#depends if you want angst or something more chill
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Guess who's back with another drawing of the same damn guy AGAIN
[ID: a digital drawing of Jet from Avatar: The Last Airbender. The drawing only shows his eyes and his wavy hair framing them, with gold and red dappled light over his face. His brow is slightly furrowed and his eyes face the viewer. End ID]
#jet atla#avatar: the last airbender#atla#jet#atla fanart#my art#digital art#figured out how to use sketchpad on a computer with a mouse which works WAY better than a tablet#and figured for this one I'd mess around with lighting and shadow#I'm really proud of how it turned out actually ^-^#It's supposed to have a kinda sunlight-through-fall-leaves effect#or it could also be sparks from fire idk#depends if you want angst or something more chill
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BABY TIME
🪐 bts x f! pregnant! reader (separate)
🪐 headcanons // fluff+angst
☆ warnings: none except maybe no beta read !
a/n: potential part 2 for when the baby is born? depends on if people like this.. also just short hcs bcuz well.. i overdid myself and did all 7 in one post... sigh (i made tis longer than it was supposed to be wtf)
☆KIM SEOKJIN
"Aishh! you already had chocolate earlier!"
constantly watching your diet, making sure all your vitamin and certain intakes are proper
"Jin I'm craving ramyeon with milk mixed in.." "WHAT"
catching him ask his mom what she needed and what she wouldve done if she got pregnant again (he has no shame)
he's an absolute prince in your child's eyes
when he has to leave, he calls you at least every 2 hours and if he can't, he messages you!! (asking for pics of you and the baby)
in love with role-playing with the child, wether it be king and princess, or knights and bandits (you're the damsel in distress)
☆ | 🪐 | ☆
☆MIN YOONGI
honestly, he was terrified of being a father because of his experience with his own father
once he realized the whole weight of the situation, he understood that he WILL be a good (and supportive) father because you are with him
learning that your child also has a thing for music
absolutely bringing your baby to the studio and letting him have his own crib next to his producing set-up
has noise cancelling headphones for the baby if he has to record something or when he's going to fully focus on producing
(of course has the volume on his headphones a medium volume so he can hear if the baby wakes up)
made a joke about how in daechwita, you'd be his empress and the baby is the heir
cue him posting a photo of the three of you in traditional hanbok (yoongi in daechwita outfit, without the long hair because baby will be upset)
☆ | 🪐 | ☆
☆JUNG HOSEOK
always taking photos of your progress
"look here!"
he always tries to keep you active
massages all day everydayyy
you got him to chill with the dance practices so that he both doesnt overwork himself AND you get to spend more time with him
absolutely doing the silliest things to entertain the baby
it's obvious who the favorite is 😐
showing dance moves to the baby and doing silly faces
has a picture of the three of you in hope world, he loves staring at it and just being grateful for his family
he's j-hope, you're bae-hope, baby is mini/baby-hope
☆ | 🪐 | ☆
☆KIM NAMJOON
songs containing references and metaphors that relate to you and the baby (not that he DIDNT do this before)
maybe even a whole mini-album dedicated to your journey into parenthood, each song created throughout your progress till your due date
he did his thorough research on pregnancy and things related to it and constantly gives you advice
when the baby is old enough for long distance rides, family trips are a common thing
loves cradling the baby and blabbering about an art piece they're standing in front of
you're so in love? help???
he has 3 lil plants, the 3rd plant being a new sprout that he likes to say is the baby (it sprouted the day the baby was born?? omg???)
☆ | 🪐 | ☆
☆PARK JIMIN
you became an absolute princess the moment he found out you were pregnant
wonders if the baby would grow up to have the same fingers as his papa mochi
already planning to convince the baby to try a martial art or a type of dancing so he and his papa can have multiple ways of bonding
dropping hints about the baby mochi on some of his lives
one time he asked if he can try your breastmilk
😐😑😐
teasing him about how when the baby holds his fingers, they look the same
☆ | 🪐 | ☆
☆KIM TAEHYUNG
honestly you'd have around 2-3 kids
but this is your first one, taehyung is honestly nervous
absolutely SURE he wants to be a father but more worried on if he'd be a good one
at this point, he'd also be another baby
"Ack, my feet hurt quite a bit.." "AREYOUALRIGHT?DOYOUNEEDTOGOTOTHEHOSPITAL??ILLCALLDOCTORPARK"
you personally think he might be the one more stressed even when he isnt the one carrying the baby
2nd questioner of wifey's breast milk taste
yeontan and the baby being bestfriends
yeontan has super instincts and starts going wild when he feels the baby is about to start crying
☆ | 🪐 | ☆
☆JEON JUNGKOOK
he watched the movie Up with taehyung and they googled why the old couple had a miscarriage, he learned it was from lead exposure
so now he keeps you away from drying walls and dusty areas and even has a small baggy filled with masks and cleansing tissue
he calls it "baby protection protocal"
surprisingly very calm and responsible! (hes trying to win your trust so that he can spoil your child rotten)
absolutely DROPS the fact that he is having a child and dragged you into the view of the live
3rd questioner of wifey's breast milk taste
baby plays with daddy's lip ring because he finds it really cool
baby also thinks daddy's sleeve tattoo is cool and always wants to slobber his saliva on it
baby wants to ride on bam's back??? 😭😭😭😭
#☆jeonitopia hcs#☆jeonitopia#bts x reader#kim seokjin x reader#kim namjoon x reader#min yoongi x reader#jung hoseok x reader#park jimin x reader#kim taehyung x reader#jeon jungkook x reader#bts headcanons#bts fluff#jungkook headcanons#jin headcanons#rm headcanons#rapmonster headcanons#namjoon headcanons#v headcanons#taehyung headcanons#jimin headcanons#jhope headcanons#hoseok headcanons#bts imagine
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bo peep 🦢
wc - 1.1K
🏷️ tags - boyfriend!harry, fem!reader, long distance relationship, fluff, slight angst if you squint.
pairings - boyfriend!harry & fem!reader 🕰️🎧
summary - y/n is hiding something, or someone, from harry, who is on the other side of the world.
(a/n) no spellcheck, so i apologize in advance! i wrote this in like five mins so it’s kinda.. blah but I wanted to share it :)
“so.. I did a thing.” is the first thing y/n says to him after accepting his facetime.
“oh no..” harry chuckles, his eyes furrowing in confusion, and a little worry.
“please don’t be mad.”
“well.. love, that depends on what it is..” harry says, his once playful mood beginning to diminish. what if it’s something serious?
“it’s something that could change our relationship forever.” y/n says, a blank face staring back at harry through the screen. uncomfortable chills run down his body, and he wishes he wasn’t miles away from her.
“is this something we should be discussing over facetime then..?” harry sighs, a frown taking over his features. he was excited to call y/n after his show, having missed her the whole day, but now this uncertainty is fucking up his day.
“i better just show you now..i think it would be better this way.” y/n explains, shuffling heard from her end. from the background, he can tell y/n is still in their “shared” bedroom in england. (it’s harry’s, but he likes to call it’s theirs) for some reason, this eases his anxiety slightly.
“come here, it’s okay.” he hears y/n whisper.
“did you adopt a baby or summat? why are you cooing..” harry starts, but his words become quiet as the smallest little white kitten enters the frame.
it’s silent for a moment, until the little thing meows, and harry barks out a laugh that startles the kitten.
“oh god, love— i thought— I thought this was something serious!” he says in between laughs, attempting to catch his breath.
y/n pretends to be offended, but the smile she fights off her face says otherwise. “oi! this is very serious. could make or break our relationship, because im not returning her.” she explains, making harry smile at her cuteness.
“i thought we agreed no pets? for now atleast..” harry says. since he’s always touring, traveling, moving, adopting a pet just wouldn’t fit into that lifestyle. they’d have to get pet sitters, who more often than not would be spending more time with the kitten than them.
“i know but.. it’s so lonely here. i need a companion. when me and y’mum visited the animal shelter and i saw this sweet little angel.. I couldn’t leave her there. anne said she kinda looks like you too.”
harry chuckles, “should’ve known my mum had something to do with this. crazy cat lady.”
“don’t call your mother that.” she hisses, although knowing, there is some truth to his words.
harry ignores her comment, “im sorry that you feel lonely. long distance is..hard. but are you sure about this? when you join me on tour it’s gonna be difficult with a kitten.”
“im sure. ill take her everywhere if i have to, she’s the sweetest, calmest girlie ever.”
“and it’s okay, i knew what i was getting myself into when we started dating.”
harry frowns at that. “i feel like a shit boyfriend.” he admits, sighing. y/n frowns back, setting the kitten down on harry’s side of the bed, which he envy’s for a split second.
“your an amazing boyfriend harry. so don’t say that.”
“i feel like i’m neglecting you— i should be with you.”
y/n shakes her head,”y’not. long distance isn’t rare y’know? you love touring, it makes you happy, I’m not upset. sure it gets..lonely, but that’s just part of being miles apart right? would be weird if I didn’t get lonely.. the love of my life is across the world!” she laughs.
harry smiles, making no attempt to cover the blush that tints his cheeks. for the first time in a relationship, he feels theirs a mutual bond of just..love, and needing eachother.
“you make me happy too, more than touring i reckon.” he says, making her pout dramatically through the screen. “don’t make me cry in front of bo peep haz.” she sniffs.
“bo peep? as in… from toy story? you named the kitten bo peep?” harry says, a serious look on his face before he breaks into laughter.
“wha? it’s a good name! i call her bo for short. don’t laugh at it! and also, not just from toy story..it’s a nursery rhyme too.” she says, acting offended.
“sorry love, it’s not a bad name. i kinda love it. bo.” he tries.
y/n smiles, nodding, before she yawns.
“tired babe?” harry asks, remembering it’s pretty early for her right now. it’s ‘twelve am’ for him.. so it’s like, five or six am for her.
“mhmh..couldn’t fall asleep with this little one.. feel like a new parent. im scared something will happen to her. also, wanted to hear your voice.” she says, yawning again at the end of her sentence.
harry coos, “imagine when we have babies, you’re gonna be a wreck.” he laughs. the topic isn’t foreign, or uncomfortable for them. in the two years they’ve been together, talking about babies and marriage is something that always comes up in their conversations, especially late night ones.
in past relationships, talking about children so early on would frighten harry, but with her.. it just seems so normal. he can talk about their nonexistent babies and actually picture their family; curly brown haired babies with harrys green eyes but their mothers face.
“me? y’know your gonna be much worse. i can already see you freaking out.” she tiredly laughs, images of harry frightened when her water breaks, or when their baby takes a small little tumble that wouldn’t leave more than just a tiny scratch.
harry laughs, “your not completely wrong.”
“is bo asleep?” harry asks, watching y/n’s eyes shoot awake. he feels bad, she almost succumbed to her much needed slumber, but harry wasn’t done talking to her.
“umm,” she says, sitting up to look a bo, who is nuzzled comfortably into harrys pillow, soft meows involuntarily leaving her.
“look at her.” y/n coos, moving the camera so harry can see bo.
“awhh, she’s adorable. i can’t wait to meet her. will you send me photos?” harry says. as soon as he’s up tomorrow, he’s gonna show all the crew members their newest addition.
“mhmm.. i already have a photo album for her.”
her words are lazier, indicating harry should let her sleep now, much to his dissatisfaction.
“alright baby, it’s been good talking to you, but I think you need to sleep now.” harry smiles, causing y/n to groan, “m’sorry i couldn’t talk long..will you stay on the phone?”
harry shakes his head, “think we both know that only ends with me talking off y’ear love. you can call me when you wake up.” he says.
y/n frowns, but nods. “g’night harry, i love you. bo loves you.”
“night, love you both, sending my kisses.” he says, finally signing off when y/n blows him a kiss.
thank you so much for reading! ☕️ 🤍
requests are always open!
-fic rec masterlist-
#harry styles#harry styles fluff#harry styles blurb#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles x reader#boyfriend!harry#harry kitten#harry fanfiction#harry x reader#harrys house#harrystylesfluff#harry styles drabble#harry styles fic#one direction fanfiction#harry styles concept#harry styles x you#harry styles one shot#harry styles x fem!reader#harry styles fanfic
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Don't Stand So Close To Me — Chapter 14
Eddie x Teacher!Reader
Chapter 14/? 18k. Series Masterlist
✏︎ An invitation to The Hideout answers some long burning questions.
✏︎ Series Summary: Forced to move back home to Hawkins after your fiancé cheats on you, you begin to fall in love again with an audacious 20 year old metalhead, only there’s one problem — he’s still in high school and you’re his English teacher.
While you struggle starting over in a place you never thought you would return, Eddie struggles feeling stuck in a place he can’t manage to leave — until you offer to help him. Of all the lessons learned, the most important are the ones you teach each other.
✏︎ Series CW: forbidden romance, slow burn, true love, smut (18+ mdni), internal conflict, student-teacher relationship, 10 year age gap, mutual pining, sexual tension, emotions, drama, angst, character development, happy ending :)
Chapter CW: kissing, heavy petting, jealousy, protective!eddie, drinking, smoking, fluff
Tuesday, December 10th 1985
Winter crept in like a lamb. It nipped at your ankles when you got out of bed, beckoned you to hibernate in the warm cocoon of soft sheets and heavy blankets. The room was a lightless cave, the sky still as dense as midnight. Feet shuffling blindly at the floor to find your slippers, you clicked on the small lamp atop your nightstand to offer some light to your habitat.
Standard routine — making shadows on the wall as you brushed your teeth, emerging out the door to the dark hallway, squinting under the harsh light of your kitchen. Two eggs over easy. Two pieces of toast. One phone that hung to the right of your small kitchen table like an omen as you dipped the crust into the yolks. Looming. Waiting. You swallowed a feeling with your next sip of coffee; flutters that danced down your throat and settled in the pit of your stomach.
By the time you returned to your bedroom, the sky touched your sheer curtains with the palest blue. Your clothing was already laid out neatly on your dresser, poised like soldiers in a row — thick ribbed stockings; plaid wool skirt; stiff white blouse; cream knit sweater.
As you suited up, stripping yourself of warm pajamas to brace the chill of your formal attire, your eyes drifted to an object on your desk. Powder blue and collecting a fair amount of dust; an IBM Selectric II typewriter. It was more or less a decoration now, pushed against the wall to make room for piles of papers in need of grading. Still, you liked the way it looked; cheery against the drab apartment wall, like something a real writer would have.
It was a trusty old thing, still chugging along despite countless college essays hammered into the grey keys. It had been your only company in the wee hours of many mornings such as this one, only then there had not been sleep to separate you from the night before. Sturdy and dependable, it captured your imagination too, letter by black inked letter.
Fastening the buttons of your blouse in a methodical rhythm, you could almost trick yourself into believing it was any other morning, except today there was something else you needed to do before you left, and the clock on your nightstand let you know in glowing red that your window to do so was closing.
Cold linoleum creaked under your stocking feet as you padded into the kitchen, stomach twisting into knots as you approached the phone. If you were going to do this, it had to be now.
Running your finger down the laminated tabs of the well-loved address book on your counter, you flipped to the section labeled “J”. After scanning a dozen hand-written names, you found the one you were looking for. It was a mess of chalky white-out and hasty scribbles. Last name replaced, same with the phone number and address. You weren’t sure why you didn’t just write it all fresh under “P”, perhaps it was something about not wanting to erase the history entirely.
You took a deep breath and snatched the phone off the receiver. Pressing the cold plastic to your ear, you glanced down at the numbers in blue pen and whispered them quietly to yourself as you slowly, hesitantly, clicked them one by one into the cream button pad on the wall.
You stared across the kitchen in sober contemplation of your life choices as the phone rang. Again. And again. And again, until a familiar, groggy voice answered.
“Hello?”
“Hey! Janet!” you greeted brightly, sounding far too awake for 7:06 AM. In your nervous haste, you almost forgot to tell her who was calling.
“Oh… hey there,” came a hesitant voice on the other line, a sharp squeal cut through the static followed by a hush.
“Hey, um, I know it’s like, super early and totally last minute but I wanted to catch you before I left for work. Listen, I’ve had a hell of a week already and I was wondering—and I totally get it if you can’t, but—well I was wondering if you’d be up for going out tonight. Like say around eight-ish?” You bit your lip and grimaced, twisting the gummy cord around your finger.
The pause was filled with the rattling of tiny fists against plastic. “Oh! Well let’s see,” she said in a voice that was suddenly very awake. “The kids will be asleep by then, or at least they should be,” she chuckled, “and Bob doesn’t go to bed till after eleven anyway, so I’m sure he’ll be fine if I escape for a few hours. I mean I’ll check with him but I really don’t see why not.”
It was equally as promising as it was a relief; the excitement that crept through her voice.
“Great! Yeah, I figured you could probably use a night out.”
“Oh gosh, you don’t even know the half of it,” Janet laughed. “So where were you thinking? You wanna just go to Pal-Joeys again?”
Pacing toward the counter, you braced to offer your suggestion. “Actually, I was thinking we could go to The Hideout, I hear there’s a band playing tonight.”
“The Hideout?” she asked through an incredulous smile.
“I know,” you breathed nervously, “it’s not really our um, regular haunt, but that’s kinda why I want to go, you know? Shake things up a bit. Everything’s just been feeling so… routine lately, you know?”
Janet’s sigh was deep and heavy. “Oh trust me, I know.” A bright coo crackled through the telephone line.
“Like, I kind of want to just…” you coiled your finger deeper into the phone cord, glancing at the glaring red clock above the stove, “I dunno…pretend to be somebody else for a change.”
“You know,” she started, a quiet mischief creeping into her voice, “I could really stand to be somebody else for a night too.”
You paused in your pacing as a smile cracked across your face. “Glad we’re on the same page.”
“Gosh, do you know your birthday was the last time I went out? Seriously! And before that I don’t even remember. Sometimes I look around and it’s like, man I used to be fun. You remember when I was fun, right?”
You chuckled, drifting back to memories of truths and dares, of creeping down her dark basement steps with freshly painted toes. “You still are fun, Janet.”
“Well maybe you can help remind me because sometimes I look in the mirror and I swear I don’t even recognize myself. Really! I swear I see my mother more and more and that’s what’s really terrifying.”
“You mean you don’t see Bloody Mary anymore?”
Janet’s cackle would have woken the whole house had it not been wide awake and eating Cheerios already. “No that’s just at my parents’ house, remember?”
You snorted, leaning back against the counter. “I think we screamed so loud we woke the neighbors. I swear that bathroom is haunted.”
“That’s what I’ve always said! You feel like you’re being watched, right? My parents still don’t believe me. Oh well, not my problem anymore.”
You laughed, the knot in your belly releasing slightly before you glanced at the clock again, 7:13. “Crap, I’ve gotta get going. So I’ll see you at eight tonight? At The Hideout?”
“Yeah, should be fine. I’ll call you if anything changes. Ah!” she squealed, “I can’t wait.”
“Glad you’re excited,” you chuckled, gripping the smooth plastic. “Ok, see you later.”
“Bye now!”
You hung the phone back on the receiver and stood in the blaring silence of your kitchen, frozen by the impact of your choices. It was real now. In a matter of about thirteen hours you would be getting in your car, driving down a dark road, and parking it at a seedy bar where you would see Eddie for the first time in public. Your feet felt glued to the floor, but as the clock blinked to 7:15, you willed them to move.
Before taking the dark road that led to a seedy bar, you would first need to get in your car and take another road — to work.
You cursed the cold. Cursed it as you hurried across the parking lot to find your car covered in fractals of frost. Cursed it vehemently as you worked the glass with your feeble plastic scraper, shaving holes just big enough to see out of your dashboard and rear window as the clock on your wrist ticked on minute by precious minute. You cursed it audibly when you turned the key and the engine whirred, and whined, and refused to turn over. It must have heard you, because after the fifth time of stomping on the brake and snapping your wrist forward, the engine roared to life.
You rode in on a wave; a daze like the fog that escaped your lungs in shallow breaths. The sun rose above the frozen farmlands, casting its golden-pink light across the empty fields. Out here the roads stretched on for miles. Flat and straight, with little variance in elevation. There was nowhere to look but straight ahead. No curves to surprise you, just you and the rumble of the salt-dusted road, bumping along in silence as an anxious fog rolled across the landscape of your mind.
A sea of students swept you through the front doors of Hawkins High and into the bustling office. Amidst the flurry of ringing phones and voices settling into the cadence of their roles, you grabbed your punch card and stamped the date and time in line with the rest. Pushing the metal handle of the heavy glass door, you exited the humming reprieve of the office and into the din of the main hall. Your boots made hollow clicks against the glossy tile, wind at your face as you marched forward, dodging roughhousing students and hall monitors rushing toward them.
Goodness was a mantle. A strap that dug into your shoulder; heavy with books, and papers, and responsibility. You wedged your thumb beneath it, shrugging it up onto the padded wool collar of your coat as you strode on, vision locked ahead as chaos swirled around you.
Your mug left a ring on the big desk; a remnant from where you’d sloshed it coming down the hall. You’d tried to be careful; slow and deliberate in your pacing when you left the teachers lounge with it, but when a blur of wild curls drew your gaze, your footing faltered. At least you missed your shoes.
Coat hung on its solitary hook and grade book stationed at the center of the desk, you took your place in front of it. Clutching your clipboard, you glanced across the rows of desks, down at the rows of names, beside the rows of boxes that your green pen would fill with neat little P’s and A’s like it did every day. Bell after bell, swipe after swipe of your eraser at the board, the fresh sticks of chalk dwindled to nubs. Question after question, the patience in your voice grew thin.
Between the bells at the top of fourth period, you stood poised like a sentinel outside the door to your classroom. Arms folded across your knit sweater, you sighed, shifting your weight back and forth between your tired feet, offering gentle smiles as your students filed through the threshold of the door. You smelled him before you saw him; the waft of leather and cigarettes with notes of shampoo more prominent than usual.
Against the flow of traffic, Eddie Munson brought his salt-licked combat boots to a halt in front of you. Thumb hooked under the heavy strap of his backpack, he offered you a smile so broad it crinkled the corners of his eyes and made your knees want to give.
You tightened your arms around your sweater, over the hard plastic of your faculty lanyard, and breathed a shy, girlish greeting. “Hey.”
“Hey,” he mimicked, shifting his weight with a less than subtle restlessness as his dark eyes drank you in. They darted back and forth between yours, plush lips parted and primed with words. You felt them brimming impatiently behind his eyes, saw them in the pink flash of his tongue as it darted out to wet his lips.
Out here in the bustling hallway, with eyes that watched and voices that echoed off the polished tile, Eddie edged a bold foot closer, dove in, and ghosted the shell of your ear with his burning question.
“Will I see you tonight?”
The words were a low, hot rumble — rippling from your ear down your spine, pooling deep in your belly. His heat thawed your shoulder as he hovered there, lingering for each aching second it took you to eke out your response.
“Yeah,” you whispered into his curls.
Pulling back with a blinding grin, he tipped his head and ducked into the door of your classroom.
The slam of a locker made you jump. Arms crossed to shield your pounding heart, you stood there in the middle of it all, swimming in a sea of passing bodies, struggling to keep your head above the waves. It surged with images of a lighted stage, of bottles, and tables, and a dark corner for both of you to hide in. The bell echoed loudly down the hall, shrill enough to wake you from the dream you were surely having. Donning your mask, you took a deep breath and dove in, shutting the door behind you.
______
Eddie swung open the heavy back doors to his van, piercing the darkness with the dull yellow overhead light. Gravel crunched under his boots as he leaned in to grab the first amp from the stack, like a pile of black Christmas presents awaiting unwrapping. The night air bit at his fingers, stars twinkling in the patches where the clouds gave way above the tree line. Tightening his grip around the thick gummy handle, he hoisted it and followed the pale path the moon offered out of the side parking lot toward the patio behind The Hideout.
It wasn’t much; a stout fence in dire need of a paint job that caged in a few meager picnic tables. They still had umbrellas in the middle, wrapped tightly like mummies for the winter. He knew the back door would be open, it always was. Turning the weathered knob with his free hand, he welcomed the heat that wafted toward him. He could almost say he welcomed the piss smell coming from the bathrooms as his heavy boots thumped down the dark linoleum hallway, but that would be a stretch. Accustomed was a better word. Familiar was a better word.
Stale beer and cigarettes soon drowned it out as he entered the dimly lit bar, stopping to plunk the heavy amp down to his left on the stage, which was little more than a raised platform painted black. The thud drew the attention of the five usual suspects at the bar, and Eddie wondered which one of them was responsible for playing “Free Bird” on the jukebox.
Bill raised his hand, tipping his baseball cap back in a friendly nod as his fingers splayed. “‘Ey, Eddie!”
He returned the gesture of a single raised hand and flashed a smile before turning down the hall again. Eddie took a deep breath at the door to calm his pounding heart before pressing it open. He couldn’t believe he had been crazy enough to suggest something like this. That soon enough, you would be perched atop one of those rickety stools at a tall, sticky table, watching his every move, listening to his every note. The chill of the night air was a welcome thing, sobering and distracting from the heat that was creeping up the collar of his thick, leather coat. As the gravel crunched under his boots again, headlights blinded his vision.
