#very glad ill have a room to cry in !!!!!

[bogkeep]

my luggage is delayed and i had a cute little breakdown about it which i attribute to having been on very long airplane travel from literally the opposite side of the earth,, the luggage service people were very kind about it and gave me a glass of water while gendering me correctly also. it's gonna get fixed. i have two hi-chews left i'm going to be okay

[lightseoul]

HOLD ME CLOSE (HOLD ME TIGHT) (3.8k)

pairing. k. bakugou x reader

synopsis. masaru has a stroke that nearly kills him. bakugou handles it well—until he doesn’t.

cw. pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (32), established relationship, mentions of illness, themes of grief, discussions of past trauma (bkg's)

a/n. i hope y'all cry because this made me cry lmao. writing really is easy if you take heavy inspiration from your personal experiences lol. this is written from bkg's pov, and serves as a mini character analysis as well ig?

bakugou remembers it clear as day.

it was only a few weeks after the two of you celebrated his 32nd birthday in a secluded resort out of town when he got the call.

he was in the middle of chastising his klutz of a sidekick’s ear off for forgetting to submit an important case report when his phone started ringing, and the very fact that it wasn’t your ringtone further soured his already worsening mood.

with a final reprimand laced with an hr-appropriate amount of expletives, he dismissed the rookie, leaving him alone in his pristine, corner office.

he recalls sighing in annoyance upon seeing the caller id, as well as his clipped tone when he greeted the old hag with a curt, “what.”

that annoyance was immediately replaced with alarm, however, when his usually bright mother spoke into the microphone, her typically level voice shaking with unmistakable fear.

“it’s your father, katsuki…” she started, and he instantly braced himself for the impact.

mitsuki takes a shaky inhale. “…he’s having a stroke. we’re on the way to the hospital. please, come here.”

he didn’t need to be told twice.

he remembers being on autopilot—the entire way to the suburban peripheries of musutafu where his parents decided to move after he got his own place at the age of 22. he’s not entirely sure—the journey over now a hazy blur—but he might’ve sent you the link to his location, because you magically arrived at the local hospital around fifteen minutes after him.

the moment he saw you burst into the entrance of the emergency room, a huge, tidal wave of relief immediately washed over him, he thought he could’ve collapsed. the second you lock eyes, he witnessed a whirlwind of emotions dance across your beautiful features, before you ran over to where he stood near the vending machine, unceremoniously crashing into his arms.

at that point, he had no idea what made you drop everything—including the precious work that you do—and just follow him based on an ambiguous gps locator he sent you without context, but he was glad you did.

because it was only as you held him so close to you all the while soothing his back and chanting soft ‘it’s okay’s’ in his ear did it hit him.

the fact that he’s fucking terrified.

it must’ve been at least three hours of stewing in tense silence in the emergency room’s waiting area before the two of you finally saw mitsuki.

he remembers the way his heart ached when he first laid eyes on his mother, someone who’s typically radiant and spirited and happy, now looking too frail and painfully vulnerable.

words weren’t exchanged as the three of you walked towards each other, and he promptly engulfed his mother into a tight hug before he could talk himself out of it.

“how is he?” he whispered into the side of her head, choosing to ask then, in the middle of a hug, because he didn’t know if he could stand the look on her face when she answered.

“he’s alive,” she managed to get out, but she said it so tentatively that he knew it was too soon to feel any sort of relief.

“but…?” he recalls asking with bated breath.

“it was a hemorrhagic stroke. it’s… it’s bad, katsuki.”

it wasn’t until a few more hours later, when the two of you were finally granted permission to enter masaru’s hospital room together with mitsuki, did he realize what bad meant.

some parts of this story are blurry now, but the way his stomach dropped at the sight of his father remains to be unforgettable.

the sight of him paralyzed, head to toe.

masaru remained confined in the hospital for a few weeks more after that. the three of you took turns—one would go home to clean up and catch some sleep while the remaining two kept watch and assisted the man.

you almost got booted out of there on the second day, with the nurse saying only immediate family was allowed due to overcrowding in the hospital, but bakugou was quick to step in and say you were practically married.

when the nurse politely pressed for more details while looking pointedly at your ring finger and the lack of a wedding band, he lied and said you forgot to wear it in your rush to get there.

she didn’t seem too convinced, but she thankfully let it go, probably because it was #2 pro-hero dynamight who said so, eventually exiting the room after checking masaru’s vitals.

he remembers you heaving a sigh of relief once the three of you were left alone, tossing him a small smile that sent a familiar shot of longing straight to his veins.

one day, he recalls thinking to himself, you will be married.

just—not now.

the first day home was as much of a nightmare as he expected it to be.

growing up, and until that moment, he never really found himself wanting siblings.

sure, it got pretty lonely during his childhood, but he almost always had kids following him around what with how flashy his quirk is, and he had izuku, which he can now admit was (and still is) his best friend.

plus, you always said you loved how he’d roughhouse you, which you chalked up to him being an only child and not having had the opportunity to do that with anyone else.

but, as the three of you struggled to lift masaru out of the car and into his newly minted wheelchair, he remembers wishing for a brother or a sister who could lend a helping hand and make sure all of masaru’s numb body parts were carefully looked out for.

it’s fucking hilarious, how he didn’t just lift his father all by himself with his pro-hero muscles, but the fear of accidentally hurting him even more turned out to be more paralyzing than he anticipated.

not that he would ever admit that to anyone.

not even you.

but as he watched you and his mother fluttering around, tending to masaru’s needs not even a minute you get in the house, it struck him that maybe he should.

you might not be his sibling (thank god, no), but you will most likely become his parents’ daughter if things go his way.

and, whether he liked it or not, he’s got to do something about the growing ache in his chest that’s only growing wider by the second.

the next few weeks he spent busying himself with the stuff that came with looking after a stroke patient.

mitsuki, who’s done nothing but throw herself into caring for her husband, insisted on helping him find the people they needed, but bakugou didn’t even let her get a word in.

when he tucked himself into bed right next to you later that night in his new bedroom (you moved in with him to his parents’ despite his protests), he recalls ranting about how the old hag was getting on his nerves with her inability to just let him handle shit.

“have i ever been incompetent?” he huffed, turning on his side so he could lie facing you. “it’s like she doesn’t even trust me.”

“i think the two of you just want the same for the other, kats,” came your steady yet gentle voice, not missing a beat and totally unfazed by his petulant behavior.

“…waddya mean?”

you reached out to caress his cheek, and he remembers how soft your fingers felt and how his eyes momentarily fluttered close at the warmth.

at the sight, you flashed him a sad smile before pressing on.

“you’re both hurting, but the two of you would rather carry the weight by yourselves instead of burdening the other. it’s how you and mitsuki show you care.”

he didn’t say anything after that.

at least, for a while.

finally, he spoke up. “…i just don’t like to be bossed around, is all.”

to that, you only tossed him a knowing look. “yup, just that. definitely. never mind your immense sense of responsibility and the stubborn yet admirable way you carry everybody’s bur—”

“yeah, yeah,” he cut you off before you could ramble any further. “i get it.”

seemingly satisfied, you grinned up at him before pulling him close, cradling his head by your chest.

with the new position, he could feel your familiar, rhythmic heartbeat.

your heartbeat that he liked to listen to for reassurance—telltale evidence that you’re alive and right next to him, and that no villain has wrestled you out of his firm grip.

and as he lay there snuggled into you and listening to the consistent pulse, he found his frantic, loud thoughts slowly but steadily being lulled to a hum.

thoughts that he knew you’d kick to the moon if you found out he’s been thinking them.

thoughts like maybe he’s just selfishly gatekeeping all the tasks so he could distract himself from the pain that’s threatening to swallow him whole.

thoughts like maybe he deserved this for all the wrong he’s done growing up.

thoughts like maybe his mother would be in far less pain if it were him instead of his saint of a father who had to go through this.

he fell into a fitted sleep that night.

after a few more weeks of searching for and screening applicants, and with your and mitsuki’s approval, he finally settled on a stay-in caregiver and physical therapist.

it took quite a while for the two to learn the ropes and master how he wanted things to be done around here, but they eventually got there, and when they did, they cleared a lot of stuff that has been on everybody’s plates ever since masaru had the stroke.

with that, mitsuki insisted the two of you go home to your shared condominium and get back into working full-time again, but neither of you relented. he tried to get you to return, not wanting to hold you back from the important things that you do, but you were quick to dismiss him.

he didn’t tell you then and there, but he secretly wished you would.

he’d never confess this to anybody, but he’d definitely crumble without you around.

he remembers one specific thursday, when you first started getting masaru into exercising his left, albeit non-dominant hand, by drawing.

it was silly, but he recalls not even being able to look his father in the eye as the two of you sat across from him who was plastered in his wheelchair, a small coffee table between you, on which sat a piece of paper, a pencil, a box of crayons, and an all might plushie you swiftly grabbed from his bedroom.

and as he sat there avoiding his father’s gaze, he watched you as you talked animatedly to the man, explaining the deceivingly simple activity: he just had to try and draw the plushie, after which, if he still had the energy, he could color in using the crayons you dug out from bakugou’s drawers.

but masaru wasn’t having it.

the man only stared at you in disinterest as you tried your best to engage him. despite himself, bakugou felt indignation creep up his spine.

he knew. fuck, he really did. after he made sure you’ve fallen asleep, he had spent nights researching his father’s condition, poring over mountains and mountains of information all in the name of being able to better understand and help him.

so he knew—he knew that strokes, especially severe ones, can cause noticeable changes in one’s personality, at least in the short term. it can turn someone sensitive and in tune with others’ emotions into someone who’s apathetic and seemingly self-absorbed.

still, that knowledge doesn’t stop him from jumping on his feet when masaru, his kind, sweet father, angrily wiped off the table with his left arm, sending the materials you worked hard to gather scattered all over the floor.

and, before he could stop himself: “hey!”

you were onto him in an instant, a soothing albeit restraining hold on his shoulder. “katsuki, it’s okay.”

he was about to open his mouth to spit venom when he felt you tighten your grip. he didn’t have to glance at you to know you were looking at him the way you always did when you were begging him to stay quiet.

and because he loved (loves) you, he did.

and as he wordlessly picked up the papers and pens in silence, he couldn’t help but mourn over his father, and the patience and calmness that characterized his being.

the very patience and calmness that he always wished he had, instead of his temper and aggressiveness, because that’s what you, of all people, deserved.

and then the all-too-familiar guilt hit him again.

because why was he acting like his father died, when he was still very much alive?

simple, bakugou thought to himself.

it’s because it feels like he has.

his relationship with masaru didn’t get better after that.

he’d been trying, he really had been. if not for you, who’d been tending to his father like he was your very own, then for his mother, whose fatigue and sadness have been chipping away at her by the minute.

he was washing the dishes in the kitchen after you’ve had dinner—all the while his parents watched tv in the living room—when you walked in, a couple more dirty plates in tow.

he wouldn’t have noticed he was glaring down at the brick of butter on the shelf if you didn’t point it out.

“a few more seconds and that’s gonna melt,” you quipped.

he looked back at you, gears in his head turning for a beat, before he chuckled half-heartedly and turned back to the sink.

behind him, he recalls hearing a click, which he now identifies as you putting down the plates on the kitchen island, before he felt your arms wrap around his middle, encasing him in a hug.

your voice was smooth when you drawled out, “what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, baby?”

still, and despite all the shit that’s been going on in his life, he still found himself shuddering at the pet name.

“nothing.”

“really?” came your immediate response. “because i was getting kinda jealous with how hard you were staring at that butter.”

at that, bakugou couldn’t help but snort. you followed suit, that delightful laugh echoing across the small room.

“stupid,” he simply retorted, although both of you knew there was no bite to it.

you didn’t press him for more after that, choosing to just hold yourself against his back in comfortable silence—which he now knows he’s grateful for.

because at that time, he couldn’t have told you he was feeling nothing but resentment for his pitiful father.

his pitiful father who loved to put butter in virtually every dish he whipped up.

his pitiful father who probably wouldn’t be pitiful if he just led an active lifestyle, monitored his health, and made better choices so that his poor mother wouldn’t have to go through all this.

his train of thought was interrupted, however, when a pang of that same old guilt hit his chest, and then he was once again flooded with scalding shame.

because what else should he be feeling for his father aside from empathy, as someone who has had far too many brushes with death itself?

“…katsuki?”

he recalls jolting ever so minutely, before turning his head to look at you, who, by then, was already standing behind him, apparently already having released him from the hug.

“huh?”

“i was just asking you,” you continued as if he didn’t just zone out. “our friends want to come by and visit, if you’re okay with it. is that alright with you?”

the last thing he needed was for his nerd-ass friends to visit and witness his family’s dirty laundry, which would inevitably be aired out for them to see given the circumstances. his entire life, he always, always, kept those from prying eyes, even if they were his closest buddies’.

but, at the mention of his friends, he found his heart clenching in yearning despite himself.

and so, before he could talk himself out of it, he nodded in approval.

“…and so that’s how i saved the little girl who was convinced i was the bad guy!”

he remembers everyone in the room erupting in laughter at kirishima’s story, even masaru, who’s been steadily gaining control of the left side of his body back.

his right has seen little to no improvement, but you and mitsuki have been making it a point to celebrate every win, no matter how small.

at kirishima’s gag, bakugou himself couldn’t help the somewhat imperceptible smirk that encroached on his face, which izuku, unfortunately, caught sight of. the #1 pro-hero beamed at him, and it took bakugou every ounce of self-control not to roll his eyes at the nerd.

“what about you, midoriya-kun?” asked mitsuki, who’s seated on a stool right beside her husband, who’s nestled comfortably in the reclining chair you got him about a month ago.

at the call out, the green-haired man shifted his attention to the lady, before sheepishly retorting with: “oh, i just try to be funny.”

that granted him his round of laughter, and this time bakugou finally allowed himself to give into the visceral urge to roll his eyes.

he must’ve been being so obvious with his expressions, because it’s you who managed to catch him again, shooting him a chastising but nevertheless playful look.

before he could wink at you or do anything in response, though, he recalls mitsuki standing up quite abruptly, startling the five of you.

you shot her a question before anyone else could. “what is it, mitsuki-san?”

“i didn’t notice! we’ve run out of tea and snacks. sorry—” she leaned down to get the trays, “—let me get some mo—”

“i’ll do it!” volunteered the ever-good-natured izuku, who moved so fast the plates were on him before the rest could blink.

“i’ll help the nerd,” bakugou added, standing up before taking some of the cups from his rival lest the latter drops them.

at the uncharacteristically generous offer, izuku once again beamed at him, which bakugou immediately dismissed with a wave of a hand.

the short trek to the kitchen was quiet amidst the background noise, which has been brought up a notch thanks to kirishima’s vivid storytelling.

without a word, bakugou gestured where to get a refill on the snacks while he busied himself with brewing more tea.

the silence that engulfed them was comfortable—familiar—that was, until, izuku broke it.

“thanks again, kacchan.”

bakugou felt his eye twitch at the nickname. “for what?”

izuku turned on his feet to regard his best friend, a grateful smile gracing his boyish features. “for letting me and ei visit. i just wanted you to know i appreciate it. i’m sure it’s not easy having guests around while, you know…”

he wasn’t about to tell the nerd he and kirishima were the only ones he felt comfortable enough to visit at the moment, so he merely nodded.

(un)fortunately, the greenhead took it as a sign to continue.

“she’s been amazing, huh?”

bakugou met the man’s soft gaze, which was directed toward you.

“yeah,” came his sure reply. he remembers not even knowing where to start, so he just simply left it at that.

a pregnant pause.

“you’ve been doing great, too, kacchan.”

that caught him off guard.

he must’ve looked stunned, because izuku shrugged quite timidly, before: “we all see how hard you’re working.”

the #1 pro-hero hesitated for a moment, as if debating whether or not to say the next thing, ultimately deciding for it.

“…but don’t forget to take care of yourself, too, alright?”

and just as fast as he scooped the trays back in the living room, izuku patted him on the shoulder before taking the cups from him and waltzing rather clumsily out of the kitchen.

later that night, bakugou found himself unable to fall asleep.

it’s been ages since you both got into bed, and you were now on your side with your back turned against him, probably already fast asleep.

he recalls just staring up at the off-white ceiling, playing back in his head the earlier conversation he had with izuku again and again and again.

“you’ve been doing great, too, kacchan,” was what the nerd said.

if he only knew.

if he only knew the terrible thoughts that had been plaguing his mind since shit went down.

there’s a reason why he hasn’t said a single word about the things he’d been thinking since day one.

there’s a reason why he’s kept all of this shit to himself even though they were fucking heavy to carry all on his own.

it was because he was scared of them, and even more scared of what people would make of him when he finally verbalized them into existence.

what you would make of him.

he’s spent most of his life running away from who he used to be, that the mere thought that he might have just always been that guy this entire time is like a fucking 100% detroit smash to the gut.

he didn’t even notice he was crying until he felt a single tear go down the side of his face.

he quickly reached up to wipe it away.

to his horror, he felt you shift beside him, and he found himself frozen in fear as he waited for you to settle into another position in your sleep.

but that didn’t come.

instead, he remembers so, so clearly how you turned to face him—absolutely, evidently wide awake—with such a worried expression on your gorgeous face, and how he just completely lost it at the sight of you.

he remembers how you scooped him into your arms as ugly sobs finally wracked his body, how you led his arms to wrap around your waist to help anchor him as he cried into your chest.

he remembers the soothing circles you rubbed on his back as you started to cry with him, your sniffles the only thing he heard aside from his own weeping.

he remembers the way your voice cracked when you started whispering ‘i’m here’s’ in his ear. and, he doesn’t know if it’s because that line carries a massive fucking weight for him, or that it’s you—the love of his life—who’s saying them, but the words wash over the entirety of his exhausted body like a violent storm, leaving him shivering in its wake.

he remembers deciding then and there, that he was going to tell you everything.

maybe tomorrow, but not now.

for now, and in the safety of your arms, he finds himself finally allowing the grief—the grief that he’s unknowingly been trying to tamp down—to come forward and make itself known.

tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @sugurusmoon

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 have a nice day!

[anjelicawrites]

Paring: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Synopsis: your marriage to Aemond would be a win, if it wasn’t for his dreadful, drafty quarters, you’re supposed to share with him. When you decide to live in another set of chambers, because he seems to ignore how unhappy you are, you two are bound to butt heads.

Warnings: angst with a happy ending, crying, fighting, brief description of illness, a bit of manhandling, quick talk of cutting off Otto’s tongue, Aegon tries to be a good older brother but fails miserably.

A/N: reader is AFAB, they/them pronouns used when needed. They’re called ‘wife’ and the only descriptor is that they have to crane their head to look at Aemond’s face

A/N 1: thank you @peachysunrize for screaming with me about it idea!

You arrange the brocade pillow on the old settee in front of the roaring fireplace: isn’t it lovely to have an interesting book to start, a warm blanket and a hearth to fight the first chilly nights in King’s Landing? Instead of a dreadful, drafty room? You had to choose, and picked the first option; unfortunately your husband isn’t on your same page.

Speaking of the Stranger, a rapid hail of knocks, hard and booming, falls on the sturdy wood of the locked doors.

“You are expected for dinner, wife!”

Aemond’s cold, angry tone carries through the door and you elect to ignore it.

“I’m not hungry, husband.”

You try to keep your tone light, pretending not to hear how cross he is with you.

You don’t know that outside, in the corridor, your husband is in the company of his brother, the king, his sister, the queen and the crown prince Daeron, who has come over from Oldtown for the wedding. Your sovereigns have accompanied their sibling in the hope to mediate this rift, so early in the marriage.

“If you don’t come out immediately, I will break down this door!"

“You can do as you wish, husband.”

“Perhaps you should try to be more courteous? No one wants to be addressed with such a tone.”

If Aemond didn’t love Helaena the way he does, he would have snarled at her, queen or not, instead he takes a big breathe, trying to douse the flames of rage burning in his chest.

All Targaryen siblings stare at Aegon with surprised eyes: where does this wisdom comes from?

“My wife is being extremely difficult.” He growls, low enough that you can’t hear him.

“You can win more battles with your wits than with your fists.”

Truth to be told, Aegon is trying not to laugh and be an arse towards Aemond; now that he’s king he genuinely wants to do better, but to witness Aemond lose his control because you have a spine of Valyrian steel, it’s not something he ever expected from you.

“Will you join us for dinner?”

Aemond is trying to keep his tone on a lighter note, gentler.

His fist almost connects with the door when you answer with a curt ‘No, thank you’, and all his siblings whisper to him to try and keep his composure.

“It would make all of us, me above all, very glad if you joined us. Please.”

His patience is hanging by a thread, one wrong word from you and he might explode.

“I am not hungry, I have already told you.”

Aemond doesn’t know if it’s your disrespect of his authority as your husband, or how disinterested you sound that throw fuel to the flames of his rage, not that he cares now that he can only see red.

“Then starve, wife! See if I care!”

With that he stomps away, his heavy footsteps echoing in the stone corridors.

Helaena stares at Aegon. If you asked Daeron, he’d tell you she looks like someone who is pondering very hard why she’s married to an idiot.

“How many days ago was the wedding ceremony?” Aegon murmurs.

“A month.” It’s Daeron’s laconic answer.

“Any insides from the Gods?”

From behind the locked doors, you’re burning with your own brand of anger: how dares Aemond address you in such a tone? You’re not a servant, you’re his wife! He promised to care for you, keep you safe and sound, only to forget his promise when the first issue appears on the horizon! Also: you don’t consider your request outlandish, if only he had been open to an adult discussion!

“They will need time, and patience, to find a common ground.” She answers.

“This marriage is doomed to a sad end, then.” The king says, heading to the huge dining room: he needs wine, and he needs it now!

When the marriage between you and Aemond was being arranged, you were happy and dismissed your sisters’ doubts about the union, mostly because they all were appalled by his looks, by his scar, the very characteristic you found captivating about your future husband.

You were sold on the marriage when you finally met him in person: tall and imposing, averse to stupid talks and apt with a sword, Aemond had piqued your interest to the point you forgot he had been marred as a child: you knew he was your match.

