#Poetic Lab | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

carolmunson · 1 year

Text

let's go, don't wait: part II (e.m. x f!reader)

inspired by this prompt by @edsforehead - it's not exactly the same but i did my best! series masterlist summary: modern!eddie's been single since 2020 and aside from getting his dick wet after weekend shows at the hideout, he hasn't been going out of his way for love until his friends make him. cw: 18+ for adult themes. alcohol use, swearing, phone sex, smut, oral (f receiving). some sad childhood talk, all around this is a fluff piece so nothing too bad. (19K words.)

With how easy the first date had been to make, Eddie wasn’t expecting it to be so hard to pin you down for the next one. Neither of your schedules had lined up for the rest of the week, and up until next Friday neither of you had much free time. You either had to stay at work late or he had to stay late for the three extracurriculars he was running (jazz club, D&D club, and co-runner of the school’s GSA) – which he’d only be annoyed about running if he didn’t absolutely love the kids. The extra overtime didn’t hurt either, perks of working at a rich kid private arts school.

At first he was nervous you were busy going on dates with other guys until he called you one night and he could hear your boss in the background waxing poetic about the shift to lab grown sapphires. Then he’d feel bad for feeling so accusatory to start – you’d never said anything to each other about being exclusive. Hell, you’d only been on one date. But you talked every day, and fuck did that feel good for Eddie.

g’morning pretty ew you’re obsessed with me. good morning, boy

He’s happy he knows you’re joking because he’s certain no other guy would get it. He knows you read his text and screamed into your pillow, cheeks hot and chest thrumming. That’s why you always have to respond so mean so that he doesn’t know how much you like him back. This backfires, because he can tell that the meaner you are, the more you like his attention.

what’s your weekend look like? i know you leave for AZ on sunday but i’d really like to see you before you go.

You were headed to a gem trade show in Tucson on Sunday for a few days. You went every year you’d been working for your boss, you told him all about it on the phone. You’re cute when you’re excited but he didn’t want to embarrass you by saying so – just let you rattle on about all the things you get to see. You promised to send him pictures of some of the cool fossils you might come across, all of the big crystal furniture. “You were a weird dinosaurs kind of kid, right? You’d be into pictures of fossils?" “Why are you so mean? Would you go up to nine year old me and call him a weird kid that’s into dinosaurs?” “No, he’d be so sad.” “So next time you wanna say some mean shit, imagine you’re saying it to nine year old me.” “I bet you were a cute kid,” you thought out loud, “You’re a really cute adult.”

“You think I’m cute?” “The cutest.” His face burned at every compliment you offered him, flushing dark pink at every sweet word you said. He was a mess. Embarrassment would flood him when he’d check his phone during class, the kids would never let him hear the end of it. “Did you meet her on Tinder, Mr. E?” “This is not appropriate class discussion guys,” his eyes would shut tight in frustration when they’d catch him texting you back and he’d reluctantly tuck his phone into his back pocket. They were way bolder than he was at their age. “No because like, you’re so happy though. Look how you’re smiling when you text her.” “Mr. Munson’s got that W rizz.” “Is she hot?” “Be fucking forreal. He’s blushing so hard right now.” “Smash or pass, Munson?” “Guys, can you relax? You literally have a test right now." Bzz. Bzz.

i gotta run errands on saturday and go then leave sunday night :( working late friday cause we need to take gem inventory essentially He sighed, he didn’t want to wait until next Friday to see you again.

i could run errands with you if you’ll have me. i’ll drive! you sure? it’s not super exciting stuff. you make it exciting. :) i’ll take you out to lunch. sound good? okay :) okay :) see you saturday, cutie omg shut up 🙄 but yeah. see you saturday. :)

He was nervous you’d notice he got his interior detailed the night before, but he was too embarrassed to let you get into the car in its original glory. He honked the horn in three short bursts, being mindful of the neighbors even though it was around 9:30 in the morning. You inch out of the door of your place, the first floor of a quaint three family home, in your Princess Diana best. You dressed for errands and his heart swells, leggings and a big sweatshirt, little white sneakers and socks. You look cute like this, hurrying outside with your paper Old Navy bag blowing in the wind, relaxed and laid back. But you aren’t for long, you take a step outside only to feel the chill in the ‘second winter’ air of March and raise a finger to him before running back inside — reappearing with a lightweight parka haphazardly thrown on. You patter to the car and he tries to ignore his heart rate speeding up while he leans over to open it for you. “Hey you,” he smiles, “Good morning.” “Morning,” you say with a coy smile. His chest leans forward slightly to kiss you as you settle in but he stops short. Are you there yet? You only kissed that night last week. What if you weren’t ready to kiss again? He swallows, settling back into his seat but recognizing how his car fills with your scent. You smell so fucking good he could eat you. “So what’s the agenda, sugar?” he asks. “Okay, agenda: Target, Old Navy for a return,” you say, raising your bag, “I have to run into Sephora to pick up some sunscreen for my boss, and um…I think that’s it? They’re all in the same shopping center over by um – by the movie theater.” “Oh yeah,” he nods, “I know the one.” He reaches for the sound system, turning the volume up a little, Lamb of God’s Vanishing crunching through his speakers. He watches for your reaction and can tell you don’t know it, but you don’t seem appalled or repulsed. “Do you have a tunes preference?” he asks, voice velvety smooth, eyes catching on your parted lips, “It’s a long drive.” “Uh…” your knee bounces faster, “I mean it’s your car. We should listen to what you wanna listen to.” “Honey, I’m like your Uber driver today,” he offers, head tilting while he looks over at you. Eddie’s gaze lingers on your face with soft eyes, lashes a shadow over his irises, “How’m I gonna get a five star review if you don’t like the music?”

“I do!” you assure aggressively, “I do like it.”

“Here, I have a plan,” he nods, holding his hand out, “Gimme your phone.”

You toss him a look which triggers an eye roll from him, “Just trust me, give me your phone.”

“Here’s the bargain, I connect your tunes to my car,” he mumbles while he disconnects his phone from the car’s Bluetooth and connects yours instead, “But I get to pick the songs. Deal?”

A giggle bubbles out of you, shoulders shaking loosely, “That’s ridiculous.”

“But is it a deal?” he asks again. He takes a breath that inflates his chest, while you consider it. It’s not fair that you look so cute this morning, it’s not fair that he doesn’t have the confidence to just reach over and lay one on you like they do in the movies. He wasn’t lying when he said you were so kissable.

“It’s a deal,” you nod. He watches your knee slow down to stopping. Eddie swallows, eyes traveling from your knees to your full thighs sitting fat in his passenger's seat with a quick scan that you don’t notice.

“Okay, so let’s see…” he mutters, going into your music and scrolling through your artists, landing pretty early on with an enthusiastic nod that makes his waves bounce around his face.

“Blood Brothers?” he asks, “Wow, you really did hate your dad, huh? I haven’t heard this album in years.”

“I started liking them for a boy back in high school,” you shrugged while he thumbed through the tracks, “Then started liking them forreal.” “That’s okay,” he smiles over at you, “You’d be surprised to see my Spotify wrapped every year. Never as mean and scary as you’d expect.”

“No?” your brows raise, “Not a bunch of ‘Stabby Metal Scream Crunch Stab’ in your top ten?”

He scoffs, settling on ‘Set Fire to the Face on Fire’, the opening Fire! Fire! Fire! leaking through the speakers, “I married the head cheerleader at my high school – I’d like to think my music taste is pretty eclectic. Metal’s just, y’know, the main course. Plenty of side dishes on my roster.”

“You a big fan of having something on the side?” you quirk a brow at him through the rear view mirror while he puts the car in drive. He scoffs again, lips twitching up into a smirk. You’re quick and it makes his blood rush, his fingers drum nervously on the wheel while he keeps the car in place.

“Why’re you so mean, huh?” he teases, “Do I look like the kind of guy that’s had a lot of side pieces?”

“Oh,” you start, giving him a once over, “Not even close.”

“You’re here with me, aren’t you?” he asks, putting the car in park again. He turns down the volume, turning his body completely towards you. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right,” you drone, turning yourself toward him in return, “I guess I am.” Eddie clears his throat, tongue flicking over his full lips to wet them.

“So uh…before we hit the road,” his voice cracks, heart rattling in its cage, trapped in his chest, “D’you-think-I-could-steal-a-kiss-good-morning?” It pours out of his mouth while his body goes numb – like the bandaid was ripped off but someone else did it for him. His hopeful voice when he presents the offer sounds foreign to him, but he knows what he’s asking you. Blood rushes in his ears, the steady thump of his heart pounding through his veins. Your bottom lip tucks into your teeth, eyes shutting briefly with anticipation, a tiny chuckle huffs through your nose. Your knee starts to bounce again.

“Yeah, but it’s not stealing if I’m letting you have one,” you reply, your own voice becoming delicate and girlish, teenage nerves coasting down your throat through the back of your neck. He leans close to you, engulfed again in the scent of your perfume, head leaning to the side slightly while your movements mirror his. Eddie brings a hand up to hold your face, keeping you steady while he goes in for the kill, one he’d been hoping to make since he saw you last. Heart stuck in his throat, he almost feels a sob shoot through his chest when his lips touch yours. It’s as soft and warm as he remembers. As soft and warm as the moment he’s been replaying in his head since last Monday.

You both break apart but he doesn’t move away from your face, hand dropping from your cheek to your bouncing knee where he gives it a gentle squeeze, “Are you nervous?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “I think maybe, yeah. But I’m excited, too. Y’know, to spend the day with you.”

It’s his turn to feel giddy and embarrassed, a flush building steadily on the apples of his cheeks, “If it makes you feel any better, I’m nervous, too. But it’s just gonna be a nice, chill day, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod, both of you wearing matching smiles.

“I do have a rule, though,” his brows furrow, implying he’s serious. You look very seriously back at him.

“I gotta kiss you every time you’re startin’a look a little too good,” he gives you a shrug of one shoulder before settling back into the driver’s seat while he pulls onto the road, “Cause I don’t know if you saw, but the way you look this morning is fucking illegal.”

You let out a soft tsss from between your teeth, shaking your head while you settle back into your seat, “You’re so stupid.”

“I’m just a man, sugar,” he tilts his head, readjusting behind the wheel before putting the car back in drive. He restarts the song before pulling onto the road, feeling like maybe this errands date would go much, much better than he’d planned. He drums on the steering wheel again, head softly bouncing along with the beat of the song while the lyrics scream through the car. You mouth along with them, staring out the window while you do.

‘Those cold hooks, cemetery claws raking at the infant's jaws,Set fire to the horse on fire,Set fire to the dress on fire,Set fire to the stage on fire,Set fire to the stars on fire!’

“Damn, me and the band shoulder cover this,” he nods to himself, “We’d fuckin’ crush.”

“Can you scream like that?” you ask, turning your head to face him, “I feel like I’d blow my vocal chords.”

“Eh, sorta kinda,” he tilts his head from side to side, “I got plenty of practice. Do plenty of screaming with our own stuff, you sorta train your voice up to do it. I might not be able to scream as high but, I could harmonize with Jeff – lead guitar if you remember –” “I remember,” you smile, “And his wife Alycia.”

“And is wife Alycia! Damn, look at you,” he smiles, “You should write my memoirs. But yeah, surprisingly Jeff can get pretty high up there – it’s super impressive.”

“Well when you cover it, I’ll come watch,” you nod, “You still haven’t really told me about your band.”

“Corroded Coffin?” he asks, turning into a coffee shop drive-thru and pulling up behind a short line of cars, “Not much to tell. We play shows every couple weeks, in the summer every week, at a few bars around the city that are into that scene. We have fun – still play at our old stomping grounds in Hawkins, too. Same five drunks cheering us on for the last twelve years.”

His eyes widen at the realization, “Twelve years, Jesus. I’m so fuckin’ old.”

“Oh, thank god I only have two years until I’m fuckin’ old,” you laugh, “You don’t look old.”

“You don’t look old either,” he smiles, giving you a once over that you immediately feel shy under, “What can I get you?”

“Oh no, no,” you shake your head, reaching for your wallet in your Old Navy bag, “I’ll get it, seriously. You’re driving me.”

“No, please, I’ll get it,” he says, pushing your hand down gently while you offer your card.

“I wanna pay for it, you’re already going out of your way to do all this boring shit,” you offer again. He plucks your card from your fingers and flicks it into the backseat. He shrinks when your smile falls, you’re very obviously not taken by his actions.

“Look,” he shrugs, voice lowering, “I didn’t wanna say anything cause I didn’t know how you’d react. But this location actually doesn’t accept money from women. I know, crazy right? So sexist. Its so gross of me to still go here when it’s totally against all my shit. But since they don’t accept any payments from women, I’m gonna have to pay or else we can’t get coffee.”

You roll your eyes but can’t hold back your laugh, “Fuck, why do you have to be funny about it?”

“You think I’m funny, huh?” he grins, pulling up to the microphone box.

“Yeah, funny lookin’,” you tease. Eddie ‘tsks’ a few times with a shake of his head, looking back at you.

“What can I get you?” he asks again.

“Medium, iced, caramel. Almond milk if they have it, regular if not,” you respond, crossing your arms. He orders and can feel your eyes on him, he wants to turn back around and kiss that pout right off your lips. You’re not used to having someone take care of things and he can tell, you don’t like it either. Or at least you don’t know how to let yourself like it. Two givers stuck in a car running errands with each other – he wonders if you’ve ever known how to take.

He gets the coffees, yours with your milk and flavor, his iced and black. You say thank you when you take it, there’s something about your face when you do, a softness he feels like he’s not supposed to see.

“Hey, you know my rule,” he says, leaning in again, “You’re startin’ to look at little too good right now.”

Your embarrassed smile says enough when you close the gap between the two of you, lips pressing together in a soft and gentle peck.

“Thank you,” he expresses, big brown eyes looking into yours before pulling back onto the streets. He turns the sound system up again, the opening of Cam’ron’s Hey Ma flows through the speakers, he nods enthusiastically.

“Another banger,” he exclaims.

“You know this song?” you ask with surprise.

“I grew up in a trailer park, baby. You hear a lot of different music out there,” he shrugs. Eddie feels his throat choke up when he realizes he called you baby. But at least if you hated it, you weren’t showing any sign that you did.

“Got drops. Got coupes. Got trucks. Got jeeps. Alright, 'cause we gon' take a ride tonight So ma. Wassup? Let's slide. Alright. Alright, and we gon' get it on tonight.” He likes that you’re impressed that he knows the words, of course he does. He grew up hearing this song all of summer 2002, running through the hose with the little kids, while his old baby sitters sat out in lawn chairs to work on their color. Playboy Bunny stickers on their hip bones to show off their tan lines.

You both sing the opening verse to the windshield, windows coming down an inch as you turn onto the parkway, voices booming over Juelz Sanatana’s.

“Now I was down town clubbin’, ladies night, Seen shorty she was crazy right, And I approached baby like, ‘Ma, what’s your age and type?’ She looked at me and said, ‘Yous a baby right?’” He hits the last red light before the long stretch of the drive, turning to you to deliver a passionate line reading of the lyrics. He’s surprisingly smooth, even impressing himself at how actually cool he’s being about it.

“I told her, I’m eighteen and live a crazy life, Plus I’ll tell you what the 80s like, and I know what the ladies like, Need a man that’s polite, listens and takes advice. I can be all three, plus I can lay the pipe. Come with me, come stay the night.”

He winks when he finishes the line and by the way you stop singing, he knows he’s got you flustered. You are easy. He wants to see how much easier it is.

“You better be careful,” you warn, tongue caught between your teeth. “Yeah? I better be careful?” he grins, car pushing forward when the light changes so he can turn onto the highway.

“You’re trouble, Munson,” you shake your head, turning your attention back to the stretch of asphalt ahead of the both of you, “You’re big trouble.”

“She looked at me laughin’ like, ‘Boy your game is tight.’ I’m laughin’ back like, ‘Sure, you’re right.’”

“D’you need a cart?” Eddie asks, taking a side step over to the push carts neatly pushed into each other in between the double doors of Target.

“Nah, if I get a cart I’m just gonna use it as an excuse to buy more stuff,” you pull a face, shoulders dropping dramatically, “And while I’d love to have an excuse to buy more stuff, I just need a basket.” “Basket it is,” he grins, hand wrapping over the hard plastic of one of the handles, tugging a basket loose from where it’s encased with its brothers. You reach your hand out, taking a step closer to the entrance, our step triggers the automatic doors and he files in after you.

He looks at your outstretched hand behind you and then up at your face, “I can hold it, Ed.”

He gives you a small shake of his head, “Nah, I’ll carry it. You lead the way. What’s on your list?” “I mostly just need to get travel stuff…like toiletries,” you think out loud, “I guess this wasn’t really much of a big errand now that I think about it.”

“That’s okay,” he says, and he means it.

You don’t go straight to the beauty section. You’re taken by the $5 and under shelves at the front of the store, full of small decor knick knacks that he recognizes from his own apartment. This is where Tati’s always picking up those little gold tchotchkes for the coffee table and bookshelves every other month. The same way Chrissy would always have new, tiny holiday themed pieces every year to sneak onto their mantle.

“So, do you want me to keep you on task?” he asks, falling in step next to you, watching your fingers toy over a felted bunny figurine for Easter, “Or do you want me to aid in you not being on task?”

You look over at him, eyes scanning over his frame. He catches the way your eyes linger on the way his t-shirt fits him under his leather jacket and denim vest. Dark olive green, a touch too tight in the chest, collar worn out just enough so that the ends of his collar bones peeked through.

“We have all day, right?” you smirk.

“All day,” he nods, “You a walking through the aisles type of girl?”

“Is that a deal breaker?” you ask, attention captivated by a lavender ceramic pencil holder in the shape of a rainbow.

“No, not at all,” he assures, taking you by surprise when he presses a kiss to your temple, “I’m a walking through the aisles type of guy.”

“Was I looking a little too good while perusing the five dollar shelf?” you tease while you move onward into the store, stopping to thumb through a rack of jeans.

“Well that’s the thing,” he says with a tilt of his head, “You’re always lookin’ a little too good.”

He hums when you roll your eyes, “Hmm. How’d I know that was coming?”

“Why’re you so nice to me all the time, huh?” you fake argue, bored with looking at clothes and taking deliberate steps towards home goods to the bath section. Eddie hurries to keep up, basket clicking and clacking in his hand.

“I guess I can be mean to you, but I feel like that would make me a shitty date,” he jokes back, “And an even worse Uber driver.”

“So true, actually. Zero stars,” you nod, running your hand over a towel that matches the color of his shirt, “Y’know green’s a really good color for you? Makes your eyes pop.”

“Oh…” he can feel himself turning red when you say that. So she’s been looking at my eyes? Is she always secretly sort of checking me out the way I’m always secretly sort of checking her out? Does she think I’m cute or something? Why am I trying to propose to her right now? Is it ‘cause we’re looking at towels?

“Um, thank you. I’ll um, I’ll wear it more often,” he runs a hand over his face while you continue to look at towels, turning the corner to look at the fancier ones. You laugh at his jittery response, not so much at him, not teasing, but – this guy covered in tattoos, stomping in combat boots, definitely has a knife in his back pocket, chains dangling down the side of his pants, is blushing bright red just because you said he looks good in green. This guy?

“You should,” you encourage, turning to see his reddened face, “What happened to not being nervous?”

“That’s a rule for you,” he says, walking a few steps ahead of you. His eyes catch on a soap dispenser, it’s the same one he had in the master bathroom back with Chris, “I can be as nervous as I want.”

“Ah, I see, rules for thee, not for me,” you nod slowly.

“See! Now you’re getting it,” he says over his shoulder. He reaches his free hand back toward you, eyes meeting yours, tossing you a smile when you look at his hand and back at him, “Yeah, I want you to hold it.”

When your fingers slide in to lace with his he realizes his hands are a little sweaty. They weren’t last time you saw him, with your hand cradled in between his on his knee at the bar. He was a couple drinks in then, not forced to face the action fully. Not aware enough to realize he was holding a pretty girl’s hand in public on a domestic date and all he can think about is railing you in the backseat of his Honda Civic and also making a mental note of all the color choices you like so when you eventually move in together he already knows what you — Jesus fucking Christ you have soft hands. You guide him through the rest of the bathroom section, stopping briefly to consider whether or not you need more hand towels for your apartment and then shaking it off. He let’s you take him around the corner to mattress covers, you talk about your Casper mattress and how you still aren’t sure if you really like it two years later. He hears himself respond in a fog but he’s caught up on how right it feels to be here with you, to be holding your hand, holding your Target basket for you, listening to you talk about whatever.

You get to bedding and stop at the throws, Eddie’s fog lifts when you let go of his hand to take one of them off the shelf. A dark green knitted blanket replaces his hand, folded up neat and tidy in its wrap-around casing.

“This is so perfect for my living room,” you murmur to yourself, “It’s so cute.”

Eddie leans against the shelf while you let your senses absorb the knit: touch, sight, smell. You peer at the other colors, unhappy with the rest, balancing the blanket on your hip while you look back at the empty spot where it once sat. Your eyes roll again, shoulders slumping for real this time.

“Not seventy five dollars cute,” you grumble, putting the blanket back on the shelf.

“Seventy five dollars?” he asks, aghast, brown eyes rounding in surprise, “What, did they shear the sheep here or something?”

“That’s capitalism for ya,” you click your tongue, giving the blanket one last look with a little pout, “Oh well, I’m sure I can find a dupe or something at TJ Maxx.”

“M’sorry, sweetheart,” he consoles, taking your hand back and giving it an apologetic squeeze.

“Sweetheart…” you repeat back, “That’s cute.”

“That’s cute? Okay,” he smiles down at the tile under his feet, teeth showing, “I’ll keep note of that.”

You both continue your journey through bedding, crossing through the Hearth & Hand showcase where he listens to you gripe about how you swear it’s a scam. None of this shit should be this expensive. Like, I could get all this shit at H&M Home online for twenty dollars less. What, just cause they’re on TV? Frickin’ ridiculous. He still stands by thinking that you’re cute when you’re mad. He can’t let go of your hand. He doesn’t even care that you’re both so far from travel toiletries, that you likely forgot why you were even here. He just likes this, being in Target with you, holding your hand while you yell about something.

“Oh, hold on, I gotta look at these,” you squeeze his hand before you let go again, walking ahead of him while Matchbox Twenty’s 3AM fades into Des’ree’s You Gotta Be.

“Decorative wicker baskets?” he asks, stepping back to look at the wall of wicker baskets of all sizes in the back of the store.

“I need two for under my dresser,” you say, reaching up to grab one and looking at the tag for the dimensions, “S’for my socks and stuff.”

He tosses you a look and you look back at him, “Don’t ask.”

You get lost in the task, two stepping with a little sway to your hips, small movements. You sing along to the song while you pull one basket down and put it back, and so on. You gotta be cool, you gotta be calm, you gotta stay together. You aren’t mocking him when you sing along but the lyrics feel like they are. You’re so into it, too. He guesses this is what you’re like when no one’s around to watch you. How unfortunate that you’re so kissable even when you think no one is around to see it.

“Hey,” he says, putting the basket down, “What did I say about looking too good?”

“What?” you turn around, eyes rounded, almost startled, “Am I taking too long?”

“No,” he says with a furrow of his brow, approaching you gently while he crosses into your personal space. His voice drops a little lower, lips lingering close to yours, “No baby, not at all. Just looking really cute over here.”

You can’t help but feel girlish when he’s like this, giggling while heat floods your cheeks and chest.

