to tear your gaze away from his piercing white eye.

"I... I think I'd like that," you whisper, your voice barely audible in the hushed chapel. A burning curiosity has taken hold of you, one you can't shake. Papa's otherworldly aura envelops you, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. His hand drifts from your cheek to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair. With his other hand, he takes your notebook—the last barrier between you—and tosses it over his shoulder.

Your breath catches in your throat as Papa leans in, his painted face drawing closer. As his lips meet yours, time seems to slow. The kiss is unlike anything you've ever experienced—soft yet electrifying, tender yet passionate. The gentle pressure of his lips sends waves of heat through your body, each one more intense than the last. You find yourself leaning into him, your hands instinctively reaching for his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his tattered coat. Papa's arms encircle your waist, pulling you closer until you're pressed against him. The scent of incense, candlewax, and a hint of brimstone envelops you, making your head spin.

His lips move against yours with increasing fervor, and you feel yourself getting lost in the sensuality of the moment. The kiss deepens, and you taste a hint of something sweet on his tongue. It's intoxicating, addictive, and you find yourself wanting more. His gloved hands tangle in your hair, pulling you closer as his tongue explores your mouth with skilled precision. Your knees weaken, and you cling to him for support, your fingers digging into the fabric of his coat. The kiss seems to last for an eternity, stealing your breath and leaving you dizzy with desire. When Papa finally pulls away, you gasp for air, your chest heaving. Your lips feel swollen and sensitive, tingling with the lingering effects of his touch.

His appearance is noticeably more disheveled now, his painted face slightly smudged and his tattered coat askew. His mismatched eyes gleam with a wild intensity, and his chest rises and falls rapidly, mirroring your own breathlessness. It's clear that the kiss affected him just as profoundly as it did you. His gloved hands still rest on your waist, his grip firm yet gentle.

"My, my," he purrs, his voice husky and low. "You are full of surprises, aren't you?" A sly smile plays on his lips as he regards you with a mixture of admiration and desire. The candles in the chapel seem to flicker more intensely, casting dancing shadows across his painted features. “May I kiss you again?” When he asks so politely, how can you say no?

"Yes," you breathe, barely audible even to yourself. "Please."

Papa's eyes flash with desire as he swiftly lifts you, his surprising strength catching you off guard. He sets you down on the altar, the cold stone a stark contrast to your heated skin. His lips crash against yours once more, hungry and demanding. His gloved hands roam your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. You arch into his touch, lost in his enveloping presence. He draws your lower lip into his mouth, dragging his teeth along it, eliciting a gasp from you.

He plants a few kisses to the corner of your mouth, then drifts to your jaw and further down. His lips trace a tantalizing path along your jawline, each touch sending shivers down your spine. As he reaches the sensitive spot just below your ear, you feel his hot breath against your skin, causing goosebumps. Papa's kisses become more insistent as he moves down your neck with soft, feather-light touches and more passionate, open-mouthed kisses. Your breath hitches as he finds a particularly sensitive spot at the base of your neck and you can feel his lips curl into a smile against your skin.

You can't help but wonder if you've crossed a line you can't come back from — but do you really care at the moment?

Papa lifts his head to meet your gaze, his face paint now thoroughly smeared. You wonder if any has transferred onto you. He leans in, his strong nose brushing along your cheek as he presses his forehead against yours. Suddenly, the candles flicker out, plunging you both into darkness—save for the ethereal glow of the stained glass window. He rests hands resting on either side of you and his chest heaves with each breath. His ghostly eyes, glazed with desire, lock onto yours as he watches you catch your breath. "Will you consider joining my flock?" he asks, his voice husky.

You struggle to catch your breath, your mind still hazy from the intensity. "I... I'll think about it," you manage to say between gasps, your voice barely above a whisper. The weight of his offer hangs in the air.

Papa's lips curl into a grin, his eyes gleaming in the candlelight. "Take all the time you need, tesoro," he purrs. "When you're ready… I'll find you." He leans in, his painted face mere inches from yours. His gaze searches your face, a flicker of softness in its depths. With careful gentleness, he presses his lips to yours. This kiss is vastly different from his other kisses — tender, almost romantic. As he pulls away, you feel a pang of loss. Papa's smile returns as he takes a step back, his gaze never leaving yours. "Until we meet again," he murmurs.

You watch as he turns and walks away, his footsteps echoing in the small chapel, growing fainter until they fade entirely. Left alone on the edge of the altar, you're surrounded by flickering candles and the lingering scent of incense. A part of you considers calling out, asking him to stay, but something holds you back. In the end, you let him go. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. Your legs feel shaky as you slide off the altar, adjusting your clothes with trembling hands. The cool air of the chapel hits your flushed skin, bringing you back to reality. Eye scan the dimly lit space, searching for your notebook. You spot it on a nearby pew, right where you must have dropped it earlier. Opening the notebook to a fresh page, you fumble for your pen. Your hand is still unsteady as you begin to scribble down the man’s name and the Latin on the stained glass, a reminder of the otherworldly encounter you just had.

With one last glance around the empty chapel, you clutch your notebook to your chest and make your way towards the exit. The outside world feels startlingly normal after what you've just experienced. Your feet hit the ground with renewed purpose as you head back to your apartment.

Your mind wanders as you walk home. You can't help but wonder if Papa's offer is similar to Swan's - a large contract signed in blood that would bind you to him until death. Perhaps you’re being dramatic. He seemed to model himself after the phantom, but you're not so sure of his intentions. There's something more sinister about Papa that sets him apart. The way he moved, the intensity of his gaze, the power of his touch - it all hints at something beyond human. You shiver, remembering the electrifying sensation of his kiss, the intoxicating taste on his tongue. Part of you is terrified, but another part is thrilled by his allure.

You approach your apartment but you find yourself glancing over your shoulder, half-expecting to see Papa's striking figure materialize from the shadows. The memory of his touch lingers on your skin, and you can still taste the sweetness of his kiss on your lips. You unlock your door with trembling hands and quickly close it once inside, leaning against it with a slow exhale. Your eyes fall on your laptop, and a sudden urge overtakes you. You rush to it, opening a new browser window. Your fingers hover over the keyboard for a moment before you type: "Papa Emeritus IV”.

