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exhaslo · 7 months

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Kinktober Day 7- Miguel x Clumsy!Reader (Toys)

It was a gag gift from a close friend of yours. Never had you thought you would actually use it. Staring at the clit and vibrator in one before you made you sweat. Today had been a really rough day and you meant rough. You had your ass handed to you during a mission earlier only to come back to your world to deal with Rhino being a complete ass to your favorite museum. That and Miguel gave you a lecture about being reckless, again. Needless to say, you needed a stress reliever. Something to get you off.

Exhaling loudly, you slid your pajama pants and panties off. You were hesitant. You had never done something like this. You rather it be Miguel stuffing you with his cock, not a toy. Huffing your cheeks at the thought, you knew that would never happen. Miguel probably saw you as a nuisance. A Spiderwoman who always caused trouble. You couldn't help it though. You were still fairly new at being a superhero. Miguel was just a handsome jerk.

"A sexy jerk," You grumbled.

Finally finding the courage, you shivered as the cold vibrator entered your tight walls. You repeated to yourself that it was Miguel, which helped it slid in. Next, you attached the second part to your clit. It felt a little uncomfortable at first, but you got used to it. Right when you reached for the remote, your watch went off.

"(Y/n)! We have an urgent anomaly, I need your help. Here are the coordinates." Miguel told you.

You squeaked and told him you'd be on your way. Hurrying up, you put on your suit and grabbed the remote, thinking it was your phone. Opening a dimensional portal, you hopped inside, forgetting about the toy you were wearing.

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"Alright, you're all dismissed. Good work," Miguel praised.

You must be dreaming. Never had he told you that you did good. Waving goodbye to the other Peter's, you decided to grab a quick bite in the cafeteria before heading home. You went to reach for your phone, only to realize that nothing was in your pocket,

"Huh? Oh no...Did I drop it in Miguel's office?!" You whined.

Right as you went to turn around, you felt a strong buzz from below. Your body flinched forward at the sudden pleasure. Heat was forming fast in your suit. You let out a small gasp, remembering about the vibrator. It wasn't your phone you brought, but the remote! Leaning against the nearby wall, you whimpered wondering who found the remote. You needed to hurry to get it back, or find the bathroom to take the toys out before it was too late.

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It was when Miguel had dismissed everyone when he noticed something on the floor. He jumped down from his platform, making his way towards the item. To his surprise, it was a remote. He wasn't sure what kind it was, leading him back to his desk. He summoned Lyla, asking her to scan the item.

"It's a vibrator remote." Lyla said with a grin. Miguel immediately tensed up,

"Who-No, I don't even want to know." He spat lowly. Lyla appeared in front of him,

"You totally know who it belongs too."

"No. It could be one of the Pet-"

"There she is on the camera, you know you want to test it out~" Lyla cooed.

Miguel grumbled lowly as he ignored his AI. His eyes were focused on the cameras before him, watching you skip your way to the cafeteria. He knew better. He knew he shouldn't, but you were just so clumsy. Ever since you first fell into his office, he had a soft spot for you. That soft spot started to grow into a desire. You were reckless. Sometimes he just wanted to fuck you until you learned your lesson. Until you finally listened to him and stayed put.

Staring at the remote, he wondered if this was it. If this was his chance to teach you a lesson. It was wrong, but he wanted to see your face contort in pleasure. To hear you moan his name, begging you to let him fuck you. A low rumble escaped his throat as he started to get hard at the thought. He might regret this, but he just wanted to see your reaction. You were the one who did something so foolish, what were the chances that you were actually wearing the damn toy?

"Dios mío, lo es. (My god, she is.)"

Miguel groaned lowly as he pressed on the remote. He watched as your body flinched forward before finding something to lean against. It was a damn good thing it was late at night. Most, if not, all the Spiders were in their own world. Miguel's fangs started to show as he bit his lower lip, stroking himself. He watched as you made your way to probably a bathroom. You were so clumsy. Miguel imagined that it was his dick inside you and not this toy. His dick harden at the thought. He wanted to watch you cum.

Miguel looked away from the screens for only a moment to engulf himself in pleasure. Right when he did so,

"U-Um...M-Miguel? I think I uh, dropped something in here." Your voice trembled. Miguel flinched as he heard you, accidently raising the setting on your vibrator, "Ah~"

"Joder, esto tiene que ser una señal. (Fuck, this has to be a sign.)" He groaned, lowering the setting for you, "I did find something, do you realize how reckless this is?" His breathing was heavy, wanting to return to his high.

"I-I know, I'm sorry! I completely forgot-"

"That you were fucking yourself with this?" Miguel hissed lowly, unable to face you since his cock was still sprung out and hard, "That you brought it with you on a mission and dropped it in my office?!"

"I was about to use it! I never done this before! I thought I grabbed my p-phone." You whimpered as Miguel played with the setting again, "M-Miguel, w-wait-"

"You tested my patience long enough, cariño. (sweetheart) I'm going to teach you a lesson,"

You let out another whimper as you tried to get closer. You went to web the remote, but Miguel caught your webbing inside. He pulled you towards him, looking down at your trembling form. He could smell your arousals. The wet slick in your suit was strong. He glanced down at your flustered face, observing the lust in your eyes. There was practically drool coming down your mouth. He turned to face you, watching as you stared at his dick,

"Suck it." He demanded.

To his surprise, you did not hesitate. It was as if you were waiting for his. Miguel groaned lowly as he buckled his hips, letting you sloppily suck him. His thumb against the remote, slowly raising the setting each time he felt you slow down.

"Finalmente ser una buena chica. Escuchándome por una vez. (Finally being a good fucking girl. Listening to me for once.)" Miguel gripped the edge of his desk, feeling the urge to cum, "I'm about to cum, cariño. Tell me where you want it?"

"Mh-"

"Fuck, tell me without my dick in that little mouth of yours,"

"I-In here," You whined, leaning back as you pressed the vibrator deeper inside you.

You were a mess at this point. As you were sucking Miguel's dick, you had reached your orgasm not once, but twice. You knew that Miguel felt you too, because he raised the setting on your vibrator each time you did. All you wanted right now was his dick inside you. To ravish you pussy better than this damn toy did. Another loud moan was forced out of you as Miguel raised a setting once more. You could barely take it.

The vibrator inside you and on your clit felt like they were on fire. Your suit was drenched with your juices that it almost hurt to be wearing it. You were desperate for something bigger to enter you. Having Miguel's cock in your mouth made your mind wander as if it were inside your pussy instead. Trying to fix yourself, you laid on your back, spreading your legs for Miguel. Moans kept coming out of your throat as he just watched you struggle while stroking himself.

"Mírate, rogando por mi polla. Si tan solo hubieras hecho algo tan estúpido antes. (Look at you, begging for my dick. If only you did something this stupid earlier.)" He used his talon to rip your suit from your breasts to your pussy, "Vas a chupar ese juguete. ¿Por qué no le doy a tu coño algo mejor para chupar? (You're going to suck that toy in. Why don't I give your pussy something better to suck on.)"

You were so fucked out to even know what Miguel was saying. Your body arched as the cold air hit your drenched cunt. Miguel bend down to your level, deciding to lick your body. You cried out as he poked the small vibrator on your clit. It hurt. You needed him. You needed his dick. Spreading your legs out more, you whimpered his name.

"M-Migueeeeel, pleaaaase,"

"Have you learned your lesson?" He asked, toying with the remote. You raised your hips, feeling the vibrator burn hotter,

"Y-Yes!"

"What did you learn?" Miguel panted softly, feeling his high getting closer by the second. Your vision started to blur as you felt your orgasm approaching again,

"I-I will...ah~ will listen...to...to y-you~"

Miguel muttered a good before turning the vibrator up to the highest setting. He had his cock between your thighs, rubbing himself against your dripping cunt. The vibrator giving him an extra push as well. The two of you moaned together as you both reached your mind blowing orgasm. Right as you did, the vibrator stopped working. Miguel chuckled lowly as he pulled it out of you, watching your juices spill all over his floor,

"Looks like I'll have to buy you another one," He panted, watching his cum rest on top of you, "Now, I think you've learned your lesson."

You tried to catch your breathe, but gasped as you felt Miguel easily enter your abused hole. Your eyes nearly rolled back as he stretched you out and hit you deeper than the vibrator. You could barely hear what Miguel was saying since you were so blissed out. His hips pulled out before giving you a fatal blow. His cock hit your cervix, causing a ringing in your brain. Your throat started to hurt as you cried from overstimulation.

"Así es, sigue chupandome la polla. Esto era lo que querías ¿verdad? Joder, mírate, un bonito lío para mi polla. (That's right, keep sucking my cock. This was what you wanted right? Fuck, look at you, a pretty little mess for my dick.)" Miguel slapped his hips into yours, soaking in your moans as you gushed around his cock, "La próxima vez que cometas un error, te haré suplicar por mi polla otra vez. Entonces te follaré como un estúpido hasta que aprendas a comportarte. (Next time you make a mistake, I'll make you beg for my dick again. Then I'll fuck you stupid until you learn how to behave.)"

You arched your body towards his, clenching against him once more. Your vision blurred as your cam hard. Miguel groaned lowly, enjoying your lewd face. The cute little 'o' you made with your mouth as you cam for him. His cock covered in your white ring while he filled you up. Catching his breathe, Miguel stared down at you. You were so beautiful under him. Pulling out, Miguel fixed himself before picking you up.

"I'm going to make you a new suit, and get you a new toy." He told you, knowing full well that you weren't listening, "I hope you chose to not listen next time. I enjoyed this lesson."

Now that, was something you didn't need to listen to. You were defiantly going to mess up again, and Miguel was going to have to teach you to listen again.

#miguel o'hara #kinktober #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction

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chosaya · 7 months

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BITTERSWEET VENGEANCE !

synopsis : Nothing is better than getting revenge on your cheating husband!

warning: angst. smut, overstimulation, pussy eating, creampie +aftercare, cursing, cheater! nanami, revenge, best friends to lovers trope.

Wc: 2.8k

Marriage is something that binds people closer together but not in this case.

They had gone through thick and thin together, supporting each other in times of need and always standing by each other's sides. No matter what life decided to throw at them, they faced it together as one.

Nanami and you have been married for a couple of years now. Things have been distant between the two of them every time he comes home now. Before, he used to kiss your forehead every time he came from work, and would always tell you how his day was going. Now, all he does is brush you off as if you are bothering him and ignore you.

You have tried to ask him what is wrong in the past , but he never gives you a straight answer. You can't help but feel like something is wrong and the distance between the two of you keeps growing. You don't know what to do anymore, but you know that if you don't figure out what the problem is soon, you are afraid that your marriage is in danger.

There had been a small part of you that hoped today would be different from the hectic week you had. As soon as you saw the calendar that marked your anniversary, you smiled to yourself. You knew very well that this was going to be one of the most special days for you two.

You felt a wave of disappointment as the time passed and he hadn't shown up yet…

You tried to remind yourself that it wasn't always going to be easy and that sometimes people have things that come up but you couldn't help but feel a little hurt by his negligence. You sighed as you looked at the clock again, waiting for him to show up.

There was a spread displayed on the dining table, together with a bouquet of rose petals, candles, platters of his favorite foods, along with a bunch of rose petals as well, as well as a bunch of rose petals as well. The clock began ticking as the time passed and still no sign of him could be seen. It was getting later and later as time passed, but there was still no response back or call.

He couldn’t forget the most important day of your lives could he?

In the beginning, your husband started coming home late and became unresponsive to your phone calls and text messages. You were concerned, yet hopeful that he was simply caught up in something at work.

While sitting in your living room one evening, you heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway as suddenly as you heard it come up the driveway.

It was a surprise for you when you found out that your husband was going to arrive home later than he normally would, even though this is not something that he would have done. As you got up from your seat, you stepped up with a sense of frustration that was tinged with worry.

Whenever your husband Nanami entered the house, his warm smile would always light up your face, and he would kiss your forehead before telling you about his day over dinner, which he always gave upon entering. But this time, something had changed.

Today, he did not appear to put a smile on his face, and he seemed as if he was in a somber state of mind.

You couldn't help but feel a sense of unease, wondering what could have happened to cause this sudden change in his demeanor. Was it work-related stress? Or perhaps something more personal? As you tried to make sense of the situation, your mind was flooded with questions.

The once comfortable and familiar atmosphere of your home now felt tinged with uncertainty.

Thinking it was just because he had a bad day at work, you'd shrug it off, assuming that your husband needed some time alone.

You were so wrong..

You approached Nanami later that day cautiously, unsure of how to address the situation. "Is everything alright kento?" you asked, your voice filled with genuine concern. But he merely nodded, avoiding eye contact, and headed straight to the bedroom without uttering a word. Confusion and worry engulfed you as you stood there, left with more questions than answers.

No advil.

There was a lot of pressure on you to give him space, as you were hoping that the time alone would help him overcome whatever it was that was bothering him. Yet, deep down, you knew that there was something more than meets the eye when it came to his behavior.

It was as if there were some deeper meaning behind it. Several signs indicated that something was wrong when he was coming home late at night, his calls being unanswered, and the absence of his warm smile at those times as he tells you about this day.

Having finally convinced him that you are serious about trying to resolve the issue, you tried to speak to him in a full and candid way about it, trying to voice out your thoughts.

“Nanami, why have you been ignoring me and answering my calls lately?. Did I do something wrong..” You asked him sitting across from the couch, crossing your arms over your shoulder awaiting his response.

“I’m sorry baby, work has been stressing me out lately. I became exhausted afterwards.” He replied back, a sigh escaping his lips before setting down the mug on the coffee table to face your direction.

“enough to forget our anniversary? without a fucking text or anything..” you spat out angrily as your eyebrows furrowed together in frustration, crossing your legs over one another.

“Of course not, I brought you home a bouquet of flowers and one more thing..” you huffed out for a moment before nanami handed you the freshly picked flowers and a beautiful diamond necklace with your name carved into it, all your thoughts were washed away as he did this.

“Aw baby this is beautiful but—.” you continued to speak but interrupted by nanami before you could.

“I know you're still mad about me being late, so how about lunch at your favorite restaurant tomorrow?” you couldn’t help but smile at his works, holding the flower in your arms tightly.

“Fine but don’t break this promise kento, I’m serious.” You said, pressing a soft kiss on his lips before pulling away from him as you both looked into each other's arms with a loving gaze.

“I promise.”

The morning of the next following day, you were getting ready to go out with Nanami on the date that he had promised you before. You were wearing his favorite color black dress as well as some gold jewelry to complement it.

You headed down to the kitchen as you seen Nanami finishing up some last minute paperwork in his office, told you he would be ready in a few minutes before heading upstairs to get his tie, and as he left his phone unlocked, an unknown sender appeared on the home screen and said

"Hey baby, I can't wait to see you tonight"! It was like your heart dropped to your stomach when you saw the message from another woman on his phone, and you couldn't help but freeze at the sight, swallowing harshly as you pushed it away for a moment.

This left your stomach churning with disgust and you could not comprehend how he could have betrayed you in such a way, especially considering that you were married to him for years.

“Hey baby, I'm ready.” Nanami shouted as he made his way up the steps to the office where he had left you before. Nanami's smile vanished as he saw the sight before him coming up behind you and wrapped his arms around you, nuzzling into your neck as he whispered to you.

"I am sorry." in your ear softly but you slowly pushed him away as you allowed the tears to fall from your eyes and balled up his fists as It was as if your heart had just shattered into pieces.

“No you're not, kento. You're only sorry I found out about your little “girlfriend” you shouted at him, wiping the tears off your faces as you felt your lungs on fire from crying so much.

“Baby.. I can explain—.”

“No, I'm done with you..” Before he was able to say another word you slammed the door behind you and hurried out of the house before getting into your car and driving away, still hurt and betrayed by the man who had taken advantage of your marriage all these years.

The last few weeks have been rough for you after you left your marriage still carrying the hurt and betrayal inside of you, your lips parted with a sigh as you sipped your tea in the restaurant kento promised he would take you to, but never did.

A ding of a bell was heard back in the coffee shop and your thoughts were interrupted by it. You couldn't help but glance towards that direction when you spotted your long-term friend whom you've known since you were children.

choso kamo

In the shop, Choso sat right next to you on the bar stool while you two talked for a while recalling the good times. On top of that, you finally broke the silence telling him about the marriage of your now ex husband and how he cheated on you.

In response to your words, he let out a deep sigh and held you close to his chest, still pissed off at Nanami and determined to show you that he was there for you and that he could do better than anything he had ever done before.

He massaged small circles into your back as you snuggled closer to him, rubbing small circles into his chest as you leaned closer to him telling you he was going to be there for you now.

“Don’t worry I’m going to take care of you, like a real man should.” he murmured out before walking you out the coffee shop to his place for the night.

Meanwhile,Nanami still desperately tried to reach out through calls but no answer as you'd eventually blocked his number. You were slowly becoming happy again but this time with someone better.

When Nanami stepped into his car, as he was heading to work, he felt as though he was dying on the inside as he sighed as he felt like he had gone through the process.

His ash blond hair was a mess all over his head, and the bags under his eyes were due to a lack of sleep he had been getting. While driving, he started dozing off in an attempt to keep himself awake as the other vehicles were blowing at him to concentrate on the road in front of him. He ended up swerving and getting hit by a semi truck, causing his car to roll.

The paramedics quickly checked the vital signs of Nanami and confirmed that he was still alive for now.

They then proceeded to carefully extract him from the car, ensuring that his injuries were not made worse by the process.

Once he was out, they quickly loaded him onto a stretcher and loaded him into the ambulance. The ambulance drove off at full speed, rushing Nanami to the hospital for emergency treatment.

The paramedics rushed Nanami to the hospital and he was quickly moved to a room. The doctors immediately hooked him up to a breathing tube to keep his breathing steady.

After a thorough examination, they diagnosed him with a severe concussion and he soon went into a coma. The doctors weren't sure when he would wake up, but they knew the damage to his brain was permanent.

You had been hoping against hope that Nanami would be okay, but it seemed that fate had other plans.

You reap what you sow.

A deep sigh escaped your lips as you tried to wrap your head around the news, you let go of Choso, feeling a sense of despair wash over you knew that you had to be strong for both of you now, but it was hard to ignore it.

Choso’s patience and understanding were a much needed tender love after everything that happened this past week, He’d let you stay with him as long as you needed to.

His presence was a reminder that you are never alone and that he was always there to support you. You two had been friends for a while, but something special started to grow between you two.

After a month of spending time together, you both could feel the connection and decided to make it official. He would take you out on lunch dates, shower you with love and affection, and make you feel like the most cherished person in the world.

Choso always took his time with you..

His soft lips placed wet kisses against your neck sending shivers down your spine as his hands roamed under your shirt—toying with your breast before gently latching his lips on your sensitive nipple, using his free head to squeeze your other breast in between his fingers.

“So pretty baby.” he cooed against you ghosting over your chest before detaching himself from your nipple with a pop, His lips curved into a smirk as he reaches his hand down to tug your panties down your ankles, you felt his hot breath ghost against your wet folds

—lightly licking and sucking on it. He smirks against you maintaining eye contact, rubbing your clit with the pad of his thumb in a circular motion making you arch your back, your hand reaching down to grip the strands of his hair.

“—Fuck, ..choso feels so good..” a shaky whine escaped your lips,nails digging into the couch cushions. Your hips bucked against his hand as the pleasure built up inside of you.

His tongue moved against your clit, teasing it, as his slender fingers moved in and out of pussy with ease picking up the pace groaning against you focusing on how pretty you sound moaning his name.

“You taste so fucking good..baby.” he purred pulling his head up to breathe for a moment as his tongue was relentless as it continued to lick your clit, sending pulses of pleasure through your body, and you felt your legs trembling under his touch.

Your body shudders and trembles with pleasure, sending electric shocks up your spine. Choso slender fingers curl inside you , rubbing against your walls, coaxing your orgasm from you.

“—..fuck…mpht.. g—onna c-cum.”you managed to stammer out, gripping his hair tightly, feeling his teeth lightly grazed against your clit, arching your back against his face as his hand grips your thighs keeping, his steady pace increasing the pace of his fingers on your inside of you.

Your breath catches in your throat as his tongue circles the sensitive cunt and your body starts to tense up. His teeth lightly graze against your clit, sending you over the edge.

“Be a good girl and cum for me.” He teases against your skin, loving how much your body reacts underneath him.

Choso tongue circles around your throbbing clit, licking and teasing it until you can't take it any longer. He gently sucks on your clit as he teases it with his tongue, tittering you the edge.

You can feel the pressure oursing through your body as you reach your peak, and he doesn't let up even as you climax. His fingers curl inside of you, pushing you further and further over the edge as you breathless let out a moan of pleasure

—-closing your eyes and savoring the moment, feeling the warmth of his tongue and the gentle caress of his lips against your skin. You feel the waves of pleasure wash over you as he continues to lick and tease your clit, pushing you to the edge of ecstasy.

Soon the pleasure builds to an overwhelming intensity, and you let out a cry of pleasure as you reach your climax. Your body trembles and your breaths become short and ragged as you reach the peak of pleasure.

You lay there, exhausted, as he pulls away, licking the cum off his lips and pressing a soft kiss against your forehead before heading to the bathroom.

He came back soon after and helped you up, supporting your weight as you stumbled to the bathroom, and you both settled into the tub, with him behind you, his arms wrapped around your waist, and you both just relaxed in the warm water, feeling content and satisfied.

You were relieved to be able to relax, and you allowed yourself to drift away as the warm water of the bath soothes your aching body for the night.

Looks like nanami got a taste of his own medicine(in heaven)

@kazushawty @hoshigray @hqkalon @merakidoll @ncentic @ghoulishfrk @zarihaaa @erensbaebee @honeybleed @kentoism @katviez @satocidal @satoruhour @dprkento @littlemochabunni @killzenin @ryukenzz @jilval @syliseslove @preciousamethyst @spideyyeet @charbunxxi @chrollohearttags @omgeto @kingkonoha @rinacantspell @tsukiboo @junevenile @junemaru @cyberssapphic @xsatoru @ramonathinks @marimogf

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azrielwingspan · 2 months

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'HIGH' PRAISE (AZRIEL X READER)

I am on a roll damn. Another idea that I jotted down as quick as I could. Enjoy !!

Summary: Mirthroot and alcohol can work in your favour sometimes. You have a very interesting conversation with Azriel.

Warnings : Mention of substances, mild swearing. MDNI !