He could hear the bass pounding from the outside of the small sedan as it rolled up beside his van, followed promptly by another. After a moment of squinting, the headlights shut off with the rumble of the engine, leaving him in the darkness once again. Seatbelts clicked and laughter emerged from the open doors as his friends tumbled out into the parking lot.
“What the fuck took you guys so long? We left at the same time,” Eddie groused.
Dave lumbered over and sighed, a smirk playing on his broad features in the moonlight. “Jeff had to take a shit and he parked me in.”
Jeff rolled his eyes, swinging the door shut with a huff as Gareth laughed into the night air.
Eddie sighed, glancing toward the tall stack of amps and drum heads sitting backlit in the rear of his van. “Ok, well we’ve got like forty minutes to get our shit together so start hauling.”
Dave groaned, cracking his back with a twist of his hefty torso. “Ugh, can you at least let me hit this doob before you put me to work?”
On any other night, Eddie would have welcomed the suggestion, but his nerves were traveling to his hands now and he itched to move them. “Dude, it takes us like an hour to set up, we don’t have time right now. We can smoke after we get this shit on stage.”
Jeff quirked his brows suspiciously, “Dude, since when do you care that we’re on time for anything?”
“Yeah seriously, we’re late like every week,” Gareth added.
Eddie balked, searching for the answer in the treeline, one that excluded you. “It just—if we’re ever gonna play anywhere else besides here we’re gonna have to start getting our shit together.”
There was a lukewarm pause as the band considered his answer. By the looks on their faces, Eddie wasn’t entirely sure if they bought it, but it was the best he could come up with and the statement was true. Dave broke the silence with an exasperated sigh. “Come on. I’ve been jonesing since we got to Gareth’s. His mom is so anal we can’t even smoke outside.”
“That’s ‘cause you reek when you come back in,” Gareth defended.
“At least I don’t reek of ass like you,” Dave chortled.
Jeff didn’t miss a beat. “That’s debatable.”
Gareth’s cackle wafted into the frigid air as he pointed a pale finger at Dave.
“You wanna find out the hard way?” Dave’s eyes glimmered wildly as he hooked an arm around Gareth’s shoulders, locking him into a power noogie position.
Gravel shuffled under their stumbling feet. “Let go of me you asshole,” Gareth gritted through a strangled laugh. Jeff only egged them on, howling uproariously like he had tickets to the show.
Eddie dragged his hands down his face with a deep, seething breath as Dave ground his thick knuckles into Gareth’s mop of hair, kicking up rocks and pivoting as Gareth attempted to pry away. This was his circus, his monkeys, and he would have to step up and be the ring leader if they were going to take the stage at all tonight. “CUT IT OUT!” he hollered.
Dave paused, arm still locked around Gareth’s neck. “Come on, we’re just having a little fun. You remember fun, right?”
Gareth groaned weakly, looking up at Eddie with pathetic eyes. “Who’s we?” he choked.
Eddie’s expression didn’t budge from its scowl. With a roll of his eyes and a resigned huff, Dave released his arm and Gareth stumbled backward, gasping. “Fine, captain killjoy.”
A heavy plume of fog left his nostrils as Eddie stormed toward the back of his van, weaving his arm through a thick ring of cables to rest on his shoulder before hoisting another amp from the stack. Gravel shuffled behind him as the others followed suit.
You were risking a lot to come here. The last thing he wanted to do was disappoint you.
______
The silence gnawed at you, filled you with an itching discomfort as you thumbed your dresser knobs. Staring into your open shirt drawer, you faced off with your biggest decision yet — what to wear tonight.
The chasm of options laid before you in neat, folded rows. An excavation site of cardigans, and turtle necks, and things you hadn’t unearthed in years. You ran your fingers through the layers of folded cotton, peeling them back with deep consideration.
Nagging thoughts crept in like whispers over the softly ticking clock, pinball plunger pulled and ready to fire. With a determined huff, you stepped back from your dresser and padded down the hallway, out into the living room.
Your skirt pooled around your stocking feet as you crouched down in front of the long wooden cabinet that housed your records. Fingers dancing over the worn cardboard spines, you flipped them softly forward as you perused one by one, walking steadily until one of them fell open to a scene; a painting of a man hunched over with sticks tied to his back that hung on a wall of peeling paper. You paused, pulling it out to scan the track list. This would do.
Placing the the record softly on the felt pad, you lowered the needle to the ridges, and with the press of a button, a crackle roused the room.
Hey hey momma said the way you move
Gonna make you sweat, gonna make you groove
A smile, like a crocus peeking up from the snow, bloomed across your face. You cranked the volume, wrapping yourself in a sound that would carry to your bedroom.
Your fingers found the tiny metal tab behind your waist, and with a downward tug of the zipper, your wool skirt became a puddle on the floor. Peeling back the layers, your tight sweater joined it in a heap, your thick stockings lay deflated on the pile, the buttons of your stiff blouse worked free until it was a crumpled afterthought. The chill that kissed your skin was a welcome thing. Goosebumps raised like the current flowing through you as your near-naked silhouette danced across the wall to approach the open drawer once more.
Emboldened with a curious delight, you began to dig. Past the crust of crisp blouses, beneath the squishy mid-layer of cardigans, down into the sub-layer of camisoles and tees, deeper and deeper until finally your fingers made purchase with a soft treasure.
It fell open as you unearthed it, the solid black gone grey from washing, the white letters and arched angel cracked and faded: Led Zeppelin — United States of America 1977.
It happened on a Sunday in April, which began as most Sundays did, with you hunched over your powder blue typewriter in a race between the clock and the keys. You had it down to a science. At the speed you were typing, a rough draft could be finished by dinner, and the final could be churned out by cutting into a few hours of your sleep. A worthy sacrifice, as your final grade was on the finish line. This, like countless others, was how you planned to spend your day — until your roommate found you.
You remembered the way she leaned against the wooden frame of your bunk bed, amused, watching the paper you hammered with black-inked letters grow longer and longer. Finally she spilled it; as of an hour ago, she was down one boyfriend and up one ticket, and now it had your name on it. When she dangled it between you and the tidy rows of text, your hands froze over the keys.
You eyed the invitation — temptation printed on a neat, orange strip. Free admission, at a price.
The show was sold out. It had been for a long time.
Your class was at 9:00 AM tomorrow. A late paper took twenty percent off your grade.
You loved the band dearly, had a bigger crush on Robert Plant than you’d openly admit to anyone. Fights had broken out over tickets nation wide. You had no idea when they would play the states again.
The clock ticked on beside you, the long hand grazed past three. Maybe you could churn out the rest in the next few hours. Maybe the rough draft would be enough. But the realist in you knew neither would happen if you seized the ticket. Your grade would never recover, your streak of straight As you’d kept since grade school would come to an end. Your GPA would dip for the semester.
On April 17th, 1977, you left your paper sitting unfinished in the typewriter to see Led Zeppelin play Market Square Arena. You didn’t know it then, but it was the last time they ever would.
On April 18th at 9:00 AM, you showed up to class with empty hands and a brand new shirt.
You had altered your souvenir; taken scissors to the collar so that it draped off your shoulder. Time and your washing machine had made Swiss cheese of the bottom hem, so you cropped it. You admired the handiwork as it draped off you now, the way the black strap of your bra peeked out from the slope of your shoulder like a coy secret.
Pulling open the lower drawer—opened far less frequently than you would like—your knuckles grazed the bottom of the smooth wood interior as you peeled back the layers of folded denim. A crease of black jumped out from the sea of blue, and you examined it. It had a nice worn-in fade for only having lived in your dresser a few years, a flatteringly high waist, and most importantly, tapered legs that could easily be tucked into the tall, black boots sitting in the back of your closet. Your bare legs welcomed the barrier against the chill, and you caught a glance at your rear as you hiked them snugly upward. They hugged you in all the right places, as the music electrified the air, you transformed.
A vision of you — sprawled across a blanket on the quad with your face in a book. Making shadows on your dorm room wall while transmuting fantasies to black-inked pages. Strolling down a lamp-lit street, face to the stars, fueling your wild imagination. Here, in your reflection, the ghost of you looked back.
You painted her darker than normal, swapping the usual chapstick for a deep, dusty red exhumed from the bottom of your makeup bag. Eyes smoked and cheeks dusted, you drew out the beauty from angles of your face with every stroke.
Coat donned and purse in hand, you paused at the front door, glancing over your shoulder, down the hallway, toward your coffee table piled with papers. There was another ghost of you here — tucked into her slippers and cozy robe with the voices from the television as her only company, flicking her green grading pen down rows of questions.
On December 10th, 1985, you left the papers sitting on your coffee table to see Corroded Coffin play The Hideout. With a decided twist of the handle, you pushed out into the cold night air.
Light pooled in sparse puddles as your boots echoed off the rough pavement. Stillness whispered on the wind as crisp remnants of fall scuttled across the asphalt. The apartments behind you were a tapestry of glowing squares, pictures of the rest of Hawkins tucking into their slippers and washing their dishes, grabbing their blankets and turning on their televisions.
You grabbed your keys and unlocked your car, and when it roared to life with a swift flick of your wrist, a strange exhilaration coursed through you.
It rose like the moon over the barren fields, thrumming in your chest, spreading to your limbs, alight with something wild and teeming as you drove past rows of lighted windows—vignettes of tired routine—and stopped at the same red sign you did this morning. Your fingers twitched over the turn signal leaver — an impulse to flick up, to turn right, to settle into the familiar rhythm of your muscle memory. This time you pressed down, pressed your foot to the gas, and cranked the wheel left.
Cruising boldly down the straight and narrow road, fields and farmland faded in your rearview mirror and soon there were trees on the horizon; dense and dark. Gripping the wheel as the silhouette closed in, the corners of your mouth drew upward, pulled by a wild, awakened force. Headlights illuminated pale, naked limbs. Eyes beamed back at you from the shadows. You cranked the volume on your stereo, and as you braced for your first bend, something deep within you—dormant and restless—howled.
______
The water was so cold it burned. Eddie cursed the old plumbing, instantly regretting having the decency to wash his hands in the first place. Soap just barely rinsed, he twisted the lime-scaled handles and shut it off. With a trembling hand, he grabbed one of the last paper towels. Gareth’s kick drum echoed down the narrow hallway, thundering just like his chest. He glanced at his watch again. 7:56.
Eddie took a ragged breath, chucking the crumpled paper at the overflowing trash bin in the corner. It bounced dejectedly off the wall and onto the dirty tile. With a deadpan glare, he left it where it lay. Hands barely dry, he felt for the flask in his pocket. Screwing the tiny cap and flicking it open, he tipped it back. Eddie welcomed the burn. It chased down his throat and settled in his stomach with a warmth that radiated, instantly numbing his nerves.
Meeting his own eyes in the tiny, smudged mirror, he gave himself a final glance over. His curls were holding; fresh and clean from this morning, fluffed by the icy wind in the trips from van to stage.
Here, in the dingy confines of The Hideout, words like freak and loser lost their stick. Words he could shake like a dog at the door. He’d fashioned them like armor in the daytime; a shield in hallways and in lunch lines. What was stickier were feelings. The feelings that came with chewed pens and answers left blank. The feeling of lectures slipping like a sieve through his brain. The feeling of stares and stifled laughter, of staring numbly at the board, of filling the silence with bullshit instead of an answer.
Microphone feedback squeaked outside. The dull, heavy walk of a bassline. Laughter. Cymbals. That kick drum again. Eddie took another swig, searing the flutters in his stomach.
He wanted to be good for you. Seen under stage lights instead of fluorescents.
Good like an answer he knew.
-
You saw the sign first, peeking from behind the trees — simple, effective, and yellowed with time. The Hideout: a hole in the woods. Tucked around the bend you now braced against, it sat like a neon beacon. The chipped, grey exterior faded into the shadows, leaving only the holy glow of Budweiser and Miller Lite signs to guide you to the promised land.
Pulling into a spot along the narrow parking strip, you faced off with your destination. Looming and real. Frozen as reality stared back at you in the glare of your blinding headlights, you gripped the steering wheel and looked around. There were a few other cars beside you, but none of them Janet’s. Around the left of the building there appeared to be more parking, and the stout silhouette of a two-tone van you did know the owner of. Pinballs hammered in your chest.
When you arrange a time to meet someone, you are always punctual. Perhaps a life organized by bells on timers trained you to be this way, but the thought of entering alone filled you with dread, and part of you wondered whether you should wait out here for her. Your hands were starting to shake, and not from the cold.
The list of crazy things you had done in your life was a laughably short one, but this made the top by a long shot. As you turned the radio down and sat in the wake of your rumbling engine, the questions grew louder. Serious questions about where you thought this night would go, about where you wanted it to go and if you would truly go there.
Suddenly your headlights felt too bright, like a beacon drawing eyes from the woods, or even more terrifying, eyes from the building. You promptly flicked them off and waited, staring dead ahead at the chipped grey siding. It was fine. You were fine. At least you could no longer see your breath. You could hide here as long as you wanted.
-
“Alright man, it’s doob o’clock,” Dave said with a satisfied stretch as he took in the stage setup.
Eddie ripped another frantically scribbled setlist out of his spiral notebook and shoved it at him. “No it’s eight fifteen and we still need to do soundcheck,” Eddie scathed, glancing at the door. “You can start by plugging your mic in, Jesus Christ.”
Dave huffed annoyedly through his nose, squatting down to find the cord with exaggerated difficulty. “Yes sir,” he mocked. Eddie shot back a testing glare. “Dude, what’s up with you tonight? You’ve been on one since Gareth’s.”
“Yeah, you ok man?” asked Jeff.
The knots tightened in his stomach as the attention of all three of them closed in around him. “Just—let’s just get our shit together…please,” he deflected.
-
Glancing around frantically, you wondered, for the hundredth time, where the hell Janet was. You couldn’t be that surprised that a woman with two small children was late, but your exhaust was making a smokescreen of the parking strip, and you wondered if anyone inside had noticed, if anyone could hear the low rumble of your engine and questioned why this strange woman was idling. With an irritated sigh, you turned the key, leaving you in deafening silence and leeching cold. You could hear your breathing now, your pounding heart, the squeaking of leather as you shifted in your seat. What one of the kids got sick? What if she called after you left?
What if she isn’t coming?
Eddie’s eyes lingered at the door as he clicked the pedals with his feet, plucking a soft, testing melody into the mic. His watch glared under the stage lights, confidence fleeting with every minute that ticked by. Gareth snapped his foot petal with a deep thud. Dave walked out a bassline before squealing feedback made the whole bar flinch.
The strum of a chord made you jump. Booming and electric, you heard it through the walls. They were starting. They were starting and you weren’t there. Gripping the steering wheel, you tossed your head back in an anguished sigh. You sure as hell weren’t going to stand him up. As you glanced around the parking lot one last desperate time, the bitter conclusion rose like bile — you may have to do this alone. Seatbelt clicking under your gloved thumb, you steeled yourself for the cold, for the eyes of strangers in a strange new place. With a decided pull of the handle, the door opened to the frigid night air, and you emerged from the heat into the unknown.
You met your reflection in the glass of the entrance as your hand gripped the weathered knob. Pinballs fired off at lightning speed — a jackpot multi-ball bonanza. Checking your hair one last time with eyes locked on your own, you turned the handle with a determined sigh.
A bell dinged above your head, and winter’s chill gusted in on your heels.
The whole room turned at once — at you. You, from the front of the classroom. You, from behind the big desk. You, in the doorway of The Hideout. Across a dark sea of scattered tables, poised on an altar of sound and light, Eddie Munson smiled at you — brighter than all of it.
The door fell shut behind you. Hot under the gaze of what seemed like the entire bar, it suddenly felt like you were the one on stage. Standing there like a deer in headlights in your long wool coat and clean black boots, you surely must have looked as out of place as you felt. Shoulders rolling back to counter your thrumming nerves, your boots left the rug and found the tacky linoleum as you approached the bar that lined the left wall.
Eddie busied his shaking hands with tapping another test melody into his mic, pausing when he heard a voice over his right shoulder.
“Is that…?” Jeff pointed toward the back of your head.
Gareth’s eyes lit up in recognition. Dave peered over with a shit-eating grin. “Did you invite her?” he mouthed.
Eddie’s face betrayed him, burning like it did under the fluorescents. Burning to greet you at the bar, for the liberty to patronize it, to offer you something more than his aching gaze.
“No,” Eddie lied, “but I may have told her we play here on Tuesdays.” He struck the strings with the weight of his frustration, drowning out any further questions with the opening chords to the first song on the setlist. The others took their cue with chuckles and shaking heads. Heart pounding like the kick drum behind him, Eddie’s fingers found the frets, tugging a muscle memory from deep within as his eyes stayed fixed on you.
There was an older man in a sweatshirt behind the bar. The owner, you figured, by the way he was standing — arms crossed, stance wide, unafraid to take up space. By the way he was looking at you, like he wondered what would drive a new face to his establishment on a random Tuesday night in December. From the glances the others passed between them, the feeling seemed unanimous.
“How can I help you?” he half shouted against the chugging chords, leaning against the bar with a curious smile.
You braced with your brightest grin, placing your gloved hands down flat on the waxy bar. “Hi! Yes—um,” you scanned the selection under the neon lights, the liquor bottles of all shapes and sizes reflected in the dirty mirror behind them. The bar back was tightly cluttered with old stickers and hand-written notes taped behind the cash register, with half-empty bottles of bitters and bobble heads nodding to the palpable vibration. Having no interest in standing there awkwardly while he fixed you a cocktail, you selected a bottle of Coors.
He nodded and ducked to open the steel, magnet-plastered fridge beneath the cash register.
Your gaze, like a magnet, drew back to the stage. It was all you could do just to watch him — the way his curls fell gently at his cheek, the way they bounced with every strum. There was a tension lingering just under the curve of his lashes. The music was fast and loud, purely instrumental. You recognized nothing about it but the genre. Head dipped in concentration as his left hand tapped a frantic melody into the frets, he raised his eyes bravely to meet yours.
He wasn’t the only man staring. It was hard to ignore; the man in the baseball cap to your right as you stared right through his line of sight. You pinched off your gloves and shoved them in your pockets to occupy your hands.
A bottle cap plinked against the bar top. “Two bucks,” the owner stated, slinging a towel over his shoulder.
You fished through your purse, feeling those eyes on you as you opened your wallet, as you slid the bills right under his gaze across the waxy counter. You snatched the cold bottle and raised it to your lips. Turning over your shoulder, your eyes clung to Eddie on stage, to his tendons as they flexed to pick a rhythm at the strings. His was gaze a soft and yearning thing, a contrast to the sharp and punchy chords that left his fingers.
“You know these guys?” the man in the cap asked finally, pointing to the stage. Your eyes shot toward him in surprise, lips still pursed at the bottle. He had that working man sort of look. Average features, subtle crows feet, a whisper of sandy stubble across his strong jaw. His grey-blue eyes were gentle, but brimming with a heated curiosity.
You used the much needed swig to buy yourself a second. Did you? The cold, bready fizz sparkled down your throat. You supposed you didn’t have to specify how you were acquainted. “Yeah,” you answered simply, plugging your mouth with the bottle like a dam.
A bell rattled behind you. Grateful for any disruption, you whipped around quickly to break the connection. Janet lit up as soon as she saw you, a mixture of relief and apology playing out on her face as she strode across the room. Tight blonde curls emerged from her lowering leopard print hood. “Oh my god I’m so sorry,” she lamented, arms opening to embrace you.
Relief washed through you like a warm buzz. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it!” you said as your nose took a dive in her soft, perfumed curls.
“Sarah would not stop crying, it took forever for me to finally get her to sleep. I swear babies have a sixth sense, they always know when you have fun plans,” she said through a laugh. Her lashes were long and thick with mascara, eyeshadow a solid sky blue so vibrant that it popped even in the dim neon glow.
Janet ordered a margarita. There was nothing new to speak of, really, over the electric roar of the band, but you tried to listen. Intently, you tried to listen to the new words her son was saying, to offer some lukewarm update about how work was going, but your eyes had their own agenda.
The rolled cuffs of Eddie’s tight, acid-washed jeans bunched against the pull tabs of his boots as he tapped the rhythm with his heel. There was no jacket for him to strain against, no flannel to constrict him, no sleeves on his T-shirt in December. It was more than you’d seen of him yet. Ink flexed with each generous swell of his bicep, and with every attack, he would flash you his ribs through the hand-hacked holes.
“Mmm,” Janet mumbled, sipping off the top of the very full, salt-rimmed rocks glass. “Come on, let’s get cozy,” she said with a wink and gestured toward the tables. The air was thick with smoke wafting from the bikers at the bar. Eddie tapped out another lick and peered through a few stray curls as you followed her across the room to a high top, back and center.
You wanted to be closer. Close enough to see the umber of his eyes, the ridges of his knuckles as they plucked the strings. There were a few shorter tables down in front, back about five feet from the stage. But as the beams of light bounced off the glossy wood and over the seats in blinding white, you were grateful for the shadows ten feet would afford you.
Janet stripped off her coat to reveal a tight black dress with long sleeves and sequined, padded shoulders. It hugged just above the knees of her sheer hose, punctuated with sharp ankle boots.
“Look at you all dressed up! You look stunning.” You meant it, she really did.
Janet’s smile was a shy deflection, but hiding just beneath it, a glimmer of belief. “Thanks, this thing’s been sitting in my closet for like a year now. Can you believe it? I just felt like, you know, if I’m going out I’m gonna dress up goddamn it,” she laughed, punctuating with a slap against the table. “We coulda gone to Benny’s, I still woulda worn it.”
You laughed, for the first time since you’d talked to her that morning. Unbuttoning your coat, you let it drape over the metal back of the stool behind you.
“You’re not looking too shabby yourself,” Janet said with a wink before taking a sip.
“Honestly I’ll take any excuse I can get to dress down,” you said with a sheepish huff, propping your elbows on the sticky table before bringing the bottle to your lips.
A nervous crackle wound its way through Eddie’s stomach at the vision of you. You, perched on a stool in a dive bar. You, in jeans and a t-shirt. You, arching forward just enough to grace him with a sliver of your back. It was real — you, here. He soured a note, and those words he shook off came creeping back in as he fumbled through the next lick. But you didn’t seem to notice. You propped your cheek against your knuckles and let the warmth of your eyes usher his doubts away.
When the song came to a ringing conclusion, Janet’s cheer was uninhibited, clapping her hands above her head. It drew eyes from the couple seated at one of the lower tables, from the bikers at the bar, from the band. Your applause was more demure, but you couldn’t mask the brilliance of your smile.
“Thank you, thank you,” Eddie said into the microphone. “Looks like we really have a crowd tonight. Seven drunks.”
The room erupted with hollers and cheers.
The bassist muttered something to the other guitarist and the two shared a laugh, casting their eyes towards you. Suddenly your face grew very hot. Of course they recognized you, Jeff was in your second period class. You anticipated this, and yet it was the realness of it all that shook you — the hard stool beneath you, the stares you could feel as your finger idly traced the cold condensation on the glass. Pinballs fired off at rapid speed. You drowned them with a tip of the bottle.
Eddie shifted, clicking the pedals with his foot. “Ok, so this next one is uh, definitely not an original.” He breathed a laugh into the microphone, glancing up at you — at your shoulders, hunched in shy defense, at your worried brow and downcast gaze. He wished he could reach across the room, lift your chin with his words and draw you from your shell. “Anyway, you’ll uh, probably recognize this one,” he said, to you.
Eddie nodded to the band, counting off silently before they struck a chord together — a low, droning thing, gritty and slow as the bass walked steadily over the foundation. Eddie swayed back and forth, rocking in time with the beat like a march, resting his heavy-lidded gaze on you. Across the divide of scattered seats, you — at the small table, saw him — on the big stage. His nimble fingers struck the chords with an ardent conviction, and the ice in you began to thaw.
Suddenly the beat changed pace. Gareth smacked his drum sticks together to count off, and the first two chords sparked instant recognition. A smile rose up in you — a wild and thrumming thing, radiant and rising until it cracked through.
You knew what was coming. Two chords, quiet taps for a count of sixteen, and then those two chords again, like a one-two punch, booming and building with anticipation. Again, and again, as the energy rose in the room. You caught the wicked glint in his eyes as his hands—those hands that fidgeted and fumbled with dog-eared pages and chewed up pens—wielded power. A surge of electricity swirled through your stomach, crackled because you knew what was next.
Eddie took a deep breath, and opened his mouth.
Generals gathered in their masses
Colors. Warm and bright, tingling like a shockwave from your chest down to your seat.
Just like witches at black masses
In your secret daydreams, you often wondered what his voice sounded like in song.
Evil minds that plot destruction
Tried to guess from his deep hums and brilliant laughter.
Sorcerers of death’s construction
Now, it suspended in the air like a battle cry, reaching out across the chasm of tables and chairs.
In the fields the bodies burning
Surging like a wildfire.
As the war machine keeps turning
Swirling through the darkness like a strange magic.