There he is, Papa Emeritus IV, in all his ghoulish glory. The images match perfectly with the man you encountered in the chapel - the skull-like face paint, and his haunting white eye. You scroll through countless photos, some showing him in the tattered suit you saw today, others in the more elaborate robes depicted in the stained glass window. Your heart races as you dig deeper. The Satanic church he mentioned? It's real, though perhaps not in the traditional sense you might have imagined. It's more of a theatrical rock band called Ghost, with Papa as the frontman. Their music videos and live performances are a spectacle of occult imagery and rock opera grandeur, reminiscent of the very film you just watched.

Everything Papa told you checks out. The band of ghouls, his role as the bandleader, the emphasis on individuality and unconventional expression - it's all there, laid out in interviews, fan forums, and official band statements. You even find mentions of their penchant for sponsoring cult film screenings, just like the one you attended. As you lean back in your chair, a mix of emotions washes over you. Relief at him telling you the truth, confusion at his theatrics. Your fingers unconsciously trace your lips, remembering the electrifying kiss.

You can't help but wonder: what would joining his "flock" truly entail?

#papa emeritus iv x reader #papa emeritus iv #copia #cardinal copia #ghost band fanfic #Maybe… maybe there will be more

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mandiemegatron · 2 months ago

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𝙅𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝘾𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙃𝙤𝙢𝙚

𝙇𝙤𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙒𝙖𝙧 𝙥𝙩. 2

𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎 ; 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝, 𝙇𝙖𝙬 𝙗𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙥𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙘𝙧𝙖𝙯𝙮 𝙖𝙨 𝙁𝙐𝘾𝙆, 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙩, 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠, 𝙆𝙞𝙙 𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙨𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙮 𝙗𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙮 𝙥𝙞𝙚𝙘𝙚𝙨, 𝙜𝙤𝙧𝙚.

ᴸᵒˢⁱⁿᵍ ᵀʰᵉ ᵂᵃʳ ᵖᵃʳᵗ ᵒⁿᵉ ʰᵉʳᵉ ♡

A/N: ... yeah. This one hurt. It's rare that my own works make me sob the way this one did, I had to stop at one point and message my beta because it was 😭😭 good god. Just so yall are prepared.

Water anon, this ones for you. You asked for nothing but utter heartbreak and I hope I've delivered.

Thank you all for your patience with this, I'm truly so sorry this took so long but once you read it, you'll understand why. My heart is heavy and now I need to go smoke a fat blunt!

I love yall so much, a huge huge thank you to my beta Moss for their continued support and help.

“... Eustass…”

Kid shuffles in his sleep as a breathy voice rings out his name. He groans softly to himself before turning in his bed, his arm flopping over his face to shield his closed eyes from the beginning rays of sunshine.

“... Eustass…”

Eustass Kid rises from his deep slumber with a start, his eyes shooting open as a voice that once echoed over the entirety of the Victoria Punk sighs in his ears.

He sits up with a grunt, eyes almost frantically glancing over his empty room, only to take in exactly what he already knew - you were not there.

He glances down to his fleshy fist, frowning deeply as he takes in your now torn and tattered shirt - one he had hand picked out for you a few weeks after you'd joined - and he tosses it aside his pillow before holding his exhausted face in that same hand.

There's a rough knock on his door and he grunted again, though this time louder so the knocker knew he was awake.

Heat peeks through the door as he opens it, head tilted mutely as he takes in his Captain.

“... rough night, man?”

Kid huffs and glares at Heat before throwing his legs over the bed and stretching, his stump shaking slightly at the ferocity of the stretch.

“Could have been better.” Kid murmurs honestly, his voice still rough and low from sleep. He slowly rises from his bed and slips into his patterned pants and throws his billowy shirt over his limb, grimacing to himself as the fabric scrapes against his stump.

If Heat notices, he smartly says nothing to it, only giving a slight nod as Kid finally makes his way out of his room.

They're only a few steps out from Kids room when Heat suddenly speaks up, his tone even though clearly careful in his approach.

“We've… had reports about you know who that-”

Kid stops in his tracks, knowing exactly what Heat was about to say and shuts him up with a ferocious glare, lips pressed into a thin line to show his displeasure. Heat simply sighs and walks past him, shaking his head slightly as he mumbles to himself.

Kid huffs again and immediately turns around, deciding to go right to his workshop instead.

He didn't have an appetite anymore anyways.

As Kid enters his workshop, he immediately begins brainstorming ideas, wanting to bury himself in random work just to occupy the rampant thoughts that plagued his mind. He activates his devil fruit and scrap metal whips past him as he sits down, pulling a few boxes out from under his main wooden table and nearly tossing them up top.

Eustass grumbles and mutters to himself, ignoring the aching in his chest as he stumbles upon a few welded pieces of scrap you had been fiddling with, tossing them into a “destroy” box off to the side without a second thought.

Every few days he comes across something else you'd left behind - one day was a small notebook and pen, filled with scribbles of the crew (but mostly him), a handful of necklaces and bracelets over the next few, and now lately, it had been this.

Six months had already passed and to Eustass, it had been an eternity. Nights flew by where he didn't sleep, taken over by a bitter motivation to finish whatever project he threw himself into, desperate to not fall asleep to see you sleeping beside him in his dreams.

An angry and hurt sigh left Kid as he tossed the first box behind him, ignoring the loud clashing of the metal inside hitting the floor like sharp thunder. More of your little inventions fell out, clearly the cause of his distress.

“Fuckin’ ridiculous,” he furiously mutters to himself as he sifts through the second box. “You're lettin’ some fuckin’ broad take over your damn thoughts like some-”

“Kid, you alright?”

Kids head whips to the door, glaring darkly at Killer who had popped his head in, a deep set frown hiding behind the mask as he takes in the wrecked room. Killer lets out a low whistle before looking back at Kid with a slightly tilted head.

“... you got a pretty big mess there, man.”

Kid is eerily silent as he turns back to going through the box, deciding not to give Killer a response.

Killer blinks a few times behind the mask before sighing heavily and pushing his way into the workshop. He slides into the chair you used to take up and bluntly bites out,

“Kid, enough is enough.”

Eustass still stays silent.