Despite having the blood of the dragon flowing through his veins, he had always been respectful of you, during the long courtship, focused on knowing you, once you arrived in King’s Landing, without being improper, which made you believe there could be some true interest, from him, that he wasn’t simply honoring his side of this political deal.

Even during the wedding, when your hands were shaking in his, he had stolen moments to murmur in your ear that he couldn’t stop the whole ordeal, but he could make sure the two of you would be present for the least amount of time needed; he had stopped the whole wedding cortège from entering his chamber, now your shared marital room, to assist to your first coupling. With a firm voice he had put his foot down, until every single person had left, and had calmed your fears, once you were both under the soft cotton of the bedding.

What went so wrong that such a good union, was already on shaky grounds after a month?

His bedroom.

The wedding night you didn’t had the chance to truly take in the room, you were running on too much adrenaline and too little food to truly notice anything but how sparse, and masculine, the furniture was.

The morning after you had woken up chilled, despite the blankets covering your half naked form, to a room without a hearth to fight the cold drafts you could feel attacking you from all sides. That same morning you had noticed that the arched windows opening on the side of the room had no glass panes to protect the room from the wind, or rain: why a person of the standing of Aemond could accept to sleep in such a dreadful place?

“What’s so wrong about it?”

He had asked you two nights later, as he was preparing to join you to bed.

He was still wearing his leather trousers and the linen undershirt; he had looked at you surprised, as he was carefully folding his jerkin, ready to lay it on a chair.

Inwardly, the way he shrugged off your concerns felt worse than him raising his voice at you, it made you feel as if you were lying about the very goosebumps adorning your skin, or how cold your hands felt, even through you were bundled in a thick dressing gown.

“It’s cold, and drafty, husband.”

“I don’t feel it.”

As a dutiful wife, you had tried to ignore the chill constantly present in your bones, even when you were in the company of your new family; you could be having tea with the dowager queen, or be chatting with the queen in her sunny room, surrounded by the tiny cages housing her small animals, and you’d still feel like you were freezing.

Your toppling point came a week after your wedding day, when you woke up with a sore throat, a runny nose and a fever. Your husband had been by your side, his menacing presence causing the Maesters to scurry about in fear for their lives, yet, when you told him that it was the drafty room you two were sharing that caused you this illness, he had stared into your eyes, and told you that you were in the wrong, that your marital chamber was perfect.

As soon as you felt like you could walk without the whole room spinning around you, you ordered your servants to move all your belongings, most of them still in your trunks, in a bigger room in the same wing, one left unused for years, but adorned with thick panes of glasses at the windows and a hearth so huge you could sit in it and don’t be scorched by the flames.

Late in the afternoon, when you had started organizing your belongings, your husband had entered your new room, his presence so hulking that your maids had squirreled and hid in the furthest corner they could find, with their eyes lowered, trembling like leaves in winter.

“What is the meaning of all of this, wife?”

For the first time, you could feel the displeasure in your husband’s voice, kicking years and years of teaching into overdrive: your first instinct was to find a way to please him, make him happy, the way you were told while growing up, then you could feel a sneeze climb its way up in your nose, shutting down the voice of your mother, already complaining in your head.

“I told you, husband, that I felt cold in our room, I have even fallen ill because of it. I asked you to change it to another and you denied my request. This is the only solution, since you love it, and I don’t.”

You’re desperately trying not to start a fight by keeping your tone light, but firm: you know your husband to be a smart man, one you had discussed issues upon issues during your betrothal, why this silly problem should be any different?

You can see the way his expression hardened and his stance resembled the one you saw him adopt in the courtyard, with his feet planted on the ground to carry his weight and his shoulders slightly hunched.

You had walked closer to him, planting yourself right in front of his bigger frame, head craned to look into his eye.

“You will order your maids to bring all your belongings back to our chambers. I will not hear another word about it.”

“No, I will not go back to that dreadful room.”

Silence fell, broken by his pensive hum.

“And I will not sleep without my wife by my side.”

“You are welcome to join me here, where it’s warmer.”

“Or you could be reasonable and put a stop to this nonsense.”

“The only unreasonable one is you, husband.”

He left without another word, and you expelled a breathe you didn’t know you were holding.

“Then it seems we are at an impasse.” He said, coldly.

“That we are.” You answered, crossing your arms in front of you.

You thought sleeping without you by his side would mellow him, would let him see your reasons, instead he was colder than ever, during a silent, and tense breakfast you shared with the dowager queen, who tried, fruitlessly to start a conversation with either of you two, to lighten the gloomy mood, without success.

“My brother is an idiot.”

The king had told you that same night, minutes before dinner.

“Good, because you are going to need it to win this battle.” His hand had landed swiftly on your shoulder, in a reassuring pat. “Your king is with you in this tussle.”

“Pardon, Your Grace?”

“Aemond. He’s as smart as he can be dense and stubborn.” Aegon had continued, offering you a goblet of wine.

“I can be as stubborn as he is, Your Grace.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

You had curtseyed briefly, not feeling the hard stare of your husband on your back.

You didn’t know it, later than night Aemond had cornered Aegon, needing to know his intentions towards you, barely curbing the desire to slam his brother against the wall for having touched you, not knowing that Aegon had no ill, or sexual, intent towards you, he was trying to do better, to be better.

Aegon’s casual tone had stroked Aemond’s rage.

“Which side are you on, Your Grace?” He had hissed the question from behind clenched teeth.

“The one that’s funnier, brother, and your wife is hilarious, I can assure you.”

“I will not accept disrespect being done towards my wife.” He said, his voice like a cold draft.

Aegon knew why Aemond didn’t trust him, he had never given him a reason to, yet he was still hurt by his brother’s low opinion of him.

“I have no ill intention towards your wife. I had only showed them my support, because you’re being daft and unreasonable, and you know that.”

That had hurt Aemond’s pride, that his deadbeat older brother felt that he had the grounds to criticize him, when it had always been the other way around, all because of you.

The morning after you had woken up feeling warmed and well rested.

One of your servants had already lighted up the fire and you knew a scolding hot bath was waiting for you in the adjoining bathroom. You felt bad at not having Aemond by your side, his abnormally hot body curled around yours, his lips kissing your nape before making love to you at the brink of dawn: it was unnatural to not sleep with you husband, yet, he had left you with no other option but take this direct, if somewhat, unusual approach.

You had hoped that another night spent apart would have mellowed Aemond or, at least, helped him look at your stance with a kinder heart. You were wrong.

You hadn’t seen him for the whole day, until the afternoon, when he came to his mother’s room, where you were knitting, sitting on a huge armchair right where the sun was shining. Both Alicent and Helaena were with you, engrossed in their own works, while the twins played with their maids.

Alicent tried to defuse the low current of tension in the air, even the twins were silent, as if waiting to see what would happen.

“Wife.” Came, low and controlled.

“Husband.” You glanced at him, your heart sinking when you saw his displeased expression.

“Is there something you need, Aemond?”

You had stopped knitting to stare hard at him.

“I was simply looking for my wife, mother.”

“You know where to find me, husband.”

He had hummed, staring at you with his lips pursed in a thin, white line of displeasure.

“I see you are still being foolish.”

“The only foolish person I see in this room is you, husband.”

That had been a hard blow, you could see it in the way he stiffly turned around to leave, without a word; you were embarrassed by his conduct, and yours, enraged that a silly issue like the one you two were badly navigating, would exacerbate in two days, because your arse of a husband wouldn’t do you the simple favor of listening to you.

“You are disobeying your vows of obedience, wife.”

“And you’re doing the same, with yours of protection.”

You had excused yourself and curtseyed before either of the women could stop you.

As soon as you had reached your room, you had curled on the bed to cry your anger and frustration, wondering how you were supposed to share the rest of your life with Aemond.

Deserting the family meals hadn’t been a conscious decision: you didn’t feel like eating, looking at your husband’s face or pretend in front of everyone else that night, or the morning after, you simply carried on staying in your room, or leaving your sanctuary to go walk in the gardens, anger and sadness churning in your belly with every day your husband seemingly ignored your absence. Granted, you could have gone to him, tried to discuss the matter civilly, but why should you? He had been the deaf oaf, he should be the one to come and talk to you!

You didn’t know the way he struggled with his own anger, and loneliness how, for the first time since his late father assigned him this room, he felt as if cold was seeping in his bones, now that you didn’t sleep in his arms.

Why were you so impossible? So stubborn and childish? You were supposed to obey him, not put your feet down so strongly that his brother had started asking him, with unconfined glee, when you would grace the family with your presence, why his beloved good sister wouldn’t eat supper with them all. Aemond had to put his own grandsire into his place, when the old man had told him that your union was ill matched, that Aemond had to send you back to your family: Otto would never know how close Aemond had been to cut his tongue for his indiscretion, stopping only because the old man was family.

You were supposed to built a shared nest for you and him, not cut him off, because he didn’t want to adhere to your childish whims!

“You’re not going to win this one.” Aegon had told him one afternoon.

The king was hiding from the dreadful pile of paperwork he was supposed to sign, deciding to go where no one would search for him: the library.

“You should mind your work, Your Grace.” Aemond had hissed. “The whole realm needs your attention, not my wife.”

Aegon had rolled his eyes and sat next to his brother.

“Your wife is my subject, their well being is my concern.”

Aegon knew he shouldn’t have smirked, he couldn’t help himself though: it had been such a surprise to see how much Aemond was moping, because his brother had always been very reserved with his life, rarely had he openly expressed his emotions; it took this disagreement to show Aegon that his brother couldn't, indeed, have the perfect control over himself.

“I know what’s better for my family.”

The way Aemond had closed the book, his hand a white knot of anger around the old leather told Aegon it was time for him to find another hiding place.

“You don’t. Since you’re here, and your wife is not.”

Days had passed, a wall of unsaid words and anger slowly grew tall and impossible to climb: what were you supposed to do? And why should you make the first step towards reconciliation?

You hear Aemond’s footsteps stomp away from your door, followed by all of his siblings and your stomach closes tighter than it did before: you weren’t lying when you told Aemond you weren’t hungry.

It takes your upset stomach hours before the painful knot that forces you to curl into yourself on the bed, loosens enough for you to feel some semblance of hunger, strong enough to convince you to walk down to the kitchen, in search of some food.

You walk on light feet, making sure the guards patrolling the corridors don’t see you, loathing the thought of having to explain yourself to the men.

The kitchen area is enormous, and quiet, dying candles and the log slowly consuming itself in the hearth, illuminate the room and the furniture; thanks to the chatter of your maids, you know where everything is, the left-over, the plates and cutlery.

Mindful of the large sleeves of your dressing gown, you choose the food you think your stomach will manage: you have been living off tea and fruits, even now that you’re hungry, you fear your stomach will betray you.

Carefully you grab the tray and head back to your room, where you hope to curl next to the fire to eat, and to go to bed with a lighter heart.

You’re so focused on not letting anything fall, wondering how the servants manage to carry out those tasks, always in a hurry, that you don’t realize you’re not the only one who can’t sleep.

Aemond hasn’t even tried to fall asleep tonight, knowing all too well that he will spend most of the night staring at the ceiling, or tossing and turning, falling into an uneasy slumber when the first rays of light grace the sky.

He had always been a light sleeper, partly due to the constant pain in his face, partly because he knows that danger can come from any direction, but he had rarely issues with falling asleep, more so when he is as tired as he feels; he is not an idiot, he knows that his body needs yours next to him to find peace again.

It’s not only the sexual urge to be rooted inside of you, to listen to your sighs and moans of pleasure, but also waking up with your fresh smell in his nostrils, your silky skin under his roughened palms: you have changed the habits he had formed in a lifetime in a couple of weeks, and now he doesn’t know, doesn’t want to go back to the way life was before.

As your husband he is aware that he has the right to request your presence, that no one would bat an eye if he were to storm into your chambers to drag you back where you belong, or simply satisfy his lust to the send you back to your chambers. There’s a problem, though: he doesn’t want to. He loathes the idea of forcing you to sleep with him, he wants you willing, responsive to his touch, the way you had been before this rift.

If he simply wanted to empty his stones, he would have gone in any brothel to find that kind of satisfaction, what his restless mind, and body, are seeking is your presence, soothing and calming, like a balm for his nerves.

He decides to sneak down in the kitchen, instead of sending his personal servants, because he needs to move, to burn off some of this energy that he can’t seem to shake off, even after punishing training: he might as well find some warm water he can use to make himself tea, using the leaves the Maesters have advised him to use whenever the left side of his face starts to hurt more than usual.

Like you, he walks in the shadows, light on his feet, and he’s surprised to see movement in the kitchen. He’s dumbfounded when he sees you, clad in a forest green dressing gown, focused on organizing the food on the plates; he thinks that you’re pretty in the dying light of the fire, that the earthy tones you use for your clothing make you appear even more warm and comely, stroking the flames of his need, and longing, for you.

He retreats in the shadows when you walk through the open door; you’re so focused on the task you’re carrying out, that you don’t feel his presence and keep walking to your room.

With feet that are even more light than before, Aemond follows you, drinking down your lovely form the way a castaway would a jug of fresh water: he’s missed seeing you walking around the corridors and the gardens, or in the courtyard when he trains.

It feels like years ago that you were there, clad in a yellow dress that reminded him of the autumn foliage, clapping your hands and smiling at him: why you don’t want to go back to that? Why won’t you just see that he, Aemond, is right? That there’s no issue but your stubborn personality?

He waits until you’re inside your chambers, your back to the still open door, to enter and close it without a noise.

He hadn’t been in your chambers since the day you had moved your belongings here. His eye roams the room, enjoying the elegant way you have adorned it, the furniture you have chosen, and how the pillows and blankets give a homely look to the old place.

He notices that your personal writing desk, the one your father sent you from your childhood room, stands near the huge hearth, opposite to the padded settee and the short tea table, where you have placed the tray.

He thinks that you look truly happy without him and bile rises in his throat.

“I thought you weren’t hungry, wife.”

A petty party of himself rejoices when you jump in surprise and turn around with a hand closing the neck of your dressing gown.

“And I was led to believe you didn’t care if I starved myself to death, husband.”

Your heart is hammering in your chest, you haven’t been this close, and alone, with Aemond in days; you’re nervous and angry at yourself for the longing you feel in your heart.

Silence falls between you two, broken only by the creaking of the fire.

“May help you with something, husband?”

You know that your voice is as cold as ice, you wouldn’t have it any other way: if he’s here to sleep with you, like he would with a common whore, you want him to know he’s not welcome.

With long, slow strides, Aemond walks the length of the room, his long fingers light on the furniture and blankets, until he’s standing in front of you, forcing you to crane your neck to look at him.

“You have made yourself home, I see, all cozy.”

His voice is as cutting as yours to hide the pain.

How could you believe such a lie?

“Someone has to take care of me, since my husband doesn’t care about my well being.”

“You know that’s not true, wife.” He hisses.

You grab both his hands, stabbing his skin with your nails.

“Is it, though? I remember telling you time and time again how cold I found your room, I even fell ill, only for you to ignore the issue.”

“You’re still exaggerating, there’s no problem with my chambers!”

“Can’t you feel how warmer I am? Can’t you tell the difference from before?”

You try to control the rising emotions storming in your chest, the tears that want to tumble down your cheeks: why is he making this harder than it should be?

He’s not doing it on purpose, simply your skin had always felt colder to him because he isn’t capable of telling the difference: he runs too hot to truly notice, something all of Targaryens struggle with. Even his own mother’s hands had always felt cooler, whenever she would cup his face, it’s the same with you.

“You don’t feel any different, wife.”

He knows he’s said something wrong when you let go of his hands and turn around to face the fire, your shoulders trembling as if you were trying not to cry.

“Then I don’t think there’s anything else to say.”

You hate how small your voice sounds, how lonely you feel now that you have the incontrovertible proof that your husband doesn’t care about you.

Behind you Aemond is panicking, unable to understand why your words seem to have hurt you so deeply; he hasn’t said anything offensive, why are you shutting him out again?

Without thinking he grabs your arms to try and force you to turn around and look at him, stopping when you stiffen in his grasp.

“I don’t understand, wife.” He says, feeling like the words are forced out of his mouth. “Why are you acting this way?”

You evade his grasp to turn around and look at him with accusing eyes, full of anger and tears, your mouth twisted in an ugly snarl that bares your teeth like the ones of a savage beast.

“You don’t understand? You don’t understand?”

You try to push him away, to no avail, he’s too heavy to move, prompting you to hit his chest with your fists, until he grabs your wrist in a tight hold, fearing you would hurt yourself.

Your angers grows tenfold now that he’s restricting your movements and he’s not letting you evade his grasp again.

“How can you be so callous?” You scream in his face. “So uncaring? Let me go!”

Blinded by tears you can’t see Aemond’s pained expression: he’s surprised by the hate he hears in your words, he can’t believe you think he doesn’t care about you; you two have been fighting over nothing, he believed, why are you acting this way now?

His long arms curl around your body, forcing your face against the soft cotton of his undershirt, where you cry even more when his familiar scent attacks your senses: you missed him so much, the knowledge feels like a stab now that you know he doesn’t care about you.

Aemond genuinely doesn’t know what to do, what’s expected of him, or what he’s supposed to say to make you stop cry so desperately. Anything, he’d do anything if that meant you stopped pushing him away.

Still holding you tight, he helps you kneel on the soft rug, rocking both your bodies until he hears your dry hiccups.

You try to push him away with your hands trapped against his chest, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Let me go.” You manage to say, voice hoarse and small, muffled by his undershirt.

“No, I will not.” His arms tighten reflexively. “Not until you explain yourself to me.”

Oh Gods, you thought Aemond couldn't break whatever pieces were left of your heart, and he just did.

“Why would I try to explain myself, when you don’t care?”

“How can you say such a thing?”

“I can and I do, because it’s all you’ve been showing me: that I have an issue and you tell me you don’t see it, you’re not even open to discussing it! And even when I try to look after myself, because you showed me you wouldn’t, all you can do is be a stubborn oaf.” You extricate yourself from his arms, looking at him with puffy eyes. “Tell me, husband, why would I try to explain myself to you, when you don’t want to listen?”

Aemond Targaryen is many things: rider of the largest dragon in the known world, renowned swordsman and man of letters. He knows he can be as stubborn as Vhagar is, but he also knows he’s not an idiot, maybe daft, when his own pride is in the way of his intelligence, but not a downright imbecile, he’s not Aegon.

“I might have misread the whole issue, wife.”

He knows this is the understatement of the century. It’s still going to be the closest thing to a ‘I am sorry’ you’re going to get from him.

For the first time since this quarrel began, you feel he’s willing to listen to you.

You take a big breathe before you start talking.

“Your room is cold, Aemond. I don’t know why you don’t feel it, but I was freezing all the time, even bundled up in my warmest clothes. I fell ill, and still you treated me like a capricious child, not like a wife who is trying to solve a problem with their husband. You didn’t care about my discomfort, Aemond, you shrugged your shoulders at me: what was I supposed to do, when my husband showed me he didn’t care? I tried to find a solution that could be right for us both: I wouldn't freeze and you could stay in your beloved chambers.”

Yes, he realizes, he has been an utter at complete imbecile.

You weren’t antagonizing him because you couldn’t adjust into your new position, you weren’t acting unreasonable (that’s what he had thought when you had moved your belongings here) or spoiled, when you had told him you found his room drafty and cold: you had an issue he had completely overlooked and misunderstood. Then his pride won over his intelligence and a small issue had become a real threat to your union, something he can’t accept from himself.

Still, he’s not going to say he’s sorry.

He stops to look into your eyes, still red but lacking the anger and distrust.

“I sincerely didn’t feel the cold…”

“I don’t want to have that discussion again.” You stop him.

“Neither do I, wife. I say it because I never feel it. I am always warm, even during the coldest winters. I thought you’d acclimate yourself, that you would get used to it. Since you didn’t, and, as much as the architects can work on my chambers, they will always feel colder than the rest of the wing, which can’t satisfy your needs, we need to find a solution.”

And we could have been doing that since I moved, you want to say but keep it for yourself; in his own way, Aemond had admitted to his faults, which is something you couldn’t think would happen, not after those two awful weeks.

“I love my chambers, but I care about your well being, and our marriage more. The rooms you have chosen for yourself are big enough to house us both.”

“The mural above your bed, the painters can copy it here.”

“Only if you’re happy to share these chambers with me.”

“I am. It’s all I wanted from the start.”

“Would you let me sleep with you tonight, my wife?”

He hopes you’ll say yes, that you’ll let him show you how sorry he feels, since he’s too prideful to say it.

“Yes, my husband, sleep with me tonight, and all the nights that will follow.”

He smiles, happy that you two have reconciled.

Tomorrow he’ll think of an excuse to use with the rest of the family to explain why he’s moving here, with you, now his only goal is to make up for the weeks spent apart.

Aemond taglist: @fan-goddess, @xcharlottemikaelsonx, @qweencrimson

Ewanverse taglist: @vhagar-balerion-meraxes @zaldritzosrose @thought--bubble

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

Summary: It's Hendrix's first Thanksgiving, and though he's not even one month old, he still manages to be part of a sweet surprise.

TW: Reader is breastfeeding, mention of Grandma, reference to the events of chapter 8

WC: 1.2k

Divider credit to @saradika

November 1999

You had given Eddie one job: buy the items on the shopping list—and only the items on the shopping list. There’s the usual weekly groceries, but now there’s the addition of ingredients for Thanksgiving dinner. 

And, of course, a plethora of diapers and wipes for your nearly three-week-old son. 

Sweet baby Hendrix is the reason why you’re excused from navigating the overcrowded Walmart aisles, and why Eddie and Harris have gone in your place. You gaze down at your infant son, wincing as he latches onto your breast. 

“There you go, little man,” you murmur, smoothing down a wisp of his hair. “We’ve got this.”

The apartment is unnaturally quiet; the only sound coming from the living room radiator kicking on to ward off the early winter chill. It’s the calm before the holiday whirlwind, a slice of silence carved out just for you. 

You savor it, inhaling deeply. Hendrix remains undisturbed by your chest rising and falling, happy to be filling his belly before his next nap. He spends his days eating, sleeping, or crying. As Harris says, he doesn’t do any tricks yet. 

Hendrix finishes nursing as the front door clicks open. Adjusting your shirt, you offer Eddie and Harris a tired smile. 

“Glad to see you two survived.”