"You are a saviour Y/N." Mor said taking a hit from the mirthroot joint. The party was in full swing downstairs but you and Mor had found solace in her balcony.

"Don't thank me. Thank the male who was nice enough to give it up." you said taking your turn.

The lightness in your head was making you giddy and talkative. You could feel the slight tingle at your nerve ends, you body feeling detached from reality.

"He probably wanted to get into your pants."

"I know."

Mor let out a bark of laughter at that statement and leaned back against the wall. Her eyes had taken on a reddish tinge and you were sure that yours were probably worse. Your mouth felt numb and you smacked your lips cringing at the dryness of your mouth.

"I need something to drink. And eat. Chocolate cake sounds good. Chocolate cake with a side of yoghurt sounds even better. Add some good wine to it. What do you think?" your mind was moving too fast for your mouth to catch up to.

"It sounds terrible. Let's do it." You and Mor giggled clutching each others hands. That was some really strong mirthroot.

You made your way back to the party hyper focusing on every step being taken. Being high and face planting did not seem like a good combination. Your brain was a different entity, screaming at you to act normal. It was a party for fucks sake. Who acts normal anyways?

Grabbing Mor's hand , the both of you made your way over to the drinks table dodging your way through familiar faces. You refused to speak to anyone until you got your hands on the wine.

After chugging down half a bottle to quench your thirst, you noticed Azriel sitting with another male chatting about something.

"Mor."

"Yeah?"

"I think Azriel and I would make a fantastic couple."

The shattering of glass snapped you out of your hyper focused state for a beat.

It wasn't Mor.

Oh.

Back to hyper focused state.

"You would." she responded , a completely serious expression gracing her face.

"Should we tell him?" you asked, an illegal amount of bravery shooting through your veins. Not a single cell in your body thought this was a bad idea.

A new wave of idiocy hit you. The effects of the wine and mirthroot combined were doing wonders for your sanity right now.

"We should. Come on." This time, Mor was the one dragging you through the crowd, once again dodging everyone.

"Az!"

He turned to look at Mor, his own slightly glazed from the amount of alcohol he had consumed.

"Y/N thinks---"

The male that was speaking to Azriel stood up and interrupted Mor, asking for a dance. Immediately forgetting why she was there, Mor walked away with him leaving you with Azriel.

"What do you think?" Az asked, his voice husky. Ugh, it was doing strange things to you.

"I think---"

"Are you high?" Az asked, holding in his laugh.

"Az you idiot. You never ask someone who's high if they're high. Way to ruin it!"

"Okay my bad. Sorry. Come here."

He motioned to the space next to him on the couch.

"No. No. I have chocolate cake plans. I just wanted to let you know that I think...and Mor thinks as well...that we would make a fantastic couple. I mean look at you. Look at me. Stunners. Jaw droppingly good looking. What's stopping us?"

Az looked thoroughly amused as you continued defending your statement.

"Y/N." he said stopping you before you went off on a different tangent. "Come here." This time he motioned to his lap.

Yeah chocolate cake could wait.

You went over and sat down sideways on his lap, wrapping you arms around his shoulders while his hands found their place on your hips.

"Tomorrow, I want you to come to me and tell me the same thing. Then we'll see how well this fantastic couple thing works out yeah?"

He touched his forehead to yours , the affectionate gesture bringing a grin to your face.

"Okay."

"Good girl. Now come on let's get you some chocolate cake."

"Fantastic."

#azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #acotar series #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel x reader #acomaf #azriel fic #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel spymaster #azriel series #mor acotar #morrigan #azriel fluff #shadowsinger x reader

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wandasfifthwife · 1 month

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(1) a classic get-together | I got a bad idea series

—> masterlist

southern!wandanat x fem!city-girl reader

tw: mention of past animal death (horse), alcohol discussion and consumption (r), r gets drunk, messy family dynamics, R is an emotional drunk lmao (enjoy the embarrassment), introduction chapter (I’m sorry if it’s boring, but this sets up the story haha)

a/n: NOT proofread. I’m so sorry for the choppy writing and if there’s any grammar or spelling errors. I’m publishing this right after I had finished writing it. Please be patience with me, I’ll edit later tonight :)

The fields that stretch in for miles and fresh breeze brings a sense of nostalgia when you step out from the car. Small rocks grind together under your feet as you make your way up towards the door. You greet your grandparents with a smile, shrugging your bag further onto your back to hug them comfortably.

“Oh dear, let me grab that for you.”

Your grandpa reaches behind you to remove the weight from your back. You thank him and turn back to your grandma.

“It’s so good to see you,” she starts, “how’s the job doing?”

“Good, pretty good.”

Your mom comes up behind you, resting a hand on your shoulder, “my sister’s family is coming behind us. Can you help them bring their stuff inside?”

You nod at her request, kicking your shoes off and following them inside. Being in the city you’ve had a few dreams about their home. Now being back in town, it feels unreal.

“You can take the guest room upstairs, I have set some blankets out since our AC doesn’t work very well keeping the chill out.”

You thank her and walk behind your grandfather towards the stairway. Each step elicits a cracking sound from the old wooden stairs. He sets your stuff on the bed and pulls you into another hug.

“It’s so good to see you again, it’s been what, almost five years?”

“That’s too long,” you relax into the hug, “it’s good to see you too.”

“We got a new horse. We’d love for you to take him out sometime to get him used to another rider.”

“Well, I can try later in the week.”

He leaves you alone, giving you time to unload your stuff into the drawers. You’re tucking your duffel under the bed when excited voices from below float into the room. There were five more entering into the room, exchanging hugs with one another.

You wonder down the stairs, a smile on your face as you greet everyone you from across. Keeping true to your promise, you walk out to their car to carry any extra luggage they had during their drive down. Your aunt pulls you into probably the tenth hug you’ve had today, and definitely not the last.

“You’ve grown so much. Last I saw you was when you were a senior in high school.”

“And since then you’ve had another son,” you squeeze her hands to show your elation, “congrats.”

She laughs and waves you off, “thank you. How’s your job been treating you?”

“It’s good,” you almost wheeze from the weight of her suitcase. Trying to drag it up the stairs was impossible, she had to help you lift.

Each hour passed brought more people until almost fifty people were residing in the house. There weren’t enough rooms for everyone. Those who didn’t have a room had booked a hotel room not too far away.

It was a flurry of people back to back. The building wasn’t small, but it wasn’t the best space to host multiple family members.

A surprised noise sounds from you when your grandpa comes up behind you and drags you towards his bedroom.

“I’ve been re-fixing the fence out there after that storm a couple weeks ago, and I found this. I want to give it to you before I forget.”

He places a heavy object into your hands. You turn your wrist, flipping the item to look at it better.

“Is this the international coin I lost as a kid?”

He nods and you look at him crazy, “how?”

“You raved over that. Came and told me you were going to be an archeologist. Now here you are in corporate.”

You roll your eyes dramatically and put it in your back pocket, “life isn’t very fair. I would have done that if I could understand math.”

“That’s alright. I’m not good at math either, I leave that to my wife,” he says with a weird laugh, leading you back into the hallway.

The youngest in the family, a cousin of yours, comes barreling towards the two of you. You’re quick to pick him up and rest him on your hip. Though having three younger siblings was a mess in and of itself, it helped you and other’s when you were able to care for the kids during events like these.

“While the others finish setting everything up, would you be alright with watching him until then?”

“I don’t mind,” your answer brings a smile to his face.

You wondered back into your bedroom, reaching into the old closet to grab a few things before heading back downstairs. He squirmed in your arms, whining about being let go so he could find the horses.

It was a matter of time before him, and the three other little ones, spent their time outside with the animals. They believed it was a 24/7 petting zoo where they could slap their hands on an animal for hours and laugh at every movement they made.

For now since the sun was beginning to set, the entertainment had to be inside. That news was seemingly the worse thing to tell him.

“But why?”

“Because it’s dark, there could be a fox out there. They’re not like the horses, they’ll bite.”

“Horses bite.”

“Yes, but for a different reason. That’s because you’re giving them food.”

He has yet to understand that horses can be devils, but now isn’t the time to scare him of the one thing he enjoys seeing. Your aunt is happy to see you with him, and she tells you such.

“Oh it’s no problem.”

“Thank you still for watching him. Once everything is set I can take him.”

“All good. I’ve done this for most of my life it’s like second nature.”

With a squeeze to your shoulder, she’s left to head back to chatting with your parents.

Your grandfather brings you to sit on the couch, letting your cousin play on the almost uncomfortable rug.

“We now have a minute to talk. How’s New York?”

“It’s beautiful, definitely smells at times.”

“Ah, just like here. Your mom told me when you got here that you’re thinking of staying up there, is that right?”

“I think so,” you look down, watching your cousin, “I feel more at peace there.”

“You mean scooping up horse manure isn’t for you? Or hauling hay? Or driving an hour to the store to get more feed?”

“No, not anymore.”

He laughs, “and I was going to ask you to help around this week.”

“Oh,” you start to feel bad, “well I don’t mind—“

He jumps up from his seat, the action causing you to jerk back, “alrighty, thank you.”

He allows no do-overs as he wonders towards the front door. His hands come to grab a nearby person and he shoves them towards you.

“I watched you get roped into work.”

“I didn’t get roped in. I was going to help regardless, or else I’d be staying here for free.”

Your younger brother grins, “or maybe it’s because I’ve had to do all of it while you’ve been gone.”

“I know, you’ve told me this every day since I’ve gotten back.”

He shrugs, “it’s the truth.”

He reaches behind himself and reaches into the cooler, handing you a can. You go to move it out of your face, but he persists.

“I know you’re a lightweight, but one drink? Gonna turn down one?”

The door opens and another group you don’t recognize walks in, you’re taking it from his hands while he’s distracted. You crack the top off on the opener beside you.

“It’s not that I don’t want to be here, it’s that I don’t want to be here with so many people,” he tells you, jumping back when the bottle cap flings at him.

“That’s because you’re an introvert.”

“I can talk to people though.”

“Are you stupid? I’m not calling you awkward, I’m saying you don’t like crowds.”

“That’s the same thing.”

He watches you drink it with a wince, “you didn’t have to do all that to prove a point. You’re still a lightweight at the end of the night.”

“No, I did that because ma’s coming toward us.”

He gives you a faux pout as you get dragged off by your grandma. She brings you to the front of the house, past where a few people had gathered in random spots of the living room.

“I wanted to introduce you because I’m not sure if you remember who they are,” she begins, and her words hit a nerve. She acts like you have dementia after a five year break, but still you put your hand out.

“It’s nice to see you again.”

“You as well,” she responds, and it’s then you realize you don’t remember who they are. The room fades slightly as you wrack your already dizzy mind for something.

Your grandma looks at you funny, “have you had something to drink already?”

In the distance you swear you hear your brother laugh. The mood grows more awkward with each minute. You’re grateful for the people around giving a sense of community while you feel like strangers to those in front of you.

“Neighbors, right? I think we met just before I left for college.”

A short conversation later and the memories appear more clearly. The two talking with your grandparents just before they had driven you to the airport. It was short, but you’re thankful you remember as it allowed you to dodge your grandma’s last question.

Your grandma seats them in the sun room and promptly leaves the three of you, saying she needed to make sure her husband wasn’t ruining the labeling of food.

“How was college?”

You look to the one with a braid, the one whose hands were rough when they shook yours, “it was alright. I graduated.”

“Glad you did what you go to college for.”

Her delivery falls flat and it makes your heart race. Your eyes slightly water, the sight making her face squeeze into confusion.

“How much have you drank tonight?”

“One,” you say with a pitiful sniffle.

“Lightweight?”

You nod and they look at you in amusement. Your eyes follow where they’re looking and they land on the half full bottle in your hands, “oh whoops my bad. Actually this is my second.”

You lift the bottle with a proud look and one has the audacity to clap. You smile silly at the affection and ramble into your city life, delving deep into the tea between you and your boss. The two stay seated, hands interwoven as they enjoy the show you’re giving them.

The wall against your bicep is cold. With the way your body was warming, your skin chased after the feeling. You find your face leaning into it before your whole body is on the ground, right by the doorway.

You were sure you were maintaining wonderful conversation with the two new faces, but everything you remember was becoming a blur. It felt like ten seconds, but it happened open the span of ten minutes. The embarrassment had completely disappeared as you laid there unsuspecting, growing incredibly wasted.

One of the women, the one you recognize as short braid, sits beside you. She puts a hand to your forehead but you try to push it off.

“No,” you cry, “you’re mean.”

“Her face is burning,” she relays the information to her wife. The two look at you in amusement as well as concern.

“I’m burning because a beautiful woman is touching me.”

Your sober self is grateful she chose to ignore what you said. Hands lift you off the ground until you’re lying down on a softer surface, and definitely colder. The pressure on your arm leaves and it spirals you downwards.

You can hear them talking in the back, a man’s voice between them. What they’re saying, you can understand but you’re not grasping anything. With your mind focused on how the cold hand left you, nothing else seems to be your focus. It’s the creaking of the door shutting that feels like you’re drowning.

“Don’t leave me,” you look blearily at the door, “please.”

You hear a laugh, but it doesn’t register as anything other than someone mocking you.

“Fine, then leave me here like to always do.”

“Nobody’s leaving you.”

“No it’s okay. You just hate me”

The expression and dramatic nature exuding from you is hilarious. Every small laugh coming from you throws them off when more tears glisten down your cheeks

“Nobody here is upset at you, angel,” wanda’s hand rubs gentle circles against your back. You find yourself leaning into it, the tears stopping as your mind clears. The floor creeks and you’re being sit up.

“I don’t feel super great,” you mumble to them, “I’m sorry for being annoying.”

“Not annoying,” wanda responds and tilts to your head back, “I have some water and I’d like you to drink some, okay?”

After you’re laying back on the bed immediately. The world had begun to feel dizzying, almost nauseating when she held you upright. Without her hand there, you’d surely pass out.

The room is suddenly too quiet. You had tried to see them but the overhead light took a stab at your already overwhelming headache.

“We’re still here. How’re you feeling?”

“Death.”

Wanda laughs softly and Natasha feels your forehead again, “you don’t feel as hot.“

Your mother enters in then, and you attempt to sit up but you wince. A cry spewing from you, “I can’t see anymore, mom.”

She clicks her teeth, “mom told me you drank too much. Should’ve known. Thank you for helping, I can deal with her from here.”

Natasha’s wrists are enclosed in a tight embrace, your hands squeezing the life out of them with as much strength as you had.

“Please don’t leave me with her,” you whine, “she’ll toss me around.”

The clock beside them reads 11:28PM. She looked to it and sighed, deciding it was too late to deal with anything. Wanda stood from the bed, crossing the room to stand by her.

“I love her but she’s as stubborn as a mule.”

“Completely up to you, but we could her stay on our mattress downstairs?”

“That’s fine. I don’t think she’ll allow any of us to help her, I mean look at her.”

You were half lying in Natasha’s lap, tangled with her body. Dried tear marks lined your cheeks, dust from the floor lining your jeans.

It was a journey trying to drag your body down the hallway. A moment collapsed where you tripped over the rug. The best plan of action was Natasha carrying you princess style. Your grandma got a glimpse from where she sat in the living room.

She rushed to your side, “you taking her back to your place?”

“Only if that’s alright with you. She starts to cry almost everytime we begun to leave.”

“Absolutely,” she pats her shoulder with a slight laugh, “she got wasted, I could tell right away. I’ll have to talk to her brother, he’s collapsed on her bed right now. I’m sure he’s initiating something.”

They wish you a goodnight, stepping back and letting them through. You tilt your head back once they’ve stepped outside.

“Feels nice.”

You back far enough that Wanda reaches a hand to cup your head. Natasha adjusts her hold on you while looking to Wanda.

“I’m betting she’s going to get sick. Our guest room is the closest to the bathroom?”

“I won’t get sick of you,” you tuck your head under her neck. The first minute of the breeze was wonderful, but since then and due to your lack of layers, you’re relying on her body heat.

It gets darker the further you walk from the house. Wanda takes out her phone, using the flashlight to help guide their steps.

The pond nearby holds a connection of small critters, their sounds echoing through the trees. The married couple makes small conversation. Every two minutes they’re trying to keep you awake, but it grew difficult.

“Hey, stay awake. We’re almost there, you can see the porch light.”

“I can’t see shit, I’m drunk.”

Natasha laughs at the quip, enjoying the look of annoyance on her wife’s face. Wanda walks up the porch first, the keys jingling in her hand as she searches for the right one. Their home smells like clean fabrics and floral perfume. Your eyes grow heavy, each step and soft sound luring you in deeper. The gentle nudge does nothing to stop you completely falling under this time.

masterlist | next chapter

taglist

@simpforlizzie @huggingkoalas @yvungmxshroom @hella-hecka-gay @sgm616

@sappic-simp4015 @puta1 @natty-taffy @the-chocolate-void @scarlizziee @mysticalmoonlight7 @jazzabebev @delulu-bayolet-era @olicity-boo @esposadejoyhuerta @marvelwomen-simp

(I tried to tag everyone who commented, if it didn’t work it’s because it didn’t let me!)

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rayaswrittings · 4 months

Text

What friends are for

Pairing: Sam Golbach x Fem!Best friend reader

Summary: After seeing all your friends with their partners, you start to realize you don’t know how to do some of the things they do and get pretty nervous to ask about it. But don’t worry, you have a best friend who’ll teach you.

Warnings: Mature language, Kissing, Choking, moaning, semi public, idiots in love, etc. (not proof read!!! Sorry for mistakes!)

Forget.

They all forget you as soon as their around. They all leave once they have someone. It all happened so fast; your once childhood best friends, left you alone, not a care in the world they were almost all you had. One minute you were laughing with your best friends, and the next you were sitting alone while they ran off to their boyfriends. You didn’t understand, what did they have that you didn’t? Were you not enough? God, you were so jealous of them. You wanted a boyfriend—you wanted someone to look at you like that.

Like you’d been someone’s world.

Sometimes you wondered if you’d ever talk to your friends again, or at least when you’d talk to them. It hurt that they left you that easily, because you knew you’d never do that to them. It was so easy for them, alluring guys like it was nothing. You were so awkward, you didn’t even want to look a man in the eye. Especially the boy you had liked for so long.

While your friends found their partners, they were almost positive yours had been right in front of you. The boy you’d stay up all night thinking about, the boy you’d go to war for, the boy you grew up with.

Sam Golbach.

He was the sweetest boy you’d ever met. He treated you with respect and would often stare at you when you painted—he always said he admired your ability to detach from reality. Sam never left you alone, even if you tried to hide from him, he’d always find you. He checked on you daily, and it was clear to other men to never touch you the wrong way. Your crush had started only about a month after you had turned 16, being as your emotions and hormones were done developing. You were friends with Colby first but it wasn’t long before you met Sam too. You caught yourself staring at him daily, fantasizing about what it would feel like to have his lips on yours. It felt so weird—you felt so weird thinking of him that way.

But you couldn’t stop it.

Now, you were sat in front of your favorite spot in the groups shared summer house. The roof where you and Sam would often go to talk about your shitty days. You leaned forward on the bench while you hummed, trying your best to calm yourself down from the breakdown you’d just had. It sucked because you knew you had to grow up. You had to find your person sooner or later.

“What’s wrong with you?” The voice almost instantly made you come back to reality, snapping your head in the direction it came from. Of course it’s him you couldn’t help but think, sighing as the tall figure came to sit next to you. He had a white claw in his hand, urging it to you but you shook your head. Usually, you’d be up for a drink or two, but definitely not today. “Something is definitely wrong. You never turn down a drink after seeing your parents”

He was right, you hated seeing your parents lately. They’d only ever asked about if you had met someone, or if you had decided what to do after your gap year before figuring out your actual future career. You hated that he knew you so well, like his eyes could read you like an open book. “It’s nothing, Sam” His eyebrows furrow at his name leaving your mouth, you weren’t even looking at him.

“Is it your parents?” You didn’t answer, hoping he’d just let it go but obviously he wouldn’t. It was Sam, he wasn’t going to let you off that easy. “Did someone hurt you?”

“No. Why do you always jump to that conclusion?” He fell silent at your words, unsure of what to do next. He’d usually be all you needed to feel better, but today was so much different. His shoulder nudged yours and you looked at the boy, except he didn’t say anything.

He just sat there with a small smile plastered to his face, like he was wanted you to return it. Even upset you still did, a laugh leaving your lips as you shook your head. “Talk to me, lemon” that nickname, the nickname he’d given you when you were only juniors in high school. It was given to you because it was white literally how he met you, not by Colby—but by fighting over the last lemon cake at lunch.

You won, Obviously.

You hesitated, cheeks burning with embarrassment. You wanted to tell him, but did you really? Maybe it was better to get this off your chest. It was a horrible idea. Sam was your best friend, but he was also the boy you had a crush on since you were young, and you were terrified to open up to him.

“I’m just… it feels—I don’t know, Sam” You struggle to find the words, his eyes still on you the entire time you thought. “My friends all jumped into their relationships like it was nothing—what if I can’t do that? I don’t know how to do anything”

“Don’t know how to do what?” You urge him, nodding your head and moving your hands in different directions to try and explain but it only confused him more. “Would you just tell me?” You rolled your eyes.

“Like…you know” His eyebrows furrowed and you sighed, accepting your defeat. “I don’t know how to kiss, or anything like that” you looked away from him, afraid he’d laugh at you. In a perfect world, you’d wish you didn’t have to tell him, but you knew he wouldn’t let this go—much less let you cry about it. “It’s embarrassing—I know. I wasn’t supposed to tell you I just—“”

“It’s not embarrassing, Y/N” Your eyes didn’t dare to meet his, even when his hand rested on your shoulder. It was embarrassing, whether he thought so or not. You felt so weird telling him these things, telling him how you were useless when it came to this. “Do you…want me to teach you?” That’s when your head turned to look at him, noticing his nervous tone in voice but his eyes were sincere. He didn’t like seeing you upset, and he’d do whatever he could to make you happy.

“Like…kiss me?” You trail and he nods his head, your stomach falling into a pit at his words. “Y-you’d kiss me?” He chuckles at your soft voice, your nervousness becoming very visible now. She’s so cute when she’s nervous the boys mind ran thought after thought while you stared at him, hoping he wasn’t joking.