Killer continues, “You have got to snap out of it. You made a mistake, you paid for it, and now you have to live with the consequences. This childish attitude isn't very Captain like.”

Kid freezes, a silent fury burning up in his stomach, threatening to spill out of his throat.

Killer sits back, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he continues his verbal assault.

“Kid, we looked for her everywhere. Either something happened to her, which is out of our control, or she made her choice not to come out, and if that was the case, then it is what it is. But taking your bullshit out on the crew is un-fucking-acceptable, and it's not going to continue to happen.”

Killer doesn't even have a chance to prepare himself as Kid throws himself at the blonde, shouting threats as he aims a wicked fist at the mask. Killers hand grips Kid's fist right before it smashes the mask, the blonde huffing as he struggles against Kid.

“K-kid! Stop man, what the fuck!”

The two struggle, fists flying and finally Kid's fleshy knuckles meet the mask, cracking it right down the eye. Kid suddenly freezes, blood dripping down his clenched fist and staining the wooden workshop floor beside Killer's head. The two breathe heavily, the adrenaline finally running low as Kid furiously croaks out,

“It's fuckin’ bullshit.”

Killer's heart breaks for Kid as he watches the depression eventually seeps through the anger, finally snuffing out the spark of fury in the Captain.

“I gave her everything’, man,” Kid spills out, sitting back on his calves as he stares past Killers face into the bloodied floor, eyes empty and haunted. “I gave her every fuckin’ piece of me and then tossed her away.”

Killer sits up with a grunt, his hand slightly shaky as he gingerly touches the crack on his mask. While the two fought sometimes, it was rare if not never that Kid had ever snapped at his mask like this. Deciding to put his own ache aside, Killer speaks up,

“This is called ‘your actions have fucking consequences’, Kid. Put yourself in her shoes - how would you have felt if you'd come across her fucking some random dude?”

Kid's nostrils flare with a huff, clearly unimpressed.

Killer gestures broadly at his action with a comment of, “Exactly. You expected her to come home with open arms, ready to sleep in the same bed you just fucked some random woman in?”

Eustass flinches as Killer says “home”, having already forgotten the way that word used to fall from your lips, how you'd loved the ship more than most of the crew. Kid squeezes his eyes shut, trying to focus on the pain in his fist as he finally hisses out,

“I get it.”

Killer pulls himself off the floor before he barks back, “Do you? Because it's been months, and you're still sitting here, acting like she didn't have a right to put her foot down. She loved you, man.”

Kid remains kneeled on the floor, his eyes holding an echo of colour as he slowly looks up to his first mate and best friend.

“... I really fucked up, Kil.”

Killer purses his lips together under the mask, giving a soft sigh through his nose before he replies gently, “Yeah Kid, you did.”

Killer holds out a hand for Kid to take, which he does after staring at it blankly for a few moments. When he finally stands, Kid barely gets out,

“... sorry.”

Killer gives Kid a small nod, accepting the apology at face value with a heavy clap on Kid's shoulder. “We're good.”

The two share a moment of silence, their eyes communicating better than any words could say. Killer gives Kid a slight shake before he finally asks,

“You gonna come eat with your crew or you want me to bring you something here?”

Kid shakes his head and honestly replies,

“I gotta get outta here. I'm sitting with my crew, like I should have been doing.”

Pride washes over Killer at seeing his Captain and best friend slowly come back to his senses. “Atta boy, let's go eat some grub, while there's still food left.”

Killer motions for Kid to follow, but the Captain remains in his spot. Killer tilts his head slightly and before he can ask, Kid promises thickly,

“I'm gonna find her, Kil. I'm gonna find her and bring her home, and I'm gonna make it up to her. You'll see.”

Stuck between wanting to support him and wanting to smack the stupid out of him, Killer decides to remain silent, giving Kid only a slight nod before walking out of the workshop.

“Lift it just a bit higher, Y/N!”

You huff to yourself and nearly raise yourself up on your toes to hold the metal plate just a smidgen higher. There's a whoop of delight before the metal is finally welded to the wall. You take a few, slow breaths as your arms begin to ache, sweat dotting your forehead as you call out,

“Eh uh, Shachi, you almost done? This is getting really heavy…”

There's a loud whir from above your head and Shachi calls back, “You're good! Move back!”

You let your arms fall down with a groan and you step back, now able to crane your head up enough to see just how the repairs were going. Ikkaku and Shachi clearly knew what they were doing, the redhead following her orders with absolute ease.

“You alright, Y/N-ya?”

A warm hand meets your shoulder and you turn, grinning up at your now Captain as you reply,

“Hey boss! Yeah, I'm good, just wasn't expecting to be doing this much heavy lifting today.”

Trafalgar Law looks down at you with a slight smirk, head tilted slightly as he asks,

“Is this your way of telling me you didn't expect the random sea-king attack?”

You can't help but snicker at his words, playfully jabbing at his side before joking back, “Ha! My gift of foresight doesn't work underwater, apparently. Forgive me, Captain.”

Law gives a soft tsk as your jab, swatting your hand away gently before he half-jokes, “Unfortunately, there will be no forgiveness today. To the infirmary, YN-ya, there's more mess for you to clean.”

You sigh and roll your eyes playfully before flashing him another grin and waving off your fellow boiler suited friends.

It was a very thin line, the one that you and Law seemed to dance on in the last few weeks. For so long, you'd felt like an unwilling guest on the ship, even with how kind and welcoming the Heart Pirates had been; now you'd felt like perhaps becoming a Heart Pirate yourself was genuinely a blessing.

There was what felt like an unspoken rule between you two. Step close, but never so close enough for it to mean something. Say something sweet, but nothing so sweet as to make you ache. Touch gently, but not so often that it might look too gentle.

As precarious and almost confused as you felt about the situation, you did your best to remain as neutral though genuine as possible while dealing with Law, trying to keep your heart locked up lest another Captain decide to crush it in his hand. That was not an ache you wanted to deal with ever again.

You sighed in slight frustration at seeing the main medicine cabinet open and nearly empty, bottles of pills and vials of whatever Law kept in the cabinet strewn over the entire medical bay, along with papers and file folders from the multi drawer desk beside it. You immediately began to pick things up, having to take a few seconds as you tried to remember where everything went, knowing Law would come in at some point and fix any mistakes.