“Sure did.” Eddie places the bags on the countertop. “And we stayed within budget.”

Your heart surges when he begins unpacking and pulls out a plastic bag filled with Granny Smith apples. Even though Eddie and Wayne will be doing most of the cooking this year—which means a lot of pre-made and boxed dishes—you had insisted on making Grandma’s applesauce. 

“These the right ones?” Eddie asks, wiping a fake bead of sweat from his brow when you answer in the affirmative. “Thank God. I know how much the applesauce means to you.”

You offer a grateful smile as he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. It reminds you of the very first Thanksgiving you’d spent with him happened before you two were a couple—before he’d even taken you on a date. 

And, no, the drunken hook-up after his show at The Hideout didn’t count. 

Thanksgiving 1996 was spent eating Oreos and snuggling up on the couch, watching A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving with Eddie and Harris. Grandma was still alive, and you even caught a glimpse of her pre-illness self when Eddie played the Sinatra record. It seems like a million years ago, but it’s only been three. 

“Mommy, guess what?” Seven-year-old Harris calls out from where he’s peering into Hendrix’s bassinet. He doesn’t give you time to guess before he blurts out, “we got a surprise!”

You raise your brows. “A surprise? What is it?”

“Can’t tell ya.” He throws you a wink—where did he even learn that?—and makes a beeline for his room. 

Turning to your husband, you put your hands on your hips. “That surprise better not be more candy,” you warn. “He still has so much left from Halloween.”

Eddie shakes his head and grins. “Not candy.”

“Then what?”

“Can’t tell ya.” Eddie mimics the same wink as his oldest son, solving the mystery of its origin, tucking one particular bag underneath his arm. 

If you weren’t still freshly postpartum, you may have chased after him and insisted that he spill the secret. For now, you settle for flipping him off, and he blows you a cheeky kiss in return. 

Thanksgiving begins like any other normal day. Well, normal for the Munson household. 

Hendrix wakes up around the clock, but you get up for the day when his shrill wail jolts you from your sleep at six A.M. Your breasts are heavy with milk; a good thing, considering he sounds hungry. 

Harris, clad in his blue flannel pajamas, shuffles into your bedroom an hour later. He’s still wiping sleep from his eyes even as he talks. 

“Can we watch the parade?”

You hold your forefinger to your lips, praying that Harris’s entrance doesn’t wake the baby sleeping in Eddie’s arms. 

“It’s not on for another hour, Har Bear,” you whisper, patting the comforter. “But you can hang out with us until then.”

Harris nods, scrambling up onto the bed and plopping down between you and his dad. He glances up at Eddie with a pout. 

“Can I hold Hendrix? Pleeeeeease?”

Never one to shy away from theatrics, his brown eyes are wide as he pleads. 

“Actually,” Eddie says, his gaze flicking over to Harris, “I think we should get the surprise ready?”

Harris wrinkles his nose for a split second before he remembers. “Oh, yeah!” He tugs on Eddie’s undershirt sleeve. “We gotta do the surprise.”

You reach out for the baby, but Eddie shakes his head. “Not so fast, Sweetheart. All of the Munson boys are in on this.”

You’re not quite sure what your three-week-old could possibly contribute, but damn if you’re not intrigued. So you sit back, propped up against the pillows, and wait for them to return. 

Five minutes is long enough for you to doze off again, your body desperate for any scrap of sleep it can get. 

“Dad, she’s sleeping!” It comes from a voice right next to your ear. 

“Gently wake her up.” This voice is a bit farther away. Something shakes you. “I said gently, Har!”

You blink, massaging the back of your stiff neck from the awkward position you assumed during your impromptu nap. 

“I’m up.” You manage a small, tired smile. Harris stands right next to your bedside, but Eddie and Hendrix are nowhere to be found. “Is my surprise ready?”

Harris nods, glancing back at the empty doorway. “So…we just unwrapped the turkey, and it looks a little weird.”

He’s supposed to deliver it like it’s bad news, but his mischievous smile betrays him. 

Still, you play along. “It looks weird? What do you mean?”

That’s apparently Eddie’s cue. He creeps into the room, cradling Hendrix in his arms. Except the baby is no longer wearing his sage green pajamas. Now, he dons a brown onesie, a cartoon turkey face emblazoned on the belly. But the pièce de résistance is a tiny hat, a light brown pom pom puffing out from the top.

“That’s the cutest turkey I’ve ever seen!” Tears spring to your eyes, another sign that you’re still in the throes of postpartum hormones. You wipe them away before they can cause concern for the emotionally intuitive Harris. 

You reach out to take the teeny turkey from your husband. “I could just eat you right up,” you coo, pressing a kiss to Hendrix’s chubby cheek and breathing in his baby powder scent. 

“I found it,” Harris announces with a triumphant grin, “and Dad paid for it.”

“I know my place,” Eddie chuckles. “My wallet and I were ready.”

There’s a beat of silence as you take it all in. Your husband, proudly beaming as you snuggle Hendrix to your chest. Your oldest son, tickling Hendrix’s onesie-clad feet and making himself laugh. And your newborn-turned-turkey, scrunching up and then unfurling his little fist as he relaxes contentedly.

Harris looks up at you expectantly. “Is the parade on now?”

You and Eddie laugh, and Eddie ruffles Harris’s hair. 

There’s certainly plenty to be thankful for this year.

--

[i-cant-sing]

Just thinking about Yandere Todoroki clan and reader's random moments.

Reader coming home after a particularly bad day, but poor girl cant even cry or complain without everyone immediately overreacting and pulling you out of school/college or even keeping you from going out at all. So now, reader has to either cry in self pity before she enters her home, wipe her tears and fix herself just enough to show that she hadnt just bawled her eyes out moments ago. That, or do the more risky thing and go home, go to your room and cry under the covers, but then theres always the chance of Rei or the others walking in on you any moment.

Also thinking about baby/toddler reader being sick, just a common cold or flu, nothing major. But with reader whining and being so young, the family's infantalisation goes through the roof and theyd treat you as if you were immunocompromised. I wont lie, but I think Rei is almost kinda... glad when you get sick? She enjoys you being dependant on her for the most things, even when you grow up and are able to handle a cold, she still deludes herself into thinking that you need mommy to come and help you.

I think the one person who is most affected by reader getting sick, no matter what age, is Enji. The man just cant help but view you as a fragile, starving Victorian child the moment you fall ill. In his eyes, even a harsh blow of air is too much for a fragile thing like you, let alone something as bad as the flu. He just- he's holding toddler reader in his arms, who snuggles into his warm body, your tiny nose pink and he cant get the image of you crying and vomiting and being oh so feverish- thats just way too much for your small body. Oh how he almost cried when he took you to the doctor for a shot and you clung to him, trying to bury yourself into him as you begged him to make you feel better, cried to him that you didnt want to get the "big scary needle!" He just had to hold you there in his firm grip as you writhed, had to look away when you looked at him and he saw the feeling of betrayal in your eyes, had to keep himself from not strangling the fucking doctor for not being careful, had to walk out of the clinic and hand you to Rei because he couldnt hear you cry anymore, had to have Rei console both you and Enji (assuring him that "no, Enji. Y/n doesnt resent you for making her get a shot.") and he couldnt even sleep a wink that night because he was standing by your bed, holding your tiny hand with his pinky as a tear finally slipped out of his eye.

ALSO thinking about adult reader going out of the house to meet up with friends, except shes meeting up with them at a club instead of at their house like she told Enji and Rei, and now shes standing outside, abandoned by said friends, and shes now running because a group of pervy men are chasing her and she doesnt know who to call, so she just speed dials Shotou, except someone just changed all your speed dials to one number, and you think youre doomed when Shotou doesnt say a word to you and just hangs up when within minutes, someone comes in front of you-

"Dabi?" He tells you to cover your ears and look away, and you know well by know what that means, so you obey, feeling a bit regretful as those men begin to scream in agony. You dont know how long its been until Dabi pulls your hands away and examines your wounds. He lets you crash into his chest as you sob, and this time, Dabi simply decides to take you home quietly without a lecture.

Hmmm, also thinking about Natsuo who is usually cool as a cucumber, the most normal being in the family, except for his very rare episodes of unbridled rage where he suddenly becomes the Hulk. Good thing for you is that this anger is never directed towards you, rather towards people who actively threaten your life (except Rei cause she gets to play "Im your mom who became mentally unstable because of your abusive dad") The only time NAtsuo is stern with you is when it comes to your health. He's just looking at you with those strict eyes when you refuse to take your multivitamins, or dont want to get a flu shot, or try to make up an excuse so that he cant check your vitals. And when he just grabs your wrist and pulls you to sit down so that he can do his checkup, its in those moments that you realise just how strong your brother is... and how easy it may be for him to overpower you and sedate you if he ever followed through Rei's threats.

[kamii-2]

can i req a angst? kk arnold x reader. reader was having a tiring and stressful day! so she was angry, very angry and bored. kk tried to approach her to annoy her a bit (as always) just jokingly, but reader unintentionally ends taking out everything in kk, she yelled at her, cursed... and kk becomes sad 🥺🥺

hi anon,i hope you enjoy the story!

warning(s): cussing, angst

genre: angst & fluff

pairing(s): kk arnold x reader

==================================

today was one of those days where everyone was making you mad. you woke up mad and as the day went on you got more mad, nobody really talked to you today and you were glad. after all of your classes you went to your apartment, kk was already there waiting on you. when you walked in you put everything up then went to sit on the couch. “hey baby.” kk said as she walks out from your room, sitting next to you, you muttered a hi back and started to work on homework and other things on your computer.

kk started to poke you over and over again even if you said what, and you were starting to get mad and should’ve said stop but you weren’t thinking straight and instead of saying stop you yelled at her. “kk stop, i’m not in the fucking mood, leave me the hell alone for once!” yoi realized what you said and immediately shut the laptop and set it down on the coffee table, “kk i’m so sorry.” you said as kk moved to the other side of the couch, visibly upset. “please kk im sorry, i didn’t mean to yell at you.” kk kept ignoring you. “kk.” you said as she got up and put her shoes on and walked out of your apartment.

the moment kk left you started to write a paragraph to her about how sorry you were and you told her the reason you yelled at her in the first place. she replied fast and it was not what you were expecting at all

“why are you texting me? i thought you wanted me to leave you alone for once” reading the text made your heart break and you started crying so hard. you had no response to the message so you left her on read and went to bed, the sweetest and happiest person you know is now mad at you and won’t speak to you. the only person who can cheer you up no matter what was now the reason you’re crying. you were thinking of all of the things she might do, will she break up with you? will she stop talking to you? you weren’t sure and you didn’t want to find out.

-

it had been a week since you accidentally yelled at kk and she left your apartment. you guys haven’t talked since, she’s been ignoring you, you didn’t know what to do. even though kk has every right to be mad, you mad at her for being mad. you were mad that she wouldn’t hear you out and listen to what you had to say. you were getting sick and tired of her ignoring you over an accident.

you were so sick of it you literally went to her dorm. you knew she most likely wouldn’t answer because it’s her shared dorm with her team, but you didn’t care. it was 7:12 pm and you were at her dorm, knocking and waiting for someone to answer. after a few minutes her teammate caroline answered, “kk doesn’t want to speak.” she said while attempting the shut the door. you slide in as she was shutting the door, getting smashed but still getting in, “i don’t care.” you replied and you ran to kk’s room before someone could grab you.

when you walked in kk was in her bed, looking sad while scrolling on her phone. she looked up and seemed happy before immediately looking mad, “how did you get in?” she asked rudely, “doesn’t matter, anyway i came here to apologize for everything. i said the things i did brii was in a really bad mood, which doesn’t excuse my behavior, but still im really sporty and ill do anything to make you forgive me. im really sorry.” you quickly but sincerely apologized. kk just stared at you for a second before getting up and hugging you, “im sorry to over reacting and not talking to you for a week but what you said really hurt me.” she whispered into your neck, still hugging you.

you weren’t sure how but this simple hug felt like it fixed everything. she hugged you so tight, not loosening her grip once. everything felt like normal, it wasn’t awkward and silent like how it had been for the past week. this hug was everything but awkward, it may have been silent but it wasn’t a bad one, a comforting one.

you two stood there hugging for a while, you were surprised nobody walked in or tried to. when your long hug ended, kk led you to the bed and showered you with kisses and praises. “i love you so much, i never want to lose you.” she smiled and she continued to kiss all over your face, you giggled and wrapped your arms around her waist, pulling her closer into you. everything was back to normal.

==================================

so sorry this took 4 million years to get out but i really hope you liked it, i hope you have a good day/night, love you 💋💋

[justphilia]

Rating Dungeon Meshi Characters Based on How Well They Can Take Care of Me When I'm Sick

Scale of 1 to 10, 10 being the best. Precaution I have bias for women.

Laios - 7/10 He'll definitely try his best, but he's not very good at it. Achieves the bare minimum of keeping me fed and making sure I take my meds, but most of the time he wouldn't really know what to do to help more. As I drift in and out of consciousness, I see him staring at me with his autism eyes through the gap of my door.

Falin - 9/10 Practically my bedside nurse. Checks my temperature every so often, makes sure to keep my forehead cool. She makes it possible for me to be glad I'm sick, though I am not sure if she knows how to cook. Fortunately, too ill to gaf. Also it's Falin.

Marcille - 9/10 She will think I am dying and because of this she's desperate to help me recover. Heh. I love the attention. But I think. I THINK. she may not know what she is doing about a quarter of the time. She'll read the instructions on my meds like 5 times before giving it to me. She'll research what kind of foods is good for speedy recovery. She'll forget to wring the cold rag before putting it on my head, and every time I fall asleep she thinks I passed away.

Chilchuck - 6/10 Like my dad. "Don't forget to take your meds." Feeds me porridge for lunch and dinner. I don't see his face like the whole day, but I'll be unsure if it's because he's purposely checking in on me when I'm knocked out or he just doesn't want to bother me at all. I can't ask, because he wouldn't answer honestly (he's embarrassed).

Senshi - 8/10 I feel like he's gonna be like my mom and feed me herbal medicine and home remedies. My recovery will be slightly slower, but I'll recover. I will be eating soooo good, 'cause he'll definitely put a spin on every meal meant to help me recover. He sits by my bedside and does his own thang while I sleep, or talk about what he put in my food as like a bedtime story. When he goes to the toilet, I cry.

Toshiro (without his retainers [not including Izutsumi]) - 4/10 Porridge is simple enough to make, I think he is capable of that at the very least. I think he'd make sure I drink enough water, and will ask if I've taken my meds yet. But that's all his efforts and capabilities. I wouldn't blame him. He wears a mask when he enters my room.

Toshiro (with his retainers) - 9/10 Maizuru alone bumped the score by three points because she'll make sure to help Toshiro keep me well fed. But because she's only helping me for Toshiro, she wouldn't go all out with the care. It's okay, their company is enough. I will most likely think I died and went to heaven. They all are wearing masks under Maizuru's order—don't want them catching it and spreading it to Toshiro.

Izutsumi - 2/10 It may be over for me. But if she sleeps at the foot of my bed the entire time and gets me packaged food and water when I ask, I'll live.

Namari - 8/10 Idk. Like! Idk! I think she's gonna be like Laios about it, like she really tries her best, but she's unsure. She's like a combo of Laios and Chilchuck—she can make me food and make sure I take my meds, but I would hardly see her throughout the day. Sometimes she'll come in and ask if I need anything, and if I ask her to stay she'll linger at the doorway then step inside. When I wake up, she may be gone.

Kabru - 7/10 I kinda...don't want him here.....like....I like his face and everything, but I feel. scared. at the thought of being sick and him taking care of me. Might be the blue eyes. Nevertheless, he's able to make sure I don't get worse. He can cook and will help me take my meds, put a cool rag over my forehead, and keep me company until I fall asleep. "I guess you owe me one!" he'll laugh lightly as my fever-fried brain stares at him, and I won't know if he's serious until he tells me so.

Mithrun - 1/10 I am Gone but also he's very attractive so I think I'll die happy.

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Look At You - Eddie Munson X Female Reader

Title: Look At You

Eddie Munson X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Reader's friend, Hellfire Club (Mentioned), Reader's mother, and Chris (OC)

Loosely Inspired By: One Of Your Girls by Troye Sivan

WC: 11,764

Warnings: Parties briefly mentioned, vomit briefly mentioned, alcohol (teens mentioned drinking), drugs, Reader's a bit shy in the beginning, movie references, nicknames, Reader's mother is emotionally/verbally/mentally abusive, fear of needles, friends to lovers, yelling, crying, cursing, teasing, banter, flirting, very brief mentions of food issues, angst, and fluff

You scrunched your shoulders closer to yourself, your hands clutched your book to your chest with an iron grip as your friend dragged you into some party. Your senses were overwhelmed by the loud pulsating music rattling the entire house, echoing and reverberating throughout your body as you pushed through the hordes of drunk teenagers; the smell of vomit and alcohol made you scrunch up your nose in disgust.

It was the perfect combination to make the night miserable; the smell, the noise, and most importantly, the people. You were not very much of a people person. When meeting someone, or talking to someone new, you were quiet; shy. But, once you grew comfortable with the person, you would talk and talk. 

Parties were the bane of your existence, and so was your friend. You loved your friend dearly, but you hated when they convinced you, more like peer pressure, you into going to dumb parties. You got out of them somewhat, faking an illness or your need to finish your homework, but that would only help you for so long. You could've been home, eating junk food, watching ‘Labyrinth’ for the ten millionth time as you idolized Jennifer Connelly.

Your sweet daydreams were quickly cut short though as your friend pulled you into the main room full of sweaty teens, dancing wildly around each other as the lights from the ceiling threw shadows all over the place. You cringed at how much louder the music had gotten as ‘You Spin Me Round’ played from a large speaker in the corner of the room. 

Your friend's hand around your bicep shook, gaining your attention. You turned to them, seeing the bright smile on their face and the excitement in their eyes. You'd feel happy for them, but you were very overwhelmed and uncomfortable at that moment.

"Hey!" They called over the music, their body already dancing to the music slightly. "I'm going to say hey to Brian and Allison. Go to the kitchen and get a drink, you need it! Loosen up and have fun for once!"

You had to suppress the urge to roll your eyes as you watched your friend leave you, rushing to a small group of teens, red solo cups and beer bottles in their hands. You felt fear engulf you, your whole body growing cold as you looked around the room rapidly, your eyes darting at the dancing teens and the bright party lights. Your heart began to race in your chest, you couldn't breathe, and it was all becoming too profoundly difficult to stay in that room. You mustered up the strength to push through the crowd, as if going through a maze of people you tried to squeeze through; finally making your way out the back sliding door.

Breathing deeply as you stood outside, you let out a breath of relief. Your head spun a little bit, feeling dizzy at the sudden change in environment, but you tried your best to stay calm. Looking down at your hands, you let out another breath, glad your book made it out of that warzone without a rip or tear.  

"You okay?" You heard a voice speak up, much louder than the music pumping behind you; muffled by the sliding glass door. You quickly turned to the voice, seeing a guy leaning against the wall of the house, knee bent and foot pressed against it; his hands stuffed in his pockets. He was looking up at the sky, not even looking at you. You stared at him before you looked around you, no one else was outside, aside from you and him.

You swallowed thickly, "Me?" You asked, turning back to the young man, slightly shrouded by the awning; casting him in a dark shadow.

"You're the only one out here with me, correct?" He asked, pushing off of the wall to turn and finally look at you. "You looked pretty frazzled when you came out." He then added, making you narrow your eyes at him slightly.

"Why do you care?" You asked, normally you were so forward when talking to new people, but you were really annoyed, tired, and wanted to go home.

"I'm not like those brain dead zombies in there," He said, stepping into the light, finally allowing you to see who you were talking to. "I'm Eddie."

He had long, curly dark brown hair, brown eyes, and a rockstar type of style. You watched as he pulled his hands out of his black ripped jeans pockets, noting the rings adorning some of his fingers as he crossed his arms; noticing his leather jacket with a denim vest over it. It looked homemade, with rips and tears; patches of rock bands and pins. He was cute, you'd give him that. Looking back up at his face, you realized that you should've been talking a while ago.

"I- I'm Y/N." You introduced yourself, noticing a small tin box of some kind hanging from a clasp from his belt loop. "And I'm fine."

This... Eddie, just smiled at you, chuckling, "I'll believe that when I see it. You're shaking like a leaf." He mentioned, making you look down at yourself, seeing that you were in fact shaking. Well, mostly your hands. You clutched your book tighter, trying to stop them.

You looked up at the sky, or what you could see of it, away from Eddie and the partygoers. "I'm fine." You repeated softly, and Eddie hummed, looking you over.

"Not a party person?" He asked, and you remained silent as he continued, "Or people person? I mean, I get that. I don't care for it either." He shrugged as you looked at him again.

"Then why are you here?" Only to watch Eddie smirk, leaning his side against the side of the house.

"I could ask you the same." He said with a laugh.

"Touche." You mumbled as Eddie sighed softly, glancing off to the darkened yard before looking back at you.

"I'm here on business, but you... What about you?" He asked, and you sighed, looking back up at the night sky; seeing a few stars past the dark clouds.

"My friend dragged me here." You began, biting your lip briefly, "I didn't want to go, if they didn't take me I would-"

"Be cuddled up in a comfy blanket, watching a romcom or something?" Eddie interrupted you, and you shrugged one shoulder up.

"More or less. That is usually my evening. Relaxing or doing homework." You answered, growing more and more comfortable with Eddie as you talked to him. “But I’m not really a romcom kind of girl.”

Eddie hummed, before he grabbed the tin box at his hip, opened it, and pulled out what you assumed was a blunt. You assumed right as he brought it up to his lips, pulling out a lighter from his back jean pocket. He flicked it open with his thumb, before pushing down the thumbwheel. He did it a couple of times, with no luck of any flame. Sighing out his nose, he leaned his head back against the wall, frustrated. You stared at him, pursing your lips as you slowly dug into your pocket, pulling out your own lighter. Testing it, you pushed down the thumbwheel, sending out a little orange flame. 

Eddie looked up at the sound of your lighter, "Wow, do you think you could give me a light here?" He asked you as you shut your lighter, pushing your finger over the metal cover, feeling the engraving.