“C’mere,” he whispers, pressing you back with his body so you’re flush with the shelves against the wall. His nose brushes yours, fingers finding your chin to tilt you up toward him where his mouth can taste you and you can taste him. He starts slow, just a test, shrouded in the lower light of the back decorative basket aisle, lips parting slightly to see if you’ll match it. He puffs a small breath against the ridge of your upper lip and it’s enough to send you into a frenzy. His body presses close up against you, kiss gaining fervor, hands coming up to cup around your cheek and neck to guide you with him

“Wait, wait,” you gasp, breaking away, “We’re gonna get in trouble.”

“You think I’m scared of getting in trouble?” he clicks his tongue before grinning at you. Looks like you don’t do trouble. His lips ghost over yours, skating softly over your cheek to get to your ear, “I’ve been gettin’ kicked out of Targets since 2007, sweetheart.”

His teeth graze your ear lobe, your hands reaching to clutch the soft leather of his jacket, a small sigh puffs out of you. He’s not sure if it’s pushing it, but the aisle is empty, and whatever he’s doing, he’s pretty sure you like it – his lips drop from your earlobe to the edge of your jaw, settling on a slow, wet open mouth kiss on your neck before meeting your mouth again.

“Ed,” you mumble quietly, “I can’t be turned on at Target.”

“Yes you can,” he giggles, stealing another gentle kiss from you.

“Uh…hey folks,” a timid voice calls from the end of the aisle. You both break away, embarrassment clearly taking you over while you cover your face in your hands. A younger guy in a red t-shirt and khaki slacks waves awkwardly when he has both of your attention.

“Sorry to uh, to interrupt but, um – y’know, this is a family friendly store and we just – yeah, I’m sorry. You’re not in trouble or anything,” he offers, stumbling over his words.

“Thanks man,” Eddie says genuinely, giving him a wave back, “Sorry about that, just uh, caught up in the moment I guess. Baskets really do it for her, y’know?”

The guy nods, walking away when a small thwap of the back of your hand hits his chest.

“You’re so fucking annoying,” you laugh, changing your voice to mock him, “Baskets really do it for her. Fuck all the way off.”

Eddie laughs with you, picking up the Target basket and placing it in your hand, “Look, I gotta pee so bad. Do you think you can man the aisles yourself while I go and take care of that?”

You nod, “Just text me when you’re done and I’ll tell you where I am, okay?”

“Cool,” he nods back, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek, “See you in a bit.”

hey, where are you at? easter stuff, i got distracted very godly of you

He bustles through the aisles, realizing now that you’re on the totally opposite side of the store than you were before. He spots you where all the candy is, your basket full of your toiletries. “Easter candy?” he asks.

“It’s the best holiday candy, easily,” you confess, “I know people will probably say Halloween since that’s the candy holiday, but dude, there’s something about Cadbury eggs.”

“Yeah?” he reaches out and takes the basket out of your hand gently, you don’t protest when he does, “Isn’t it supposed to be from the UK? Don’t they have better chocolate by proxy?”

“I think so,” you agree while Eddie strolls a little further down the aisle, “Have you ever had them?”

“I’m sure I have,” he says, fingers tracing over a chocolate bunny in a box, “I guess I’m more of a Halloween guy.”

“Boring,” you sing, holding two small bags of Cadbury eggs in your hands. Eddie holds the basket in front of him while you gear up to toss one in.

“Kobe!” you shout, the candy leaving your fingers in a lay up toss, floating through the air only to fall at Eddie’s feet on the tile.

“Too soon,” Eddie shakes his head solemnly, reaching down to grab the chocolate and put it in the red basket in his arm, “How’re you gonna call out a legend’s name and then miss?”

“I feel like you moved it so that I’d miss,” you accuse playfully.

“I kept it exactly where it was, I think you’re just not very good at basketball,” he says, making his way towards you. You put the other bag in with the rest of your stuff and look up at him through half lidded eyes. He matches your gaze while he looks at you.

“You just don’t wanna see me be great,” you tease.

“Oh, stop,” he tutts, “You’re very great.”

Neither of you can help but kiss again. It feels natural to do it at this point.

“You get everything you need to get?” he asks against your lips. You nod, a little ‘mhm’ squeaks out of your throat, “Good, cause they can’t yell at us for making out in the parking lot. So we should head out of here soon.”

The remainder of the errands and lunch go by like a blur to him. Saturday meant busy restaurants so instead you opted for fast food in the parking lot, starting the drive home sharing Wendy’s waffle fries over the center console.

Before you pull out of the lot, he flicks your music on again, opting to just leave it on shuffle because he feels like he learns you better that way. What’s going to come up next that’ll surprise him? What’s he gonna find out about you?

‘Baby, I know you’re hurting, Right now you feel like you could never love again. Now all I ask, is for a chance, to prove, That I love you.’

Eddie barks out a laugh, takes a sip of his Sprite, and then laughs again, “Oh shit. I haven’t heard this song in years!”

“You know this song, too?” you ask, surprised again at his music repertoire.

“You really don’t think I’m cultured, do you?” he jokes, “I have a deep affinity for the Backstreet Boys, though I will admit I was an NSYNC boy myself growing up.”

“Of course,” you murmur with an eye roll, “What’s your favorite NSYNC song?”

“Ooh, let me see,” he thinks while he turns onto the highway, “Definitely Drive Myself Crazy. I’d always try to hit JC’s runs.”

“You knew their names too?”

“I told you already, I grew up in a trailer park. I had the same babysitter from two to eleven,” he explains, “Mrs. Grandy watched me until her daughter Summer turned thirteen and then I’d go and pal around with her and her friends. I was like her little brother, I practically lived there.”

“Were you always there?” you ask, “At your babysitter’s house?”

“Yeah. My uh, my mom died when I was seven but she was always working and tryna stay out of the house when my dad came home so I was always at the sitters. He’s y’know – he’s in jail but he was in and out of it when I was a kid, too. Got arrested for beating on her a couple months before she died and my uncle moved up from North Carolina to take care of me. But he worked nights so – if I wasn’t at school I had to have someone watch me while he slept and then someone had to be at the trailer while I slept. It was way easier when I was in school – but anyway – wow – off topic there – yes, I spent a lot of time with my babysitter and her mom,” he finishes.

“I’m sorry,” you offer, reaching over to give his knee a reassuring squeeze.

“No, don’t be. It’s okay. I’m okay – I turned out pretty cool, I think,” he shrugs.

“You’re really cool,” you smile, Eddie smiles back.

“What’s your favorite Backstreet Boys song?” he asks.

“Hey Mr. DJ, easy,” you tell him, “It’s the most fucknasty song they’ve ever made and it still holds up. Like, I want it played at my wedding. I’m trying to make a child to that song.”

Eddie loses it at fucknasty, head falling back on the headrest while his chest bounces, “The most fucknasty song? We’ll have to play that next.”

“You won’t be disappointed,” you say, “AJ sings it and he was my favorite.”

“Oh, baby, that does not surprise me at all,” he grins. Calling you baby sounds comfortable now, even after just talking for a week. He’s not sure how fast or slow these things are supposed to go, but your little smile every time he says it makes him wanna say it more.

“I saw them in concert, when I was like, nine or ten or something,” Eddie says, “For their Millenium Tour – was when I Want It That Way was huge.”

“You got tickets?” you ask, a teasing grin splitting your face.

“Summer was a huge Backstreet Boys and NYSNC fan, like, posters all over her room. Had every magazine they were in that she could find, everything. So all we would do when she would watch me was listen to them and talk about them, so I liked them because she liked them and I thought she was cool,” he starts.

“So anyway, she finds out on the radio that they’re giving away tickets to a show in Columbus – cause like, no one fucking comes to Indiana to play shows – and she calls in and wins! She literally went into shock. But we ended up going and she brought me instead of her friend because she was like ‘Mom, he’s family’. Which as an adult, makes me fucking melt y’know? But as a kid I was like ‘Damn you’re gonna drag me to Ohio to see a boy band? I wanna see Tool.’”

“Not Tool!” you laugh.

“But it was cool cause we got to stay in a hotel for a night and all that other shit. It felt really special, her mom got us t-shirts which I’m sure cost her a fortune but – damn. I had a lot of fun.”

“It sounds like you did.”

“The most crazy thing though – which I’ve never told anyone so, I hope you feel special – was when I saw them perform, I thought like, ‘Wow, I wanna do this when I grow up.’ So in a way, if it wasn’t for the Backstreet Boys, I would’ve never realized I wanted to be a rockstar,” he confesses, “And I mean, obviously I was really into rock, and metal, and folk-punk stuff ‘cause of Wayne, but seeing those guys on stage? Everyone screaming? I was like ‘Damn, I wanna be up there! I wanna be shredding up there!’”

“I love that,” you reply, a warm smile spread across your face while you watch him relive the memory in his head.

He shrugs, “It was a cool dream to have but, I don’t know. That ship has long sailed.”

“What do you mean? Long sailed? You can still be a rockstar,” you argue, a fry crunching soft between your teeth.

He shakes his head, slight defeat caressing his tone, “No I can’t. I’m too old now.”

“Too old? Shut up,” you assert through a mouthful of waffle fry, “Metallica’s still out there playing. Iron Maiden is literally on tour right now. And they’re all like – in their sixties for fuck’s sake.”

“Okay?” he huffs back, the red from the hazard lights of the car in front of you flashes against his face, “And? They all got famous when they were like, twenty or younger. I’m fucking…thirty-two.”

“Exactly! You’re only thirty-two,” you exclaim while he rolls to a stop at a red light. Your hand reaches out to squeeze his arm, “You have so much time. You can literally be a rockstar whenever.”

Eddie’s chest gets tight when you say that – it had been a while since he heard that type of encouragement. He’d missed the feeling of someone cheering him on from the bar while he was on stage, Chrissy’s praise when they’d get home. Wayne calling to tell him he saw a review of their set in the paper. Lately the shows felt sad to him, he felt lonely, even though he was always the happiest when he could make it on that stage.

“You can’t be saying shit like that to me,” he says knowingly, maneuvering his arm so that he can take your hand in his.

“Why not?” you ask, your voice holding a hint of sullenness that breaks his heart. He kisses your knuckles before resting his and your hand on your thigh, the light changing to green.

“‘Cause you’re gonna make me fall in love with you.” Your eyes cast down at his hand on your thigh, your smile tight, stretching painfully across your cheeks, “Oh, okay. I’ll be meaner if that’s not what you’re going for.”

“It’s definitely what I’m going for,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand softly.

The mood in the car shifts to comfortable silence, I’ll Never Break Your Heart fading out into the opening croons of Leon Bridges’ Coming Home. You lean your head on the window, looking at the cars passing you on the highway, the light flecks of rain hitting the glass as the car keeps its speed. Eddie lets go of your hand, palm stretching over the mass of your thigh, running soothingly up and down on your leggings. His thumb rubs soft and slow over the outside of your quad, he just wants to touch you. It’s a comforting touch, no implications other than – I like being here with you right now.

‘The world leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, girl. You're the only one that I want, Wanna be around. Wanna be around, girl, Wanna be around, girl, Ooh, wanna be around, girl...’

“I like this,” Eddie says, his voice soft, “Who is this?”

“Leon Bridges,” you answer, “The whole album is so good. It honestly sounds even better on vinyl.”

“I was just about to say, I bet it sounds great on vinyl,” he enthuses, “I like the old timey vibe.”

“It’s cozy, right?” you ask.

“Very cozy,” he nods, tossing a look over to you. Your eyes are heavy lidded, breath steady in your chest, “You gettin’ sleepy?”

“Kinda,” you yawn, “You’re not boring me or anything, I promise.”

“That’s okay,” he offers you a soft pat on the thigh, returning back to the slow back and forth that was putting you to sleep, “We’ll be home soon-ish, just take a nap.”

You frown, “You sure? Am I being lame?”

“Nah, you’re not being lame,” he assures. Your eyes flutter closed, the warm cascade of his hand continues while they do.

After a long stretch of highway, Eddie turns the car into your part of town, a sadness washing over him that he has to drop you off and then go home to his apartment for the remainder of this rainy evening. For a flicker of a moment he wants to be selfish and ask if you wanna just kick it at his house, but he knows you have stuff to do before this trip. Envy seeps into his sadness that your boss gets to spend so much time with you, gets to watch you laugh, gets to watch you solve problems, gets to watch you do anything all day. Is it healthy to feel like this so quickly? I don’t know her like that, he wonders, Is it that sort of thing where like, if you know you know? Or am I being kind of insane right now?

“What’d I miss?” you ask, rising from your mini-nap in the car. You frown when you see your surroundings, so much closer to home than you hoped.

“A few showtunes and Mariah’s Vision of Love,” he says, your sleepy voice tugging on his heart and lips, “I’m partial to My All but that’s cause I’m a professional sad boy.”

“My All is on there, but it’s probably good I was out for Vision of Love – you didn’t have to hear me screlting it in the small confines of this car,” you laugh.

“Do you sing?” he asks. You shake your head no.

“I did musicals in high school, as you can see by the showtunes,” you explain, “But I wouldn’t call myself much of a singer.”

“I’m sure I’ll find out if that’s true sooner or later,” he offers. It’s part way through Good Charlotte’s Girls & Boys, volume low so he didn’t disturb you sleeping.

“This song makes me laugh,” you say, he feels your hand find his, still sitting firm on your lap. You play with his rings, twirling them around his fingers, he swallows hard.

“Like, so many songs that came out around this time, even a couple years after – now they just sound like women’s empowerment.”

“Tell me more,” he says, turning onto your street, the ache creeping back up again.

“Like, ‘Girls don’t like boys, girls like cars and money.’ Is that supposed to be a dig? Of course I like cars and money – I’m a person. ‘Paper or plastic, don’t matter, she’ll have it.’ Like it’s a bad thing! Sounds like she’s thriving, he’s paying for everything and she didn’t even ask him to, she’s just sitting there looking hot!” you continue, “Sounds like a dream to be honest!”

“Yeah!” he nods, mulling it over in his head, “Fuckin’ – good for her!”

“I’m happy for her!” you laugh, he laughs with you. It’s nice to laugh so much with you, he likes that you’re sort of goofy in your own right. He pulls up to your house, pulling in to park in front of the walk way. Both of your laughs quiet down, you both look at the house through your window and the air in the car changes.

“I don’t wanna go,” you frown, shoulders slumping, “I wanna keep hanging out.”

“I know,” he says gently, “I wanna keep hanging out, too – but you got stuff you need to get ready for tomorrow.”

“I know,” you scrunch your nose, “So stupid.”

“So stupid,” he agrees, “How dumb that you have to go to a really cool expo where the weather’s nice.” “Well when you put it like that,” you say with a tilt of your head and a smile.

“Let me get your stuff out of the trunk,” he offers, getting out of the car into the smattering of rain. He pops the trunk and grabs your bags, coming over to your side to open your door for you.

“Here,” he says, offering you your toiletries, Old Navy exchange (and a few other purchases), and a Sephora bag with definitely more than just your boss’s sunscreen in it. You thank him and lean in for a kiss but he grins, turning away from you to go back to the trunk, “Sorry, forgot a bag.”

He reappears with the trunk closes, another Target bag in his hands that he passes to you. The weight reveals what it is before you look, but you peek to be sure, “Ed…”

“I didn’t really have to pee,” he confesses, “You just really liked it and you looked so sad when you put it back so, you know, I just wanted to do something nice.”

“It’s really nice,” you smile, looking down at the green Casaluna blanket nestled in the bag, “I just don’t want to like…feel like I owe you something.”

“No, no, no,” he hurriedly shakes his head, “Please don’t feel like that. This really was just like – it’s not like a power move or anything I’m not like that, I promise – I don’t want anything in return, seriously.”

“Except maybe a picture when it’s all set up nice in your living room,” he grins. Your eye rolls make his heart flutter because so far, you always kiss him after you do it and this time is no exception.

“I’ll see you when I come back,” you say, wincing as the rain starts to pick up. “You act like you’re going to war, sugar,” he teases, “Like you’re not gonna text me in five minutes.”

“Ew, bye,” you scowl, giving him a peck before hustling up the walkway to find refuge on the covered porch.

“Bye,” he calls out, bottom lip tucking between his teeth in the afterglow of another good date. He gets back in the car and waits for you to get in safely before driving away towards his own apartment. At a red light, his phone goes off, just five minutes since he’s pulled away. He opens his texts, a full belly laugh barking from his mouth. it looks great in my living room. oh shit it’s only been five minutes. 😡 fuck you.

By day two of your trip, Eddie was already homesick for you. Savoring every message you could send his way when you weren’t busy, but also trying his best not to text you back immediately so he didn’t seem needy. Or worse, desperate. He liked it the most when you’d send pictures: big pink quartz bathtubs, amethyst arm chairs, huge chunks of malachite that were the size of his hand.

these would make cool dice for d&d, right? the coolest. you should buy that and then hand carve the dice for me. let me pull a grand out of my ass real quick so i can get to work on that. so needy. oh, so you miss me? of course i do :) i miss you, too :)

“So when’re we gonna meet your mystery girlfriend?” Robin asks, swirling her rum and coke with her straw, “Or does she go to a different school in Canada that we wouldn’t know about?”

Steve snickers with Robin, two mean girls who always mean girl together. It was a Tuesday, which meant Robin and Steve would meet up for Happy Hour at a bar near Nancy’s office for the paper and then bother everyone else to come meet them until everyone showed up. The three sat at the corner of the bar, Steve in the center in his business casual. Patagonia vest over his blue button up, hair perfectly windswept with his sunglasses tucked into his t-shirt collar. Picture perfect finance bro with his mean lesbian guard dog to bark at any woman who might hurt his feelings. Eddie was convinced that if Robin wasn’t gay, they would’ve gotten married the day that they met.

“Well she’s not my girlfriend yet, for one,” Eddie starts, defensively, “And if you wanna know if she’s real, here’s her Instagram.”

He passes his phone to Robin who swipes through your photos with a nod, a smile pulling across her face, “Not bad at all, Munson.”

“Let me see,” Steve demands with a slight whine, plucking the phone from her hand. He scrolls, a touch of a salacious smirk spreading across his face, “Oh, smash. Immediately smash.” Steve passes Eddie’s phone back to him on the table, screen open to a risque picture of you on the beach, “You didn’t fuck?”

“Not yet, Harrington,” Eddie sighs, “I’ll be sure to let you know the moment I slip it in, okay?”

“I’m just saying,” Steve shrugs, “I would’ve fucked her already.”

“Yeah, we know loverboy,” Robin teases. Eddie’s shoulders tense a little because if Steve wanted you, he’d definitely be able to take you. He’s hot and charismatic, he has more money than he knows what to do with, and at the end of the day – Steve loves women. All kinds of women. Eddie swore Steve would leave college with a taste for thin blondes that were in his frat’s sister sorority but every night it was someone new. And every night, Steve Harrington got what Steve Harrington wanted.

“Tell her to follow me,” Steve winks.

“It’s the first thing I did when I met her, actually – told her to follow you,” Eddie jokes back.

what’re you doing? happy hour with the group. well right now just rob and steve but everyone else is on the way. fun! i bought a new bathing suit at a vendor because i have bad impulse control. also look at these cool rocks. oh, sick – what kind are they? the vendor said they’re ocean jasper do you want one? will you get a matching one with me? also linger is playing at the bar right now and it’s…making me think about you? stupid as hell. absolutely will get us matching ones. i love that song. who said you could be this cute? pretty sure i did. steve says hi by the way, he’s ‘linger’ing over my shoulder. lmao you’re so corny “Is she gonna send you a picture of her in the bathing suit or not?” he asks impatiently. “She’s still working, man,” Eddie flips his phone over so the screen can’t be seen, “And even if she does, I’m not gonna show it to you.” “Yeah, don’t be such a perv Steve,” Robin sasses, “Get me another rum and coke instead.”

After an hour, the rest of the group has made it and Eddie’s had three beers in a short span of time. Not enough alcohol to feel drunk, but enough alcohol that he keeps getting lost in the thought of your thighs on that barstool last week. The little overflow of your tummy in your jeans, your hips, what you might look like out of those jeans. What sounds you might’ve made if he went to your house after Target and he peeled those leggings off you. You’re busy and he’s bummed out about it only because he selfishly wishes you were here at happy hour instead of looking at cool rocks. “You look so sad right now,” Tatianna says from across the table the group has gathered round, “You miss your girl?”

Eddie pouts dramatically, nodding, “I do.” “Guys this is the one, I’ve never seen him like this before,” Tatianna grins, “He’s down bad.”

Tati reaches next to her to hold hands with Gareth giving it a squeeze, “Hinge is the truth, I’m telling you.”

“I mean, you sure? He thought Chris was the one and look how that turned out,” Mike says from the other end. Everyone sighs and groans, whines of ‘C’mon Wheeler,’ sound out of a few of them.

“When you know, you know, kid,” Gareth offers softly, “And I think Ed knows.”

“When’re we gonna meet this girl who likes your nerdy ass?” Erica giggles next to him. “Exactly what I was saying earlier,” Steve adds.

“I don’t think you need to meet her, Steve,” Dustin laughs, “Let him have something, for God’s sake.” “Well,” Nancy starts, “I mean, Steve’s party at Barcade is next week. Might be a good sort of low stakes way to ease her in.”

“That’s actually such a good idea,” Tatianna agrees.

“But I have the jazz concert for my kids that night,” Eddie sulks.

“Yeah but that ends at like, eight thirty,” she argues, “You should tell her to come. We’ll take care of her before you show up.” “I’ll take realgood care of her, Munson,” Steve grins.

“Steve.”

Eddie’s head is down on his forearms so he doesn’t know how many people started scolding Harrington over his head. This was overwhelming again – this part. Eddie thought maybe all the fussing over starting to date would be the worst but now it’s every day that they ask about you. At least twice a day in the group chat – Your girl coming to D&D? How was your date last weekend? Is she with you right now? Tell her we all said hi. Are you gonna bring her to Tati’s art show?

He doesn’t have all the answers yet and he doesn’t know where you’re at either. Do you want to meet his friends? Would you even like them?

Everyone yelling at Steve is satisfying, but it would be cooler if you were here to see it.

The following night he was up late grading papers he should’ve graded a week ago but he was too caught up in his personal life to care. Conversation with you had dwindled quickly last night as he spent more time at the bar and ended up planning the next campaign. You hadn’t reached out at all today and he felt too proud to be the one to text you first, a twinge of resentment plucking at his heart strings in his chest. Hollow loneliness drumming at his ribcage.

The papers were graded, neatly stacked and put away in his bag for tomorrow, red pen capped and put back on his desk. Eddie groans as he stands up to stretch, peeling off his t-shirt and slipping off his sweatpants, tossing them haphazardly in the corner of the room by his hamper. He kicks off his socks, finally comfortable in his boxers and silver chain, before trudging down to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He comes back to a quiet buzz on his phone, screen glowing to life while he swipes it off his dresser.

hey, sorry i was so MIA today. things got really busy and hectic, surprise zoom meeting with bloomingdale’s and then a second surprise offer call with bergdorf goodman and then a few vendors wanted to get dinner and schmooze. it’s no excuse honestly but i should’ve messaged you to let you know i was busy. i’m sorry, handsome :( thought about you all day if that helps

Eddie’s heart leaps in his chest, cheeks already hurting from the smile splitting his face open. You thought about him all day. You thought about him all day. The same way he thinks about you all day. He climbs into bed, snuggling in under the covers with the glow of his phone illuminating his grinning face in the dark.

don’t apologize, sweetheart, i know you’re busy. glad that your hectic day is over at least, now you can relax! thought about you all day, too. one of my kids kept trying to play juicy by doja cat on the sax at jazz practice, so you came to mind immediately. LMAO. i’ll take that as a compliment. what’re you doing up so late? grading papers, but i’m done now. i’d ask why you’re up so late but it’s only nine thirty there. what’re you up to? trying this bathing suit on, finally. do you wanna see it?