“Your my best friend… I just want to help you” Your heart jumped, eyes slightly lighting up at his proposal. He wants to kiss me! You couldn’t help but smile small, head dropping for a second to hide it. His hand cupped your face gently, bringing it back up to look at him. “Looks like we’ll be practicing after all, huh?”

“This’ll probably suck…” You try to stall but he was already leaning down, his lips brushing against your own waiting for you to take the final step. You were so nervous, but man, you wanted to kiss him so badly. With the largest amount of courage in you, you leaned up a little further, lips attaching to his.

This must’ve been a dream. Not only was this your first kiss, but you were kissing him. You were kissing Sam Golbach. It felt surreal, your best friend of so many years—he wanted to kiss you, he wanted to help you. You sat there for what felt like forever, thoughts running wild at the feeling of his soft lips against yours. His hand fit perfectly against your face, pulling you slightly back and your lips felt empty without his, a sigh leaving your chest.

“Was it bad…” you ask with hesitation, his eyes not being easy to read. You were afraid you’d embarrassed yourself, afraid he’d judge you. You should have known he would never do that.

“That was your first kiss?” You nod, your eyes still searching his for his opinion. “Could’ve fooled me” You watched him closely while he laughed, how his face changed and his sweet demeanor was now very noticeable. You felt at the ease—you knew in that moment he’d never judge you. “You did so good, just one thing” you raise your eyebrows but before you could say anything, his face was leaning down closer to your own, probably until his breath tickled your ear. “Your eager, slow down a little” Usually that would have made you sad, but you couldn’t ignore the tingling feeling between your legs every time he spoke.

“Sorry…” you feel his finger tips glide against your bare thigh, his free hand cupping your face gently. You couldn’t wait, you wanted to kiss him now. You didn’t have time to talk before you leaned into him, catching his lips in your own earning a small noise from him. A shiver shot up your spine at the sweet sound, hand now laid against his thigh for balance. “Your…” You try to choke out between breaths and kisses but it was almost impossible, breathing out your own air and then breathing his in.

“I’m what, Lemon?” He asks in a teasing tone, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. You didn’t bother to pull away from him, only moving your faces a few inches apart so your lips still dared to brush against one another’s.

“Your so good at this…” your forehead fell against his and your eyes shut, fingers finding his own. He had never heard so much love in your voice, seen so much love in your eyes, he was so in love with you. How could you be so blind? You should have known by the way he kissed you. His lips were soft and delicate against yours, making sure he wasn’t pushing you too far. His scent was filling your nose fast and you knew you couldn’t stay here much longer. You would go absolutely feral over your best friend. “One more time?”

A smirk pulls at his lips while his hand cups your face once again, leaning into the beautiful girl in front of him with ease. She let her hands roam to his hair, lips beginning to move against his. His heart was pounding hard. He needed you to see him, he needed you to be his.

The small sound that slipped from your mouth had made his ears perk high, lips starting to move against your own harder then before. What was life? You never thought you’d be sitting here, practically making out with your best friend. That same undeniably attractive scent clouded your nose once again and you could feel the tips of your ears brim with heat, fighting against your own body to not pull his closer.

“Sammy” you pull away before it can get too heated, although his nicknames comes out in a slight Moan and you notice his expression matched yours. His eyes were beaming with desire just as your own, and the butterflies in your stomach were going crazy just thinking of him. You had to leave. You had to leave before you did something really bad. “I-I… I have to go” You rushed to your feet but he grabbed your arm, eyes narrowing to search yours. Did he scare you away? Was he not good? Why were you running?

“Did I do something?” He asks, slightly nervous you might say yes. You shake your head and pick up the shoes you had took off, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek. “Y/N-“

“Thanks for helping me… I’ll see you around” You left before he could say anything else, the heat in your body burning as you walked down the stairs, farther and farther. Sam still sat on the roof, loss for words as his lips tingled from the sudden loss of contact.

He couldn’t help but sit and question himself, reasons on top of reasons that might’ve been the reason you left so fast, but none of them felt right. The force between you, the love in your eyes… he felt it too.

but why did you run?

#sam and colby #sam golbach fanfic #sam golbach smut #sam and colby smut #sam golbach #xplr #xplr club #sam and colby fanfiction #colby brock #colby brock x reader #colby brock angst #colby brock fanfic #colby brock fic #colby brock fluff #colby x reader #fluff

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perlelune · 5 months

Text

Oxytocin | Coriolanus Snow | ii.

One act of kindness from a peacekeeper may be your salvation or your doom. Possibly both.

Warnings: NON-CON, Blackmail, District 8 Reader, Stalking, Kidnapping

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

You do your best to avoid him for as long as you can.

You show up at the factory each day, diligent and focused on your work. You thread, dye and sew miles upon miles of fabric. It’s exhausting and repetitive but assists you well in burying the peculiar encounter. And if sometimes a particular shade of blue fabric stir memories of eyes you’d rather forget…you ignore that as well. It’s better that way. You narrowly escaped imprisonment, perhaps even death. No need to tempt fate once again.

But it’s no matter.

Because fate finds you anyway.

It happens as the end of your shift at the factory comes near. Your cold-bitten digits are interweaving two different colors of thread on a gigantic wooden loom. Same as the girls and boys surrounding you. They’re all quick and efficient, threading and weaving with the ease of practice. A lifetime of it. Some of them are as young as five years old. There’s a saying floating around the districts.

If one can walk, they can work.

You often wondered if that same logic applies to the Capitol’s children. Are they too expected to work until their fingers are numb with pain and their eyes red-rimmed with fatigue?

You somehow doubt it.

Once again, the weight of someone’s attention blankets your shoulders. You tense, the needle nicking your fingertip when your attention falters.

You curse and swipe away the blood beading on your finger.

Your head rises.

Anger simmers inside you at the sight of the smug face smirking at you from across the room.

Coriolanus.

He showed up one hour ago, switching places with another guard, and proceeded to stare at you since.

Dread pools in your gut. His gaze hasn’t strayed from you once.

What could the peacekeeper possibly want from you?

You have nothing, and it’s obvious he’s some rich kid from the Capitol who somehow found his way here.

“Your yarn is coming loose.”

Yara’s frenzied tone wrenches you away from your thoughts.

You look down, your forehead scrunching as you do. She’s right. The threads have broken out of their pattern, forming disgraceful zigzags over the loom.

Besides, there’s a minuscule crimson stain on the fabric. The pristine beige cloth is now ruined. This will come out of your pay.

Your ire grows. Your gaze narrows as it finds Coriolanus’. This is all his fault. He distracted you. Annoyance at the strange peacekeeper gleams inside you.

You bolt up from your stool.

“I have to go,” you announce, already gathering your satchel from the floor.

Yara’s eyes round. “Our shift’s not over yet,” she whispers below her breath, tossing wary glances at the guards. Your frown deepens. Any slight sign of disobedience could be seen as a hint of rebellion these days. It’s how much the Capitol wants to avoid a return to the Dark Days.

You smile at her in reassurance.

Yara was kind enough to show you the ropes when you started working at the textile factory. She even stayed late at night with you to teach you the most complex needlepoints.

Fidgeting, you apologize, “I’m sorry, but it’s an emergency. I’ve ruined it anyway.”

You don’t stick around for her response, rushing towards the nearest corridor to slip away.

A deep, teasing lilt echoes behind you in the hallway.

“Still trying to fly away from me, huh?”

Your heart leaps. Not again.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you chide as you keep hastening across the hallway. It doesn’t matter though. A stolen glimpse at your back reveals to you that Coriolanus’ long legs easily maintain pace with your frantic strides.

You unleash a weary sigh.

“I shouldn’t but I am, pretty bird.”

You can hear the smile in his voice and it infuriates you more.

“Leave me alone, Coriolanus-”

A sharp breath ripples through your throat as warm fingers suddenly clasp around your arm.

“What are you…”

The large hand that drapes over your mouth quiets your budding protest.

Ignoring your muffled shouts, he pulls you flush against his frame and drags you into a dark room inside another hallway.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you grab at anything you can. He’s undeterred by your feistiness, only unhanding you once he’s slammed the door shut.

A chill dances on your spine as every deadbolt is meticulously slid into place by him.

Leaning back against the locked door, Coriolanus’s eyes drag over you. He drinks you in for a while as you retreat, as far away from him as the small room allows.

Uncrossing his arms, the blonde starts inching towards you.

Your nerves flare up at his impending proximity. A heavy sigh drops from his chest.

“Why do you make that face when I’m only trying to help you?”

“I don’t want any help from you. I want nothing from you,” you shout.

He tilts his head, closing the distance. He shoves his hand in his pocket, seeming to search for something. You freeze.

Shock rocks through you when he conjures a familiar vial, shaking it in front of your face.

“Hm, Are you sure?” he taunts.

The urge to steal it from him has your fingertips tingling. But you tried that before, and it didn’t work in your favor. So you snuff out the impulse.

“How did you find out?”

“I have my ways.”

You search his stark cobalt orbs. They give nothing away.

“I just want to take care of you,” he adds.

“Why?”

You startle as his long fingers creep under your chin. You didn’t realize how close he’d gotten, now bending over you so you’re at eye-level.

“Because I can. I could make your life easier.”

His tender inflection, oddly intimate, makes discomfort pool in your stomach.

“I don’t need…”

“Take it.”

As you do nothing to take the bottle he holds up in his fist, Coriolanus exhales wearily.

You gasp when he shoves the vial between your trembling palms.

“Don’t be stupid,” he admonishes. “That cousin of yours won’t make it through winter without these. They’re antibiotics.”

You stare down at the amber bottle. Your shoulders slump. You hate to admit it but he’s probably right. Tilly’s coughing fits are progressively getting worse. She can hardly breathe properly most days. It hurts to see and you’ve been praying for a way to help her.

And now you have that way. Is it even fair to Tilly to turn his help down because of your own personal hang ups with the peacekeeper?

His motives elude you but you’re not sure it matters at that moment.

Tilly’s life is on the line.

Your fingers squeeze around the vial.

“I know what they are. It’s written on the bottle.”

Interest springs in his cobalt gaze.

“You can read? Interesting,” he hums. “Most people can’t in the districts.”

Your cheeks heat at his assumption. A respectable amount of people in the districts can in fact read. Not the majority, but a few at least. The knowledge just isn’t widespread enough and schools are a luxury most districts cannot afford.

“My grandmother taught me when I was young,” you defend.

He pauses, studying your defiant features.

His hand wraps around your hand holding the bottle. You try not to shrink, afraid he’ll take it back.

His thumb sweeps over your knuckles.

“These are very rare and hard to get. Don’t let your pride get in the way, pretty bird.”

“I won’t,” you mumble.

Another bag materializes before you. Coriolanus nudges it in your arms before you can think to protest. “Take that too.”

You glare at him suspiciously. “What is it?”

“Food, water, supplies.”

Grounded in disbelief, you peer inside the bag. Your jaw hangs slack. He wasn’t lying. The bag is brimming with rations. There’s even a few slices of bread and cheese on top. This has to be worth at least a hundred coins.

You purse your lips. “I can’t accept…I have nothing to repay you.”

Corolianus sighs, keeping the bag in your hands with his steely grip as you attempt to return it.

“Then just remember you live because of me,” he says. A lopsided smile blooms on his lips. “That’s the only payment I require.”

You snort. It can’t possibly be that simple, can it?

But Coriolanus’ features harbor no mirth. Skepticism heightens your pitch.

“That’s it?”

“Yes.”

You nod. “Okay, I will.”

Displeasure flickers in his gaze. His fingers sneak below your chin to angle it upward, forcing you to drown in his cobalt stare.

“No, I want to hear you say it, sweet bird.” His tone is laced with a solemnity that wasn’t there before. Your stomach knots. “That you live by the will of Coriolanus Snow.”

A shaky breath flows out of you. You’re suddenly reluctant under his keen scrutiny.

Still, your voice comes out a tremulous croak.

“I live because of you, Coriolanus Snow.”

His entire face lights up with your words, a strange glow appearing in his orbs.

For some reason, you feel as if you just tied a noose around your own neck.

You take a sip of your beer, basking in the bitter, heady aftertaste. Usually, you’re not much of a drinker, but it’s the first true respite you’ve gotten from the blue-eyed peacekeeper in many weeks and you plan on enjoying it.

A tavern wouldn’t be your first choice but Yara invited you and it occurred to you this isn’t the kind of place a boy smelling like old money and roses would visit.

It’s rare for you to be anywhere these days without his disarming presence hovering in a corner of the room.

You’ve even considered abandoning your job at the factory altogether. But it’s not like a girl like you can change careers on a whim. You have no connections, no skill, no talent whatsoever. Nothing but your hard-earned ability to weave threads of fabrics together.

Maybe the mines at the northern end of the district.

It’s far from a tempting prospect. The work is downright dangerous. But at least it would shield you from the peacekeeper’s relentless scrutiny.

“Your shadow isn’t here today," Yara notes.

You drag your eyes away from the band playing on stage.

“My shadow?”

“That pretty boy peacekeeper who follows you around," she elaborates, her lips curved in amusement. You grimace. If only she knew. There isn’t a shred of mirth in your current predicament.

You roll your eyes. “He doesn’t follow me around.”

You refrain from saying he does a plethora of other things that puzzle you and stir your discomfort.

You refuse to trust him, but thanks to him your cousin has been getting noticeably better, even able to walk on her own again now. It’s a relief. Tonight she’s at friend’s and gets to laugh, play and be a regular kid again.

Besides, though it pains you to recognize it, your belly’s fuller than it’s been in a long time.

It shames you to admit it, but it took you no time to cave in and gobble down the food he offered. Hunger does strange things to people.

You loathe yourself for yielding but the feeling of an empty stomach is infinitely worse than that of your wounded pride.

"He is pretty though," your friend says, glancing away dreamily.

Your face warms. "I really don’t care how he looks. I just wish he’d go pester someone else."

"Hm, fair." She drinks from her jug and shrugs. "He could just be bored. I’m sure he’ll stop at some point."

The conversation reaches a halt when a brown-haired guy around your age with a scar across his face stops at your table.

“Can I ask you to dance?” he asks. His cheeks redden as he awaits your response. A quiet glance passes between you and Yara. You kick her under the table when she nearly lets out a chuckle.

Endeared by the boy’s bashful manner, you answer with a smile, “Sure, why not.”

You let the stranger drag you into a dance, your worries fading into the buoyant, lively notes played by the band and the boy’s nonchalant grin.

It’s the kind of normalcy you’ve been longing for.

Engrossed in the moment, as the boy slips a hand around your waist, an audible gasp spills out of you when he pulls away from you out of the blue.

Or rather is wrenched away from you.

Your brows rise to your hairline.

You gape in horror, the sight of Coriolanus hauling the boy up by his lapels striking you mute. His features are taut with anger as the boy’s hands rise defensively. A mix of befuddlement and fear decorates his features.

Guilt needles your chest. You never expected the blond to show up here of all places. Paranoia seizes the chaotic train of your thoughts. Was he here all along, watching you like a hawk the entire time? Is he always here, never wandering too far from wherever you are?

Fear coils your insides.

"Hey," you call out, relief trickling inside you when your legs move again. You make a beeline to Coriolanus.

“What is wrong with you?” you shout, trying to pry him off the poor boy.

It’s not the useless hand scratching his bicep but rather your tone that appears to jerk him out of his trance.

His grip on the boy loosens as he whirls to you. The stranger wastes no time in running away. You can’t even blame him. You can’t imagine there’d be many repercussions if the blond harmed him, but the opposite can’t be said.

Coriolanus’ hands slowly lower before balling into fists.

Irate blue eyes flare as they fall on you.

You recoil.

“With me?” he growls, crowding your space. "His grubby paws were all over you."

You blink in disbelief, shocked by his accusing tone. You did nothing wrong. It’s not like he can tell you who to dance and not dance with. "G-Grubby…what? I’m not some damsel in need of rescuing, Coriolanus."

He squints at you, displeasure evident on his angular features.

His hand latches onto your arm, yanking you towards the exit. You can barely keep up with his furious stomps.

“I think it’s time we had a talk. Come with me.”

“I’d rather stay here."

He ignores you, his grip on you turning deathly. Tears burn the back of your eyes.

“No…”

You toss a desperate look above your shoulder to find your friend just as shocked as you are. She won’t help you. No one will.

Your stomach sinks.

The tears break past the confine of your lashes.

He takes you outside. The chilly air skates across your skin, spreading gooseflesh over it. The silver glow of the moon lights the tortuous path he takes through dim, narrow alleyways. This is nowhere near your cabin and your panic swells.

You dig your heels into the ground, resisting.

Coriolanus heaves out a weary exhale. He hunkers down to pick you up. You squeal, flabbergasted by his nerve. He hoists you on his shoulders as if you were a sack of grain, taking firm, irate steps into the night.

"You can’t do this," you weep, slamming as hard as you can into his back.

Hardly flinching, he scoffs before stating, “I don’t remember asking for your permission, birdie."

#coriolanus snow x reader #dark!coriolanus snow #tbosbas fanfiction #hunger games #coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #divider credit: samspenandsword

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bedoballoons · 8 months

Text

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿─

{༻~They said something they didn't mean~༺}

A/n: Angsty! Hurtful things said, tons of apologies and crying! No comfort in the end.. Sorry :p

Requests/asks open!!

(Includes: Diluc, Albedo, Alhaitham, Xiao and Scaramouche)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𑁍༄Diluc:

You could tell Diluc was annoyed, his hands clenched into tight fists and his face red with anger, his eyes had a rage behind them you'd never seen before...and it kinda scared you. You internally contemplated wether it would be better to leave him be or ask if he needed anything...but sadly...you didn't get the chance to decide.

"Are you just going to stare?" His voice held such a hurtful tone and it made you wonder if you'd been standing there longer than you thought..."I-" You tried but he shot you a look that instantly made you go quiet, "Just leave me alone. I don't need you bothering me right now, I deal with that enough already." His words struck you so harshly, it was like you'd just been slapped in the face...tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

It only took him a split second to realize what he said and instantly afterwords he started to apologize, "Oh no...I'm so sorry, I didn't mean that. You're not bothersome...I-"

𑁍༄Albedo:

Albedo was busy working away in his lab, writing down the various answers of his experiments and perfecting his craft as per usual. Him being busy though wasn't really anything new to you, usually when he found a particularly interesting answer to something he'd get engrossed in it for a long time and you'd usually have to bring him food cause he's forget to eat, and wrap a blanket around him just in case he got cold.

He always seemed to appreciate the thought in your actions...today however he seemed frustrated with them, when you brought him food he said he wasn't hungry and when you attempted to cover him up with a blanket, he shrugged it off, letting it fall onto the ground. You were just about to leave the lab, let him be since that seemed to be what he wanted...when he snapped at you. "Could you please just get out of my way, I have very important things I'm working on and you're not helping."

You went completely silent at his words...all you had tried to do was take care of him like usual...you hadn't meant to get in the way of anything. You felt your eyes watering and quickly muttered a apology, "I'm sorry...I'll get out of your way."

Albedos head shot up as you spoke, realizing not only what you had just said...but how hurtful his own words had been, guilt instantly filled him as he attempted to stop you from leaving. "Wait no...I didn't mean...you're not in my way. I was just busy and I hadn't realised what I said, I'm so sorry, please dont leave...don't go..."

𑁍༄Alhaitham:

Alhaitham was incredibly intelligent, there was zero argument about that and honestly it amazed you, most of the time. Sometimes he'd unintentionally make you feel...like you weren't smart enough and it wasn't like he had tried to on purpose...it was just the way his words had sounded. You have always tried your best to not take it personally...but on a bad day, sometimes it was inevitable.

"Alhaitham? You need anything? Can I help at all?" You asked him, his eyes concentrated on a book about the akademiyas history and his mind deep in thought, to the point you weren't even sure he had heard you, so you asked again. "Alhaithamm? Do you want anything? Is there anyway I can help youuu?" This time you got his attention, his eyes shifting to you with a look of pure annoyance.

"I heard you the first time, I just didn't answer. This isn't something you'd understand, not unless you've doubled your IQ over night...and no I don't need anything." You stepped back, feeling hurt by his words, more than you had in a long time..."I'm sorry...you didn't answer so I thought maybe you hadn't heard me..." You felt so small as you spoke...so stupid...

His eyes narrowed at the sight of your unhappiness, reconsidering what he said but not truly understanding what he had said wrong "My apologies...I've upset you again..."

𑁍༄Xiao:

You knew Xiao would always protect you, honestly it seemed even if you got a paper cut he'd attempt to shred the paper to pieces, making it so it couldn't hurt you again. Obviously, from that alone, he could be a little...over protective. Which wasn't really a bad thing untill he started to worry about hurting you himself, wether it was by his charmic debt or loosing control of his own being, the idea ate at him, to the point it was becoming problematic.

"Xiao calm down, your charmic debt has never really affected me before and I have my full faith in you...you're not going to hurt me. I know that... please you should know that too." You spoke in a soft tone, trying your best to comfort your boyfriend who continued to inch away from you... as if he would hurt you just from being near you. "I want to...I want to know that I'd never hurt you, but I can't. I'm unable to control myself and if anything ever happened to you..because of me, I'd never be able to forgive myself." He was deep in despair and you wanted so badly to comfort him, so you took a step closer.

"Xiao..." You sighed, reaching your hand out to him, but he pulled away, "Don't. Maybe it would be better for you to just...go away." His words knocked the wind out of you, it was like the air had suddenly become unbreathable...he didn't mean that did he? "What..." His eyes met yours and for a split second it was like he wanted to take it back...but he couldn't. "Leave."

𑁍༄Scaramouche:

(I use the nickname Scara here ^-^)

You looked into Scaramouches eyes, your own anger not coming close to the rage he was feeling, but you were used to this, the two of you would argue, with him acting ruder than usual, but you always made up in the end. "Scara just admit you were wrong okay! Once you do, we can end our argument and get back to work!" You already felt tired of yelling, it had barely been two minutes and you wanted so desperately for it to stop.

"I wasn't wrong and I'm still not! Love isn't a real thing, it's a idea people tell themselves is real because they don't want to feel alone!" His words annoyed you, if what the two of you had wasn't love then what was it?? "But you love me! So obviously that's a bold faced lie!" Your heart was racing, what would he say next? If he said the wrong thing...would you two not be able to make up?

"I don't love you, honestly how could I when you're just a mortal and I have the power of a god!" And just like that all your fight left you...he said it...he said he didn't love you and it broke your heart..."I-" You started, but your voice cracked and despite trying to keep strong, tears threatened to fall from your eyes.