Walking over, you moved your book under your arm as you stopped in front of Eddie. Flicking open the zippo lid, you created the flame as Eddie reached down to grab your wrist. You were surprised at how gentle he was as he raised your hand up, moving the end of his blunt to the open flame. Standing so close to him, he already smelt like cannabis, but also, surprisingly, strawberries. Letting out a puff of smoke through his nose, Eddie let go of your hand. You immediately missed the warmth, as the cold autumn air chilled your wrist. You quickly pushed that thought out and took a step back.

"Thanks, babe." Eddie winked at you, making your face warm up at the sudden nickname.

He then took another deep breath, letting out the smoke into the night air; you watched it swirl into nothingness. "You smoke?" He asked abruptly, breaking the silence between the two of you as if he didn't feel the awkward tension that you felt crawling down your spine.

"Ew, no. No. It's my father's." You explained swiftly, and Eddie nodded.

"Wicked," Eddie nodded, taking another drag from his blunt. "Better than my lighter for sure. Broken shit. Gotta get a new one." He mumbled to himself as you watched him.

"You know that's, like, bad for you, right?" You spoke up, “It could kill you.” Your nose scrunching up at the terrible smell as Eddie shrugged.

"Eh, that's just what society tells everyone.” He countered, “Besides, it calms me down, and believe me. I need to calm down." Eddie laughed out before he paused and turned to you, twisting the smoking blunt between his fingers. "I can put it out if you're uncomfortable though... Smoke and all." He offered and you shook your head. You didn't really care that much, you'd probably leave soon anyway; try and find your friend before they get too drunk and go home. Eddie let out the last bit of smoke before he dropped the dead blunt to the ground, crushing it with the heel of his white Reebok sneakers. "So," He began, stuffing his hands into his jeans pockets again. "Tell me about yourself, Y/N." 

You turned to him, bewildered that he was still trying to talk to you. You didn't mind it, but normally people didn't talk to you long. Either getting bored of you or the conversation. And normally, you wouldn't be talking to strangers, especially guys. Especially a guy that you barely knew. And who was cute, but that was beside the point. "What's there to know?" You asked skeptically, watching as Eddie shrugged again, his head tilting to the side a bit.

"Well, I've never seen you around school before, which is crazy since I feel like if I saw you, I would've remembered meeting you." He stated, “Plus,” He added, “You seem like a fun girl to talk to." He pointed out, taking you back slightly. "I'd like to get to know you; if you’d let me." He finished, making your cheeks flush in shock and embarrassment. 

"You... You want to get to know me?" You asked, bewildered and beyond dumbfounded as you watched Eddie nod his head with a smile on his face.

"I think you're pretty cool, so yeah... I'd like to get to know you." Eddie repeated, and you shook your head.

"I'm not that cool. I mean, we just met, like, ten minutes ago. How can you think I’m cool in that short amount of time?" You asked, making Eddie sputter out a laugh.

"Not cool? Impossible. Your style alone is cool, babe." He gestured to your attire with a hand before stuffing it back into his pocket; it was getting colder, but you didn’t seem to notice.

You looked down at your clothes, your rainbow-striped sweater, blue flared jeans, white socks, and your red hightop Converse. Nothing special, it wasn't like you looked as cool as him. Him and his punk leather, rockstar attitude. He was probably in a band or something. You looked back up at him, clutching your book as you spoke shortly, "Thanks. I like yours too."

Eddie's eyes widened slightly before he gave you a toothy grin, "Why, thank you, my lady." He bowed, making you laugh - a snort escaping - covering your mouth with your hand as his eyes lit up and he stood back up straight. Bringing a hand up, he ran a hand through his hair, his jacket sleeve moving up as he did so. Your eyes widened as you saw his arm, seeing a tattoo on his skin. 

"You have a tattoo?" You asked in awe, as Eddie nodded.

"I actually have five." Eddie corrected, pulling down the collar of his band tee to reveal a tattoo on his chest, near his collarbone.

"Five? Wow," You replied, "I've always wanted a tattoo, but my mom is really not okay with them."

Eddie watched as you walked over, leaning against the wall beside him. "Really?" He asked, amazed by you as you nodded, a small smile on your face.

"Yeah, she thinks that it’s devil crap or something. I just think she needs to be more open minded." You replied, before looking up at Eddie. “And it may sound silly, but I never really knew what I would get if I got one… I just knew that I really wanted one - Something - anything.” You shrugged, shuffling the soles of your shoes on the patio concrete before continuing, "If I may, could I see the one?" You inquired and Eddie was happy to answer, pulling his sleeve up to show you his bats. He watched as your eyes lit up, your hand reaching forward, but freezing. You look up with your big eyes, looking right into his brown ones with uncertainty. "May I touch it?"

Eddie just smiled, "Go for it." 

You reached out, before pressing your pointer finger along the small bats, outlining them. Your warm touch sent a shiver down Eddie's spine making him hold his breath as he watched you carefully. His brown eyes followed every movement of your finger, goosebumps appearing as your finger brushed against his skin. You were so gentle, kind; it made Eddie's chest feel warm. 

"Did it hurt?" You asked, bringing your hand back to your side as you sputtered a short laugh, "Of course it had to of had to, silly questions."

Eddie shook his head, clearing his throat as he slid his sleeve back down. "No, not silly at all. It did hurt, especially my puppet master one, but the least of all was the bats."

You hummed with a small smile, "That's the one thing I'm scared of. I'm not good with pain. Needles scare the crap out of me." You admitted and Eddie’s grin widened, one of his shoes gently knocking into one of yours.

"Well, if you ever want to break some rules, I know a place. And, I'd be happy to tag along." Eddie softly offered, making you pause for a second, before nodding your head.

"Yeah, I'll keep that in mind." You laughed, making Eddie’s grin soften slightly. You looked down at your wrist at your watch, seeing the time, your eyes widened, "Oh, goodness. It's very late. I need to get home."

"Need a ride?" He was quick to ask, not wanting your conversation to end, as you bit your lip, glancing inside the house through the glass sliding door; you were unable to find your friend in the crowd. You didn't want to have to go in there and find them. So, weighing your options, you looked up at Eddie. 

"Yeah, a ride would be great."

~~~

From then on, you and Eddie were inseparable. Joined to the hip. At school, you ate lunch with him and his club friends, your chair incredibly close to his as you laughed along to something Eddie had said. You even stayed after school when Eddie had his Hellfire club, watching beside him - usually sat upon the cushioned arm of his throne, as he looked over his game as the game’s Dungeon Master.

Every day was a new experience for you. Spending time with Eddie made you forget all about your problems and worries at home. You found it easy to slip into normalcy, laughing with him and joking around. You never thought you would find someone who made you so happy, someone who made it so easy to just be yourself; without the fear of judgment or disappointment.

Eddie had such an easygoing nature about him, always having fun. There was something different about him that made you feel comfortable. And it wasn't long until you realized you had feelings for him. Which really scared you. These feelings... They were dangerous. But… You couldn't help it. 

However, it did land you into some inner tumoral. Sometimes, your mind would begin to blank, your thoughts dwindling until all you thought about was how you wanted to run your fingers through his hair or press your lips to his. But just being able to simply sit next to him, listening to his voice, feeling his presence; was enough. That was enough for you.

~~~

Eddie pulled into your driveway, turning off the engine once parked. Turning to you, he watched as you unbuckled and grabbed your bag from between your feet; double-checking your bag to see if you had everything. You then turned to Eddie, seeing that he was already looking at you, startling you slightly, but making your cheeks flush.

"You got everything, babe?" He asked and you nodded, leaning over the middle console to press a kiss to Eddie's cheek.

"Thank you for driving me home, Eds." You replied and Eddie rolled his eyes jokingly.

"Y/N, baby, no need to thank me. It's what best friends do. I’ll call you when I get home." He shooed you along, making you laugh as you opened your door and hopped out. 

Walking backwards, you waved goodbye as Eddie pulled out of the driveway, a bright smile on your face. Once he was out of sight, you let out a happy sigh, turning around and heading up the steps to your home. Finding the door already unlocked, like it was most days, you walked on in with a smile on your face. Kicking off your converse, you dropped your backpack at the stairs before passing the living room and heading to the kitchen.

"Y/N." Your mother's voice rang out, making you pause midstep, going back to the living room where your mother sat in her armchair, book in hand. She took her reading glasses off the bridge of her nose, closing them, and placing them on the small table beside her. She then stared at you, a frown on her face, her hands interlaced in her lap, "Have you been with that boy again?" Her tone was stern and demanding, making you bite your lip nervously as you looked down at the ground.

"Yes... Mom, I—" Before you could continue, she cut you off with a wave of her hand.

"Don't 'Mom' me. That boy is bad news. I told you to stay away from him." Her voice rose slightly in pitch and volume with each sentence.

"But-"

"And don't tell me how you feel about this, he's the devil! Playing those- those demonic games-”

"He's not the devil!" You shouted suddenly, causing your mother to jump slightly and stare at you. "I like him, okay?! I like him more than anyone I've ever met! He's my best friend and I can't just not hang out with him anymore." You finished your voice breaking as tears formed in your eyes.

Your mother blinked several times before standing up, walking over to you.

"Oh, my darling honey," She began as she cupped your cheeks in her hands, "It's not safe for you to get involved with those types of boys.” The cadence in her voice sounded like she was speaking to an errant child. “Now, I better not see you around him any longer or we might have to move again." She ended the conversation, pinching your cheek before she left for the kitchen.

You watched her leave, tears streaming down your face, completely heartbroken as you rubbed the cheek she pinched. She didn't understand Eddie, and she never would. But her threat frightened you. You knew that if she caught you with Eddie, she would move the two of you away again. She did it once, she’d do it again. 

Grabbing your backpack, you headed straight to your room, forgetting about that snack you wanted as you shut your door. Dropping your bag, you finally let go, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you fell onto your bed. Laying on your stomach, you smashed your face onto your pillow, letting out a small, muffled sob as you began to cry. What else could you do? Before you could even start brainstorming ideas, you jumped slightly when you heard your phone ring, reaching over you, grabbing it, and bringing it to your ear.

"Hello?" You asked, clearing your throat and hoping you didn't sound as sad as you were.

"Hey! Babe! How's my favorite girl doing?"

Eddie.

Of course, it was Eddie. He said he was going to call you.

Your eyes widened as you struggled to sit up straight, "Eddie, you have to be quick, my mom could be listening." You whispered, hoping your mother ignored the phone but you still felt uneasy as you clutched the phone with a death-like grip.

Eddie pursed his lips in thought as he leaned against the wall of his trailer by the wall-mounted phone. You had only told Eddie about your mother once, but Eddie could tell from that one time that your mother was a tough subject for you, so he never pressed you further. Even though he had a lot of questions.

"Okay, okay! Don't worry, babe, alright? I'll be quick. Promise." Eddie assured, hearing movement on the other side of the line, "I just wanted to let you know that the meeting next week has been moved to five. Henderson has a dentist appointment or something after school."

You hesitated, biting your lip. "Okay, that's good to know. Thank you, Eddie." You spoke out with a breath.

Eddie began to twirl the phone cord between his fingers, his eyes staring at an old, discolored spot on the floor by his feet, "Are you okay?" He asked, and it seemed like a dumb question to him. Of course, you probably weren't okay. The way you sounded over the phone, he could hear how upset you were.

You paused, biting your lip, trying to think of anything, anything, to say. "What makes you ask that?" You replied. You hoped he wouldn't notice the slight shake in your voice.

"You sound kind of down," He replied, his voice low, his eyes focused on the discoloration, "I know I can't see you right now, but I bet you got a frown on that pretty face of yours." You sighed, and even though you still felt pretty terrible, hearing his voice, and just him in general, was enough to lift your spirits a little. You didn't think that you would fall even deeper for Eddie, but there you went. It was like your heart belonged to him already. You heard a bit of shuffling on his end before he spoke once more, "I know I said that I'd be quick, and I will, so... I'll see you tomorrow?" You could almost hear the hopeful tone in his voice; though, there was a hint of unsureness lingering there.

"Yeah..." You muttered, "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, babe."

You let a small sigh escape you, "Goodnight, Eds."

Hanging up the phone, you hoped to god that your mother wasn't listening in as you slid yourself further onto your bed, your back pressed against the headboard. You wrapped your arms around your knees, resting your chin on them, your bottom lip trembling. Tears slowly began to trickle down your cheeks, leaving tracks in their path, and you buried your face in your arms, allowing yourself to become engulfed in darkness.

~~~

The next morning, you woke up groggy. Clearing the little crust away from the corners of your eyes, you sat up with a small groan. As you got ready for the school day, you tried to remember when you fell asleep last night, but you couldn't remember. Walking to one side of the room, you opened your small dresser, grabbing a pair of pants before starting to really get ready for the day.

You sat on the edge of your bed, fixing the cuff of your red jeans as you leaned to the side slightly, peeking out your bedroom window. Seeing your mother's car gone and missing from the driveway, you let out a small breath of relief, your shoulders dropping. 

Sliding your black studded belt through your belt loops, you walked over to your closet. Shuffling through your many hanging shirts of various colors, your hand paused on one, near the back of the closet. Pushing the shirts on their hangers to the side, you pulled the black shirt off the pole and towards you. Holding it up, you couldn't help but smile, your free hand coming up to grasp the soft fabric; rubbing it between your fingers. 

The shirt was black with the main print being a graveyard. Rows and rows of cross-shaped tombstones stood, a pair of red hands loomed above, holding strings that dropped down and connected to some of the tombstones. The words, 'Metallica' was in silver in the middle of the shirt, while 'Master Of Puppets,' was printed at the bottom of the illustration.

It was Eddie's and you may or may not have stolen it from him one of the times you visited him at his trailer - and he didn't mind. You usually wore it to sleep, but the scent, which was so perfectly Eddie, had begun to fade, which made you sad. Slipping it off the hanger, you replaced your nightshirt with the band tee, feeling a wave of comfort wash over you as it covered your body. 

Grabbing your backpack from near your bedroom door and your denim jacket from the hook, you headed out into the hallway, and down the stairs. As you slid on your black Converse, you side-eyed the clock on the wall, seeing that you did not have enough time to eat before you began your trek down to the high school. And so, with a hungry stomach, you slipped on your backpack and headed out the door.

~~~

As the school day went on, you felt as if you were drowning. Your classes were boring and monotonous as the teacher droned on about the Civil War, giving no real attention to the class except for a few snickers from the students behind him as he wrote on the chalkboard. When the bell finally rang, you quickly packed up all your things and rushed to leave the classroom, eager to get out.

Unfortunately for you, the halls were packed with students, meaning that you could not make your escape without brushing against others. You sighed, running your fingers through your hair as you looked around, hoping to find an opening to get through.

Finding a small opening, you took your chance, speeding through, you maneuvered through the crowd as people gave way to you. Your heart rate increased as you pushed through everyone, making your way towards the cafeteria. Once inside, you let your eyes scan the room, quickly spotting Eddie sitting with his club members. Making your way over, you couldn't help but feel giddy as your legs carried you over to him, unable to hide the huge grin forming on your face.

Turning his head, Eddie's eyes met yours, they brightened, a smile growing on his lips. Standing, he met you halfway, letting out a small grunt as you threw yourself into his arms. Eddie hugged you tightly, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you off the ground as he spun you in circles; making you laugh as you held onto him. When you both stopped spinning, Eddie set you back on the ground. Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself to enjoy this moment, savoring the warmth he provided as he held you close to your chest; rubbing your cheek on his denim vest and leather jacket combo. 

Looking up at him, he was already looking down at you, his eyes roamed over your face. You gazed right back into those chocolate-brown eyes of his, feeling the anxiety and sadness just melt away instantly. "Hey." You breathed out quietly, smiling as he pulled you closer to him, his hands finding their place on your waist.

"Hey, there, babe," He spoke softly, moving a stray piece of hair behind your ear. "Looks like somebody missed me." He teased, earning a light slap on his upper arm. 

Rolling your eyes playfully, you pouted, "Of course, I missed you, Eds." Eddie chuckled as he nuzzled his nose into your hairline, breathing in the sweet smell of your coconut shampoo.

After a moment, you felt the side of your face buzz, feeling eyes on you. Looking over, you huffed, gaining Eddie's attention. Eddie followed your eyes, seeing his club members staring at you and him. Half of them were trying to muffle their laughter, making Eddie glare at the group. 

"What are you airheads looking at? Get back to eating, nothing to see here." Eddie spoke out, his gaze never leaving yours. His tone was firm. With a shrug, the group turned their heads back down to what they were doing, not wanting to draw any more attention than necessary. "Come on," Eddie spoke softly, only to you, "Let's get out of here." You nodded your head, following beside him as he led you out of the cafeteria.

Stepping outside, you and Eddie walked out into the woods by the school, stepping over tree roots and walking around bushes and trees, you finally spotted the old picnic bench. Sitting down, you tucked your legs under the table as Eddie sat down with his legs on either side of the bench; facing you.

After a couple of minutes of silence, Eddie smiled over at you, "Look at you. You look beautiful today. Especially in my shirt."

You laughed lightly, feeling your face flush, "Thanks, Eddie."

"No, I'm serious," He continued, scouting a smidge closer, "I should give you my shirts more often… Actually, just take all my clothes. I don’t need them.”

You shook your head, grinning as you glanced around the woods, "You wouldn't get them back if you did that." You pointed out with a laugh.

Eddie chuckled, shaking his head a bit, his bangs falling into his eyes slightly, "Maybe, maybe not." Eddie replied, turning his body so that his arm was leaning against the table, propping his head up on his hand, "But you do look beautiful today."

"That's the second time now. How many times are you going to compliment me today?" You asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Well," He chuckled, his mouth twisting upwards in amusement, "I can't seem to stop myself."

Your eyebrows raised slightly as you stared down at your lap, you bit your lip. You could feel your heart beating faster, pounding loudly in your chest, your ears feeling slightly warm. You doubted that you would ever get used to hearing him say those things to you. You cleared your throat, glancing back at him, "So," You trailed off, "How was your morning?"

He grinned, chuckling, "Boring, without you." He huffed, "I wish we had the same classes."

"Me too." You nodded your head, "I think History would actually be fun if you were in my class." You muttered, shrugging a shoulder, "I could hardly pay attention."

"Well, you wouldn't pay attention if I was in class with you." Eddie joked, causing you to chuckle slightly.

"You're right." You giggled, fidgeting with your fingers in your lap, watching as the wind blew through his dark, curly locks. "You're such a bad influence on me." Immediately as you said that, your smile slipped, turning into a small frown. Even though you were joking, that was what your mother thought he was.  

Eddie leaned forward in his seat slightly, his elbow resting on the table, as he watched you intently, studying the expression on your face, "Y/N? Hey…" Eddie questioned quietly, reaching out and taking your hand in his. "What's wrong, babe?"

You swallowed hard, trying to avoid his gaze as you answered, "Nothing," You cleared your throat, "I'm fine."

Eddie pursed his lips, narrowing his eyes, "I know you're not." He scooted closer, interlacing his fingers with yours, "What's going on?" You looked up at him, you returned to biting your lip. "Do you wanna talk about it?" He asked. 

"It's my mom..." You replied softly, running a hand through your hair, "She doesn't like you."

"A lot of people don't like me, sweetheart." Eddie replied nonchalantly, squeezing your hand lightly as he gave you a lopsided grin.

You huffed, "I know. But, she doesn't want me to hang out with you anymore. And when I told her I wouldn't stop spending time with you, she got all mad. She told me that I shouldn't be friends with someone who's... The devil. That you’ll brainwash me." You whispered, looking down at the table, "I- I don't know what to do... I mean, she made me move that last time I made friends with someone she didn't approve of... I don't want to leave. I don't want to leave you." Sighing deeply, you shut your eyes, tears burned behind them as you finished, "It hurts, Eddie."

Silence filled the air between you two. A minute passed before you heard a sigh escape his lips. Opening one eye, you glanced up at Eddie, his brows furrowed in frustration. Leaning forward again, you watched as he reached out, brushing his hand across your cheek; wiping away the lone tear that managed to escape your eye.

"Y/N..."

"And- And, I don't care what she thinks." You whispered, shaking your head. "I just dont- I don't know what I'd do without you." You admitted, sniffling slightly as you stared at him; your brown eyes meeting his chocolate ones.

The corner of his mouth curved upward, a genuine grin spreading across his face, "I don't know what I'd do without you, babe." As he spoke these words, he brought your hand up to his lips, placing a soft kiss on the center of your palm. "You make this shit town a whole lot better."

You blinked a few times, noticing how close you and Eddie were to each other, your cheeks flushed as your heart started racing once more. Licking your suddenly dry lips, you opened your mouth slightly, but no sound came out.

Eddie's eyes were trapped as he observed every detail in your face. The slight hint of your freckles, cheeks, and back to your bright, shimmering eyes; your lashes still wet from your prior tears. His half-lidded gaze then flickered down to your lips, and his tongue traced his bottom lip nervously. As Eddie's gaze lingered on your lips, a mix of emotions swirled in his eyes. Unbeknownst to you, Eddie had always harbored a special adoration for you ever since the night you both met at that dreadful party that you'd been dragged to. He had never met anyone like you before.

His heart would flutter every time you bantered back and forth and the way you would shyly smile in his presence only fueled his hidden affections. In those stolen moments where your eyes met and sparks seemed to fly, Eddie couldn't help but wonder if you felt the same way, buried beneath the layers of playful teasing and genuine friendship.

As you sat there, hand in hand, Your breath hitched as the atmosphere between you and Eddie crackled with an undeniable tension as you sat there, the weight of unspoken words lingering in the air. In a moment of daring courage, you both leaned in, hearts pounding in sync, unsure of what the next second would bring.

As your lips drew closer, a mix of nerves and anticipation enveloped you. Eddie's gaze softened, his usually mischievous eyes now filled with a vulnerability that mirrored your own. The world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you, suspended in a moment that felt both surreal and inevitable.

And then, in a flutter of breath and hesitancy, Eddie's nose brushed the side of yours, his hot breath caressing your cheeks. Your hand shook slightly as you brushed the tips of your fingers against his cheek, your eyes fluttered as your lips met in the middle; your hearts beating frantically in unison.