“Do I wanna see it?” he murmurs, exasperated with an eye roll to no one, “Of course I wanna see it.”

yeah, show me :)

He waits with bated breath, trying his best to swipe out of the text conversation and do something else instead of counting the minutes until you reply. His heart hammers in his chest while he waits for the familiar buzz in his hand.

And there you are, dark red spandex hugging you tight, cinching you in all the right places. His eyes linger on the high cut of the bottom, the way some of the pudge of your hips pokes out at the seams and he bites his lip. ‘Fuck,’ he mumbles quietly. Your thighs on full display for him, thick and begging for him to grab, you’re so fucking grabbable he can’t even stand it.

jfc you know what you’re doing whaaaaat? what do you mean? ‘what do you meaaaannn 🤪’ you know what i mean. do you not like it? i like it a little too much you wanna see it from the back?

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters into the darkness. He feels the blood rush to his pelvis like an army command, cock partially at attention while his hand palms delicately over his boxers.

of course i do

He gulps when the picture comes in, you posed like that on purpose. One ass cheek propped up on the bathroom counter, the other lifted and perky from your stance. The soft rolls of your back on display from how you’re turned to still have your pretty face in frame. He’d fucking wreck you. Lovingly, of course.

do you want me to hop on a flight or?? how much are tickets to az? i’m about to come thru. you got enough blood in your brain to make that trip rn? lmao you know i don’t 😏 sorry i’m all the way in a different state, i’d help take care of it.

“Yeah?” he chokes out, palming turning to full slow strokes over the fabric, “You wanna take care of it for me?”

yeah? you’d take care of it? only if you asked nicely :)

“Fuck,” he whispers, tossing his phone down to reach for his side table drawer to reach for the tiny bottle of lube he kept there. He tugs down his boxers hastily, squirting some of the liquid in his palm before picking up the phone again with his clean hand.

i’d ask very nicely. i’d even say please. what a good boy. :)

“M’such a good boy,” he huffs, hand wrapping tightly around the base of his cock and dragging upwards, “I’ll be so good for you.”

would you want me to use my hands or my mouth?

“Oh my fucking God,” he groans, brain short circuiting at the thought of you on your knees while he stands over you. Eyes looking up at him with a hand tangled up in your hair, desperately trying to not thrust deep into your throat while you go to work on him. He bites his lip while he fucks his fist, palm and fingers gliding in time with his foreskin, teasing his tip. A fire lights in his belly, cooking up thoughts in his head on how he’d want you first.

i like the idea of keeping your mouth full oh you wanna shut me up? is that it? i don’t think it takes much.

His head leans back on the wall behind his bed, eyes closing while his hips roll up to meet the speed of his hand, slower now to stave it off.

“Yeah, suck it just like that…” he hums out, “Please more.” His brows pinch while he looks back at the picture you sent, your glossed lips gleaming back at him. They’d look so good around his cock, your eyes would look so good filled up with tears when you tried to deep throat him.

“T-take all of it,” he stammers out, unsure of his own dirty talk to himself. Would he actually say that?

Bzz. Bzz.

oh yeah cause you’re soooo big 🙄

“Psh,” he hisses out with a roll of the eyes, hand lifting off his cock to type back. He guesses when it comes to you, he would say that. Just so you’d stop being such a brat.

you’re gonna feel so stupid when you see it you sound very confident because i am is it big?

He looks down at himself confidently, laying fat and dense up his stomach, kicking up at the thought of you seeing it for the first time. Chrissy always gawked at it, despite how many times she’d seen it, it was always like she was seeing it for the first time. The girls he’d pull into the bathroom at The Hideout and other bars would whine at the sight. Both him and them slurring together about how they can make it fit.

its big, sweetheart. but i think you can take it. i know i can take it. so sure of yourself tonight, huh? bet you wouldn’t be so cocky if you were here. so i could watch you jerk it in your bedroom? puhlease. 🙄 i can tell by how you’re talking that you really like the idea of that. so you are jerking it in your bedroom? the same way i know you have your fingers between your pretty thighs

He doesn’t know that, but it was worth the shot. His mind reels, thinking of you barely changing out of your swimsuit into nothing to lay back on your hotel bed to touch yourself to him talking to you. He grunts when his hand wraps around his length again, fisting himself with more intention, thinking about your hips writhing in time with his. He wishes he knew how you sounded when you felt good, how you’ll sound when he makes you feel good. And god does he wanna make you feel good.

🙈 stop yeah? i can stop. ��don’t actually, i’m just embarrassed 😩 how come? cause i do have my fingers between my thighs

“Fuuuuuck me,” he groans into a whimper. He shudders a gasp while his hips buck up to meet his hands thrusts, imagining you on top of him, under him, below him, above him. Mouth, hands, pussy, anything of yours bobbing over his cock. Wiping the images clean and starting over with you splayed out on the hotel bed again, trying to keep quiet so your boss won’t hear you through the hotel’s thin walls.

does it feel good, sweetheart? it would feel better if you were doing it for me. can i call you?

“Can I call you?” he reads out loud, in a whisper, “Can I…call you…”

absolutely.

Your face pops up on his phone within the minute, phone buzzing rhythmically in his hands. His heart rate jerks alive, stomach dropping like he’s on a roller coaster while it continues to ring.

He accepts, swallowing thickly as he does.

“Hey there,” he murmurs.

“Hi,” your voice is shaky on the other end, he holds back a moan.

“Hi,” he says back to you, squeezing himself softly at the base again.

“Do you wanna hear something embarrassing?” you laugh, following up with a soft needy sigh.

“Always,” he swoons out, low and warm.

“Your voice is so hot to me,” you giggle, “I don’t think I could finish if I didn’t hear it.”

“Ah, there you go again, thinking your compliments to me are embarrassing,” he smirks. You sigh again and he lets out a heady breath while he strokes himself, teetering towards a climax.

“Sorry,” you smile, and he can hear it in your voice, “You having a hot voice isn’t embarrassing. Me getting off to it is embarrassing.”

He pauses, hearing your shallow breaths pick up, waiting for the right time to strike. His thumb trails over his tip to smear the precum oozing out of it over the head — his eyes roll back as he thinks about your tongue there instead.

“S’not embarrassing,” his eyelids lower, settling deeper into his pillows. He groans low in his chest before speaking again, “You all wet for me, sugar?”

“Yeah,” you whine to him.

“Wish I could be there to take care of you,” he huffs, “I’d make you feel so good.”

“How?” you ask breathily.

He smirks, biting his lower lip, letting out a low laugh, “I’d take my time with you. Sounds like you get real needy.”

“I’m not needy,” you protest.

“Not needy, but calls me from the other side of the country to cum to my voice?” he argues playfully, “Oh yeah, not needy at all, baby.”

You whine again, a few huffs of breath sound in the receiver.

“You like that?” he asks lowly, “When I’m a little mean to you?”

“Yeah…”

“Fuck…” he whispers back, blood rushing to the tip, twitching while he works his hand up his shaft.

“Wait – are you actually jacking it right now?” you ask with a laugh.

“Yeah,” he sighs back, “Are you surprised?”

“How long have you been doing it?”

“Since you sent me that picture with your whole ass out,” he confesses with a giggle, it just makes sense to him to answer honestly.

“Is that how you wanna fuck me?” your voice is laced with depth and sex, his hips buck up at the sound, “From the back?”

“Maybe not at first,” he starts, imagining he’s in the hotel with you, eyes locking on yours while you touch yourself. Meeting your pleading eyes with a salacious grin while he pumps his cock, climbing on top of the mattress. Climbing on top of you.

“I’d probably want you on your back so I could see your pretty face,” he offers, “Watch you take it.”

You sigh into the receiver again and he groans quietly while pleasure starts taking him over.

“But if I’m being honest…” he starts again, voice lightly teasing. Your breaths pick up, and if he thinks he’s hearing right, you’re very wet. Just because of him, the way he’s talking to you. He shudders before regaining his composure, voice dropping dangerously low.

“I can’t wait to get my mouth on that pussy,” he slurs out, drunk on the idea.

“Mmm, fuck,” you mewl out. Okay Munson, maybe you still know how to do this shit. “Oh, you like the sound of that, huh?” he asks, a light raise to his voice, “You like thinking about me between your legs?”

“Yes,” you huff through gritted teeth. He feels his orgasm creeping up on him quick, your little whines hitting his ear and gliding down his chest to his pelvis. Every soft puff of your breath feels like he’s the one making it punch out of you.

“I know you’d take it so good, too. You’d get so messy for me,” he groans again when his palm grazes over the underside of his tip, cock leaking cum unceremoniously, sending shockwaves through his system, “Just like you are right now, hm? Waiting for me to come over ‘n’ fuck you stupid?” “Please,” you whine into a growl, “Please fuck me stupid.”

“Oh baby, I will,” he moans while he feels his balls tighten, closer and closer to the edge, hearing you pant and beg like that. Just for him. He grunts, breath huffing from his nose like a bull while his orgasm takes him over, cum shooting onto his belly in thick ropes, “F-fuck till you can’t fuckin – mmmf – can’t fuckin’ think.” “Oh! Oh my god, fuck. Fuck!” you cry out into the receiver. He grins, satisfied at that reaction, both of you taking deep breaths into your mics while you both come down.

“Did you cum for me, sugar?” he drawls.

“Mhm,” you squeak out. His grin doesn’t fade, it turns dirty, filthy, “Good girl.”

“Don’t say that.” He can hear your embarrassed smile in your voice, it makes him laugh. He’s normally not like that, that’s not something he thinks he’s ever said in bed – at least not sober.

“I won’t say it, I’m sorry. You don’t like that?” he asks thoughtfully.

“I like it a lot and you’re too far away,” you say softly.

“Poor thing,” he offers.

“I am a poor thing!” you exclaim. You quiet down a little, both just listening to each other breathe on the other end, “I’m excited to see you again, when I come back.”

“I’m excited to see you, too,” he smiles while he speaks softly into the receiver, “But lucky for me, I have these pictures of you to hold me over until then.”

“Visual learner?” you tease. “Physical, too,” he counters.

“You really are trouble,” you laugh, “And um – I don’t want you to think that like, the only reason I wanna see you is just to have sex or anything. I just really like spending time with you.”

“I don’t think that at all,” he assures, “I really, really like spending time with you. I’m – and this is gonna sound super lame – but I’m excited to keep on getting to know you.”

“Lamest thing I’ve ever heard,” you laugh, “But also, same. We can be lame together.” “Oh – uh, by the way,” Eddie’s voice reverts back to normal while a reminder jolts his body awake, “The group really wants to meet you and I know it’s gonna be the day after you get back and you might want to rest, but Steve’s birthday party is Friday if you wanna come. Totally understand if you’re gonna be too tired.” “Oh no, I’d love that!” he can hear you shifting on the mattress, likely getting ready for bed, “Steve’s the one whose Instagram request I shouldn’t accept, right?” Eddie laughs, “Right.”

You both talk for a little longer before he tells you it’s getting late and you should get some rest since you had such a long day. He doesn’t want to hang up, but you’re both too old to be doing the ‘falling asleep on the phone’ thing. Plus, he had to be up for work in five hours.

Eddie slides into the seat on his Honda Civic and sighs – he’s tired. He doesn’t want to go to Steve’s party where everyone is gonna be loud and drunk by the time he gets there. He hates playing catch up, but you’re gonna be there so he’s doing his best to hype himself up before he starts the car. He cracks the Monster Energy sitting in his center console and chugs it, heaving a deep breath before starting the car. Mayhem’s Freezing Moon blares through his speakers and he nods to himself, Good, good, good. It would be a hype enough song to get him excited on the way there. He gives himself a once over in the rearview mirror, looking the same as he did when he freshened up in the teacher’s bathroom after the Jazz Club performed during the Spring Concert. His slim fit black slacks still kept their crease, his wallet chains still dangled from his pocket. Eddie took your advice and started wearing more green, a hunter short sleeved linen blend button up laid open and loose over a clean and expensive white t-shirt. If he didn’t know any better, he would say he looked hot. His hair was coiffed and coiled – he made sure to get a trim before you came back just to touch up the shag. His tattoos were the showiest you’d ever seen them and deeply moisturized, his silver chain and small rings were recently cleaned.

He wants you to lose your mind when you see him, but when he walks into the bar he knows he already lost. There you are, standing at the bar with Nancy, Robin, Steve, and Dustin while they laugh with you at some story you’re telling. You’re all legs in your little black skirt with a cute cropped ‘ARIZONA’ sweatshirt cinching you in right at the waist. Your little white sneakers were shining purple in the black light of the bar, you probably wear these everywhere.

“Eddie!” Dustin calls out, giving a big wave to call him towards the party. You whip around, beaming while he makes his way over, meeting him part way with a drink in your hand. He can smell your perfume immediately and he’s surprised he hasn’t already fallen to his knees. “Started without me, huh?” he asks, nodding to the drink in your hand. “I tried to get Steve a drink but he said it was a better gift for him to buy me one…or two,” you tell him sheepishly. Eddie catches Steve’s eyes over your shoulder when he pulls you in to say hello and shakes his head. Steve smirks, blowing him a kiss before mouthing, ‘Her ass? Insane.’ putting his hands out to show off the size of it. Eddie flips him off while he lets you go.

“Everyone’s been really nice though,” you smile, giving him a once over, “You look really good.”

“Thank you,” he says in your ear, kissing your cheek, “You look too good. Don’t think I can let you stick around here too long.”

“S’kinda hot when you’re like that,” you grin sloppily, biting your lip. The tequila’s blurring the filter in your head a little, he can tell you’re just saying what comes to mind, eyes a little glassy.

“Like what?” “A lil’ possessive,” you shrug. He tucks a knuckle under your chin, lifting your gaze toward him for a moment. “Okay,” he smiles, leaning in to kiss you much more passionately than you expected. Your mouth is cold against his, tongue sliding in to taste the tequila on yours. He snakes one arm around your waist so that you’re chest to chest, both of you laughing against each other’s lips while Tati and the group whoop and holler over your makeout. He breaks away, looking down at you, eyes sparkling.

“I missed you,” he says confidently.

“I missed you,” you smile, pulling him tight against you. This was what he was waiting for. An ounce of clinginess so that he didn’t feel so insane for wanting to be close to you all the time. He leads you back over to the bar, hand on your lower back while you put yourself back in your little group.

“What’re you having tonight, big boy?” Ed asks Steve, clapping him on the back in a brotherly hug.

“Surprise me – you doing shots?” he asks. Eddie nods, getting the bartender’s attention when she makes his way over.

“Can I get four shots of Jameson and then two for my buddy over here?” he asks, pointing at Steve with his thumb. The bartender nods, lining up the shot glasses and starting the pour. “I don’t really like Jameson,” you scrunch your nose.

“Well baby, they’re all for me, so don’t worry about it,” he grins playfully, white teeth shining, “I’ll get you something else when you finish that drink.”

You nod lazily, pulled into conversation with Robin while Steve and Eddie start taking their shots. The whiskey feels good hitting his throat, burning just enough to reinvigorate him for the rest of the night. He clicks his tongue when he downs them all, the scent of Tatianna’s vanilla perfume overtakes him before her hands cover his eyes from behind.

“Guess who it is,” she laughs.

“Someone who used my Warm Vanilla Sugar hand lotion today,” he answers, his fingers running over hers while he peels her hands away. He turns to her to pull her into a hug and then hugging Gareth behind her, already with their drinks in hand.

“Look, it went with the fragrance I was wearing today. You used my curl cream again so – you can’t even be mad,” she shrugs, beckoning him over with her hand, “Come sit with us really quick.”

Eddie turns to get your attention but Tatianna stops him, “She’s a big girl, she’s been doing fine on her own without you here, so far. Let her make friends.” Eddie pouts and Gareth pats him on the back after passing Tati’s drink to her, guiding him over to their booth close by the end of the bar. Eddie sits in the middle of the bench, looking like a kid who just got in trouble and is about to get a stern talking to by his parents. “So…” Eddie starts.

“I really like her, dude,” Gareth grins, “Came in and immediately knew who we were, introduced herself, offered to get us a round. All around seems very much your vibe.”

“And you, mom?” he asks, eyes lifting up through his lashes to look at Tatianna who has a smug grin on her face.

“All I’m saying is that you should always be listening to me when I tell you to do something,” she shrugs, “‘Cause what if you had deleted the app that night? Would’ve never met the love of your life right there.”

“Love of my life? You think?” he asks, eyes widening. “I know. Her energy is exactly what I thought it was gonna be,” Tatianna explains, gold rings in her twists flashing back the neon reflecting on them, “And you’ve been down bad for the past few weeks so I knew there had to be something about her that was really good.”

“So you like her?” Eddie grins.

“We love her,” Tatianna nods, “Consider her adopted.”

“Steve loves her too, it looks like,” Eddie huffs, looking back over at the bar to see Steve showing you something on his phone, a little too close for comfort.

“He’s behaving himself, don’t worry,” Dustin says while he slides in next to Eddie, “We all gave him a warning before she got here. Plus, he’s got two girls on his radar right now that he’s trying to take home if he doesn’t get too drunk – but y’know, we’re banking on the getting too drunk part.”

“Always banking on the getting too drunk part,” Gareth laughs.

The night continues on, people coming and going, getting up to dance, getting new drinks. He watches you blend in seamlessly, swaying with Tatianna at the bar while you wait for a rum and coke for you and water for him. He still has to drive home after all.

“What do you know about this song?” Tatianna laughs while Victoria Monet’s Coastin’ booms over the speakers. You both walk back over, two stepping in time until Gareth pulls Tatianna in tight to him, rocking back and forth with each other and stealing kisses.

Eddie watches you approach him while you lipsync the words playfully, hips swaying in in time with the beat.

‘Think of the waaaays, The ways I wanna give you this ass, Just how you liiiiike, Feel like a Thursday how I’m throwin’ it back.’ “The ways you wanna give me this ass, huh?” he smirks, eyes flitting over you while he takes the water yor offer him. You keep up with your sway, pressing up close to him – you look up with a fake unamused quirk of your brow and he knows you’re about to say something bitchy that’ll make him fall for you even harder. “I don’t think you could handle it,” you flirt.

“You know something?” he starts, putting his water on the table of the booth, catching you before you can sit down, “I think I can handle you just fine.” You burn at his words, a shy grin pulling at your lips when he sits down at the edge of the bench next to Nancy and across from Steve and Robin. It’s fun to flirt with you like this, right on the precipice of something a little dirty. He wants you so bad and if he knows women as well as he thinks he does, he knows you want him so bad, too. He pats his thigh, encouraging you to sit on his lap. You hesitate at first but he nods encouragingly, a silent Please, it’s okay. You settle in, the table high enough that both sets of your thighs fit under the table. He takes a breath before letting his hands settle on your skin, imagining what it might be like when he gets to put his hands on all of it.

Everyone banking on Steve getting too drunk to take someone home was right, him and Robin were already in their codependent best friend phase of the night where they only want to hang out with each other, hands cupped tight on the table. You’re talking to Robin about a game that’s like Sims but 8-bit –

“It’s called Unpacking and it’s so cute, you basically unpack a house or a room and you learn more about the person’s story by unpacking their boxes – sort of like Sims but with actual feelings that you don’t have to make up,” you enthuse.

“Is it on Steam?” she asks, “I’ll literally buy it right now.”

“We’re partying, Rob, don’t play a dumb game,” Steve whines.

“She’s not gonna play it right now, Steve,” Nancy chides, “She’s gonna play it later. Don’t worry, we all know tonight is about you.”

Lucas comes over to the table looking aggravated, Max grinning next to him in a smile that Eddie knows too well. Lucas lost a bet and has to pay up, Eddie wonders what they bet on this time.

“Why does your Dragon’s Lair score have to be so fucking high? Can you literally let anyone have anything?” Lucas huffs.

“Don’t be so sad, Sinclair – you can always try to beat Red’s score,” Eddie shrugs, smirking smugly at the pair.

“She’s 250 points behind you, and you’re both like, seven thousand points ahead of everyone else,” he huffs.

“What’d’you owe her this time?” he asks.

“I can’t even tell you out loud,” he sighs. Max cackles, offering her hand and leading him back over to the Party at the bar, fingers laced with each other while they talk. Eddie adjusts under you, groin shifting under your ass by accident but he savors how delicious it feels to have you on top of him like this.

“Are there any other games in there that you have a high score on?” you ask, breath hitching slightly while his hands coast teasingly over your bare skin under the table. Your posture straightens when his fingers glide up your inner thigh, brushing his fingertips past the hem of your skirt. You like that, he thinks, your body language tells him all he needs to know to keep going.

“The Dracula pinball machine,” he replies confidently.

“I’m gonna go beat it,” you grin up at him.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, hand sliding off your thigh when you get up to head to the arcade room, “You even know how to play?”

“You can show me,” you shrug. He doesn’t really have to show you, pinball is pretty self explanatory, but he doesn’t want to give up a chance to have you alone. He leads you to the machine, pointing out where you want the ball to hit for the best chance at extra points. The music on the sound system is loud and the machine’s music matches it so he has to get close to your ear to explain.

“Do you think I don’t really know how to play or do you just wanna get close to me?” you ask, turning your head to look at him while he chin hooks over your shoulder. “You caught me,” he blushes, hand resting on your hip while he fills the gap between your back and his chest, “I’m sure you’re gonna do just fine.”

And you do, in fact, you’re really fucking good at pinball and he’s almost mad about it. “Where did you learn to do this?” he asks after you rack up nearly three fourths of his high score in one go, the ball just narrowly missing the lever before sinking down to be propelled again.

“Summers on the boardwalk in New Hampshire,” you grin, “My uncle lives over there so we go visit him every year. Played one pinball machine every summer – my high score still stands, like, eleven years later.” “That’s so hot to me, oh my god,” he laughs while you get the next ball rolling onto the board. You lean forward, hips jutting out against him while you really get into it, concentrating hard. Eddie’s breath hitches when you slowly move your hips against him, so slow that he’s not sure if you’re doing it on purpose or not. Rihanna’s Work starts over the speakers and that’s when he knows it’s on purpose. Your movement’s pick up a little, lost in the game and in the beat. You’re a good dancer and that makes his mind wander to other things you might be good at. Your fingers work quick on either side of the machine, lights flashes against both of your faces while you keep trying to win and he keeps trying to not pull your skirt up in the middle of Barcade.

While the song continues, he stops paying attention to you playing, so caught up in how your waist winds and ass bounces against him that he doesn’t realize you aren’t even playing any more. His hips grind slowly back against you, one hand on your lower back, the other gripping your hip to keep you in position. This isn’t new territory for him, pulled into clubs by Tati and Gare, Robin and Steve, everyone else, from the moment things opened back up again in Indiana. When you look back at him he short circuits at first, but he knows you’re surprised he can dance like this. Maybe you forgot, but he does teach Music Theory – rhythm is kind of his whole thing. Of course he has it.

Your hips roll, making your ass run painstakingly slow and firm over his hardening cock. A groan gets stuck in his throat, reaching out to your shoulder to pull you up right again with your back against his chest.

“You like bein’ a tease?” he asks, voice deep and daunting.