You were about half-way through when the med bay door opened then shut, the soft click of familiar boots echoing slightly until they stopped just behind you. You gave an exaggerated sigh and glanced up over your shoulder, ignoring the slight burn in your cheeks at how close Law actually was.

He was staring at the open cabinet, his eyes moving over each bottle and vial before you jokingly asked, “See any issues, Captain?”

Law blinks before looking down at you, mirth in his gaze as he jokingly snarks back, “Actually, yes.” He leans over your shoulder, his chest pressed against your shoulder blade as he reaches into the cabinet and moves four bottles around. “The dosage was in the wrong order. Always low to high, you know that.”

You turned back to the bottles and hummed to yourself in agreement, mentally noting to always read the fine print in the future. “You're right, good catch.”

He raises an eyebrow with a hum of his own before moving back and resting against the desk beside the cabinet, his arms crossing over his chest as he comments,

“You seem to be fitting in quite well, it seems.”

You placed a few more bottles inside silently, giving a slight shrug before throwing him a small smile. “I like to think so.”

Law nods minutely, tilting his head a little as he asks, “Did Eustass-ya's crew treat you similarly?” He waits a beat before adding almost gently, “If you're comfortable with sharing, of course.”

Your nose bitterly twitched into a scrunch for not half a second before you genuinely replied in a flat tone, “Yes. They treated me just fine.”

You already know what Law's about to ask so you cut him off with an exhausted, “You ask me about Kid every other fuckin’ week, I don't know why you're so nosey about him.”

Law smirked slightly, giving a laughing huff as he leaned back slightly, taking you in before he replied smoothly, “I'm not nosey, I'm just interested in information about my enemy.” He frowns at you mocking him with your hand, your fingers talking at the same speed as him and he snaps, “Don't be rude. Are you a toddler?”

You stick your tongue out at him before frowning, going back to trying to finish your duty with a little more aggression to your motions. “Don't you have anything better to do than bully me?”

Law can't help but chuckle at you, shaking his head with a playful sigh before he stands straight and walks towards the door. He calls over his shoulder, “Dinner is soon, don't be late, or I'll ground you.” He doesn't flinch when a pen whips past his head and embeds into the metal door, instead he frowns and turns back to you with a sharp, “Oi! Don't put holes in my fucking ship! Don't think I won't toss your ass overboard!”

You roll your eyes and place the last few bottles inside before finally locking up the cabinet and moving onto the papers and files splayed over the floor like a shitty confetti toss. You hear Law grumble and rip the pen out of the door before it gets tossed and rolls just off to the side from you. “Don't fuck anything up, Y/N. If you want to even think about taking a step off this ship to explore the island tomorrow, everything better be a hundred and ten percent perfect.”

Your heart sinks slightly at the bite in his tone, knowing you'd taken a step too far. “Yes, sir.” You muttered before kneeling down and beginning to shuffle through the sheets. Luckily, most file folders were nearly intact, only a few pages missing and close by that you could begin matching them properly. You couldn't stop from flinching when the door slammed shut, your head bowed low in near shame as you silently picked up more papers.

You sighed to yourself as you bit back tears, his last question playing over and over in your head as you began to think about your old crew. Cold nights like tonight, you'd be curled up in Kid's red jacket, your tired eyes lovingly watching him as he fiddles over another small trinket or invention, laughs bubbling up as Kid made butterflies flutter around you, a gentle and adoring look on his face as he looks back at you. You angrily wiped at your face as tears streamed down, trying not to let them fall and stain the white sheets around you.

“You made your choice, you made your choice, you're not allowed to cry about it, you made your choice…” your voice cracked in sorrow as you murmured to yourself, your hands pressing against your eyes to try and stop the onslaught of tears. “You did this to yourself, this is your fault, this is your fault…” Your broken heart shattered a little more as the grief took over.

Unbeknownst to you, Law stood outside the door, having cracked it open slightly after he slammed it, curious if you were going to curse him out but his mind fell silent as he listened to you fall apart and blame yourself. A curiosity filled him as you silently wept, your soft whimpers and sniffles clenching around his heart like a fiery grip.

He stalked off to his office after a few more moments, unable to listen any longer to your tears. His mind raced as he tried to think of reasons why you'd blamed yourself, wondering just how bad Eustass Kid broke you for you to get to this point.

He was determined to find out everything, the curiosity growing almost desperately. Every piece of information you could give him about Kid gave Law a step up in the race to becoming the Pirate King, and he decided then he would rip the information out of you if he had to.

A little smirk washed over Law's lips as he thought about it. He was the Surgeon Of Death, wasn't he? Adding you to the crew's roster was mostly a chance to gain any information on Kid and even though Law felt some form of affection for you, his priorities were in order and you were not one, romantically at least. Not that you had to know.

After all, if you'd lost your loyalty to Kid over a little heartbreak, what's to say you wouldn't do the same to him? Law rationalized with himself over and over, ignoring the slight gnawing in his stomach at the thought of manipulating you, instead hardening his heart over and over while trying to silence his mind.

Sometimes he hated the sheer amount of empathy he felt for you.

“Look.”

Kid glances off to the side of the ship where Killer points, his brow ridge furrowing as he takes in the bright yellow submarine that breaks through the waves. He gives a grunt, rolling his eyes before turning away from the sub to take in his crew.

“You all know what your duties are. Those staying on the ship, keep her safe. Those heading to shore, you've got til sundown to be back.”

He gives a nod toward shore just as the Polar Tang settles into a stop, dropping anchor far enough away that Kid questions if that shitty Trafalgar could see the Victoria Punk from their position.

“What do we do about-” Bubblegum is cut off by Killer, who raises a sharp hand and shakes his head. Bubblegum gives him an understanding nod before heading off the ship with Reck, Hip, and UK following behind.

There's a tense silence between Kid, Killer, and the few remaining Kid pirates on deck. Kid's amber eyes narrow as he watches the Heart pirates slowly come out of the sub, lingering on deck before a handful of them jumped ship and began walking towards the same town. Kid grunts again as he takes in the shape of the Heart’s mink, trailing behind a woman who spoke in an animated fashion, her hands moving as if she were telling a story.

It seemed… familiar.

“Is… is that…?”