Death and hatred to mankind
Reaching out like it wanted to touch you.
Poisoning their brainwashed minds
And so you let it.
Oh lord, yeah!
The music rocked and swelled. Like a balm reverberating through the air, it softened the hunch of your shoulders. Like an antidote, it dissolved the knot in your stomach. Like an arrow, it pierced the shell of you.
Janet took a generous sip of her margarita and bobbed her head to the rhythm. You caught her gaze from across the table and shared a laugh, a mutual knowing through squinted eyes and shaking heads that this was, in fact, a Tuesday night in December, and the two of you were here.
As the cold drink warmed your limbs, you became acquainted with the hard curve of the stool beneath you, with the of rings left behind on the glossy table, with the crowded ashtray. Acquainted with the smoke that wafted through the air and the darkness that enveloped you like a blanket. The music settled over the room, and as you settled into that heavy buzz, you started to get the feeling you might actually enjoy yourself tonight.
Janet needed no convincing. Her first margarita went down easy, leaving nothing but the ice and her hot pink lipstick on the rim before they finished their fourth song. When she returned from the bar with one in each hand, she placed the extra in front of you. Her treat, convinced they were better than Pal Joey’s, insisting that you try it even with a few sips still lingering in your bottle.
It surprised you — the balance of lime, and liquor, and something else you couldn’t quite place. It surprised you how it easy it melted the tension in your stomach, how it encouraged you to lean in a little more, to let your shoulders drop.
Eddie noticed it, peeking out from under the coyly dipping collar of your shirt; bare and soft as you leaned against the table — your shoulder. He missed a note. Cursing silently, he glanced down at his fingers and tapped into that deep, subconscious part of his brain again where they knew just where to go. But when he closed his eyes to find it, the image remained painted to his lids — a ripened fruit, tempting but too far to taste. Across it, a stripe of black hazard tape, a trail he itched to follow.
There was a hunger in you, stirring more with every song, with every decadent flash of his pale ribs. He was good. Stadium good. Those nimble fingers tapped the frets, making them sing in a way that made you wish you were wire and wood, looking at you in a way that made you think he wished the same. He stroked the neck of his instrument with a reverent touch, attacked the strings with a holy power, like a wingless angel with a spotlight halo. You whispered a silent prayer, venerating him from your faraway pew in the only way you could — with your eyes.
The animal stirred in its icy den, roused by the warmth of his voice as it stretched across the bar. It stirred in that place you rarely acknowledged, rarely indulged as you considered what other talents his hands might have. You considered the shades of those sighs and swallows he took before painting the air, considered what they might sound like if he showed you. It settled and throbbed in that low, blooming place, and you smothered the feeling with a cross of your legs.
Busying yourself with what remained of your beer, you shifted your shoulders to face him directly, leaning your free arm against the metal back of the stool with an ease that Eddie considered looked almost as good on you as the shirt did. Your lips lingered on the rim of the bottle before parting with a soft pop. He swallowed.
There was a gap between you; a sea of scattered tables and wide open ears and eyes amongst them. What could he possibly say from his position? From a microphone on stage? A thousand words ached on the tip of his tongue and he swallowed them with a sloppy chug of water as the applause bought him a moment to consider.
The white lettering across your chest jumped out at him from the shadows like a bright idea. Eddie swiped droplets from his mouth and turned to his bandmates, bringing them into a huddle as the noise drowned out what he was saying. Whatever it was, after some deliberation, they seemed in agreement about it.
You hadn’t seen Janet like this since the summer between your junior and senior year of college. She was always a happy drunk; talkative and bubbly, spilling over with laughter and the sort of wild enthusiasm that a child at a carnival might have.
“I wanna dance,” she said longingly, glancing toward the stage as she slumped in her seat.
“Maybe we can go to a club next time,” you joked as you downed the remainder of your sweating drink.
The band assumed their positions again. Eddie tapped the pedals with his feet and rolled his shoulders back with a deep, collecting breath. His eyes found yours across the room, brimming with such a longing you wondered anyone else could sense it too. After the longest second, he snapped his head over his shoulder with a steely conviction and nodded off a count before making his attack — the opening riff to Led Zeppelin’s “Whole Lotta Love”.
Your hands shot to your face.
Suddenly Janet perked up, inspired by the catchy rhythm and her own suggestion. “We should dance! Will you dance with me?”
You balked, shrinking down. “There’s like… six people here! I don’t think it’s really that kind of—”
“Oh come on, please? What’s there to lose, huh?”
Oh, only my last remaining shred of dignity in front of my students. But you couldn’t say that. “Janet,” you hissed. “We are not—I can’t—”
Her three margaritas had a different opinion. They reached across the table and grabbed your hand. “Come on, live a little! That’s what we came here to do, right?”
You buried your face in your other. The truth was you wanted to. You wanted a closeup of that smart smirk, of the sweat beading down his temple as he strummed the punchy chords he hand-picked just for you. You wanted the fantasy, the memory, the experience. It was convincing — her pouting pink lips and pleading eyes, almost as convincing as the tequila coursing through your veins. The truth was you left your better judgement at home on the coffee table. To her giddy satisfaction, you surrendered. Dragging you from your seat, she led you to the front of the stage.
Eddie’s smile could have blinded you, even through the shy web of your fingers. Cheers erupted from the bar, from the whole band, as Janet shimmied her sequined shoulders to the beat.
Eddie opened his mouth again, this time with an ardor you could feel in your bones.
You need cooling, baby I’m not fooling
He crouched down to level with your eyes. I’m gonna send ya back to schooling
You lowered your hand to mask the girlish grin that cracked across your face.
Way down inside, honey you need it
They were breathtaking up close — his eyes. Sparkling with an energy you’d never seen before. Rich umber alight with something you couldn’t quite place, too mesmerized by the promise his tongue wove through the air.
I’m gonna give you my love
I’m gonna give you my love… oh!
He straightened with a backward toss of his head, and you found the word you were looking for in the droplets that flung from his curls. Power.
Wanna whole lotta love?
Wanna whole lotta love?
Janet—having an absolute field day over the spectacle—offered you her hand like she wanted to tango. Freeing your face with a brave sigh, you accepted with a slap of your palm in hers. She tugged with a childish delight, and you took your cue — spinning into her waiting arm and shooting back out with a flourish dredged up from some long forgotten place. The room became a blur of sound and light, of cheers from the bar and the stage. You stilled to find your footing, landing on his eyes.
You’ve been learning, and baby I’ve been yearning
He dipped down again. All them good times baby, baby, I’ve been lear-er-nin’, he punctuated with a shake of his head. He could see the whole vision of you, bright and clear under the stage lights. A wildness lingering just behind your eyes, a fragment unseen until now. It pounded at the cage of your chest, rose up in the shallow breaths you caught before Janet snatched you away again. He swore—silently on a deep inhale—that he would do everything in his power to coax it out of you.
Way, way down inside, oh honey you need it
I’m gonna give you my love
I’m gonna give you my love
You couldn’t remember the last time you really danced. The last time you felt a rhythm with your body and followed its blind inspiration. No rhyme or reason, no plans or choreography. It felt awkward at first, like trying on skin fresh from the wash. Feeling your feet shuffle against the tacky linoleum, finding the rhythm of yourself with a room full of strangers as witness.
Somewhere between the beams of light and the wink of Eddie’s rings beneath them, you found it. Like a memory rising up, sweeping through you like a current. Visions of a stadium, roaring as a lion struts the stage with his golden mane, as he commands a sea of thousands with his voice. There was an animal in you too, wild and careless.
It grew wilder when the music dropped to nothing but percussion. When the room fell away to nothing but the heat from Eddie’s eyes, sparkling with play. It made your hips want to sway a little more, your legs want to dip a little deeper to match his wildness with your own. Imbued with a sudden, potent energy, he struck his wicked instrument as the rhythm and melody unraveled.
Janet took it in stride, leading you in a rocking shimmy as you swayed to the change in tempo. Light danced on her sequined shoulders as she tipped her head back in a blissful cackle. You followed her lead, eyes fixed on her with a surging power in the knowing of whose eyes were fixed on you.
The air was a cool kiss against the sliver of skin where your shirt left off, daring you to show a little more. With a twist of your arms toward the spotlights, you blessed him with the dip of your back — the alluring shadow of your spine that trailed into the high waist of your jeans. He panged with the urge to follow it, fell to his knees and wailed through his fingertips.
You broke from Janet’s pull to face him, eye-to-eye level, watching reverently as the sweat glistened in his clavicles, as his pelvis jutted into his weapon to eke out his solo. Howling for you with each stroke of its neck, each bend in its strings as you matched his rhythm with your hips. A secret world, just you and him, the rest fading out into nothing. He swore, like a spell in each note that he wove through the air, that somehow he would make it last.
From his knees, Eddie grabbed the mic off the stand, and with a wordless nod earned by years of friendship, Jeff took over the melody. To the delight of the crowd, he stripped himself of the weight of his instrument, setting it carefully off to the side.
You’ve been cooling, baby, I’ve been drooling, he crooned as he crawled forward.
All the good times, baby, I’ve been misusing
You played with him there. With your shoulders, with your eyes locked no more than a foot from his. Desperate to touch him, you worshiped every bead of sweat that fell from his temple, every wet curl that strayed from the nape of his neck and hugged the strong angle of his jaw. What left his lips next dripped with such fervent intention you that you couldn’t keep your hand from your face.
Way, way down inside
I’m gonna give you my love
I’m gonna give you every inch of my love
I’m gonna give you my love
He was pure energy; raw and manic. Free in the way that wild things are. He snatched your breath away, dragged it to his den and had his way with it as he queried the chorus to you. There was wildness all around; in glinting sequins and megawatt smiles. In the flashes of limbs under the lights. In the rhythm you carried with your whole body now, moving in a way that was both so foreign and natural all at once.
You wondered how it looked from the outside; you and him. From the bar it might have looked like drunk spontaneity. From the stage it might have looked like a stint of support for the arts. You wondered, with a twinge of fear, if the others could feel the longing too or if you had masked it well enough as a performance.
The music dropped out to make way for the final lyrics.
Way down inside, he belted into the silence, punctuating with a deep inhale. Woman, he shouted, locking eyes with you for a pregnant second as the world came to a halt, you need… he drew a deep breath in the space the two chords allowed him before wailing the final word at the ceiling — loooooooove!
You felt it with every cell of your body in one suspended moment. Felt—for the first time since you could vividly remember—truly and completely alive. With a crash of cymbals and an electric instrumental boom, the rhythm—and the world—reconstituted around you, swirling with a vibrant energy that swept you away.
His dark eyes opened with a wicked glint, and his next breath left his chest as a command.
Shake for me, girl. I wanna be your backdoor man!
You obeyed with a shimmy of your shoulders and the room went wild.
______
Janet left you with a tight, perfumed hug. A gentle reassurance that yes, she was fine to drive home. She left you in the vacuum of slamming guitar cases and distant voices as the jukebox picked up where the band left off. Left you to sober up to how idle and awkward you felt sitting at the table you once shared with her, picking at the peeling label on the wet, empty bottle.
When you heard footsteps approaching, a part of you was grateful for the prospect of someone—anyone—to talk to, though it wasn’t who you hoped. Instead, it was the man in the cap from the bar.
“Hey, love the shirt,” he remarked, glance lingering a little too long over the text across your chest.
“Thanks,” you said shyly, gaze drifting back to the bottle.
He stepped closer, setting his can on the table. “I take it you went to that concert?”
“I did, it was really last minute actually.” You told him the story. You told him with your words and gestures, twisting in the tall stool to face him, but it was Eddie that drew your eyes. Crouched down with one knee bent beneath him and the other straining against denim slits, he collected his pedals into a tiny, vintage suitcase. There were words coming out of your mouth, but faced with the rigid angles of his thighs, you were helpless but to stumble over some of them.
It was then that you noticed he had already been staring, though not at you, at Bill — with a simmer behind his eyes.
“Man, I woulda killed to go to that show. I was working a double when tickets went on sale and a buddy of mine said he was gonna camp overnight for us. Well, he ended up getting into a fight with his girlfriend and flaked out. ‘Course they were sold out and closed by the time I left work.”
You expressed your genuine sympathy.
“Boy I was pissed at him then, but even more pissed after Bonham died. Like damn, that was my last shot, man!”
“I’m sorry you had to miss it. It was quite the show.” You told him what you could remember. The setlist, the stage, what they wore.
Eddie watched closely, carefully darting between you amidst the gathering of cables and closing of metal latches. He watched your hands come to life like he loved so much, like you always did when you were explaining something with fond enthusiasm. Helplessly, he watched the way Bill leaned closer, the way his hand and forearm made themselves at home on your table. The simmer hissed and bubbled behind his eyes.
“Anyways, it’s good to see such a lovely new face around here. One with great taste, I might add. Made my night.”
The simmer kicked up to a full, licking flame.
“Oh, well thanks. I don’t get out much,” you said with an awkward chuckle.
Bill stepped closer, as if his next point was something he had to lean in for. “By the way, and I hope this isn’t too forward, but… you’re a great dancer.”
Eddie watched your hand dive behind your neck, your face contort into a feeble smile, your shoulders hunch, your eyes glance down. He could hear the distress in your beautiful laugh and he boiled so hot he could have seared a hole into the back of Bill’s head.
He extended his hand. “I’m Bill, by the way.”
Eddie wrapped the cable in hasty circles around his forearm. Heat rose behind behind his tight lips and exited in short fumes.
“Hey man, have you seen the drum key anywhere?” Gareth called from behind him.
It barely registered. The world was a fragment now. A red-hot, narrowing tunnel reduced to a singularity — Bill’s hand.
Bill’s hand; hovering like a salacious invitation, too close to the soft swell of your belly. That open, rugged palm — weathered, experienced, and free. Free to reach into his wallet, to reach across the bar, to hand you a drink, to wander all sorts of places where Eddie could not.
You, ever polite and always accommodating, reached back.
He touched you.
Eddie’s vision narrowed red. Helplessly, he watched Bill’s fingers snake around the back of your hand and squeeze, linger at your palm as they released. A coil wound through his body. It rose up like bile — up through his spine, into his shoulders that rolled forward and back with a deep, seething breath. Up, up, into that primitive space at the base of his skull where words and civil manners had no place.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
Eddie dropped the cable.
The world blurred in the wake of his target and in five swift steps he was at your side. “Hey, Bill. Uh—” his senses ebbed back to him with a curious look from the man he’d shared countless drinks with. A man he would call his friend had he not breeched a sacred distance, a contract he knew nothing of. His vision was clouded, the coil tight and hot.
“She’s um,” he continued quietly, a murmur he had to lean in for. An urge seized his hand. The urge to claim, to slip across the divot of your back and pull you close where you belonged, to but the noise from the stage and the eyes that followed forced his hand deep into his pocket. He swallowed his frustration, hoping the simmer in his eyes would be enough to convey what he meant. “She’s with me, man.”
A throb from that low, blooming place, rose up in a full body yes. In the arch of your back, in the dip of your eyes as you caught the desperate heat from his.
Bill blinked in honest surprise. “Wait, you mean,” he pointed between the two of you, eyes darting back and forth with a confusion that only deepened the insecurity of everyone involved, “you’re—”
“Yes,” Eddie hotly interrupted. The coil in him released slightly, a low rumble replaced by a surge that settled in his cheeks at the trembling, nervous laughter in your voice.
Flutters roared through you all at once, spinning the room well beyond the scope of the liquor that lingered in your veins, heightening your senses to the warmth radiating from the aching nearness of his body to yours.
“Well, hey man, we were just talking—”
“Yeah—well,” he glanced at you, an apology playing out in the widening of his eyes as the coil cooled to sobering embarrassment. He wished he could bury himself, open a trapdoor and take you with him. A parade of stomping feet and slamming cases trudged on behind him from the stage. He prayed the din was enough to mask the conversation.
“It’s ok!” you nervously exclaimed to both of them. “Really. Besides, I—I need to sober up anyway before I go home, so… it’s really ok,” you soothed to Eddie specifically.
Eddie’s pulse thrummed in his hears, his body a livewire of stress and embarrassment. “Ok. Well, I just, um… thought I’d let you know,” he concluded to Bill, desperate to string together some semblance of dignity. He dipped his head toward you until his voice hummed lowly in your hear. “It’ll just be a few more minutes. I gotta get the rest of this shit cleaned up, and then we can, um—” his eyes darted back and forth between yours in wordless exasperation.
“Yeah,” your body whispered, overriding any protest of your noble mind. To what you were agreeing to was unimportant. Whatever he wanted.
Eddie nodded and pivoted toward the stage in a swift exit.
In the wake of his absence was an awkward pause, a space Bill was quick to fill with words. “Well, um, it was nice to meet you,” he said with an awkward dip of his head.
“Yeah, you as well,” you said, a feeble anchor to the spinning room. Bill’s gaze hesitated with a flash of disappointment before returning to the bar. It was all you could do to just stand there a moment, heart pounding in stunned realization as the space whirled with the clammer of footsteps, the thud of equipment, the clinking of glasses. Suddenly the weight of your aloneness in the middle of it all was crushing. You retreated to the down the short hallway and ducked into the bathroom.
She’s with me.
She’s with me.
She’s with me.
In the muffled quiet of the dimly lit reprieve, the words echoed louder than ever. You were almost afraid to check your reflection, to look yourself in the eyes and face the person who ached to hear them repeated, but you did, and she surprised you. Something about the way your lipstick feathered clean in the center from the kiss of the bottle, the way your mascara settled at your lower lashes in the delicate lines beneath. It was oddly flattering, like the shadow of a good time.
You liked who you saw, and perhaps that scared you most.
Jeff’s laughter echoed down the hallway and the pinball trigger snapped again. What the fuck am I doing?
You would ask yourself this question as you pressed the tip of your boot to the dirty toilet handle, as the cold water woke your skin, as it dripped onto the salt-stained tile, as you dropped the soggy remains of the last two paper towels into the overflowing trashcan.
When the clammer of footsteps and slamming of the back door faded to nothing more than distant murmurs from the bar, you slowly cracked the door and peered into the empty hallway. Your boots clicked tentatively against the tacky linoleum, emerging from the shadows as you drew a steady breath. The stage was dark, the men perched on stools had their backs to you, all roaming eyes cast down over drinks — all except one.
Eddie stood in the middle of it all; hands on hips, damp curls clinging to his neck, chest still heaving from movement and stress. He locked eyes with you, and you could feel relief in his sigh from the apron of the hallway.
Your smile was a shy, timid thing, blooming to a helpless grin as the softness of his features heightened into focus with each progressive step. As the distance between you closed to less than a foot.
“Hey,” he breathed like a soft apology.
“Hey,” you answered, like you always did. A nervous crackle of anticipation wound through your gut.
“I um,” Eddie wrung a hand behind his neck, flashing a dark tuft of hair that made the animal in you stir. “I need to cool down,” he admitted with a raw, candid urgency. He patted his pockets. “I’m gonna step out for a cigarette… if you… wanna…” he nodded toward the back hall.
Yes. Anything, the animal growled. You simply nodded and went to grab your coat.
Eddie snatched the heap of leather from the railing by the stage and draped it over his arm. He ushered you forward with a sweep of his palm through the air, catching your eyes with a softness that threatened the strength of your knees. A giggle escaped you — honest, uncontrollable, automatic. Clutching your arm with a coyness that surprised even yourself, you shuffled in front of him, the towering presence of his closeness like a tingle at your back, a safety in the thud of heavy boots behind you.
The night air was a cold refreshment, a sobering reprieve from the hot, smoke-dense air of The Hideout. Your lungs helped themselves, filling to the brim, releasing just a little of the tension that was mounting before you arrived. It left you in a thick fog, drifting out into the empty patio, catching the glow from the singular bulb posted by the door. Eddie pulled it shut with a soft thud and shrugged on his coat in a rattle of zippers and chains.
Silence. A howl of the wind through naked limbs. A sigh that left both of you at once.
Eddie dipped his head in subtle reverence as he crossed in front of you, placing his hands on the short, wooden fence to your right. He paused a second, drawing a deep breath before spinning around to face you, hands splayed in an open plead. “I am so fucking sorry.”
Your mouth hung open. “A-about what?”
He ran a hand through his hair with a ragged sigh. “About Bill, about how I acted, a-about…” he swallowed, “what I said…”
An O trembled on your lips but never made it out. “It’s fine, really—”
“It’s…it’s not. It’s just that,” he huffed, “Bill was hitting on you a-and you just looked so uncomfortable and…” it drove him fucking crazy. It lit his blood on fire. It made him want to grab a man who’d bought him countless drinks by the collar and ram him into the wall.
You stepped closer, close enough to see the whites of his eyes in the darkness, the shadow of his pinching brow. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t stir something in you. Hearing those words. Hearing the ones he said now in profuse apology. “Eddie,” you soothed.
He closed his eyes; a split-second relish of his name on your lips. “It—” he sighed. “It wasn’t cool, to say that…” he shook his head before meeting your eyes in soft earnestness, “in public.”
The breath froze in your lungs. Out here the world fell away to the rustle of trees, to a darkness that cloaked you like a blanket. You were alone. Truly alone. A question tugged at your heart, twinged on the tip of your tongue but felt still too bold to leave it. What would he say, then, in private?
It played out like a tape behind his eyes — the curl of Bill’s fingers around your hand. It was such a simple gesture, benign outside of context. Yet there was something deeper, something that wound like a serpent through his gut. It struck, and stung, that in one fell swoop, Bill had touched as much of you as he had. That Bill could do as much in public as he could only manage beneath a shadow.
“Anyway, now that… that’s out of the way,” Eddie shook his head as he fumbled with the zipper of his pocket, curls feathering his delicate cheekbone, gaze cast down in weakly hidden shame. He procured a box of cigarettes, thumb flipping it open with an ease earned by years of habit. Popping one into his mouth, he paused before snapping it shut. “Y-you want one?” he mumbled. It seemed rude not to ask, but the question felt dumber by the second as it hung in the air. You were good. Good like 6 AM coffee, like the early morning sun. Good like the buttons on a crisp, white blouse. Yet here he stood, hand extended, offering what little he could — an experience.
Goodness was a mantle. A weight that kept your shoulders back, your lips pressed tight, your head cast down, your feet in slippers, your curtains drawn. Eddie Munson stood beside you, rugged and regal like a dark knight, arm outstretched in humble offering. With hesitance, you eyed the invitation.
Out here you could be anything — a vagabond, a runaway, a princess escaped from her castle. A woman who spends Tuesday nights at dive bars and smokes cigarettes with men in leather jackets. Anything you wanted.
You wanted to taste it. You wanted the flame, and the smoke, and the raw, ragged air that wound through your lungs and left like a beacon that soared toward the sky.
You wanted to be bad for him, and so you accepted.
The cigarette almost dropped from Eddie’s mouth in shock. He fumbled another from the box before tucking it into his back pocket. With a flourish, bending in its presentation as if it were a single rose, he offered it to you.
Never in a million years could you have imagined it. You, in a position like this. Him, in a position like that. Least of all that it would be so wildly romantic.
You accepted with the tips of your fingers, your index and middle, brushing ridges of his knuckles with feather-light indulgence. They closed around the offering, pausing for an aching second before drawing away with it.
Eddie closed his eyes, so quickly he could have masked it as a blink, but you caught it. The sigh, the swallow, the batting open with a burning hunger as he relished in the barest fulfillment of what he’d been craving since he saw you this morning — to touch you.
The cold nipped at your knuckles as you took in the foreign sensation between them, admiring it like a sinful adornment under the moonlight.
With a flick of his thumb, the parentheses of his mouth lit up in a warm glow. He took a few quick puffs, smoke billowing from his nose and the corners of his lips before taking a long drag. Satisfaction exited his lungs in a deep sigh, a billow that rose toward the twinkling sky. He turned his attention back to you. “Here,” he offered gently, beckoning you closer with a gentle come hither motion, readying his lighter.
You held your hand out gingerly, willing the trembling of your fingers to cease with little success.
Eddie closed in, bringing a finger to his lips as a gentle suggestion. “Put it in your mouth,” he said, unable to suppress the boyish grin that surfaced from the words.
You did as he told you, held it in your smirk, searched for your next instruction in the depth of his eyes but found only delight. Delight in the whole sight of you; the way it dimpled the swell of your lips, in the attention of those dutiful shoulders, like you wanted to be good at misbehaving. Delight in the fact he was teaching you something.
Eddie leaned closer. “Like this,” he instructed softly, framing his own with his long, ruddy digits before taking a quick drag. Obediently, you mirrored him, like a natural smoker would, like they did in the movies and inside the bar.
The flame ignited between you, flickering in the wild wind. Eddie cupped it with his other hand, forming a shield with the curve of his knuckles — gentle and protective. The fire caught the tip of the slender roll, but his palm was far more captivating. Inches from your face, you could study it closer than ever, plush and glowing — the broad heart line, the soft meat of its heel.
A deep inhale had smoke ghosting over your tongue. Eddie pulled away to reveal the ember and you took your cue. The drag you took, long and determined, left you coughing.