“Just getting you back for what you did under the table,” you say matter-of-factly, turning around to face him with your butt leaning against the machine, “You’re not the only one here who knows how to be a slut.” “Also, I beat you,” you grin.

“Looks like you did,” he says, eyes passing yours to look at the new high score glowing on the outdated screen.

“Do I win a prize?”

“M’sure I can think of something,” he murmurs, lips pressing against yours while both of your eyes flutter closed. He takes your hand, leading you to the dark corner close by, both of you hidden by the now defunct change machine to press you up against the wall. “What do you think you deserve?” he purrs before catching your mouth in his again. His kiss is a little sloppy, a little needy, it’s the four shots of Jameson. Not too drunk to drive, but buzzed enough that he doesn’t care about his kissing technique, he just wants to taste you. “Oh, it’s like that?” you giggle mischievously, “I don’t think we can do what I think I deserve in a public place.”

“Hmm, okay, not into exhibitionism I guess,” he huffs a laugh while his kisses trail to your neck, knee slotting between your legs where you eagerly press up against him. He feels one of your hands fall into his hair, making his assault on the crook of your neck more intense when you give it a slight pull. “Kiss me,” you whine softly. “M’sorry, sorry,” he smirks, meeting your lips again, “You just smell really good, I like being in there.” “You’re a really good –” Kiss. “Mmm--kisser.” “Thanks, sugar, you’re –” Kiss. “Not so bad your –” Kiss. “Mmm shit – yourself.” He can barely think like this, so close to you but not close enough. Hands on your waist and hips to guide you against part of his thigh while a little whine pulls out of you. He can’t hold off much longer, feeling his pants grow unbearably tight.

“Let’s get out of here,” he mumbles against your jaw, a satisfied smile blooms on his face when you roll your hips against his knee again.

“You don’t wanna hear everyone drunkenly sing Steve happy – oh, mmm – happy birthday?” you pant out while he presses kisses at the curve of your jaw back to your mouth. His hand entwines with the hair at the nape of your neck, giving you a soft tug to keep your head in place.

“The only thing I wanna hear right now,” he purrs in your ear, “Is what you sound like when I’m making you cum.”

The ride home is quick, barely saying goodbyes while he pulled you through the crowds building at the bar and paid the tab. Gareth shot him a wink as they left, tossing you both a wave but neither of you could think of anything else except each other.

He dropped his keys twice trying to get in the door of his first floor apartment, “Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” you smile, “Just breathe. I’m still gonna be here.”

The door opens and he takes a millisecond to rip your coat off and kick off his shoes, instructing you to kick off your sneakers or Tati would likely emerge from the walls and kill you both for walking into the house with your outside shoes on. His lips immediately attach to yours. There’s no time to waste for him, pulling you over to the couch and plopping down with an excited puff of breath. “C’mere baby,” he beckons you over with two fingers, grinning up at you while you climb over his lap to straddle him. His kiss is searing, hands exploring you with abandon, all the ways he’s been thinking about touching you were now fair play. No one here to see either of you, no one around to interrupt. You can feel how hard he is under his dress pants, the material leaves little to the imagination. The gentle curve of it, its thickness, the length, all pressing up against you with every mutual roll of your hips.

You choke out a whimper when it hits just right up against your clothed slit. Eddie looks up at you mischievously, greedily sucking on your neck for a moment before catching your gaze a little.

“That’s all it takes? Just pushing my hips up like that?” he purrs, rolling them up again slowly, “Is that what you want?”

“Uh-huh,” you breathe. He bites at the skin on your chest, not hard enough to hurt. He grips and grabs you but not hard enough to bruise. He’s testing the waters, seeing what you like and how you like it. His hands travel down past your hips, gripping the fat of your ass.

“Fuck, baby,” he moans into your mouth, exploring you more, his palms flattening against your skirt while it rides up, the curve of your cheeks warm in his hands.

“Finally got to grab it the way you wanted to?” you tease between breaths.

“Mhmm,” he groans, “Now I just gotta smack it around.”

You take his lower lip between your teeth, making his cock twitch when you let it go to click back against his gums.

“Ooh, you wanna spank me?” you laugh into your next kiss. His hand reaches up to pull at your waist, pushing you tighter up against him. His fingers graze between your legs from behind while your head falls back in a breathy gasp.

“Do you want me to spank you?” he asks, brows raised inquisitively.

“Maybe not tonight,” you shrug with a smirk, hips winding over him in a way that makes him really feel you. He growls when you do it, hands guiding your hips to do it again, “Maybe only when I’ve been bad.”

“Jus’lemme know,” he grumbles, pupils taking over the brown in his eyes, “So I can — mmm, shit — teach ya a lesson.”

“Next time,” you huff into his next kiss. He manhandles you so that your back is to the cushions and throw pillows, switching your positions so that he’s on top.

“Next time,” he nods, pulling your sweatshirt off and dropping it to the floor, “But since you’re so good, it only makes sense that you get a reward, right?”

“I did beat you at pinball, so…” you grin. He grins back, kissing your neck hungrily, slotting his knee between your legs like he did at the bar.

“You did beat me at pinball,” he nods, a soft growl brewing in his chest when he feels you start to grind against him. Insatiable, he thinks, Greedy girl. But he doesn’t know if he can say that to you yet. He doesn’t know, all the way, what you like. He feels his heart hammer in his chest at the fear of realizing it – you aren’t Chrissy. What if he was only good because Chrissy thought so? What if he wasn’t actually –

“Oh!” you squeak out, hand reaching out to grip his bicep.

“Are you okay?” he asks, pulling away from your neck to look at you, big brown eyes blown with nerves.

“Y-yeah that’s just…where you’re kissing…that’s a spot for me,” you admit bashfully, unable to look at him.

“Sweetheart,” he shakes his head with a knowing smirk, “Shouldn’t’ve told me that.”

A kiss on the lips is his only consolation to you before he goes back to your neck, tongue trailing down to its last spot where he parks his teeth and lips. You like that. He hears you like it. And fucking God is it good to hear you like this, to hear you in person, moaning and whining in his ear just from kissing and sucking this spot on your neck.

“Eddie…” you breathe, high pitched and desperate, hips still pressing against his knee for friction. He can’t help but go back to your lips, but before he does, he peeks to see the marks he left behind.

Lips become neck, neck becomes chest, chest becomes stomach, stomach becomes hips, and before you know it he’s on his knees on the rug in front of you. Eddie’s eyes find yours when he’s kneeling between your legs, the center of your thighs looking him in the face. He places a kissing on the inside of your knee, gentle and soft.

He opens his mouth to ask, but you nearly read his mind, tugging up the hem of your skirt over your thick thighs. He helps, pushing the fabric up over your hips and ass so he gets another chance to touch and feel you. Once he settles back down he takes a breath, smiling up at you while he readjusts your legs to open a little wider, mouth making contact with your skin soon after. His lips capture the fat of your inner thigh, traveling down in passionate kisses, like your skin is divinity that he’s found for the first time.

“You’re so soft,” he whispers, lips ghosting over your underwear to reach the top of your other knee, planting a kiss there too.

“Thank you,” you breathe out. He lets out a low, teasing giggle at the state of you, head lolling back on the couch while he kisses the inside of one thigh and runs his hand over the outside of the other. His kisses stop and he looks up at you from between your legs, big brown eyes begging you to let him in. A ringed finger teases over the gusset of your underwear, the way you bite your lip gives him the approval to keep going. His slides your panties off, run of the mill black cheeky cut cotton that he wished he could’ve stripped you down to. Just to see that ass swallowing them, to see the way they sat on the curves of your hips.

“You nervous?” he asks with a smile while your legs close, your underwear placed on the floor next to your shirt.

“A little,” you giggle.

“Don’t be nervous, baby,” he coos, hands cupping under your knees to spread your legs again, “Just gonna make you feel good.”

He sighs when your legs open up for him, already wet and puffy, you’d been thinking about this all night. Eddie nips softly at your inner thigh again before he lets his lips linger over your folds. You squirm your hips closer to him, a whine leaking out of your mouth.

“Okay, okay,” he laughs, “I won’t tease you, I’m sorry.”

But he’s lying. Leaning in to get close, only to ghost a breath over your clit. Fingers sliding to your slick lips to separate them slightly for more access to you. He pauses, leaning back away from your pussy and looks up at you quizzically.

“Actually, should I put on Hey Mr. DJ to set the mood? Since it’s so fucknasty…” gesturing his thumb towards the sound system on the other side of the room. You let out a mix of a laugh and a groan while his kisses coast on your thighs again.

“You said you wouldn’t teaaaasssseeee-oh my God,” you moan out when his mouth meets your clit without warning, soft, slow sucks and licks.

“You like that, sugar?” he asks, voice dropping down to a bassy gravel.

You nod feverishly, “Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

“Mmm, don’t stop?” he asks, tongue gliding from your entrance to your clit.

“Please,” you gasp, hand reaching out to run through his hair, bangs pushing back to reveal the soft lines of his forehead.

“Well you’re asking so nice, seems a little mean to keep you waiting,” he coos, fingers replacing his mouth while he talks, “But I thought you liked it when I was a little mean.”

“Don’t be mean, Ed,” you pout.

“Okay, I won’t be mean,” he smiles, opening your legs a little wider. He’s confident about his skills here, Chris loved getting eaten out so he dedicated a lot of time to getting it right. It helped that he loved going down, watching his partner gasp and whine while he serves her on his knees. Feeling the tug on his hair when he’s doing it right, making her feel good. The press of her hand to push him closer to her when she’s getting close, giving it to her over and over again.

“Oh fuck, Ed — oh my god, baby,” you mewl, hips grinding up against his mouth. He smirks into the next stripe of his tongue, latching onto your clit to suck softly while his fingers press against your entrance. His eyes gaze up at you, your own going glassy while you look down at him.

“I like when you look at me like that,” he confesses quietly, mouth returning to its actions immediately. He keeps his eyes on you while his first finger pushes in, he groans at the feeling — snug, warm, wet. He drags out slowly, a high pitched moan escaping you when he pushes back in with little resistance. His head moves with his mouth, tongue laving over your clit, lips pursing over it when he feels your pulse over his finger.

“You’re so good — fuck — you’re so good at this,” you sigh. The praise runs down his chest and along his spine, he moans gratefully into his next kiss against you. He stripes his tongue again, using his other hand to keep your lips spread for more access. Your thighs twitch while he goes back to soft deliberate sucking, alternating between that and gentle fluttering flicks from the tip of his tongue.

“That’s good for you?” he mumbles.

“You’re so good for me,” you whisper back, gripping his hair hard when he pushes his second finger in, “Just…unhm, just like that.”

He keeps a steady pace with his fingers, evidence of his skill coating them while he does. He wants to drag this out a while, take his time with you like he said he would. He breaks his mouth away for a moment to really look at you, just in your bra and skirt. His heart skips a beat, breath caught in his throat. You’re so beautiful, he thinks. Too afraid to say it outloud. What if you don’t like that while you have sex? You said you like when he was a little mean, does that mean he should be mean all the time?

“Earth to Ed…” he hears you say, your hand waving in his face. He looks back up at you, startled, “You okay? You stopped and sort of just…stared for a second.”

“Oh my god, I’m sorry,” he laughs to himself, taking his fingers away to massage the inside of your thighs with both hands, “Just got caught up staring at you.”

“Ew,” you giggle with a smile, “You think I’m pretty or somethin’?”

Eddie leans up between your legs on the couch where you come down to meet him, noses inches apart, “Well I don’t wanna be too forward…”

“You’re literally eating me out, you can’t get any more forward,” you both laugh at the ridiculousness of it. Of both being shaky and shy even this far into the game.

“Like I was saying — I don’t wanna be too forward, but I think you’re honestly so beautiful,” he blushes bashfully, looking down so all you can see are his full lashes, “And I didn’t wanna be corny and say it while I’m like, neck deep in your pussy.”

“That’s very sweet, baby.” You run your hand through his hair, pushing back one side when he looks up at you again. Baby. He likes when you call him that. He likes when you call him baby. He’s excited for you to call him other names like pretty boy, and babe, and honey. He wants to hear ‘em all. He wants you to spend the night so he can make you breakfast in the morning — for like…ever. You kiss him and he shudders, cock jumping in his slacks for a hint of attention — but he has a job to finish.

“You’re very sweet,” he says, nuzzling your nose before kissing your cheek, then your jawline, your neck, your chest, down and further down until he’s between your legs again — he doesn’t tease this time. He licks at your entrance, replacing his fingers with his tongue to lap up what you have for him. Your thighs tremble he trails back up, swirling his tongue over your clit when his fingers snugly sink back inside you.

“Eddie…”

“You gonna cum for me?” he asks, voice smokey and deep. He lets his fingers search inside you for your g-spot, grinning when he finds it. Your moan is loud when he massages it, hips pushing down into the couch cushions, head thrown back while you grind against him.

“M’so close,” you huff, “That feels so good, please don’t stop. Don’tstopdon’tstop.”

He grunts, feeling your thighs jump while he keeps up his pace. His tongue gets sloppy with it, wet and filthy, pooling spit out of his mouth in droves to mix with your slick. He fills you with a third finger, legs parting further again while you huff into the stretch.

“Ooh, you can really take it, baby,” he encourages, “Look at you takin’ all these fingers.” He glides the flat of his tongue over you once before leaning back to watch you. The pads of his fingers press in slow circles against your g-spot again, smirking when your eyes roll back.

“M’gonna cum…oh shit — oh fuck Ed I’m g.. — ohfuck — fuckfuckfuck — mmm-ah!” Your hips jump, lifting off the couch, writhing to pull away while you feel your orgasm rush rapidly to its peak.

“Thaaaat’s it,” he smiles, mouth returning home to its place latched over you. He holds your hips down with his free hand, eyes fluttering closed while he continues. A slight flit of his tongue right as he pumps his fingers in puts stars in your eyes, thighs snapping closed on either side of his head — exactly what he wanted.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” you chant with strained, shaking vocal chords, tears pricking your eyes. Eddie groans when he feels your walls clench down hard over his fingers, flooding over him down his hand. You hiss while he keeps going, fingers easing out of you but tongue licking up as much as he can while you come down in shivers.

“You okay?” he asks, when your thighs release him. You reach for his hand, still covered in your juices and pull it toward you — but he knows your game. He knows you’re gonna lick it off and give him those eyes — so he pulls his wrist away, “Oh, no baby.”

Eddie delicately puts his fingers in his mouth, eyes on yours with a glint of satisfaction, and gently sucks them clean instead.

“I don’t like to waste it, sugar,” he croons, “I can make you something if you’re hungry.”

His sexy act breaks when you roll your eyes at him, clearly flustered by his antics in your post orgasm glow. He snickers when he stands up, leaning down to peck you with your arousal still smeared on his mouth and chin.

“Don’t laugh at me,” you pout.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he pouts back. A peck turns to a kiss, a kiss to something passionate.

“Why don’t I go get cleaned up,” he starts, before catching you in another kiss.

“You should pee since that’s the smart thing to do before and after,” he presses a kiss to your neck.

“And then I’ll take you to bed,” he murmurs huskily, “How’s that?”

“That’s really nice,” you rasp back, turning so that you’re nose to nose, “But I am a little hungry now that you said that.”

“You’re funny,” he smiles, another kiss, “I’ll get us a snack and then I’ll take you to bed, is that better?”

“Much better.”

Eddie passes you your panties and shirt, and points out where the bathroom is down the hall. While you traipse along, he opens the fridge, taking out the tiramisu he got as dessert with his takeout last night but didn’t get around to eating. He slices the generous cut in half, gently placing it on two tea plates and grabbing two forks.

“Do you like tiramisu?” he asks when he hears your socked feet pad into the kitchen.

“I do. My mom’s is the best actually,” you brag. He turns around to see you, your bright smile, your refreshed face.

“Will you still eat it if it’s not your mom’s?” he asks, offering you the plate.

“Yes, of course,” you nod, taking both plates out of his hands and placing them on the table, “But first I gotta –”

Eddie’s taken aback by the kiss, but you don’t notice. He’s swift at the pick up, matching your pace expertly and hoisting you up onto the counter with surprising ease. He grunts when you pull him forward between your legs by the belt loops because he knows you’re trying to fuck just as much as he is.

“Baby…” he starts, regretfully breaking away, “Are you hungry or not?”

You don’t answer at first, you just look at him and kiss him again. When you pull away, your gaze lingers. Fear coasts icily over his chest when you almost look forlorn.

“Shit…” you whisper, shoulders drooping.

“Wh-what? What is it?” he asks, hands getting clammy where they rest on your thighs.

“I…” you take a deep breath, it shakes when you exhale, “I really fucking like you.”

He smiles, but he knows why this is your response, why you look like this, why your shoulders sulk — because he’s also there, “Does that make you scared?”

You nod, but instead of going in to kiss you again he pulls you close, smooching your cheek before leaning your head on his shoulder.

“It’s okay that you’re scared,” he murmurs, “But if it’s any consolation…”

“I really fucking like you, too.”

When you kiss again, he’s overwhelmed.

“Fuck the tiramisu,” you breathe, “Let’s just —.”

“Mhm,” he breathes back, hoisting you off the counter, balancing you on his hips, “I fucking need you.”

Jingle. Click. Creak.

“HONEY, WE’RE HOME!” calls the voice of a sloshed Steve Harrington, from the front door, “Put your clothes on, sluts.”

But it’s not just Steve, it’s the whole party — the group filing into the living room while you hurriedly slide down Eddie’s form. Tatianna and Gareth follow in after everyone gets their shoes off, laughing and joking with Robin and Dustin while they stumble through the door. They halt when they catch Eddie’s expression from the other room, a stare so cold it could freeze them both. ‘I’m so sorry,’ Gareth mouths, realizing with deep regret what they’ve interrupted. Tatianna makes her way over, making a face of pure guilt when she makes it into the kitchen.

“So here’s the thing, my phone died and Steve was using Gareth’s phone to change the music and I forgot to text you,” she explains to the both of you, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s seriously okay,” you laugh, “Please don’t feel bad. It’s you and Gareth’s apartment, too.”

��Are you mad at me?” Tati pouts at Eddie, who could not stay mad at Tati for even a second.

He puffs a dramatic sigh, crossing his arms, “No, no, I’m not mad at you. It’s okay.”

“Okay,” she smiles, opening her arms for a hug which he obliges without question, “Gare’s sorry too, but unfortunately he’s busy babysitting Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum with Nance.” Eddie looks down at you when he lets go of Tatianna, reaching his hand out to rub your back, “She means Robin and Steve.”

“I figured,” you smile. Tatianna makes her exit and you’re both alone in the kitchen again.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie offers, using the leverage of his hand on your back to pull you in close to him.

“What, why? There’s nothing to be sorry for,” you furrow your brow, forearms leaning up the length of his chest. The opening bass of Dua Lipa’s One Kiss starts to thump from the soundsystem in the living room into the kitchen, along with Steve’s passionate This is my favorite fucking song, holy shit.

“Everything got ruined,” he frowns, “I’m like, kind of embarrassed.”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” you urge, pulling him a little closer to give him a reassuring kiss, “There’s always next time. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

“No?” he asks, leaning his forehead against yours, “You’re stayin’ right here?”

“Well, until I have to go to home,” you shrug. The music gets a little louder and Eddie throws his disappointment to the wind. There is always next time. For now, he has you here in his kitchen, lips on yours, hands on your cheeks, the steady thump of the beat of his heart. And of course, Steve drunk crying to Robin in the living room – You’re literally my best fucking friend. You’re my best fucking friend Rob, I love you so much.

Eddie giggles against your mouth at the sound, an ache caught in his chest. He really fucking likes you.

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things s4 #eddie munson x y/n

2K notes · View notes

kiss-me-cill-me · 3 months

Text

The Ninth Crewmember

Pairing: Robert Capa x Reader

Word Count: 4.9k

Summary: You are the ninth crewmember aboard Icarus II, and as the journey wears on you begin to find it harder and harder to ignore your feelings for Capa. Maybe it would be easier if he'd quit dragging you into bed with him...

Warnings: Smut, mentions of reader taking birth control pills as well as other medications, mild angst/pining, nightmares, literal sleeping together, the fun kind of sleeping together, Capa is a bit of a dick but also a sadboi, teasing, begging, use of "good girl" (whoops), bad puns

A/N: Can you tell that I struggle with titles haha? Anyway, finally getting around to cross-posting this from AO3 in my continued attempts to fuel @cillmequick's Capa thots 😉

***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***

Your fingers hovered over the panel, looking for the button you were supposed to press. They were all clearly labeled, but there were so many of them that you were having a hard time locating the one you needed. Your index finger moved hesitantly closer to a square near the bottom right of the panel.

“Not that one.”

Capa’s voice behind you made you jump. He sounded… not exactly annoyed, but tired by having to explain again what you were supposed to be doing. Your cheeks heated up as he leaned in close, chin hovering just above your shoulder as he looked at the panel.

“That one.”

He pointed at a button in the lower left, which, embarrassingly, was flashing bright orange and labeled “TEST” in all capital letters. You felt the need to apologize, but held your tongue. Capa went back to doing whatever it was he had been concentrating on before, at the other end of the room. The space he left in his wake felt oddly noticeable.

“Okay,” he said, taking his time to flip a couple of switches above his head. “Ready in three… two… one…”

You pressed the button as he finished counting down, and instantly the room in front of the control chamber was filled with spots of twinkling light. They seemed to dance over every surface for just a moment. The display lasted for less than three seconds, but it was breathtaking even in impermanence.

You looked over at Capa, your eyes still shining with the beauty of it, only to see him calmly taking notes. His expression was carefully neutral, lips pressed together as he scribbled with short, purposeful strokes.

“Capa?” you asked.

“Hm?”

He didn’t look up as he continued to record his observations, and you didn’t wait for him to before continuing.

“Do you think the real thing will look like that?”

Capa stopped writing for a moment, and seemed to consider your question seriously before answering.

“No,” he said finally, putting his stylus down and fixing you with a gaze that made you breath stop. “Even after watching a thousand of these simulations, I don’t think that any one of them could ever capture the true beauty. What it will really look like.”

You were standing a few feet away from him, fixed in place by his intense gaze. Something about Capa had fascinated you, from the moment you’d stepped aboard Icarus II. His bluntness, maybe, or the way his eyes seemed to scan over everything in front of him, as if he were reading it all - people, data, situations - like they were a book. And you would be lying if you said that it didn’t make your heart swell whenever he did it to you.

“You and I will be some of the only people to ever live who will see something so magnificent,” Capa said quietly. “We should count ourselves lucky.”

You nodded in agreement, too entranced and too afraid of flubbing your words to reply.

“Thank you for your help,” Capa continued. He went back to note taking, as if he hadn’t just been waxing poetic about life and the universe. “You can go.”

Capa’s words rang in your head as you made your way to the medbay. It had been hours since you’d left his lab, but the weight still seemed to resonate. A beauty unlike anything anyone had ever seen before. You reflected on the thought as you reported to Searle, to help with a few things before going to bed.

One of Searle’s duties was handing out supplements, and he often asked for your help with making the deliveries. Icarus II was a very large ship, and your fellow crewmembers were usually spread out in the various quarters and chambers. It was faster to do the job with two people.

Before heading off, you worked on separating various pills into small plastic cups, one for each person. There were quite a few pills that everyone had to take every day. Space travel was hard on the body, and it was difficult if not impossible to get all of the necessary nutrients from the food you had aboard. Even with the gardens and the ability to have fresh vegetables, you all still had to take a lot of supplements.