Kids entire body tenses as Killer murmurs, shock slowly falling over the deck as Dive suddenly shouts, “That's-!”

Not a second later, Kid is jumping off his ship and is rushing towards the mink, ignoring the almost panicked shouts from his crew as his long legs thump against the gravel. His heart races anxiously, getting closer and closer until he's tackled off to the side, shouting angrily as he hits the ground.

“Kid, stop!”

He snarls and lashes out, only to stop as he takes in Killer's mask, mere inches from his face. “Calm down man, think about this.”

Kid goes to reply when he stops and an all too familiar voice calls out from the surrounding trees,

“K-Kid? Killer?”

Both men pull away from each other and look up, both of them surprised and in shock as you stand there, the bear mink just behind you, looking like a nervous wreck.

“Y/N…”

You turn to Bepo and give him a gentle push, telling him to keep going. “I'll catch up.” Bepo looks unconvinced, crossing his arms over his orange jumpsuit and giving you an anxious look as he somehow gets out, “C-captain wouldn't be happy if I-”

You give the mink a dark look, giving him a slight frown as you repeat yourself, “Go on ahead, I'll catch up.”

Kid and Killer stand slowly, watching between you two before Bepo finally gives in, hating to leave you but also not enjoying the look you were giving him. He glares at the two men before finally turning to walk away, though he walks back towards the sub instead, which makes you frown a little deeper.

You turn back to your ex love and Captain, an ache in your chest that felt like a fiery grip and it took you a good moment to finally speak up, your tone curt and to the point.

“... I'm glad you guys are okay.”

Kid bristles, a snarl on his lips though the pain in his eyes spoke louder.

“Bullshit.”

You flinch at the harshness of Kids words, your eyes downcast for a moment as you bite back,

“It's not.”

Killer decides to step in, mediating the situation by genuinely commenting,

“You're lookin’ good, Y/N.”

There's a small smile on your lips at that though it disappears as quickly as it came. You give a slight shrug before replying back,

“I'm…” You struggle to find the right words. “alive, I suppose.”

You look back to Kid and the look on his face makes you want to disappear into the dirt beneath your feet.

“... you fuckin’ left.”

Your heart lurches at Kid's words, one of your hands unconsciously gripping over your heart as you snapped back sadly, “You fuckin’ cheated.”

Kid at least has the mind to look guilty, his arms crossing over his chest as he huffs out a sigh. “... I fucked up, Y/N.” He stares you down as he bites out, “‘M sorry.”

Fury rose in your chest at his apology, the pain you'd felt for the last over half a year finally rising in your throat as you unleashed all your hurt onto him. “You're sorry? You took some whore into our bed, abandoned me on a random fucking island and you're SORRY?!”

Both men take a slight step back, not expecting the absolute rage bursting from your entire form. Kid sneers slightly, trying not to lose his temper as you continue, “You left me behind! You fucking promised me you'd never leave me behind, and then you did. How am I supposed to forgive you?”

Kid huffs and snarks back, “Like this, ‘I forgive you, let's go home’, that's not so goddamn difficult, is it?” His voice goes a few octaves higher when mimicking you which only infuriates you more.

“That easy, eh?! Just so easy for you to welcome me back and what, I just forget it even happened and that you didn't absolutely destroy my heart?!” You picked up a few rocks and began throwing them at Kid, the redhead having to pull his metal hand up to protect his face from your wicked aim. “You! Left! Me! Behind!”

“Y/N, just listen to him!”

You give a scream of outrage towards Killer and whip a rock at him as well, furious at the way he slices it into dust. “You said you weren't going to make excuses for him, so why are you doing it now?!”

Killer then holds his hands up, palms towards you as he asks sharply, “Just listen! No one is making any excuses!”

You throw one more and he catches it, throwing it back so hard it whizzes past your face, slicing a small cut into your cheek. Tears blind you as you scream back, “What did I do to deserve that?!”

“Nothing, goddamnit!”

You wipe at your eyes when Kid shouts, his body shaking in barely contained anger as he continues, “I fucked up! You didn't do anything wrong, I did. I took advantage of your love and I'm fucking sorry, okay?!”

You throw another rock at him and it hits his goggles, cracking the right eye. He doesn't move, continuing to stare you down as he pours his soul out to you.

“I fucked up, I fucked up by fucking some random bitch and ignoring how that shit would've made you feel, I left you behind because you made your choice to fucking run away instead of knockin’ some fuckin’ sense into me so I thought you just… didn't love me.”

Your tears came back full force, your brows furrowing as a weak sob leaves your lips. You go to retort when he cuts you off with an almost depressed,

“But I can't fuckin’ live without you.”

You crossed your arms, trying to keep your heart from further cracking and falling apart. “Kid…” You start, only to stop as he takes a few, slow steps closer as he continues,

“I can't breathe without you, I can't fuckin’ sleep, I can't wake up another goddamn day without you because you are my everything, you are my treasure.”

You stay put as he steps closer still, only a few feet from you that you could reach out and touch him. You're half tempted to punch him but remain unmoved, simply staring up at him with sad eyes.

“Y/N… babe, please…”

Your eyes widen slightly, unable to ignore the tug your soul gave towards his. He rarely, if ever, said please, especially like the way he did just now. Tears well up in your eyes again as he whispers,

“Please come home.”

In a flash, there's a blue swirl around him and he's teleported back to where he stood before, his ass hitting the ground beside Killer as a shout of confusion leaves him.

“Y/N-ya.”

You freeze, panic settling under your skin as you slowly turn to your now Captain, a cross-armed Bepo not far behind him. You sigh a disappointed “tsk…”, giving Bepo a betrayed look before you reply to your Captain with a blank look.

“Sir.”

Kid and Killer both sneer at Law, furious with how smug the scrawny Captain looked. You flinch slightly as Law lays a heavy hand on your shoulder, staring down at you with a thinly veiled warning in his eyes as he politely demanded,

“I'd rather you go back to the ship-”

Kid immediately cuts Law off with a shout of,

“She's comin’ back home, you stupid brick for brains! You-”

Law smirks and summons a room with one hand, the other still tightly gripping your shoulder and you wince, turning in his grasp as best you can to place your hands on Law's chest, giving a slight push as you beg,

“Let them go! Stop it, stop it!”