Your lips moved together slowly, gently moving against each other as you both explored the taste of each other, each moment was perfect. Every sensation, every smell, every sound seemed amplified. It felt like you were floating in a bubble of bliss, forgetting about everything but each other.

Pulling away, you kept your eyes shut as you pressed your forehead against his, feeling his bangs brush against your eyelashes, a giddy smile finding its way to your features, “Were you serious when you said you give me more of your shirts?”

Eddie chuckled lightly, “If it means I get to kiss you again, then sure.” He mumbled against your lips as his left hand cupped your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin.

You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his nose before pulling away slightly, your eyes gazing into each other. "Can I have that other Metallica one? The one with the electric chair?" Excitement was clear in your voice as Eddie chuckled, nodding his head, you grinned widely, your eyes sparkling with happiness. 

"Look at you…” He muttered, seeing your smile before answering your question, “But, of course." He winked, causing your smile to widen as he leaned forward, his mouth barely grazing over yours, "Anything for you." He murmured before closing the distance between the two of you once again.

~~~

"Are you sure about this, babe?" Eddie asked, his hands holding the steering wheel tightly, driving his van in the next town over from Hawkins. "I mean, you don't have to do this just to piss off your mom." 

"I'm not just doing this," You shrugged a shoulder, glancing over at him from the passenger seat, "Don’t you remember me telling you how much I’ve wanted one when we first met?”

"Do I remember?" Eddie asked himself, a small grin growing on his face as he glanced over at you, your eyes meeting his before he turned back to the road, "The way you looked at me when you saw my tattoos... How your eyes lit up, and the smile that crossed your face... The way your lips parted... The way they looked so soft..." Eddie trailed off, "Yeah, no... I don't think I remember." Eddie shook his head as you felt your cheeks burn from his words, making you shake your own head, biting your lip. Oh, how he teased you...

Watching as the many trees passed by, you hummed before continuing, "It sounds like you weren't even paying attention." You answered, amused, resting your elbow on the van's door armrest, holding your head up by the palm of your hand. 

Eddie smirked, "Maybe I was too caught up in you to listen to what you were saying," He countered, raising an eyebrow as he glanced over at you for a brief moment, watching as you rolled your eyes, amused.

"If that's true then I doubt you've been listening to anything I have been saying. I swear I have to snap you out of staring at me every five seconds, Eds." You laughed lightly, your eyes falling back on the window as you continued humming under your breath.

"Not my fault you're so beautiful that I can't take my eyes off you, baby." He muttered flirtatiously.

"Shut up," You giggled, throwing your head back against the van's headrest, "You’re making me blush!"

Eddie didn't say another word, a large grin on his face as he pulled up to the familiar tattoo parlor. 

As you unbuckled yourself from the passenger seat, Eddie quickly got out and rounded around the front of the van. Opening the passenger side door, Eddie dipped into a low bow, stretching his free hand out to the side as he gave you a grin, "My lady," He spoke in a rather posh voice.

Placing a hand on your chest, you placed your free hand on top of his as you batted your eyelashes mockingly, pretending to gasp, "Oh, my," You spoke, mimicking him, "What a gentleman." You said as you stepped out of the van.

"Only for you." Eddie answered back, your hand staying in his as the both of you began to walk to the front, glass door.

As you both walked a couple of feet, you stepped up onto one of the curb stops, walking carefully so as not to fall; Eddie's hand in yours, watching you as you stepped toe to toe on the cement block. "What are you thinking of getting?" Eddie then asked, as your eyes stared down at your feet.

"I think I'll keep that as a surprise until this artist friend of yours asks..." You muttered with a small smile, coming to the end of the curb stop, stepping off, and looking up at Eddie as he grabbed the door handle of the parlor door.

"Well then," Eddie opened the door, the bell above it jingling, "I'm excited to find out what it is." Entering the parlor, Eddie waved at the man behind the counter. The man was tall, in his late twenties you assumed, and had a remarkable similarity to Kurt Russell from that 'Escape From New York' movie. "Hey! Chris!" Eddie exclaimed as this 'Chris' just gave Eddie a grin, pressing his palms against the counter.

"Hello, Eddie. Brought a friend, I see." He turned his bluey gaze to you, offering his hand as the two of you stopped before the counter, "Hey, name's Christopher, but you can call me 'Chris,' He spoke as you shook his hand, "I can only assume either of you came to get a tattoo. Unless you missed me." He joked, making Eddie huff, his eyes rolling as he flopped his arm over your shoulder. 

"You assumed correct, Chris," Eddie spoke, pulling you into his side, "My lovely girlfriend wants a tattoo."

Christopher hummed, nodding his head, "Well, you came to the right place." He clapped his hands together once before pressing them back against the counter before him, his eyes turning back to you, "What did you have in mind? Flowers, some sort of animal, a quote? I can do practically anything."

You just smiled, your mind already picturing the tattoo image that you had in mind. "I want bats." You answered simply, the side of your face burning as Eddie's head turned swiftly to stare at you wide, surprised - and in awe - eyes. 

Chris's grin curled into a mischievous one as he quickly glanced at Eddie and back to you, "Bats... Hmm, yeah, I can do that. Let me quickly come up with a sketch." He then spoke, sitting down in the chair behind the counter and pulling out a small sketch pad and pencil.

Eddie just continued staring at you, "Bats..." He muttered softly, "You want bats?" His question was filled with disbelief.

You shrugged a shoulder, your hand coming up to hold his hand from your shoulder, "I like bats."

"You like my bats," He whispered proudly, emphasizing on the third word as you smiled coyly.

"I love your bats," You repeated teasingly, squeezing his hand in yours before releasing it to reach up and push a strand of hair behind his ear, "I feel like you should've seen this coming."

Eddie just huffed, raising his free hand to grab yours from his hair, cupping your hand to his cheek; continuing to stare at you adoringly as he nuzzled his cheek into your palm. "I thought you were going to get something from that movie you like or something..."

"Hmm," You hummed, your thumb brushing against the soft skin of the apple of his cheek, your eyes drifting, spotting the little freckles that were dotted there, "That might be a good second tattoo idea."

"You really got the key to my heart, babe," Eddie spoke, his voice sounding full of what you could only think was a deep sense of love as his warm brown orbs gazed into yours, causing you to let out a small giggle, your thumb rubbing circles around his cheek.

"And you got mine, Eds." You mumbled as his eyes dropped to your lips, just a mere breath away until Christopher popped his head up from his sketch pad.

"Sorry to interrupt," He grinned, his mischievous eyes gleaming, standing from his chair as the two of you pulled away from each other slightly; Eddi's arms still wrapped around your shoulders. "What do you think of this?" Chris then asked, showing you the sketch he had gone, and immediately, your eyes widened, as did your smile.

"It's perfect!" You cheered, feeling a rush of excitement run through you as you stared down at the sketch. It was of Eddie's bats, drawn the same, but flying in a slightly different pattern; more horizontal. It was perfect and you couldn't wait for the masterpiece to be permanently printed onto your skin.

Chris pulled the sketchbook back, "Great, you two lovebirds can follow me to the chair." He spoke, as he led you and Eddie to his station.

As you walked, you took that time to look around the parlor, seeing the walls covered in posters and framed art depicting different types of tattoos. The room was bright, but not blinding and everything was done in black, white, and gray tones. Taking a seat on the later chair, Chris slid over another wheely chair, the same as his, for Eddie to sit on as he gathered his needed materials from a separate room. 

Eddie held your hand as you laid your arm on the chair's armrest, gently squeezing your hand as you continued to look around the room at all the different tattoo designs. "Are you excited?" He asked, watching as your eyes flickered from design to design, a smile still on your face.

"So excited. But I'm still nervous. I'm trying not to think about the needle."

"Hmm, yeah," He hummed, following your line of sight, "I'll be here the whole time. You know that you can take a break at any time. Just let him know."

"I know," You nodded, looking over at him, "But I can do this. I mean, I've been waiting for this ever since I was twelve."

"I know," Eddie mimicked you softly as Chris came back over with the tattoo gun and inks needed. 

Setting the items down on the table, Chris grabbed some gloves, sliding them on, "Alright, where did you plan to have it?"

"Right here," You gestured to just below your collarbone, and Chris nodded as he got the items ready on the tin tray beside him, organizing them.

"Alright, I just want to let you know that it might be painful, or it might not. Some people say it just feels like someone scratching the same spot over and over, and some don’t, so I just wanted to warn you about that." He spoke, opening the ink bottles and pouring a couple of drops into a small, plastic cup, "I try and make this as pleasant of an experience as possible for everyone who comes in. So if you need a break, you can take it. If you need a snack, I got a mini fridge, and if you need me to change the radio station, I bet Eddie will go and change it for you." He finished, before twisting his wrist, warming it up. "Are you ready to begin?" 

You nodded, "Yeah."

~~~

The tattoo was perfect. You thought it was gorgeous. And when Eddie first saw it after Chris was done, his first word was, ‘Wicked.’

Seven little bats decorated your soft skin, and even though you had gone through a lot of pain to get them, it was incredibly worth it. Chris and Eddie were right, and it did hurt, but not as much as you thought it was going to hurt. Your mother, after you had told her of your wish to one day get a tattoo and tattoos in general. She said that it was a way of signing your soul over to the devil. That was the reason your mother moved you away to Hawkins, your mother found out that a friend of yours had a tattoo. But nothing she said really deterred you from wanting a tattoo. 

And four months later, you sat in your room with Eddie, a movie randomly playing on your small television across your bed, whilst you read a book and Eddie's head leaned on your shoulder. He was staring at the TV, not fully paying attention to it as he played with the fraying hem of your shirt... That you stole from him. 

You continued to read, your book taking you to a far-off world with elves, wizards, and hobbits. Eddie had recommended the 'Lord Of The Rings' series, letting you borrow his set, and you couldn't have been happier. You were in the second book, almost near the end; you couldn't put it down. Even though it was long, and the author really liked to describe anything and everything, you enjoyed how easily you seemed to fall into the fantasy world of Middle Earth.

Sighing, Eddie scooted impossibly closer to you, growing a bit bored. His hands were tingling slightly with the want and need to do something, anything. He wished he had his baby with him. His other baby. While you were reading, he could've been practicing a few songs, but his visit to your house for the first time was not planned.

You had told him that your mother was going out to play Scrabble with a few friends for the night, and that she wouldn't get back until pretty late. So, you took Eddie to your place. You were excited to finally show Eddie your room. Even though it wasn't anything like his, Eddie still loved it. 

When he walked in, he knew it was your room. Your desk was pushed off to the side, near the window. Folders, notebooks, and other various items were neatly placed there. The shelves that contained your many, many books were on the other wall, next to your closet door. The bed looked comfortable too; with a plush, fuzzy faux-fur blanket that covered your gray sheets, accompanied with gray pillowcases on your pillows. 

Your room was nice, open, and bright. And it made Eddie feel calm; safe. 

Letting out a dramatic sigh this time, Eddie pushed himself up slightly, lifting and turning his head to press his nose into your shoulder, his eyes staring at what he could see of the side of your face with sad, puppy dog eyes. 

"Bored?" You asked softly, thumbing the page over. 

Eddie pouted, "Yeah… How could you tell?"

"This is the ninth time you sighed in... Oh, I don't know... Ten minutes." You spoke glancing at the circular clock on the wall and down at him before back at your book. "Just let me get done with this chapter and I'm all yours."

"Okay..," Eddie sighed, watching as you continued to read, his fingers returning to play with the hem of your shirt.

After about five minutes, or what felt like hours for Eddie, he started to become restless again. Shaking his socked left foot side to side from where it lay on your bed, he curled his fingers around your arm, his nose occasionally rubbing your shoulder as he started to hum the tune of 'Fade To Black.' Shuffling up again, the slight movement caused his hands to move down on your long-sleeved shirt; unintentionally pulling the collar of your shirt down a little. 

Immediately, Eddie's eyes were glued to the bit of black ink poking out from beneath the stretched collar of your shirt. His finger moved upwards, lightly tracing the outline of what he could see of the bat, his pout quickly turning into a small grin. Unable to really help himself, Eddie felt himself being drawn towards it. As if it was calling out to him. Before getting it, you had told Eddie millions of times how much you loved his tattoos, all of them, but especially his bats. 

He probably had a small inkling - or suspicion - that you had plans to get something similar, but he never gave it a second thought, until now. You loved his tattoo so much that you got one like his permanently tattooed onto your skin. You loved him so much that you got something that reminded you of him... Permanently tattooed onto your perfect skin, and somehow he could barely breathe.

Letting out a shallow breath, Eddie leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the top of the bat's wing, what he could see just peeking out from the collar of your shirt. It was enough of a distraction, for him to not notice when your hand paused in the air, millimeters away from flipping to the next page. Pressing his warm face into the equally warm skin of the crook of your neck, Eddie sighed; finally feeling the fast beating of your heart against his cheek.

"You're killing me, Eddie." You huffed, shutting your book and setting it on the bedside table before looking over at what you could see of Eddie; his face still dug into your shoulder. "You're acting way too cute." You chuckled, reaching up to run a hand through his hair, breaking away small knots.

His nose bumped against yours as he raised his face from your shoulder, an innocent smile on his face, "What do you mean? I'm always cute."

"That's true," You agreed, moving forward and pressing a sweet, short kiss to his lips. "Now," You pulled away slowly, placing a small amount of space between the two of you, "What do you want to do? Since you're so bored."

"Well," He grinned mischievously, "I have a few ideas."

Tilting your head to the side slightly, "Really?" You questioned with a raised eyebrow, feeling your stomach twist as his eyes glanced down at your awaiting lips for a moment, "Care to share?"

"Mmhm." Eddie hummed, his hand raising to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip, before cupping the back of your neck, bringing your face ever closer to his; allowing his gaze to drift down and down until his eyes landed on your mouth once more.

Before either of you could continue, a sudden knock on the bedroom door brought both of you back to reality; your door opening and revealing your mother. She had come home early.

Your eyes widened as you sat bolt upright in bed. Eddie shot up beside you, his eyes wide as well, as your mother's jaw dropped, her eyes widening in shock before they turned into eyes of pure anger.

"Y/N!" She yelled, making you flinch as she turned her eyes to Eddie, "And you! Devil boy! Out of my house, you spawn of Satan!" 

Eddie hopped up from your bed, grabbed his shoes, and hastily slipped them on. You stood up from the bed as well, your mother's eyes stared at him like a hawk, all the while Eddie couldn't help but grin. You moved over to the window, pushing the pane up as Eddie almost strutted over. 

Despite what was happening, you couldn’t help but admire him.

Shrugging on his leather jacket, he gave you a quick kiss on the cheek, making your worried expression turn into a loving smile. "Bye, babe."

"Bye, Eds." You breathed deeply as your mother rushed over.

"No! No! Get out, Devil boy! Out!" He waved a pointy finger as Eddie slipped out of your window, landing on the lower side roof and down to the ground. Once he was out of sight, your mother turned to you; a sliver of fear rolled down your spine as her eyes glared daggers at you, her arms crossed. "And you, young lady, are in very big trouble." She seethed, "I told you- I forbade you from ever speaking to that boy again! And you have the nerve- the- the audacity to bring him into my home! To have him in your room! You- you- you-" She began, stuttering over her words angrily, her hand waving in the air by her face; her cheeks were red. As she continued to stutter, her eyes glanced down, seeing the hint of black against your skin. She paused, frozen before she reached out and pulled the collar of your shirt slightly, just enough to see one of the bats that was etched onto your skin peeking out from under your shirt. "Is that..." She raised her free hand, licking her thumb before rubbing the bat; whatever it was, it didn't fade, or spear... It didn't come off. She pulled away, "You... That devil child has infected you!" She cried angrily.

You swallowed nervously as she continued to talk, your mind running over every possible way you could get out of this emotionally and mentally unscathed, "Mom. I am an adult. I can get a tattoo-"

Her eyes flashed dangerously, "Stop right there. Don't you dare say another word." She growled, "He has brainwashed you. He took you and corrupted your mind, and you will pay dearly for it." 

You watched as your mother stalked away, "Mom..." You spoke, but she ignored you, reaching for your phone sitting on your bedside table, "Mom!" You cried out, watching as she reached for the cord of your phone and yanked it straight out of the wall.

Jaw dropped, and you continued to watch as she collected your phone into her arms before turning to you, "You will not get your phone back until I deem it suitable. I may regret this, but I will give you one last chance. I rather like this town. I would be upset to leave it so soon." She spoke before leaving your room, shutting your door behind her. 

Huffing out a breath, you felt your eyes burn. The tears threatened to spill from their confines as you turned towards your bed, dropping yourself onto it, letting the tears finally fall.

Eddie stood in front of the bathroom mirror, his hands gripping the counter edge tightly as he stared down at the counter itself. He wanted to call you, see how you were doing, and cheer you up like he always knew how to, but he knew that it would be too risky.

So, he stood, his fingers tapping the underside of the counter as he thought. He wished things were different, and he wished that your mother didn't hate him. But everyone hated him, and he wished that he was used to it. But you didn't hate him. Not even close. He needed you, he needed your support and encouragement, he needed your love and warmth; just as much as you needed him.

He sighed, sliding down onto the floor, and leaning his back against the bathtub; the cold surface chilling his back. Closing his eyes, he tilted his head back against the rim of the tub, letting out a sigh. 

~~~

Your mother watched you like a hawk for the next couple of weeks. Everywhere you went with her, she was close beside. And she followed you wherever you went; store, arcade, everywhere. Everyone you spoke to, she would know about. It was like she was everywhere. But, she wasn't.

She couldn't go to the high school, no matter how much she tried to convince the Principal to let her. 'My daughter is in danger,' she would plead, only for the Principal to reply with, 'There is nothing to worry about.' Nothing to worry about? Your mother was fuming. You wondered how she would’ve done it either way, since she had a job and all.

And so, the only time you could see Eddie was during the school day, which was less time than you liked. You didn't share any of the same periods, and could only see him during the couple of minutes before class, during the half an hour lunch, and the few minutes after school before you had to walk home. Your mother even forced you to quit your 'Drama Club,' which was actually the Hellfire Club.

Sitting on the picnic bench out in the woods, the same bench you and Eddie shared your first kiss - and many more - you leaned against Eddie's shoulder. Lunch had started less than ten minutes ago, Eddie had eaten some of the fries and drank his chocolate milk, but you had hardly touched yours at all. You hadn't touched anything all morning; you simply pushed the plate of mush around. You could feel Eddie's curious glances burning into the side of your face as he looked down.

"You gotta eat, baby." He moved his arm, wrapping it behind you, his hand rubbing up and down on your arm, "Come on, take a bite." He cooed softly, leaning down a little bit so that his nose brushed against your cheek. You shook your head quickly, pushing your plate of untouched food away from you, "Y/N." His voice came out in barely more than a whisper.

Taking a deep breath, you opened your mouth to speak, "I will for you." You muttered, reaching out and grabbing the sweet roll from your tray, "Only for you."

"That's my girl." Eddie brought you closer to his side, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I know life is pretty shitty right now, but we can get through this. I promise you, once we graduate, we will get out of this town."

You humphed softly, a small smile growing on your lips, "If you graduate," You teased lightly, making Eddie gasp in faux offense; his free hand coming up to his chest.

"If I graduate? Baby, 86' is my year." He winked, causing you to giggle a little, making his smile grow bigger. You rested your head back against his shoulder, the two of you contentedly eating your food.

After a moment, you paused, "What if we left now..?" You shook your head on his shoulder as Eddie paused his own eating, "Nevermind. Silly question."

"Not silly at all." Eddie spoke, the both of you being brought back to the night you met at that party, "Not silly at all." He repeated, thoughtfully.

~~~

Your mother came home from work on an early Wednesday evening, dropping her purse and keys down on the table near the door as she slipped off her heels. "Y/N! Dear, I'm home!" She called out, checking in the living room, but not finding you there. Walking to the kitchen, passing the dining room, she called out again, "Did you take the beef out like I asked?" Entering the kitchen, the beef was not out on the kitchen counter, and the dishes in the sink were unfinished. Letting out a deep, irritated sigh, she moved to the stairs, placing her hand on the banister, "Y/N!?" With no answer again, she quickly made her way up the stairs, entering the hall, and pushing your door open. 

She gasped, seeing your walls stripped of your posters, your shelves empty of your books, and your bed coverings missing from your bed. Rushing to your closet, she slammed it open, finding empty hammers in your empty closet before doing the same with your dresser; empty. She ran a hand through her hair, her body turning, and her eyes surveying the room with haste. Where were you? Where did you go? Were you with that boy? Damn...

Hearing the sound of a van pulling into the driveway, and a door opening, she ran to your open bedroom window that faced the street, her hands held onto the windowsill with a death-like grip, her eyes wide with anger and shock as you hopped out of the van; Eddie's van. Speaking of the Devil boy, he came around from the other side of the van, his arm looping over your shoulders. You just stared up at your mother with a triumphant grin, crossing your arms, and jutting out your hip.

Your mother stood stunned and speechless as she watched you uncross your arms, you then placed them to the side of your head, your pointer fingers pointed up; mimicking horns as you stuck out your tongue at her. Eddie watched you, a proud grin on his face - flattered - admiring you proudly.

Her expression quickly changed, becoming filled with fury, while Eddie gave your mother a grin, waving his hand. "Goodbye, Mrs. L/N!"

Your mother watched as you and Eddie then started to get back in the van, and finally, she spoke, "Y/N! Get back here this instant! If you get in that van, you are no longer my daughter!" She exclaimed angrily but only watched as the van's engine started up and the two of you sped away down the street.

You laughed in the passenger seat, throwing your head back against the headrest, Eddie glancing over at you with a smile; laughing along with you, happy to see you so happy.

You sighed as you calmed down, feeling adrenaline rush throughout your veins as you ran a hand through your hair before you turned to look at Eddie; resting your elbow on the middle console, palm resting on your cheek.

"So," You began, your smile never dwindling as you gazed up at Eddie, "Where are we going to go?" You asked, excitement filling up your heart.

Eddie shrugged, glancing over at you with a matching grin, having a double take when he saw your smile. You looked beautiful… As always. The setting sun was shining on you, bathing you in the most perfect light. His smile softened, "Look at you..." He muttered, "You're all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed." He finished before he reached over the center console, and grabbed your other hand in his. Bringing it to your lips, he pressed a gentle, yet loving kiss to the top of your knuckles, keeping his eyes on the road.