Eddie couldn’t suppress his chuckle, couldn’t mask the crinkle of his eyes as you—from behind the big desk and before the big board—were swallowed in a clumsy cloud of smoke.
“Are you laughing at me?” you asked through a giggle of your own.
Like oxygen to a flame, his laughter only brightened. “I’m sorry, you’re just… so…”
“So…what?” You gave him a look, trying to suck your dignity back through the end of the cigarette.
A million words ached on the tip of his tongue. The wind ripped across the small, frozen field, shyly disappearing in the treeline. Out here there were no bells, no footsteps, no concrete walls to listen. Eddie watched those fingers of yours pull away from your lips, blow a billow toward the open sky, and one in a million came tumbling out.
“Beautiful.”
A puff retreated back through your lips, froze in your lungs. The truth hung like smoke in the cold night air, rolled around in your chest, warmed your body from head to toe. Eddie plugged his mouth with another draw to prevent more from slipping out.
There was space for the truth out here. Space like a vacuum, vast and quiet. A shyly muttered “Thank you,” was all you could manage to fill it with.
Eddie raked his fingers through the damp curls at the nape of his neck, cheeks pinking visibly, even in the dim glow of the single light on the other side of the patio. He leaned against the fence and met your eyes again, nervous breath rolling over his plush lips.
His movement, like a magnet, drew your feet across the pavement. Deeper into the shadows with the gentle pull of his eyes. The tobacco settled in your body with a comfortable heaviness as you drank him in, and you suddenly grasped the appeal.
Out here he seemed even taller, shoulders stacked over slender hips as he leaned into the fence, an ease that washed over him with each generous draw, like the stress was rolling off into the shadows. Out here he took on a different posture, different than the one under fluorescent lights. Different than the one in the small chair next to you, the one with hunched shoulders and downcast eyes.
You tapped the ash of the cigarette off with your finger, like a natural smoker would. He smirked at the gesture, and you caught the twinge of pride in it this time.
Out here he could be anything. He could be clever and daring; a roguish enchanter. A man who casts spells with his fingers and charms with his words. Anything he wanted.
He wanted to make your eyes light up.
Eddie took another drag, hollowing his cheeks before sending out smoke in deliberate puffs with his tongue. It left his mouth in rings, hovering in the gap between you before drifting across the patio.
He got what he wanted. A gasp left your lips, eyes twinkling brighter than the stars. “What?! I didn’t know people could actually do that!” You exclaimed, delighted like a child on Christmas.
Eddie blew the rest off to the side and returned a blinding smile. It was more satisfying than the cigarette — the fact that he could do it, make your face light up. The fact that he had the power.
“How do you do that?” you asked, ever inquisitive.
His instructions were simple; take a big drag, hollow your cheeks, make the shape with your mouth, and push the smoke out with your tongue. Simple enough, from the sound of it.
Your first attempt failed, miserably. Uproariously.
“The shape is critical,” he reminded through a chuckle, “it’s gotta be like, a perfect O, not an oval.” His eyes lingered over your lips as you tried his suggestion, struggling to will his mind away from the gutter.
Your smile made it hard to maintain. “Wait—wait, hold on I think I got it.” You tried again with great focus, sending out puffs with your tongue that looked nothing like rings. It was worth it though. Worth making a fool of yourself for the amusement that colored his face, for the bright laughter it earned you. “Ok, fine. Maybe not.”
It looked good on him, just like it did on stage. This knowing that drew his shoulders back, made him lean with a powerful ease. The knowing that he was really good at something, that he could show you.
“It’s a bit advanced,” he said with a wink before taking another deep drag. He puffed a ring and cast it forward with a push of his hand, like a spell through the air. It broke on your nose and you relished in the soft sensation of his life-force ghosting over your face.
It was all you could do just to look at him — rugged and regal in the way that only he could be. It was dangerous and thrilling; how alone you were right now. His aura pulled you closer, eyes tugging at those burning questions, serious questions at war with your lingering buzz. You broke the silence with the truth; soft and sincere. “You’re insanely talented, I hope you know that.”
The curve of his lashes dipped shyly with a little puff through his nose. They raised with a sparkle that cut through the darkness. “Thanks, it uh… comes a lot easier to me than chemistry.” He tapped off his ash on the pavement.
You tucked your free hand into your pocket with a bashful shuffle of your feet. “Well, good thing rockstars don’t need to know chemistry then.”
Eddie scoffed and gave his eyes a quick roll, unsuccessful at hiding the brilliance of his smile. Heat crept up his neck, and he soothed it with a wring of his hand.
There was a gap between you; a space you were too scared to breach. The two of you filled it with shy chatter as your cigarettes dwindled to nubs. It was easy, to talk to him. About music, about anything. Easy because you gave each other turns to take it; the space. It almost made it easy to forget who you were to each other before you came out here, who you would go back to being tomorrow.
The cold was wicked and relentless; biting at your knuckles as you tapped the last ash. Even the tobacco’s heavy warmth sinking to your feet couldn’t stave it off. It was a Tuesday night in December, and the wind made sure to remind you.
Eddie followed your eyes toward the door. “It’s ok,” he reassured. “Nobody comes out here. We’re safe.”
His words sparked a tingle in your chest, a pulse of heat; low and thrumming. Neither could halt the shiver that seized your limbs.
“You ok?” he asked gently, stepping close enough to almost feel the heat from him.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” You blew on your hands, rubbing them together feebly to fight the cold. You were stubborn to surrender, determined not to end your stolen moment by succumbing.
It was all he could do just to look at you. You, shaking like a leaf in the wind. You, with longing eyes and trembling lips. You, with your soft skin and softer soul. His fingers burned, wrestled with the silence, and the distance, and the howl of the wind through the trees. They warred with the ticking clock, with the chill against his precious moment, with the threat of it winning. Suddenly his fingers—bolder than they’ve ever been in his life—twitched to animation. They toyed with the cold metal zipper at his neck, and in one decided tug, he opened up for you. “Here,” he offered.
You froze, more than the cold could ever manage, as you eyed the invitation — the warm leather cave, the exposure of his heaving chest. Your lips parted but words would not come. You wanted it — the heat, the tight embrace, to be wrapped in his aura, to feel his laughter with your palms.
Your noble mind as it cast its disapproval like a shadow toward your heart, but your hands and feet were deaf to it. Boots shuffling boldly against the rough pavement, they filled the gap between his. You accepted with the tips of your fingers, delicate and tentative, like his skin was a hot iron and yours at risk to burn. You watched them disappear into the darkness, felt the soft cotton warmth as it enveloped you. With trembling slowness, you traced the divots of his ribcage, settled into them like grooves, felt him gasp into your palms when the ice that you’d become found the velvet, heated skin under his arms.
“Sorry—”
“Hah—hmm—no-no it’s ok,” he grimaced, pinning your hands beneath his arms to stop your recoil, as if the pain of the freeze hurt less than the pain of its absence. “I—ah—I asked for this.” His chuckle was a warm vibration, a flutter as the cage which housed his heart contracted.
A shiver racked your body as you thawed. Whether it was nerves, or fear, or the chill that had settled deep in your bones long before you stepped foot outside, you were helpless to control it.
“Come ‘ere,” he breathed with equal care and need.
You submitted, tracing his contours as he pulled you closer — head against his solid shoulder, into the soft pillow of his hair, into the source of his scent: leather and tobacco and the sweet, salty musk of his skin. You closed your eyes and basked in it, nose buried in his curls, drawing in deeply to steady your rattling chest.
Broad palms splayed across the fabric of your coat, pulling you deep into the comfort of his heat, tracing your waist to settle in a place they burned to be — your lower back. “It’s ok, you’re ok,” he murmured into your hair, bracing you tightly as your whole body shook.
You could have died here, buried yourself in his arms and made him your tomb. They would find you in the morning; frozen like a sculpture. Left out for all of Hawkins to see, to point and say terrible things. It wouldn’t matter. You would have died happy.
His heart was pounding with disbelief. You, here, in his arms. You could feel it through your coat, hammering against your chest, into your palms at his back. Eddie felt your breathing slow, your body soften and relax. He crooked his forearm firmly to your back, to the place where it belonged, fingers curling like a cage around your waist. Out here he could be anything — strong and stable, a haven for your tired bones to rest. Anything, for you.
In the dark leather cave there was a landscape for your hands to study. The satin liner grazed your knuckles as your hands explored the angles of his shoulder blades with tentative slowness — down along the muscles of his back, the dip of his spine, the birdcage of his ribs; expanding and contracting, deep and steady.
He was real, here, in your arms. Two swelling lungs. One beating heart. Two hands that clutched the wool barrier between you. One solid shield of a chest. One humming column at your cheek. Eddie Munson; wildfire. Close enough to thaw you. Close enough to burn you to the ground.
Your hands settled at the slim taper of his waist. Pliant and yielding under soft cotton, swelling with each ocean breath. His cage around you tightened, and you breathed him in, felt him swallow, felt his hips slot against the groove of yours with sensed belonging.
The animal in you keened with curiosity, emboldened by the dark. Your hands wouldn’t dare beyond the roadblock of his belt, but they would move in slow strokes up and down his back. A gentle comfort, a mask for your indulgence.
A quiet moan rose up in him, one he couldn’t swallow. The best he could do was cloak it in a sigh. It hummed against your ear; your cheek so close to the crook of his neck you could almost taste it. You breathed him in again, lips pressed to his soft curls against tough leather as the smoke, and musk, and crisp night air filled your lungs.
His hands were less patient; dipping toward the slope of your hips, pawing at thick wool, thumbs drawing aching circles there. It earned an arch from your back, a grasp from your hands at the soft cotton barrier.
There was an animal in him too, preening at the cant of your hips, at the rub of your neck against his. With a dip of his chin he could sink his teeth in, but his noble mind willed it away, settled for the scent of you instead — soft like powder, warm and inviting. The heels of your palms drifted toward his belly, and the animal threatened to rear below his belt.
“Ah,” it leapt out his throat.
Hands freezing before reaching the healthy swell, you drew back from his shoulder, checking in. Your lids hung with visible weight, pupils blown by more than just the lack of light, dizzy from his touch. He could do that with his hands, he thought; a split-second revel before concern sobered your features.
His disappointment was palpable, like he’d burst some great bubble. “Mm—no, it’s fine, please—” please don’t stop. His arms around you tightened, eyes pleading with words he wasn’t bold enough to utter, even in the darkness.
A shadow of guilt fell across your face. Guilt for your greedy hands, for your lost control, for your bad behavior. It was a pitiful sight; worse than the one he saw yesterday. Worse because it was here. Worse because he was closer than he’d ever been before.
There was a gap between you; space for the cold to seep between your hearts. Space for the fear that he’d broken the spell. That you didn’t see him anymore, but your student instead.
You thumbed his soft cotton shirt, buried in the shelter of his coat. Eddie Munson — frenetic and compelling. Beautiful in the way that wild things are. Breathing life into your numb hands with each ragged swell. You studied him closely; his soft cupid’s bow, his pink, plush pout, the angles of his worried jaw, the pining in his eyes.
Want. A wild, elusive thing. A summer wind. An admission at a cost. Want didn’t budge. Want looked you dead in the eyes and tightened its grip.
Eddie knew what he wanted, burning like a question on his tongue. He knew he had to be the one to ask. He was terrified — of the question, of the asking, of the fact that he may never get another chance. Your hands grappled with it, clung like they feared he would vanish. He felt the ache in them, the want, the fear, the frustration. It opened up a narrow passage, and he entered with the boldest thing he had ever done.
He asked you with his forehead first. A gentle nod forward; the softest collision. A tickle of curls. A rock back and forth of his strong, sturdy brow. A smile even you couldn’t hide. Your hands released, settled at the dip of his back in quiet permission.
He asked you with the bridge of his nose. A delicate slope. A tender nuzzle. Rigid bone under soft flesh. Cold, round tip. Roaming the map of yours with heated intention as he swayed like a dance in the moonlight. You closed your eyes, surrendered to the fantasy. Felt the heat of his cheek, the pang of his palm at your back as he pulled you closer.
He asked you with a tilt of his chin, and brought time to a halt.
There was a gap between you. A fractional distance bridged by the ghost of his breath. Within it; every party that you never went to, every basement you were never led away from, every page you never shared, every experience you never had. Goodness was a mantle, heavy from a lifetime on your shoulders.
What did freedom taste like? The question brushed across your lips like a warm invitation. You were desperate for the answer. Wanted it more than anything, ever, in your whole entire life. Wanted it for you, for only you. For once.
Eddie asked the question. You closed the gap.
A sigh left both of you at once. One you could taste this time, humming against the plush cradle of his lips. Freedom could have melted you. It threatened the strength of your knees, but his arms were stronger. Locked against each other in the shadows you borrowed, your lips began to explore, to express every secret wish the two of you had dreamt apart.
Freedom tasted tentative at first. A slow drag of his lips, a languid slip that rippled to the dormant parts of you. Catching like tinder as they grazed over yours, hot with an ache you could taste. It was sinfully exquisite; tasting the curve of his smile, the hyper-real rasp of his stubble as those lips—the ones that shot you smirks from down the hall and spilled over with song—found a rhythm with yours. Broad palms clutched the wool at your waist like you’d slip through a crack if he didn’t hold on.
Freedom was slick. It tasted like cigarettes, like a thousand unsaid words ushered past the border of your mouth. You could taste every one on his tongue, soothed them with the slickness of yours. Every aching word, dripping in each soft caress. Diving like a dance, echoed in the soft, wet smacks when you parted. You devoured them like you were starving. Every sigh, every hum, every color that left his lungs slipped eagerly down your throat.
The wool at your back was a nuisance. Eddie pawed at it, desperate to feel the shape of you through the fabric, to store it in the vault of his mind, to play with it later in private. He halted his hands at your hips, willed them decent, rationed with the small working part of his brain that your lips would have to be enough. He relished in the way you accepted him. The way you spread for him, parting eagerly for his tongue. The way your lips closed around him, rocking as he prodded like you’d done it before. Like you wanted to elsewhere.
The spell was broken. The line, miles away. There was a hunger in you, sudden and surprising, roused by the very first taste. Eddie palmed your hips with an urgency that stirred you. Like a bear in the spring, thawed by the heat of his touch, you devoured him. Devoured him with the wholeness of your splayed hands, tracing up his pounding ribs, dragging across the expanse of his broad chest. It heaved under your touch; solid muscle under soft cotton. You devoured his moan; a hot, strangled thing that escaped his plush lips. Like a match to the strip your tongue, you ignited.
His hands lost their patience. Breaking from your waist, they dove behind your ears to cradle your face. Your face. Your jaw, your delicate cheeks he caressed with the rough pads of his thumbs, as if the swell of them—the rigid bones under soft skin, the absolute realness of you in his arms—could wake him from the dream he was surely having. He was tasting you, tasting the want on your tongue. More satisfying than a four course meal, more satisfying than anything he’d ever tasted in his life. You wanted him. More than that, you savored him; the taste of his hot, eager tongue as it slipped against yours.
Freedom was delicious. Bold and complex, acrid and rich. Full bodied. A smooth, sweet finish. You could have drowned in it. Drowned in the angles of his hands, in his tender strokes, in the sopping heat of his mouth. Drowned in his eager sighs, in his scent. Drowned completely if he hadn’t held your head above the surging waves.
Eddie was good like a midnight snack. Good like a wide open road. He was good at this. Good at knowing how to ask and answer. Good at at finding the rhythm of you.
You broke for air, stilling against the bridge of his nose, afraid to look him in the eyes just yet, to break away from the safety his shadow provided. Safe from the world, safe from consequences, safe from the thoughts that battered at the door of your mind. Safety was fragile and fleeting. You knew it, he knew it. Your breath mingled in hot bursts as you steadied your spinning world for a quiet moment together. You felt him smile—heard it—big and bright as it cracked across his face. The air stung your cheeks when he took his hands away. Leaning back against the fence, he tugged you closer, further into the safety of the shadows, enveloping you in the crook of his heat.
It was good like this — the angles of you and the angles of him, fitting like they always belonged. It felt safe to explore them, to paint his pounding chest, down the soft swell of his belly, stopping at his hips. With a thick bob of his Adam’s apple, he closed the gap again. It was chaste this time, peppering your lips with space to breathe between each kiss. They were slow and savory, steady and sure. They lingered long enough for you to get another taste, to capture that plush Cupid’s bow and let it melt across yours, to flick your tongue over his soft bottom lip and taste him there too.
You could taste his need when he greeted your tongue with his own. It was safe to show it here. Safe to let the animal inside him bare its teeth. Safe to let the animal in you do the same. It growled when he nipped at you, hooked its claws through his belt loops and tugged. It was a quick, testing thing, and your sound let him know that he passed. He lapped it up hungrily, soothed it before inflicting another.
It ached in a frightening way, in that deep, low place. Throbbed awake with each delicious bite. It scared you how quickly the path was veering south, but the pooling warmth encouraged his travels, let him go wherever he wanted. When his lips strayed far enough to track your jaw, a shrinking voice shrieked danger, but the rest of you simply submitted.
Claws braced denim and leather, offering yourself with a tip of your head. Reverently, he accepted, setting his pace with a dizzying slowness. He worshiped you with every latch, every press, every lingering smack, darting his tongue out to taste the forbidden angles of your jaw. It was greedy but good. To him, to you. Letting go this much. Letting him go this far. The trail cooled in the night air, and he settled at the precipice of your neck.
His breath alone was enough to melt you; heavy with the weight of his new position. Heavy with desire, with the weight of thousand fantasies he never thought would come to pass. He drank in the cocktail of your scent; concentrated, warm, deliciously real. In the throws of your own heaving chest, sobered just barely by the pregnant pause, you awoke to your position: open, vulnerable, completely at his mercy.
He tasted your swallow, felt your breath hitch when his warm, wet tongue found your pulse. Lathing there a moment, lingering and slow, he savored you. Savored the ridges of your neck, the way your head lolled to the side, like a feast laid out for him. He stored the image in his mind, packaged it carefully for when he would surely be starving again. His lips soothed where his tongue left off, over and over until your strangled sound stirred a fiending hunger. He bared his teeth, and you shattered.
Freedom was falling apart in his arms. Crumbling into pieces and letting him grapple you whole. Letting him capture you in his maw and lap up your ruin. Letting him, letting him. His teeth dragged dull and slow, tingling every waking cell, turning you to putty completely. He dragged a moan out of you. A full one, loud and clear. He tucked it away, buried it deep alongside your squirms and your touch.
The door opened.
Cold air shocked your lungs. Head snapping over your shoulder, you broke his latch and Eddie hissed a curse at the separation. With daggers, you both assessed the intruder.
The silhouette of his cap gave him away. He might have even kept on walking but the gasps and the shuffling feet made him turn. “Oh shit,” Bill flinched back in surprise. “Sorry man I thought you left.”
Eddie’s arm tightened instinctively, pulling you as close as he wanted to earlier. Reflexively, you pushed away. It was a strange tug of war — his pride and your fear. “Yeah—no we’re still here,” he snapped.
You swallowed your pounding heart, sobering completely under Bill’s gaze. Suddenly your claws retracted, your hands felt wrong where they rested, shame bit at your neck along the cooling trail he left behind.
Even in the backlit glow of the singular light, you saw it painted clearly on his features — the judgement, the disbelief, the questions rising up but not daring to come out. “Well um, sorry to interrupt. Have a good night,” Bill said with an awkward raise of his hand before making quickly for the parking lot.
Footsteps faded over gravel and left a silence in their wake, thicker than the stillness from before.
Eddie breathed a sharp sigh through his nostrils, brows lowered as he seethed toward the parking lot. The cold was setting in again. Your nose, and ears, and fingers stung with it. The rest of you stung worse; chest numbing, caving like a can under the weight of what you’d just done.
When the flick of distant headlights made you brave enough to face him, frustration painted his features. He pawed at your coat, desperate to salvage what he could of his precious moment. “Anyway, where were we?” he muttered, eyeing your neck with a tilt of his head like he was about to dive in again.
Your hand at his chest stopped him, and the look in his eyes was wounding. “Eddie,” you warned softly. A slow, heavy sigh left his nose, one you could feel with your palm. “I need to go.”
Crestfallen after a desperate, hesitant second, his arms went slack. Your hand dropped, leaving a fierce chill behind. One more, his lips begged, but struggled to release. Please.
It hurt, to crumble like this after all you had built. With the roar of Bill’s engine, the fantasy shattered around you. The carriage became a pumpkin, your gown turned into rags. Shrill bells rang out in the distance, coming surely as the sun would rise. Pinballs thundered as that sweet oval face—the one from the back of the room and the chair next to yours—pouted with lips still swollen from where you had broken your contract.
“I’m sorry,” you mouthed.
Gathering himself with a deep breath, he straightened to a dignified height, conviction filling the cracks in his composure. “I’m not.”
It was terrifying — the prospect, the consequences. What it meant for you, for him, for the world you’d have to face tomorrow.
Most terrifying of all was how good it felt to hear him say.
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A/N: Thank you all for your patience on this one. It took me nearly all summer to finish but I'm really proud of how it turned out. Please let me know what you think! I've missed hearing from and connecting with all of you. Next one won't take nearly as long, I promise. 💕
Taglist: @mermaidsandcats29 @toxicjayhoo @ooo-protean-ooo @jadequeen88 @wroteclassicaly @kissmyacdc @mantorokk-writes @loveshotzz @storiesbyrhi @cursedyuta @trashmouth-richie @carolmunson @keeponquinning @munson-blurbs @blueywrites @alottanothing @bebe07011 @idkidknemore @alizztor @godcreatoreli @ethereal27cereal @munsonsgirl71 @emxxblog @siriusmuggle @sidthedollface2 @big-ope-vibes @dollalicia @lma1986 @catherinnn @eddiemunson4life420 @readsalot73 @barbiedragon @ladylilylost @3rriberri @princess-eddie @nightless @eddieswifu @thew0rldsastage @chaoticgood-munson @hanahkatexo @eddiemunsonsbedroom @beep-beep-sherlock @averagemisfit03 @vintagehellfire @haylaansmi @sllooney @lunaladybug734 @callingmrsbarnes @ajkamins
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MASTERLIST ⎮ AO3 ⎮ KO-FI
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson older reader#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x teacher!reader#stranger things fanfiction#eddie munson angst#eddie munson fluff#don't stand so close to me
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IN MY ROOM
PAIRING ➩ heeseung x reader
WARNINGS ➩ none really, unresolved angst and one sided heartbreak
WC ➩ 2.6k
AUTHORS NOTE ➩ Normally I don’t write small drabbles but obsessed with this song and wanted to do something for it. No full fic for this or part 2 sorry it’s supposed to hurt! I highly suggest listening while listening or beforehand since it’s fully inspired by the lyrics and vibe
I like when it's dark out, October will cure me
I'm walking these woods, am I thirty or thirteen?
The size of your heart seemed to grow and shrink with the seasons, always fluttering and aching depending on the shade of the trees and sometimes it felt like it got quiet all together.
You figured out a long time ago that the actual shape of it and your anatomy wasn’t changing and instead you were just an over emotional person (if there was such a thing). Your mother blamed it on your father being a writer, saying you inherited his soul and his passion for pouring all of his love into every little thing with the hopes something worth putting to paper would appear in return.
You didn’t write like he did but you did often find yourself overthinking the journey of tree roots and being curious about how building a proper nest weighed on a birds confidence.
It was a lot easier to fall inlove with everything than to tune the world out and that didn’t fall short of affecting the way you interacted with the people around you.
The way you loved your friends wasn’t always romantic but you had a deep connection to all of them and a mental list of all their habits and cute quirks like the way Wonyoung covered her mouth when she laughed hard and the raise of Riki’s eyebrow whenever he was curious about something.
You loved Heeseung in a different way.
Your heart was heavy as you walked through the tree covered trail that led to your house, knowing once you started thinking of him it was nearly impossible to stop.
In your defense, he seemed to have that affect on a lot of people.
There was just something undeniably charged about Heeseung and the way he interacted with the world around him. He was ever confident in a natural way that didn’t have a hint of arrogance and his gentle nature struck you hard the first time you met him when you were 13 and he had just turned 14.
You became close friends after getting partnered for a school project and your heart was soaring when he kept talking to you even after you’d turned in the essay and gotten a low B.
He was bestfriends with basically everybody he interacted with but you couldn’t help feeling special when you kept getting closer and closer and your friendship started to actually hold some weight instead of just having surface level conversations in between class lectures.
The cold fall chill ripped through your sweater right as your mood started to sour and you shook your head free from the thoughts of him or at least as free as you could.
Not asking for much, man, thought maybe you'd call me
I slit my own throat just to see if you'd mourn me
“He really hasn’t said a single thing to you? Like not even something random and completely unrelated to his absolute betrayal?”
You rolled your eyes and sighed at the dramatic exaggeration of Wonyoung’s statement but she was right to be upset on your behalf considering you had a hard time being mad at him yourself.
Your sigh continued as you rolled onto your back and tugged the phones chord as tight as possible so it reached further on your bed, nearly coming off the wall with how hard you were stretching the old elastic.