Law looks back down to you, something unreadable in his gray eyes as you plead for his mercy. “Y/N-ya…”

“Law, please...”

Killer frowns behind his mask, wondering if he was just seeing things or if maybe there was something between you and the Heart Pirate Captain. The way Law looked at you was eerily similar to the way both him and Kid would look at you, like you were an immeasurable treasure, and it infuriated him.

“Y/N.”

You turn back to Kid, eyes watering as you nearly sobbed out, “Please, just go…”

Kid shakes his head with a deep frown on his lips, getting into a fighting position and activating his magnesis, metal hand out towards you as he barks out,

“You're coming home, babe. This little twig ain't gonna stop me from bringin’ you back where you belong.”

“Room!”

At that, Law's hand moves to wrap around your waist and the room activates, surrounding you, him and Bepo in a shroud of blue. “Law, stop! No, please!” Law only tugs you closer, ignoring your half-hearted fists thumping against his tattooed chest.

You feel a familiar tug in the middle of your chest, the feeling causing you to glance down and it's then you remember putting your old harness on this morning under your boiler suit. A wicked grin comes across your face and with every inch of strength you can muster, you shove Law away and shout out,

“Kid, now!”

In a flash, you fly backwards just as Law's hand reaches out to snatch you back, his fingertips just grazing the front of your suit. There was a hint of fear in his eyes as you flew back, though it disintegrates into fury as your back slams into Kid's chest.

A thick, flesh arm wraps around you and there's an overwhelming sense of joy that rushes through you as Kid gruffly promises you, “I got you, babe. I got you.”

Metal hand still outstretched and Killers blades spinning furiously in defense in case Law tried something, the Kid Pirates slowly moved back, making sure to be aware of their surroundings as they stepped away.

“Y/N-ya. I'm disappointed.”

You cling to Kid's arm, glaring back at Law as he speaks.

“I saved your life, and this is how you repay me?” There's a crazed look in Law's eyes as he steps forward, ignoring the warning snarl that Kid gives him as he holds you close. “I took you in, gave you a home, held your hand when you cried and this… this is how you repay all my kindness…?”

You're quick to bite back, “I didn't ASK for you to save me, or help me, or hold my hand, you did that because YOU wanted to! Don’t act like you didn't use me as a fucking pawn!”

Law's head tilts down slightly, the brim of his spotted hat covering his eyes in darkness as he gives an almost exaggerated sigh. He then summons a small room, a soft “Shambles,” leaving his lips and fear grips you as you take in the sight of a heart in one of those strange, blue-ish cubes sitting in his palm.

Tears filled your eyes as you turn in Kid's grasp, looking up at him and throwing your arms around his neck as you sob out, “I love you, I'm so sorry, I love you, I love you-”

Pure agony ripples through your entire body as Law squeezes the heart in his hand, a sadistic smirk on his lips as he calls out, “Did you really think I'd let a Kid Pirate waltz around my ship without some sort of contingency plan?” He squeezes it again and you sob out in pain, clinging to a now anxious Kid.

“Oi, oi! What the hell is that?!” Kid shouts, holding you tightly to him, his flesh hand cradling the back of your head. Killer sneers out, “Is that… her heart?!”

Law chuckles, giving the cube a small bounce in his hand before giving it another hefty squeeze. Your legs give out and Kid is stuck holding your limp body, the pain causing you to black out. Killer moves quick, blades spinning like a tornado but stops just short of slicing Law's head off as the spotted covered man holds a small blade to the heart box, the tip just sinking into the jello like blob.

One of Killer's blades rests not a millimeter from Law's neck, the masked man's eyes wide behind it. Law raises an eyebrow at him, sinking the blade into the blob just a bit more and Kid shouts, “Stop! Stop, you'll kill her, you fuckin’ psycho!”

Kid looks down at you in his arms, blood slowly seeping through your boiler suit where your heart would rest had it not been in Law's hand. Kid rests his metal hand over your chest and closes his eyes, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours as he murmurs, “I love ya, treasure.” He presses his lips to yours for what he hopes isn't the last time, laying your body down and taking a step back.

“... you'd rather kill her than let her come back with us.” Kid's words came out bland, broken but on point. Law's smirk widens, his head tilting slightly as he replies, “Obviously. She's a liability, one that I can't afford for you to gain back.”

Killer finally lowers his blade, taking a few steps back before he nearly hisses at Law, “You're a goddamn freak, you know that?”

Law simply chuckled darkly, giving a wide-eyed grin to Killer as he snaps back, “I am the Surgeon Of Death, aren't I?”

“S-stop it…”

All eyes fall back to you. You're struggling to sit up, tears blinding your vision as you breathlessly beg, “Just… stop it…”

Kid steps closer to you, only to stop as you cough up a sizable amount of blood, your suit and the ground splattered with your life essence. You try to catch your breath, looking up to Kid with a doe eyed sadness as you barely get out,

“I love you.”

Law's heart clenches in his chest, furious that you had the audacity to still spill your heart out to your ex lover, the one that took advantage of all your love. Was he not enough for you? Was his obsession with you not enough for you to want to stay with him? He gave you everything you asked for, and yet here you were, half dead, and you were still singing praises to goddamn Eustass Kid.

Fury overtook the second-guessed pain in Law's chest as Kid earnestly replies to you,

“I love ya, Y/N. I never stopped looking for you.”

Law sneered, taking a deep breath before his hand moved, the dagger sliding into the blob like a hot knife through butter. Your eyes rolled back as Kid shouted, watching as your body fell limp, your back hitting the stained gravel.

Killer gave a shout of disbelief and immediately started slicing at Law again, sword meeting scythe as they hit back and forth for a bit. Bepo went to fight as well when he suddenly felt his mini den den in his pocket rumble.

“Captain! We're ready to ship off!”

Law grins darkly and slices at Killer with a surgeons precision, right down the chest though not deep enough to kill the guy. Law had enough blood on his hands for the day.

“Room!”

Law watches as Kid sinks to his knees, pulling your slowly dying frame to his chest, his flesh hand wiping away hair from your face as he leans down to press a shaky kiss to your lips. Your own weak hand cups his scarred cheek, wiping away the unwilling tears from his eyes as you both murmur your love for each other.