"Look at me..." You replied, your voice taking a soft tone, a warm smile playing on your lips. 

---

Main Masterlist | Stranger Things Masterlist

[scarlett-or-wtv]

Stupid Letters, Stupid Flowers.

A Chris Sturniolo X Reader Fanfiction

In which: Chris broke up with y/n over something stupid. Months later, she’s cleaning out her closet to move when she finds a shoebox filled with things he had given her over the years. Stupid Letters, Stupid Flowers.

Warnings: angst, crying

A/N: I asked you guys if I should write this on a poll and you said yes so here it is, Stupid Letters, Stupid Flowers.

I was honestly glad about moving. New state, new start. Thats what I told myself.

My floor was riddled with random items, boxes stacked in the corner as I packed my room. I was gonna miss my room, it was my comfort place after all.

I picked through the last items in my closet, my clothes already packed away into various suitcases and boxes.

My eyes landed on a shoebox in the back corner. I looked at it confused for a second before getting onto my tippy toes to grab it. I slid it off the shelf and and almost fell trying to catch it. The box fell to the floor, the lid sliding partially off.

My heart sank as I saw what was under the lid. Of course. I had forgotten all about that. I hesitantly picked up the box before carrying it over to my bed. I sat down and took the lid completely off. I sifted through the contents, nothing but Stupid Letters and Stupid Flowers. Full of broken promises.

A tear fell from my cheek, landing on one of said letters, the words at the bottom of the paper caught my eye. “Ill love you, always and forever.” A lie, of course. Because Chris had broken up with me for the stupidest of reasons.

Rain poured over me as I knocked on his door, when he finally answered, he didn’t look happy to see me.

“Im sorry. Im so sorry. My car broke down on the way and my phone died and I couldn’t text you. Please let me make it up to you.” I rambled desperately.

“Its our 3 year anniversary and you didn’t even show up.” He said angrily. His tone made me shiver more then the cold rain.

“I had to walk all the way here. Im sorry I really tried to be here on time.” I apologized again.

“Just go home. Its done, we’re done.” He muttered. My heart sank.

“Don’t say that. I really am sorry, okay? Just let me fix it.” I begged as a tear on my cheek mixed with the rain.

“No. Just go home y/n.” He repeated.

“Please don’t do this. I love you.” I sobbed out my words as I pleaded with him.

“Go.” He said before shutting the door in my face.

It wasn’t until later that I found out the real reason he had broken up with me, someone new. He was just looking for any excuse to break up with me so he could be with her, what was her name again? Oh right, Hannah.

If she wasn’t absolutely gorgeous I would say it was his loss, unfortunately, she’s much prettier than me. Her long straight brown hair and her perfect body, perfect teeth, she was simply, perfect. In a way I could never be.

He wanted her, I should accept that. But then again, if he really loved me those 3 years, he wouldn’t have replaced me.

I walked over to my desk again and pulled out the drawer. I picked up the small velvet box that rested in the very back. My promise ring, yet another lie. I opened up the box and watched as the ring sparkled in the faint light that crept through the blinds of my window.

I walked back over to the shoebox and stuck it inside, letting out a sigh as I lifted the it up and carried it downstairs and out to my car.

I got into the driver seat and placed it in the seat next to me before starting the engine. I pulled out my phone and clicked on his contact, each dial tone made me more nervous. Then he picked it up.

“Hello?” He questioned, his words falling through the speaker of the phone in my hand.

“I uh… have some of your stuff. My plane leaves tomorrow, can I bring it by your house?” I asked nervously.

I heard him sigh through the phone. “Yeah sure.” He said sounding a little annoyed.

“Okay, sorry I just wanted to ask first. I know you don’t wanna see me.” The last part came out as a whisper.

“Just come over y/n.” He said.

“Be there in 10. Bye.” I said before hanging up. Why do I feel like crying right now? We talked for 30 seconds and I wanna cry. Pathetic.

After a while I pulled up to his house, parking across the street. I slowly and hesitantly stepped onto his porch. My hand shook as I pressed the doorbell with my free hand.

After what felt like eternity the door opened, it was Matt. He gave me a confused look.

“Chris said I could come drop of the last of his things.” I explained looking at the box then back at him.

“Okay.” He said stepping aside and letting me walk in. He closed the door behind us and I walked down the stairs. I stood outside of his room for a moment before clenching my eyes shut and knocking, as if the simple action was deadly.

“Come in.” He said from inside, i slowly turned the handle, stepping inside. I nervously met his eyes, my mouth suddenly going dry.

“Here.” I said, my hands shaking as I extended the box to him. He picked it up with a questioning look before setting it down on the bed and opening it. I watched as his expression dropped, his eyes raking over the contents of the box. Then his gaze landed on the small velvet box under a few letters.

He picked it up, opening it with an expression as if he hoped it wasn’t what he thought.

“You don’t wanna keep it?” He asked quietly, his gaze turning to me.

“Why would I?” I whispered with a shrug. “Give it to Hannah, im sure she’d love it.” I said with a sad smile.

“Y/n. I broke up with Hannah weeks ago.” He whispered.

“Oh, im sorry I didn’t know.” I muttered looking at my feet. I really didn’t know, if I did, honestly, I would have celebrated.

“Its okay. You didn’t know. Thanks for the stuff.” He said looking back down and sifting through the letters. “Maybe Ill send you a new letter when you get settled in at your new house.” He said with a sad smile.

“Maybe.” I whispered, my expression matching his. He suddenly stepped toward me, his movements cautious. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me into a hug.

“Ill miss you. Even if you think I wont.” He muttered into my hair. I found myself melting into his touch, no matter how hard I tried to resist it.

“I think I should go.” I say pulling away from him. “I have to finish packing.” I explained, not meeting his gaze.

“Okay.” He nodded understandingly. “Bye y/n.”

“Bye Chris.”

So I left. The next day I would be on a plane, and I those letters and flowers would all be a distant memory of what used to be, and it wouldn’t be till I was going through airport security that I would find that Chris had slipped the ring into my purse during that hug. Of course.

A/N: Do yall fw this? Idk i lowk rushed it and wrote it in like 30 minutes? Lmk!!

[jackmanbj]

pinkie

summary: you and urban have been together for 3 months, you ask him to pay for your nails but only in one condition.

you- urby babyy!

urby🎈- yes baby?

you- you know i love you so, so, so, so much right?

urby🎈- what do you need babe?

you- can you please pay for my nails? ill give you head after

urby🎈- ill pay for them only if you get the base the color of my tip😂

you- jesus you get on my damn nerves, send me a picture of the tip so i get the exact color wyatt.

urby🎈- love you more.

‘urby🎈 send one attachment’

you took the picture and zoomed in making it unnoticeable on what it was and headed into the nail techs house.

you went into your nail techs house and ran into her room jumping on her bed and cuddling into her.

“bitchh!”

“girl your smushing me!!” she wheezed out as you slid off her.

“ANYWAYS!” “what style you getting?”

“ok uhmm..my man told me he’d pay for my nails IF i get his tip color..”

“AHHH BTICH YOU DOING IT??”

“uhm of course. so the base is going to be the tip color, and on top of the base i want pink frenchies, then i want flowers no french on my thumb, middle and index.”

“well gotdamn, but alright lets go.”

you both got up and started making your ways into the room she does nails at.

you and your nail tech are very close, so you both sat down while she did your nails and just talked about any and everything, your boyfriends and mostly people who you both didnt like.

half way through your nail set urban called you.

your nail tech answered and put it on speaker for you.

“urban dont say anything embarrassing, your on speaker.”

“babe you tell your nail tech everything, ill be surprised if she doesn’t know how big my dick is at this point.”

“I DO!” kenya (the nail tech name) yelling into the phone.

“BABE WHY!”

“oopise!”

you quickly but carefully hung up on urban while you and kenya laughed together.

after about 30 minutes urban knew it was about time to pick you up being as thorough you had to catch an uber because he was busy.

urban picked you up and paid kenya as you hugged her goodbye.

urban got into the car after you and immediately asked to see your nails.

you showed him as he grinned ear to ear noticing it was the exact color match and his initial was on your ring finger.

“baby we gotta put these nails to good use huh?” you looked down at your nails before looking back at urban.

“only if you pay for my new wig install, AND, you have to pick me up and bring me ‘cause the uber felt weird!”

“fine, mamas you know you’re spoiled?”

“im not!” “you are babes, you dont like to drive, you do pay for nothing, you dont work, AND YOUR A PILLOW PRINCESS!!”

“one i dont even know how to drive! two, you never let me pay! three, you work i take care of the house. plus you dont want me to have to work. AND IM NOT A PILLOW PRINCESS FOR THE LAST TIME WYATT!!!”

“ok baby whatever you say.”

urban kissed your cheek and started driving.

you on the other hand opened up your passenger seat had your name in pink cursive with glider in it.

“urban, this is so cute! your going to make me cry..”

“glad you like it ma, i got more surprises at home, just wait.”

[bestlittlebunny]

News headline reads, new experimental medical treatments result in Female/Female breeding.

She is my best friend, but I want her as more, pregnancy entrapment is wrong...I keep telling myself that as I sign the authorization forms for the treatment.

That evening, I get you very intoxicated, we make love for hours. Sure enough in a few weeks I'm gazing at a positive test......

(Oooh. I love this prompt. Okay, here goes.) I wake up with a mild pressure deep inside and rub it away as I sit up in bed. You've already been gone long enough for your side of the bed to have gone cold. We were only best friends, and we lived in a two bedroom apartment together, but most of the time we just slept together because we were too lazy to move to our respective rooms by the time we got tired. Or, at least that's what we told each other out loud. For me, I enjoyed your company. Your warmth. Your smell. Your taste. There were several instances where one, or both, of us got tipsy and our inhibitions wavered. I'll never forget the taste of you on my tongue as it slid between your soft pink slit, lapping up whatever moistness you produced for me. I delighted in you. As I recall the sensations, I begin to touch myself, aching for another taste.

I shook my head, snapping out of it. I had to get up, had to get to work. Besides, I knew you didn't feel the same. I just was glad to have a piece of you, even for a moment. I collected my outfit for the day and my towel from the night before and headed for the bathroom. Just as I did any other day, I heard the shower running and barged right in, only to see you jump and quickly hide something behind your back. Your cheeks bright red, eyes watery, you quickly wiped away a tear that had betrayed you and then faked a smile. "Hi! Good morning! Uhm... I was just about to get in the shower. Do you, uh, do you want to go first?" You chirped.

I looked at you inquisitively, "Are you okay? What's behind your back?"

You tense, refusing to drop your smile, "No, no. I'm okay. It's nothing. Really."

I can see the fear in your eyes. I put my pile of fabric down on the counter and walk slowly up to you, pulling you into a tight hug, "I'm here. You're safe." I stroke your hair as I hold you near. I feel you begin to tremble, soft whimpers turning into full sobs. I just hold you tighter as you cry, letting you process what you need to. After a few minutes pass I feel you slowly relax and take a deep breath. You step away from me, hand still behind your back, and slowly sit on the edge of the toilet, "I... I need to tell you something." You barely speak above a whisper.

I kneel in front of you and gently grab your elbow, encouraging your hand to come out from hiding. As it presents it's secret, I see the two pink lines almost instantly. The emotions that flood through my mind are overwhelming: Heartbroken, angry if anybody hurt you, pity for myself, guilt... my mind spins. But I still it long enough to cup your cheek in my hand and softly smile. "It's going to be alright. You tell me what you need from me. I'm here. Can I ask... who's it is?" As far as I knew, you hadn't been seeing anyone. And I would wring anybody's necks who took advantage of you.

You hesitate before steeling yourself and standing up, turning away from me. "It's yours." You finally say.

A wave of nausea rushes over me and I throw myself against the toilet as I love whatever remained of dinner the night before. I feel you pull my hair away from my face and rub my back. When it passes, I sit back on my heels, "Mine?" I turn to you.

"I didn't think the announcement would make you physically ill. I'm sorry." "No, no. Oh my gosh... Oh my gosh! No." I keep repeating for a moment as thoughts swirl around in my head. I stand up and walk out of the bathroom, leaving you frozen. When I return, I'm holding my own test and hand it to you. "I think we need to have a talk. We, well, we're going to have a lot of planning to do. I'm sorry. I should have told you. I should have talked to you about it, first I--"

You cut me off "No, I'm sorry! I know entrapment is wrong but I--"

At the same time we both shout "I love you!" and freeze. Our eyes lock onto one another and tears well up instantly.

"You do?" I whisper as I choke down sobs. You nod, "You're all I've ever wanted and I thought... well..."

I lifted your chin with my finger, pulling you close to me and kissing you passionately, "We both thought the same, apparently." I giggled and kissed you, again, this time pressing my hand against your belly to let you know I understood... [END]

Should I continue this one??

[highonmarvel]

Restless Heart [2] | Painkiller

♩Steve Kemp

You thought you were dark, and you are, but the charming surgeon you’re becoming addicted to is testing the extents of your morality.

} previous chapter: Tricks

content warning: this is a dark fic, and this series explores taboo topics such as abuse and assault, abduction, deteriorating mental health and mental illness, graphic depictions of gore. Think of a trigger warning: it applies to my work.

addition content warnings here!

You’re almost glad you can’t move too much without pain shooting across your back because you’re scared to see what he’s done to you. Sure, he said he didn’t take much, but that makes you angrier, like he’s expecting you to be grateful only some of you was stolen—in his eyes, he was merciful, but you know once the time comes, you’ll be anything but. In any case, you have a suspicion he didn’t give you stronger painkillers in order to make up for his supposed graciousness: how kind of him to save you from one pain and leave you with another.

You must have been out for a while because you don’t expect Steve to be back so soon. You hear the keypad accept the electronic tag and the wooden cell door slides open.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks, voice low but if you didn’t know any better, you’d say there was an authenticity to his concern, if not for your well-being, more so for his curiosity.

Mustering your very little strength, you manage to worm your arms up from your sides to lay them on top of your pillow and rest your chin on your tender forearms. Your eyes sting with tears at the strain on your lower back, but you manage to stop the tears by letting out a harsh puff of breath as you drop your head and let your eyelids flutter closed.

“You’re an asshole,” you retort, slightly breathless, and he shifts to lean against the doorway, changing the shadows cast in your room—your jail—ever so slightly. You can feel his eyes on you as he speaks, very deliberately and carefully.

“You can’t trick me, alright?”

You raise your head to look over at him, your eyebrows knitted together displaying annoyance etched into your face. You try to read him, but you can’t; his tone is intentional, but you can’t tell his intentions.

“All right,” you respond, cooling your expression to match his stoicism. You both know he has the upperhand physically, but you think you can almost tell he’s not so sure it’ll be as easy for him to anticipate your intelligence, or he’s at least trying to get the idea out of your head before you try. At best, you’ll be irritating; at worst, you’ll be his killer, in one way or another.

“Good.” He gives a tight-lipped smile and leaves, and you swear he’s slammed the gate shut just a little harder than usual to really drill his cryptic message into your head.

You hadn’t realised how tense your muscles were until he’s left and you suddenly feel lighter, letting out an exasperated breath as you try to get as comfortable as you can and let yourself drift off to sleep.

♡

You wake up feeling only slightly better than whenever you fell asleep. Making a mental note to ask Steve for a clock (which you’ll doubt he’ll give to you—not yet, anyway), you place your hands under your shoulders and try to raise yourself up. A small strangled cry leaves your throat and echoes off the corridors. You bite your lip as your left elbow hits the ground painfully, but you try to ignore the shooting pain across your nerves in favour of propping yourself up enough for your other hand to steady you against the jagged brick wall.

You choke on a grunt as you slide your leg up against the cold sheets to plant your knee into the thin mattress and raise your entire upper body off the floor. Your right arm shakes as you rely on it for more support it can handle, but you just shut your eyes and pray you don’t slip and fall onto your ass, because you’re not sure if the pain from that would actually kill you.

You don’t really manage to stand straight up, back pain still hindering you, but with one hand bracing your lower back, you’re somehow able to make it to the toilet (it’s only a few metres away but that seems like a lot when you’re dealing with so much). Just as you finish up and are back to standing over the mattress, leaning against the wall, trying to figure out how to lie down again in a “comfortable” position without breaking out into sobs, a shrill scream pierces your eardrums and your hand slips. You gasp and brace for impact but thankfully your shoulder hits the wall instead, barely holding you up.

If you were smarter (or at least had more survival instinct than in this very moment) you would have figured out how to lay down before you actually fell, but the sounds of heavy footsteps coming your way and cries getting louder makes you freeze in place, looking out through the wooden bars.

Steve comes into view, holding a woman over his shoulder who’s nothing more than a torso, one leg and a head at this point, really looking like a bag of meat. Steve’s annoyance with the woman thrashing about uselessly fades when he catches your eye, and time seems to run slower, almost like slow motion.

He has a slight smirk playing on his lips you could have missed if you weren’t as mesmerised by the scene, his grip on less than half the woman is firm and steady despite her pleas for help and mercy and her incessant wriggling trying to fall from his hold.

Breath rushes back to you as soon as he steps out of sight and you gasp for air, trying not to retch, holding back vomit with so much effort the corners of your eyes prickle with tears. The final yells of a dead woman die out as a door is shut, and the actuality of Steve’s capabilities hits you so hard you nearly fall onto your knees. Finally deciding it’s probably safer for your body to lie down again, you lower yourself back onto your stomach and let out a shaky breath.

The look he gave you… it wasn’t necessarily evil or calculating, it was like some kind of simple statement, like he was almost a little excited to really show you what he’s capable of, and demonstrate him making good on his promises. You want to cry but you don’t dare feel sorry for yourself when you’re still alive and your body is virtually intact (unless Steve lied, which you really don’t want to think about right now).

You swear you can hear a drill drilling into bone as you lay your head down and try to resist sleep in fear of nightmares. But can anything be a worse nightmare than this?

♡

You’re pretty sure it’s another day, but there’s really no way of knowing. At least you’re feeling better, as in, you’re not in pain anymore, and that almost scares you, that you’re possibly healing and once the scars have vanished, there’ll be no evidence of what was robbed from you. Anger starts to build as you consider escape. Even if you do kill him, or manage to get out of this place, that’ll never heal your literal flesh, or the… heartbreak you feel. Acutely. But you push that down as you push yourself up.

You hadn’t even heard Steve’s footsteps, lost in thought, until he slides the cell door open and you suddenly jolt at the realisation of just the position you’re in.

He seems a little upbeat, but maybe that’s because he enjoyed his morning jog or something (you remember him briefly telling you why he likes running—something about turning your mind off and being in concrete nature). Other than his relaxed body language, nothing about his expression gives any indication as to what he thought of last night. And why would it? This doesn’t mean anything to him, these lives don’t mean anything to him.

You suddenly feel sick at the thought and drop your head in disgust, taking a few deep breaths to ready yourself to look up at this monster who parades as a human being.

“Hi,” he greets, and reveals a tray of breakfast, and you can’t deny it does smell good, and you really want it.

“How’s my ass?” you ask, voice a little hoarse, and you see the remark coming before the corner of his lip even lifts up into a smirk.

“Amazing,” he answers, and you let out a disgusted noise.

He sighs as he crouches and sets the tray down, his tone now serious. “Give it a couple of days before you sit,” he says, ghosting his hand over the hospital gown you’re still in, almost teasing himself, it seems. “Then you’ll be alright. It’s nothing to cry over, honey.”

You hadn’t even realised your chest was rising and falling rapidly and tears were streaming down your face. Though maybe his words are meant to be empathetic, they almost feel impatient, or indicative of a much worse hell to come.

“Brought you painkillers,” he says as he puts three pills in your hand.

You consider them for a second as hot tears splash against the medicine and a little bit of the compact powder turns to a chunky liquid and gathers on your palm.

“Thank you,” you answer, and drop them onto the tray, next to your meal.

“Take them.”

You look up at him, mouth twisted in disgust and barely suppressing a snarl despite how hard you try to appear reasonable. “After I eat,” you reply in an even tone, even though you want to grit your teeth and spit at him.

Steve sits down and crosses his legs. He picks up the plastic water bottle beside your pillow (the paranoid fuck clearly isn’t going to risk even a shard of glass to his precious body) in one hand and scoops the pills up in the other.

“Seriously.” His voice has to have dropped an octave.

You narrow your eyes but to your surprise, he’s got more of a skeptical look on his face than you do, and you know exactly why.

Both of you know he isn’t going to poison you, what with his obsession with having the “perfect” meat, and even if he drugged you to sleep, you honestly might prefer it than having to sit and think about what’s happening around you, or flip through dumb gossip magazines.

He’s seen you do this before. The first night you spent with him, when you woke up, the stack of pills in your bedside drawer was missing. Neither of you said anything about it, his demeanour and his flirtatious ways didn’t even change, but when you were dancing later than evening and tripped, he caught you.

“You could have killed yourself!” he said in a breathless laugh, and for just a split second a grave expression flashed across his features, but you didn’t have time to process it before he pulled you back up to your feet and twirled you under his raised arm, holding your hand just a little tighter than usual.

At the time, you thought maybe he had real concern for you, if only a little, but knowing what you know now, he was probably only worried your suicide would fuck up his plans for your meat (you hate the way he calls your body meat), and you wouldn’t be fresh anymore.

You snatch the medicine from him and chuck it into your mouth, quickly holding out your hand for the bottle. The pills mixed with your saliva and water leave a bitter, powdery taste on your tongue, which you wash down with more water.

You raise your eyebrows and widen your eyes at him, as if to say “Happy now?” and he nods in response, standing with a groan as he stretches his arms above his head and arches his back. You suddenly realise how stiff you feel and how you’d kill for a bit of yoga right now.

And maybe you will.

♡

When Steve brought you lunch, he didn’t have much to say to you, and you (naturally) didn’t have much to say to him. You had taken a nap after the meds, but still Steve insisted you take another dose every few hours so you can skip the pain altogether instead of screaming when you need him.

You sulk as you pick at your food, suddenly feeling lonely when he leaves again.