Scara watched you intently, wondering if he'd went to far...his face softened and he stepped towards you, "I didn't mean that...", but you didn't want to listen. You looked away from him, moving backwards so he was farther away from you. "Shit....I'm sorry...I love you..I promise I..."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚Have a nice day!*⁠.⁠✧

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number-onekidqueen · 2 months

Text

The Seven Times Luke Castellan Said 'I Love You'

Luke Castellan x Apollo!fem!reader

Pure angst.

3.7k words

Warnings: death, injury, insecurities, bad parenting, spoilers for Percy Jackson book series.

One.

Luke must’ve been four the first time he ever said those three words.

He’d been at preschool, and it was the second week. He’d missed mommy. He felt different to all the other kids, and there were all these really scary faces that kept popping out of bushes that no one else could see. His mommy had picked him up early when the preschool called, and taken him home to a surprise. She’d baked his favourite: choc chip cookies, and he was even allowed to drink Kool-Aid too!

“I love you, mommy!!” He’d mumbled, while he stuffed his little mouth with the baked goods, in a sugary daze.

It made him feel so much better, knowing at least he had mommy to always come home to and rely on.

If only that had been true.

Two.

He was 9 when he said that sentence for the second time.

Mom wasn’t there for him anymore.

He was scared to go to school and leave her alone, because every time he got home, she would be insane. It’s like she wasn’t there with him anymore.

She would scream so loud and her eyes would be bright green, and she’d shake him and cry, wailing about how he was going to die. Usually it would make him so disturbed he’d run into his bedroom and lock the door, hoping she wouldn’t follow.

She always did.

It was when she started to pound on his door, begging him to come out, that he’d begin to sob, shaking in fright.

He’d pray and pray to his dad in desperate tears, asking and asking him to bless his mom, to free her from this curse and to make her better again. It didn’t ever stop.

She’d still make cookies, sometimes, but she’d forget about them and leave them in for so long they’d always be burnt to cinders. She’d serve Kool-Aid too, but he’d grown out of it.

Eventually, he couldn’t stand it anymore. His mom wasn’t getting better, but worse. Her fits were getting more frequent, and Luke’s dad wasn’t doing anything to help him.

Luke couldn’t stay here a second longer.

“I love you, mum,” he whispered to her curled figure on the couch, a full backpack on his shoulder and all his childhood allowance in his pockets as he softly closed the door.

He knew they’d be better off without each other.

Three.

Luke was fourteen when he said that phrase for the third time.

He’d finally found his family.

Sure, it hurt to think of his mother, all alone in his old house, but he had two amazing, brave and funny sisters to make up for that.

Until he didn’t.

It was all such a blur.

One second, they’d just been meeting some satyr by the name of Grover, who claimed to be their protector, a safeguard back to a camp for kids like them.

They’d been on the journey, he, Thalia, Annabeth, wondering what it would be like when they got there, what would happen.

And then the cyclops had struck.

It had all gone too quickly from there. They’d been running madly, tripping through the forest scrub, their hearts pumping, their adrenaline pulsing, Grover yelling that the entrance to camp wasn’t far, that they’d be safe there and to keep going.

The cyclops was still gaining on them, and Luke was starting to feel an awful sense of dread.

Then Thalia - brave, amazing, stupid Thalia - had volunteered to fight the monster. She’d told them to run ahead, that she had the sucker and would be right behind them.

And Luke was scared and thinking of Annabeth and safety, and he agreed, he kept running.

He left her.

His sister.

He swore he blinked once, and then she was dying, crumpled on the dirt, bleeding out and groaning in pain, camp only an ironic few metres away.

None of them even had time to reach out a hand to help her before she turned golden, vanished into a great big pine tree.

Gone forever before he could say goodbye.

“I love you, Thalia,” he whispered that night, not caring that he was breaking curfew rules, getting too close to the dangerous outskirts of camp.

Not caring he was using present tense. He refused to say ‘loved.’

Because he would love Thalia forever.

Four

Luke was sixteen the fourth time he uttered those words.

After all his life he was finally at home.

He’d grown accustomed and comfortable with camp, accepting it as his home. Even though sometimes it was weird to be at a summer camp all year round, he found happiness in his new place, trying to forget about the bad things. Thalia. His mother.

He’d found peace in routine, and confidence. Chiron said he was becoming what would be the best swordsman Camp Half-Blood had seen in 300 years.

There were his friends and siblings. He had Chris and the Stolls, and all the other Hermes kids that made his cabin rowdy and feel homelike.

Then there was y/n, probably his best friend, an Apollo girl who’d healed him immediately after he got to camp and had been there for him since.

There were heaps of activities to keep him busy. Training. Capture the flag. Parties, when he was old enough.

It had been the second of one of the post-curfew parties Luke had been to, and he admitted he had drank too much. Far too much.

Things had got out of hand when an Ares boy had insulted you, someone who was lovely to everyone. He couldn’t really even remember what the boy had said, only that it enraged him and he’d only seen red after that.

It all sort of went downhill from there. He’d thrown a punch, received one, and the rest was a sweaty and jagged dance of thrown limbs.

And now he was here, replaying the events in his mind, sat on the bathroom floor of the Apollo cabin, you kneeling over him with a warm cloth. His fists clenched at the thought of that stupid boy again.

“Luke,” you whispered, and the thoughts disappeared. “Look at me so I can fix you up.”

He didn’t have to be asked twice. It gave him an excuse to openly stare at you. In this dim light, you were gorgeous. Your skin seemed to glow golden from within, which mirrored the bright warmth of your eyes, and the radiance of your hair that framed your face. It was bittersweet, making him happy yet sick with longing, especially in his drunken state, to think of how you weren’t his. I want you, he wanted to whisper. He nearly did.

“Thank you. You’re so good.” He said instead.

“I don’t know about that, but always. That’s what best friends are for,” you reassured, smiling.

His heart sank. He didn’t want you like a best friend. He wanted you to want him like he wanted you.

“Yeah,” he said offhandedly.

There was a long pause. Your touch was soft on the cuts all over him, and although it stung, it was worth it. It was finished all too soon except-

“I’m still hurt,” he tried to explain, but the words wouldn’t form, “like, my chest.”

“He got you there too? Through your shirt?”

“Yeah. Little sucker had a pocketknife and everything.”

“Ok,” you replied. The room stayed silent. Suddenly, he was confused.

“Um-“

“Yeah, sorry, I just zoned out, um-“

Your hands reached for him almost… shyly. Could it be possible that you were overthinking seeing him like this, flustered, also thinking about him like he was about you? It drew a grin to his face. He decided to play with you.

“You don’t have to treat me that delicately. I promise it doesn’t hurt that much.”

You gave a nervous laugh, your hands moving slightly faster as he lifted his arms.

And then it was time to gauge your reaction. Your eyes were certainly not on him, but his chest, and it almost seemed your cheeks had transitioned from golden to rosy. His grin turned into a smirk.

“I gather that stare is either in reaction to my amazing abs or really bad cut. Either way, take it all in,” he teased. It occurred to him later he would never have said anything remotely like this if he was sober.

“Haha, Castellan,” you said sarcastically, rolling your eyes and continuing your job. But you were smiling.

Your features were even softer closer up. It took his breath away, and he couldn’t help the words that next escaped from the confines of his heart.

“I love you,” he whispered.

You froze, midway through finishing dabbing a cut. Your eyes looked up at his, his earnest, vulnerable irises. And then you looked down at his lips. And dropping the cloth, you took his face into your hands and kissed him. It was the most exhilarating, fantastic five seconds of his life. And then you pulled away, stepping back.

“There you go. That’s probably all you wanted, since you’re drunk. You’re-you’re healed now.” You stuttered out.

And he wanted to chase you, have another kiss, try to create a proper response to that, to why he loved you, but you’d ran away from him, and he didn’t want to be snooping through someone else’s cabin, even in his state.

He was left reeling in the moonlight, stumbling back to his cabin before the harpies found him. Once he was between the sheets, his mind muddled, he found it easy to fall asleep, the image and feel of you still in his mind.

He woke up the next day, baffled that his mind could come up with a dream so lifelike. Even mad that maybe a Hypnos kid has taken note of his crush and decided to create a dream like that as a prank. What assholes.

Because you would never kiss someone like him, he knew that.

Like ever.

Five

Luke was seventeen the fifth time he said that statement.

He hadn’t known things could get so much worse.

His father, finally acknowledging him after his claiming, had sent him on a quest. Sure, it was a reused quest from Heracles, but Luke knew just how glorified and contested quests were, and so he accepted happily, choosing two of the older and more experienced campers to assist him in retrieving the golden apples from the dragon.

You were a bit offended that he hadn’t chose you, and he had no explanation that he could offer you, save for a confession. It made for a parting laced with bitterness.

The quest started off fine, and they got to their destination smoothly, but it quickly went downhill from there.

Once they were in the garden, almost immediately the dragon was alerted of their presence. It began to attack, using quick, violent manoeuvres that were hard to keep up with for even the most experienced.

Too hard for one of his quest mates, who became food for the monster’s jaws. It was a sickening, gruesome sight that Luke could never wipe from his mind.

The other quest mate became injured soon after that, and then it was Luke on his own.

At that point, even he knew the quest was lost. He was just defending himself and trying to get out alive. And so he did, with a painful scar from eye to chin as a marking of his forever defeat against the dragon.

He returned as a failure.

He was wounded, with a permanent and ugly physical memory, one of his quest mates was dead, the other also mortally wounded, and their fingers hadn’t even grazed the golden flesh of the apples. He couldn’t even finish an already done quest.

Worse was the pity.

The moment he stepped past Thalia’s tree and into camp, all he received was pity. Quiet voices, soft glances, stopped conversations, permits, excuses.

It was as if he were the dragon, and they were afraid that if they did not tread lightly he may begin roaring flames at them.

He never did.

Just like y/n never treated him with pity.

Your eyes were objective, calculating as they surveyed his wounds. Of course your words were soft, but they always were, with your perfect bedside manner. In those moments where you treated him normally, he couldn’t appreciate you more.

Worst of all probably were the nightmares. He had one awful recurring one: he’d be back in that hellish garden, the dying screams of his dead quest mate and the roaring of the dragon in his ears, the adrenaline and chase all through him, and then every camper he’d ever known would appear, surround him and shake their heads, looking at him in pity and knowing he was a failure. They would chant it, and pelt burning rocks at him, and he would run, run, run, but he could never escape it.

He couldn’t bear it one hot late July night, and slipped away under the stars. He was always calmer there, where he could put himself and his feelings into perspective.

And that’s where y/n had found him, sitting on the dew-soaked grass with his knees loosely curled to his chest.

You didn’t say anything in the beginning, just sat there beside him, breathing, stargazing too.

“I’ve seen you come out here, every night this week.” You stated, finally looking over at him. “Are the nightmares that bad?”

He nodded, gulping down the fear and tears that submerged at the thought.

“You should’ve come to me, you know we have dreamless tonic at the infirmary-“

“Yeah I know. But I deserve it, don’t I?” He asked bitterly, turning to you, “I failed and so I get to live with the consequences. The nightmares.”

“No. No, of course not. You don’t have to face consequences-“

“But I do already, don’t I? I feel like I’m not even the same at all, like I’ll never be the same again. I’ve got this stupid, disgusting scar,” he spat, jabbing at his face, “as this reminder and I’ve got to live knowing I wasn’t ever good enough to succeed and my failure led to someone’s death.”

There was silence for a while, where you gazed at him, at his eyes.

“Stop blaming yourself,” you said softly, “I won’t let you.”

“I can’t help it though,” he whispered, voice cracking, “after training for so long and everyone telling me I’m the best swordsman, I couldn’t save someone, could barely defend myself. And now they’re dead, because of me. And every time I try and forget it- I look in the mirror and see this-this scar and-“

You scooted closer, and one of your hands laid over his.

“Your scar isn’t a symbol of failure. It should never be. It means you’re brave, that you survived that dragon-“ you reached for his face, and so, so gently began to run your index finger down his scar, “-that you’ve overcome all that horror and emerged stronger.”

You cupped his cheek after you finished tracing. His heart was racing.

“And you’re still the same to me. You’re still smart, funny, brave, handsome, strong. You’re still you. Don’t let anyone take that away.”

Your hand slowly drew away from his face, but he caught it, keeping you there.

And he stared.

Stared at this beautiful, golden girl who was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He could only think of three words.

“I love you,” he whispered to you, and he slowly leaned in.

You kissed, his hands in your silky hair and yours on his strong back, and this was the most effective healing Luke had ever had.

He knew at this moment that the best he would ever be was with you.

And that would be always, he hoped.

Six.

Luke was nineteen the next time he spoke from his heart.

Things were finally getting better, but they had a long way to go. Luke would be there to see the good change come through.

Camp was normal. Demigods died, demigods lived. They got claimed, their parents ignored them for months or years. They would train for quests, row, sing at camp fires. He would teach sword classes, rowing, and in his spare time he and y/n would go to their secret spot at the lake and…. Spend some time together in private.

Flustered and a little ruffled they would return to have dinner, stargaze, play wild games of Capture the Flag.

Luke was happy enough. But he didn’t know how long this would last, this calm joy.

He couldn’t live like this, waiting in fear for the other shoe to drop with no help from his dad and the other gods.

He’d made his decisions, laid his plans, and now he waited. Waited.

Tangled in your arms, he traced shapes on your hands as you played with his hair. It was a warm environment, like the home he never had.

The nightmares never really left Luke. Well, unless you were with him.

It was many a night, after curfew, when snores were in the air that he would sneak into your cabin and join you (There were too many people in Hermes cabin for the alternative to ever happen).

And there in your bed he would stay. Sometimes you would talk. Sometimes you would make out. And sometimes you would have quiet times like this, all of each other intertwined as you were lost in comforting thoughts.

Well, you were.

Luke was lost in guilt and impossible choices. He never wanted to leave you, be apart from you. He didn’t know how he’d live without seeing you, hearing your voice. And he hated to leave you like this. But he knew you would never join him. Apollo hadn’t been great, but he hadn’t been terrible and he knew his plans would scare you. He wanted the best for half bloods. This was the only way he could think of. When he came back, surely you would understand.

“You’re so quiet,” you mumbled, from your place under his chin. “What’s wrong?”

“You know what I was thinking about?” And he made up some deep philosophical thought that the two of you quietly discussed and argued about for the next little while, the conversation drifting to other topics before you got drowsy.

“Good night,” you murmured, lifting your face to kiss his nose, scar and lips softly. You returned your head to its place, your warm lips in a smile against his neck, “see you in the morning.”

His stomach plunged, and he felt sick with guilt. He reached over for you, drawing you in for a long, passionate kiss. You, still half asleep, confusedly frowned, but settled back into him with a grin on your face. It was a goodbye, but you didn’t know that.

“I love you,” he breathed, while you fell asleep, and he swore he saw your lips turn upwards. You succumbed to sleep quickly, and it made it simple to softly slip away, escape from you.

As he passed Thalia’s tree, he turned back to look at the cabins, your cabin.

He’d run away once from a home, and it had hurt him. But it had been worth it in the end, and he didn’t regret it.

It hurt running away from this home. Was it worth leaving if it tore his heart into two? He supposed only time would tell. Fitting, giving who his new master was.

——————

And that was the last time Luke ever said I love you.

Well, there was once more.

——————————

Seven.

He didn’t know how old he was when he said that small sentence for the final time.

All he knew was he obeyed Kronos and that the gods had to be slain.

The city at least was familiar. A deep, small part of him felt almost… scared and upset that this city was being damaged.

Oh, and the people. There was a boy he hated, who was powerful and threatening. And a girl with him, who he should hate but he seemed to, well, not.

It had all unfolded so suddenly, the defeat, and suddenly he remembered bits and pieces.

He’d betrayed camp half blood, the only home that he had known, but only so the gods would pay attention to them, be better parents. But what he was doing now wasn’t what he had wanted. Not at all.

He supposed it was an easy decision to make when the boy - ….. Percy - told him to stab himself in the armpit.

He did and finally, in the deadly silence, he was himself again. He was Luke Castellan. A demigod, a child of Hermes. A lot of other things.

For a moment all he could see was the blonde girl whose name he couldn’t remember, that stared at him as he began to writhe in pain. The same blonde girl he couldn’t seem to hate, who he seemed to be soft for.

A lot of other faces stared too, who seemed to be familiar to him but he couldn’t place.

And then there was screaming. Loud, pained screams and running footsteps and a panic rose inside of him. He knew that scream, although he’d rarely heard it.

And there was you, y/n. A face and voice he instantly knew, that he would remember half-dead, which ironically reflected the place he was in now.

You were as beautiful as he remembered, even now, your face contorted, grimy, tears streaming, your hair a sweaty mess.

“No, I can heal him, I can heal him.” You sobbed, kneeling beside him and trying to staunch the bleeding which he could oddly not feel.

He hated seeing you like this. So sad, hurt, in pain. Knowing there was nothing he could do to improve it made it even worse.

He reached for your hand, squeezing it and attempting a weak smile. “I’m sorry,” he croaked, “I’m sorry for everything I ever did to you, because you never deserved it. And-“ he coughed, dust in his lungs.

“I love you.” He said, loud and clear for the world to hear. He wanted to say more, but his chest was weak.

It was only them for that moment. You dove in and kissed him, just as passionately as he had that final night. It took his breath away, and he found himself grinning, joyous, at peace.

It was a goodbye, but he didn’t know that.

#luke castellan #pjo #pjo series #luke castellan x reader #pjo show luke #luke castellan x you #pjo spoilers #percy jackson series #pjo tv show #pjo series luke #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan fic #luke castellan angst #luke castellan oneshot #luke castellan imagine #you're welcome #I hurt myself writing this #i may release some more oneshots who knows #requests open

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ghostreblogging · 8 months

Text

Damian stands before the corpse of his brother.

Is it a corpse? He doesn't know.

They had come to this lonely stretch of land that was once called amity park because something something. Damian hadn't really cared. It was supposed to be a simple get in and get out situation . They were already much busier with their own cases .

Eerie ruined houses and buildings seemed to paint a rather depressing picture. Because you could feel that people used to live here. Half drunken bottles and stollers were out. Just like if everyone just disappeares while walking. But the rotting flesh In the strollers seemed to suggest that darker things have happened here. The everyday norm seemed to frame the gateway to hell. The green glow was the only thing that was truly out of the ordinary.

Perhaps it's just an opening to another Lazarus pit.

But It doesn't feel like a normal Lazarus pit . Damian would know that better than anyone. It somehow felt brighter. And an electric buzz permeated the air. It felt sickening. The destroyed sign makes somewhat of an archway for the entrance. It says Fen- something something? The letter had long fallen off from the elements

"God, bloody hell. This place just reeks of infinite realms," the laughing magician commented before pulling another cigarette from his pocket.

"Infinite realms?" Father grunted

"Don't get your panties twisted. There's a reason I didn't tell you about them, the more you know the harder they are to deal with"

There were more mindless chatter between his family. But Damian ignored that in favor of staring down the archway . It felt like a cold shiver on his back and a horrible burning sensation on the palm of his right hand. Weird.

Damian knew that what awaited him was death. He didn't know whose though.

"Do you feel that?" Damian asked before he could stop himself

Grayson turned to look at him, raising his eyebrow. "Babybat, what? What feeling?"

Damian knew he already walked into communication.

"The cold shiver, and the burning sensation on your right palm"

"Ha! Just sounds like your scared demon brat"

"Forget it"

And they promptly walked into hell.

Damian I've missed you so much! But it's dangerous here. You'll get caught by him

Inside Damian felt as if he was walking for years. All with that , horrible disgusting smell. Burnt flesh and plastic. So overwhelming that his eyes stung even through his mask. He had to wake with his eyes half closed. Stumbling his way through the uneven terrain.

Winding corridors made out of crushed rubble.

Damian , be careful there is sharp glass there

Eerie glow that never seems to get closer.

Damian? I really don't like the Lazarus pits

It was dark and an encompassing ceiling above him felt like spiderwebs, a trap. But beyond that you could see the sky.

Hey Damian? Let's go stargazing again!

Hey Damian please don't go further

Something kept bothering him but he didn't know what. But he kept on walking.

And eventually they found themselves in a big chamber. Lazarus pit waters filled the caver like a lake. Beautiful flowers that seemed misplaced grow up to the sky.

The sky.

Maybe that was the source of the discomfort?. They came in at dawn.

It shouldn't have been dark .

And the stars were wrong. How long did they walk for?

Long enough. Just go please

There was a huge rift. Beyond were Lazarus green lands with floating landscapes. Sometimes you could see something big float by . Damian wonders if they were living or just a part of the landscape.

Beautifully enchanting. Like freedom, feeling of wind on your ski-

And then Damian's eyes fell on the thing. How could he have not noticed that.

Please get away that is not me that is not me that is not me that is not me

Like some kind of a lost puppet it was hung in front of the rift. That was the source of the smell. A white suit that once had been sterile, burnt and fused with the flesh below. Dark burnt hair that hung and thankfully concealed the empty eyes.

For once Damian was thankful he couldn't see something. He just felt that if he saw the thing's eyes, he would never recover.

Because that face.

He knew that face

It was one of he had forgotten a long time ago.

Damian please that is not me plEase. I aM LOSiNg my SeLF

A brother that went missing during a mission.

"God what the fuck is that" Grayson's voice broke Damian's trance.

Damian frowned. It didn't feel appropriate to talk here.

Hide. Hide hide hide hide

A voice broke the silence soon after.

"I advise you to leave immediately" a familiar voice. From the oh so familiar corpse . It grated against his ears. And the corpse moved in tandem. Exaggerated and cartoonish but in a horrid way like a machine struggling to run in their later years. It felt like it was coming from everywhere at once.

Hey Damian let's not go here

Damian it's not a good idea to be here take you family and leave

Damian, let's go another route

I can barely maintain luciedicy please listen to me

"I advice you to leave immediately" just like clockwork. The exact same tone, the exact same horrid little dance.

"Well we can't. Well we can't before we know why In the everliving earth there is a direct portal to the infinite realms here." Constantine seemed to have nonchalance as he spoke but Damian saw his cold sweat. And eyes darting , trying to look anywhere but directly at it .

The corpse directly ignored Constantine. It turned to him . Each movement sharp and gutted.