“He’s waved at me in the halls but I can’t talk to him.” Your voice was muffled just from how much you didn’t want to admit the extent of which this bothered you.
You weren’t at all exaggerating, you really couldn’t bring yourself to talk to Heeseung ever since he had casually announced on his MySpace that he was now in a relationship with one of your more casual mutual friends. He hadn’t told you beforehand that he even had feelings for her and you felt completely ridiculous for thinking he held you as close to his heart as you did for him.
Even your friend group had been thrown off by the news considering everybody followed the silent understanding that you and him were more than friends.
You’d rolled your eyes the few times they’d brought it up, both in light teasing or genuinely trying to pry and get you to answer their burning questions about your relationship.
You never fulfilled their curiosity for a multitude of reasons but mainly because you had no idea what you and Heeseung were exactly. You liked him more than you’d ever liked somebody in your life and your face turned red whenever you saw him smile or felt his hand brushing against yours under the lunch table but he’d never said anything to you about it.
His feelings might’ve seemed obvious to somebody who didn’t know him, figuring you were dating the second he wrapped his arm around you or ordered your food without checking what you wanted since he already had your preferences memorized.
But that was just who Heeseung was and you were no stranger to that.
He was overly caring and involved with everyone he met and he could make somebody he’d met seconds ago seem like they were best buddies from kindergarten. He definitely had a sweet spot for you but there was no real evidence that it extended past platonic admiration.
You were overwhelmingly glad now you’d never been stupid enough to tell your friends you were together before confirming it considering his abrupt new relationship that completely shattered your view on what you’d been to him.
Clearly you’d misread the signals the entire time and the two of you were just friends but the more you thought about it, the more angry you got. Not at Heeseung because your heart strictly forbid you for ever thinking negatively about the boy but just at the entire situation and the lack of understanding from both sides.
It wasn’t friendly when he stared into your eyes with the waves crashing behind you and your friends laughing somewhere in the distance. Not at all platonic when he was taking your hand in his at the school dance and ignoring the dozens of eyes staring at him, waiting for a turn.
They never got it because he spent the entire night spinning you in his arms and complimenting your dress and hair.
You weren’t confused when he laid in your bed after his parents threw a fit about his new piercing, his head on your stomach and his voice a whisper when he told you that you were the only person who understood him.
“You’re my person and I’ve never felt like that with anybody before so it freaks me out sometimes.” His eyes didn’t stray from the blank spot on your ceiling and yours stayed locked on the bruise forming around the new piece of middle inside his eyebrow. “I couldn’t think of anybody else I wanted to run to.”
“Is that a bad thing? Wanting to come to me?” Your fingers smoothed over the piercing and he winced a little because of how fresh it was but you didn’t move your touch away, just lessening the pressure you were applying.
“It’s only bad because how much it consumes me sometimes.”
You didn’t ask him to explain what he had meant that day because you figured you knew but apparently you were somehow wrong.
“Y/N? Earth to Y/N, are you still there?” Your friends voice over the line was bringing you back to reality and you assured her you hadn’t left before asking her to repeat whatever it is she had said. “I said that he was totally wrong to do that to you, we all think so.”
For some reason the thought of your friends seeing the same thing as you didn’t make you feel any better.
It actually made you want to curl into a ball ten times worse because you couldn’t blame it on your rose colored glasses if the closest people to you also felt like something was blossoming between the two of you. Your confusion in his abrupt relationship only made you feel sicker and sicker.
I want your things in my room, I miss you all of the time
I stalk myself on the internet just to see what you'll find
I want your things in my room, I miss you all of the time
You make it look so easy, leaving everything behind
Two weeks had passed since Heeseung posted the photo of him and Aubrey with his relationship status being changed right afterwards, glaring harshly at you on your home computers wavering screen.
Your eyebrows furrowed as you studied his expression underneath the grainy edgy filter he applied to it, eyes tracing the squint of his eyes as he smiled brightly and her lips pressed against his cheeks.
He looked happy and that somehow made you feel even sicker.
You wondered if he hadn’t told you about it because he feared your reaction or if he possibly couldn’t bring himself to silently end whatever it was that you felt towards each other. It hurt more than it might’ve a few years ago because you’d finally begun to feel like the two of you were on the same page, managing to be mutually single and interested at the same moment for the first time in all your years of pining.
A dozen near misses were finally leading to something big and concrete.
Or at least you thought so until you logged onto your MySpace account and saw his post, the same one you were glaring at now.
You hadn’t posted anything since you cut off communication with him but you couldn’t help yourself from checking your page and scrolling down it, curious if he’d be concerned over your silence if he ever went to see what you’d been doing with his absence. Maybe he hoped you’d be posting sad song lyrics or actively breaking down on his feed but instead you’d gone completely cold.
It was the only option in your mind considering you never were able to be normal when it came to Heeseung.
The sight of his hoodie on your bed or his left over guitar picks and crumbled up pieces of paper with random doodles scattered around your room was enough to bring you to tears and settle a sick feeling in your gut so you couldn’t imagine trying to sit and type out a post that would read as normal. Perfectly fine and not obsessing over who your friend was dating.
You told yourself that you were mainly caught up on the specifics of it because he hadn’t bothered to tell you about it.
It was worse to find out from a simple post over him sitting you down and letting you know but instead your entire world crumpled with every comment and heart from people who didn’t know him outside of passing him in the halls.
They didn’t know him during those late nights and they didn’t know the way his heart beat harder whenever you brushed your fingers through his hair or met his eyes in a crowded room. The faceless usernames had no idea there was somebody out there absolutely shattering at this simple ‘in a relationship’ post.
You groaned into your hands and shut the computer down without bothering to close his blogs tab, knowing you’d be opening it first thing tomorrow regardless.
You look so cool getting high
No handlebars, you wanna fly
You look so cool, I wanna die
Is it too soon to say what on my mind?
“Hope you brought some bandaids.” His voice was wobbly as he circled around you and you laughed softly at his clear fearfulness, the sound muffled by the straw of your slushy that was clutched between your knees.
“For when you inevitably eat shit?”
He laughed at your bluntness and the action almost caused him to do exactly that, the bike wheel rapidly twisted on the rugged gravel and nearly sending him straight into the rocky parking lot he was currently riding handless around.
One of his hands was occupied with his own extra large slushy from the gas station near you and the other was holding a small joint that was nearly smoked out of existence. You had hated when Heeseung started to smoke and you spent the last few years complaining about the smell of his clothes and scolding you when he left the scent on your pillows.
You’d never tell him that you slowly got used to it, almost liking it as it blended easily with his signature cologne and his naturally aroma that you found yourself leaning into whenever you had a few feet between you.
He rarely smoked infront of you once he realized you genuinely didn’t like it and you were just nagging at him but today was the exception.
Heeseung had turned eighteen today and while your friends had begged and begged him to either throw a party or let them do it in his honor, he had strongly declined. You had been confused considering he was shy to partying and it would definitely be one of the bigger events of the year with how many people would love to gather and get drunk in the honor of Heeseung.
Your confusion was lost when he wrapped himself around your back, arms circling your middle and casually telling your friends he’d rather spend the night hanging out with you like it didn’t completely uproot your existence whenever he said things like that.
You didn’t even doubt the honesty of his answer, genuinely knowing he had more fun in this dirty parking lot with cheap slushees and your company than he would’ve at a huge rager.
“What do I get if I don’t fall?” He was smiling at you as he rounded back into your point of view but he was behind you again before he could see the way your own lips turned up. “Doesn’t that call for a prize?”
“A prize? What would you want?” You watched his eyebrows raised like he was in deep thought and you laughed at the absurdity of him disappearing back behind you as he continued to ride his bikes in circles around you. You didn’t like riding bikes as much as he did but last summer he’d painted a pair of pegs pink for you, sticking them to his otherwise blacked out frame and smiling proudly.
It was something you’d rolled your eyes at and you’d given him a quick thankful kiss on the cheek but you secretly loved standing behind him as he rode you around, hands on his shoulders and the wind blowing through your hair.
You especially loved how happy he was to show you that he’d done it, something that would make you more comfortable when you rode together.
He was humming like he was deep in thought and you waited patiently with your chin resting in your hand, smile bright on your face at his theatrical responses.
“If I don’t fall…. you let me stay at your place tonight.”
Your heart was already starting to beat out of your chest at the soft request and the way his voice got lower like he was waiting for you to reject him. Both of your reactions were ridiculous considering he’d spent the night at your house dozens of times and was over more than he went home but he always asked beforehand.
Something you liked because then it always gave you the opportunity to tell him that he was welcomed.
“I figured that was the plan anyways.” You took a large drink of your slushy after letting the words fall out more casual than you felt and he pressed on the brakes when he was in front of you this time, a wide smile still on his face and genuine easiness radiating off of him.
“You sure know how to make a birthday special.” He was so beautiful when he said that and the way he looked at you made you feel like he genuinely meant what he was saying even if he was just making a joke about your rather simple nature.
Telling him you love him was heavy on your mind and even heavier on your tongue and it took almost everything inside of you not to just blurt it out and accept the brute force of whatever his reaction might be without any preparation. You wanted him to know that his birthday was special, you needed him to know that you loved him and that you wanted to spend every year like this no matter how old you got.
Instead you took another sip of your slushy and let him ride around you until his tire gave out and he was landing on the gravel with a laugh that inspired your own.
You hadn’t know then that you were currently experiencing his birthday with the two of you for the last time and you wondered now if you would have told him back then if you had known. Would it have made a difference or was he always fated to leave?
Did your love story really end with a simple post from his end and the smell of smoke ever fading from the smooth fabric of your pillow cases or was this all some large twisted joke from the universe, one last test of your affection towards each other before you finally stopped nearly missing.
You tried your best to stop thinking about it and him and all the little things he’d left in your room.
#enhypen#enhypen drabbles#enhypen fanfiction#heeseung x reader#heeseung au#enhypen au#heeseung fic#lee heeseung#Spotify
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Slashers! S/O hurt by a victim pt.2
Slashers x gn!reader
Includes Billy Loomis, Bubba Sawyer, Bo Sinclair, Lester Sinclair
Requested? Yes
Warnings: beefy murder boyfriends, hurt/comfort, minor angst, injuries, blood, fluffy shit
Billy Loomis
It was partially his fault, he was careful but didn’t always think everything through
That’s why you were currently in the clutches his supposed to be victim, knife held to your neck, you could feel warmth from your blood seep down the blade and beneath the collar of your shirt. Struggling only made the situation worse, although you couldn’t help the small gasp as more pressure was applied to your current wound
Feral. You’d never seen Billy’s eyes filled with such a look of utter insanity. He’d done despicable things, ruined lives, played with people like they were just there for his entertainment, but this, seeing you so close to the edge he sent so many others, was the final straw to snap whatever piece of him was remotely still human
He fingers clasped the knife tighter in his grasp, curling around the hilt and wishing he could drive it into your captors jugular
“They ain’t part of this!”
Brows pushed down, mouth pulled in a snarl, he went to take the risk and lunge before a choking sound cut the tension rising in the kitchen in half, your body stumbling towards Billy by instinct, comforted by the way he dropped the knife with a clatter and wrapped his arms around your body, hurried to get you as close as possible
Stu stood at the other end of the tiled floor, half smile glimmering as he stared down at the man he’d just disposed of from life
You curled further into your boyfriends chest, unable to shake the fear you’d felt moments before, still able to feel the cold metal pressing into your flesh. One of Billy’s hands worked it’s way up your trembling back, cupping your face as to direct your eyes to his. They were warm, vacant, yet warm when they landed on your wide eyed expression
“That’ll never happen again, you hear me? Never.”
Letting you push your face back into his neck, the killer began rubbing soft circles on your spine, cold gaze frozen on the still body mere feet away. If looks could kill, the man would have several more stab wounds, each more painful than the last
Billy’s eyes fell to the blade he’d planned on using, head tilting ever so slightly as he pondered how it wouldn’t be out of his way to inflict a few lacerations across the face that even would dare to breathe beside you
Bubba Sawyer
Bubba didn’t like you being around victims, during times where he was killing he got reckless, so dazed in his mind and it constantly worried him that in such a state he could mistake you for another and cause you harm
That being said, mistakes happen
Bubba was standing in a bloody puddle, leaking from the headless body beside him. Loose, brown curls fell in his face as he shook his head held by his rough palms, almost cradling himself. He’d been fooled by one of his potential victims, ending up with him alone with a dead body, and someone missing who knew too much.
The others were gonna rip him a new one, he didn’t even want to think about the look on your face. You’d look at him with such pity, you had yet too thus far, but he just knew that expression was soon to fall on your face. How couldn’t it?
The negative wave of thoughts dragging Bubba down were sliced through by a piercing scream, a chill running down his spine before he realized who’s voice it was who made such a sound, he’d recognize it anywhere
No amount of debris, rickety stairs, tables or chairs could keep Bubba from getting to you, all knocked from his path as the lumbering, masked man ran the fastest his legs would go, chainsaw alive and buzzing in his ear
Bubba didn’t even take a second to pause as he took in the scene, still running full force like his life depended on it. Anguish filled his veins, the victim was straddling your cowering body, arms raised to protect against their assault of punches, they were screaming something he didn’t care to hone in on, focused on getting the offender off and away from you
All he saw was red, on his arms, the creases of his hands soaking into the soles of his boots, digging past the fabric at the knee of his pants as he knelt down, pushing the limp, torn and mangled body from atop of you. Fingers trembling, Bubba paused as you sat up in shock, clothing and skin flushed with blood. Scooting until your body was closer to the man, you crumpled into his embrace, letting you arms fall limp, nose digging into his shoulder. Calloused hands clutched the shirt on your back, tugging you closer, you could feel his soft, unintelligible mutters and whimpers pliant into your collar bone
The two of you just sat there, not wanting to be away from each other for even a second after such a close call
Bo Sinclair
Unlike Bubba, Bo likes you beside him nearly every minute. Yeah, sometimes he’s an asshole, but that’s just one of the traits you’ve come to accept as part of the man you love
It was between the moments where you weren’t stuck to his side, or sitting off within his view, that you realized you were at your most vulnerable, unfortunately we all have a lesson that teaches us such
“Where the fuck are my friends?”
A rough, gritty voice yelled from behind you, catching your moment of silence off guard, spinning around, your heart dropped to your stomach as your eyes landed on what you recognized as one of Bo’s victims standing with squared shoulders, but what made it worse was the fact they were holding a gun
The stranger only seemed to seethe with further rage at the look of your confused face, mouth opening and closing like a fish, eyes wide as the gun raised and their finger went to the trigger
Right as the blaring ring of a shot went off, you were thrown to the side by a heavy weight, body landing on the ground with a dull thud and two large hands blocking the bulk of the impact, hands that were gone from your body a second later, dark shadow leaving frame quick as light as loud footsteps echoed after it
“You son of a bitch!”
You knew that voice, rolling over to gaze at the scene right at Bo tackled the victim to the ground, straddling their body and delivering punch after punch, unable to see his face but hearing the loud curses and violent statements he let fly recklessly
Concern, wide eyes found your similarly large ones, knuckles torn and clothes splattered with red. The mechanic practically folded down into you, forehead coming to press against yours, Bo’s thumbs pressed into the skin under each of your ears, tilting your chin up
“Are ya’ alright baby?”
You could only nod, frightened to think you’d nearly been shot, yet comforted by the warm embrace of the killer, his usual stoic gaze softened, searching you over for any scrapes or cuts. Lips press to the crown of your head, you could lightly hear his inhaling your scent, sighing from the exhaustion of the ordeal
“You’re never leaving my sight again”
Lester Sinclair
Lester doesn’t get himself caught up with Bo and Vincent’s business most the time, in fact as much as a talker the man is, he does like to keep to himself
That’s why it’s a surprise when you’re chilling in the passenger seat of the mans car, mindlessly flipping through a magazine, when an unfamiliar voice enters the warm, afternoon air
“Listen buddy, my friends have been gone for hours and you’re the last person they saw, start talking”
You can see out the pickup trucks window the back of someone facing Lester, their fists clenched as he drops the current task at hand. His gaze darts to you, over their shoulder, and it widens when the stranger whips around, hand on the car door handle, throwing it open
“Get out, I’m taking the car”
Your arm is roughly grasped at the bicep, stumbling over your feet when you’re tossed to the leaf covered ground, wincing at your knee slices against a rock. Eyes squeezing shut at the pain, you didn’t even notice the quick steps of Lester behind you, his shadow looming over yours on the ground as a howl of pain became present. In seconds, the once standing stranger slumped to the ground beside you, cold eyes glazed over, a rather vicious yet precise cut to the base of their throat
“Aw darl’, yer knees all cut up”
Lester mumbled, squatting to your height as he looked over the damage, eyes big and clearly worried. Unsettled, that was the best way to describe the look plastered across the mans face, mouth pulled in a deep frown. Still in shock from being so manhandled out of your seat, you wrapped your arms around his neck, nuzzling the underside of his jaw. Never mind the dirt and sweat that caked his skin, it was comforting at this point
“Never lettin’ someone push ya around like that again, ya hear me?”
His rough palms rubbed the expanse of your back, glancing down at the body still inches away growing colder by the minute
“Let’s take care of that knee”
Requests open!
#slasher#slasher x reader#slasher x s/o#slasher x y/n#slashers fanfic#slashers fanfiction#slashers x you#lester sinclair#lester sinclair x you#lester sinclair x reader#bubba saywer x reader#bubba sawyer#bubba sawyer x y/n#bubba sawyer x you#bo sinclair x reader#bo sinclair#bo sinclair x gender neutral reader#bo sinclair x y/n#billy loomis#billy loomis x reader#billy loomis x y/n
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"It's Cold Without You"
Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x reader
Word Count: 2,452
Summary: A perfect description of your psyche while your husband is gone, would be the color blue. When he leaves, he takes the warmth with him, dragging the color orange behind himself, only bringing it and the sunrise upon his return.
Warning(s): Angst and descriptive thoughts of anxiety and death
A/N: It's a little abrupt, but I really wanted to post something. And I also wanted to express a specific energy (my requests r still open)
I am an 18+ Blog.
The house is cold. Maybe it's the slow approach of Winter, or the fact that the heater was busted and you refused to call someone to fix it. But the house wasn't as warm as it usually was. You stopped using the lamps with yellow bulbs, instead opting for either the blinding overhead light, or no light at all. The curtains were perpetually drawn, closing your bedroom off from the world outside, closing you off from the world outside.
Everyday is the same thing on repeat, go to work only to return home. But no matter where you are, you're always miserable. When you're at work you want nothing more than to be at home, wrapped in a blanket of silence and warmth. Though, when you're at your house, you feel lonelier than ever, longing for the human connection of your job and coworkers.
It isn't always like this, the chill in the air. The chill that settles so deeply within your bones your teeth chatter, it isn't typically present. And you know why it's here, but admitting it feels colder than the wind that hits you harshly when you walk outside. Saying it out loud, or even thinking about it for too long makes you feel... shitty, for lack of a better word to describe yourself in your head.
You don't tell him the problems you're having. You especially would never tell him why you are having these issues. Because you know him, inside and out, and you know he'll feel guilty. But you also know yourself well enough to be aware of the fact he knows you just the same. He would so easily see through the facade you have created, look through the walls you've built up as if they were a window pane. This is why you've been dodging his calls, and why he currently thinks you are sick with the flu.
You simply wait, counting the days until he's home, begging time will move faster. And while you lay in bed alone, ponder on the idea that perhaps you're wasting your life. You know it's pathetic, the fact your existence is dependent on the presence of your husband. And you feel horrible, the codependency clawing its way up your throat. It's even worse when you remember you haven't always felt this way, and you don't know what's changed. You don't know why you can't seem to act like yourself when he's gone.
Well, perhaps you do know. You just don't want to admit it. You don't want to admit that you're terrified. You don't want to admit that every time he comes home complaining of a new ailment due to a painful ejection, you get nervous. That every call from one of his superiors, or even one of his colleagues, you have a shock of terror that has your heart beating out of your chest. That you only ever feel comfortable knowing he's alive when he's next to you.
When he's home, it's different. He doesn't realize he does it, but he chases the chill away. The nervousness that wraps itself around your ribs, squeezing until your heart constricts, it lessens. You find yourself distracted by the feeling of his hands on your hips, the pressure of his kisses against your skull, that it all disappears for a moment. But you know, as your ear presses against his chest at night, listening to him breathe, that the problem is still present.
"How do you feel about kids?" He asks one day, standing behind you as you analyze the paint samples for the bathroom after it's remodeling.
And your heart sinks, because you don't know. You don't know if you'd be able to handle a baby with him, let alone when he leaves. How would you be able to calm a crying baby when you consider yourself one when he's gone?
How would you be able to handle his death...?
You think about it a lot. The idea that he will fall to his demise the same way his father did, leaving the same trauma his dad left him, on the child you two have. But you don't know if you're as strong as Carole Bradshaw. You never considered yourself a weak person, but that's what he does. Bradley makes you weak, and you don't know if you'd survive his death. If you'd be able to go on with your life, go back to normal. You don't know if you'd be able to handle your own grief, not to mention teaching your child how to do so.
You don't give him an answer that day, and he lets it go. He's good at that; letting go. It was always something you admired about him, his ability to let things slide over him, continuing on easily. The only exception he had ever displayed, was his attitude towards Pete Mitchel, never letting that go. And you can't help but wonder if you'd do the same thing to your child. Would you hold them back? Perhaps beg Jake Seresin to pull your own sons papers because you'd be so blinded by the grief for Bradley, that you'd stop your own child from achieving his dream as well.
Today is a day like any other, the calendar is marked with a bright red heart exactly six days from now. You tell yourself the house will be clean three days prior to his arrival, and the Bronco will be washed the day before, and you will be presentable the day of. But for now, you hide within the comforter that his smell still lingers on. You've taken the week off, avoiding your job with a simple call that ends with a cough you and your manager know is fake.
Bradley is never early. He's a punctual man. He's never late either. He has a talent of showing up to things at the exact time as expected. And you adore this about him, because you're never nervous about when he'll show up. After ten years together, why would you ever think that would change?
He notices the house is darker and colder than normal. He softly drops his duffel by the door, removing his boots slowly before treading towards the lamp in the living room. And the home looks eerily different. He knows you're sick right now, but he questions the extent of it as he takes in the mess.
Almost all of the dishes are piled in the sink, definitely not the amount someone who has been sick for a little over a week would use in that time. His eyes move from the dishes to the rest of the counter, where mail is scattered. He removes himself from the room, drifting into the laundry room where what can only be your entire wardrobe laying haphazardly in front of the washing machine.
It's not that Bradley ever expected you to be the sole proprietor of the household chores, typically every task being traded between the two of you. But this was clearly out of character for you. He always came home to a spotless house, something he dearly appreciated. Internally he wonders if it's his fault, for coming home too early, but he can't help but be concerned.
His chest constricts when he walks into your shared bedroom to find you, curled into the fetal position sleeping. You look exhausted, even though you're sleeping. For a moment he forgets all about the fact that his back hurts, or the fact he's been wanting to sleep in his own bed for almost two months. All he can think of is you.
"Baby," He whispers, a hand softly against your shoulder. "Honey?"
You awake with a sharp intake of breath, heart beating out of your chest in a panic. Realizing it is your husband and not in fact a murderer, does little to quell your anxieties.
"Bradley?" You blurt, springing up. "What are you doing here? It's not the twelfth is it?" You go to reach for your phone, frustration leaking through your voice. "What are you doing home?"
"I came home early," He exhales, brows knitted in concern as you rush around the room. You're clearly distressed, pacing before you finally stop and run your hands down your face.
"Why?" You dare to ask, voice warbling against your will. "Why are you home early?"
"You sounded like you were really sick, and it was only six days-" He clenches his eyes shut before looking at you with his sad eyes. "What's wrong?"
"You aren't supposed to be home yet." You whisper, crossing your arms. Your face crumbles as you remember the state of the house, the state of yourself.
"Baby if you've been sick longer than you told me, we can go to the hospital," He stands up, stepping towards you. "Something can really be wrong-"
"You're not supposed to be home," You repeat, turning it into a mantra under your breath as you cover your eyes. You can feel the slow burn as tears erupt from your eyes, strong emotions wrapping themselves around you like an octopus around a crab. Faintly, you can feel Bradley's hands touch your shoulders, and the way he rubs up and down doesn't feel the way it normally does. His touch burns your skin, itchy and irritating in a way that makes you want to cry harder.
"Will you let me take you to the doctor?"
"Will you shut up about the hospital?" You hiss, your frustration coming to head as you explode. His hands pull away as you look at him with such venom on your tongue, you can taste it. "God! Why are you home?"
His face twists in confusion, then to his own form of irritation matching yours. He doesn't understand, and typically you'd feel bad because it isn't his fault. But he wasn't supposed to be home yet.
"I don't understand." His mouth is slightly agape as he exhales. "I thought you were sick, you weren't answering my calls, you haven't been to work in two weeks-"
"You called my job?"