Of course you hate him, but you can’t deny it’d be nice to have someone to talk to, even if the reason you’re feeling so alone is precisely because you’re near-isolated, and he’s the one who caused that. And you can’t help but remember how you used to talk—fun conversations over dinner, serious ones after sex, casual talks as you bustled around the kitchen, and everything in between.

It’s hard to eat with the plastic utensils—again, ever the paranoiac—but it’s harder to eat with this weird feeling in the pit of your stomach. Something between rage and sadness. You feel like a fucking idiot, but you don’t want to technically victimblame; this isn’t your fault, you know that, logically, but suddenly you feel dumb for ever thinking a person like you could have a normal, nice relationship. In retrospect, maybe you should have seen that anyone who could like you was just as insane, if not more, but you thought you were doing a good job at keeping that under wraps, and that he hadn’t really caught on to anything other than maybe depression—nothing violent, at least, or psychotic.

Now here you lay on your stomach, forcing down a few bites, before ultimately giving up and pushing your practically untouched meal away from you. Maybe if you hadn’t been so restrained, maybe if you’d shown him what you’re capable of, you wouldn’t be here, he wouldn’t have tried, you’d have been too difficult of a target. But something about that, something about that doesn’t feel really true. You can’t tell if he ever had feelings for you, but you know for certain there’s something deeper to your dynamic. So, maybe he would have done this regardless, maybe it’s some weird fate, more like a destiny to be punished, if there even is such a thing.

You can just feel something about this will end in a more intense way than either of you realise.

♩

[my beloved taglist: @cowboysnbugs, @buckys-wintersoldier, @cjand10]

[astarasstuff]

welcome arms- gojo satoru, geto suguru

suguru and satoru have been there for you since you first met them in highschool. that includes comforting you when your asshole boyfriend treats you like shit. when your boyfriend ends up cheating on you, they take a much different approach to comforting you this time...

word count: i cant be bothered right now LOL

contents: fem!reader, cheating (on reader by ex), like very light angst(breakups) fluffy!!! smut, soft dom! gojo and geto, multiple orgasms(r! receiving) fingering, pet names (pretty girl, pretty, love, sweetheart, princess, angel) eiffel tower (i think?) oral (geto receiving), creampie, unprotected sex (wrap before u tap as always!) aftercare! implied polyamory! i think that’s everything but if i missed something let me know! 18+ please, mdni!!!!

notes: holy shit first fanfic ever! im so nervous AH (this is code for give me some grace if its bad and DONT BE MEAN😣) anyways these two are always constantly on my mind 4ever.

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to say that satoru and suguru were upset when you knocked on their dorm door, tears streaming down that pretty little face of yours, wouldn't be quite the truth. it was about 2 o'clock in the morning, when satorus phone started ringing on his nightstand, the contact 'pretty girl' illuminating his screen. you'd given him shit for that name, detailing how your shithead boyfriend would freak if he saw it- satoru didn't budge. his brow furrows, and he picks up the phone, wondering why on earth you were calling him at such an hour.

"y' alright, sweetness?" satoru asks, voice groggy from being awoken. a frown quickly filled his then sleepy face, when the sound of your little hiccups and sniffles left the phones speaker. "you couldn’t get as much as word out between your sobs, and satoru immediately shoots up in his bed, and makes his way to sugurus room. "angel, what happened?" alarm filling his voice. he starts to hear your sobs calm down enough for to talk. "I didn't know who else to call- I'm sorry for waking you, 'toru, ill jus-" satoru immediately cuts you off, sensing that you were about to apologise for interrupting his sleep. "don't do that, don't apologise. I'm glad you did, pretty girl, y'know i'd always be here, no matter the time." he pads down the hall and knocks on sugurus door with urgency. as you attempt to gather your words, satoru hears suguru groan and walk over to the door. "what on earth do you want at his hour" suguru complains, evidently pissed he’d been woken up so abruptly. however, the anger immediately leaves his body as satoru holds a finger up to his lips, signaling suguru to listen. its then that he here smalls sobs coming from satorus phone.

'its y/n' satoru mouths to him, and suguru feels anxiety flood his veins. sugurus about to ask why you're crying, (and why on earth your still on the phone to satoru and not at their dorm yet, in their arm) when he hears your voice, nasally and small with shame. "he- he cheated-" you manage to produce between sobs. oh fuck no. your asshole boyfriend? cheat on you? satoru immediatly instructs you to come to theirs, and after multiple refusals on your end, they finally convince you. as they waited for your arrival, satoru still being on the phone with you, they wondered how your -now ex- boyfriend even had the audacity to cheat on you. for starters, they could argue he was barely even a boyfriend to you, forgetting anniversaries, dates, never giving you flowers. he would blatantly check out other girls, (which the two men in question could ever comprehend; how he could ever have his eyes anywhere other than on you). and to top it all off, you were way out of his league.

so yeah. to say they were upset wouldn't be the full truth, because although they hated the thought of you being upset, wetting those pretty cheeks with your tears, you were finally, finally, out of the clutches of that piece of trash ex. and they could finally be the ones give you what you deserve, what you need.

it was no surprise to anyone who knew them that they were into you, that they were whipped- anyone but you. these two insanely attractive men, whos looks could undoubtedly lead them to the cover of vogue, who had women lining up and begging for them to fuck them. who had women hanging of them at party, never having to do so much as lift a finger when they wanted to get their dicks wet, never had their minds on anyone but you. whenever satoru was balls deep in some chick who he hadn't even bothered to remember the name of, he imagined your skin in his hands, your hips in his hands, your nails in his back, your lips on his neck, your cunt wrapped around his dick. and whenever suguru had his lips round some girls clit, he wished it was your thighs clenched round his head, your hands pulling on his hair, your slick dribbling down his chin. wishing it was your pussy making a mess on his face.

both men were well aware of each others desire for you, and both men were more than happy to share. and despite their desires for you taking up their every waking thought, they never wanted to push you. they could tell that you wanted them, with all your lip bites and lingering stares, your face filling with heat whenever satoru was back from the gym in his tight, frankly slutty black gym shirt, so tight that it revealed the ridges of his abs. or when suguru took off his shirts as he walked towards the bathroom to take a shower, his back muscles flexing as he pulled it over his head. they knew, yet they waited, until you were ready, and when you would be they would welcome you with open arms. little did they know, that it would come sooner that they had thought

as you made your way over to satoru and sugurus dorm, and as their voices calmed your retching sobs down to small sniffles, determination filled your mind. you would do whatever you needed to get over that jerkface of an ex, and as soon as possible. now, in hindsight, fucking them wasn't what you thought you would do- fuck someone, yes, but you thought it would be a hookup with someone you wouldn't even catch the name of, and definitely not the same night you caught your boyfriend cheating, and most definitely not with the two men you had the most debilitating crushes on. yeah, you knew it was pretty bad to have not one but two crushes whilst literally dating someone, and that potentially it was a little hypocritical to be so mad at your ex cheating (but you never even acted on those crushes! aside from indulging in the frequent occasional stares when they looked just too irresistible), and in all fairness, you tried everything to squash these crushes that had lasted since fucking highschool- and dating your now ex was one of your more desperate attempts at getting over them. it worked to a degree, you had (unfortunately) caught feelings for someone else, feeling somewhat fulfilled, and you stuck around with your asshole ex purely because you weren't sure if you could cope with the feelings you felt for both satoru and suguru if you weren't in a committed relationship in which you could put most of your focus into. and now, you were screwed. you felt used and cheap, and when you were so close to finally leaving those feelings for satoru and suguru behind (you’re really kidding yourself) everything just fell apart. so you were not only feeling the common feelings of a breakup, let alone caused by cheating at that, you were also feeling completely and utterly dissapointed.

when the door opened to reveal that sugurus handsome, chiseled face (god- that jawline) was twisted into a frown, watching the remnants of your tears fall, you collapsed into his arms. and all of the previous emotion that had been buried down was now bubbling over to the surface as you sobbed into his chest. "s'alright, princess, let it out" he whispered into your hair, hand coming up to pet your hair. he lead you into the living room where satoru was, evidently setting it up for your arrival. they set you down on their couch, wrap you up in one of satoru's expensive sweaters that most definitely cost more than a month of your rent, and stick on one of your favourite movies on their tv. they sit either side of you, your head resting on satorus shoulder, and sugurus arm wrapped around you waist. after you had calmed down, one and a half movies later, the reality of the situation had set in, and they hear your voice rise up in anger, talking about how you can't believe he was such a dick, and how you didn't think he could ever stoop so low. satoru couldn't help but feel a smirk form on his lips, hearing you finally realize how shitty your ex was. but after the anger, came the doubt. the smirk was wiped right off satorus face when he heard your voice turn small and uncertain again, a frown taking place on those pretty lips of yours, asking them whether they thought it was because you weren't enough for him.

"god no, princess, he wasn't enough for you." sugurus tone was filled with disbelief, he couldn't even comprehend how you ever could ask that question, when you were so so sweet to that undeserving ass. baking him his favourite treats, buying him thoughtful presents on special days, showering him in your affections. the fact that he had not only treated you like shit but cheated? incomprehensible. not with how pretty you were. your pretty face, plush soft kissable lips, delicate hands much smaller than his, the pretty swell of your tits, just about noticeable under satorus sweater. the fat of your ass and your thighs, christ, you were to die for. what he would've given to be in your ex's position, to have you under him every night, to treasure you, please you in every way conceivable. on his face, sitting on his dick, legs on his shoulders, in his bed, on the couch, in the shower, on his countertops-

"trust me, sweetness, it's his loss." satoru's smooth voice pulls suguru out of his daydream, and he quickly hums in agreement. "i mean, god, what we would've done to be the ones to have you, baby, and not him" the words leave satorus mouth before he can even think about it, too tired to kick in his (usually ineffective, to be fair) filter. the pair stiffens either side of you as the words hang in the air, and you look at him with confusion written all over your pretty little features. satoru knows he should probably backtrack, and twist his words into something he doesn’t mean so as not to risk your friendship, but he finds that doesn't want to. he wants you to finally know how much they both need you, how badly you affect them, how much they both love you. "toru?" you question, waiting for him to elaborate. he doesn't, and so you turn to suguru, and are met with more silence, which only emphasises the earlier statement. "your- you guys aren't messing with me, right?" at that, satoru tosses you an incredulous, almost offended look. "what?" he questions, and the look he gives you puts you on edge "i mean- like- your not just saying that because.. of, y'know, the current circumstances?" you stumble over your words, and satoru doesn't think you can be any dumber than you are in this current moment. "honey, he meant every word." sugurus voice is low and seductive, and you're sure he's much closer than he was a minuet ago, his breath hitting your ear. you feel heat prickle up your neck and onto your face. "yeah, pretty girl, i do. how about i show you?" and before you can even register it, satorus lips are on yours, and shit, they're so soft and so much better than you had imagined. he leaves you quicker than you hoped, and you find yourself chasing after his kiss, causing him to give a low chuckle that got you way too hot and bothered. as you open your eyes, you're a little surprised when your met with sincerity on satoru's face.

"are you sure this is okay, pretty? we don't want to rush you." warmth fills your chest at this, and right now you're so mad at yourself for kidding yourself that you could ever get over them. "yes toru, please, want you both so bad, waited so long" and both satoru and suguru almost cum in their pants hearing your voice whine like that. then all of a sudden you’ve all shifted, you being pulled into sugurus lap with your chest to his back, and satoru pulls you in for another kiss, but this time it’s heated, desperate and has you panting into his mouth. you keen when you feel suguru’s lips on your necks, at first fluttering small kisses, which turn deeper as he progresses down your neck, leaving hickies in his wake. he sucks hard at the part where your shoulder meets your neck, and you let out the hottest little moan they’ve ever heard, and it causes satoru to still. you look up at him, you’re brows furrowing as his lips disconnect from yours. you watch as his eyes flitter around you face as he breaths heavy, lips swollen, and suguru turns his eyes in curiosity to satoru, still busy working on your neck. “god, pretty, that was the hottest thing i’ve ever heard. need more” he pants, and then he swoops in to give you the most dizzying kiss you’ve ever received in your entire life, and you feel his hand sneak under his sweater and your night shirt to palm your tits. you whine, and suguru moves his hands just beneath your pyjama bottoms, rubbing circles on you hips with his thumbs. your whines get louder as you feel satoru pinch your nipple between his fingers, arching your back to push your chest more into his hands. satoru pulls back at this, his head dizzy as he asks you ‘can i take this off you, sweetness?’ tugging at his sweater, and before you can even finish nodding you feels him shuck up the sweater and your t-shirt, suguru manoeuvring your body to help ease them off your torso. you feel you nipples harden as the cool air hits your chest, and both men let out heated groans at the sight of them. “damn, princess, these are even prettier than i had imagined” sugurus honeyed voice fills your ears and your preening at the praise has both his hands come up to palm them from behind. you begin to tilt your head back at the touch, but satorus hands come up to cradle your face and pull you back in for a kiss. at this point, it’s sloppy, the both of you fallen into debauchery. you feel sugurus hands begin to trial south and you whine at the loss of contact, so satoru’s hands leave your face and find their place back on your tits again, tweaking and pulling. you let out a small gasp as you feel sugurus hand breach past you shorts and your now soaked panties, teasingly rubbing the skin of you pelvis, and so, so close to your needy pussy. satoru then takes the liberty to trail kisses down you neck and then your sternum, then latching onto your nipple.

“ahhh- suguru please don’t tease, need you please” you pant, and you feel satoru smile against your skin. “need me where, baby?” and you pant as satoru unlatches from you nipple and moves to the next one, tweaking the other with his fingers. “c’mon sugu, you know where” you whine, and he chuckles “i’m afraid i don’t, princess. i need words” you let out what was a mix of a noise of frustration and a moan, thanks to satori’s ministrations on your tits, and you finally relent. “need you- ah- need you in my pussy- please!” you feel dirty letting such lewd words leave your mouth but god you don’t care because it feels too fucking good to have them both on you. suguru damn near creams his pants at your voice, and decides he can’t wait any longer and than he needs to feel your soaking cunt on his skin. he stops rubbing circles on your pelvis and takes his hands out of your pants, and before you can complain he pulling them down and your lifting your hips to make it easier for him. satorus now sucking hickies anywhere his lips can find, your neck, your chest, and one of his hands leaves your body to help you spread your legs, palm finding your thigh and pushing. “that’s it, be a good girl for suguru, 'kay?” he pants and doesn’t waste a minute to latch his lips back into your body. sugurus fingers find your pussy and god you swear you’ve never felt any pleasure like it. they run down your slit to collect your slick, then he proceeds to find your clit and rub tight, sticky circles on it. the sounds of him rubbing your pussy is obcene, an audible schlick filling the room each time he circles your clit. "yesyes- god, you feel so good-" you moan, you're not sure if it's the years of unresolved tension between the three of you but every part of you feels on fire, and you feel the best you ever have in your damn life. "yeah, that's it, good girl. bet this little clits been so neglected, huh? bet your ex never knew how to pleasure this pretty pussy, right?" he all but moans, and you nodding and repeating yesyesyes and suguru resolves that this isn't enough, and that he needs to dip his finger into you and feel just how tight you little cunt is. you feel them both move in tandem, and its as if they're communicating telepathically, because as soon as sugurus fingers leave your clit satorus replace them, not leaving you without pleasure for even a second. you feel one of sugurus thick finger prod at your entrance and your begging for him to just put it in. you arch into satoru as you feel sugurus finger fill you up, and oh my god his fingers feel so much better than yours, longer and thicker, and you begin letting out small moans and he slowly thrusts it up into you, and he curling it, as if he's searching for something and-

"oh fuuuuck!" you moan, as sugurus fingers find that spongy spot inside you. "found it." he chuckles, and then proceeds to enter a second finger. he speeds up, finger fucking your tight cunt and hitting that spot over and over and over again. "there you go, pretty girl, that's it, just like that" satoru groans and god he swears he's never seen a prettier sight. you, with your lips swollen from his kiss, you neck and chest now blooming with both his and sugurus hickies, your tits shiny with his spit, your back arched into his chest and your pussy drooling over his and sugurus fingers. "oh fuck! sugur- suguru I'm gonna-!" you squeal, sugurus unrelenting finger ramming into your g-spot so good and satorus fingers rubbing firm circles on your clit. "let go princess, cum all over my fingers." and you do, letting out the most pornographic moan you ever have in your entire life. sugurus fingers slow down and let you rid out your orgasm, and satoru pulls away from your sticky clit. you fall back against sugurus chest, as he coos into your ear, whispering sweet nothings.

as your breaths finally begin to even out, sugurus hand is grabbing your chin and pulling your face to meet his in a sloppy kiss, and you grind down on his lap and the bulge in his sweats, and then your hand creeps forwards to palm satoru through his shorts. "shit, pretty girl, not enough for you yet?" satoru coos, thrusting into your hand. "no- no not enough, 'toru. need you in me too" satorus hands that were planted at your waist being to trail down, when you grab his wrist. "need you cock, 'toru, please?" you coo and he swears you know what you're doing because he's never been harder in his life. your letting them manhandle you, taking off their shirts in the process and you start drooling at the sight of their abs, thick biceps and strong back muscles. you’re on your hand and knees, facing suguru with your ass pressed against satorus boxers, and he's teasing you by letting you feel him only through the thin fabric. you fumble with sugurus sweats and boxers, and you pull out his cock and his bigger and thicker than you'd imagined. "sure you can take it, love? bet it's so much bigger than your ex's, huh?" suguru asks teasingly with a smirk, that’s promptly wiped off when you press light kisses to his weeping tip. "god, princess. need your mouth on me" and you don't even hesitate, despite his size, and you’re swallowing him down as deep as you can. satorus cock is now freed from his boxers and is teasing your clit with his tip, sliding it up and down your sloppy cunt. "shit, you look so pretty, even from behind, angel" satoru coos and he lines up his cock with your pussy. "y'ready for me, pretty?" but he doesn't even give you time to answer before he pushes into your tight pussy to the hilt, and lets out the sluttiest whine you've ever heard from a man. "shiiiitttt- god- you're so- ah! dont clench like that- fuck-" he strains out "god you're so tight" he hisses, and sugurus not fairing much better as he feels you hum around his cock, because you're so messy with it, licking and sucking and spitting and chocking. "godd- sloppy girl, huh?" suguru breaths and you smile up at him as best you can with your mouth full of cock.

"fuck, I've wanted this for so long, angel." satoru moans as his thrusts speed up and his hips angle to meet you sweet spot. "can't believe you- shit- gave that asshole this sweet cunt of yours. bet it didn't feel as good as this though, yeah? bet he wasn't hitting that sweet spot of yours over and over again, huh sweetheart?" he emphasises with two hard thrusts, and his arm snakes around your body as his fingers find purchase on your clit again. you pop off of sugrus cock for a breather. "yesyesyesyes! n'vr made me feel as good as you do 'toru!" is all you can manage before you're taking sugurus cock back into your mouth and sucking hard. your thighs start twitching and your pussy spasms and clenches and satoru knows you're about to cum. "aw, 'bout to cum on my cock, pretty girl? c'mon, give it to me. wan' it so bad, baby, be a good girl and cum for me, yeah?" sugurus groans alongside satorus dirty words are almost enough to tip you over the edge, and suguru seals the deal with how filthy his tone is, "god, didn't know you were so good at sucking cock, jesus. know how to use that mouth of yours, huh princess?" and your moaning and slobbering on his cock "go on, love, cum all over 'toru’s big cock, feels so good, hm?" and your gone, pulling off sugrus dick to let out the whiniest, most desperate moan of the evening as you convulse around satorus cock. "fuck yeah, that's it, pretty. been wanting to make you cum on this dick for so long." and his thrusts get rapid as he nears his own high, and you latch onto sugrurs cock again, determined to get him to finish soon too. "w-where d'ya want it, angel?" satoru whines, his thursts now sloppy and frantic, the lewd pap! pap! pap! of his now cum slicked balls slapping against your ass. "want it inside, 'toru, please-" before the words even leave your mouth he's cumming, and its a lot. he's never came so hard in his life. it was all too hot, watching you slobber and choke all over sugrus cock as you grinded back onto his own dick to meet his thrusts. you shiver and convulse as you feel his warm, thick load fill you up, moaning on sugurus cock. suguru want too far behind, those moans being the tipping point as he grabs onto you hair and cums down your throat, and he swears he cums a little more when he watches you swallow without hesitation. you pop off his cock and practically collapse into the couch, all three of you huffing to catch your breaths after the most mind-numbing orgasms of your life.

"shit, that was the hardest i’ve ever came in my life" you breathe out, and they both can't help but agree with you. suguru slides down the couch and pulls you into his chest, as satoru gets up from the couch to clean you up with a warm towel, but not before admiring the way his cum seeps out of your cunt. you're absolutely spent and the next minutes are a blur as you recover and they dress you again in their clothes. you feel satorus expensive mattress beneath you and his (equally as expensive) soft sheets wrap around your body. you’re the pulled into one of their chests (you were too delirious to clock whos) as the other nuzzles their face into the fack of your neck, arms wrapping around you from behind.

"princess?" you hear from above you (so it was sugurus chest). you hum in response, too tired to respond with words. "this wasn't just a quick fuck for us, you know that right?” and you smile into his chest because you know what he means, and he’s cleared all the doubts from your mind before they could even begin to properly form. you simply hum again and you feel satoru smile against the skin of your neck. as you blissfully drfited off into sleep, you're phone was busy buzzing on the couch, desperate texts from a number that would soon be blocked, and satoru could finally keep your contact as ‘pretty girl’ without you fearing that you’re shitty ex would care.

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jesus christ im pretty sure that took like, five hours without editing LMAO. they say go big or go home I guess! also i need to get proper dividers but i don’t have any yet and it’s literally midnight where i am right now so i cba to get them!!! this post will be made prettier in the future when i get my bearing around actually posting in a tumblr blog instead of just reading other peoples 😭😭😭

[nrdmssgs]

Hi hi! I was wondering if I could request a 141 reaction to reader asking them to dance out in the rain with them, civilian or a fellow soldier? I really loved the headcanon you did of falling asleep on their shoulder and I just need more fluff of them please

Masterlist

Oh how I love doing anything in the rain with SO!!!!!!!! I live for such requests, thank you so much!! I had the best time writing this.