"Damian we are finally together again :) "

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dp x dc #danny phantom au #is this done yet?#dc x dp #dp x dc prompt #dpxdc #dc x dp prompt #huh #a moment of inspiration led me to this #i wanted to draw but i couldnt rwnder the picture in my head out so ehhh #i dont even know what is happening here #but twin dami and danny #uhhhh so loike danny instead of getting super powers while dying #gets turned into an eldritch monster instead like the other kids #so like timeline here #danny dami as kids in the league -> danny goes on mission -> gets adopted as a fenton -> the portal incident -> instead of turning into #a cool hero he becomes a monster -> at first because he and everyone thought he was just a meta he was just the normal phantom shit -> then #realized he was dead -> everyone realized these werent the normal ghost themed metas -> bcuz they revealed to be ghosts more of the hidden #FORBIDDEN KNOWLEDGE is seen by the people #like in this au i was foliwing that one au where the infinite realms is actually the primodial chaos #so there ought to be like consequences to knowing that shit #danny splinters into two parts #one montstrous and manipulative part and one kind and protective part #danny tries to protect everyone from himself but oh shit everyone is insane arleady!#leading most people to do the oneway trick to the otherside with just a rope #danny wants to leave but like there is a demon there like he cant leave it or itll be able to leave

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 4 months

Text

Eddie Munson's second chance

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 14

Prompt: Angst with a happy ending

Rated: G

CW: referenced child neglect/abuse

Tags: Modern AU, Royalty AU, Royal Steve Harrington, Rockstar Eddie Munson

Notes: Continued from day 11. This was angstier in my head, but Eddie is a silly goose.

Eddie Munson is no stranger to fucking up. He's long accepted that. It's just a thing that happens.

Sometimes, you'll miscalculate a stage dive and have to cancel the rest of the tour.

Sometimes, you'll get so caught up in your stupid rockstar stuff, you'll forget about the youth center you founded to give other kids a better childhood.

Sometimes, you'll meet an adorable guy named Dustin at said youth center, and rant about how useless the monarchy is, only to find out that Dustin isn't Dustin at all, but Crown Prince Steven Harrington, aka the future king, aka owner of the saddest pair of puppy dog eyes that Eddie has ever failed to get out of his goddamn head.

Which brings him to his current predicament, sitting on the edge of his bed, waiting for Chrissy to pick up the phone. She does after the second dial tone, which is pretty impressive for three in the morning.

"We must cancel the royal visit," Eddie blurts before she can ask what's wrong.

"Eds," she yawns. "We've been over this. Just because you can't stand the guy-"

"That's not it," Eddie groans. "Listen … I met him yesterday? Only I didn't know it was him? And I flirted with him and he was really cute but I couldn't keep my fucking mouth shut and now I can't ever see him again because I don't wanna rot in some dungeon, understand?"

"No," she says. Damn, it sounded perfectly logical in his head. "But this doesn't seem like something we should discuss on the phone. Stay put, I'm coming over."

They don't cancel the royal visit, but Eddie refuses to make an appearance. Instead, he watches from behind the curtains of the office window like a creep. The Prince looks dashing in his tailored suit, smiling for the cameras, joking with the kids, listening to Chrissy with polite attention as she shows him around the place. Eddie loves her so fucking much, will be forever grateful that she filled in for him.

Even if she tied it to one condition.

He watches how she whispers something into the Prince's ear, how his smile melts into an angry frown. How they both turn to stare at the window. Eddie flinches away from the curtains, heart in his throat.

He wonders if the dungeons have WiFi.

"You have exactly ten minutes," says the bodyguard. It’s the same one from yesterday, the one called Hop. Eddie doesn’t reply, just nods stiffly. Hop looks at him like he's contemplating murder, but then he ducks out of the room with a muttered all clear.

Prince Steven steps in. The door clicks shut. Silence descends.

"Well," Eddie finally mumbles. "I guess this is the part where I bow and grovel."

The Prince snorts. "Please don't, Mr Munson. I'd rather you save us both the embarrassment."

Eddie winces, because ouch. That stings more than it should.

Neither of them says anything for a long while. The clock on the wall keeps ticking.

"So," Eddie rocks awkwardly on the soles of his combat boots. "Who's Dustin?"

Those plush lips twitch into a smile and those pretty eyes light up. For a moment, Eddie glimpses the boy from yesterday.

"My housekeeper's kid. He'd be so mad if he knew I met you and didn't get him an autograph."

He says it with genuine concern, like he's honestly afraid of getting shit from a little kid, and Eddie can't help but grin.

"Don't worry, I won't tell."

This gets him a huffed laugh.

"He'd love this place, it's really cool."

When Eddie looks up, the Prince is looking at the picture frames on the walls, photos of smiling kids and drawings in crayon and watercolors. Eddie sighs and joins him, stares long and hard of a picture of Max on her skateboard.

"Thanks. I, um … grew up around here, and I wanted to give these kids a safe space. Where they can just … be children. I never really had that myself."

A thoughtful hum. Those hazel eyes are soft with an expression that looks weirdly like longing. Eddie remembers watching stories about the royal family on his uncle's rickety TV set. A solemn-faced boy his own age trailing behind his parents outside of private jets, in lush parks and gilded halls. Always in expensive suits. Always well-behaved. Always way too grown-up.

Well, shit.

"Listen, your highness …"

"Steve is fine."

"Listen, Steve …" Eddie lets the name linger on his tongue, finds that he likes the feel of it. "I guess I've been a bit of a dick."

A hint of that bitchy little smile. "You guess correctly."

"Whatever," Eddie huffs. "I'm trying to apologize here, so may I? Or are you throwing me in the dungeons?"

"The …" Steve blinks. Then, his mouth starts to curl. "We, um … don't actually do that anymore. Unless you're into that, then I'm sure it could be arranged."

Eddie sputters and Steve bites back a laugh.

"If you really wanna make up for it," he then says. "I hear your concert next week is all sold out? Dustin would love backstage tickets."

Eddie frowns.

"Dustin as in the kid or …"

"Steve?" Hop cracks the door open. "Time to go, c'mon."

Steve smiles, bright and sunshiny. "On my way."

He turns to Eddie, grabs a pen and a notepad from the chaos on the desk.

"Backstage tickets, two of them. I'll be expecting them by tomorrow."

When Chrissy bustles in not five minutes later, she finds Eddie in the office chair, staring morosely at the still drawn curtains.

"Eds? Everything okay?" Eddie just groans and hides his head in his hands, so she crouches down in front of him, hands on his knees. "He didn't give you shit, did he?"

"Shit? I wish. No, it's far worse than that." Eddie cackles hysterically and unclenches his fist, presenting a crumpled piece of notebook paper. "He gave me his number."

Part 3

All my holiday drabbles

#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddie holiday drabbles #hype's holiday drabbles

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xqueen-of-disasterx · 3 months

Text

Playing Dangerously

Paring: fem!reader × Natasha x Bucky

Warnings: SMUT, threesome, Dom!Nat, SwitchBucky, sub!reader, mommy kink, daddy kink, dumbification, oral, teasing, slight alcohol consumption, fingering, pet names,

A/N: I’m not really a shipper of this but friends with benefits Winterwidow is so hot. @syndote this one is for you.

!Disclaimer English is not my first language so please excuse any grammar or spelling errors. This story is completely fictional!

Masterlist

Don't get me wrong being with THE black widow was something many could only ever dream about but I had to admit that sometimes I felt like I never really got the chance to try different things. From the Red Room to S.H.I.E.L.D and directly into the red heads arms left little to no space for explorations of my sexuality. Sex with Nat was great and always left me satisfied but I couldn't help to wonder about the forbidden fruit, but mentioning this to Nat could lead to a hefty argument which I didn't want to risk; after all she was all a girl like me could want right?

"Bucky will join us for the mission" I turned away from the laptop screen I was watching an episode of modern family on (after spending so much time in russia I was dying to know what the American dream was like), I hadn't heard Natasha approach, spy I had to remind myself. "I thought this was gonna be a me and you thing" She chuckled leaning over the chair, swiping my hair over my shoulder, and letting her precisely painted lips meet the soft skin of my neck. "You know I only ever have eyes for you my little bunny"

I hummed as her sweetened words hit my ears, and made tingles run down my spine "I know Tasha" I sighed standing up but making the fatal mistake of leaving my laptop open. "I'll just be on the toilet alright?" Natasha hummed deciding to press play again as suddenly there popped up a message from I was way.

Katja: You should really try to communicate this with your girlfriend before this ruins your relationship.

Natasha couldn't believe her eyes but curiosity got the better of her and she opens the message; I had told her all about how I waned to experience sexual things with a man but how unwilling I was to cheat on her. She quickly closed the tab again pretending like she didn't have her master plan planned out already.

The mission was easy inflate a party, steal some hard drive and go back to the hotel. Even though you were there with your girlfriend the thoughts of trying it out with a man couldn't leave your head. Not that I was interested in having an affair of leaving Nat you just wanted her to have this with you. And the fact that out of all people Bucky had been assigned to you two didn’t make it better. I had long expected the two to had have something going on in the past but never had the courage to ask either. The mission went by quick and you soon found yourself sitting at a hotel bar celebrating our success mission.

***

"I'll have a martin" "A beer for me" The bartender looked at me with expecting eyes "A beer for me too." Sitting between the two I almost felt sandwiched even though there was still space between our bodies. Natasha slipped quietly on her martin while my bottle was still untouched by me I couldn't tear my mind away from the two assassins next to me. "You're awfully quiet Y/N" I heard the deep voice of the Winter Soldier. I opened my mouth before closing it again there were so many words in my heart but so little on my tongue. “You’re normally so filled with life”

I felt Natasha's watchful eyes on my smaller form and suddenly I felt awfully naked in my cocktail dress. "James" her voice was sweet like honey. "Do you remember the last time we were sitting here?" I could practically hear the smirk in her voice "How could I forget that night" He took another slip of his beer bottle. "Are you down for a second time with our little guest" I couldn’t believe my ears was this a lucky guess or did Nat suddenly become a mind reader. I looked down peeling away at the label of the bottle as my cheeks continued to heat up. "I see" he took another close look at me, seizing me up. "I'm down if she is" There were a few seconds of silence with two awaiting eyes in my form; if I wanted to try this now would be the time "Of course" I stated in a quiet voice as I met his lust filled gaze, he only nodded before finishing his bottle. "I'll be in my room"

***

"Strip and lay on the bed" I could hear Natasha's cold words as she went to open to open the door letting Bucky, in his blazer and tie missing, the first few buttons of his white shirt unbuttoned revealing some of his chest hair. Just as he kicked the door closed behind him Nat had him already pressed against the wall as they violently made out with each other. Her hands twisted in his white button up shirt pulling herself impossibly closer to the man. The way Natasha was still containing control of the much stronger man was definitely a turn on. (Not that I had expected it any other way)

Even though she was busy with him from the corner of her eyes I could see she watched me on very move. She turned away from him sitting down on the cushion of armchair. "James I want you to eat her out" she pulled out a small metal tin with cigarettes in it, lighting herself one "and don't let her cum" He only nodded having seemingly submitted to the redhead without a fight.

He climbed onto my much smaller frame, his eyes scanning my naked form. There was something about the both of them still fully clothed while I was undressed which made me even wetter. He leaned down to catch my lips and my hands went to his short black hair. His tongue fought it's way inside my mouth our tongues dancing a dangerous dance as one of his rough hands went to my breast. He kissed down my neck his beard stubbles irritating my soft skin.

His chipped lips wrap around one of my nipples and the strong fingers twisted the other. He watched in an awe how my body squirmed under his touch. "Mommy please" I whined out buckling I hips against his hard prick "No sweetie this ain't gonna work" She chuckles blowing out some smoke from her lit cigarette. "Beg Daddy not me, I can't help you little girl" I chocked out another whine as I felt his teeth tugging at my nipple.

The way his mouth wrapped around my tender flesh made want him even more. He liked over my nipple a few more times each time discovering a new sound escaping from my mouth. Eventually he got bold enough to bit down making me cry out in pure lust. “Daddy please” I didn’t know what I was begging for but the pure title made him moan. He switched sides giving my other nipple the same treatment as his fingers brush over the other one.

He kissed his way down your stomach stopping your hips from buckling as her presses his forearm down on your lower stomach. He kissed your public bone taking in the strong smell of my cunt as he groaned. He took his time kissing and nibbling on the soft skin of my hips. My hands go to his short black hair folding with his soft hair (which somehow was even softer than Nats)

After a while he was done with the teasing having had enough and he just wanted to finally get a taste of Nat’s little girl. He took a bold lick over my cunt moaning inside of my heat as I tried to buckle my hips again but you were stopped by his cold metal arm keeping your hips down.

"Daddy please" I whined, having so much control over a sexual partner did something to him. "No more teasing please" I begged. Natasha (who had been watching closely from the corner) made her way over the the bed puffing out a load of smoke "Be a good boy James" He was seemingly torn between the dominance of having me under him begging for his mercy out still being so obedient to the black widow. It was a match made in heaven or in hell so to say.

He continued to eat me like the last supper his tongue pressing on the pulsing nub of nerves. Two of his thick fingers pushed passed my tight hole making my eyes roll into the back of my head in pure pleasure, he bit down on my clit sending shock waves through my body. His fingers twisted and turned to to press against my G- spot. I was so close to stumbling of the edge I got a taste of heaven.

"James stop" I heard her cold voice as he immediately pulled way sitting on his knees and my juices dripping from the concert of his mouth. I whined and cried ash the lost of pleasure my tears smudging down my pink cheeks. "Good boy James" She leaned down to kiss him moaning as she tasted my juices on his lips. She pulled away from him whipping the corners of his mouth with her palm. "Would you look at that you made a mess Ana" She inspected your dripping cunt further running two finger through your cunt making you let out a pathetic whimper. She tasted me letting out an extensive moan "I'm almost jealous James got to taste you bunny"

She whispered something in Bucky's ear and he quietly nods. "Get on all fours Y/N" he rasped in your ear. You placed yourself on all fours and he positioned himself behind you and you heard the sound of this clothes being torn off. "Are you ready" I nodded, my position was beyond embarrassing ass up in the air having gabbed a pillow to bite on.

He pulled down his shorts and let Natasha touch him how she pleased. Her smaller hands wrapped around his pulsing prick I heard him groan as her hands moved up and down his length. Her movements made him impossibly hard a few droplets of pre cum already leaking.

Bucky positioned himself behind me and he slowly pushed his length in making me scream out at the stretch. He let you adjust before moving at a decent pace I took a look behind me to see Nat guiding his hips only not giving him control of his own pleasure. I lead out a few mewls of pure pleasure. "mommy" my whimpered gripping onto the pillow for dear life "need you”

She let go of his hips leaning up to my ear "Do you need your clit played with" she rubbed circles on my back. Bucky's pace was great for his pleasure but I just needed more so I nodded as more tears made it's way down my cheeks "Can't even cum without mommy's help such a dumb little girl.”

Bucky quickend his pace and so did Nat and I was nearly seeing stars "Cum for me" she announced slapping Bucky's ass as if he was nothing more that a common whore "both". It didn't need more to make both of us cum with im pulling out to paint my back in his milk.

I flipped to my back watching as Natasha and Bucky were caught up in a passionate kiss. His kisses trailed down her neck and chest at the same time pulling her red lace panties down her perfectly shaped legs. He nibbled on her skin paying extra attention to the small scar on her hip.

Natasha laid next to me on her back as I turned to my side stroking a few of her red hair, which were stuck to her sweaty forehead. “Kiss mommy bunny”

I kissed the desperate woman our tongue intertwined. She broke away letting out an almost pornographic moan as Bucky dove in to her wet center.

Our foreheads were seemingly stuck together as were lost in, probably the hottest, make out session I ever had. The air was humid filled with the sounds of Natasha’s wetness and the indecent sounds of our desperate sounds. “Fuck James” she groaned on my lips her hands twisted in my dark blonde locks. “Make Mommy cum” He kept his pace up flickering her clit with his tongue while penetrating her with two of his fingers. With a scream she came down from her high releasing over his chin and face.

***

"Thank you" You signed laying between the older Agents "But I think I'll stay with women for now" Natasha chuckled kissing your forehead "I wouldn't have given you free either way" she joked "And I wouldn't risk talking Nat's girl"

Tags:

@terrormonster55 @marvelobsessed134 @crowswolffe

#natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x female reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #bucky smut #winterwidow #natasha romanoff blurb #natasha x bucky #Natasha Romanoff x Bucky x reader

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manicrouge · 3 months

Text

Christmas Comfort

[ꜱɪᴍᴏɴ ʀɪʟᴇʏ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

[ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ᴘᴏꜱᴛᴇᴅ]: 25/12/23 (REPOSTED: 09/02/24)

[ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ]: After Johnny's death and a failed mission, Simon returns home to his girlfriend.

[ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ]: 3.3k

[ᴛᴡ]: hurt/comfort, angst, a somewhat happy ending (it will never be fully happy without soap I am sorry) possible mw3 spoilers (if you have been living under a rock please avoid)

[ᴀ/ɴ]: THIS IS A REPOST !! I've had few issues with shadowbans and have moved accounts a few times (tumblr thought I was a bot). I want all of my stories to be on the same blog so I apologise for the repost.

ANYWAY !! ENJOY !!

Christmas this year is going to be tough.

You know it from when you open the door to him on Christmas Eve.

Time has passed, he hasn’t been home for months and you were starting to convince yourself that it’s going to be years before you ever see him again.

When you were talking on the phone earlier, sometime during the middle of November, he had made a comment that he wasn’t going to come back home until he had made sure he had the pleasure of declaring that the enemy that had murdered his best friend was officially gone for good. While your chest tightened at his comment, you had nodded along and assured him that they would catch Makarov eventually; there were only so many places one man could hide before he’d revert back to familiar ground.

You feared the same for Simon at that moment. In fact, even with him home safe, you still do.

Of course, you would never say that to his face.

Despite his capability in combat, however, you often find yourself awake at night wondering just how capable he was when it came to processing and dealing with loss. Had he done what you assume he has done, he was most likely going to run from it instead of addressing it. Problems will build up and up until they came tumbling down. It’s a simple thought to construct during the late nights you have been spending alone since the news of what had happened to Johnny had found its way to you. Just as such a thought is easy to construct, you find that another one comes to you quicker than the former: where would Simon be when the building he’d constructed over the years fell to pieces?

There were only so many places he man could hide before he’d refer back to familiar ground. Even if said ground was crumbling around him. Maybe in his misery, he would find solace in falling to his doom with the chunks of shattered earth surrounding him.

If that assessment is wrong, it doesn't matter; your brain has decided it before your heart even gets a say.

You have very little to go off of concerning with how he dealt with loss, the occasional comment about his mum was enough for you to know that he wasn’t the type to completely forget about a loved one.

He's vague about his past. The less said about it the better.

‘You keep pawing an’ clawing at my brain like a damn puppy,’ he said, trailing his hands through your hair. You were guilty, for sure you were. Curiosity was sure to be the death of you in that regard. He’d let small facts slip on occasion, although, you knew his accidental slip ups were most definitely intention.

Of course, Simon Riley was no fool.

’Just tell me something,’ you begged, ‘like… I don’t know, what was your favourite food to eat at Christmas when you were younger? Ooo, I bet it was something like liquorice. You’d so make your nan pissed by robbing all the good shit out of the sweet tin.’ You laughed at the thought of a tiny Simon Riley climbing on top of a chair, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he attempted to snatch the sweet, sweet treat of liquorice.

‘Are you fuckin’ kidding me?’ he scoffed, ‘actin’ like I’m an old man doll,’ he snorted, ‘stop tryin’ to pester me f’r memories you have no business viewing.’

‘Is it illegal to be curious now?’ you asked with a playful smile. It was silent for a moment, and you lifted your head in an attempt to find his eyes in the darkness.

‘Yes, it is,’ he said, ‘you don’t wanna know me from the past, love,’ he huffed, ‘doesn’t matter now.’

‘You won’t even tell me what your favourite food was during Christmas?’

‘No,’ he reverted back to the same Simon you had seen when Johnny had been talking his ear off during the rare nights out you had had with 141. ’Now go t’ sleep, gonna be tired in the morning if you keep rambling on. My ears are burning with ya, doll,’ he teased, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you firmly against his chest.

Despite everything telling you to pull away from him, you maintained your closeness, the warmth of him far too appetising to refuse. Exhaling deeply, you rested your head against the pillow, staring straight at the wall in front of you. Your heart hurt at the very thought that he cared so little about his past that he fought to keep everything from his earlier life away from you. Even the smallest things. Of course, you would never had pried him, only the few passing comments in hopes for him to slip up as he had done a few times before.

Another hard sigh escaped you as you close your eyes. He shifted behind you, resting his head against your shoulder. You thought nothing of his sudden movement; it wasn’t uncommon for him to do so while you were sharing a bed together. Only, he turned his head, his breath ghosting your ear. Inhaling, he swallowed hard. ‘Mum used to make us roast dinners,’ he whispered, ‘used to always slap my hand away whenever she was cooking cause I used to always rob the pigs-in-blankets while she was still getting dinner ready.’

A small laugh passed your lips as you turned in his hold, placing your hand against his cheek with a cheeky grin. He stares back, blue gaze gutting through the darkness, slicing your soul to pieces. ‘Now, will y’ stop huffin’ and puffing and just go to sleep?’ He asked, placing his hand over yours.

‘Soundly, Lt.’

Even behind the mask, you could sense the sadness, the loss. A flurry of emotions hits you when you first see him after what has happened. What can you say to him? Anything other than I’m sorry seems to be an insult to him and to the memory of the man that is sure to haunt him.

The mask hides his face, but it never hid his eyes, his tired and war-weary eyes. It's a brutal sight to see the man who had put the fear of God through you when you had first met reduced to this crushed soul.

‘Simon,’ you say after a while of the pair of you just standing there, staring at each other. For a brief moment, it felt as though you had opened the door to a stranger instead of your boyfriend. Lifting his head, his Adams apple bobs beneath his balaclava as he steps forward. You take a step back, letting go of the edge of the door. Still, he doesn't speak, only standing there, observing you. ‘I thought you said you weren’t coming home until—‘

‘Don’t wanna talk about it,’ he answers, closing the door behind him.

His clothes are branded with the stench of war, and you take note of his bloodshot eyes. Has he been crying? You thought it impossible for such to be the case, he’d do no such thing. But, when he shakily inhales, grabbing the edge of his balaclava, your stomach dropped.