"I was worried!" He shouts, and you feel itchy again. "I was worried about you! And evidently I needed to be because the house is a mess-"
This strikes a chord within you. The house is yours. Bradley and you share ownership of it, you bought it together, decorated it together, but it's your domain. Every detail is finalized by you, from the color of the floors to the oven you own. It's yours. And it hurts that he points out how you've mistreated it. It hurts on a deeper level that he thinks this. No matter how much you know it's true.
"Don't you dare talk to me about my house." You can hold yourself back, snapping back at him.
"It's a fucking mess!" He points out, and you know. You know it's true. "It's never like this so clearly something is wrong and I'm worried about you!" You don't know what to do, because you had everything planned out, you knew when things were going to be put back-
And he's home early.
You prided yourself on being able to hide this part of your life from him. Being able to disguise your pain behind a mask of stability, pretending nothing had changed. That you hadn't changed. But now that's all gone. He's taken a peak behind the curtain and now the entire illusion falls apart, like ashes between your fingers.
"I just want you to tell me what's wrong." His voice is lower now, and he knows you're avoiding eye contact. "You've been pulling away, and I'm worried."
You can't bring yourself to lift your eyes from the floor to his face, where you know his eyes are bright regardless of the hurt that paints them.
"Is it me?" He asks, bending slightly to try and put his eyes in your line of sight. "Do you not want me anymore? Us?"
"No-" You can see his heart break in his eyes as you look up. "It's not that. No, Bradley, it's not that." You step closer, harshly laughing at yourself. "It's the opposite."
"I don't understand, honey."
"I love you." You whisper, feeling warmer now as his hands slide to your hips. "I love you so much, there's no one else in the world I'd even consider replacing you with. And I can't imagine my life without you."
He watches you apprehensively, eyes darting to your hands and back up to your eyes.
"I'm scared." You finally let it slip, soft like a prayer, quiet like a secret. He tilts his head slightly, practically begging you to elaborate. "I'm scared, when you leave the house for work in the morning. I'm scared when you go on missions-" your voice cracks harshly. "My heart drops every time Mav calls me instead of you, and when someone knocks on the door."
"I don't..."
"I'm scared that you're going to die soon." You blurt, not missing the way his eyes widen.
"Baby, I'm not going to die-"
"Do you think Goose told Carole that?" You ask, knowing you're crossing a line. Tears blur your vision. "You can't tell me you aren't going to die because you are, and there's nothing I can do to stop it-"
The hug is abrupt, your face being pushed into his neck and your bodies close. You feel nothing other than Bradley, and you can't even bring yourself to apologize as your hot tears drip onto his skin and inevitably his shirt. Your fingers tighten around his back, desperate to have him closer because you don't think he'll ever be close enough unless you're beneath his skin.
You know this conversation isn't done, it's not tied neatly with a bow on top. You know there's an entire can of worms that inevitably will be opened. But for a moment you feel warm again. Heat bubbles beneath your skin, rumbling through your chest as you feel his heart beating against your chest. Reds and oranges fly behind your eyelids in a way that has you breathing easier.
As he silently pulls the both of you to the bed, he hugs you a bit tighter. The smell of him surrounds you in a thick layer, your skin buzzing beneath the feeling of his lips against your forehead. You whine as he pulls away, tucking you in like you're a child.
"We're not done talking about this." He whispers, looking down at you with his sorrowful eyes. "Not even close to being done talking about this."
"Okay," You say softly back, agreeing.
"But you should get some sleep," He advises with a crooked smile. "I'll be here when you wake up."
#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#rooster bradshaw x reader#rooster x reader#top gun x reader#writing#top gun angst#top gun maverick#top gun maverick x reader#tgm fanfiction#tgm fic#tgm x reader#x reader#x reader angst
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More Than You Know
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: werewolf!Vernon x reader
𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, smut, angst, horror au
𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: R (18)+
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: oral (giving and receiving), fingering cursing, mention of a shotgun and blood, minor character death (I made sure not to make it graphic)
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 2.5k
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: A night of fright is no delight, as your boyfriend harbors a secret that changes the trajectory of your lives.
𝐀𝐍: This is for the Halloween event hosted by @kpopsblackcreatorsociety with the full moon prompt. thank you sooooo much to @hobeemin and @wooahaeproductions for reading this over me at the last minute 🖤
Taking naps with Vernon had become one of your favorite pastimes. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, his hand conveniently placed on your butt so he could wake up and grab it whenever he liked. His scent was warm, with a hint of spice that left you feeling invigorated around him. He brought a stillness to your spirit, a light to your soul like a burning candle in the dark. You could depend on him; he had never let you down. He was the perfect guy. There’s just one problem: he is a werewolf.
It’s a secret you have kept to yourself for almost a year now. You weren’t sure how Vernon thought you couldn’t figure it out since you have a master's in mythology and surround yourself with folklore all day long as the professor of folklore in your small town. You noticed that he had to “work late” every full moon, and sometimes he would come home with bruises all over him. Vernon did security at the local club in your small town, so you first thought he got into scuffles with drunks. But one night, you went to surprise him at his old house, and he was in mid-transformation. His backbones formed into one of an animal, and you got the hell out of dodge before he fully developed. You weren’t sure if he could control himself once in that feral state, but you weren’t stupid enough to find out.
He doesn’t know that you know these things, and you aren’t sure how to bring it up to him. It’s awkward for you and especially for him, as you know it’s hereditary. You only know the history that he has told you and what you have dug up in the archives at the local library. Your relationship is solid, and you are in love with him, but in the back of your mind, you wonder if he would ever hurt you. You had to prepare yourself for that with silver bullets if it happened.
“Hey.”
Vernon mutters something unintelligible that makes you giggle, his lips barely brushing against your forehead. Not wanting to get out of his embrace, you reluctantly move his arm from across your body, slowly getting up and grabbing your phone. You look at the time and curse, realizing it's a quarter until seven, and you overslept. You meant to make him dinner before he headed out for the evening; you try to do what you can to make nights during the full moon a bit easier for him. It’s the least you can do to care for him without him knowing, you know. I guess I can make him a steak, you think to yourself as you brush your teeth. You are so lost in thought about tonight’s worries that you don’t notice Vernon get out of bed, sneaking up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist.
“Sorry, I overslept,” you pout, rinsing your mouth.
“Don’t worry about it, baby.” His sweet voice pulls at your heartstrings. “You do enough for me as it is.”
He turns you around, kissing you amorously, his manly hands sliding up your butt and squeezing it nicely. His thumb flirts with the hem of your shorts, sending chills through your body as he pulls them down and exposes your bare bottom. His eyes widen at the pretty sight, slowly getting on his knees and coming face with your center. Vernon loves it when you don’t wear any panties, as it gives him an excuse to eat you out whenever he wants.
“Why do you do this to me?” He whispers, licking his lips.
“Because you like it.”
Your mouth curves into a mischievous grin as you feel him greet your clit with his tongue, a sigh of satisfaction escaping your lips. Your hand caresses the back of his head as he takes care of you, sucking on you like a starved, dehydrated man. He cares for you so well, holding your legs with his hands without losing his grip. Maybe it is the beast in him that has him eating you so well, but you aren’t complaining.
“Vernon,” you moan. “ I love you.”
This was his way of showing he loved you back, eating you out sweetly but rough enough to send you to the clouds. His nails start to dig into your thighs, lapping up your juices with some of it dripping down his chin. You feel good, light as a feather, as your eyes roll to the back of your head.
“Do you like the way I take care of my girl?” His voice is sultry, taunting you as your legs start to shake.
“Y-yes,” you nod desperately. “You are the best I’ve ever had.”
Feeling him smirk against your inner thigh, you gasp when he slips his fingers inside, moving them in a way that drives you crazy. Your own fingers are entangled in his hair, and your whimpers and moans serenade your bathroom until you reach your peak shortly after. You keep grinding your hips to his movements until your body forces you to stop. Vernon finds this amusing, watching you babble incoherently while he stands you up and slowly takes off your clothes. He always said you looked so cute when you came, and all he wanted to do was protect you like you were a doll. How can you not fall in love with a guy like that? I’d fall in love with him!
“I love you,” he kisses your temple. “But I gotta shower and head out the door. Let’s take a shower together.”
You nod as he turns on the shower head, getting in first and letting the water hit your body. He comes in shortly after, his defined abs flexing with every movement he makes. You love Vernon enough not to let him leave the house unsatisfied, so you take it upon yourself to get on your knees and suck his cock until he fills your mouth with his cum. His rough strokes and needy whines make you feel you’re wanted in a way like no one else would be able to do this better than you can. It’s arrogant, you know it, but to be quite honest, you didn’t give a damn.
He finishes, leaving playful kisses all over your face, giving you a temporary distraction about the impending full moon and whether he will be okay. It’s not an ordinary moon, as it's called the Hunter’s Moon. Legend has it that the moon is bright and long enough for the hunter to stalk its prey. You look outside the window; the yellow orb shines like a beacon in the darkness. The trees sway with the wind, sending a chill down your spine that feels unnatural. You quickly leave the shower, change into comfortable sweats and a tank top, and head downstairs to locate your gun. You feel relieved finding it where you last left it, a pump action shotgun you hid behind your bookshelf that you could grab in case of emergency. You hate feeling like you are in survival mode, but if there is anything that your masters in mythology taught you, it is that you have to expect the unexpected.
“Babe.”
You meet Vernon in the living room, where he is dressed for “work” in loose-fitted clothes and a taser gun in his holster. You feel uneasy, a sickening pit in your stomach like something will go wrong tonight. If only you could talk to him about what you know, it would make you feel better about this situation.
“I need your help with my shoe,” he announces, pointing at his right foot.
“Wha—”
Before you can register what’s happening, Vernon pulls you into his lap, kissing you passionately as if he were going on a long trip. You instantly melt in his arms, your heart swelling with the amount of love you have for him.
“I love you, okay?” he whispers.
“I know,” you clear your throat. “Be careful out there, please. Come home to me in one piece.”
He nods, walking out the door and pulling out of the driveway. You occupied yourself while Vernon was gone by cleaning your house from top to bottom and baking a devil’s food cake.
You don’t bake often, but you need a distraction from tonight, and this was the best you could think of. Watching TV didn't work, as every channel was related to something supernatural or Halloween-related. You took your sweet time baking this treat, smoothing the chocolate frosting over each cake layer. Vernon will love this, you thought to yourself as you set it out on the counter. Chocolate was his favorite thing in the world, and you wanted him to eat something that felt like home after a long night.
By the time you finished everything, it was well past midnight. Several yawns and another shower later, you collapse on the bed from fatigue. Silence takes over your space; you can’t even hear a cricket. Please, god, bring him home safe, you prayed as you cuddled into your blanket. Your wish couldn’t have been more ominous as a mist starts to circle the moon.
BANG!
A crash came from outside, followed by scrapes and bangs, waking you from deep slumber. You fumble around in the dark, locating your phone and looking at the time. Great, it's almost five, you grumble as you put on your slippers. The obnoxious noise gets louder as you go downstairs, irritating you further as you have dealt with raccoons digging in your trash before. You survey your living room and kitchen, ensuring the noise isn’t coming from inside. You amble to your back door, flipping the switch on to give yourself more light. However, the lightbulb flickers and sparks before it goes out completely. Your paranoia kicks in, and your heart beats faster. You have seen enough scary movies to know what could happen. Grabbing a bat next to the door, you peek out of the window, your hand slowly turning on the knob. Waiting a few more seconds, you swing the door open, ready to face what awaits you outside.
“Hello?” You call out.
Nothing. Silence.
You slowly walk around your property, holding your breath until you locate the knocked-over trash cans with yesterday’s lunch sprawled in the dirt. Irritated, you mumble profanities that would make Jesus blush and clean everything spilled. Earth and condiments are pressed deep in your fingernails, filling you with a disgust that disturbs your spirit. This isn’t how you wanted to start your day.
You slowly return to the house, that familiar chill taking over you again, followed by a musky scent. You cling onto the bat tighter, unable to shake this horrible feeling that something is out there, waiting for you at your door. Unfortunately, you were right, as a shadowy figure emerged from the darkness, paired with menacing yellow eyes. It stepped closer to you; the moonlight revealed a hairy wolf with large teeth salivating at the mouth.
“Oh FUCK!”
You ran like hell, knowing your life was on the line. Debris kicked up from the ground as you ran in the opposite direction. The wolf pounces off the porch, running after you like a stalker has finally found its prey. Your adrenaline is pumping, and you know you are on borrowed time, but you are determined to live. No matter what.
It catches up to you quickly, its footsteps getting louder until it eventually jumps over you, cornering you against the back of the house. It crouches as it prepares to attack, and you hold on to the bat for dear life, ready to knock its head off if you are lucky. The gnarly beast pounces, and you swing as hard as you can, missing its head by an inch, not because your aim sucks: but because another wolf attacked it.
A brown wolf with a beautiful coat tackles the other, dragging it by its teeth away from you. Your eyes widen in shock, trying to register getting attacked by a wolf, let alone getting saved by another. You watch them go at it, taking each other's hits blow for blow, howling into the silent night. Scurrying from the house siding, you run back inside, grabbing your shotgun from behind the bookshelf. Breaking the action to make sure the bullets are still inside, you close it and run back outside, ready to face what’s ahead.
Someone’s going to be leaving this Earth tonight, and it ain't gonna be me.
You walk up to the wolves with a new resolve, aiming your gun at the wolf that attacked you. The brown one looks at you for a split second, a mistake he would pay for, as the other wolf bites him in the shoulder, letting out a blood-curdling whine. Its paw flings up in the air, revealing a heart-shaped mark you could recognize from anywhere. You could feel all the color drain from your face.
“Vernon?”
It whimpers in response, setting off a fire in your spirit you never knew you had. Aiming at the other wolf, you tuck the gun underneath your shoulder and pull the trigger, putting the ferocious beast down with one shot. The brown wolf managed to get up, blood oozing from its right side, though it looked like it was starting to heal. You collapse on the ground, and it limps over to you, affectionately rubbing its head against yours.
“Vernon? Is that really you?”
It grunts in response, and you shake your head, letting out a long sigh.
“You never should’ve fucking left,” you say in frustration.
He howls at the lowering moon, and you slowly rise, returning to your house and leaving Vernon. Even in your tired state, you still shower and scrub yourself clean of the battle you just endured. You think about the answers you now have to your theories, but now you have so many questions. How was Vernon able to keep his state of mind? And who was that wolf that attacked you in the first place? All these scenarios ran in your mind until dawn, and you heard footsteps coming up the stairs. You grab your gun reflexively, not letting it go until a familiar face walks through the door.
“Baby, I’m sorry—”
“Vernon, stop,” your voice is hoarse, fatigue finally catching up with you. “I know you are sorry, and we will definitely talk about it, but right now, I need some fucking sleep.”
Setting the gun down, you climb into bed, grabbing your laptop to alert the proper channels that class will be canceled for today. You hear him get in the shower, and your heart sinks, feeling wrong about being snappy with him. But you still are shocked about everything that happened; it feels like a dream or a random True Blood episode. Maybe if he had told you what he was, you could’ve prepared yourself better. But you also get that telling someone this can be hard and scare them away. You feel like an asshole.
Vernon gets out of the shower as you close out your computer, and you move over to let him in. You can tell this is bothering him, and despite being mad as hell and still not understanding everything, you still love him.
“I won’t leave you, okay?” You assure him.
Setting your head on his chest, you hear his heartbeat, an unusual melody that would alarm the average person: something Vernon is not. As he plays with your hair, you feel relaxed and eventually go back to sleep, too tired to figure out everything that happened this morning.
#svthub#kvanity#kwritersworldnet#svt fanfic#svt oneshot#svt scenarios#svt imagines#vernon fanfic#vernon smut#vernon angst#vernon fluff#vernon x reader#vernon imagines#vernon scenarios#svt smut#svt angst#svt fluff#svt horror#svt x reader#ksmutsociety#seventeen smut
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would you write something with the song “take me to church* from hozier, between reader and larissa?🤍
𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐓𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐌𝐲 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐬, 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐊𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐞
𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 - [𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝟏𝟖+]
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Larissa Weems x Outcast f!reader
words: ~2.3k
𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: LYRIC FIC, angst, fluff, nsfw: dom!Larissa, sub!Reader, marking, scratching, reader receiving, homophobia, description of anxiety, injury, blood, parental abuse, good ending (depending how you look at it)
summer: see above
masterlist
AO3 link in title
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𝐚/𝐧: I HAVE BEEN BEGGING FOR THE FREE TIME TO WRITE THIS ONEEEEEE!! Hozier is definately someone that I want to get into more and this has given me that opportunity hehe. If you follow me on other socials, you'll know that I'm actually seeing him in concert in november with dog and bug - im so fucking excited. Lyrics are jumbled but in order of the song. Enjoy x
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Larissa pressed you against the soft cushions of your living room couch, her body fitting perfectly with yours as she rested between your thighs. A cold chill ran against your skin as soft, gentle hands explored the canvas you pushed forward, tracing over every dip, every scratch, every smooth expanse that your body had to offer. Her hand wrapped around you, your back arching as she pulled you up and consumed you with her touch.
If the Heavens ever did speak..
Her lips trailed down your jawline, starved kisses making their claim against the beautiful skin that housed your sinful soul. A whimper left your throat as her tongue met your pulse point, flattening and licking a long stripe up to your ear. Her voice was low as she spoke, a deep rumble in her chest projecting itself into desire dripping with lust. "Don't hide those delicious sounds from me, my darling.."
She's the last true mouthpiece..
Her hands traveled down your sides, tracing her fingertips down to your thighs as goosebumps were left in their wake. Her lips made their way down, down, down, her hot breath igniting a wave of electricity to shoot down to your core. Her tongue swiped over your right bud, swirling around the sensitive skin before capturing it in her mouth. An unadulterated moan left your lips as she sucked, your back arching into her ministrations as one of her hands toyed with the other.
The only Heaven I'll be sent to..
She gave the other bud the same amount of attention, pulling back after and admiring just how delectable you looked underneath her. A deep blush covered your features as your chest heaved, your eyes were dark and full of lust, full of want, full of the need to have her take all of you. She traced her fingers lightly along all the marks that were littered against your skin, appreciating them as though they were the most beautiful pieces of art that she'd ever made.
Is when I'm alone with you..
"Please.." The word left your lips weakly, merely above a whisper and contrasting the fire that burned within your lungs. It spurred her on, causing a sinister smirk to rise on her lips as she lowered her head between your thighs, facing where you needed her the most. Her lips ghosted along your inner thighs, your heart jumping to your throat as the need for her grew by the second. She placed kisses against your core, letting out a hum as the juices that managed to spill out made a presence against her lips. Her tongue ran through your folds, your nails sweetly digging into her shoulders as her tongue met your bundle of nerves.
Command me to be well..
The sounds she was capable of forcing out of your throat were sinful, and it was then that you realized how lucky you were to worship a goddess as unholy as her. Your back arched as she sucked your clit, the sensation coursing through your body and tearing a broken moan from your lungs. Her fingers teased your entrance, collecting your juices like a nectar before easily slipping into your core.
I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies..
Your eyes fluttered shut as ecstasy took hold of your being, taking you in its corrupted grip as you begged to see stars. Her nails dug into your thigh, eliciting a hiss from you as the succulent pain kept you in the moment, kept you in the pleasure, kept you with her. A warmth slowly consumed your being, spreading to all ends of your soul and building you up with each curl of her fingers.
Her speed quickened as you got lost in the pleasure she provided you, the sight before her becoming an addiction she would dive into time and time again. Your body looked intoxicating under her touch as her limbs fit perfectly with yours. She continued a ruthless pace, pulling her name out from you in moans and whimpers and she built you to the wonderful edge. Your peak quickly approached, the pleasure slamming into you as your mind got lost in it, the entirety of reality fading away. Your body shook as you came, your mere existence being overcasted by the pure bliss that rippled through you.
I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife..
A loud knock at the front door stole you from the hold of ecstasy, another set of knocks following and making you sober up. You both rushed to gather your clothes, picking everything up and becoming presentable before peeking through the blinds to see who still stood behind it, not knowing who would come up as you took the two of your to visit your hometown. All had gone well so far, though.. you were just forced to face the inevitable, the sight causing your heart dropping to your feet and your blood slow in your veins.
Offer me that deathless death..
Your parents stood behind the door, the tension building itself and closing up your throat at the thought that the only thing keeping you separated was a piece of wood. Your relationship with them wasn't the best and you were hoping that they wouldn't catch wind of you being there, let alone catch you with your lover. You turned to Larissa as panic rushed through your veins.
"You-" You cupped her face in your hands, gently rubbing your thumbs across her cheeks. Tears threatened to fall from your eyes as every horrible thing they used to do to you came flooding back. They would never accept you, and if they saw this? You were sure you wouldn't see the light of day again. "You need to go.. please.."
Good God, let me give you my life..
A wave of confusion consumed her, the worry in your features stilling her blood as she realized exactly what you meant. "I- No. I can't leave you with them-"
"They'll kill you-"
"They'll kill you!"
A silence filled the room, and you hoped for everything wrong to fade from existence as you looked into her eyes. They were so full of concern, so scared for what would happen, so scared to leave you. "Meet me at the spot by the river.. I promise, Larissa.. I'll be there. Please.."
The moment in which she realized she didn't have a choice settled in her bones and made her soul feel heavy. Another set of knocks echoed off the walls of your found sanctuary, pushing reality, pushing dread, pushing hate to the forefront of your minds. You led her to the backdoor, urging her to get there safely as she slowly disappeared from your view.
My lover's the sunlight..
You'd do anything to protect her, especially from the entities that stood just a few feet away. Your hand grasped the doorknob, everything stilling as you turned and opened the door. "Oh! Hi.. Sorry, I was-"
They pushed themselves in, forcing their existence in your temporary home, sucking the safety out of it as they walked deeper into the house. Your father spoke, his voice never straying far from demanding."Why didn't you tell us you were here?"
She demands a sacrifice..
They settled around the kitchen island, your mom placing her bag down as your dad leaned against the countertop, both facing you and demanding explanations in the end.
"I'm here for work-"
"Bullshit," your mom spat out, venom lacing her voice. "No one would come to a small town like this just for work."
"You'd actually be surprised.." You trailed off as you rested against the opposite counter, never making the mistake of not facing them while speaking again. You had done so once, and the aftermath was nothing less than swollen. "There's a lot you can do with the outcast-"
"You're still on about that? When are you gonna move on from them?"
"Maybe the day I become a normie.."
Your head was harshly turned to the side as a solid smack made way against your cheek, the familiar feeling of your fathers ring slicing up the skin and allowing a burn to settle there. You rose a hand to your cheek, touching lightly before wincing, a warm feeling soaking into your fingerprints. You didn't even need to look to know what had happened.
Something meaty for the main course..
"You are not different, y/n! Do you hear me?" Your fathers voice boomed through the kitchen, successfully stealing the breath from your lungs as your eyes shut in fear. Your hands trembled and you gripped the edge of the counter behind you to ground yourself, before looking into his eyes for what felt like the first time in your life.
"I'm done being erased by you.." Your voice was weak, lost somewhere in your throat but was pushed out by the feeling of finally being able to be yourself, the feeling of finally being able to live with Larissa, to truly live with her. "You've taken too much from me, and I want it back."
Confidence brought your posture up, your soul projecting itself to stand your ground. Laughs were reflected back at you, forcing anger through your veins as each one escaped their throat. Your stance wavered, and your mother took the opportunity to grip you by the collar of your shit, bringing you the closest to her that you've been in years.
She took you in, took in the fire that burned behind your eyes, took in the dread that coursed through your veins, took in the way that you didn't back down this time.. Her eyes scanned along your features, landing at the base of your neck that was now exposed to her. "You're here with a woman!"
That looks tasty..
Another hard smack landed on your face, making pain radiate against your cheekbone. You took in a breath, shaking it in your throat before it settled in your lungs. Your eyes were trained down to her feet, and you knew there was nothing you could say.. She'd seen the marks..
That looks plenty..
"I didn't want-" You were cut off by another one, this time being shoved against the counter behind you and forced to look into her eyes. Your head throbbed as the room spun every so slightly.
"You have no right to speak.. You have no right to be part of this family." She paused, allowing her words to situate themselves in your ears.
This is hungry work..
"I never was-" The last one to every grace you was planted against your skin. Your soul screamed with the knowledge, but your body wildly contrasted the feeling as tears streamed down your face, the salt burning the open wound before you shot your gaze up to your mother.
"Leave."
Take me to church..
You walked forward, pressing her against the other counter before clawing her hands off you. The action shocked them both, and it was then that your parents realized that they no longer had you under their control - you worshipped one goddess, and it was your goal to get back to her.
"Y/n.. wait.. we only-"
"Leave! You said it yourself. I'm not part of this family, and I'm enacting that statement now. Get out of my house."
You forced them out the door, grabbing them by the arms and shoving them out, causing them to trip over their own feet as the door slammed behind them - the image of who they were in your life quickly slipping away as a fresh breath filled your lungs.