You finished doling out the vitamins, and then opened the final bottle of pills. You, Cassie, and Corazon also received one other daily medication: an oral contraceptive. You dropped three little pills into three little cups.

As you replaced the bottle’s lid, your mind drifted again to Capa. The weight of him hovering just behind you, so close that you could feel his breath against your cheek. You wondered if he had any idea that he made your heart flutter just by being next to you. If he did, he certainly didn’t show it. Capa was incredibly hard to read, but for some reason that only made you want him all the more. Your thoughts wandered, imagining things that you knew would never happen. His hand reaching out to you; the feel of his fingers against your waist; his beautiful blue eyes rolling back as he-

You slammed the bottle of pills down on the counter, banishing the fantasies before you could get too wrapped up in them. It was a bad idea to sleep with your coworkers. The birth control pills were mandated for female crewmembers, but they were precaution rather than permission. Nine people cooped up together, for years. It was better to prevent any potential problems from happening. It was only logical to mitigate the risk. But that didn’t mean that relationships were encouraged.

And besides, you told yourself, it's not like Capa would be interested anyway.

You picked up the little plastic vial with your pills, and tipped them all into your mouth, swallowing quickly.

They burned your throat on the way down.

Capa’s eyes looked almost white in the vivid yellow light of the sun. He looked at the dying star, and you looked at him, breathless again at the way he seemed to silently consider everything in front of him. The edges of his thumbs ghosted over his lips as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, as if to get just a bit closer to that magnificent light.

You were sitting in the observatory, Capa’s empty vial of pills placed precariously on the edge of the bench between you. It had taken you quite a while to find him. He often stayed up late working in his lab, and it was almost rare to see him outside of it. He had been your last delivery, so you figured it wouldn’t hurt to sit with him awhile before heading to your quarters.

You’d been wrong, of course; it hurt more than anything to sit next to him and not have the courage, or the recklessness, to reach out and touch him. As he looked on with amazement at the pulsating sun, you tore your eyes away from him to peer out as well. Dark webs of red and black stretched over the star’s surface. It was strange to think about - how up close it all looked so different from how it had back on Earth. It took up the entire viewing window; so large that it almost felt like it could swallow you at any moment, despite still being millions of miles away.

As he leaned forward, Capa’s dog tags dangled in front of his chest. You wanted nothing more than to grab them. Wrap your fingers around the thin cord holding them, and pull him to you until you both tumbled off the edge of something and into the blazing unknown.

Your tongue darted out to lick your lips. Chapped from the heat of the sun.

“It’s getting late,” you whispered, hoping that he would break the spell so that you wouldn’t have to. “You should get to bed, Capa.”

“Hard to when the sun’s always right there, isn’t it?” he asked, cryptically.

“I guess it is,” you agreed. “But you should still get some rest.”

Capa nodded, and rose from the bench, crushing his empty cup in his hand. He looked back at you, seemed as if he was about to say something, and then left the room without uttering a word. You let out a rough breath, shaking even as you were bathed in the glowing light.

A noise woke you up from your fitful sleep. You’d had a lot of trouble closing your eyes in the first place - probably because of the way your heart was still hammering in your chest, and the way your mind was racing from the events of the day. Still, it was odd to hear any sort of noise at night. Usually the hallways of the ship were deserted, as the crew all slept in their separate chambers. You listened closely, trying to identify the noise through the haze of sleep still clouding your senses.

You heard it again: a muffled banging followed by what sounded like someone struggling.

Curious, you got out of bed and padded softly across the floor of your small room. The door slid open soundlessly, and as you stepped out into the hall you heard the noise a third time. Now you could clearly tell that it was coming from across the hall. Capa’s room.

You hesitated for a moment, closed fist raised and ready to knock. He probably wouldn’t want you to bother him, but what if something was wrong and you ignored it? You wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself. You knocked.

Another muffled sound came from inside, unintelligible.

“Capa?” you whispered, lips pressed as close to the door as you could manage. You didn’t want to wake anyone else up.

There was no answer.

Well, you were already here. You might as well go in and make sure he was okay, just in case. Pressing the small button to open the door, you slipped quietly into his room. The door slid closed behind you.

Capa’s room was entirely dark, unlike the faint, recessed glow of the hallway. It took your eyes a moment to adjust, but when they finally did you could see Capa asleep in his bed, thrashing against some unseen threat. He was having a nightmare.

Immediately, you felt embarrassed. You shouldn’t have barged in; this was his personal space. He was vulnerable, and clearly going through something unpleasant. Knowing Capa, you felt certain that he wouldn’t want any of the others seeing him like this, including you. His brows creased and lips pressed feverishly together in his sleep. You turned to leave, feeling foolish.

“Who’s there?”

The sound of Capa’s voice behind you made you freeze. Just like earlier, in the lab, a shiver inched down your spine at the thought of facing him. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself.

“It’s me,” you responded, turning around.

He was sitting up in bed, blankets pooled around his waist. Shirtless. You felt your face heating up, and were relieved that he couldn’t see your eyes widen in the dark.

“Oh,” said Capa softly. “What are you doing here?”

“I, um… I heard something and I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Against your better judgment, you took a few steps toward him as you spoke. There was a chair next to his bed, and you sat in it, leaning forward on your elbows as you tried to read his expression. The lines of his face betrayed nothing, as usual.

“Is… everything okay?” you asked hesitantly.

Capa swallowed before answering, his eyes flitting up to land on your face. Even in the dark, somehow they seemed to shine. You wanted to look away. You knew you should. But looking into his eyes felt the same as the rushing weightlessness of looking into the sun.

“I’m fine,” he assured you. “Sometimes I have nightmares.”

You nodded, a little surprised he had opened up to you..

“Me too,” you admitted.

Capa seemed to understand what you meant, without you having to say it. He didn’t look away from you as he spoke.

“It is frightening,” he told you. “To be face to face with all of it. The beauty. The scale, unlike anything you’d ever seen back on Earth.” Your mind flashed back to Capa in the observation deck, eyes wide open and leaning forward toward the molten sun. You had thought he was fascinated, but maybe it was something more like the magnetic pull of fear that made him inch closer.

“But I meant what I said earlier,” he continued. “We are lucky to be here.”

Silence hung between you for a moment.

“I’m sorry for letting myself in,” you said finally. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Don’t be,” Capa said. “It’s nice to be checked up on.”

You smiled softly, even as your heart hammered in your chest. You put your hands on your knees and stood up from the chair, then leaned down to look at Capa one last time. He was still sitting up in bed, propped on one elbow, facing slightly toward you. A breath caught in your throat as you reached out and placed a hand on his bare shoulder.

“Get some rest, Capa,” you told him, giving a gentle squeeze.

As you moved your hand away, suddenly it was stopped by strong, stable fingers. You looked down to see Capa grabbing your wrist, looking up at you with those damn sensuous eyes. This time, your heart stopped.

“Stay with me?” Capa asked, the barest hint of a prayer in his voice.

“I…”

“Please?”

Time seemed to stand still as you looked at him. A trace of fear in the very corner of his eyes. A few pieces of hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, pressing just a bit too tight.

“Okay,” you agreed. The word seemed to carry all of the air in your lungs along with it, out into the vacant night.

You sat on the edge of his bed, awkwardly facing him, and Capa moved backward to make more space for you. Hesitant, you weren’t sure if he wanted you to lie down next to him. It wasn’t exactly a roomy bed, not being intended for more than one person to occupy at a time. You flittered with indecision as Capa settled back into his pillows.

“C’mere.”

Suddenly, an arm was around your waist. And then you were being hooked into Capa’s body, your back pressing snugly against his chest. Capa sighed behind you, his breath tickling the back of your neck. His arm was still draped around your waist, and his lips just barely brushed against you.

“Sweet dreams,” he whispered.

You let out a shaky breath, and prayed that Capa couldn’t hear how fast your heart was beating.

The next morning, you woke up alone. You tried to ignore your disappointment. Capa was an early riser; the type to get a head start on the day by spending all hours in his lab, including the ones before anyone else on the ship was awake. You had always seen him as a hard worker, but after seeing him so unusually agitated last night, you now wondered if there weren’t other reasons he barely seemed to sleep.

You looked around the small room for a few moments, reflecting on what had happened. Part of you still couldn’t believe it. Was it possible that Capa had feelings for you, or were you just a warm body to sleep next to? Did it even matter? If it meant you got to press yourself up against him, you honestly didn’t care whether there was anything more to it.

But then anxiety clouded your mind. What if Capa had left because he was embarrassed? Too shy to confront you about the mistake he’d made in asking you to stay with him? He was, generally, very straightforward - but you also got the sense that he liked to avoid conflict if possible. And he was so damn hard to read. You sat up and put your feet on the floor, crossing your legs and squeezing them together. He was driving you crazy, and the worst part was, you were way too much of a coward to tell him about it.

You stood, made a sound of frustration, and carefully left the room - looking both ways before you stepped out into the hallway. It was still early, but you certainly didn’t need anyone seeing you step out of Capa’s room first thing in the morning. Rumors traveled faster in the cramped halls of a spaceship than lightning on a summer’s night. You slipped back into your own room, and got ready for the day. Maybe, later, you would confront Capa.

You spent the day avoiding Capa. Which wasn’t too hard; he really did spend most of his time in his lab. You focused on helping Corazon in the oxygen garden, trying to distract yourself with the calming, white-noise sound of water. It didn’t do much good for your nerves, unfortunately.

As the hours wore on, you became more and more agitated, and ultimately, convinced that Capa regretted your night together. It was disappointing, sure, but this was really just a testament to why you shouldn’t have gotten involved in the first place. It was a bad idea to sleep with your coworkers. Even if you did literally only sleep with them.

That night, you begged off of helping Searle with the medications; telling him you had a headache and wanted to get to bed. Really, you just couldn't face the thought of handing Capa his little plastic cup of pills, watching as he observed you with his characteristic disinterest. Searle added a few ibuprofen to your medications and watched as you swallowed them down, before telling you he’d handle it and to get some rest.

Eyes on the floor, you headed to your room.

This was not good. You still had years left on the ship, pressed together with everyone in tight quarters. And Capa was right across the hall from you. There was no possible way to avoid him, and yet, how were you supposed to face him after the embarrassment of being ignored and rejected? Your thoughts were still swirling as you reached the door to your quarters, and pressed the button to go inside.

“Sleeping alone tonight?”

The familiar voice behind you caught you off guard. You hadn’t seen him there.

“I didn’t realize there was another option.”

You turned around to face him, slowly. Capa was standing in the open doorway to his room, hands in his pockets and arms unfairly attractive in his light gray tank top. There was just a hint of mischief in his eyes as they slowly swept over you, and it made you feel both anger and arousal.

“I’m sorry about this morning,” Capa said, again seeming to sense what you were feeling without you even telling him. “Trey needed my help with something, and I figured you wouldn’t want me to wake you. Ooor want to walk out together in front of him.”

You felt yourself starting to soften, but still gave your best attempt at a pout as you crossed your arms.

“You could have told me earlier.”

“I know. And I am sorry.” Capa took a step back into his room. “Let me make it up to you?”

It was the wrong decision to follow him. You knew this, but you did it anyway. If only to finish the conversation in the relative privacy of Capa’s room instead of out in the hallway where anyone could hear you. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

“Please don’t be mad?”

Capa’s room was dark, again, and it took your eyes a few seconds to adjust. When you could see him clearly, he was looking down at you, careful expression and head cocked to the side as he awaited your answer.

“Okay,” you agreed.

You were rewarded with a small smile from Capa, and instantly your heart melted. You really couldn’t stay mad at him, even if you wanted to. He was just too damned attractive.

“Let’s go to bed then,” Capa said happily.

He tore off his shirt as he walked to the bed, and for a second you weren’t sure how you were going to stay upright. Capa stood by the bed and waited for you.

“Ladies first.”

“I, um…” you began. “Maybe I should get my pajamas out of my room.”

“Mmm, you don’t really need them.”

Capa took a step toward you and reached over, pulling you close to him. At the same time, his fingers slipped beneath the hem of your shirt. And before you could protest, he was pulling the fabric up and over your head, leaving you only in shorts and a sports bra.

“That’s better,” he smirked.

Capa’s warm fingers landed on your waist, and you felt yourself swoon again. If it weren’t for his piercing blue eyes holding you in place, you were certain you would have fallen over.

Gently, Capa guided you to bed and let you climb in first, before crawling after you. You were spooning again, this time with you lying closest to the wall. With Capa’s body pressed against you, the result was a warm but not uncomfortable closeness. It felt like you were boxed into your own little world, even as the vastness of space threatened to spill in all around you.

Capa’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you in even tighter. You settled back against him, all of your earlier tension melting away. This was nice, whatever it was. You had made up your mind to just enjoy it. It had been a long time since you’d been so close to someone. Capa’s long hair tickled your neck and shoulders, and you exhaled as he-

“Capa!”

His mouth was suddenly on your shoulder, kissing rough enough to leave a bruise. You felt heat rush to your face once again.

“Shhhh,” he teased, lips brushing against you. “Don’t want anyone else to hear us, right?”

“What are you doing?” you whispered frantically.

“Making it up to you,” Capa replied, devilishly. “Like I said I would.”

He put his lips on your neck this time, kissing and scraping your soft skin with his teeth. Despite yourself, you let out a small whimper. Capa’s arms tightened around you.

“Do you forgive me?” Capa asked. You could feel him smiling into your neck.

“I-I don’t know.” A sudden surge of boldness swept through you. “You might need to convince me some more.”

“Hmmm,” Capa growled, directly into your ear. “Wonder how I can do that…"

One of his hands trailed lazily up and down your thigh. His touch was feather-light; moving so slowly that it had your head spinning. Without warning, he grabbed the back of your leg, pads of his fingers pressing into your bare flesh.

“Oh-”

The word left your lips involuntarily, and you felt Capa smirk against you again.

“Think I might have a few ideas…” he said.

“Capa, I-” Before you could get out more than two words, his hand had snaked around to the front of your shorts and was pushing past your waistband. Separated only by the cloth of your panties, his fingers pressed against the wetness that was quickly spreading between your thighs.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he whispered. “I knew you were into me, but I didn’t know you had it this bad.”

You arched your back against his bare chest, too drunk on his fingers to formulate a response. And he hadn’t even pushed past your panties yet; he was just touching you through the fabric as you fell apart for him.

“Good girl,” he rasped, sending another wave of euphoria from your neck to your throbbing cunt. “So eager. Want me to put ‘em inside you?”

You nodded, desperate but not trusting your voice enough to speak. Capa slid his hand past the final layer of fabric that separated you, and then one of his fingers was pressing into you. You squeezed your legs together, trapping his hand, and Capa quickly added another finger.

“Fuuuuuck,” he hissed.

His fingers curled, pulling at the strings of tension that were already building in your stomach. You wanted nothing more than to scream for him, but knew you shouldn't. The walls of the ship were far from soundproof, and there were rooms on either side of you.

Capa’s thumb pressed down on your clit, rubbing it as his fingers continued to move inside of you. You were desperate for something to grab onto, but the only thing in front of you was blank wall. You settled for wrapping your legs around his, entangling yourselves together to give you some semblance of being grounded. You bucked against his hand, begging for more friction.

“Forgive me yet?” Capa teased, his breath ghosting over your ear again.

You shook your head no; not willing to give up on the game just yet. Behind you, Capa chuckled.

“So stubborn,” he muttered. “You really want to make me work for it.”

Capa took his fingers away, and you moaned at the sudden loss of him. Not wasting any more time, he grabbed your shorts and pulled them down. You had a brief moment to wonder what you had gotten yourself into.

You’d felt his growing bulge press into your back as Capa had teased you with his fingers, and now you felt him sliding out of his sweatpants. You were both naked from the waist down, and-

“Fuck, Capa.”

He was brushing the tip over your entrance, not pressing into you yet but just taunting with the idea of it. His hand was firmly at the base of his shaft, ready to guide himself up into you.

“Tell me how bad you want it.”

“Please, Capa.”

“Wanna hear you say it.”

“I need you inside me,” you whispered.

“Fucking beg for it.”

With a frustrated whine, you pushed down and back, forcing his cock into your aching pussy. He was such a tease; you couldn't take it any longer. He was so hard he slid right into you, and the stretch against your walls was like heaven.

Without warning, your orgasm broke over you, crashing into your body with an intensity unlike anything you had ever felt before. It was bliss and beauty and all for the man who was ruining you with every touch. You pressed harder, wanting to feel Capa inside of you as deep as you possibly could. You arched against him, head falling back against his shoulder as you rode out the high.

Capa grabbed at your breasts roughly.

“You know,” he began, “you've never been very good at following directions.”

He pulled out of you suddenly, making you gasp as you clenched around nothing. Quickly, you were flipped onto your back, and then Capa was hovering over you, his eyes burning ice blue.

“Let's try that again,” he said, lining himself up as he leaned forward, pressing his whole body against yours. “I want you. To fucking. Beg.”

“Capa, please,” you breathed.

“Please what?”

“Please put it in me! God, I want you to fill me up. Please, please-”

Capa smirked above you, and your eyes rolled back in your head.

“That's my good girl.”

The sound that left your mouth as he entered you once again would have been mortifying, had you been thinking straight enough to hear it. As it was, Capa seemed to drink up your pathetic mewls and breathy sighs. He pumped in and out of you a few times, watching as you bounced on the bed beneath him.

“Should've gotten you in my bed a long time ago,” Capa panted, still pumping into you relentlessly. “I could've been listening to your pretty noises this whole time.”

His face was right next to yours; the stubble on his jaw scratching you with every thrust. You could feel his lips brushing against your ear as he continued.

“Kinda regret wasting all those hours in the lab with you doing actual work. It's a lot more fun for me to press your buttons.”

Your arms and legs wrapped around him, and your fingers tangled in his hair. Capa kissed you roughly on the lips. His thrusts started to get sloppier, falling out of their methodical rhythm.

“Gonna let me cum inside you, yeah?”

You could do nothing but wrap your legs around him tighter, pinning him in place.

“Fuck, that's right. Gonna take all of it and beg for more. I'll have you in here every fucking night, on your back for me, screaming so that everybody hears how bad you want me to stick it in you.”

Capa’s mouth was going to be the death of you. You clenched around him, silently begging him to cum. It was humiliating, how badly you wanted to be filled by him.

“Oh, fuck!” Capa shouted, entirely too loud.

He held you tight as he emptied into you, giving a few final, weak thrusts. He was breathing heavily, still looming over you as his chest heaved. After a few seconds, he pulled back to look at you.

“So, does that make up for leaving this morning?” he asked, smirk still plastered on his face.

“I… don't know,” you panted. “I think we might need to do it once more… to make sure.”

You looked up at him, mischief playing in your own eyes. Capa wasn't the only one who could tease.

“Oh yeah? Only once more?” he prodded.

He reached up to push the hair out of his face, slicked down with the sweat of his exertion. But despite that, you could already feel him getting hard again.

“Well, maybe a few times,” you smiled.

You leaned up and caught his lips in a kiss.

#robert capa x reader #robert capa smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #LemmyFics

373 notes · View notes

theturtlelovers · 11 days

Note

"Cum for me baby" from Don with his girlfriend please?

₩Φ₹$Ω¡₽₽¡₪g $¡₪

Pairing: Donnie/fem!Reader Rating: Explicit Contents: Donnie is strangely overcome with the need to have you right then and there. Warnings: 18+, mdni, mating season, hickeys, creampies, unprotected p in v (wrap it up peeps) Wordcount: 1,594 Sentence Prompt: # 75

𝕊𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 ℙ𝕣𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕥𝕤

Notes: Excuse my poor attempt of being more poetic in my writing! Hope you enjoy!

Your presence was like a living temptation to him, as if every cell in your body was crafted to make him lose control around you. Carnally irresistible, Donnie found it impossible to keep his hands off of you. Earlier, he had tried with great effort to keep his eyes on the TV, but your scent drifted into his nostrils—so sweet and enticing. Overcome, he leaned down to breathe deeply in the crook of your neck.

The look you gave him almost made him shudder visibly. You appeared concerned by his sudden change in behavior, yet there was an undeniable excitement in your eyes as he ran his tongue over your pulse point.

He wasn't sure if something was wrong with him, but he wasn't entirely focused on figuring it out, as your soft gasps were far more captivating than anything else. His skin felt like it was on fire, and his glasses had become an irritation, so he quickly removed them and tossed them onto the coffee table. He didn’t need them anyway; you were close enough that he could clearly see your beautiful expressions.

Donnie was a turtle steeped in science, his expertise evident in the gadgets he wielded both in the lab and on patrol. He had deciphered ancient codes to deactivate a timed toxic bomb threatening New York City and uncovered the mysteries of the purple ooze. Yet, in your presence, all logic seemed to evaporate, leaving him a slave to his emotions. His instincts urged him to keep you selfishly close and immerse himself in your natural scent. He desired to fill the very being he worshiped with his essence so intensely that no one else could occupy your thoughts but him.

But as time stretched on, it seemed like hours had passed, and he was certain you were too overwhelmed to form a coherent thought. Your skin was flushed, adorned with a trail of red marks across your delicate skin—marks destined to deepen into purple.

It almost felt like your first time together, heated with a passion so intense that you couldn't stop trying to touch each other, yet tinged with nervousness due to a lack of familiarity with each other's physical needs. However, despite the similar rush of emotions, Donnie's hands never fumbled or shook with uncertainty. They moved with confidence and precision, driven by an eager desire to worship your very existence.

Just a tilt of your head was enough for him to capture your soft lips with his, sighing softly as he found a semblance of relief amidst his lustful haze. His large hands were intent on exploring the canvas of your body despite the fact he’s seen more times he can count, gently kneading your flesh, which was much softer than his own.

"Donnie..." Your whine pierced through his haze of desire.

He shuddered this time at the sound, murmuring, "So pretty and all for me.” The turtle licked his lips, dried from his heavy pants for air.

The space between your thighs glistened with a mixture of your juices and his essence—a beautiful concoction, Donnie might add. Despite the evidence that he had finished inside you several times, his attention remained laser-focused on your pleasure, his mind relentlessly urging him to give more and more. It would be remiss of him not to, especially when your lips parted so beautifully with each mewl that escaped them.

He pressed one hand firmly on your back to keep you pinned against the couch. A fleeting thought crossed his mind, wondering if a three-fingered imprint would remain, but it quickly dissipated as he became captivated by the way the sweat on your skin sparkle ethereally.

Seriously, were you a fallen angel hell-bent on cursing him to eternally crave your body? No matter how many times he made you cry out his name, no matter how tightly you clenched around him that is felt like you were pulling him deeper until he climaxed, he still wanted more. Or perhaps he needed more. Donnie couldn't tell anymore; his thoughts were so tangled that he couldn't distinguish desire from necessity. Either way, it seemed his body was surrendering to its own carnal instincts, relentlessly seeking release with you, in you.

Donnie muttered a curse under his breath as his free hand slipped beneath you, caressing the bundle of nerves that made your thighs begin to quiver. Your hands clutched weakly at the cushions, moaning with abandon.

He hissed through clenched teeth as he felt your inner walls tighten around him once more. "Come for me, baby. You can do it," he encouraged gently.

It was only a moment more before you released a stuttering squeal, your nectar coating him further as he continued to thrust into you, riding out your orgasm. Donnie bit his lower lip as his torso lowered to brush against your back, emitting a groan and a deep, reverberating churr that would make Raph envious. He pushed himself as deep as he could inside you as he came. Your smaller hand clung to the wrist of the hand between your legs, panting loudly.