‘Place looks nice,’ he says, though his eyes don't leave you, ripping his mask from off of his face, shoving it into of his cargo pants. His words were shaky despite the stoic expression on his face. ‘You been alright?’

You look at him with wide eyes. ‘I- uh- yeah, yeah, just sorting out last minute things for Christmas,’ you answer, ‘how about you go and get a shower, get changed into some fresh clothes? I’ll make you something to eat—‘

‘Not hungry,’ he answers frankly, ‘appreciate the offer, doll, but I think I’m just gonna go straight to bed,’ he says. All the moisture in your mouth disappears and you’re forced to swallow a dry mouthful of air as you look up at him.

‘Right,’ you nod, ‘I- I’ll be up right after you, just gonna turn everything off down here,’ you say.

He doesn’t answer you after that, dropping his duffle bag down on the ground by the front door as he traipses up the wooden steps of your home. The garland wrapped around the bannister winks at you as you watch Simon walk up the stairs, almost mocking you for ever think it was a good idea to decorate.

The entirety of your house is wrapped like a Christmas present, reds, greens, colourful lights- everything. Whether it was the right thing to decorate or not, you choose not to focus on it too much as you rush around the house, switching off the decorations and the lights, leaving the washing you had been doing on the counter in the kitchen.

All of it can wait. But he can’t.

So, with such a thought in mind, you busy yourself with your plan. What is included in that plan can be decided as you’re walking through the house, back to the staircase you have just seen your poor boyfriend walking up.

Jogging up each step, you decide that ultimately, everything that has happened in the past few months with be something he will not be willing to discuss with you; he made it clear when he walked through the door. Don’t push him on it.

When your foot hits the last step, you nod to yourself as you consider what you would do if he did want to talk to you about it. If he wants to talk to you about it, then you rejoice in his openness. But it isn’t necessary for him to have your undying support. No matter what he decides, ultimately, your heart is never going to fail on him.

Before heading into your bedroom, you gulp when you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. Pulling it out of your pocket, your eyes scan over the message, a shallow exhale escaping your lips.

Mum <3: Can’t wait to see you tomorrow. made sure to grab extra pigs-in-blankets incase Simon decides to appear sometime. Love you xx

Begrudgingly, you stare down at the message before looking at the bedroom door. From beyond it, you can hear the running water in the shower and all you can think about is him. So, with a deep breath, you look back down at your phone and begin to type.

From ‘me’: Slight change of plans but I don’t think we’re going to be able to make it there tomorrow. Simon’s just got home and he’s not good. Don’t think socialising is what he needs right now. Sorry, I love you xx

Choosing has never been easy, yet, when you pushed open the bedroom door and saw his clothes sitting on the bed the pair of you share, you decide that that choice was the easiest one you have ever made in your life. It isn’t a sacrifice when it is necessary. At least, not when it comes to Simon at least.

‘I’m not going home tomorrow,’ you tell him when he walks out of the bathroom. Part of you feels bad for bombarding him with something as soon as he walks out, but the affirming text from your mother causes your heart to swell, and when you see him again, it bursts. His hair is damp and he pulls his face out of the towel with a surprised look. His scarred cheeks are branded with a subtle red tinge from the heat exuding from the bathroom. The heat works well to melt his features just enough for him to mould them into a dissatisfied sneer. ‘I don’t wanna fight you on this, Si.’

‘You can’t cancel on your family,’ he says, approaching his dresser. ‘Not right. I don’t want you to do that for me,’ he continues, grabbing a t-shirt, pulling it over his head. ‘Go spend time with them, am fine here.’

‘I already told my mum,’ you say, ‘she’s fine with it,’ you quickly reassure, far too aware that he very well may be a ticking time bomb.

Oddly, you request of not fighting on it seemingly works as he looks over his shoulder at you. There is simply no fight left in Simon Riley anymore, you conclude it from the way he shrinks as he exhales, padding up to the bed. It was as though he had left the house as a grenade left the hands of a soldier. Upon his return, the body of what made him him: his danger, his determination, and his strength had all been lost and you find he has been reduced to the pin pulled from the grenade.

Looking up at him, you find that it is up to you if you’re going to discard it or keep it as a keepsake.

Pulling the edge of the duvet, you pat the side of the mattress, ‘c’mon,’ you say gently. He doesn’t wait to climb into bed beside you, resting his weary head against the pillow. It’s as though someone is pressing down on his chest as he heaves a sound unlike anything you have ever heard. Exhaustion was clear, but grief was easier to identify in his eyes. Leaning over, you turn the lamp on your beside off, trying your attention to him, lying on his side.

There’s nothing to say. Not to him, not for him, not for yourself. You just lay there and stare at him hoping something will come to you. Anything said will be a bittersweet lullaby, you’re convinced. Nothing is going to put him to sleep. ‘Your minds running; faster than mine, sweetheart,’ he says. His eyes are closed when you look at his face. ‘Don’t want you doin’ stupid things ‘cause of me.’

‘Nothing is stupid when it comes to you, Si’,’ you weakly state.

At this point, you heart is racing, your tongue tangled as you contemplate every single word on the edge of your tongue. ‘Mum said she’ll bring us dinner tomorrow,’ you say with a weak smile, debating on whether or not you should spoil the surprise. ‘We can eat it and watch something… if you want to.’

‘What’s she bringing,’ he asks.

‘A roast,’ you answer, ‘it is Christmas after all.’

He’s quiet for a while, almost as though he doesn’t even want to think about what day it is. December 24th. Christmas Eve. You’re unsure how exactly the holidays work in 141, only noting that he had been away a few times during Christmas. Oddly, this is one of the first ones he’s home with you. His second Christmas since knowing Johnny that he isn’t with him. Your heart weakens at the realisation, your brain cursing you with the knowledge of something so agonising.

They had spent Christmas together.

And now they won’t and never will and it isn’t just because of the distance between Manchester and Scotland.

Rather, it’s because of the distance between this life and the next.

Your eyes well with tears and you close them. Your heart hurts for the man lying in front of you, and when you hear him clear his throat, you find it difficult to contain your own sorrow. ‘Doesn’t feel like Christmas,’ he tells you, his voice trembling as he does. ‘Haven’t slept at all since ‘cause I can’t stop thinking about him just… lyin’ there,’ his throat tightens and his tone grows pitchy as he inhales deeply, swallowing hard. ‘I shoulda done something, I should’ve been there f’r him.’

He’s crying at that point, but not sobbing. In fact, you only know he's crying because, when you place your hand against his cheek and the pad of your thumb wiped away a tear that falls past his eye. ‘You were,’ you choke out, ‘even in death, you were loyal to him, Si’, don’t you dare go cursing your own name for something you were not responsible for,’ you demand. ‘You’ll get him.’

‘We’re fallin’ apart without him,’ Simon sniffles, ‘bet he’s sitting up there pissin’ himself seeing me like this,’ he utters. The pair of you share a laugh at the thought and you move close to him. ‘I just… I told myself after everything that happened to mum and Tommy, I wouldn’t feel anything ‘cause that fucked me up, but then I met Johnny a- and I met you.’

You hold your breath.

‘Simon—‘

‘And what if I can’t keep you safe? I’ve failed at it so much and that fucking pricks got me doubting myself now—‘

‘Shut up,’ you firmly say, ‘I don’t wanna hear it, Si’,’ you utter, ‘and neither would Johnny.’

You press your thumb against his cheek, ‘doubt is a killer, and it’s not me who you’re not gonna be able to protect if you keep thinking the way you are, it’s yourself,’ you continue, licking your dry lips, ‘and… and if you die, then who’s gonna steal the pigs-and-blankets on Christmas Day?’

Whether it was time for humour or not, you’re unsure. But, as you thinking for a moment, you recall the tales told to you by Simon during his time away, particularly his time with the Shadows.

Two goldfish are in a tank…

‘You still remember that?’ he asks eventually. You feel the muscles contort in his face as he smiles at you.

‘Always,’ you respond, ‘mums got them with the dinner tomorrow ‘cause I asked her too… said she got extra incase you planned on robbing any of them.’ You feel bad telling him such information knowing that you had chosen to cancel the holiday. If anything, you’re worried about the guilt you’re causing him by rambling on about the stupid fucking pigs-in-blankets. ‘My point is Si’,’ you take a deep breath, ‘I need you here with me so you can fulfil your duty.’

He shifts and pulls you closer, wrapping his arm around your waist, pressing his face into the nape of your neck. Your hand brushes through his hair, melting in his arms as his hot breath fans against your neck. ‘Wanna see your family tomorrow,’ he says, ‘I’ll go with you.’

‘Are you sure—‘

‘’Ave been stuck in my mind for nearly two months,’ he confesses, pulling away from your neck. ‘Fighting with myself over everything, I’ve hardly spoken to Price or Gaz,' he says. You press your lips together, the thought of him being alone nauseating. ‘Be a waste of money as well if I didn’t try pinching the food your mums made, wouldn’t it?’

You feel him smile as he presses his face back against your neck, his grip on you so tight its almost painful. But you relent, allowing him to have the comfort he so deserves. Resting your head above his, you close your. Whatever awaited you in the future can wait, you conclude.

‘I'm proud of you,’ you whisper, pressing a kiss onto his head. 'Never gonna let you doubt yourself ever again, not on my watch,' you continue, 'now sleep. We can talk more when you're ready.'

He smiles again.

'I know I can sleep soundly now,' he utters against your skin, 'got you beside me.'

With that, the pair of you fall into silence. You don't sleep, not until you feel his breathing steady against you skin, the subtle rise of his chest as he keeps his arms around you. You keep running you fingers through his hair before eventually, you find your eyes growing heavy and you drift off.

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sherwees · 3 months

Note

i need more of manipulative yangyang, just gaslighting u and u falling for absolutely everything he does

I put it as first person at first bcs it helps me write better so if you see an I or my anywhere,pls ignore it.. and tell me.

THIS IS CONNECTED TO THIS

cw: manipulation, forced breeding, the smallest daddy kink (literally mentioned once), rough sex, yangyang has a breeding kink, dumbification, baby trapping, DEGRADATION, dubcon elements.

Your toothbrush laid discarded in the sink, veins sprawled and protruded through your hand gripped on the sink for dear life. Yangyang's thrusts were quick and relentless, chasing his own pleasure as his cock never left within 3 inches of your cervix. You were drooling and murmuring curses and pleas under your breath, going dumb to his advantage and liking; your finger tips turned pale as your mind melted away to pure bliss.

“yang–” you attempted to hiccup but his unyielding hand found your poor scalp. Your teeth clenched, an electric shock sprawled from your scalp to your neck, your walls clenched and unclenched around his rushed thrusts. The ridge of his tip kissed your cervix, pounding and abusing it. There was an illusioning (? forgot the word) popping sound of his length tearing through your narrow passage and the slick that provided the easy slide, caked around your two holes.

“yang– plea–” his thrusts halted. His cock stayed nudged deep inside of you, your hole tried to size up around his wide base. The humidity of the bathroom that clung to your skin was a big contrast to the wind from the opened window, showing a view of the bustling city of Taipei.

“I give you everything you want but you can't take a simple fuck? no wonder why he couldn't fucking deal with you.” his eyes, for the first time meet yours. His glare sent alarming butterflies to your stomach. “you don't fucking care about me, huh?” he pushed your dizzy head over the sink, birds and stars flew above and around it.

“s’ too early–” you slurred, the saliva bubbling up in your mouth once his hand yanks your hair even harder; spine strained as your head tried to meet wth his hand. His eyes widened, eyebrows furrowed in absolute rage; protruding a slight whimper from your lips at his newfound aura. “I spend thousands on you everyday and you treat me like this?!” the tip of your nose burned before unwanted tears brewed and fell into the sink, blending in with the running faucet water.

“you're so fucking annoying when you cry. well guess what, you can't get everything you want sometimes, pretty face.” his sharp canines glinted through the clean, white light of the bathroom, more butterflies started to bloom in the pits of your stomach.

You felt nauseous knowing that this was the words coming out of the mouth of the male that bought pendants and took you out shopping whenever he could, the same man that you were even willing enough to leave your friends and family for to a foreign country was just as willing to trap you.

You scrutinized the taunting jade gem ring on your finger, it looks dull. The said finger folds unconsciously; tucking the shame away but the slight burn of the intricate silver swirls and details of the ring only stung into your knuckle.

You'll never forget.

“'m sorry, you just caught me off guard and you scared me..” you mustered up a small mumble before he slammed his hand on the sink. You flinched away with a yelp; pushing his cock out of your leaking hole slightly with a clench.

“you're fucking overreacting again, stop that!” nodding your head mindlessly, but you won't even bother to look at the reflection. It'll just shove that guilt deeper down your throat, seething and burning. You sniffled, chest heaving painfully as tears fell relentlessly from your red, irritated waterline; if it wasn't disgusting enough, snot lined the top of your thick lip.

“fucking disgusting–” his hand pushed the back of your neck, maneuvering your head rather aggressively towards the sink; your shoulders at a strained angle. His hips met with your ass once more, your walls ached pleasurably once his tip knocked into your cervix and your nails scratched against the marble. The warmth of his cock now feeling more intruding than pleasing to a point but the line between the two was blurred and unknown.

Your hipbone became rashed and abused against the counters edge, mind starting to mush into nothing again. You found yourself muttering and blabbering all sorts of things, having no fucking idea what you were doing.

You were an incoherent mess, screaming, whimpering, moaning, thighs clenching and unclenching along with your plumate walls.

But in reality, the thought of children terrorized you. Being too young to even be a mother, barely even living your life to the fullest before you were trapped with him.

“m’ gonna cum inside ya, yeah? gonna be stuck with me forever..” he said, one of his vacant hands travels to the lone ring before sliding it off without you even knowing. “please.. I want it– I want it so bad~” yangyang snickered at the pleads, his hand travels to your neck; pushing your back flush against his clammy torso.

Your tits bounced with the rhythm of his thrusts, clit throbbing consistently; “mmf– fuck!” he grunted loudly, his balls slapping then slipping into your passage. You screeched at the tense feeling of being practically torn as you tried to accommodate to his harsh gyrations and the new incursion of the two flesh.

you could only emit a guttural cry, thrashing within his grip but his arms wrap around your mid waist, circuits of pain and nirvana ran through your body.

“you're gonna take it, sweetheart.. I know you could..”

He suddenly stuck his salty thumb past your lips, drool accumulated around your lips and at the back of your throat. “suck.” he demanded lowly, you obviously obliged; wrapping your lips around it.

“you're prettier when you obey..” he stuck the digit slightly further, causing your gag reflex to recoil and his cock to twitch, releasing bits of precum at your pure submission.

“daddy's gonna fill you so well, princess.. gonna be plump and m’ gonna walk around with you like a prize. everybody's gonna know what we've done, some will even look at you in disgust because you were willing to open your legs for me..” he whispered into your ear, breathless but managing to keep his eyes on your half lidded ones. Your gaze weary and unfocused, the usual whites of your eyes red from crying.

He grinned whilst sliding your hand to your navel, feeling his cockhead protruding under the digit's tip and you slightly winced at the feeling of his slimy canine brushing against the lobe of your ear. “don't you feel me baby?” his thumb finally leaves the back of your throat, brushing against the tonsil, causing your throat to recoil.

“can't wait to finally have control, baby. the first time didn't work, but it'll surely work this time..” he remarked, before he stilled and marked your walls with his warm seed. Inhaling and exhaling, exhausted; your own weight became your own enemy before you collapsed onto the counter but slid into the ground eventually. Your toes curled with discomfort as you shriveled against the corner, both of your releases leaked out of you.

Your mind was dazed, your body wasn't your own. You looked up at yangyang, vision blurry from the aroma of unconsciousness that'll soon sweep over you.

“yangyang– why'd you do that..?” was the last thing you said before everything went pitch black.

Yangyang was mesmerised in full awe at the scene, your pretty lashes wet with tears and his seed dripping out of you and your hole fluttering with every breath and heave.

Yangyang grabbed your waist, lifting&carrying your limp body bridal style before laying your battered body on the bed.

Your body was like a painting of the pretty night sky, the stars being the bruises,marks and scars from today and times before.

He believed you were beautiful like this and he'll keep you like this forever, his eyes stayed on your stomach and his neck crawled with warmth.

He giggled knowing that soon enough, you'll be truly his.. not kunhang's.. definitely.

You'll bare his kids and he'll make sure that you'll definitely forget about him.. even if it meant beating your memories out of you. he wanted the best for him you.

You wouldn't even mind to utter his name in this house.

He opens the drawer, finding that miniature velvet box, his thumb caresses it lightly before popping it open. He admires the ring before sighing with content triumph before pulling it out, the gem was a ruby. red, his favorite color.

This'll be the new beginning for you both.

You'll soon forget about him.

Especially with the new ring he finally slid on your finger.

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hotheadedhero · 4 months

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Love at First Fight

We can have an adoration for someone but sometimes it takes a special moment to realise how we truly feel about them. This moment is different for everyone and isn't always... conventional

Raphael x Reader

Watching Raphael fight and spar has always fascinated you from the first moment you spotted him from your apartment window. It must have been after he had one of many arguments with his brothers because he was clashing with a gang of Purple Dragons on his own. You’ve always been a night owl, so it was only a matter of time before one of these battles fell before your wondering eyes. After getting over your initial confusion about his appearance, you found yourself utterly enraptured by his moves and how he fights with a lack of reservation. Curiosity got the better of you that night and urged you to take a closer look - a decision that has snowballed into you being here with him and his family now.

“I’ll spar with you,” you chime, earning many baffled glances.

“And risk wrecking that pretty face of yours?” he asks through a teasing, confused smile. “Not happening, princess.”

Your blood warms with both the sly compliment and his skepticism. It isn’t uncommon for the two of you to flirt, whether it’s playful banter or a means of trying to disarm one another. No one is entirely sure how this exchange came to be but everyone has put it down to you retaining a similar fiery temperament. What they don’t know is that this friendly transaction of dallying quips has been hanging hot in your stomach recently. You can’t pinpoint exactly when this materialised but you know that you’ve got it bad. He’s just so iron-willed - brazen in the face of danger no matter the circumstances. You’ve always revered strong figureheads, so you suppose it was only a matter of time before you’d develop a crush on your friend.

“You think I can’t take it?” you challenge bluntly.

“I know you can’t. Remember how many times I had to save your ass within the first week of knowing ya’?”

How could you forget? This guy makes a point of reminding you every opportunity he gets - a fact that annoys you tenfold given the feelings you harbour for him. You would love nothing more than for him to see you as something other than a damsel in distress. That being the case is admittedly your fault but it’s time for a change. You don’t expect to dazzle him but it would be nice to feel as though you can stand on his level and what better way than to engage in a sparring session? That is pretty much his language, after all. Hopefully, this will be the defining moment that halts the frequent patronisation you endure. It just so happens that you have a little something up your sleeve.

A hand makes home on your hip, pushing out slightly as you quirk a brow in his direction. “Will you at least humour me?”

His eyes flicker down and up again to meet yours, noting the absence of any jest. You are dead serious on this one and that alone manifests a new level of respect. It’s stupid, quite frankly foolish to volunteer a match with him, but he will oblige nonetheless. Raphael may give you a hard time but deep down he does care about you (though he’d never admit it), which is why he’s going to go easy on you. He has years' worth of training and genuinely doesn’t want to run the risk of hurting your pretty little head.

When he caringly rests his sais to one side and stands just a few feet in front of you, you know you’ve gotten your way. Promptly, you dash for your bag, retrieve a small item, and return to your position. His head cranes to the side as you open up the case and slip in your earbuds. A smile from the youngest of the brothers shines from the corner of your eye. Michelangelo was a huge inspiration for this idea and he’s more excited than anyone to see how you follow through. Your opponent merely saunters ahead of you with an unamused patience that is wearing thin, assuming that you must think this to be some kind of joke. In a sense, you do.

After a quick song selection, you hop on the spot and shake everything off before readying yourself. A raised hand that double taps the air is all it takes to beckon him to make the first move. He sprints in and swings a hand around your right, a hit that he holds back enough in case you don’t dodge but you do. You swerve back and your feet crisscross in time with the beat before one leg swings up to jab him in the cheek. The look of stark surprise pressed onto his face with the contact of your calf will be cherished forever; heavy bass and harmonic strings vibrating into your skull make the small victory all the more worthwhile. He doesn’t fall but the shock has him stumbling until he quickly regains his posture.

Your movements aren’t copies of Mikey’s, so there’s no way he taught you any of this. One wouldn’t trust him to teach to begin with. When Raphael turns back to face you, he is met with an expectant grin. Raised tauntingly, your hand gestures for him to go at you again. He complies by doing so, swinging with less restraint than before and, yet, every jab sent your way is only met with empty air. The rapid movement of your limbs doesn’t give him a clear indication of where you’re going next. In between each side-step, you smirk at him, egging him on with your rising cockiness. You barely attempt to strike him, instead focusing on these effortless evasive manoeuvres.

As if you can sense his agro, you decide to stop this back-and-forth shuffle and hook an ankle around his knee, knocking him onto his front. This will be a short-lived win, however. Frustration finally takes its helm and Raph pirouettes on his hands before he forces a foot into your abdomen. With a strained grunt, you fall back and one of the earpieces tumbles onto the floor. Your face scrunches up and you gasp against the hysteria of your rattling stomach.

“Crap!” Any grievance he had before diminishes and he’s quick to try and make amends. “You okay?”

Once he’s close enough, you lurch your hands on either side of your head, lift your legs into your chest, and use any strength left in your core to spring up and kick. Your shoes make a crisp smack against his cheek and he loses enough footing to fall onto his back, arms pressing into the floor to prevent his shell from rocking. He can’t find it in himself to form any words at this moment. Words have lost all meaning. All he sees is stars. That was… incredible. He had you down on the ground and still, you found a way to turn the situation in your favour. Where has this side of you been hiding? Have you always been able to fight or have you been taking lessons in secret? The latter may explain why he hasn't had to come in and be your knight in green amour as of late. Regardless, he’s speechless. Usually, a beatdown like this would have him going savage but the only thing he feels is admiration and a strange rush in his chest. If it’s adrenaline, it’s like nothing he’s ever experienced amid battle before. This intoxicating, almost painful sensation sends his mind into a spin and he barely registers the small hand outstretched in front of him. Your prideful smile only accelerates the screaming pounding of his heart and it takes a second before he manages to take your grasp.

You help him back onto his feet and chortle confidently. “Reckon I can take it then?”