You ran through the house, from the front door to the back one and jumped past the steps. You needed to get back to her.
Only then I am human..
Your feet met the hard ground beneath you, rocks and leaves getting blown away with the urgency found within your steps. The cool air filled your lungs, a burning feeling making way to your throat with every breath. You stopped at the top of the hill, taking in the sight in front of you as you took a moment to catch your breath.
Only then I am clean..
The sun was setting, casting the valley in a golden glow, your lover stood at the edge of the river, the rushing water filling your ears as you watched her run her hands through the clear liquid, her hair glowed along with the light, and her features ran soft even though there was a filter of worry that overcasted them.
You made your way over to her, the shuffling of your body causing her to shoot her gaze in your direction. A bright smile met her lips as she stood up and rushed over to you, soon being overshadowed in the worry that quickly consumed her.
Amen, Amen, Amen
She cupped your face gently, taking in the intensity of your wound as you watched her eyes scan over every aspect of your face. "How-"
"They're not going to bother us anymore.." You sunk into her touch, pressing the uninjured side your face against her palm as you closed your eyes, your hands shooting up to hold hers as your thumbs rubbed against her knuckles.
You were quickly consumed into a soul crushing hug, the air knocking out of your lungs as a small yelp left your lips. You quickly started laughing as you squeezed her back, the love your felt for each other radiating off your skin. She turned her head, resting it on your shoulder before speaking. "Let's go back.. Let me take care of you, love."
A smile rose to your lips as your turned your head just as she did moments before. You already felt the safety echo through your chest, bouncing across your ribcage and settling into your heart. A light chuckle left you as your locked eyes with hers. "Yeah.. Let's go.."
Good God, let me give you my life..
~~
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𝐚/𝐧: THIS WAS SO FUCKING FUN TO WRITE HELLO?
it does get a bit heavy in the middle but after rewatching the music video I needed to display some of the emotions from that and was inspired and ended up with this hehe.
thank you for this ask ! im sorry I havent been posting as much but again im a wokring college student so I know yall will understand. I absolutely love it in this community and always love when I get to write for you all :)
hope you liked it !
x
~ 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐯𝐲𝐧
✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧
𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: (tagged anyone who asked/wanted to be on the "all works" taglist)
@eveymay @weemssapphic @readingtheentrails @finnja555 @barbarasstar @s-c-rambledegggs @vendocrap8008 @gwendolinechristieiscute @lvinhs @lilfartbox1 @agathaandgwenslesbian
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#crowravencrow#larissa weems#larissa weems x reader#principal larissa weems#principal weems#larissa x reader#principal weems x reader#principal larissa weems x reader#larissa weems x y/n#larissa weems smut#principal larissa weems smut#larissa x you#larissa x y/n#larissa weems x female reader#angst#songfic#song fic#take me to church#hozier#hozier lyrics#lyric fic#lyricfic#wlw fanfiction#wlw fanfic#anon#anonymous#anon ask#anonim#asks#answered
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BRAVERY
𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
Demon Alastor x human reader.
๑ | Navigation : where a human summoned a certain demon and both created a deal, where one who seek for protection of her and her family and while the other who see for her body and soul. The demon demands to have her soul to hell from time to time and in order to do that, they share a ring whenever one wants to leave earth or wants to leave earth. Two pairs became close but the other one developed more.
๑ | Tw : angst, unrequited love, swearing
If the word "idiocy" is an understatement at your state right now then, a fool would be the best. Your little curious human mind stumbled upon an old abandoned cabin upon strolling around the woods of Louisiana on New Orleans.
You and your family moved on New Orleans just a month ago and getting bored of being inside of the house, you decided to stroll around then saw an old cabin then went in there.
Upon arriving inside, a sickening chills electrocuted your nerves as your doe eyes wondered around the cabin, dolls, voodos and a book on a pentagram greted your sight.
Normal people would have choosen to flight the place and forget about it, but you, you let the curiosity get the best of you and decided to take the book and eximine it.
Stumbling to a certain spell, you decided to try it.
Did it work? Well, unfortunately, it did. And nownhere you are, shaking under the heated gaze of a deer demon in front of you with its sickening grin.
It radio static voice echoed through the cabin as it asked for what your wish is. It took you a solid minute when answering his question, refusing to believe the sight in front of you.
The stag was getting clearly irritated due to its knitted brows and strained grin. But instead of wishing quickly, you broke into a sprint leaving the cabin with an irritated demon.
Two night have passed, nightmares have been visiting your dreams. The sight of the deer demon haunted your dreams for two long nights. Dark presence and shadows would look around the room in the depths of the night. It made you restless and very exhausted.
Your family started to get worried at the bags under your eyes and your lack of energy, but you refuse to tell them the exact reason for them being religious and would have you an earful of scolding.
You sighed as you hugged your blanket around your form as you tried to calm you racing heart to your chest as you stared at the forming dark shadow on the corner of the room.
You can see face, nor eyes but you feel it's staring at you.
You took a shaky depend breath as you clutched your blanket, too scared to move that it might pounce on you if you made any slight movements. You tried to fight of the fear creeping out of your heart since your grandparents always tells you that, fear feuls a demons hunger more. But clearly your failing miserably at it.
" are you just gonna stare at me all night or will you state what you desire most and seal the deal? " you almost screamed your heart out at the radio static kind of voice if it weren't for a shadow covering your mouth before you let out the scream.
" careful now my dear, we wouldn't want to cause troubles to you parents now we? " the voice mocked before it stepped out of the corner revealing the oh-so-mighty-deer-demon you summoned two nights ago.
You breath heavily as you squirmed to its shadow, you felt your heart stopped as he got closer to your height with a menacing grin.
" look darling, tasting and witnessing your fear and frustrations and all but I have a business to attend to back to my place, it would have been done perfectly finished if it weren't from you rudely interrupting me by summoning. " be breath out as he grabbed your jaw, claws digging to your cheeks as you let out a whimper.
" and you know what I loathed the most? " he growled " that is mindless fawns who interrupts me in the middle of my work for something useless. " he growled again and emphasizing the "mindless fawns".
He let's go of your jaw as he leans back and placing his arms behind his back elegantly.
" now, let's make this quick. " he smiled with a half-liffed eyes.
" you give me your wish and I can fulfill it, anything you want. And by anything, I mean I can give everything. " he hummed as he walked over your bed.
" fame, your love, money, protection , to kill for you—" he stopped in front of your bed " You name it! "
" and in exchange, I'll have your soul. " he grinned menacingly down at you.
" so do we have a deal? " he leaned down once again with his hand stretched out for you to take. You stared at his claws where a soft green glow emitting his hand.
" i-.. I.. " he quirkee a brow at your stutters as he patiently waited for your response.
You thought for a moment about this, it seems like you have no escaped to the action you made. So you swallowed your fear as you took a deep breath.
" m.. May I add something.. F-for my deal? "
" of course darling! Darling you'd like! "
You took your time collecting enough courage to speak as you met his eyes again.
" i- I would like to add to our deal.. That.. You.. To never touch any of my family nor love ones and friends. T-their souls are their to keep and protect them to at all costs! But never make any contact with then unless it's protection. And I still get to do whatever I want after you own my soul! " you rambled as you out up a brave face at the demoness in front of you.
The demon let out a dark chuckled as he retracted his hand.
" now that wouldn't be really fair, now is it darling? "
Your heart stopped for a moment after you thought for another way to still keep your freedom.
" how about this.. I will gave my all to you and you give your all to me.. W-well apart from that is way pass your comfort ,t-that is.. " you squeaked out feeling very embarrassed at your choices of words.
The stag grinned devilishly as he filter his head to the side.
" anything? "
" a-anything.. "
He smirked as he grabbed your hand.
" I would also would love to add in terms for me— " he cooed as he squeezed your hand " I would like to bring your body and soul to hell, with me in how many times I would like. " he grinned.
" wait-thats possible? -"
" in my power, it is. " he smiled.
" but- I'm quite a busy gal, and I'm still a student and a dancer. I can't be always available. " you explained.
" oh? Then night time. "
" my training and contests are in night time.. " you squeaked out.
The stag quirk a brow at you as you thought quickly for a solution.
" h-how about you uh.. Give me something like a ring or any accessories that would let me know if you're coming here or will take me to hell..something that I can still give you a response whether I'm in training or not.."
He gave you a look for a moment before pulling your hand making you crash into his chest.
" fair enough. " he grinned as grin glow emitts the room as a glowing green collar snapped to your neck as the chain leash appeared on the stage hand.
" pleasure doing business to you , dear darling~" he cooed as he yanked the chain making you pulled closer inches from his nose.
" now get the name of the lovely gal I'll be doing business with? I didn't got the chance to get it from two nights ago when you decided to rudely cut the conversation by running. " he chuckled darkly.
You gulped as you let out a strained voice due to the collar on your neck.
" y-y/n.."
"Y/n." He purred, you felt your stomach tingles at the sound of your name rolling smoothly to his tongue.
" quite a lovely name for a lovely gal indeed! " he smiled as he let go of the leash and then it vanished as you dropped to your bed, coughing.
" the names alastor darling, pleasure to meet you, quit a pleasure! " he exclaimed as he watched your coughing form.
" now that the deals is set, I would love to go back to my place and continue.. My unfinished business.. I'll see you when I can.. Little doe " he cooed as he melts in to the darkness.
For the last couple of days, alastor fulfilled his part of the deal, your family got raising pays to their jobs on Louisiana, you were popular to your school, no one dared to disrespect you, you were the catch and the talk of the school. Though one thing you didn't like is.. The attention, unfortunately, you were quite introverted one.
It's been a couple of days too since you've seen alastor, but you didn't mind. You're still not quite used of his presence, just after knowing that you summoned an overlord.
When he yet again made an appearance to your kitchen, you almost screamed half to death upon seeing a very tall red grinning demon in front of you.
You clutched your chest as you were hunched over with your other hand on the table supporting yourself from you knees getting weak from the scare, you wheezed as you glare at the demon who was grinning in amusement at your startled form.
" fucking HELL never to that again! " you painted as you clutched your racing heart.
" you almost made me face the golden hates of heaven with your stunt! Jeez! "
The stag chuckled as you sat on the chair finally calming your heart.
" fuck.. I think I hear the seven trumpets of heaven. "
" language dear, language. " the stag chuckled as he made his way beside you as you calmed your breathing.
" (insert your language). " you answered sarcastically as you quirked a brow at you.
" so what brings you here? "
" what? Can't I just visit and see how my darling doe doing? " he cooed as he leaned over your seat.
" well I was doing fine that is until you decided to appear out of nowhere and scared the living daylight out of me! " you huffed as you received a laugh from the said demon.
" now now my dear, for the real matter of why I am here it's because.. I would like to take you to hell with me from this moment? "
" why? "
" well just because, no come along. "
" wai-! " before you could protest, you could feel yourself slowly getting succumbed through the darkness as you closed your eyes and feel yourself falling, when you felt the hard ground you stumbled over your stance and landed on your butt as you rubbed your head from a nausea kicking it due to the transportation and the switching realms.
" you could have atleast.. Warned me. " you mumbled and earned an amused laugh from the demon. When you opened your eyes, you were greeted with more demons shocked faces, one was a Blondie, a moth, cat, Cyclops, and a serpent.. And holy fuck- spider. You felt chills crawled in your spine as you saw the spider demon.
Overall upon meeting them, they were nice, especially the blonde, you also got to hang out with the spider who's name was angel. He was nice, the cat gave you an pity look which you understand clearly, the moth gave you a worried look. But overall, their very nice. You like them. And when you first met Rosie and the cannibal town, they almost launched themselves to you when the certain overlord threatened them. You liked Rosie, Rosie liked you, though sometimes she's scary.
Then before you know it, it's been 4 years since you met alastor and the hazbin hotel. You're on your last year as a collage student now. Your relationship with the stag became quite close too, especially you. You've grown very attached to the radio demon and so was he. But yours was differently.
Alastor have also witnessed your very worse and your greatest, he had seen everything. Apart from the feelings you held for the said man.
Alastor have given you advices here and there, quotes, riddles and more. You were also there when the extermination happened 3 years ago, you faced your fears that time like the stag adviced you, sadly you lost one friend in that faithful day.
Right now, it was yet another normal day with you on the radio tower copying your notes while alastor busied hismelf with broadcasting. When you finished, our let out a sigh as you stretched out your limbs as alastor ended his broadcast. You stared at the ceiling of the radio tower as your feelings for him gets strongly as the more seconds you spend with him.
" hey al? " you called for him which he answered with a hum, examining his papers.
" you remember the advice you gave me with my fears right? "
" certainly darling, I do, how can I forget when I always reminds you with it. " he chuckled which you laughed softly at his response.
"I wanna do something brave today."
" oh? Mind enlightening me about it? "
"...well.. I have this one fear I have been holding for 3 years now. "
" go on dear" he hummed as he scribbled to his papers.
You went quiet for a moment as you felt your heart race.
" dear? " he called out to you, realizing you're not answering, he set down his papers as he walked to the couch in front of his broadcasting station and sat in front of you.
" darling? " you finally snapped out of you trance as you meet his eyes. You but your lower lip as you sighed.
" I... You-.. From-.. Ugh for fuck sake- " you groaned from you last sentence with your hand flying over your face in frustration. You took out a heavy sigh as you stared at him directly in the eye as you feel heat crept out to your cheeks.
Alastor quirk a brow at your actions.
" are you alright sweetheart? If your not comfortable enough with sharing this information then you don't have too. Give it a time. " fuck- how can you not fall for this demon when his-his like this?!
It's so wrong but you can't help it.. No man have ever treated you as the same as he treated you.
You felt your lip quiver as you sigh, muttering a small "fuck it".
" alastor.. "
" yes sweetheart? "
".. I-... " you paused as you gripped at the hem of your oversized T-shirt. " I love you. "
The sound of radio scratching erupted across the room making you since as you shamefully avoided his gaze. He was quiet, he went quite. No response or what's over, just an Increasing sound of white radio static.
" I.... I have loved you.. F-for the third years of our meetings.. I know it's very wrong to feel this way for a demon.. Especially I'm a human. " you rambled as you looked down on your lap, your hands gripping at your pants.
" I loved you for.. For you, I don't exactly know- but it just happened. Everything you just did for me, apart from the deal just made me fall for you? I don't know.. This was never ment to happen.. But.. Here I am. " you laughed dryly.
" I know you will never reciprocate this feeling since.. You never have been familiar with this types of emotions..but.. I just want this feelings out and known. " you took a deep breath as you finally met his eyes who was staring at you with wide eyes and strained smile, his ears were laying flat to his head.
" I.. I love you all.. I really do. " you smiled bitterly.
" you don't have to response.. You don't have to answer since I clearly know the answer.. " you tried to keep your voice straight but miserably failing since there are possibilities of him avoiding you for the rest of your life because of you stupid little feelings towards him.
" but... The-.. There's one thing... I wish.. Is.. For us.. To.. " at this point tears were already spilling to your eyes.
" for us.. To.. Not.. " you sobbed.
You sniffles as you hugged yourself as you tried to contain your tears. You wished he would swallow up his pride and embrace you and comfort you, but sadly, you know darling too well he won't.
And before you knew it, you found yourself back in your room.
" i-.. I'm sorry.. " you sniffles.
#hazbin hotel#alastor#alastor the radio demon#alastor x reader#alastor x reader angst#hazbin hotel angst#angst#unreciprocated love#ˠ . ° . 𝘕𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘢! 𖤐
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I’ll love you in secret
Larissa Weems x fem reader
Summary: it’s been 5 years since you and Larissa broke up on good terms. You return to the school to find that she is now married and all you felt when you were near her was your heart breaking.
Warnings: hurt, angst, break up
Requests open
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How has it already been 5 years since you left Nevermore and 5 years since your relationship ended with Larissa. That was the hardest decision you ever made but it was something that had to be done.
You were going to be travelling around the world for the next 5 years expanding on your studies and the both of you knew that it wasn’t fair to continue a relationship that would be long distant over the course of the 5 years.
So you decided that it would be better to end things and it gave you both freedom if you chose it. However the end of the relationship killed you and you knew deep down that you couldn’t even think about seeing anyone else.
So for the past 5 years you haven’t flirted or slept with anyone because deep down you knew your heart still belonged to Larissa. The two of you did decide that depending on each other's situation when you returned that you could maybe pick up with your relationship.
Part of you remained hopeful but part of you didn’t. It wouldn’t be fair for Larissa to wait for you but part of you hoped that she did.
You were currently on the plane back to Jericho and you couldn’t be more excited. You emailed the school a couple of weeks ago to expect your return. You were promised your job back as soon as you returned which was great as you could get straight back to working.
It also meant you got to see Larissa sooner as well. You were happily chilling on the plane when one of the air hostesses came round with your food. You had just ordered a cheese and ham croissant with a coke.
It wasn’t a lot but it was enough to fill you up. You happily ate your food while listening to Evermore which played through your headphones. When you had finished you opened the blind to your window and just watched as you passed through the clouds.
It was so peaceful but the only thing you could think about was your excitement to see Larissa. After a couple more hours you were finally on your descent down to the ground. It wasn’t long until you felt the wheels of the plane hit the tarmac and you found yourself getting off the plane.
You went straight to collect your luggage before heading through customs and security. Thankfully you got through both with no hassle at all. With yourself now sorted out you headed straight to the taxi rank to go and find an available taxi to take you to Jericho.
It took you about 10 minutes as everyone was doing the same thing as you before you eventually found a free taxi. “How much to Jericho?” You asked the driver.
“$60” they stated. It was a little overpriced but you were tired and just wanted to head home. “Alright I will take that. Let me just put the luggage in the trunk” you said as you placed everything in the back of the car.
With that all sorted you then got into the back seat of the car before the driver drove to the address that you gave him. Thankfully it was only about a 45 minute drive to your apartment in the middle of Jericho and you couldn’t wait to get home and jump into bed.
It wasn’t long before you started to recognise the roads leading into Jericho. You drove past Nevermore School and you couldn’t help but smile at the thought that Larissa was there. You sighed happily before the driver pulled up outside your apartment.
“Here we are Miss,” they said to you. “Thank you” you said to them as you paid them for the journey before grabbing your stuff out of the trunk of the car. You thanked the driver again before they drove off. You headed into your apartment and just couldn’t wait to relax.
You grabbed your keys before letting yourself in. Not much had changed at all and believe it or not you could still smell Larissa in your apartment. You turned the lights on before placing your bags on the floor.
You walked around your apartment familiarising yourself with your home. When you got to your bedroom you realised that Larissa still had some clothes in your wardrobe which she must have forgotten and that’s when you saw the photo on the bedside table.
It was a picture of you and Larissa kissing at the end of the Rave’N one year. You could remember that day like it was yesterday. You picked up the photo before just staring at it and smiling. You then looked at the wardrobe wondering what to do with Larissa’s clothes.
Would she want them back? You hoped that maybe she would want to be back in a relationship and that it would be worth keeping. However part of you also knew that was wishful thinking. So you did what felt right in the moment.
You took her clothes out of the wardrobe before folding them up and placing them in a bag which you would give to her next time you saw her. It hurt you because you still loved her but you didn’t know what her situation was just yet.
You would have to wait a couple weeks when you would see her again at Nevermore. With the clothes now folded away you decided that you would have a shower and head to bed and that was exactly what you did. You were shattered from your trip home and a good night's sleep in your own bed was what you needed.
Over the next couple of weeks you spent your time sorting out your apartment. You unpacked all your clothes from your trip and really sorted out your apartment trying to get rid of everything that reminded you of Larissa, as much as that broke your heart.
You didn’t bin it but you just couldn’t have it on display in your apartment. Once that was all sorted you started getting your lesson plans ready for the new term. Those couple of weeks went by really quickly and your excitement and nerves grew as the days got closer and closer.
Before you knew, it was the first day of term and you just couldn’t wait for the day to start. You got yourself out of bed before taking yourself to the bathroom to get ready for the day. You showered before doing your hair and getting yourself dressed.
You got yourself into a nice floral dress before putting on some clear tights and a nice jacket. You then grabbed your bags before heading to your car. You loaded everything into the back before getting in the car and heading to Nevermore.
You connected your phone and The Very First Night came on so you just jammed away as you continued on your short journey to school. When you arrived you parked your car in one of the staff parking spots before grabbing your belongings and heading inside.
You headed straight to your classroom. As you walked the halls you admired everything in the corridors. It really hadn’t changed at all. As you made your way through the school to your classroom you walked past Larissa’s office.
You stopped briefly to see that her name was still on the door meaning she still worked here. You thought about knocking to have a chat with her but you knew that it would maybe be too much for first thing in the morning. If the two of you were going to catch up then maybe it should be on Larissa’s terms.
With that decision made you continued to make your way to your classroom. When you arrived there were some differences however most of the things had stayed exactly the same.
You placed your stuff on your desk as you sorted out some stuff in the classroom. It wasn’t urgent but part of you just wanted to sort it out now otherwise it was going to bug you. Once that was all sorted all you had to do was wait for your classes to arrive which didn’t take long.
The day went by relatively quickly and part of you was hoping that you would bump into Larissa but that didn’t seem to happen. She was probably busy and that was understandable. Did she even know you were back though? She must know.
As the day went on though there still wasn’t much sign of her and you hadn’t even had an email from her yet. So when the school day finally ended you finished some paperwork before grabbing your stuff and heading off home. However when you passed Larissa’s office once again you stopped.
Before you knew what you were doing you were knocking on the door awaiting a response from the other side of the door. “Come in” you heard her British accent call from the other side. You opened the door and let yourself into the office.
“Ahh y/n! Long time no see. How has the last 5 years been and how has today been?” Larissa asked as she pointed to one of the chairs in front of her telling you to sit down. You placed yourself in one of the chairs as you put your stuff next to you.
“Today has been incredible. It feels so nice being back at Nevermore. I truly have missed this place. As for the last five years it has been amazing. I finally was able to expand on my education which I needed and the time out there was just so fun” she smiled as you looked at her.
It felt like nothing had changed between the two of you. “So is there anything new with your Larissa. I can see you are still principal of Nevermore” you asked her. “Well I did spend the first year and a bit just focusing on the school but I did meet someone” she smiled at you which made your heart sink.
“Ooo Yh. What is their name?” You asked, trying to seem interested. “Her name is Jenni, we actually got married a couple of months ago” she smiled at you as you tried to not let this uncomfortable feeling escape your body.
“Aww that’s so exciting. I’m so happy for your Larissa” you smiled at her. “And is there a lucky lady in your life y/n?” She smiled waiting for you to tell her your answer. “Umm no. I didn’t really have time to date while I was away as I was always travelling. But I’m sure I’ve got plenty of time now” you smiled as your heart broke even more.
Larissa could tell this was a bit of a sore subject considering your past together and that she is now married and you had clearly stayed single on the off chance. “Anyway I’m gonna head home. We need to have a proper catch up” you smiled trying your best to pretend like nothing was wrong.
“Yes we definitely do. Have a good evening y/n. See you tomorrow” she smiled as you stood up and left her office. As soon as the door closed you ran straight to your car as you tried your best not to cry. However as soon as you entered the car all you could feel was tears streaming down your face.
How could you have been so stupid to think after 5 years that she would have stayed single to be with you. It wasn’t fair to make her do that and it was delusional of yourself to think that she would. How were you going to get through work now knowing that things are probably going to be awkward?
So that evening you went home and ate crappy food while watching your favourite tv show. You had to get these emotions out now otherwise it was just going to eat you up inside. Over the next few weeks you had found things were getting a bit better with Larissa. You no longer felt like crying every time you saw her, which was a start.
However when you thought you were at a good point it all seemed to change again. You had decided to go to the Weathervane on a random Saturday morning to grab yourself a coffee and something to eat. You had always seen the cafe but had yet to venture there.
When you arrived you were in your own little world and headed straight to the counter to order your coffee and food. You decided on a caramel latte and a bacon sandwich with a danish pastry on the side. When your food and coffee was ready you grabbed your tray before turning around to find yourself a table.
That’s when your heart sank. There sat Larissa and who you assumed to be her wife by the way they were acting together. You couldn’t deal with this today so you quickly headed to the other side of the cafe to eat and drink in peace hoping that Larissa hadn’t seen you were here.
However as you were wrapping up on your meal you saw that Larissa and her wife were walking over to you. They were definitely walking to you as the exit was the complete opposite way. “Hey y/n” Larissa smiled at you.
“Oh hi Larissa. Wasn’t expecting to see you here. How are you” you smiled at her and then at her wife. “Oh yeah we come here most Saturdays. This is my wife Jenni” she smiled as she introduced her wife to you.
You smiled at Jenni while making a mental note not to come here on a Saturday. “It’s nice to meet you Jenni” you smiled trying not to let your emotions get the better of you. “How do you know Larissa?” She smiled at you. Clearly she was jealous. Did you tell her the truth or what she wanted to hear?
“Oh I work with Larissa. I’ve just come back from studying abroad for the last 5 years but me and Larissa were pretty close before I left” you smiled at her before looking at Larissa. Well it was the truth.