Finally, Donnie's mind began to clear, his intense sexual need appearing to wane and find satisfaction. He hoped he hadn't pushed you too far.

You seemed to recognize that it was over when Donnie didn’t immediately resume thrusting into you with his previous unrestrained vigor. Slumping beneath him, you felt his weight relax as he lazily placed kisses on the hickeys decorating your shoulders. Both of you appeared content to remain in your current position, with him still inside you, enjoying the quiet aftermath together.

"Holy shit..." you mumbled.

He let out a soft chuckle. "Too much?"

You shook your head. "No, no. It was amazing! I just don't know what came over you so suddenly.”

“I actually don’t know either,” Donnie hummed thoughtfully. Carefully, he pulled away and slipped out from the comfort of your warmth. He had to restrain himself and look away when he heard you release a small whine, feeling the emptiness and his essence dripping down your inner thigh.

Donnie quickly put his glasses back on and walked away to grab some water and a towel for you. While he was gone for that brief moment, you sat up, grimacing from the familiar soreness setting in. You hadn't felt this achy in over two years, back when you were both fresh adults, newly eager to explore the beginnings of your sexual life together.

Once your turtle lover returned, he insisted on helping you clean up despite your protests about him being just as messy. Nevertheless, he was determined, so you let him help subconsciously avoiding your inner folds to leave them coated with his essence. After ensuring you were comfortable, he took care of himself.

After redressing lightly, you headed into the kitchen, taking the water Donnie had provided with you. Following a session like that, you definitely needed some food. Donnie, meanwhile, simply pulled up his underwear and lingered in the kitchen, watching you closely. His instincts urged him to stay nearby.

His mind was still slightly clouded from the spontaneous moment, but not enough to impair his decision-making. He had a gut feeling that the intense desire might return. It was confusing, though, why such behavior was manifesting in the first place, especially since nothing specific seemed to trigger his sudden, overwhelming urge to take you right then and there on the couch.

And your poor couch. It was probably ruined from your activities now. You two had used it like dogs in heat. Huh. Like dogs in heat. In heat. Heat. Heat!

Donnie's eyes widened impossibly with realization. He and his brothers were now at a sexually mature age. Furthermore, it was that time of year—mating season for red-eared sliders, when they succumb to their need to breed.

Oh God, he was in heat and completely unprepared for it. He cringed at the thought of what his brothers must be enduring without a partner to satisfy their reproductive urges. He guessed it was wrong to assume they wouldn’t experience it just because they hadn't felt it immediately after reaching puberty. Casting a long glance in your direction as you prepared packaged ramen, Donnie walked into the living room to grab his phone and sent Leo a text. It was around this time that his family usually gathered for dinner.

Donnie: How’s things going at the lair?

The self-taught scientist received a swift reply from Leo, who was always prompt when responding to Donnie, knowing it wouldn’t be just another meme or silly pun. Unlike Raph and Mikey, who enjoyed sending Leo those sorts of messages just to tease him.

Leo: Everything fine

Leo: Why? Should there be something happening?

Donnie lifted a brow. Donnie: No, no! I was just checking in! See ya later He set his phone down on the coffee table, his lips pursing in confusion. Leo wasn’t one to mislead about the state of their close-knit family, so surely everything was fine with them. It seemed the issue was just with him. Perhaps it was because he was the only one among his brothers who had any sort of sexual experience.

Donnie turned at the sound of your feet pattering across the floor as you returned with two bowls of steaming ramen. He couldn't really complain. Not when you approached him, your body adorned with such beautiful marks, a testament to the intensity of their earlier moments together.

Since you were around, maybe this experience won’t be so bad.

Tagging:@mrghostings, @whygz @supershiny-raven Interested in getting tagged? Come check it out!

Like what you read? Check out my masterlist to see if you find anything else!

#tmnt bayverse #tmnt #tmnt donatello #tmnt x reader #tmnt donnie #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #tmnt bayverse x reader #tmnt x reader smut #tmnt donnie x reader #tmnt 2014 x reader #tmnt 2016 x reader

193 notes · View notes

raytorosaurus · 2 years

Text

the only thing you really have to understand about geoff rickly is that he was created in a lab to be your weird as fuck eccentric high school english teacher who is mercilessly mocked and psychologically tortured by most of the class because he’s a very easy target but dearly adored by the kids who are about to figure out they’re trans because he is also deeply lovable and has a face you could come out to. and he was one semester away from becoming exactly this when the universe took a left turn and he accidentally became a rockstar who influenced the direction of an entire subculture of music. and ever since then the universe has been trying to make up for this little mishap by punishing him with a series of misfortunes almost poetic in their magnitude. he IS the tragic postmodern protagonist he should be trying to critically analyse with bunch of unenthusaistic sixteen-year-olds who only know how to deal with their unfortunate crush on him by bullying him.

#'what misfortunes do you mean' bro if i tried to type them out it would take me literally hours #the ONLY people more unlucky than him are the rest of no devotion but he currently shares their curse #geoff rickly #*

2K notes · View notes

xxscarletxrosexx · 5 months

Text

A Linguistic Analysis of the Spelling Names "Ania" and "Anya" (and the chapter and languages of Ostania)

This includes spoilers from Short Mission 11, or Chapter 90.1

It's not a secret that Anya's (Ania) name change was officialized along with Loid (Lloyd) and Yor (Yoru/Yolanda) in July 2019. I do recall that our loveable Forger family had different spellings in the early manga releases. Many believed that it was Endo-san's way to cover up the spelling mistake, but I believe that, whether or not the origin and/or intention was a mistake, it paved a beautiful opportunity for a deep dive into linguistics and character analysis on Anya Forger.

First, I'd like to address my thoughts on "ANIA" as the spelling. Here are a few of my impressions on this:

"ANIA" could be perceived as her original spelling because wherever she came from used this spelling.

"ANIA" could just be her limitation as a child when it came to spelling her name.

"ANIA" could be an acronym from her lab that probably served the purpose of her existence.

"ANIA" could be the name of her mother/creator. And she was subjected to share the same name of her creator for "sourcing" purposes.

"ANIA" when applied to numerology number, reinforced her code name which is 007 (which is super meta to me, but probably is a coincidence because we all know 007 was Endo's way of referencing James Bond). S/O to @momentocollector for sharing this!

Second, I'd like to address "ANIA" as an identity for our precious baby girl.

"Ania" is the chosen spelling. This could possibly mean that this is her real name and how it should be spelled (You, as the owner of your name have every right to decide what your name should be, spelled, or pronounced after all).

"Ania" could possibly be an influence of either her mother-tongue language's spelling.

"Ania" could possibly be due to her limitation of spelling. (I don't think she is aware of how her name should be spelled.)

Recall that Yor carved out Anya's name as "Ania" and didn't question it. This could be a reflection of Yor's own lack of familiarity of Ostanian orthography since she is academically limited, and she would have listened to how Anya would have wanted her name to be spelled. Furthermore, this tells me that Yor's absence of questioning reflects that she accepts her daughter no matter who she is, be it "Ania" or "Anya".

Third, I'd like to address "ANYA" as her name's spelling.

"A-N-Y-A" is the spelling that her papa gave her, which tells her that she can now be on the same playing field as her parents. Their names and titles are all "masks" in this masquerade that they call "Forger". So, to little Anya, it means that she finally belongs with someone. Anya has essentially found "her home".

We also know that Franky did do a lot of paperwork and found that "Anya" is the spelling that was written down on her adoption papers. This reinforces that "Anya" is the standard Ostanian orthography of her name.

I perceive Loid as a person replicating the "average Ostanian" (since this is a deep cover mission after all), so to also tell her that her name is spelled a certain way reinforces that she has a new identity as an "Ostanian child". (I find this quite ironically poetic because it's a "fake man" giving a "fake name" to his "fake daughter").

I also see that when Anya's eyes light up, it could also mean that this new identity in her spelling change meant she was finally liberated from her days as a lab experiment and living in an orphanage.

Fourth, I'd like to address spelling etymology.

Since I'm not a Japanese linguist expert, I found @connoisseursdecomfort post to be quite educational when it came to Japanese spelling.

What we learn from the above post is that "Ania" is an acceptable name spelling in "Old Japanese". But as time progressed, the spelling changed to "Anya" which is the modern-day spelling of this name (this may tie into Anya's character lore).

We can track "i" becomes "y" in the evolution of the alphabet from Phoenician (c. 1000 BC) to Archaeic Greek (c. 750 BC). S/O to @rachellysebrook for this link. (Again, what this reinforces is Anya's background with an unidentified mother country/mother tongue language).

Another thing is that Yor Forger did not react to the spelling of "Ania". It could possibly be that she recognized Anya's limitation, given that her daughter already had poor scores since her admission.

We also learned that Yor, a real Ostanian, seems to be limited with Ostanian orthography which is most likely due to her dropping out of school to take care of Yuri (fake Ostanian /j). From her interaction with Anya, off-screen, it appears that Yor seems indifferent to spelling standards of names (Which is nice! She is subtly against society's norm and I love her for that). Had she been aware of the spelling, she would have been the one to ask instead of Loid. (But again, it must be Loid because it's poetic and has a much more meaningful interaction between "Loid" and "Anya").

Fifth, I'd like to address the name's (possible) impact on character purpose in the story.

"Anya" means mother in Hungarian (S/O to @httplovecraft1890. This inspired my thoughts on "Ania" as a name in the lab). Could this possibly be an inspiration or coincidence? It could be a stretch, but perhaps Anya's purpose in the lab is that she's a "mother weapon" for war.

"Ania" means "gracious" and "merciful" according to Google. Which makes me think that the lab scientists went with this name because it would represent her purpose as a weapon of war. Perhaps Ania becomes the "truth serum" and could be seen as the "angel of death" because she knows the war captor's thoughts and inevitably they are executed (a possible headcanon).

Sixth, I'd like to discuss the factors of the mysterious "unidentified language".

Anya did use "oui" in the anime when Loid had adopted her. This automatically made me think her possible origins could be French, but it could also take another step back in the language family: Romance. What makes this work is that we treat "Classical Language" as a dead language based on what we read/saw in the manga/anime like Latin. Anya has an innate potential to be bi-/multilingual.

Bonus: Seventh, I'd like to talk about the languages in this anime (This is a bit of a ramble but since we're talking about linguistics, I thought why not)...

Based on the dialogues spoken in the anime, we can confirm that English exclamatory (Oh my God, Goddammit, Shit, Wow, Elegant, etc.) and the Japanese language are the main components of the Ostanian language. This is reinforced by many characters who have used English expressions (Loid, Yuri, Yor, Anya, Damian, Henderson, etc.)

What does bug me is whether or not "oui", a French exclamatory, should be categorized as part of the Ostanian language or if that should be categorized for Anya's hidden lore. The reason is that when Loid/Twilight heard Anya say "oui" in front of him, he did not question it. (Perhaps he was too tired to process this, or he excused it as something Anya could have seen on TV and is merely mimicking. I really don't think Twilight would be the type to excuse this realization had he not had the aforementioned state of mind). I'm leaning more towards the latter as this is from Anya's mother tongue language.

In conclusion (or tldr;): "Ania" may be her real name, but "Anya" is her new identity as part of the Forgers.

If you read everything, thank you for your time! The linguist in me is so happy that Endo-san is steeping his foot into linguistic territory. As short as this chapter was, it said A LOT to me linguistically and provided more details to the scraps of lore that we know of Anya but it also tells us a bit more about Yor, Loid/Twilight, and Ostania.

#spy x family #spy x family spoiler #spy x family chapter 90.1 #Anya Forger #Ania #Anya #name analysis #manga chapter analysis #analysis #Spy x family Analysis #linguistics #orthography #loid forger #yor forger #scarlymadeathing #scarlydidathing #scarlywroteathing

249 notes · View notes

seireiteihellbutterfly · 5 months

Text

Bleach Headcanons : Oddities Part 2

More weird stuff that members of the Gotei 13 do. Part 1 can be found here.

Genryusai Yamamoto

Enjoys knitting and spends his evenings creating intricate scarves and blankets for his squad members. He considers it a form of meditation and finds solace in the rhythmic clicking of the knitting needles.

Has a hidden stash of adorable cat-themed trinkets in his office, gifts from squad members over the years.

Has a peculiar habit of conducting morning exercises with his subordinates, insisting on leading synchronized stretching sessions that include overly enthusiastic jumping jacks and cartwheels, much to everyone's surprise.

Shunsui Kyoraku

Composes dramatic, overly poetic love letters to his favorite sake brands, expressing his undying devotion and appreciation for their taste.

Is known to challenge squad members to bizarre competitions, such as a haiku battle or a contest to see who can take the longest nap. He always claims victory, regardless of the actual outcome.

Keeps a stash of disguises in his office and occasionally infiltrates other squads just for fun, but he's always caught due to his distinctively lazy demeanor

Izuru Kira

Has a secret collection of adorable plush toys hidden in his office. Whenever he's stressed, he takes a break with these plushies, assigning different voices and personalities to each one.

Creates a mini zen garden in his office and spends hours meticulously arranging the sand and tiny rocks, finding solace and inner peace in its careful maintenance.

Collects unusual stationery and spends his downtime experimenting with different types of ink and quills.

Toshiro Hitsugaya

Develops an unexpected fascination with ice sculpting and spends his free time sculpting intricate, mini ice replicas of notable Seireitei landmarks. He insists they're just practice, but secretly cherishes them in his office.

Unintentionally is a magnet for lost animals in the Seireitei, and his squad often finds him shooing out stray cats and birds from his office.

Becomes overly protective of the squad's refrigerator, labeling each item with his name and fiercely defending his snacks from any potential thieves within the squad, even going as far as setting up "ice traps" to catch unauthorized snack bandits

Zaraki Kenpachi

Pretty sure he’s adopted a pet kitten that he secretly dotes on in his spare time. He refuses to acknowledge its existence in front of anyone and grumbles about "just tolerating its presence," but his squad members catch glimpses of him sneaking it bits of fish and milk.

Started a food stall called "Kenpachi's Cooking Corner" where he attempts to teach his squad how to cook. The sessions usually end in chaos and burnt food, but everyone participates out of fear of upsetting him.

Enjoys reading shoujo manga in secret and has a vast collection stashed away in his office, fiercely denying their existence whenever someone accidentally discovers them, insisting that he got them for Yachiru.

Mayuri Kurotsuchi

Holds "Bring Your Weirdest Invention to Work" days in his lab, encouraging his subordinates to create the most outlandish and impractical gadgets imaginable. However, he always mysteriously makes his own invention vanish right before the judging, claiming it was too advanced for everyone else to comprehend

Holds a weekly "Fashion Forward Friday" where he experiments with unconventional clothing designs, resulting in outrageous outfits that his squad members struggle to comprehend

Has a peculiar habit of meticulously organizing his lab by arranging test tubes and equipment according to their color gradients, which nobody dares disturb for fear of incurring his wrath

Becomes obsessed with perfecting the art of making perfectly shaped and flavored jelly desserts. His squad members often find themselves unwilling taste-testers for his latest bizarre jelly concoctions

#bleach #bleach headcanons #bleach fandom #bleach ideas #bleach writing #anime headcanons #bleach yamamoto #bleach shunsui #bleach izuru #bleach hitsugaya #bleach kenpachi #bleach mayuri #yamamoto genryusai #shunsui kyoraku #izuru kira #toshiro hitsugaya #kenpachi zaraki #mayuri kurotsuchi

153 notes · View notes

artful-aries · 1 year

Text

Genshin Headcanons: Ways They Show Affection (Dottore, Dehya)

Dottore

Affection is not the Doctor’s forte

The definition of calm, cool, and collected, he’s not going to just give you a kiss on your cheek or hold you in his arms

If anything, you’ll find yourself begging for him to pay some attention to you

The man just often gets sucked into his research, almost forgetting about your existence. You’re still special though, if anyone else interrupted his research, they would be dead by now

Still, for him to stop his research and actually give you attention, the stars need to align and he needs to be in a good mood

On these lucky days, he will gladly hold you hand as he works, or perhaps sit in his lap if it doesn’t impede his research and you promise to not squirm around too much

If you are really good and let him finish his research for the day, Dottore will give you the affection that you crave. Kisses, a warm embrace, the whole nine yards. He’s just….a little intense about it

Takes the time to tell you how wonderful he thinks your body is, but not in a sexy way

The way he talks, it almost sounds like he either thinks you’re the divine among mortals, or a prime candidate for organ harvesting. You still aren’t sure which he leans towards

Outside of physical affection, Dottore is thoughtful enough to leave you notes before he heads off to the lab to research. They are simple; telling you to take care of yourself, where you can find him, sending you his regards, nothing poetic but it shows that he does think about you.

He gives gifts…in the form of the results of his latest research. Sometimes it genuinely neat things, like brighter, more sustainable magical crystals. Other times, it’s strange amalgamations of things you rather remain blissfully unaware of

It’s almost like he’s showing off his abilities, like a cat that brings back a dead mouse for you to praise them for

Dehya

Her affection is rough, but it comes in abundance

She totally gives you noogies on top of your head, plays pranks on you to get you flustered, or straight up manhandles you and flings you into an oasis pool. Having grown up mostly around men her whole life, she doesn’t see anything wrong with this

If you complain she will try to be more gentle; she won’t give you noogies anymore, but she won’t stop the pranks. Sorry, she thinks your shocked face is hilarious

Physical affection comes naturally to Dehya, she’s always got an arm around you, planting kisses on your cheek if other mercenaries stare at you for too long, etc

When the two of you alone, Dehya almost gets nervous about touching you. She wants to so bad, but she psyches herself out, thinking that she might go too far and make you uncomfortable

Dehya is a good gift giver too, she secretly saves up money from her jobs to get you nice trinkets and things that she finds in her travels

Her fatal flaw is that she is bad about taking you in dates; she spends a lot of quality time with you, but rarely thinks about taking you to any place fancy

It’s not that she doesn’t love you enough, the concept just seems a bit weird to her. Why would she take you to a stuffy place when she can spend that time stargazing with you out in the desert?

If you insisted she would make a good effort, but you would be able to tell she’s a little on edge and uncomfortable the entire time

The best time for Dehya is sitting under the shade of a tree at an oasis, soaking her feet in the water with you as you both laugh about everything and nothing at all

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons #genshin x reader #reader insert #genshin imagine #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact imagine #genshin headcanon #Dottore #dottore x reader #dehya #dehya x reader

396 notes · View notes

normal-internet-user · 1 year

Note

may we please have a donnie x reader oneshot where the reader goes home after hanging out in donnie’s lab with him, but now he’s a lot more distracted than he was before because now instead of occupying his room, they’re occupying his thoughts? please, and thank you 💜 your writing’s great btw!

Decided to go with Rise Donnie since I love writing for him!

DISTRACTIONS

♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡

Summary: Donnie gets distracted by the thought of you.

Warnings: None!

Requested: @sleeplessdreamer14

GN Reader!

....................................

Donnie groaned in frustration.

He was attempting to finish fixing some bugs in a new program of his, but he just couldn't focus.

He was distracted.

Distracted by you.

By the thought of you to be more accurate.

You had left his lab almost two hours ago, but even in your absence you filled his mind. He knew why, and he hated that he knew. This would be so much easier if he could just live in ignorant bliss.

But alas, you had his attention and heart.

So here he sat. Unable to focus on anything but the thought of you. The thought of your smile. Of your kindness and your heart. The thought of you was so prominant in his head, he felt like a fool.

A lovesick fool whom had fallen into the stupor he had so hypocritically laughed at others for.

The fool whom wished he could shake these dangerous feelings, for in his eyes, love was the most dangerous game of them all.

Yes, what a fool he was, but he was your fool, and as much as he hated it, as much as it terrified him, Donnie was glad you were his distraction.

....................................

Dude I love writing for Rise Donnie, it's an excuse to be poetic and dramatic =>

#tmnt #tmnt x reader #x reader #rottmnt #donnie x reader #save rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise!donnie x reader #donatello x reader #hamato donatello #Normie writes

362 notes · View notes

cherrsnut · 3 months

Text

Hostage - Chapter 6

Finnick Odair x Healer!Reader

Summary: Up until now, your life has been a solitary one. Being the sole owner of an herbal shop, and apothecary to many fishermen who have been injured. Just when your life seemed to follow the routine you were so used to, your life turns a 360 when you’re suddenly taken away for the 67th Annual Hunger Games. This turn of events forces you to accept the idea the Grim Reaper is stalking close behind you, faster than you had hoped for.

Tags: Extremely Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Angst, Typical THG Violence, Forced Prostitution, Forced Lab Rat, Injury, Mental Health Deterioration, Psychological/Physical Torture, Death, Alcohol/Drug Consumption, Medical Malpractice, Fluff (bc they deserve it).

Word Count: 11.7k

Previous // Next

Chapter 6

It was day nine on the training facility. Which only meant it was three days to go until your feet stood on the harsh grounds of the Arena. Every passing day was another needle piercing your lungs, as you noticed the countdown coming closer to its end, you realized it was made harder for you to breathe. It wasn’t the muscle memory your brain was taught, it was as if suddenly you had forgotten the simple act of breathing, and all you could think about was controlling the air currents that sucked in and out of your mouth.

It was like your lungs were holding hostage the innocent air particles that were only out there to help you, and you felt like you coudn’t breathe now that the timer was close to its set.

This past few days you’d started to lose faith in God. It’s not like you blindly believed in him to begin with, but with the pained breaths you were expulsing, you slowly felt any sort of belief from a greater force be spilled out along with it.

Whether it was God, destiny or whatever, you soon struggled to be able to believe in any of that, because right now your position was different. You weren’t in that privileged stance; then, you had a home, work, food and water, you had whatever you needed to live, and it was easier to believe in that then, because you didn’t think about your own survival.

But it was different now, all of that was over. And after the Reaping it was a hard reality check that, the world indeed didn’t owe you a cent. And so, your Deist idea slowly faded into nothing, you simply lost faith in any entity, and at this point even yourself.

You didn’t know what you believed in, and it wasn’t like it mattered anyway. Whatever religion or personal truth was soon going to be vanished along your scattered body on the grounds of the Arena, and it felt very much like you were being executed for a crime you hadn’t committed. Punished for the wrongdoings of another person, and the wrong deeds of their fault had your life shorten, while the true perpetrator was out there enjoying their prolonged one, and they better understood their guilty freedom was in exchange of yours.

Yeah, you didn’t know what to believe in anymore, and it didn’t matter anyway. That’s why you abstained yourself from believing in anything, and if that meant you stopped looking at God’s metaphors in life, then so be it. Or to make it or poetic, you followed what Nietzsche once said “God is dead”.

By day nine it was obvious the Career group was formed. From District 1, we had Ezra and Ava, both loving siblings to each other, but definitely with lethal intentions to the rest of the Tributes, possibly even to their team members when the chance arose.

For District 2 we had the memorable Birch, and Nyla. You had found her curious for her preferred weapon choice to be a fishing spear, since it seemed it was expressly placed for the participants of District 4. But you wouldn’t judge her skills on her weapon, especially when you saw her expertise on handling that piece of weaponry, earning her the fitting title of hunter and it only seemed natural she was welcomed by the Careers.

Then came District 4, with none other than Vito and his double blades. It seemed Birch along Ezra had been interested in him not only through the way he handled the blades. Finnick’s games were still influential, since it only had been two years ago since he came out victorious, and they found his rapid net making to be the deciding factor for their admiration for him.

And lastly, were both Tributes of District 7, known for their lumberjack industry. It only took a quick look to realize as to why they were picked. Carter and Steph both had a muscular build, and they definitely exhuded strength and a feared determination of not backing down without a real fight.