“I… how…?” These are the only words he manages to stammer out with his slowly furrowing brow. “What?”

“If you think that was cool, you should see what I can do with flamenco,” you joke, crossing your aching arms over your chest.

“Where’d you learn to fight like that?”

“My old man used to teach me self-defence.” You kneel to retrieve the stray earbud from the floor and place both back into their pod safely. “As for the dance moves: that’s all self-taught, honey.”

The shot of a wink from your person has him reeling again but he has another burning question that just about keeps him stable. “If you know how to defend yourself then how the hell d’you end up in so much trouble back in the day?”

A mischievous grin brightens your face and you absentmindedly shrug. “Had to get your attention somehow.”

Softly, you pat him on the cheek you had just pummelled - the sting only now registering with your touch - before leaving to check for any bruising. If you want to avoid questions at work, you’ll need to treat them quickly with a cold compress and some aloe vera; a neat little trick courtesy of the braniac brothers. This leaves Raph to stare at the doorway you just left through. A million and one questions are still whirring around in his head but he can’t seem to shake the thought that you have just unequivocally bewildered him. You wanted his attention. That confirmation alone threatens to burn his face, surely worsening the condition of his bruise, but he doesn’t care. The only thing he loves more than your playfully flirtatious banter right now is the fact that he now knows you can handle yourself in a fight.

Cooing from his brothers’ voices draws him out from the rose-tinted world and he glares them down to the best of his abilities with his supposedly tarnished pride.

“You just got served, son!”

“Yeah, well, I won’t be holding back next time.” A confident smirk pulls at the side of his lip and his eyes return to the open doorway. “Especially now I know she’s got what it takes.”

A/N: It was a happy accident but I got ecstatic with the parallel of you falling in love with Raph from watching him fight, and him falling in love with you because you proved you could fight. Hope you enjoyed!

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2012 #2012 raph #raphael x reader #raphael #raphael 2012 #2k12 raph x reader #x reader #tmnt x reader #tmnt raphael #raph x reader #tmnt raph x reader

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say-al0e · 5 months

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Your Graduation

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Eddie didn't remember much of his first senior year. But he remembered you. Now, after finally graduating, he just hoped you'd forgive him for the way that first year ended. Warnings: Bullying, self-esteem issues, anxiety, blink and you'll miss it parent issues, maybe a vague mention of Hawkins being Hawkins; anything else, let me know and I'll tag it. Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!Reader Word Count: 9.8k

Eddie Munson couldn’t remember much of his first senior year.

The whole thing was a blur, a barely there flash of moments he was glad to forget, but he remembered how rough it was. Some things hadn’t changed - taunts still followed him and so did the name calling - but it was worse then, hurt more when the torment came from people his own age, people he’d known most of his life and once naively pretended were his friends.

Back then, Eddie was still settling into his own. He knew who he wanted to be - or, more accurately, who he didn’t - but he still stumbled. Hellfire was in something of an infancy, only a year or two old after he’d dragged it from an informal gathering with a handful of people to an official school club, and Corroded Coffin was just starting to become a serious pursuit. It was before they began playing at The Hideout on Tuesdays and he’d fucked up his hair with black boxed dye so badly that he’d been tempted to shave his head again. At that point, he’d only just begun dressing the way he really wanted and his skin wasn’t quite as thick; had no ink and no armor to protect himself from the teenage bullshit.

Things hadn’t changed very much, hadn’t gotten much easier, but it was more tolerable; better. He was better.

It was difficult to remember the classes he skipped, the books he thumbed through, the assignments he ignored, the dances he was never invited to, but Eddie had a handful of memories that all centered around one thing; you. In fact, the only thing he really remembered from his first senior year - and the only thing he never wanted to forget - was you.

Eddie considered himself to be a man with few regrets but his biggest was that he hadn’t taken the leap and gotten to know you sooner.

For years, until August of 1983 - the first week of classes, the first week of what should’ve been his year - you never really ran in the same circles. Eddie was the freak, an outcast among outcasts, and you were beloved by all. There were only a handful of people who would be caught dead speaking to him but it seemed as if everyone wanted to speak to you.

The basketball players, their cheerleader girlfriends, the swimmers, the football players, the pretty girls who couldn’t be bothered to actually attend gym, the burnouts, the theater kids, even the terrified freshmen; you somehow fit with them all, alternated sitting at their tables or stopping by to say hello, and always received bright smiles in return.

Sometimes he wondered how you did it, floating around the school with a smile as everyone just let you in without hesitation, but then you turned your charm on him.

Every time you caught his eye in the hall or across the crowded lunchroom, you smiled at him. If a teacher stuck you with him for a project, you never huffed and puffed in the same way so many others would; you simply slid your chair a little closer to his and smiled, bright and pretty, as you asked him what he thought about the topic at hand. There was never a sneer on your lips at his presence, never so much as a wary look, and you never cowered in fear if he brushed a little too close in the hallway, always on accident. You were nice to him, even when you didn’t have to be, and he appreciated it.

You and Eddie weren’t friends but you never made him feel as if there was a reason for that.

The day that changed, the day you became friends, was nearly the clearest day in his memory of that first senior year - overshadowed only by the day he kissed you for the first time.

Eddie found you in the woods on a Thursday, sat at the picnic table he’d claimed as his own, after a particularly rough pop quiz. The eyeliner you wore had been scrubbed away, harshly chipped at by soft fingers desperate to rid your face of the evidence, though a few wayward streaks stained your skin in a way that confirmed you’d been crying.

Everything always seemed to easy for you, so fucking effortless, and Eddie remembered his surprise when you admitted that some things - math, mostly, and science; classes that weren’t English, not rooted in some kind of thoughtful analysis that allowed you to delve into thought and feeling and intention - left you struggling.

That soft laugh, a little deflated and a little self-deprecating but entirely devoid of humor, you offered when you acknowledged how stupid it was to get so worked up over a grade still rang in his ears if he sat quiet for long enough. The beginning of that conversation was a little watery - you sat with your bottom lip quivering, eyes rimmed red and falling to the table in a display so shy it took him by surprise - but he understood. You were trying to get out of Hawkins, trying to make something of yourself, and a scholarship was the only way to do it.

In an effort to lighten your mood, Eddie did all he could to take your mind off it. He grabbed a handful of tapes from his van and introduced you to his favorite bands. He played Black Sabbath and Dio and Metallica, laughed when you wrinkled your nose and grinned when you got into the rhythm of one of his favorites. He spent the afternoon hiding in the woods with you, drawing little bits of your personality out piece by beautiful piece, and he’d give anything for one more day, just like that one.

That was the first time you’d ever cut class, the first time you’d broken the rules, but - perhaps more importantly - it was the first time Eddie shared thoughts he’d only ever dreamed of breathing aloud. It was your first attempt at chipping away his walls and you didn’t even notice.

Eddie always thought you were pretty, a true vision even in garish green and gold as you wandered the halls of Hawkins High, but that day really sealed his fate. He saw you then, up close and personal, and could still see the details permanently etched into his field of vision if he concentrated hard enough.

The shape of your lips, rounding around soft admissions and breaking apart in delighted laughter at his stupid little jokes; the twinkle in your eyes, warm and so bright in the late afternoon sunlight, sparkling as you glanced at him from beneath your lashes; the softness of your cheeks, puffing with feigned annoyance when he teased you for admitting your love for disco.

Everything about you was beautiful, bright and warm and brilliant, and all Eddie wanted was to bask in your glow.

After that conversation, when night began to fall and early fall sun began to give way to an Indiana night, he drove you home and thanked every deity he could remember when the scent of your perfume lingered in his van the next morning. That conversation was the confirmation he’d dreamt of - confirmation he’d feared - as it told him your soft smiles and pretty eyes weren’t shown to him in pity.

Though he’d never admit it to anyone - except you, maybe, if you ever pressed - he’d been afraid. Not of you, never of you, but of falling for you. He always knew it would be easy, almost alarmingly so, and that it would end in a broken heart on his behalf. There was no other way it could go. Not for him, never for him.

That certainty made him keep you at a distance as he told himself for months that your smiles, the soft looks and quiet laughter at his antics, meant nothing. He convinced himself that you pitied him, that you simply hated the way other students talked to him because you couldn’t stand seeing anyone hurt, and that you’d do the same for anyone else in his shoes.

But that day, something bright and warm blossomed in his chest when you waved at him from your front steps. It curled around his lungs, tendrils squeezing tight every time he thought of you, and made it hard to breathe. Though fall was just beginning, the days seemed brighter somehow and as the warmth consumed him, lapped at his skin and left him floating, he began to grow accustomed to the feeling.

Eddie always wanted you to be a part of his life but never dared dream that you would want the same. Even when you made it clear that you enjoyed his presence, he never believed there was anything other than friendship on your mind. In a desperate bid to protect himself, he decided that it was reciprocity, maybe - a few hours of your time for weed, for someone to fix that rattle in your car that always disappeared before the mechanics at Thatcher’s could hear it, for a shoulder to cry on when someone better than him lost their mind and rejected you - but never could he have imagined you would want him the way he so desperately wanted you.

It was shameful to admit, a secret he would’ve kept had you not chipped away at the walls he so carefully spent years constructing, but Eddie dreamt that you would just hold his hand. For far too long, he imagined being able to hold you in his arms - to look at you, to trace the slope of your lips with his thumb before tugging you into a soft kiss that left you flustered - and he sometimes worried reality would never live up to his dreams.

With you, though, reality always seemed infinitely better than anything he could dream up. He only wondered how long he would continue to get lucky.

When you kissed him for the first time, it was both completely expected and the biggest shock of his life.

Everyone but him saw it coming.

Though your friendship took years to build, that initial spark - a flicker of sun magnified on the ash of a bad day - quickly became an all-consuming wildfire. The pair of you went from barely acknowledging one another to attached at the hip seemingly overnight. Within a week of that conversation, more often than not, your free time was spent with him.

Eddie’s bedroom consistently smelled of weed and green apple shampoo, a little patchouli cologne and cigarette smoke - coffee and hairspray, if the day called for it - but it soon began to smell of you, too. The sweet, warm summer of your perfume, the soft rose of your shampoo, the bright mint of your gum; he breathed it in, allowed it to fill his lungs each morning, and reveled in the warmth that filled the pit of his stomach. He needed it, craved it, desperate for just a fraction of your presence, and would’ve been embarrassed had it been anyone else.

Pieces of you - soft scrunchies, tubes of sticky pink lipgloss, half-empty bottles of nail polish, fashion magazines, pop cassette tapes - began to accumulate. In his bedroom, in his van, in his locker; soon, it seemed that everywhere he looked, there were little reminders of you. It was comforting to be surrounded by your presence and, more than that, eased the ache in his chest when he realized that your weekends were spent in his bed rather than in the backseat of some meathead’s car.

Still, he sometimes wondered if it was all a dream.

In fact, he nearly grew convinced that it was all some vivid hallucination right around Christmas. When you handed him a neatly wrapped package, a soft smile on your lips, he teased you for the pretty bow you’d spent too long tying. To shut him up, you pressed yourself onto your toes and captured his lips in a soft, chaste kiss. You couldn’t look him in the eye when you pulled away, soft lips curved into a giddy smile, and he couldn’t stop himself from dragging you back in for another kiss.

That day was simultaneously the best and worst of Eddie’s life.

That was the day Eddie realized there could be more to your relationship, that you could love him, too - he was so far gone then, stuttering and shy and deep in the throes of his first love. It was the day he realized he could see a future with you, especially as time wore on and you grew closer and closer. Much to his surprise, your affection only grew when dragged into the light. You sat with him and the Hellfire Club at lunch, spent your afternoons studying with him in the library after practice, spent your weekends exploring long forgotten spaces hidden around Hawkins, had sporadic dinners at the diner and sat in the grass to read as he worked on his van.

There was never any attempt on your part to hide your love, to pretend that you were anything other than head over heels for Eddie Munson - reputation be damned - and everything should’ve been perfect. Eddie had everything he’d ever wanted but that didn’t matter very much.

As desperate as he’d been to make you his, to call you his girl and smirk at the jocks who thought they still had a chance, the day you kissed him was the day he realized that he couldn’t. You were his in all the ways that mattered - you slept in his bed more often than your own, slipped pieces of his wardrobe into your own and wore them for everyone to see, held his hand in the halls and kissed him before heading to class - but he could never bring himself to make it official.

In the eyes of everyone else, you were his girlfriend but not once was he able to call you that. To everyone else, it was obvious just how much you loved one another - they heard you whisper it before class, a little shy but never ashamed, and Eddie could recall every single time those three little words spilled past your lips - but he’d never been able to return them.

Eddie knew you were under the impression that he was simply nervous, hesitant to admit his feelings because he’d never received romantic attention before, but he was so far past self-preservation when it came to you that he would’ve told you he loved you the moment you kissed him had he not realized you had no future.

In October, well before he even considered he had a chance with you, Eddie realized there was no way out of Hawkins; not for him, not in 1984, anyway. He tried desperately - studied harder than he ever had, let you make him flashcards and actually used them, hid in the library and read the awful books Ms. O’Donnell assigned - but it was never enough. You built him up, reminded him that he was smart and capable, but no matter how hard he tried, his grades remained a flat line of crushing disappointment.

Not a single day passed without you encouraging him, pushing him forward with sweet words and bright smiles, but it was no use.

In late May of 1984, underneath the blistering Indiana summer sky, you walked across the stage while he watched from the bleachers.

During your time together, Eddie learned a few important facts about you. One, you would stop at nothing to encourage him; two, you were selfless to a fault; and, three, if you felt that he needed you, you would do everything in your power to help him.

Eddie knew that if push came to shove - and it had, because he’d pushed desperately to graduate and had been shoved straight back into a second senior year - you would entertain the idea of sticking around, just for a year, to help him graduate.

As much as he loved you, there was no way he was going to be the reason you abandoned your dreams.

By never making your relationship official, by never telling you just how desperately he loved you, Eddie hoped it would be easier for you to let him go. The last conversation you had was one he desperately tried to forget - one in which he yelled, the first time he’d ever raised his voice at you, that you were better off without him - but it played on a loop in his mind.

Instead of promising he would call or write, that he would do his best to graduate and join you, he denied ever loving you. He stood in your driveway and watched, cheeks stained with tears and hands trembling, as you tore out of Hawkins. You’d gotten into a school in Illinois, one you’d talked about the entire time you were together, and he’d spat that you were better off there, forgetting all about him.

Still, at first, you tried.

Eddie wondered if you’d seen right through him - you were good at that; knowing exactly when he was lying, when he was retreating into himself in hopes of protecting his fragile heart - but he felt guilty. The glassy look in your eyes, the quiver of your bottom lip, the trembling of your fingers, the soft gasp of hurt; it haunted him, lingered every time he closed his eyes, and was made worse with every effort you made.

Despite how things ended, you sent letters and postcards and even a care package. You called, spoke to Wayne a handful of times, and even knocked on his door in December when you came home for break. He knew that you were desperate to at least see his face, to try and make sense of how quickly he pushed you away, but he couldn’t. Eddie knew that one look at you would break him, would convince him that he’d made a mistake, and he couldn’t do that.

Instead, he ended up with a shoebox full of letters, all from you and all unopened. He refused to read them, refused to let himself wonder what words were hidden inside even as he lay awake at night, but he still dreaded the day they stopped arriving. Most days, he struggled to remember the date but if you asked, he could tell you exactly when the last letter arrived.

It was only a matter of time before he ran into you, he knew that. Your family still lived in Hawkins - your parents, your little brother - and when the summer after your freshman year of college and his second unsuccessful senior year rolled around, he waited with bated breath for you to return. Eddie never cared much for gossip but he listened intently for even a whisper of news about your return.

Finally, he heard that you’d decided to stay in Chicago and he decided to stay in his bedroom for the remainder of the summer.

As time passed, Eddie wondered when you would return. Soon, however, summer turned to fall and then to winter and he heard - through the grapevine, once again - that your family was headed to Chicago to spend the holidays with you. It seemed as if you were avoiding Hawkins and, truth be told, he couldn’t blame you. If he ever made it out, he planned to never look back.

However, your return was inevitable.

Eddie knew that you would be in town for the class of 1986’s graduation; that was never a doubt in his mind. Though you kept your distance, your brother was in his class, spared him glances in the hallway and told Jason Carver to fuck off any time he witnessed something he shouldn’t, and there was no way you were going to miss seeing him walk across the stage.

Whispers spread through town when you arrived, murmurs of your name filled his ears each time he wandered the halls, and he was grateful that nearly everyone seemed to have forgotten your momentary lapse in judgement. Still, he held his breath any time he was forced to enter a local building - Family Video, Bradley’s, the gas station, the diner, Thatcher’s - just in case, even though he never expected to see you in any of them.

The one place he knew you wouldn’t be was exactly where he found you.

For the first time in two years, you stood in Eddie’s line of sight and he was struck with an understanding of what people meant when they said that someone had both changed completely and not at all.

Physically, there were only a handful of minute differences. Even from a distance, he could see that a few more piercings littered your ears, your hair had gotten a little longer and your cheeks a little thinner, your thighs and hips a little fuller. The last time he saw you, you were eighteen and terrified, heartbroken and miserable; now, you looked sure of yourself, more confident and at home in your own skin.

Long gone were the muted tones and modest skirts you used to wear. In their place, you wore a dark mini-skirt that exposed most of your thigh, something he’d only seen in a magazine, and a tank top. The jean jacket that covered them both was oversized, littered with patches and pins, and Eddie wondered - only briefly - if it was yours or if you’d borrowed it from a boyfriend.

The thought of you with anyone else filled him with a jealousy he couldn’t stand. It was unreasonable - he was the one who broke things off with you, was the one who refused to keep trying - and he knew that. But as he stood at the bottom of the staircase and observed you, his heart hammered so hard against his ribcage that he fleetingly feared it might leap through his skin.

Warm light spilled from the windows and illuminated your figure, cast a dim glow about the small space that allowed him the luxury of studying you. He could see silver jewelry glint every time you moved your hands - rings, that looked a hell of a lot like his, and bracelets that jingled with every gesture - and it seemed nearly impossible to breathe as he watched you throw your head back in a laugh.

Eddie had thought about you every day since you left. Somedays, it was for hours; others, it was simply in passing. Not a day had gone by, however, that he hadn’t thought of you at least once. There was no question that he’d missed you, no question that he still loved you. In fact, Eddie was of the opinion that he wouldn’t be able to get over you, even if he tried.

He knew in August of 1983 that you were it for him but now, he wondered if he’d been it for you.

As he stood, rooted to his spot at the foot of the stairs, he watched you lean against the railing beside your brother’s girlfriend. The swaying of your body told him you were on the verge of having too much, a little looser than he’d ever seen you in public as you pursed your lips and frowned at the cup in your hand.

“He’s a nice guy,” he heard you say, words stringing together a little too quick - a little fuzzier, a little clunkier than the carefully chosen words and measured cadence he still heard in his dreams. Despite that, your voice sounded just as he remembered and, were it not for the subject matter, he would’ve been content to close his eyes and listen for as long as you continued speaking. “I just… I don’t think I could love him forever.”

Eddie felt as if his world were crashing down around him. Though he’d thought of you daily, he never once considered the possibility that you were seeing someone else. It was possibly naive of him, or maybe a selfish, subconscious wish - after all, he hadn’t seen anyone else since you left, hadn’t even tried - but the breath he’d been holding caught in his throat as he waited for you to continue.

“I don’t even know if I love him now. I haven’t found anyone that I could see a future with since -” Again, selfishly, Eddie hoped that his name was on the tip of your tongue. He nearly broke when you cut yourself off, sent himself barreling up the stairs to ask the question. Your admission was comforting in a way he knew it shouldn’t be and it was selfish, but he hoped that you were thinking about him. He hoped that you missed him in the way that he missed you, that you still loved him, but he’d never really been that lucky.

The girl beside you offered some kind of reply, words of comfort that Eddie missed as the door opened and a handful of people stepped out into the night air, and he took that as his chance to ascend the stairs. Though he’d graduated himself and should’ve been celebrating, all he’d wanted was to make a few bucks before returning to his bed.

Now, all he wanted was to go home.

Had you been anyone else, he would’ve stepped right by and walked on without stopping, slipped into the open door and hid amongst the crowd - even though he’d never wanted anything more than to stop and take a look at you, catalogue all of the minute changes up close and personal. But you called his name, soft voice wrapping around each letter just as pretty as he remembered, and his body reacted before his mind could catch up.

“I thought that was you.” The words were less slurred than he thought they should be, a little easier to understand and coherent enough, as he turned to face you. Eddie barely noticed the girl at your side slip away - barely noticed anything that wasn’t you; your eyes, your lips, your hand wrapped around a cup of spiked punch. “The hair suits you.”

Eddie couldn’t really remember what he’d looked like the last time he saw you. There weren’t many photos of him in the first place but the ones you took with him - tucked beneath his arm, grinning as he made faces; smiling bright as he played guitar, watching with such careful focus; settled on his lap, face hidden in the crook of his neck - were hidden away. They lived in a shoebox, stuffed beneath his bed and slotted right beside the box of unopened letters, because he hoped he might forget what you looked like if he avoided looking at you for long enough.

That was never really a possibility, however, when he saw your face in almost every dream he had.

He knew that his hair hadn’t been quite as long - a little past his shoulders, almost awkward in length - and not quite as unruly. Despite himself, he’d wondered, often idly, what you would think of it.

For the first time in a long time, Eddie was struck silent. There wasn’t really much he could say other than, “Thanks. Yours does, too.”

Another minute change, but one Eddie noticed immediately. Your hair fell a little longer than he’d ever seen it, had been ironed straight and teased at the roots, but Eddie liked it. It reminded him of something out of one of his magazines, the pretty metalhead girls who wore leather and should’ve starred in his fantasies instead of you, and he struggled to keep himself from staring too long.

Silence had never been awkward between you. Even in the beginning, back before you knew how to be yourselves together, silence was tentative but usually broken by giggles. It was sweet, a nervous pause between young lovers who’d never been struck that hard by Cupid’s arrow, but those days were long gone.

The silence seemed to stretch endlessly, stifling and so fucking heavy Eddie feared he might crumble under the weight of it, but he couldn’t break it. Before that moment, he’d written lists - songs, poems, actual, honest to god lists - of things he wanted to say to you, if the universe would just give him a chance.

But when he looked into your eyes for the first time in two years, nothing seemed right.