TF 141 reacting on reader, asking them for a dance in the rain

Simon Ghost Riley

This was the most important day in his life, the happiest one. But Ghost still felt guilt stinging him time to time. What if you said, you wanted it to be quiet and private just to make him comfortable? What this didn't match your dreams, what if his whole life didn't meet your expectations? There were no guests, no intricate or pompous speeches, no tears or happy laughter - everything was down to earth, calm and fast. Simon didn't even get it right away, when everything was done. He just stood there before the clerk looking at your certificate.

"You sure, you don't want any gift to remember this day?" He took your hand so that he doesn't lose you on a crowded street.

"Oh, I have a gift, don't worry. And I'm planning to keep it for life." Your smile illuminated even this colorless autumn day.

Simon heard a large raindrop hit your shoulder. The next drop touched his cheek. This rain reminded a more summer one: it did not cover the city with a moisture gray veil, but merrily played with the rays of the sun, which appeared at the other end of the sky and refracted in lonely drops.

People around you fled, seeking shelter from the rain, and Ghost cursed softly. "Not only haven't I arranged a proper ceremony for you - now the day will be ruined by the rain..."

"How many times do I have to repeat, that it is primarily me, who didn't want any ceremonies?" You lift his hand and place a kiss on his knuckle.

"If you ever have second thoughts - let me know right away. I'll find a tailor, arrange a cake and the isle, and what else people do normally..."

"Mister Riley, this may come as a surprise, people do whatever they please." Your laughter immediately eases his soul. "Now please stop beating yourself for not being an incarnation of every teenage dream. I don't need it. What I need to remember this day forever is you, Simon. Just you."

"Just me is not enough..." This was meant to be inaudible, but you still heard him and stopped in your tracks.

"Please, never say that again. You are enough. Now, if you want to go above and beyond that badly today - dance with me. Right here, right now." Your request takes him by surprise. But it's you, and he swore to himself when you two signed the papers earlier, that you'd get whatever you ask for. Always.

He stands motionless for a while, never taking his eyes off you. And then he holds out his hand to you. His heart beats as fast as the day you met.

"May I have this dance, Mrs Riley?"

Kyle Gaz Garrick

"Kyle!" You would jump on the hospital bed right into his arms, if you were sure, it wouldn't hurt him.

Gaz smiled widely the very second, he heard your cry. "Hi, sweetie! I'm so glad, you made it here, I missed you so much!" His lively voice doesn't match his appearance: his body is covered with patches and stitches, and it almost screams 'let me rest and don't even think to go on another mission in next few months'. You frown at the sight of it and come closer, inspecting every centimeter of his skin.

He tracks your gaze and says lightheartedly, "Don't worry, sweets, in a week ill be as good as new."

"In a pair of weeks," corrects him nurse, who lead you into his room.

"In a pair of weeks, I'll be dead of boredom here..."

You profusely apologize to the nurse for Kyle and when she leaves, closing the door behind her, you turn back. "It's okay, I've got my job done, and I'll be here with you for as long as it takes." You are so relieved to finally see him in one piece, after you got that frightening call. You know, it's his job, his life, but you can't lose him, cant even imagine waking up, knowing, I will never see that myriad of different smiles of Kyle Garrick.

One of your favorites is that sneaky shit-eating grin, when he is about to win a bet or a game. It is so pure, so full of joy - it makes you believe for a short moment, there is no war out there, no hell, he will have to return to sooner or later. So for the next two weeks you come up with all kinds of games, only to see that smile on his face.

Even though it was Kyle who ended up in the hospital bed out of the two of you, he takes care of you as usual, not the other way around. So every time you lose a bet - he makes you eat a desert from his lunch, or wraps you in his shirt, so that you are cozy and warm. But in rare cases, when you win - you exploit it as much as you can. After your very first win you make him promise, that he will follow every instruction of his doctors, and in two weeks he will dance with you in the courtyard of the hospital.

Gaz keeps his word, and after two weeks you finally leave the hospital. It would be the perfect moment - if not for one "BUT": the street meets you with pouring rain.

"Sorry, sweetheart, looks like no dancing in the wild for you today. But if you are willing to wait for a few hours - I promise, well find a perfect ballroom somewhere in my flat." Kyle touches your shoulder and smiles reassuringly.

"Oh no, all your ballrooms require us to press ourselves as close to each other and not swing at all."

"And that was... pretty much the most significant part of my plan." Even when he is flirting with you that shamelessly - Kyle somehow keeps the softest eyes and sweetest smile.

You know him too well - Kyle can't refuse you. So when you hold out your hand to him, he shakes his head, leans the bags against the wall, and leads you out into the little garden in front of the hospital building. There he puts one arm around your waist and circles slowly with you, oblivious to the rain. He does not hide the admiration with which he watches your movements. When you get closer to each other - he covers every inch of your face with kisses, repeating "Losing to you was the best thing, my angel. Thank you for helping me out".

Captain John Price

On your first date, you looked nervous. Despite knowing him for years already, this evening felt different. You knew, at some point you'll have to explain, what's going on, but words kept failing you.

"You ok, love?" John noticed it. Of course, he would, since his eyes never left your face.

No.

"Yes! I mean, of course... Sorry, where were we?"

But he knows you too well, and you already feel his eyes scanning through a smile plastered on your face. So John takes your hand and starts asking questions. He doesn't pressure you, but just helps you to navigate through your anxiety, trying to specify, what causes it. So you finally give in and explain that even the most insignificant physical contacts are difficult for you. At the same time, you are incredibly glad that you two finally went on a date. To your relief, John reacts calmly, lets go of your hand and reassures you, that your wellbeing is much more important than social customs, demanding, that every good date must end with a kiss or a hug.

"I promise to not touch this topic, if you don't feel like sharing, but I must know, if anything... or anyone caused this or if it's just the way you are, which is absolutely ok." His voice is soft. It sounds so comforting, you feel safe enough to share your reasoning, which Price accepts right away.

Since then, he catches himself urging to touch you, but freezing, before his hand actually reaches your personal space. No matter how badly he wanted to comfort you and share his warmth - John remembered, he better come up with an alternative way to do that. So he made you warm with words, little presents, acts of service - anything, but touch.

One day, he was walking you home from another date when lightning flashed somewhere in the distance, illuminating the evening sky.

"Oh no, it's about to rain, John, come wait at my place."

"Don't worry, love, you don't scare a brit with a few raindrops. You need a good sleep before working week, so I'll get you home and be on my way to my place right after."

When you are saying goodbyes at your door, it starts raining. John turns away and heads right into a thick wall of raindrops, falling all around a canopy. "It's just water, it's not gonna harm him," you think to yourself. But something inside you asks, demands, pleads you to stop him. So you dart after Price and grab him in an awkward embrace from back.

"Love?" John turns his head. "I told you to not wo-"

You cut him off, shifting around and now pressing your cheek against his broad chest. It is unexpected, but so much awaited, John barely holds back a shiver, that runs down his body. You start quietly humming some vaguely familiar melody and gently rocking back and forth.

"Can I hug you back?" Even startled by your sudden act of affection, John still guards your border.

You nod, still pressing yourself so close to him, that raindrops can't wet his jacket from the front. Carefully and slowly, he locks you in an embrace, letting you continue slowly dancing with him. He doesn't care for the rain or late hour anymore - he only cares for you in his hands.

Johnny Soap Mactavish

"Seriously, another bloody traffic jam? " Soap presses his face against car window and groans. You've asked him for about a hundred times not to do that, but it is impossible to make Johnny cooperate, when he is unhappy.

Hes been venting to you about that gig for the last few months. You were pretty sure, it was because you owned a car, which was practically the only reasonable transport to reach such a secluded small town, where the concert took place. One must have witnessed Johnnys puppy eyes, when he asked you to ride there together with him, to understand, why you just couldn't say no. You invited the rest of the 141 to join you, but all of them, by a strange coincidence, remembered some urgent personal plans at the last moment.

So there you were, alone with a whining Sergeant in a car, stuck in a traffic jam, that was very likely to not let you make it in time even for the second half of the gig. And as if things weren't bad enough - it started raining.

"I'm sorry, Soap. I'm not sure, we will be there in time." You hated it that, you couldn't change the situation, because Johnny always did everything in his power to cheer you up, help you or just make you smile. You wanted to be as good friend as he was to you, but this traffic jam required a true magician in order to get sorted out in minutes. So you sigh deeply, tapping the steering wheel with your fingertips.

The idea hits you out of nowhere. You pull to the side, as soon as you reach a small, empty parking area in the woods.

Soap turns to you with a puzzled face. "Lass? Everything alright?"

Without answering him, you turn off the engine and pick up the phone. "Ah, you want to look for another route again?" suggests Johnny. "But we already tried it a hundred times - there are no alternatives ..."

"Calm down, MacTavish, I'm bringing you the concert."

"You mean, you're bringing me to the concert?" He tilts his head to the side in confusion.

"I said what I said, Johnny... Now, give me ju-u-u-ust one more minute.... Here, perfect!" With these words, you jump out of the car right into the rain and open the passenger door. "C'mon, MacTavish, we spent a few hours trying to get there, we might as well enjoy our very own concert."

With the first chords of the song, a radiant smile blooms on Johnny's face. He throws his head back and laughs out loud, covering his face with his hands. "Ya crazy, lassie, you know it?"

You pull him out of the car and take his both hands in yours. "Listen, I know, this is no way as fun as the real gig. But I dont want you to remember this day as 'that time, we killed a day in a car', ok?"

Johny moves closer, not stopping laughing and starts slow dancing with you despite a rather jolly and fast melody. "Oh fuck that concert. This right here is worth a month spent in a traffic jam. I wouldn't trade it for anything"

[lil-gae-disaster]

The Smith Brothers.

OKAY OKAY SO I NEED TO RAMBLE-

The pale fella is Darwin, Jonathans older brother.

Growing up, those two could have been barely called brothers. They never engaged in childlike banter and when they interacted, it was as if they were meeting a stranger.

This is due to a couple factors:

One: Jonathan looks a lot like their mom. Darwin takes after their father.

Two: Jonathan got raised and basically adopted by his nanny Juliette Favre, a french unmarried woman who has traveled to England in search for an opportunity to work.

Three: Jonathans father was very vocal about him blaming his wifes illness and later death, and since Darwin was around him a lot, he kinda adopted the opinion that Jonathan killed their mother, too.

Four: Darwin got favored a lot over Jonathan. That seperated the brothers further.

The only time Jonathans father was actually paying attention to Jonathan was when he just learned to speak and since Juliette knew almost no English, she raised him solely in French. That, Jonathans father didn't like since he found only the foreigners and simple folk speak with an accent (bare the common english accent) and his son was neither and he didn't want Jonathan to reflect poorly onto his family.

Juliette listened to her master and put in an effort to raise Jonathan further in English, although he still took over some of her french accent. But it gets overshadowed by his british one a lot and only truly shows when he's pronouncing certain few avoidable words or when he's angry, or when he gets sloppy with his speech.

The other time was completely consumed by Darwin, the golden child. Even though, in comparison, Jonathan was a wee bit superior to Darwin in intelligence.

Darwin thought for some time that Jonathan was the maids child, that was until he first overheard his father talk about how this damned child (Jonathan) took his love from him.

Although, Jonathan is almost an exact copy of their mother, Darwin just thought that a man similar to their mother was walking around somewhere in Europe and Juliette has been impregnated and left by him and then crawled to his "gracious and everloving" father who offered her support and a place to live and work at.

They haven't seen each other for a long time since Darwin left Jonathan the first time in his wedding preparation room and just told him that he was glad Jonathan should get married too. No feelings or informalities involved, it sounded almost like a diplomatic exchange than a well-wish from one brother to the other.

The last time was when the squad departed from the visit to the Hayes manor and Jonathan asked Freddie to take a short detour to his childhood house. They agreed and surprisingly, not Jonathans father, but Darwin opened the door.

It seems their father died and Jonathan had not been notified nor mentioned in the will.

He introduced himself crudely with the indifference to his brother this man.

Jonathan and Freddie were invited in for tea, and that was the first and only time Jonathan had seen his brother be genuinely nice to him.

And later on, Jonathan found out that his adoptive mother has also died recently and that he had not been given his part of the inheritance, instead it has been given to the house and Darwins family, since they were of the opinion they needed it more than Jonathan.

Jonathan after that cursed him out and then stormed off while dragging Freddie behind him. In the carriage, he broke down crying in his husbands arms.

Jonathan wasn't even supposed to inherit a lot, since his mother had no money of her own. She wanted to give Jonathan her brooch and her bracelet that has been a family heirloom.

Darwins family sold those pieces of jewlery and then used this money in addition to the abundance of the money they already had.

(Just to be clear; Darwin wasn't aware of the sentimental value and his father didn't care about it)

Yea... that's them.

[ @hamalicious-soup @marsfingershurt @papers-pamphlet @knowledge-paradox @imobsessedwiththeatre @schnitzelsemmerl @almaprincess66 @half-eaten-baguetteee ]

[fangirlingalittletoohard]

Down Bad

After perhaps the worst day of both of your lives, you and Crowley need proof that life is worth living again. When you meet each other in the bar in which you work, you prove to be exactly what the other needs to provide comfort after the conclusion of both of your relationships; a friend. How will you both react, after being hurt so terribly, when you begin to fall for one another?

Crowley x fem!reader

Use of y/n

Warnings: occasional swearing, implied mental illness

1,951 words

prev. chapter

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Chapter 6 (final chapter)

You woke up relatively early after essentially crying yourself to sleep. You couldn’t believe you had been so stupid. Your head was throbbing, whether from alcohol, crying, lack of sleep, or a combination of all three, you weren’t too sure. You had fucked up the friendship which had helped you to grow so much as a person by having feelings. You realised now that it wasn’t just lust last night, but you had genuine feelings for Crowley. It hurt knowing you had only just discovered these feelings and your recklessness had ruined any chance you possibly had with him. You genuinely hadn’t felt any romantic attachment to him before the past twenty-four hours. You had genuinely just been very close friends and you were so grateful for that friendship. If you could redo last night, you wouldn’t go out at all. You would stay home, and determine to suppress your feelings in order to maintain your friendship. 

You tried calling Crowley (multiple times in succession), but, as you had expected, there was no answer. You lay in bed, curtains still closed, staring at the ceiling and resolving never to leave your bed again. You truly hated yourself so much in that moment. 

~~~

You called in sick on Monday and Tuesday. You were still wearing the same pyjamas you had put on on Saturday night once you had arrived home and you hadn’t showered or eaten anything much. 

On Wednesday, you realised that you were beginning to spiral. As easy as you knew it would be to just stay in bed until someone noticed your absence and forced you out, you knew from experience how hard it would be to pick yourself back up again. Reluctantly, you dragged yourself into the shower. You sat on the floor of the shower letting the warm water run over you for at least half an hour before you talked yourself into shampooing your hair and lathering body wash over your skin. You were glad to feel clean again. 

You wrapped your hair up in a towel and threw on some joggers and your comfiest old top and the pleasant feeling of your body being clean inspired you to brush your teeth (not for your usual two minutes, but 5% is better than 0% as the therapist you used to see had told you). 

You opened the living room window and sat on the sofa for a slight change in scenery. Your stomach growled. You knew that going out to buy food or making something was too much, so you ordered breakfast to be delivered to your apartment. 

Once your breakfast arrived, you forced yourself to fill multiple glasses with water and bring them over to the sofa so that you had no excuse to be dehydrated. You ate as much as you could of your full English breakfast and managed to gulp down two glasses of water. You felt a little better after fulfilling your basic human needs and decided that getting out of the house would probably do you some good. 

Reluctantly, you gave your manager a call. Thankfully, your manager was a lovely woman only a few years older than you. You forced yourself to open up slightly, explaining in limited detail that you had been struggling mentally over the past few days but wanted to come back into work today. Being the lovely woman that she was, she agreed to come in to work also so that, should you need to leave your shift early, there would still be someone to tend the bar. 

You took a deep breath and made an effort to congratulate yourself on looking after yourself, as embarrassing as it felt to find these simple tasks so difficult. 

~~~ 

Thankfully, the bar was quiet all evening. You had piled your freshly-washed hair on top of your head to avoid styling it and had worn an outfit that complied with uniform regulations but was still comfortable. You were glad you had come to work. Your manager had funny stories to tell about her toddler in his quest to begin walking (and to imitate his mother’s accidental yet often swearing) and the distraction of having something to do perked you up. 

As the night drew to a close and you began to lock up, your manager offered you shifts over the weekend. “There’s some pretty big gigs down the road this weekend so we’ll probably be busy ad it wouldn’t hurt to have an extra member of staff in.”  You thought on it for a second.  “You don’t have to commit, just come in if you fancy it and let me know when you want to leave.” She added. You were grateful for her. You knew that obviously she would benefit from having another pair of hands on a busy weekend, but also knew that her offer was disguising her giving you a place to come every day to get out of the house. 

~~~ 

The weekend passed rather quickly. Being at home by yourself was difficult because being alone with your thoughts led to you pining for Crowley, so you spent most of your time at work. As your manager had predicted, you were busy, which meant that you rarely had time to get lost in your thoughts. By Sunday night, you were exhausted but satisfied, knowing that it would be much easier to fall asleep if your body was tired. 

When you arrived home after your shift, however, you didn’t quite know how to react when you were greeted by Crowley, sat on the steps to your apartment building and tapping his foot agitatedly. Your heart began to beat extremely rapidly. You were just beginning to feel somewhat normal again and he was going to thrust you right back to square one. You would not stand for it. 

He stood up quickly once he saw you approaching. He opened his mouth to greet you but you cut him off. “I am not in the mood for bullshit, Crowley, so you had better either explain or get away from my apartment.” The coldness in your voice felt alien to you, but you knew you had to be blunt with him in order to protect yourself. 

“I came to explain.” He began. “I didn’t think you’d be working on a Sunday.”  You folded your arms across your chest and stared at him silently.  “Okay,” He began, rather awkwardly. You weren’t used to him being awkward. “I shouldn’t have left the way I did.” He continued by way of an apology. When you didn’t reply, he took a deep breath and continued, “so I’m sorry.”  “Thank you for your apology.” You replied plainly. He knew he wasn’t giving you what you wanted. It started to rain. Somehow, you knew that the rain must be Crowley’s doing. You still didn’t know quite what was going on with him, but you were certain that he was supernatural. He was trying to get you to invite him in, but you weren’t going to bite.  “I’m not like you,” he began to explain, the rain becoming heavier. “I’m not good. Actually, I’m the complete opposite of good.” He mumbled.  “Crowley, I don’t want games.” You stated. “Tell me what’s going on or go home.”  He let out a frustrated sigh before rolling back his shoulders. You had to blink a few times to make sure you weren’t imagining things. A pair of huge, beautiful black wings had appeared behind him. He removed his glasses and you saw, for the second time, his serpentine eyes. You frowned. You didn’t understand.  “I’m a demon.” He stated. “I am literally here on Earth to cause corruption. I can’t do that to you. You deserve someone good.” It was raining hard now.  You didn’t know what to say. You knew that Crowley wasn’t human, but still, this was a lot to come to terms with. Crowley being a demon meant that Hell existed, and if Hell existed, that meant that Heaven existed, and if Heaven existed, that meant that God existed… You had been an Atheist since you realised in school that you could question the Bible stories being read to you. You wanted to voice all of this, but instead what came out of your mouth was “can I touch them?”  Crowley seemed a little taken aback, but managed to reply, “Um, sure.”  He turned around and spread his wings. You ran your fingers through the soft feathers and felt him shudder under your touch. They really were magnificent. 

You stepped back a little and Crowley turned back around. “Don’t look at me like that.” He pleaded.  “Like what?” You asked.  “Like that.” He repeated. “Affectionately.”  You realised that, against your best intentions, you were, in fact, looking at him affectionately. He was just gorgeous, like that, with his golden eyes on show and his wings spread behind him. It was definitely a lot to take in, and he had said that he was the opposite of good, but other than last weekend, he had never been anything other than lovely. Yes, he was a little grumpy and rough around the edges sometimes, but he was genuinely concerned for your welfare most of the time. 

Crowley raised a wing over your head to shelter you from the rain. You practically melted. “You’re not the opposite of good.” You laughed. “Look at you! Ever the gentleman!”  He still didn’t look convinced.  “Okay, so what you’re a demon. You used to be an angel, right? So it clearly isn’t as clear cut as ‘angels good, demons bad.’ It makes no difference to how I feel about you. You could be an angel, or a demon, or a bloody unicorn, or just another human and I would feel the same. My feelings aren’t based on what you are, they’re based on who you are.”  Crowley was silent for a few moments. You felt a little self-conscious after opening up way more than you had meant to, but didn’t dare move for fear that he wouldn’t reciprocate your feelings.  “I don’t want to hurt you and make you leave.” He admitted. “You’ve already hurt me.” You replied. “But I’d rather you love me and hurt me than just leave without giving this a go.” This seemed to resonate with him.  “You’re like fucking heroin” he stated, laughing a little.  “How so?” You asked.  “Addictive. Dangerous. Saving me from myself again. Heroine with an ‘e’.”  “Someone’s been listening to Taylor Swift.” You teased, heart thumping so hard you thought it might actually break your ribs.  “Oh, shut up.” He replied, allowing his wings to recede and pulling you into a kiss. It was sweet and soft. His lips slotted perfectly between yours. The rain soaked your face and clothes as he held you tightly against him. 

Finally, you broke apart. You didn’t know how this would play out. After all, Crowley wasn’t human, but you’d be damned if you didn’t at least try. Being damned didn’t seem so bad though if it meant spending more time with this demon. You began to shiver a little as the rain had soaked through to your skin.  “Can you please stop this rain?” You asked, leaning into him to try to absorb some of his warmth.  “I quite like it,” he replied. “You look lovely all wet, and I can’t feel a thing.”  “Oh for God’s sake, come inside.” You conceded.  “I’d rather you didn’t evoke Her name in front of me.” He replied.  You rolled your eyes. “I will lock you out.” You teased.  “But, my darling, where would be the fun in that?” He replied, following you inside and pulling you into another long kiss. 

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A/N: thank you for reading, my loves! this was the final part so I hope you are satiated! If not, send me some asks and I would be v happy to do some spin-off one-shots xoxo