You sighed looking at the formed group. It was disheartening the very knowledge that the strongest were in a group to fight off the weaker ones, and it felt bitterly unfair and personally against against you. Even more when Vito was along them and not you, meaning they saw you just as weak and useless as the rest, deserving to be killed right off the bat. Because for them, you had no use, comparing you with dead weed of the Arena, and they still found more ways to exploit the dry grass than yourself.

Your eyes met the grey tones of the slightly pigmented green of his irises, maintaining contact and understanding of each other’s presence. Carter’s eyebrow ticked up in acknowledgement. The ghost of your eyes haunted his, as he could feel the hoplessness that you body emanated, even when being many feet apart from each other.

You saw his lips curl up into a small smile. He hoped your grasped his gesture, to let it embrace you in a warm hug, all so he wouldn't have to see your present frown and to envelop yourself into his reassurance.

It wasn’t hard to comprehend the meaning behind his expression, he was just trying to make you feel better. But it seemed rather complicated to feel at ease when he already belonged to a deadly group, one of which had a participant that was a psycho and determined on pointing at you with the red dot of his invisible assault rifle.

But you still understood he wanted express his sympathetic side to you. You could imagine, and hoped, his secret hobby or lingering daydream didn’t involve the exciting thought of killing other people, unlike the Tributes of District 1 and 2. But rather, he was like you and Vito, here against their will, and obligated you all to be in the survival game by the choice of an mere outsider. And tho whomever created the Hunger Games to begin with, you didn’t have the prettiest words or thoughts about that person. And of course, you would never say them outloud. By the way Scarlett had reacted each time you cursed, it was like an unforgiving blasphemy to even proclaim your deepest negative thoughts about the Games.

You returned him the smile, unknown to him that your teeth greeted through your anxiety, to calm your scraping words of wanting to hide yourself to the world so no one could find you and, somehow be able to sneak your way out of having to be in the battling grounds. But that scenario was close to impossible, so you stopped yourself from thinking too much about it before you’d consider it.

”I get it, I’d smash. Although Finnick is more of my type though. But let’s get back to training, shall we?” The whispering words brushed past the side of your face, tickling lightly the crown of your ear with his warm breath.

And you stopped, before looking up at him. Your mind blank as it tried to grab onto any reason that was slowly flying away out from your ears. But your brain seemed to be damaged from the from broken wires by Vito’s words, and the sparking of the electricity was dancing around your mind, a sign of the overworked brain from a rush of confusing curiosity over what he meant by those words, which you quickly understood un thus the short time span electrocution that jumbled your brain around.

You mind run miles, and yet you weren’t unable to utter the words.

“With what I’ve seen so far, believe me, girlie. You’ll need it” he snickered at you. Your lips kept on closing and opening slightly, his extra piece of information meant to confuse you further, you knew that, and you still gave into his mind games.

Vito coudn’t help but hung a playful smirk up his mouth, amused by the rush of thoughts flashing behind your eyes. He felt victorious of course, he had his desired outcome so you would come out of that concerned trance he noticed you were having on a regular basis at training. But he didn’t expect you to have come out in such a funnily manner, that he coudn’t help the light giggles. Even more so at the creased brows you formed as you tried to compute further his words.

You managed to say something. “I didn’t know?” you said clumsily with a joking smile. You huffed a smile out at the situation. He lifted his hand up to his lips and chuckled further at your comment. Your expression was priceless in his eyes, and he coudn’t help himself from leaving you stunned like that. Oh, how much he loved doing that to you.

Caesar Flickerman had just called your name, his infamous smile, known to the whole of Panem sat across his well-known face. The many cheers that rang through the stage, from clapping sounds to the impatient voices of the citizens of the Capitol, were awaiting your shining entrance.

A few hours ago, the examination went… not so great. Vito had done his best in teaching you the refined arts of the knives, and you could grasp the basic concept of attcak, slice, and stab… that was it. Two weeks to learn everything about hunting down an vicioius animal one on one seemed like a challenging feat, not say practically impossible. So when you were standing below your future sponsors, it felt very much silly of you to try and use that weapon to show off your non-existent high levels skills, especially considering Vito was next in line. You cringed at that thought for the thousandth time today. It was embarrassing, you could say that much. So much so you didn’t even try to look up at them unless necessary. So when you did, you were met with the bored looks of the experienced viewers that had seen decades worth of fighters, and you wouldn’t be catalonged as one no matter how much you tried to disguise yourself as one.

But it’s not like you could do anything else. If they had even bothered bringing in some herbs or chemicals, you could’ve shown your more scientific knowledge. You knew a hundred ways to elaborate toxic poisons, and a millions ways to create antidotes for each and every one of them, that would’ve definitely earned you a more prideful look on your end. But then again, you were sure the Sponsors weren’t quite interested for you to elaborate remedies for basically anything. Afterall, they only wanted to see people killing each other; they just wanted to see violent and gruesome deaths, they wanted to hear their screams of horror as a familiar face was draining the life away from them, like a vampire sucking every ounce of blood to ensure your dried death. And being a doctor kind of went directly against what they preached. You weren’t like a hidden gem to them, more like a pain in the ass if you were able to heal someone back to life. And in the circle of betting games, the randomized traps scattered across the Arena, had the same element of uncernaty as the Sponsors had now that your card was placed on the table. Because now it meant you could take care of the Tributes. Your extensive knowledge was like a direct threat aganst the chosen Tributes they laid their money on. It wasn't just who would be more likely to come out victorious from a logical perspective, because you were brought into the mix. It wasn’t just strength, ability, and speed what they had to analyze, but also an element of luck. And unfortunately for them, that was something that coudn’t be measured in a logical way.

You sighed. The interview was your last chance to make people like you. If your skills wouldn't make them on your side, you hoped that maybe they would try to connect with you more personally. Perhaps if they felt bad about your death, you could win over their hearts. You needed to convince them you dying would only affect them negtively in the end.

You let another shaky breath, and stepped forward. The cling clang the heel needle resonated on the smooth and shining surface you were standing on, only to become completely soundless as you walked over, to none other than the famous blue haired waiting for you. You made sure your thighs turned to hard muscle, careful as to not be clumsy and fall infront of what seemed about five hundred people. Their eyes scanned you whole, so you coudn’t risk doing a mistake in front of all of them. You returned your gaze, shy and nervous as you wondered around the gigantic audience ahead of you.

It looked like a painting from the Impressionist era. Your first description of what was reflecting back your eyes was “A lot of colour”. Many dots of vibrant shapes and colors, raging from the warm tones of yellow and orange, to cooler ones like purple and tale blue; all painted above a black canvas.

The shining lights were flashing your eyes, needing a moment to readjust them to make better off the people of the Capitol. They were wearing odd and eccentric hats, an that was what you had previously confused to be expert brush strokes of an creative artist, was simply just the fashion designs of the Capitol.

Their eyes roamed over your every inch, awaiting what sort of good time you would give them. Whereas for you, they were on a dark canvas, they in turn they saw you against a white one, where your background scenery was filled with many sparkling glitter surrounded your promotional poster, with your face hanging there confidently.

Mr. Flickerman led you to sit opposite him, sitting on a home-like modernized version of an armchair. With the same colour as your dress, the designer was right to add the pillow below you. It was big, for anyone to regain themselves in whichever position they wanted and still be comfortable at the cute armchair. It reminded you of the warm and cozy cafeteria down the street of the Herbal Shop. And if you werte to recommend it to someone, you’d sincerely tell them it was best served under the winter weather with a hot chocolate protecting you from viruses that threatened to infect everyone.

“So Ms. Doctor from Distrcit 4, I’ve heard of something peculiar the other day” he started looking at you intensely. The pause, of course, for dramatic effect. Now you understood where Scarlett was coming from with the way she expressed her emotions. “I heard-”

Another pause. This was starting to feel gut wrenching. The large amount of people weren’t helping either, and you’ve been stuck in a cycle of insecurity of wanting to come across as likeable to them, and you weren’t sure how you could accomplish that. The first impression was was the deciding factor for the initial building blocks of a friendship, and that level of anxiety of the what ifs had your insides flip five times.

“You healed, none other than the Victor of the 65th Hunger Games, our Finnick Odair” his voice all of a sudden strengthened in volume, coming out in thrilled particles that drugged everyone replicating his mood, one of jovial enthisiasm. There were slight gasps in surprise, but definitely a lot of murmuring between themselves. Your eyes opened in shock, you had completely forgotten all about that.

Still astounded, you scanned over the room perfectly, the singular emotion that traveled in the air everyone breathed between each other, was that of simple curiosity. They wanted to hear your next words, they wanted to know what you brought to the table, they wanted to who you were.

This was the great start you needed. Even if it hurt your soul admitting it, you had to appreciate Scarlett's input for spreading this piece of information, so diligently it even reached the ears of the biggest TV host of the Capitol. Not only for your own sake, but as well for hers, you had to make the fullest of this little advantage.

Scarlett understood the public perception and opinion like no other; and when it came to Finnick’s name being brought up, it was your best bet to grow interest for yourself by using him.

You smiled brightly at what he had said. Making sure the shining of the lights reflected on your teeth just the same as the way your eyes sparkled in hopeful optimism. If you needed to sway public opinion to be on your side, this was your best bet to touch their hearts, and who knows? Maybe tickle them a bit to make their insides flutter happily.

You let a giggle escape through the microphone. “Yes” the tone of your voice thrilled with the taste on candied apple, to feed them the explosion of sweet delight down their throats.

“At the time, his fishing team came rushing in my Herbal Shop one day. You know, after they had injured themselves like they usually did” you started widening your grin at what you just came up with. It felt like throwing Finnick overboard, which was only more unfair on his end, now that he wasn’t with you to defend himself from the words that came out of your mouth.

But with these people, it was better the more you spoke, rather than staying idly still and quiet, in hopes the ordeal would pass by to detense the anxiety building up a tight knot from inside your throat. Even better? When your words sounded like a caramelized drink to their ears.

“You know, Finnick can be a little clumsy at times” you admitted. The microphone caught the way your tone dropped a few octaves as if mimicking you were in a vulnerable crowded place, giving away uncommunicated information that would make any Finnick fans squeal from joy. You placed a finger up your lips.

“But shhh, ‘kay? Don’t tell anyone I said that” you opened your mouth, showing your baring teeth to the audience. They laughed at your playful and cheeky personality that you gleefully showed them.

It worked, somehow it worked. But this wasn’t the time to get comfortable, the show was still going, and you’d give them the best version of yourself. You needed to leave your astounded expression for later, when you weren’t in front of televised cameras that were ready to pick apart the little of what you had shown them. Later, you would try to come up with reasons as to why it was so easy to captivate them, with whatever you had said to them.

Your very words that spoke enchantingly brushed the thin line between the truth and the uncertain lie, and to be honest with yourself, you didn’t know if they were either truthful or not. Because that wasn’t what was important right now, you just needed their attention to you.

A sudden realization hit you. They didn’t care about the Tributes, at least not nearly enough as the sponsors did, and that was only because they had a stack of money they were risking losing, a large amount that would make a significant difference in their wallets.

The public just wanted to see a show, and so you’d give them a show. They loved the gossip between the people they cataloged as untouchable, and that was evident with what you had told them about Finnick. If that’s what they wanted, you’d show them your secret facade that seems openly visible for them, as tasty as the sweetest honey they had never been able to come across before. One no matter the riches of the Capitol, they could never recreate that something that felt so pure, yet came from the inner depth of deception. You’d make them feel that a reincarnation of a Tribute like you will never happen again in near the history.

The blue haired chuckled at your words. You’d show them a different kind of spark, to make them feel you were the only one that could cure them from their embarrassing problems of the high society, an escape from their hard reality.

They had the nerve to complain about societal standards when the rest of the Dictricts were dirtying their backs with sweat and earth, whilst they washed themselves in the cash at the expense of your hard unpaid overwork.

Even with those staining feelings in your soul about them, you'd give them what they wanted. In the end you were still a slave of the Capitol, no matter how much you hated it. You shone under the lights of the stage, an eight-pointed golden star in replacement of your dull pupils.

If the wanted this, the show must go on then.

“You are a lovely girl” he started. “But unfortunately I wouldn't place my bet you” he lamented, caressing his eyebrows jokingly. Your heart dropped, and somehow you felt like he could see through your intentions. No, they’re not that smart to realize that. All they wanted was a big fun fest, and desired a good time, that’s why they had come here to begin with.

You gasped, learning from the best, none other than the unbeatable Scareltt. She was probably looking at you right now, Vito, Finnick and Mags beside her, expectant as to what actions you would carry out. You could sense her eyes, a look of determination, and hopeful you wouldn't miss this chance to change your game.

“Mr. Flickerman, you hurt me with those words” you placed a hand directly at your heart, theatrically trying to protect his confession from piercing your heart lika a dagger. You pouted very much staged, and of course in a joking manner.

“I’ll let you know, if you were a Tribute, I would not hesitate in rooting for you” you winked at him cheekily, a sly playful smirk coming up to your face. He only chuckled further at your words, earning you the clapping audience followed with warm laughter.

You could feel it, the way the citizens wanted to have a closer relationship with you. And to accomplish that you would need to captivate them further. Make them feel like there was a close friendship with them, make them feel important by sharing your masking secrets with them, make them believe they were present in your life.

Your lashes opened further at the realization. You just decoded how to make them like you, and you practically could hear your mind sing sang the little tunes of confidence that exhaled your body. This was a different kind of game, one the most cunning with the trickiest mind games would surely win over their hearts. And you had to be the best, so much so none of the other Tributes would beat you in this little game of yours, and you just needed to ace this. Especially when you were the creator of the rules to begin with.

“Tell us a little about yourself” Mr. Flickerman said between chuckles.

“Well, you know I’m a Doctor…” you thought further. “But do you know I’m that of a poison maniac” you admitted out loud. Everyone turned silent, and you could read the question as to what you meant by those yours. Your smile widened at the stunned look of the Host. They weren’t expecting that.

Bingo!

“Do tell us more about it” desired the important Host. “I’m sure everyone here wants to know as well” he directed his attention to his audience, earning the high tones of approval he was seeking. He tilted his face to his side, concentrating his look on your moving lips, impatient to know what you were about to reveal.

You let a dry snicker escape your mouth, one that ringed at the back of your tongue. You eyed him, with another convincing smile. “Being an medic, it’s only natural I give but the best quality medicine out there. And for that, I would poison myself to find the best remedies” you informed. You bit your lip down expectant as to what the reaction of the public would be.

“Wow. What an unexpected turn of events” he finally roared, his voice echoing in every corner of the set. The audience though, stayed quiet, and you could feel them staring in awe at what you had let out.

“Yup. From strange looking fruits, to snake bites. I have tried them all. An of course, that means I’m tolerant to most poisons” you turned to the audience, giving them a cheeky look. You just thought of the best response for this.

“I believe there's a saying that goes by ‘Don’t judge a book by its cover’. Next time don’t underestimate me, I have a few cards up my sleeve, Mr.” you giggled through the microphone. Mr. Flickerman simply smiled in amusement. The audience ruptured in an applause, with some people whistling which cut though the noise, at the revelation that you had kept hidden. You only chuckled more in flattery of their recognition of your talent. Your eyes readied on the blue haired, him giving you that of a laughing smile. Maybe it was a bit adventurous of you, but you winked at him jovially, earning him another round of chuckles.

When the noisy ambience died down, the blue haired Host turned serious again. And of course returned his unbearable pause. He knew what he was doing, creating intrigue among everyone that saw his show tonight, making everyone more focused with what he wanted to say. He opened his mouth to finally speak.

“We would love to keep talking to you,” he informed regretful at the sounds of disappointed guests among the public. “but I’m afraid time’s up”

“Aww, Mr Flickerman, you’re totally breaking my heart” you pouted in with a pitiful voice, all part of a playing joke.

“Don’t try to gulttrip me like that” he added, along with the laughs of the public.

You stood up, but before you left, there was something you needed to do to make sure you were the spotlight of the likeability between the Capitol.

“Love you all, and thank you for tonight” your hand placed on your lips, only to swiftly fly off to your captivating audience, blowing out loving kisses to them. And with that, you left the stage. And that you blissful mask was thrown away into the trash once you heard the roaring cheers for the next person behind you.

You never realized just how empty this kind of lively show would give you once the lights turned their focus on someone else. Your heart had turned like an empty void, and you came across something you hadn’t thought about during the show. The joy and elation you were showing was was never there to begin with, and it honestly left you exhausted having to overwork you body to achieve to emotions you wanted to convey.

“Love you all” the words you spoke earlier bouncing around your mind like a broken record, like it was trying to tell you something that you coudn’t quite grasp the concept of. Loving someone, you didn’t know what that even meant. Although you had never been loved by anyone, nor you have loved anyone before; unless motherly kind of love you supposed. But even with Edna, you weren’t quite sure if that was the case. And for the next five minutes you wondered around with that topic of interest, “What’s it like to love someone?” you muttered as you walked down the hallway to meet the rest of your team, already noticing they’re exciting movement towards you.

That question though, would quickly fade into the abyss of amnesia inside your mind, throwing away pieces of information that your brain deemed unnecessary worth remembering. Scarlett practically ran to you to give to the biggest, most suffocating hug you’ve the pleasure to experience, and for a moment you thought she was about to kill you right then and there from the sheer force, before the Hunger Games even commenced. She had really toned muscles, you thought.

You found yourself again at the balcony. It had been your comforting place in a way. When everything felt too real and suffocating, you simply came out to feel the seasonal wind against your face. No matter how high quality aircons are in the Capitol, nothing could beat the fresh air of the still night. Even the incoming noises of the busy city, coudn’t reach the high tower you were standing on. So high up you bet you could brush the texture of the soft clouds, only to find the disappointing reality, and to contrary to what you had hoped for. In return, your offering hand was covered in tiny cold droplets neatly placed on the surface of your skin from the forming rain that was happening inside the spongy clouds.

The cold humidity that exhuded a crashing reality to your silly thought. So it was evident you also felt the freezing particles of the night over your body, and with that, the winds that hide themselves during daytime, travelled further away into their destination under the beautiful moon shine.

You almost expected it to be Finnick, having met him last time in the exact same place, at the very same hour. But what gave away that it was indeed not your mentor’s presence was funnily the smell, it was warm and refreshing. It reminded you of what Athena had said to you days go, the smell of the sea never seemed to leave the sea shells when they touched each other , it was daring and in a beautifully wrapped up overpowered odor.

Vito smelled similar to Finnick, but your Tribute Partner’s was more capturing. It was a nice smell that anyone would willingly drown themselves into a sea of flower petals, and no one opposed to turn themselves under his very submission.

Finnick on the other hand, reminded you of the wild dandelions that grew a top of the mountains. Back home, when you needed provisions for medicine, you liked trekking up to the crown of a mountain about an hour away from your town. It was a wonderland of medicinal herbs, like God himself had planted them all for you. And without fail, you blew air out of those loving blooming dandelions, speaking away your impossible wishes and secrets. Fragile and soft to the touch, as light as the wind blew them through the air into the hidden places over the ocean, that’s how Finnick smelled like.

You looked up Vito. His brown skin glowed with the neon colors of the Capitol, but the real party was the reflection of said colors on his sclera, even more so the void of his black eyes showing that similar of an underground night club where everyone was welcomed, no matter how different they were labeled as by the unfair standards of society.

“Hey” he spoke quietly so as to not interrupt the peaceful stillness of the night. He wasn’t looking at you, and yet you still understood the serious undertone of his voice, already knowing the reasoning he wanted to talk to you. You didn’t need to be a genious to figure that one out. “Hey”

There was a moment of silence. The heaviness placed around both of your shoulders, the grief swirling your very essence into replicating those sorrowful eyes of yours. You huffed out air. It was exactly the same situation like having to see one of your family member's succumb to a lethal disease, fully knowing they weren’t going to make it, and you were left with the slow acceptance that you would never see them again. Never touch them, never feel them, like you somehow had to ignore the footprint they marked on your core memory, and having to live your days as the circle of life took away their presence, and you still too burdened by their ghostly unreal fingers walking along your skin.

It was unfair, because neither you or Vito deserved this, and you both knew this very fact. Why did you have to be punished by the crimes people you never met had atoned for? You have been even able to distract away your anger before, but now it was impossible for your unresolved gut feeling. Your throat squeezed at the feeling of that unfiltered emotion. But there was nothing you could do, because you were merely an ant in the way of a human shoe, the riched and powerful men couldn’t form an ounce of sympathy for you. And why would they? Your merely an insect living in their hunting society; you were invisible to them, so why would they care about what you had to say?

The crashing of your teeth were pressing against each other rather strong, and aggressively. A tight pain from your gums was a reflection that if you kept going, with what felt like an unlimited force, you’d end up breaking each tooth into merely tiny pieces, so small it could could fly away as powder.

A burning tear screamed its way down to you jaw, like a hurt soldier in the name of scalding revenge for taking his loved one away from him..

Vito let a breath out from the agony of the situation he got himself in. He looked at you, finding himself reflected in the same emotion of that female rage that was circling around in a rushed manner through the ducts of your veins.

“Tomorrow’s the day” he just said. And you hated the way he sounded so indifferent about it, like he gave up in that instant, like he had finally come to terms to the situation. But you hated yourself more, because you knew you should feel that way as well, you needed to accept tomorrow would be your grave. But it was one of those hard things in life you coudn’t quite grasp the concept of, it was one of those hard lessons were it only left you more confused every passing second. Because your death would be for absolutely nothing worth sacrificing yourself over for.

Another tear rolled down, this time taking the path to follow down the silhouette of your nose, only to sink down your lips like a damaged ship from a recent pirate fight, leaving you with the saltiness of the sourness you felt at the tip of your tongue.

“I’ll come back to get you. Don’t linger around the Cornucopia unless you want to die from the get go” he murmured the warning. But you were glad he still wanted to follow through the plan, a plan that only happened after the obvious acknowledgement that you were surely going to die if you didn’t have a willing participant to protect you. You were more than glad Vito was by your side.

Yet, you had another thought in mind. One very much different to the words he was speaking, and if he hadn’t felt the very same rage circling around his soul, Vito would have had trouble in trying to understanding what you were referring to.

”I hate them, Vito” you told him. “I hate them so much I could kill every single one of them”

He knew who you were referencing to, the stuck up people of the rich society of the Capitol. Even more so the sponsors whose empathy are as empty as a vacant lot, and he couldn't forgive President Snow for celebrating the Hunger Games for another year straight. To make a whole show about the death of another twenty three children and adolescents, to be nothing but a promotional cultural activity, like a national sport competition that needed to happen for the sake of Panem political affairs.

He tensed the corners of his lips into a frown. The built up tears that he promised himself he wouldn't let spill was threatening just behind his lashes to pour down his cheek. He bit his tongue unable to say anything, complicit of the confessing words that could lead you to your punishment. One that involved scissors, your tongue, no anesthesia and a lot of pain you weren’t ready to face.

Vito blamed you for making him tear up like that. He was trying to hold it, because it didn’t come from a place of sadness but rather the feeling of unfairness anger, that turned in an eternal resentment to seek out justice for the Capitol’s wrongdoings. Your words had hit straight to his chest, the cruel and cold words he welcomed in with open arms, because he had the same sentiment. Unlike you, it seemed easier to hide away that feeling into an old rusty box under a key he threw away into the ocean, so how did you open his chest to reveal his innermost gruesome desires?