Eddie swore his heart hadn’t beat that hard since the day you left but as your eyes traced his skin, flickered over the new splotches of ink peeking out from the collar of his shirt or the scar on his chin from a fight the summer before, his chest ached with the force of it.

“Congratulations,” you finally said, breaking the horrible stalemate and drawing Eddie’s gaze back to your own. “On, you know, graduating and flipping Higgins off. It’s been a long time coming.”

If anyone asked, Eddie would say that he came up with that plan all on his own. Higgins had it out for him, always had - just because he was a kid from the trailer park who wore black and listened to music a little too loud - and no one could question why exactly Eddie would’ve thought to defy Higgins as his final act.

That wasn’t the case, however.

The idea emerged less than a month before he destroyed the best thing that had ever happened to him. He remembered the weight of your body, half atop his - the warmth of your fingertips, lightly tracing the few scattered tattoos that stained his skin; the scent of your shampoo as he buried his face in your hair, eyes closed and so content - as you lounged in his bed. The conversation faded in and out, a handful of sentences spoken between puffs of smoke, but he remembered the way your eyes lit up at the mention of his second senior year.

“I think,” you’d whispered, as if you were sharing an important secret, “you should tell Higgins to fuck off. After you get your diploma, though. Oh, or flip him off! He deserves it.”

“Yeah. I was starting to worry he’d retire before I got the chance.” The joke sounded weak in his own ears, a half-hearted quip uttered to stave off that horrible silence, and he hoped the ground would open up and swallow him whole as he folded his arms over his chest. “Eighty-six was my year, I guess.”

There was a set to your shoulders that told him you weren’t amused. That furrow of your brow told him you were thinking, seriously weighing every word you could possibly breathe aloud, and Eddie hated it. He hated that he’d ruined the ease with which you’d always interacted, hated that you couldn’t just speak your thoughts aloud in the way you used to. He hated that you stood, lips parting but silence remaining unbroken as you thought better of every word you wanted to speak.

Most of all, he hated that now that he finally had you in his sight once more, the only thing he wanted to do was run.

“I should -“

“Amanda’s probably -“

A confused cluster of words filled the quiet as you both tried to speak at the same time. Eddie’s cheeks tinted pink, warm and blistering as he felt a white-hot shame fill his chest. Cowardice had him running, looking for an exit after years of hoping for a chance to get you back, but that was what he’d always done.

When faced with difficulty, Eddie Munson ran.

So, when you gestured for him to speak first, Eddie cleared his throat. “I should go,” he declared, casting a cursory glance at the open door he no longer wanted to enter. “I was just - I shouldn’t have come, anyway.”

That much was true - Eddie had never been invited to parties, had never been particularly welcome when his stash ran out - but he likely would’ve stayed, just to make a few extra bucks if you hadn’t stopped him dead in his tracks.

Some small part of him hoped for a fight, hoped that you would argue and ask him to stay, but that hope did little to quell his surprise when you scoffed. “Jesus, Eddie, this is such bullshit. It’s so fucking stupid,” you asserted, dropping your empty drink onto the railing and taking an angry step closer. “We’re tiptoeing around one another and I hate it. I…” He waited, breath caught in his throat and heart seeming to still in his chest, as you took a deep breath before meeting his gaze once more. “I miss you. You fucking miss me. Just… just say it and let’s get this shit over with.”

Eddie expected anger, he expected your hard feelings and upset. But to hear that you missed him, to hear that you hated the uncertainty and discontent that lingered between you both just as much as he did, kicked his seemingly frozen heart back into overdrive.

Suddenly, the bubble he’d been in - the island that consisted of you and him alone - popped and he was painfully aware of where you stood.

From the corner of his eye, Eddie could see faces peering through the open windows. Familiar faces - your brother, Jason, Harrington, Robin; people who knew and maybe cared about one, or both, of you - watched with wide eyes and bated breath. The noise of the party had stalled, dulled to a murmur as everyone was reminded of your history and the question they’d asked so many times after your initial demise.

What had Eddie done to lose you?

That was never a conversation he pictured having in front of an audience, not one he wanted the friends he still couldn’t believe he had to hear, so he shook his head.

“Why does it matter? That doesn’t change anything.” Eddie sighed, arms falling to his sides as he shook his head once more. There was little his confession would do. Admitting he missed you wouldn’t change the past and it would only serve to make the future harder. So, he refused. “Just… go back to the party, okay. I’m leaving.”

There was a shimmer to your eyes that he hated, a glimmer of unshed tears in the dim glow of light filtering through windows, and he wondered just how many times you’d let him make you cry before you finally let him go. There was a roiling in the pit of his stomach, a sick feeling that made his chest ache, but that pain was nothing compared to the sting of your response.

“Aren’t you tired of running away, Eddie? Doesn’t taking the easy way out get old?” He wanted to be angry but the feeling that gripped his lungs and squeezed until he felt incapable of drawing the slightest breath was one of sorrow. You were right, but that made it hurt that much more.

“That’s not -“

“Not what, Eddie? Not fair?” A laugh, harsh and angrier than he imagined you capable of, escaped as you pushed away from the railing entirely and brushed past him to reach the top of the steps. “Yeah, well, neither was you pushing me away with some bullshit excuse and then hiding from me when I tried to figure out what I’d done.” Another scoff, this one accompanied by a defeated slump of your shoulders as you began descending the stairs with careful steps. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter. I’m going for a walk. I guess I’ll see you around.”

Eddie watched for a moment as you wobbled on unsteady legs. You weren’t drunk, but you’d had enough that he couldn’t let you leave alone. With a heavy sigh - and without a glance spared at the audience you’d amassed - he called your name and followed you down the stairs.

“Stop.” He reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder, careful not to grab, but quickly recoiled when you jerked away from him. “You’re drunk. Let me take you home,” he offered, tugging his keys from the pocket of his jacket.

“Fuck off, Eddie. I’m not drunk and I don’t need your help.”

From the corner of his eye, Eddie could see your brother moving to linger at the top of the steps - ready to step in should you need him, should you both find yourselves overwhelmed in the situation at hand - and sighed. “C’mon, sweetheart,” he urged, voice soft as he took a tentative step forward. “I’ll drop you off and then leave you alone, alright?”

For a long moment, he waited with bated breath for your response. He stood, statue still, as you seemed to weigh your options and watched as your shoulders rose and fell just a little too fast. Despite the venue, despite the time that had passed, he wanted nothing more than to reach out and offer some semblance of comfort but those days had long passed. His touch would only further annoy you, he knew that, so he simply waited.

Finally, without a single word or glance back at him or the party, you crossed the lawn to where his van sat and climbed into the passenger seat. It was a familiar sight, one he’d missed terribly, but it brought him little comfort as he tipped his head back and blinked at the stars.

With a deep breath, an inhale that barely filled his lungs, Eddie spared your brother a cursory glance. When he received a nod, permission to whisk you away - encouragement to give you some sort of closure - he crossed. The lawn and climbed into the van himself.

It was widely known around Hawkins that you heard Eddie before you saw him. Loud music, heavy and fast, often warned of his presence before his van peeled into view. Way back when, you always teased him - joked that it was difficult for you to have a conversation over the sound of Metallica - but this time, the drive was silent.

Long gone were the good old days, the days where his van was filled with laughter as you swapped stories - theories about the lives of Hawkins residents neither of you had ever met, tales of school, dreams for the future - and music you both loved. For the first time in years, Eddie’s van alerted no one of his presence as it navigated the roads that were once as familiar to him as his own route home.

The silence was stifling, overwhelming, but you were too lost in thought to speak first and nothing Eddie could think to say felt appropriate. Everything he wanted to say felt hollow, like an excuse plucked from thin air, and he knew that it would only hurt you further.

It only further broke his heart to realize just how hurt you still were. If he was honest, he sometimes worried you’d gotten over him immediately. He worried that the relationship never meant as much to you as it did to him - though he knew, somewhere in the depths of his heart, that he couldn’t be farther from the truth - but to know that you’d harbored these feelings this entire time had a nauseating combination of emotions bubbling in the pit of his stomach.

When he finally pulled to a stop in front of your house, a spot once unofficially reserved for his van, Eddie finally mustered the courage to speak. He still wasn’t sure what he planned to say but he hoped the words would come. However, before he could so much as turn to you, you climbed out of the van and headed for the front door.

Eddie wondered, idly, if he should follow. A long time ago, he would’ve known immediately, would’ve been able to read you without sparing it a second thought, but now he felt crippling uncertainty. He wasn’t sure if you wanted to talk or if you wanted to get rid of him immediately, but he received his answer in the form of an open front door.

Following was a bad idea, he knew that - knew he’d end up sharing every thought he’d had over the last few years, knew that he’d end up breaking his own heart once more to heal yours - but he couldn’t stand seeing you so hurt. So, he climbed out of the van and followed.

There was no changing the past, no undoing what he’d already done, but he knew he could offer you some sort of closure. That was the least he could do.

The path to your front door was one he’d taken a thousand times before - only a little less traveled than climbing through your window, despite your parents’ likely knowledge that he’d slept over - and he kept his eyes on the ground beneath his feet. Glancing at the driveway to his left, the one he watched you peel out of on his last visit, would only intensify the ache in his chest.

Eddie tried not to think about that last visit, tried desperately not to remember the last words he spoke to you - the way he acted, desperate to push you away in some noble attempt to make you happier in the long run. He tried not to remember the ache in his chest as he watched you drive away, tried not to remember the look on your parents’ faces as he walked back to his van and sat for a while, just to gather himself. He tried to forget it all as he stepped into the house and pulled the door shut behind him.

With tentative steps, Eddie wandered through the house. He eyed the walls lined with photos, the living room that had been redecorated since he last stepped foot inside, and deeply inhaled the scent he associated with you - with home. The place he’d once seen as a second home turned into one he’d avoided so much as driving past for years and each step he took felt heavier than the last as he finally reached your bedroom door.

Little had changed about the room he once knew so well. There were a handful of new posters lining the walls, newer photos with friends he’d never met - tacked up in the place his photo once occupied - and he felt a glimmer of warm nostalgia as he took in the overfilled bookshelf.

“That’s new.” He gestured to the duvet, a stark white replacing the old pale pink, as he eyed where you sat at the foot of your bed.

“Old one’s in a box in the attic.”

Eddie hummed, acknowledging your response as he stood in the center of the room. He was uncertain, not quite sure of what to say or where to go, but it seemed as if you had little intention of pointing him in the right direction as you eyed your chipping nail polish.

“Your parents,” he began, pausing to listen for the sounds of life he might’ve missed. “They’re not home?”

“They’re with my grandparents. Took them back to Fort Wayne. We celebrated as a family yesterday ‘cause they knew he’d want to be with friends tonight,” you reasoned, shrugging as you did.

Another hum - this one of understanding as Eddie remembered just how understanding your parents had always been, just how supportive of your lives and how welcoming they’d been when you brought him home - before he sighed and took a step closer to you. “Is this the part where you kick me out?”

It wasn’t - he knew you wouldn’t, even if you had every right to - but he still felt a mild form of surprise when you sighed. “It should be.” A beat of silence passed in which Eddie wondered if he should speak, if he should begin the difficult conversation that he knew you needed to have, but before he could open his mouth, you spoke. “I’m sorry.”

Genuine bewilderment filled him as he blinked. “For what?” Try as he might, there was nothing Eddie could imagine you feeling the need to apologize for. You’d tried, he ran.

“For what I said at the party.” Finally, after nearly an hour of avoidance, you lifted your head and met his gaze for the first time since leaving the party. “It wasn’t fair,” you admitted and he could tell the apology was genuine.

Eddie sighed as he took another tentative step closer, closing the distance a few inches at a time, and shook his head. “But it was true.”

If there was one thing he could do, he could acknowledge his faults. He’d always been a coward, choosing to run rather than face his problems head on - choosing to push you away rather than have a difficult conversation - and he knew that. It was genetic, he imagined, inherited from a father who’d run from responsibility nearly two decades prior, but he hated that you were caught in the wake of it all.

“It wasn’t,” you countered, clearly convinced in a way Eddie didn’t feel he warranted. “But, even if it was, doesn’t mean it was okay to say.”

With one final step, Eddie managed to close the gap between you. When you shifted, moved to make room at the foot of the bed, he carefully sat beside you and sighed once more. “You should’ve said worse. I wouldn’t have blamed you,” he confessed, quiet in the silence of your usually bright home. “I… I was afraid I’d never see you again.” He spared a glance at your hands, watched for a moment as you picked at the remaining black nail polish, and nearly reached out to hold them as he continued, “I didn’t want to hold you back. I ran because I didn’t want to make you give it all up just to wait for me.”

Eddie lifted his gaze to your face, uncertain but desperate for any hint of how you felt. Long ago, he could’ve read you better than anyone, knew from the most minute twitch of your lips exactly how you felt, but your face was impassive as you shook your head.

“I knew what you were doing, Eddie,” you confessed, still refusing to glance at him as you turned to playing with the rings adorning your fingers. “How could I not? I knew you loved me, I never believed you didn’t. I just… I hoped you loved me enough to get that stupid fucking idea out of your head. That’s why I kept trying.”

There’d always been the question of why. He’d always wondered what kept you pushing, calling and writing letters and dropping by on your few trips home, when he was convinced he’d sufficiently broken your heart. Eddie hoped, desperately, that you’d believed him when he’d shouted that your relationship was a mistake. It would’ve hurt in the moment, he knew, but you would’ve been better off. Believing that he never cared the way you had, he thought it would’ve helped you get over him faster.

But to know that you never believed him, that you knew what he was doing all along, surprised him.

“I love you - loved you, Eddie,” you corrected, quickly, as you shook your head. “But I was never going to give up my dreams. It would’ve been hard, I knew that, but there was never any chance I was staying in Hawkins. We could’ve called, written letters. I could’ve visited during breaks. I… I never planned to stay but I didn’t want to leave you here forever. I wanted you to join me, Eddie. I would’ve waited for you there.”

With every word that left your lips, with every confession you made, Eddie felt the knot in the pit of his stomach tighten. He was so convinced that he knew you, that he knew exactly which choice you would make, that he never thought to ask. The possibility that you would’ve left, anyway, only leaving a lifeline for him to follow after his graduation, never crossed his mind. But, looking back, it should have.

Try as he might, Eddie couldn’t think of any instance in which you’d given him reason to believe you would stay. You talked often of your plans, of the trips home you’d make and the letters you could write. Your parents bought you a new Polaroid, one you planned to use to take photos of Chicago for them - and for him. The plan was always there, out in the open for all to know, but Eddie had been so focused on his own fear that he hadn’t heard you.

When you met his eyes, Eddie’s chest ached as he realized his mistake. “Did you ever read any of the letters?”

Eddie shook his head. “No. I wanted to,” he assured you, averting his gaze for a brief moment. “I couldn’t. I knew if I did, I would’ve wanted to write you back or call you or come see you. I kept them, I just… couldn’t read them.”

“If you had, you would’ve known that I didn’t hate you.” Eddie wondered just how much he’d missed by refusing to read the letters, just how desperately you’d tried to reassure him, and decided that he’d open them when he returned home. “If you’d read them, you would’ve known that I wasn’t coming back to be with you but I wanted you to join me. I promised I’d wait for you.”

“Even after my second senior year?”

An annoyed huff escaped as you rolled your eyes at him. “Yes, you dipshit,” you snapped, anger beginning to overtake the sadness you’d been crumbling beneath. “God, I love you - loved you.” Eddie’s heart pounded in his chest, beat an uncontrollable rhythm that nearly deafened him as he heard your second slip of the tongue. He knew it shouldn’t give him hope, not when he didn’t deserve a second chance, but he couldn’t help it as you huffed one more. “It wouldn’t have mattered how long it took,” you assured him, “I still would’ve waited for you.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Eddie remembered the reasons he’d had for pushing you away. They’d seemed so real all those years ago, so relevant, but your conviction cast his reasons into doubt. He wondered if they were ever valid or if he’d simply been trying to protect his own heart.

Still, he felt the need to explain himself. “You deserved better,” he reasoned, though it sounded weak in his own ears. “Someone who had a future, someone who was in college and going to do something with their life. That wasn’t me. I couldn’t be enough for you,” he admitted, ashamed he’d ever thought he could be.

“Stop fucking pretending this was about me.” You scoffed, pushing yourself up from the bed and beginning to pace at the foot of it. “You knew how I felt. I told you I loved you and you swore you’d never forget it. And I know you loved me, too. I just, I thought you were too afraid to admit your feelings. Now, I wonder if you ever even knew me at all, let alone loved me. Because if you did, you would know that I saw a future with you. I saw your future!”

Eddie watched with wide eyes as you glared at him, gaze sharp and angrier than he’d ever seen. It hurt to hear your doubt, your questioning, because he’d only ever loved you. There was never any doubt in his own mind, never any question of whether his love for you was anything but real, but he supposed he could understand where you were coming from.

That seemed to matter little, however, as you shook your head. “You’re more than you give yourself credit for, Eddie, and I’m sorry I didn’t make that clear enough when we were together. But you were enough. You were all I wanted, the only person I’ve ever really wanted.” You looked at him, then, met his eyes and took a moment to search for the answer to a question you had yet to ask aloud, before you sighed. “You were it for me, Eddie, and I hate it and I hate you.”

Eddie knew that you didn’t hate him. He’d heard your slip of the tongue - twice - that told him you dreamt of him as often as he dreamt of you. He knew that you were simply frustrated, annoyed at the loss you’d deemed avoidable, and couldn’t stop himself from standing to join you.

With shaking hands, he reached for you. There was no resistance then, no fight left in you as he pulled you into his chest. Your hands gripped fistfuls of his jacket, leather putty in your hands as you buried your face in the worn fabric of his Metallica shirt. He could feel your shoulders shake with quiet sobs, soft little noises that cracked his heart in half, and he blinked hard against the light to keep himself from following suit.

For years, Eddie thought himself a martyr. He thought he’d sacrificed his own happiness to ensure yours. He felt certain, somewhere in the far corner of his mind, that he was making the right choice in pushing you away. There was no future with him, not one that you deserved. He was convinced he’d only hold you back, an anchor around your waist that kept you tethered to a life less than you deserved, but he could see that his attempt at chivalry was misguided.

Though some small part of him hoped you’d missed him, hoped you’d loved him, he hated that that was the case. He hated that you’d felt this way, hated that he could’ve kept from hurting you - kept from hurting himself - if he’d only been brave enough to have the conversation with you. He hated that the pain you’d both suffered was his own fault and all he could do was hope you’d forgive him.

“Sweetheart.” Eddie lifted a hand to your cheek, attempted to guide your face forward - searching for your eyes - but you turned your cheek.

“Don’t.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered, voice cracking as he attempted to keep his breathing even. “I should’ve… you deserved better.”

“We both did.”

“I thought I was doing the right thing.” He wondered if you’d believe him, if you’d trust that his intentions were true, as he sighed. “I hoped that making you hate me would make it easier for you to get over me, let you find someone better for you. I didn’t… I thought I’d just ruin your future.”

For a long moment, you remained quiet. Eddie wondered if you were contemplating his confession - wondered if you were trying to decide if you would forgive him - and busied himself with brushing idle patterns across your shoulders.

“I don’t like it,” you finally whispered, “but I understand.” That eased a bit of the ache in his chest, made it a little easier for him to breathe as you admitted that you at least understood his rationale. “I would’ve liked to be part of that decision, though. I appreciate you trying to do what you thought was right but it was a relationship, Eddie. You can’t just choose what happens and expect it to be okay.”

There was never a clear definition of love for Eddie. He never had an understanding of what it meant to be in love and be loved in return. In his mind, love was about sacrifice. You gave of yourself to make sure the other person could thrive. It was a decision to be made alone, one that did not warrant a conversation - as a conversation would dissuade him from doing what was right - but as he thought, he realized you’d spent your relationship teaching him otherwise.

The relationship you shared was one filled with compromise, not sacrifice. Though you shared so many interests, there were moments you disagreed. Eddie never wanted to spend Friday nights at basketball games, watching from the bleachers as people who tormented him leered at you, but he dutifully sat in the stands and watched you cheer just to support you. You never loved The Hideout but you sat in the crowd and cheered louder for him than he ever heard you do for the basketball team.

Eddie knew you’d rather spend your weekends watching a movie or hanging out with friends but as the semester wore on, you’d spent night after night tutoring him on classes he still couldn’t manage to pass. And though he knew you loved him, he still found himself surprised by every date you turned down.

For nearly a year, you showed him that love was about compromise - giving just as good as you got - and he’d forgotten it in a moment of fear. Now, he only hoped he wasn’t too late as he attempted to lift your face to his once more.

“I should’ve talked to you,” he agreed, glad you finally met his eyes once more. “I… if I could do it again, I’d do things differently.”

“You can’t change the past,” you reminded him, gently. “But you can do things differently in the future.”

Eddie blinked, brows furrowing as he searched your face. He wondered if you were implying what he hoped you were, wondered if you’d be generous enough to give him a second chance, but he couldn’t help himself as he mentioned, “Your boyfriend…”

“I don’t love him. I wanted to,” you sighed, “I tried to. I just… don’t. I can’t.”

“Why?”

It was hopeful, softly optimistic in a way he hadn’t been since he last saw your face. And when you rolled your eyes, he couldn’t help but smile. “Don’t ask stupid questions, Eds. I know people suck but you’re smarter than that.”

“How long are you in town?”

Eddie knew that your relationship wouldn’t be rekindled immediately - he was a realist, after all - but he hoped that he’d have enough time to at least remind you of why you’d fallen in love with him in the first place. So when you smiled, offered him a glance from beneath your lashes, he felt a glimmer of hope.

“I’m here for the summer. My roommates graduated so we broke our lease. I couldn’t find anything for the summer so I’m picking up a new one by myself in August.” You smiled then, shrugging. “Rent might not be so bad if I had a roommate, though.”

“I hear Chicago’s nice,” he agreed, tentative but hopeful for the first time in a long time.

“I think you’d love it.”

There was more to be said, a conversation to be had, but Eddie felt a glimmer of something warm in the pit of his stomach. He could see a future once more, one in which you were again by his side, and promised that this time, he’d do things right.

_____________________________________________________

Author's Note: I spent so long on this. I'm kinda glad it's finally done. I included a few old anon requests so. Sorry it took so long. :) Also if my Modern Baseball anon is still around, here's a Modern Baseball inspired fic. :)

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#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #v's fics

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