“Captain?”

Law looks over to an anxious Bepo before finally, bitterly, biting out a furious,

“Shambles.”

Random newspapers fluttered over the ground where the two once stood. There was a cold, empty silence as Killer slowly stands, large hand covering the wound on his chest as he slightly limps over to his Captain.

Kid's form shakes slightly as he whispers down to you. A loving smile rests on your lips as you blink slowly up at him, your hand tracing over his face as if preserving it to memory. “I love ya so much, I'm so sorry,” Kid murmurs over and over, bitter and angry tears rushing down his cheeks.

“I love you, Red.”

Kid hisses out a sob, his teeth clenched together so tight he swore they would shatter in his mouth.

“I love you, and I forgive you.”

Kid's head falls to your bloodied chest, his breathing panicked as he holds you tighter. ‘This isn't happening, this is all a bad dream, just a bad dream,’ he thinks to himself, trying to ignore the warmth of your blood tinting his skin.

“It's okay my love,” your voice is a whisper as you grin into his hair. “You brought me back home.”

Killer weeps silently behind his mask as he kneels down, running a gloved hand over your hair soothingly. You flash him a loving smile as you murmur lastly,

“You… are my home.”

Your hand stops carding through Kid's hair and it's then that they know you're gone. “ I love you, I love you, come back, come back,” Kid begs into your boiler suit, his words muffled by the fabric. His hands cling to you, willing for your soul to return to your body as he sobs out.

Killer rests over Kid, holding his best friend like a life line as they both quietly weep over your body, hating that the world would continue to turn while you would sleep for the rest of their lives.

It's late that night, after the town had gone to sleep that the Kid Pirates gathered on the shore, a deep hole dug in the grass just off the sand. Every member stood, holding a candle and a metal flower, watching with teary eyes with some clinging to each other as your body was laid into the ground.

Kid was the last to place a flower down, brushing hair from your face one last time as he breathlessly begged, “Wake up.” He knew you would not wake, but he repeated himself regardless. “Just wake up.”

He almost jumps when a heavy hand lands on his shoulder, pulling him from his broken vision as he glances up to a silent Killer. After a moment, they both nod and stand, finally filling the grave.

Once it was covered, Killer gives Kid a slight shake, trying to keep the red head grounded as he admits softly,

“I think she'd be happy to be buried here. You picked a beautiful spot.”

Kid sniffles, a blank expression on his face as he sadly drawls out, “Nothin’ but the best for my girl.”

Killer gives him another shake before patting his shoulder and walking back towards the ship with the rest of the crew. Kid stays a little longer, his flesh hand gripping tightly around the necklace he'd made for you when he finally made you his. You may have died with it on, but he was going to live with it around his neck until the day he dies.

As Kid turns from your grave, he takes a few steps before glancing at it one last time. “... I'm gonna make you proud, babe. Just you watch, I'm gonna make you proud to be mine.” He brings the necklace to his lips for a chaste kiss before slinging it over his neck, the small rose resting over his chest and warming his skin.

He finally walks away, determination lit anew in his heart. The second he hits the deck, he promises the crew,

“Trafalgar Law will pay for this. I won't rest until his body is 12 feet under, which means we need to catch up to him.” Kid slides into his Captains chair and snarls towards the seas. “The second we find them, I'm going to crush his stupid fucking submarine like a cola can, with him and all his fucking crew inside.”

The Kid Pirates shout in agreement, raising their weapons as they scream out,

“For Y/N!”

Kid leans back and grunts tiredly, keeping his expression furious as he bites out,

“For Y/N.”

Kid can't find it in him to look back towards the shore as they pull away. His flesh hand grips around the necklace for a second and he swears he can still smell your perfume as his eyes slide shut.

Eustass Kid was not in the business of losing, but he knew truly, he'd lost not only the fight against Trafalgar, but a piece of himself as he laid you into the ground.

As Killer slides a beer into his hand, Kid chugs half of it back before slamming the bottle down onto the chairs arm. “Never again, Kil,” he starts, promising his best friend with a clink of the bottle against his. “I'm never gonna make a mistake like that again.”

Killer simply stays silent, his head turned towards the shore to watch as your grave slowly disappears from sight.

“Never again.”

#mandies mumbles ; fanfics #one piece #trafalgar law #Eustass Kid #Killer #kid pirates #part two #ok to rb #kid x reader #law x reader if u squint #losing the war part 2 #god this was so emotionally taxing 😭😭😭😭#kid baby im so sorry

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jinnie-ret · 2 months ago

Text

MY YOUTH | SKZ NINTH AU

stray kids x ninth member!reader (platonic)

<---------- back to my youth

<---------- back to main masterlist

chapter 6

genre: angst content warnings: bullying word count: 1.6k

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Lou began to feel like the trajectory of her life in this universe was heading down a path of one sick joke after the other. She had been holed up in her personal studio ever since the incident in which her childhood toy she was so attached to had been torn to bits. Lee Know had tried to comfort her but she was so overwhelmed that she had to leave the dorms. It left her with an odd feeling, one that didn’t quite sit right as she knew that she wouldn’t be feeling this way in her home world, but the longing that ached within her wasn’t an unfamiliar sensation. Her friends and family that had been left behind, seemingly nonexistent here. Seemingly, because Lou knew she couldn’t exactly go up to the boys and ask them about random people they would have never heard her bring up before. Or, on the other hand, she couldn’t ask about her ‘family members’ because she should know them more than anyone right?

The girl had become so absorbed into her thoughts that she had failed to notice the new object that had made itself home on her cluttered desk, an old floral notebook with a tattered leather binding at the spine. Until. the pages started flickering before her very eyes. The visual distraction was welcome, despite the unease and immense confusion that it caused. Dusty yellowed paper flickered until it came to a stop, landing on one page in particular. Ah, here it was, the next sick joke making itself known.

Marigolds.

These were the flowers she got yesterday. Lou gripped the book in her hands in disbelief, eyes scanning over the description of the plant, one that was presented in a time of grief. Surely not? Perhaps she had imagined the unnatural nature of the book. She could have subconsciously turned to that page. Yes, that must have been it. Lou was slowly convincing herself that there was no way that there could be a magic book in her grasp, even when she had been transported into a completely different universe. It didn’t matter for now, not when the three girls she wanted to see least had suddenly stormed into her studio, making her jump back into her chair and turn, hand on her heart.