The pure of your emotion was shared with him, and both of you cried through the fiery rage of the obligation you two had to complete. Both of you wished for the other to survive, while also drowning in self pity and a silent wish it was them who would come out victorious.

He clasped a hand behind your head and buried your face in his chest, letting you make an emotional mess all over his shirt. So after his invitation to ruining yourself on his clothes, you grabbed a hold of the rich textile behind his back, making sharp and hard wrinkles around were your fingers that were creating a fist, a burning sensation on your fingers from the slight rash at the stong grip.

And there the both of you stayed, venting away the crucial and clouding desires to take down this Roman Empire to build another one, based directly by your conjoined ideals. Ones you were sure the people from the future would look down upon your current systematic one, to preach your imaginary one.

A whimper escaped your lips, your cries becoming louder in that pit of uncontrollable fire. You were coming back from the wings of fantasy, and crashing down your unprotected landing to earth’s reality. A dry sob from the realization he would be separated from you so painfully soon.

“But the hardest part is leaving you” was what you wanted to say to him. He’d become your only friend, a bond built upon the same unfortunate situation, but still a friend nonetheless. You didn’t want to separate yourself from him. You didn’t want to die, you didn’t want him to die, you just wanted to be with him like this until the end of times, until Earth had become nothing but crust. For someone to find your fossilized rock, and coming across that of an emotive stone of two hugging skeletons, in each other embrace to face the chaotic disaster together.

But you didn’t want to die, you wanted to spend more time with him. You wanted the both of you to lose yourselves on the dry mountains of District 4; to swim and perhaps and eat fish he had gathered from the endless sea, and tell old pirate tell tales.

You didn’t want to die, and you didn’t want him to die. But that wish was simply unrealistic, in which fate didn’t have that wishful plan for the two of you. And fate had already spoken, and that meant you two wouldn't come out of this alive together.

“Fifteen” the countdown was halfway through. Your feet were stoned to the platform, as your veins run cold coursing through your body. You sucked in air, trying to stop the scraping thoughts of death from cutting around your soul.

“Thirteen” you gulped down hard, as a way to stop the gurgling feeling from your stomach to rise to your eyes, and start crying right there and then. The anticipated Hunger Games was close to commence, and for the first time a voice whispered in approval to something you had said earlier, you weren’t ready for this.

“Ten” by then you sucked in many more breaths, the anxiety overgrowing through your every artery, infecting your lungs into a garden of poisonous wild vegetation. Your chest heaved rapidly, trying to stabilize your tumultuous mind. Everything was hazy, and your eyes roamed every corner it could, trying to desperately find and hold onto anything that would put you into the guarding hands of safety. But this was the Hunger Games, you knew better than to blindly trust something or someone. And when it came to the Gamemakers, when you turned your back, their betrayal was exactly like a Judas kiss.

“Where’s Vito?” your voice got lost in the immense silence that surrounded you. He wasn’t next to you, and in his stead came the features of the terrified girl from District 5. Her brunette hair braided into twined low tails, giving her the absolute most innocent look on her.

Ice touched your wrists, hurting the passing blood that was blocking your veins at the sight, already grimly visualizing her end.

Your eyes started to water, “Where is he?” your chest was rising and lowering in uncontrollable rhythmic fast paces. Your eyes moved fast trying to reach the boy you could trust most in this secluded place. Your jaw trembled a chill, it seemed from the very moment you entered the tube, every shiver that run made incomprehensible shapes on your back like it was foretelling you about something, and it felt exactly like a warning by the way your hairs straightened in electric agony. It didin’t matter how much your body screamed at you to turn around, to not enter the place that was surely going to end up being the graveyard of all the participants. The alert were justified. You were going to die soon, and that what scared you into the shaking fear that echoed in your bones, cliterring against each other.

“Nine” you found him. Vito was looking back at you, the irises of his eyes like the sea before a storm, calm and peaceful, and slowly getting more disturbed by the cruel ripples drawing hungry circles on the water. They were dark, like the clouds that started to cover the sky of the ocean, and soon the electrical particles would float around in the air, welcoming the thunders and lightnings that had been anticipating to come out, to free their violence through the sea.

He gestured his head behind him, away from the Cornucopia that stayed in the centre of the circled Tributes. He was calm and collected, he was ready to face this, something your weren’t. He wanted you to run away and hide somewhere, just like he said the day before, “I’ll come back to get you”.

You followed his lead, and found yourself overlooking the structure of this place, of the Arena that the Gamemakers had expressly done for the twenty four of you.

Walls, that’s all you could see, worn out walls with wild vegetation escaping the stony cracks of it, that hinted this place had been abandoned for many years. They were as tall as twenty versions of you lined up vertically, and you supposed it was to make any possibility for a Tribute’s escape to be as the thin line of impossibility.

Your fingers curled weirdly at your side, from the tension of your joints. You huffed another air out, your eyes zigzaged around you, scanning the place whole under your heavy gaze. There were a total of six gaps on the walls that surrounded you, so much so it looked like tall hallways, it’s seductive sight whispering to you to cross over them and find out about what forbidden fruit laid at the end of the passageway. It was calling for you.

“Five” ten seconds had already passed. And with that thought, the beat of your heart was drilling in your ears. So much noise, yet everything remained quiet. The wind brushed the cold stones and caressed past your boots. With that you felt the faint finger touches of the breeze, cold and disheartening as it cried out nature’s remorse from having been involuntarily used as massacre artilletry for yet another year.

“Three” your heart beat drums were confusing your already hazy mind, feeling it heavier than what you were used to, and you detested it. You opened your eyes, leaving you with half lidded eyeballs, that were already suffering from blurred nausea. You needed to get out of your hopeless trance, that was whispering and placing bets on another, just how you would die. It was difficult ignoring those voices that screamed louder than messageman through the loud speaker, you needed to cool down your head before the countdown set to zero.

You wished you could've done that. But among the scraping noises from your inner depths, the low murmuring sound of “One” signaled you of something crucial had just started. The monotone voice annuciated the beginning of the Hunger Games. With that, a tear rolled down your stuffed face, its high speed symbolizing the heavy burden that carried the weight of its yearly resolution. The cries and screams of false whisfullness, one that not only happened inside the Arena, but it carried away with the very same distressing message to infect Panem with heartbreak.

And just like that. Bang! Everything started, the televised deaths from countless victims. Most of you were vulnerable sheep, waiting another day to pass and hope the big hungry wolves wouldn't choose you for their next meal, all stuck inside a unfair corral that gave them the advantage, and that meant you wouldn't be able to escape unharmed.

You stepped back, one foot out the pedestal. And before you could run away, another hit of nausea smashed you senses.

Everything was going too fast.

Next thing you saw was Ezra with a machete in hand, on top of a girl from District 12, blood covering whatever was left from her face. A splatter of crimson red across his dilated face, a sly small smile tensing his right corner into a sadistic smirk.

Nyla just got herself a long weapon, something similar of a spear, and was already looking at every individual that laid at her sight, including your petrified form suffering from the fogginess that numbed your brain into submission.

You shouted yourself to run, but you legs could only do that in forms of tiny steps back. You remembered the words that Finnick had told you at dinner, “it’s a bloodbath”. Sufficient to cover everydrop up to the fullest limit. All before the next victim, a fourteen year old boy from District 9’s head, almost split into two when Ava smashed an axe on him. It was like the faucet had been stuck and turned on, the bloody water overspilling to the white tiled floors, and staining everything. An innocent red that by the context behind was suddenly turned into an unforgiving shade of anguish.

You witnessed him tripping over a rooted plant, stubborn on staying strongly still, and cruelly be the deciding factor of his deadly prophecy. He tried to get up, and Ava’s much taller body caged him to the ground. With one swing move she stuck the sharp of the axe between his head, so hard when she tried to pull it out she struggled to do so, with traces of raw meat and the inner designs of his brain flying out, and making themselves present in the swirling thoughts around your memory for your further misery. It naturally splattered across her face from the sheer brutality and gruesomeness of the sin she had just committed. But its not like she cared anyway.

And with that blow, that boy was gone. His vitality thick liquid rowing down his head, and making itself noticed with lines drawing a disturbing picture in his face. The red of the blood had lost its colour, and you destested just how it had become a duller shade of crimson, like it was already in its process to rot away, starting off with the blood under the sunlight.

Ava didn’t need to keep going, but she did. She was an unstoppable force that was ready to take down anyone that she considered inferior to her that walked passed her vision, like a vicious lion with blood running down her chin.

That was it, he was gone from this planet, and away from his homeland, away from his comfort place to battle without choice even when he didn’t want to. He was to never come back to his family’s reassuring embrace. He was gone. Forever gone and to never come back again.

Another two steps back. His lifeless head turned unhumanly to you, his eyes were red as if he had cried many hours before coming to his deathbed. The drops of blood drawing lines from the ears down his cheek and nose. His eyes abnormally placed on yours, void of any terror and pain, just nothing. No happiness not sadness, no anger and not an ounce of fright. Nothing was there, just an empty shell, void of any shining pearl. Just nothing. He was gone.

His limp body was turned to you when you finally woke up from your trance, hyperventilating from the confusing and rapid forms and shapes that curled up and fused with each other, to be mixed and shaken up into colourful fragments that screamed threatening lines into your ears. Nothing made sense.

You trembled your jaw, and another tear followed down to your dry mouth. You opened your mouth, almost instinctively to scream away the distress you had built up over the days. Edna always told you there was no use in keeping yourself troubled by your emotions, and if you needed to release them, to scream away so much you could feel your soul screaming along with your body, let it vibrate in waves through your skin to alleviate it as well. Except this was not the timing to be doing that.

Your hand smacked to your mouth, blocking any sound that would give away your terrified presence. Another swarm of tears threatened to run down your face, this time in pouring rain. You gulped down, and with that you managed to drown back your scream.

Then you came across the picture of another girl. A beautiful redhead. Unreal with lightbrown eyes and pointy features. A beautiful red goddess, ruler of all the invading flames, tamer all any fire dragon she quickly claimed. She was like a blooming poppy when you had seen her in training, even more so in the breathtaking dress she had worn in the interview. A slender and shy girl, that what she portrayed herself as, as an innocent and vulnerable flower.

So why was she looking at you like that?

She was coming closer, a weird deranged expression across her lit charcoal features. She looked beautiful then, because now her animalistic eyes had turned yellow and her irises red in the purest form of insaned rage.

She was coming to you, a long knife in her hand pointed downwards, giving you the full view and the future glimpse of your deadly fate that was going to occur in the next minute or two, giving you an advantage of two seconds to understand the situation you were in. Your survival incticts quicked in, and you were glad your breathing corpse was as terrified as your mind at the oidea of the shapr item in you, in her hand to tear away the protective layers and pierce through your loved organs, circling around into a muchy smelly mess, or on the other hand, the greatest meal for those big and hungry vultures had encountered.

She twitched, and that was enough indication for you to run away, to hopefully be able to see the next twelve hours play out, still alive and well, no matter how lucky or ambitious that may be.

She screamed, more like she roared in pleasured challenge. Everything she ppotrayed herself as; from her shyness, her kindred soul, her peaceful nature, she had none of those adoring qualities anymore. On the contrary, she embraced a new side of her that eat away all the remaining good left of her. It was like she forgot the sympathetic teachings that grown ups had instilled in her. She wasn’t human anymore.

You were running for your life. Being someone with great knowledge about corpses taught just how fragile it was to begin with, more prominent injured become somewhat life altering. From broken tendons that hurt after long working hours, to crystal fragments stuck ti your knee could also be form geometrical pain from the scarring after being sat for a few hours.

And you were sure as Hell you didn’t want to find out, even in the small chance you lived long enough to find out.

You looked behind, wanting to see just how far she was. And to your regret the wild girl was just tailing behind you, a hand pushin forward against the air resistance to grab your forearm. You ducked away and turned to your right abruptly, hoping that would be enough for her to lose sight of you. A destructive shriek was all you heard, you were only frustrating her further, and a loud battling yell came out as a ball of fire that burned away her delicate features

You recognized her to be Linette from Dsitrict 8. You were surprised to say the least, you always had thought of that District to be more tame and peaceful, being in civilised cities and not knowing much about the outside world. They were in many instances at a great disadvantage because of this very fact. They dealed with the beloved Capitol’s textiles, and you cursed at yourself from letting that stereotypical thought question her eagerness and ability to come crashing down on you to kill you.

This girl had gone completely rouge, like another one of the traps that the Gammakers had created to kill you all. She didn’t feel human anymore, but rather another one of the puppets for the Hunger Games its exclusive usage to create as much chaos as it could through the Arena, and you wouldn't wait to find out the lengths she was willing to go as her first victim.

There was yet another sound, and even though your were hyperventilating, it oddly sounded like something good had happened, like you weren’t being chased anymore. You noticed your only pair of legs running, and that stalking demon presence gone you stopped. The air came in an out in ragged and heavy breathes, your stomach churned in pain, and you wanted to puke then. You gulped down that disgusting taste away in hoipes it wound’t later come up.

You looked back and scanned where the threat laid ahead of you, only to find yourhopes to become reality, even if they had made you guilty to have think that way about someone. Tears were swelling your eyes red, the pure of the salt irritating and hurting your scelera like your first attempt at diving underwater and trying to enoucter all sorts of beautiful sea creatures, but instead now, it was due to having a racing mtch with a monster that seeked blood and death.

A sob escaped your lips. Your eyes looked back at the returned concentrated stare of the black eyes you longed to see. His irises that were just below a a black tone, and more so a o dark greyish shade looked over your body in making sure you were in one piece, away from danger and hurt.

You were finally near the person you whole heartedly yearned among the chaotic violence. It dawned on you of the smart move you had done on the tran ride to the Capitol, he could protect you. He’d protect you, so you could later look after him.It ist wasn’t for that, you would most likely be dead in this very instant.

You slumped your shoulders down. And you cried, you cried out so much you felt everything else disappear. You breathed in sharp breaths earning the infamous hissing sounds coming from your throat. You moaned as well, because you were scared of everything at this point, and Vito was your only salvation at this moment.

You just wanted to be back in District 4 and be in Edna’s arms. To squeeze yourself in her body no matter how she retorted back many comments, coming at you in defense for her own personal space, that you were stubbornly invading, not caring that she didn’t want you so close to her.

But you coudn’t that, noy one or the other. This started to feel like a personal vendetta against you.

You should’ve have noticed it then, the way his irises clouded reason. He was away, far away from what was surrounding him; the corpse of the girl he was holding, the screams of pained anguish not so far away from the two of you, the cold stale air brushing his skin. He was simply out and switched off. That should have been a warning, because even though you hadn’t spent that much time together, Vito wasn’t the Vito you had grown accustomed to.

His expression was blank, a single drop of blood coming down his cheek, and yet he didn’t seem to care at all. His hand was queezing the girl’s arm, so much the beginning of the purple of a choking bruise was appearing in her forearm. The red head, though, didn’t try to wriggle her way out of him, instead her fingers wrapped themselves on her throat. Vito had given her life threatening injures, and you knew she was breaths away from death. Linnette gurgled as she looked you, the striking eyes of shock directed at you. She, as well as you and Vito knew she was going to die, and that only turned her bloody mess in a tortural refusal she was going to die so soon after the horn rang.

It seemed she wanted to say something, and you and Vito let the silence preserve for her, but she coudn’t say anything. Her last breath was taken away from her, and now she could only fall to the ground in that. She sat on a fetal position, blood scurring off her fingers that still lay squeezing her throat, trying to somehow stop the bleeding of her punctured vocal chords.

Every word she wanted to say would never be heard, being choked down by the meaty blood. She remained there, her body trembling and you hoped her light twitches weren’t from body spasms in trying to wake her from her slumber.

Another choke. Her veiny red eyes founds yours. Linnette opened her mouth to say the words she so desperately wanted to say. Her teeth were covered in brown red, and as she choke again she spit the red liquid that was accumulating in her mouth, overspilling in to the earthy ground. And along with her cut throat, the large quantity of lost blood made a river down the path you had just taken, going back to the Cornucopia to announce her death to the rest of the Careers.

The iron taste in her mouth was overpowering her senses, and soon, that was all she could think off. Her veins were cold as if someone or something had sucked her dry, and she for the first time appreciated the warmth that blood had provided her in the freezing winter season.

She breathed for air. Tiny gasps but still despairing nonetheless. Of course, the red haird had grown tired, and she lamented that all the air she sucked was to be escaped by the gap that Vito had done to her. There was no use in fighting anymore, she had lost. Tears formed in her eyes only to never be shown to the world. They simply got stuck in her lashes as she felt herself dream to another realm.

But you managed to understand one word she said in all the gurgling and choking mess. Her pink lips were pigmented with that of crimson, and as she spat another line of sticky and thick blood, she revealed the thought she had before she had gone completely limp. “Theo” she said in her final hiss.

Sprawled over the grassy ground and accommodated by a bed of her own blood. Her eyes were wide awake looking away from the two of you, wanting her final moments to be from her own introspective, thinking back to her homeland and family. And as the cold she had never felt filled her to her senses, she wanted her last thought to be of Theodore, her boyfriend from back home.

She had hoped you could relay her final words to him, which only filled her death with so much more unforgiving tragedy. Linette hated herself for not being able to say how much she loved him, she wanted to let him know she would never forget him. Even when they would be separated, she would remember him under the sunlight, while she could only fantasize about him from the moon afar.

Her trembling fingers were the last body partsc for her to completely cease from reality, and she hoped you and Vito could hear her unheard unspoken words. “I’m sorry” and she regretted that plead for forgiveness was turned into her final gurgle.

Linnette was sorry for her survival outrage. She wished for you to understand her reasoning behind why she did it to begin with. It was like a theatrical loving tragedy, making the main character of the novel kill in order to be back for the confort of her partner.

But something you didn’t know was that this story was just like that, a love story filled with the elements of melancholy and despair, all in the name to be close to your partners loving heart.

Before she left for the Capitol and into the death game, Theodore had come to her to lament with her. Theo proposed an idea, something that was on the back of him mind for a while, and he needed to expulse that though to her. He pleaded her to come back to him, that he was nothing but a heavy rock without her. He said “Come back, and let’s get married” that’s all he said, and that was sufficient for Linette to risk everything for him, and for a future life withing the warm embrace of each other.

She apologized to you, but if you looked close enough in the rampage of her mind, behind her heavy circumstances laid the final words for not being able to keep her promise to a loved one. She was sorry becasyue she coudn’t do the task that was placed on her, to come back alive in the security of his sweet kiss. She already missed him, and Theodore could only take on the idea of dying to be near his Darling. He was more than convinced to got through Death’s realm to find her, and come back with her and fullfill their lives together away from anyone, just the two of them.

Vito looked at you, somber caressed his expression by having to see her death, but it was especially haunting the knowledge he was the perpertrator of her murder. His finger dropped the stained weapon, that was swam droplets into the dry leaves of the trees towering you two.

His ragged breathings hinted you he was close behind when the chase occurred, a hunter hunting down a carnivore animal that was close behind your form, as it decided your were the her next meal. You hated thinking that, but you had to accept it. In this secluded place where no one would come to help you, you were at the very bottom of the food chain.

The dilation of his pupils spiraling around at the sudden adrenaline charge that sparked every sense in one singular thought, you. He was worried, and that fear was another loud and harder step to protect you, and with that primal surge of energy he completely ignored the voices of his principles and came running behind until he reached to get Linette.

And he had reached you on time.

You looked back at him, calling out his name in a weak and broken down tone, as a fragile as a ceramic vase being hit to the harsh cold floor. His face said something you coudn’t read, he was completely paralyzed and stoic. His eyes were faded into the high of the clouds. The storm you saw before, merely minutes ago was completely gone now, only left with the smoky clouds after the rain, calm but with a clear hint that a devastating disaster had just occurred.

“Vito?” Another cry left your lips. He looked as dead as the girl by his feet. Cold, unmoving, and hollow behind his eyes. But he was fine, he had to be. Vito was standing in front of you, you were seeing his breaths quickening through the movement of his chest. He was alive and well, only he felt dead inside as all the dead corpses lying around the Cornucopia when he had left it behind.

His irises were nothing you had seen before, none of his lively playfulness, nor the broken pieces of crystals that were crying out in pain. He was away from reality, and definitely far away from the life he learned with his family, a journey with not return ticket from his usual life.

It like his soul had left him.

His hands trembled by his side, the blade just beside his feet not only was stained with Linnette’s blood, but also his concious guilt of self disgust. The very faded eyes were stationed on yours, irises still and yet his pupil shaking like a chemical reaction was happening behind his brain. He was so eerily still it out you on edge, and a clear whisper told your to run away from him, readying your legs for another round of running.

But, why were you scared of Vito?

And yet in that emotional turmoil you wanted to answer, his gaze was still directed at you, with nothing. Your Tribute Partner was looking at a picture of his own guilt, one were an invisible pencil drew him with Linnette’s dead body beside him. But it didn’t stop there, no, the pencil was growing bold and recreated the many more murdered corpses it was predicting Vito would commit.

The blurred drawing of red lines, like that of a a spiderweb of blood decorated in the insides of his brain, showing his admission of a guilty killer. There was no coming back now, he stepped away from the stable line of human morality, and into the the abyss of murderous insanity. He was a murderer, and no matter your denying words he knew you would say to reassure him, it could not erase that simple, yet cutting fact.

“Vito?” you called out to him again, a tint of shakiness painted the wall of your throat, making the cried tone of yours break his heart even more. You huffed air expectantly, he was finally looking at you, the real you and not what his imagination tried to trick him with. He turned his fingers into a fist, obligating himself to feel the prickling pain from the stabbing fingernail on his palm, in a way he was trying to indulge himself in some sort of self punishment, especially after seeing your terrified form and dilated pupils.

And as cruel as it maybe, Vito didn’t mind the signing tunes of gratitude your heart whole heartedly sang to him. Deep in his soul, he knew you weren’t happy to have Linnette killed, but rather for saving you on your assured death scene. His eyes softened after seeing yours, scanning your colourful tones from your broken eyes, at least at ease him you were still alive, even against all odds you were still here. And that’s all he needed to know to feel like he could lift the deadly weight off of him.

Vito called your name. His eyes were still void, and the charcoal irises only made him look like empty black holes, powerful enough to suck you in and grab a hold on you, not matter how much your tried to scurry away from him.

“Run” he said. The new facade of Vito was showing up on the Arena. You half expected it was going to occur sooner or later, but you didn’t want to believe that would come in the form of that stoic expression he was doing. But the words he spoke, those were the hard hitting truth of the fantasy you tried to convince yourself was just that, and unreal expectation that only lived in your optimistic fantasy. The voice that you had gotten used to, was stranger to your ears. It was the sound of a thin thread of frost, creating little drawing of asphyxiating ice by your ear drums.

He didn’t repeat himself, looking down at you with nothing but that disturbed face of his. Following your every move as you cried some more, pleading him to stay with you. But it didn’t work, he was still and convinced of the meaning behind those cold words. And after some low sobs you gathered yourself to leave your friend behind, your only friend, the one you would give your life up in order for him to come back to his family.

His voice was echoing the singular words he said, leaving traces of tears down your cheeks and dampening your whole gear from the neck down. You wanted to scream at him, for ignoring your contractual agreement the two of you promised each other to carry, yet you still obeyed him. Even when his very actions were exactly like sending you to your horrible death.

Previous // Next

TagList -> @mushy-mushroom04 @marvelescvpe @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @thegr8estpuff

#finnick odair x reader #finnick x you #finnick #finnick odair #finnick odair x you #finnick x reader #the hunger games #thg finnick #thg x reader #thg

59 notes · View notes