Mina, Sora and Jiah, the younger girl of course hiding behind the older two who had dragged her along. In all honesty, Lou didn’t know why they were all still friends when it was clear there was a disconnect in beliefs - the beliefs being on tormenting her or not.

“Here, thought we’d be nice and give this back,” Mina plastered on a fake smile and proceeded to throw Lou’s notebook at her, hitting her against the head. Sora snorted from beside her at the disgruntled look on Lou’s face. The poor girl already had a heavy weight of thoughts and feelings to deal with, her neck hunched as she slumped over, pinching the bridge of her nose as she huffed.

“What? Not gonna say anything? I don't know why we even bother doing this if you’re not going to even react,” Sora kicked Lou’s foot to grab her attention.

“Pathetic,” Mina’s eyes scanned Lou, before nudging Jiah.

“Oh, y-yeah,” she looked up briefly before ducking her head down straight away.

“You bought me marigolds,” Lou blurted out, unable to get the thought out of her head, “why?”

“Marigolds?” Sora snorted, looking at her accomplices with incredulity, “you think I care about what type of flowers we sent you? Give me a break.”

“They were on discount,” Jiah added unhelpfully, yet it still led the other bullies further on their hateful discourse.

“Cheap, nasty stuff. All you deserve,” Mina grinned evilly, before practically snarling as she spat at Lou’s shoes.

“We did you a favour, really, tearing apart that ugly toy,” Sora sighed, inspecting her nails as if she was bored. Lou hoped that they would get bored one day. She was tired of their antics, the amount of times they dropped in to insult her before she performed Miroh for the first time was nearly more than she could count on her fingers.

“So you didn’t know what type of flowers they were?” Lou pushed away their comments, wanting to get to the bottom of this weird situation, her eyes boring into the gazes of the girls in front of her.

“Oh don’t tell me we’ve got a nerd here!” Sora rested her hand on Mina’s shoulder, leaning against her slightly as they both chuckled.

“We already told you we don’t care about that, idiot. Aren’t you more upset about your ickle lickle stuffed animal?” the latter pouted mockingly, bending over slightly and leaning forwards to squeeze Lou’s cheek, the pinch being a bit too hard.

“Get out!” Lou pushed her away, standing up with frustration, stray hairs flying in front of her eyes yet she still maintained her steely gaze.

“Woah! No need to get all angry,” Mina laughed loudly, enjoying the reaction she finally got.

“My members are still here, wouldn’t want them to see you acting like this, would you?” Lou instinctively bit back, not really knowing if her statement would affect the actions of the other girls but it fortunately did.

“We should go,” Jiah nervously looked behind her, tugging at the sleeves of Sora and Mina to get them to follow her. It was probably one of the only times they listened to the younger girl.

Lou was happy to breathe for a second with the disappearance of the trainees. She gathered her things together, her old notebook which she had finally gotten back, and the new mysterious flower journal that only seemed to bring her trouble and more stress. So the girls supposedly didn’t buy the marigolds on purpose, yet there was a connection to the real life events with how the book itself acted sentient for a short moment to show her what they truly meant. This was going to nag at her brain for a while, that was for sure.

By the time she shook it off, made the short nighttime walk back home to the dorms, Lou had checked her phone as she entered through the front door and saw the time on her watch. 03:25AM. How was it that time already? She didn’t even realise how the time had flown by.

“I’m sure she’ll be okay. I’m sure of it,” she heard Felix speak up from somewhere in the lounge. She took off her coat and shoes, only to see Bang Chan, Changbin, Hyunjin and Seungmin putting on their own jackets.

“Where are you going?” Lou quietly spoke up, her members so caught up in their own bubble they didn’t hear her get back.

“To look for you! Have you seen the time? Why didn’t you reply to our texts?” Bang Chan rubbed a stressed hand over his face before ruffling his own hair.

“Texts?” Lou had to pause for a moment, left hand patting against the pockets of her sweatpants and hoodies but she couldn’t find anything. Where was her phone? “Oh, I don’t know…”

“I tried calling as well. You just ran away. I was worried, we all were, Sunny,” Lee Know stood up from the sofa to get a better look at her, in case he could spot anything alarming.

“Is your phone off?” Seungmin looked at her knowingly, unzipping his windbreaker.

“Yeah, I was at the studio,” Lou shrugged. Maybe that’s why she had no idea where her phone was. She’d have to look into it, just something else to add to the mountains of issues she had to deal with.

“Told you she’d be there!” Han rolled his eyes, legs tucking into himself as he tiredly leant against the arm of the sofa. It was then she noticed how tired everyone looked, all because of her. Felix was sat upright, Jeongin next to him and although he was more reclined, their legs still touched for that extra bit of comfort. Changbin and Hyunjin were following in Seungmin’s footsteps, taking off their coats too, yet still standing attentively alongside Bang Chan.

“Now’s not the time,” Changbin tapped Han on the head through his hushed words.

“I’m sorry, I’m back now though. Can we just talk about this tomorrow?” Lou urged, not wanting a grilling from her members, her leader in particular, before she felt that fuzzy feeling she still hadn’t gotten used to. A flash blinded her vision before she was entered into a glimpse of a vision.

“Please, Hannie, can we just talk about it tomorrow? I don’t want to talk about it now,” Lou begged a younger version of her member.

“Flo, I’m worried about you. You need to tell me what’s happening, please. Something is wrong,” Han pleaded, his hand reaching out towards her before the vision was gone.

“Yah, Flo? Louisa?” Chan snapped his fingers in front of her face.

“You should get some sleep,” Hyunjin added when he saw Lou wasn’t off in her own world.

“Something is wrong,” Han whispered to Seungmin who nodded but rested his hand on his shoulder to show now wasn’t the time.

“We’ll talk about this tomorrow,” Lee Know almost sternly told Lou. She thought he had a right to feel that way, she had run out on him after all.

She quickly took herself off to her room, knowing where she was going this time. It wasn’t long before her head hit the pillow and she fell asleep, entering a dreamland - one she had not visited before.

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