“Well enjoy the rest of your day y/n. I will see you Monday” Larissa said before turning around and leaving. Maybe that was the wrong thing to say. “It was nice meeting you! And see you Monday Larissa” you called back but you were greeted by silence.
After that day you found you and Larissa drifted more and more apart and you had a feeling Jenni was behind that but there wasn’t a lot you could do. The only thing you could do was love Larissa in secret.
#gwendoline christie#gwendolineuniverse#fanfics#larissa weems#larissa x you#larissa weems x teacher#larissa weems x you#larissa weems x y/n#larissa weems x reader#larissa x reader#larissa x y/n#larissa weems angst#I’ll love you in secret#angst#hurt/angst#hurt#break up#married#brienneoftarth1989
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Okay I’m home and chilled out, so I’m just gonna ramble about my thoughts/analysis that I keep having about perceiving Leon Kennedy as a sexual being. This might be long. I also want to reiterate that my word is not law, and everyone has their own hcs and stuff and that’s okay!
I know hard dom content is very popular across the erotica/smut medium as a whole. Rough sex has always been popular and trust me, I’m a fan too. But if I can be controversial for like two seconds, I don’t see Leon as a hard dom personally. Closest thing would be a rough daddy dom, but to me Leon always gave me someone who caters to their partner. He’s loving and affectionate, a little rugged and awkward sure, but nonetheless he cares and wants to give a good experience.
He studies his partner, learns about what makes them tick, what makes them moan, how their body responds to different stimuli. Leon is a perceptive human being, he observes things before fully handling them so he can take the best approach that gives him the best results. I think he’d approach sex the same way if he’s with someone that he cares for.
In a weird way, I also don’t think Leon is a sex god of sorts. He’d have to find the time and ability to actually experiment with different dynamics and kinks to figure out what he likes too. It’ll all be a learning process for him, but to me Leon is someone that prioritizes his partner’s pleasure above his own because that’s what gets him off. If you feel good, he feels good. He gets off on getting you off type of deal, that’s who he is.
I also think Leon’s sexual dynamics depend on where he is in his life. When he’s younger, he’s naive, grasping on to whatever makes sense so he’d be more inclined to letting someone else lead and show him things he wouldn’t know at first (hence why a lot of ppl write RE2 Leon as a sub). As he gets older, gets more experience here and there, he’d try building more of his own confidence and autonomy and realize he has the ability to take control. Consider RE4/ID/RE6, he’s smarter, more aged, more mature (it’s the trauma), so he’d be more able to take charge like others paint him out to be but I don’t think he’d be inherently “aggressive”, far from it really. He’s serious about communication and being vocal, because he has to hear whether or not he’s doing the right thing or he needs to tweak something for a better experience. He’s not selfish he’s a sweetheart, that I can stand ten toes on.
The period of time in Vendetta to me is where I would see the rough sex come out because he’ll be using it as a means of self harm. He wouldn’t want to hurt another person, but more so he doesn’t care about himself, so his actions will be considered “reckless” and he won’t realize the consequences of what he does until after it happens. He’s suicidal, depressed, an alcoholic, and exhausted with life…so whatever he does in the bedroom would reflect that. Leon would probably want someone to fuck him instead of the other way around, but what he says he wants vs what he really wants deep down would be considered two things. He says he wants the rough stuff and he’s detached when in reality he wants to be comforted and wants someone to treat him like a human being, not something to be discarded. He just wouldn’t vocalize that because he doesn’t think his wants or needs matter. You’d have to read him and dictate for yourself because he’s too ashamed of saying it out loud. (I will say Vendetta Leon is one of my favorite variations of him and he deserves all the love and safety his other versions get! He’s just an angst magnet lmao).
Now in DI and beyond, he has healthier relationship with things, probably more aware of his alcohol consumption and age, and possibly going to therapy. In a way, I think Leon at this age would be far more inclined to revert back to the way he was at 21, little childish, letting someone else lead because he finds safety in that. Many people believe submission assumes someone loses their power entirely, but the way I perceive it, it’s you being able to trust someone else to make decisions for you in your best interest.
So he would be very switchy as he gets he’s older, liking being submissive because that allows him to turn his brain off and let someone else take charge for him. He won’t have to make the choices for once, and either way so long as his partner feels good, he feels good.
As a dynamic character, this is just how I perceive Leon, and to me he’s more of a pleasure dom, and probably likes being dominated but it’ll take him a while to be comfortable in doing that after everything. Hence, why I want to write for sub Leon more, because I think he deserves to just feel safe in giving up control he never really had in his life.
#ovaryacted thoughts#leon kennedy#leon scott kennedy#yeah sub Leon supremacy#this is my brand lmao#and I’m gonna do it#watch me
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Let Me Go
Joel Miller x GN! Reader
Synopsis: Six reasons you wanted Joel Miller and one reason he wouldn't have you.
Genre: Angst, with some fluff for backstory purposes
Warnings: age gap, heart break, cuddling, mentions of fighting
Gif credits to owners!
When you had met Joel, he was this tough guy with a rough exterior. But as time went on there was something warmer about him. Something almost comforting.
This comfort soon turned into reliance and then dependence and sure enough you were in love with the older man. It wasn't just one thing that had led to the fall, actually it was six. You had counted them all, it was exact. Just like his exactly one reason to not have you. The one reason he broke your heart and ignored what he truly felt.
One: Little Gestures
The two of you had met in winter, the snow was falling lightly onto the streets of the Boston QZ. You were freezing, still not used to the chill of the winter air. Not to mention your jacket was thin.
You had met Tess a few times, traded a few things. But you had yet to meet her "guy". This "guy" was Joel, someone she had formed some sort of attachment to. This time Tess had brought Joel along.
He didn't say much, didn't really even make eye contact with you. Instead he sat there, scanning the surroundings.
You shivered slightly as a gust of wind passed the three of you. Not thinking much of it, you continued your conversation. Out of the corner of your eye you noticed something grab Joel's attention as he sauntered off to investigate it.
When he returned, he passed closer to you dropping the jacket that was once donned his shoulders onto your own. Your eyebrows furrowed at the gesture and when you went to question him, he had once again disappeared somewhere. So instead, you gladly accepted the thicker material and its collection of body heat.
You also accepted the flutter in your heart the gesture had given you.
Two: Eyes
Number two was a pair of things: his eyes.
The brown orbs held so much pain, yet every time they passed over5 you there was a softness behind them. It was like he could read everything your mind was trying to tell him. Sometimes they were even trying to scream out to him.
You never needed to bring up the hard stuff to Joel, he just knew. He knew you had pain just like he did. He knew not to dwell on those facts. They were the past and although he didn't see his future he knew yours was as bright as your eyes.
Three: Protector
Tess told you Joel was a protector. He'd do anything for the people he cared about. Even more for those he loved.
"This is why he's so good to have around." She told you. You had always thought there was something between her and Joel. That was until she told you otherwise.
One night you had gotten yourself into a little bit of danger. Some guys were trying to rough you up for some ration cards and luckily Joel happened by the situation. He fought off the men and walked you home.
You were now safely inside your apartment and about to close the door, when Joel held it open with his hand. He looked like something was on his mind.
Neither of you said anything, just held eye contact. Until he finally sighed and let go of your door, leaving.
A few days later you had a meeting with Tess. She brought up the events of that night, apparently Joel had told her. She laughed as she recounted the way he told it.
"I don't know what spell you casted on him but he's entranced with you."
Four: Listener
Joel wasn't much a talked, but he would always listen. You had always had an inquisitive mind. When the world was normal it used to bother your parents and friends, even your teachers sometimes.
But all your questions never seemed to bother Joel. He would sit and listen to them all, even when he didn't have the answers. Even when there was no answers to be given!
And in the rare times he did know a thing or two he would respond, gaining a huge smile from you.
These were the times his heart fluttered.
Five: Cuddles
I know what you're thinking! Joel Miller, a cuddler? You didn't believe it either. But after one particularly long night, you had both fallen asleep on his couch.
There was still a bit of a chill in the air, so naturally your body had gravitated closer to his in search of some warmth.
You were never sure whether it was a conscious decision or not but by the time you woke up the two of you were intertwined together. And this became a habit of yours.
Even when it was no longer cold out, the two of you would cling to each other.
Six: Pretending
After a few months of hanging more with Joel and Tess, they invited you to meet Bill and Frank. It was nice to get out of the QZ and have a normal meal like the whole world wasn't a complete shit show.
At one point you had found yourself inside with only Frank. You had insisted on helping to wash the dishes. While scrubbing a plate, you had caught a glimpse of Joel through the window. Craning to get a better look, you smiled to yourself. All of a sudden Frank laughed, causing you to look over at him.
"What?" You questioned.
"You two are so in love with each other and neither of you see it. It's just funny."
Your eyebrows furrowed and before you could contest, Joel walked into the kitchen.
"Why don't you two go and chat with Bill and Tess? I'll finish this up." He suggested, holding eye contact with you.
Joel wouldn't take no for an answer and ushered the two of you outside. Only to stop you before you made it out the door. He bent down and tied your shoe lace, you hadn't even noticed it had come undone.
Across the room you heard a throat clear and your eyes met Frank's. He gave you a knowing look, mouthing a "see".
One: Heart
The very foundation of a human is their heart. If it stops beating, you no longer have a living being. Only a body.
Joel told you once that his heart had stopped beating a long time ago. And when he was about to leave he told you again.
"I haven't had a heart in years. I haven't felt anything in years. Only pain. Only desperation. But I met you and I had felt my heart beating again. It skipped a beat or two a few times." He let out a small laugh before continuing.
"But I'm not what you deserve. I'm not what you need. I've lived a life and yours is barely starting. You have a beating heart, mine is more like Frankenstein, stitched together."
You couldn't help but to correct him, "Frankenstein was the scientist."
He took a deep breath in, "Then I'm the monster and you're Frankenstein, you stitched me back together."
"But I don't understand, if I've done all this for you, why are you leaving?"
"I can't watch your heart stop beating because of me!" He almost shouted at you.
"You leave and it will stop!" Okay, you were shouting. Grabbing his shirt, pleading him to make eye contact with you.
"I need you to let go. Let me go, Y/N." Finally his eyes met your own and you knew that the man you had fallen in love with was no longer yours.
You had six definitive reasons why you loved Joel Miller, but he had only needed one to leave.
#pedro pascal#fanfiction#joel miller#the last of us#fanfic#pedro pascal fanfiction#joel miller angst#joel miller fluff#joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fanfic#joel miller fic#joel miller x gn reader#pedro pascal x reader
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⤷✿.｡Since you voted yes to commissions, so here we are. I was a little unsure about the price, so I researched and tried to make it as fair as possible. I hope you agree with this! ❤️
Also, this is completely optional! If you don't want to, you don't have to request a commission! All the other requests works the same way!!
⤷♡.+ n a v i g a t i o n.
What I would write
I write for any gender, both character and Reader/OC, be it female, male, neutral transsexual. Any.
Yandere!Character x Reader, Yandere!Reader x Yandere!Character, Yandere!OC x Reader and Yandere!OC X OC.
Dark!Au, Gore, Disorders, Smut/NSFW, explicit language, soft!yandere, alternative AU, Horror, Age gap (depends on how much).
Romantic, platonic and general Yanderes, as well as more specific themes; example: yandere x depressive!reader.
Stockholm syndrome.
Pregnancy, childbirth and death in childbirth.
Non-Con, Dub-Con, BDSM.
Fluff; non-yandere.
Monsterfucking, specific kinks.
Angst.
What I DON'T write
Any kind of NSFW content with children, anything with children will just be platonic.
I don't write NSFW with characters that have a childish appearance or personality, just platonic.
I don't usually write ships because I consider it something personal, but I can do it if someone wants to.
Age play, scap.
Minor x Adult (only platonic).
Prices (in $ and R$)
Headcanons
2,00 $/R$ 2,00 for 500 words;
6,00 $/R$ 6,00 for 1000 words;
12,00 $/R$ 12,00 for 2000 words;
NSFW content adds an additional charge of $3,00/R$3,00.
Imagines, Scenarios, Reactions, Oneshots, Prompts
3,00 $/R$ 4,00 for 500 words;
10,00 $/R$ 13,00 for 1000 words;
18,00 $/R$ 18,00 for 2000 words;
20,00 $/R$ 20,00 for 3000 words.
NSFW content adds an additional charge of $5,00/R$6,00.
My list of current fandoms, but I can always add more:
Anime
Attack on Titan, Amensia, Death Note, Demon Slayer, Diabolik Lovers, Fruits Basket, Haikyuu!!, Hakuoki, Hunter x Hunter, Jujutsu Kaisen, Kamigami no Asobi, Naruto, Mirai Nikki, One Piece, Blood of Zeus.
Books
Percy Jackson, Harry Potter, A Song of Ice and Fire, Pegasus and The Flame of Olympus (series), IT., A Court of Thorns and Roses (ACOTAR), The Bridgertons, Twilight, The Lord of the Rings, The Cruel Prince: The Folk of the Air, The Bridgertons, Twilight.
Games
Genshin Impact, Detroit Become Human, Mystic Messenger, Time Princess Dress Up (TP: characters), Yandere Simulator, My Candy Love (Amour Sucré), Arkyos Angel, A Plague Tale.
K-Pop
BTS, BLACKPINK, GOT7, EXO, BIGBANG, TWICE, AESPA, Stray Kids, ITZY, Hyuna and Dawn, Red Velvet, NCT, Monsta X, Taemin, Dreamcatcher, LE SSERAFIM, (G)I-DLE.
Series/TV Show
Game of Thrones, House of the Dragon, The Originals, The Vampire Diaries, Teen Wolf, Supernatural, Outer Banks, Friends, Brooklyn Nine-Nine, Euphoria, Reign, Bridgerton, The Flash, Supergirl, Outlander, American Horror Story, Wednesday, Riverdale, Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, The Sandman, Lucifer, Winx Club, Ragnarok, The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power, Invisible City (Cidade Invisível), Shadow and Bone, Adventure Time, The Witcher, Rebelde MX (RBD), Heartstopper.
Movies
Disney Universe, Marvel Universe, DC Universe, Maze Runner, Halloween, Friday the 13th, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, A Nightmare on Elm Street, Transformers, How to Train Your Dragon, Miraculous, Ever After High, Monster High, Barbie Universe, Christmas Movies, Maze Runner, Avatar, Twilight, Star Wars.
K-Dramas
My Demon, Bussiness Proposal, Doom At Your Service, Hometown Cha-Cha-Cha, Crash Landing on You, My Name, Mr Queen, King the Land.
Mythology
Greek, Egyptian, Norse Mythology and Brazilian Folklore.
Historical Characters
Alexander the Great, Cleopatra, Caesar Augustus, Julius Caesar and etc...
Additional Information
I accept payment via PayPal and Pic Pay only (PayPal = Ko-Fi)
Payment must be made before I start and I will always send you updates if you ask me.
I write in English and Portuguese.
I have a deadline of 5 to 10 days to complete your commission, however, if something unforeseen happens and it ends up being delayed, I will inform you.
If I write more than what was asked, obviously there will be no additions.
If you are interested, DM me with details and feel free to ask me anything.
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⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒
Chapter 1: Animal Farm
Pairing: Stray Kids x 9th member!OFC
Warnings:
I'll say this only once, this is the only warning you'll get. Future chapters will contain lot of smut (eventually) angst and fluff. Heavy topics will be discussed (idol life y'know) but I don't wanna spoil it. This story isn't for sensitive person? I don't know how to put it. Just don't read if you think you'll feel uncomfortable!
This is a x OC but will be tagged as a x Reader. I find it difficult to write properly about a character while worrying about making it inclusive and fitting my story. I don't really care about her name or physical apparence though so if you have any suggestion I'm up for it.
No pressure chill under the trees. Updates will not be regular as this story is solely for my entertainment and whenever I feel like writing it. Means that I'll keep on posting even if I don't have any feedbacks but also means that chapter lengths will vary to very short to more words. You can have many chapters the same day, depends on my life, but I don't really like short chapter so ill do my best.
"I am not being a pain in the ass."
"Yes you are."
"You kinda are."
Minho sent a chilling glance to the boy who was curled up next to him on the living room's couch. It was enough for Jisung to shudder. But the topic was serious, he wasn't about to change his opinion just because his hyung was giving him that look.
"No seriously, you really are."
"Okay."
Minho smiled and kept on doing what he was doing on his phone, ignoring everyone's stare - Jisung's stare particularly. The younger boy was looking intently at him, he was waiting for something, something he was sure his hyung would do. And he did. Like three minutes after. He blew through his nose, still looking at his screen.
"Ah! I knew it!"
"I really don't understand what's the problem. Has she done anything to upset you? We can talk it out like adults."
The couple on the couch looked up from each other and Minho stared at Chan intently yet silently. The leader couldn't really tell what was on the dancer's mind, and it was upsetting him to no extent. Any other day he would have brushed it off as Minho being Minho. The latter was a great friend, he almost considered him his brother, despite not knowing on the tip of his fingers the boy's small quirks and habits. It was a Jisung thing. But now, more than never, he wished he could know him a bit more, he wished for the other boy to let him in.
"I don't want to talk it out with you."
"Minho..."
Jisung's hush whispers was not a warning, yet, it felt like one. He was not scolding his Hyung, he was just trying to appease the tension. Chan's face was contorted in what people would consider anger, but Jisung knew better. He was frustrated.
"This is about the whole group, not just me. I didn’t come to you as a friend, Minho, I'm here as a leader."
And it might have not been the right thing to say. Because Minho frowned, and retreated into silence.
"What a mess." was Jisung's thoughts, his eyes drifting toward his leader’s, whose head was turned toward a silhouette standing in the hallway.
"No. You can't do this to us."
"You don't have a choice."
"We do! It's my group, our group, we've worked so hard to reach our goals and create the music that will fit us!"
Chan did not know what was more upsetting at the moment; the fact that he was having this conversation while he was sleep deprived - he would blame himself for that latter, saying that it was the reason he couldn't plead their case better - or the fact that he was even having this conversation.
"They've let you do your things, you know that Chan."
"No, they gave up on us, so we had to fight our way to the top! That's what happened."
The word 'top' was a far too big word for Chan, but one he had to use nonetheless to prove his case. They were enough. They were just fine.
"They..." his manager sighed and pinched his nose. The situation was getting out of hands and even he could not do a thing about it. But at the the end of the day, his job was on the line, and he had a family to feed. "They threatened to disband the group if you don't agree to the term."
"Just fine by then! We'll go elsewhere and keep on doing music together."
"You don't understand Chan, think it through! This is not a GOT7 type of situation, they'll take Stray Kids' name, your music, your brand and all that you've accomplished by yourself, and if you do try to prosecute them you'll lose. I've read the contracts, everyone's contract. You can't refuse."
"I can't - " Chan laughed and sat on his chair, running his hands on his face. "This is disgusting and despicable."
"I know, Chan, I'm sorry."
"They just want to make publicity, it'll bury us."
"I know..."
It was a one in a life time opportunity, the young woman really and truly understood that. She was considered too old to even sit in that room, she was told countless times. Yet, it did not change the fact that she was sitting in that room. The room where all important decisions were made.
She felt uncomfortable, growing uneasy, fighting the urge to scratch her skin off - one bad old habit. Her choices, her decisions; all of those were flashing in her mind like a broken tape, image and pictures of the times she spent practicing to be here - not that much, if you ask her.
Those people stare - those important people's stare was making her fidget in her sit, avoid eye contact. Were they testing her? Waiting for a particular reaction, the one which could get her out of here in a matter of seconds? The room was feeling too warm, she will sweat buckets if she doesn't go out. Right now.
"There you go. Miss?"
They did not even knew her name. It was a bit disappointing, but then again, she was just another someone wandering between those halls, wasn't she?
"Athéna."
"A- Axina..?"
"More like, Ah-thé-nah." she corrected their pronunciation with a soft voice, continuing, "You can google it."
But their glare was enough for her to shut her mouth and look at the ceiling. It was a fool idea to correct them, they were older, knew much more things than her. It was a little unnerving, this whole elder situation was a lot to get accustomed to in South Korea.
"Axina. Have you read the terms and condition of the contract?"
"I have."
"Any reclamation?"
She wanted to laugh at their face, but she couldn't. She did not had it in her to do that. So she nodded, pretending to be genuinely interested by their answer, even if she quite knew what they would say.
"Regarding the whole part of you managing my...image. I'd like to know if it concerns my hair too?"
"Yes, obviously. And your weight too."
Freezing cold in her bones. Was it because the window was opened? Or was it their stares? It was chilling nonetheless. It was sending her back into a period of her life where she had looked at her reflection days and nights to get a glimpse of her ribs and be satisfied with the view.
"Oh."
"You'll have to work on your Korean too, your pronunciation isn't that good."
"What are you?" another one asked, shifting through the page of the contract she had signed.
What she was. Not who. Not her nationality. But what.
"I'm French, mister."
"Great, it'll help with publicity oversea. Are you fluent in English?"
Why was she having this discussion with them?Wasn't she supposed to talk to the manager and the team helping Stray Kids? Why was she sitting in front of JYP's shareholder.
"I'm almost fluent. I've learned while traveling."
"What a shame. If she was prettier we could have scored partnerships with French luxury brands such as Dior or Channel."
"She'll be perfect for the role that will be given to her."
"I guess so."
"We're done with you."
Was it an animal farm? She never felt that disturbed by a conversation in her whole life. She shuddered, getting up from her sit as she grabbed the hem of her sweatshirt to pull on the lose strands. She couldn't help herself but rock back and forth on her feet - another bad habit of her that some even called weird.
"And stop doing that it's weird."
Chapter 2
#stray kids fanfic#stray kids x reader#stray kids smut#stray kids fluff#poly!stray kids#stray kids angst#swan dive and she met the stars#idk how to tag this
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Just For A Moment - Part 6
I am feeling emotional, so what better way to channel it than angsty angst </3
I thought I'd do part 6 with a bit of insight on Hailey's emotions, and give a bit more context of that night.
TW: (slight) dub-con? (Depends how you would read the scenario), angst, mentions of cheating
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Masterlist
Jay had caught Hailey's eye from the first moment she had seen him. Her eyes followed his every move and traced over every freckle. So when she was able to build a tentative friendship with the man, she had reluctantly allowed hope to build in the pit of her heart praying something would happen.
But it wouldn't. Or at least, it couldn't.
Not when his heart was already held in the hands of another.
Hailey's heart beat for Jay, but his heart belonged to another, and his heart sang for the same girl Hailey found herself growing envious towards as the day passed.
Aurora looked nothing like her - dark hair, free-flowing curls, tanned skin, a bright smile, and glowing eyes. Aurora was everything she wasn't, everything she couldn't be, and that's why Hailey wasn't surprised to learn that Aurora had gotten to him before she ever had the chance.
Still, she told herself it was platonic - the friendship she shared with Jay. An innocent friendship she hid her longing behind, accepting every friendly pat or cheery grin with a perfectly placed mask of contentment.
She would take what he would give.
She had taken what he gave. She had taken, and taken, and taken. Until she could no longer do it.
Maybe it was because she had one too many drinks, or because the last case had hit her in a vulnerable place she had long forgotten about - or maybe she was just cruel and selfish, and had to have whatever it was she wanted.
Hailey had never been selfish, never had the chance to be. So what would be the harm if she was selfish just this once.
That was what she had told herself when he trudged towards Jay's apartment that night. Feigning panic and using the heartache she had felt for so many months - seeing Jay in the arms of another woman - as a mask to convince him. To convince him she needed him. She needs him.
She had cried in his arms, she asked him to hold her - begged. And he had. He was a good friend.
But she didn't want that, she wanted more.
When she risked a glance at him, his eyes glassy and unfocused despite his best attempts to do so, she took her chance. A light kiss, her lips barely brushing against his own as she held her breath.
She pulled back, surveying his expression and waiting.
Waiting.
Jay sat frozen, shoulders rigid as his brows furrowed in confusion. But he hadn't said to stop.
She kissed him again, harder. She poured every ounce of longing, every ache, every envious chill, every inch of passion and love her body held and fed it into him, hoping he would accept her.
He would mumble against her lips, whispers filled with confusion and desperation melded with pleads of a woman's name that was not her own.
"It's me, Jay. I'm here, your Hailey's here."
The words seemed to have sobered him up, looking up at her as though he was seeing someone completely new. Jay tried to blink through the confusion, but the peppered kisses and light brushes felt good against his burning skin, the coos of praises and promises echoed through his clouded mind.
He wants this. He does, right?
He wants this, she said he does.
So he gave in - gave in so easily that he still lives with the shame of doing so. He lives with the guilt of giving in without a second glance, of not trying to stop, of not trying to move away, of not trying.
Hailey could see it on his face every day afterwards - the way he would flinch at her every touch, the way he would lean away from her when he thought she wouldn't notice, how he replied to her texts slower until he stopped completely.
She had told him it was a mistake, that it would stay between them, and they would move on and be friends.
Jay had accepted, but he knew there was a part of him broken by the night he betrayed Aurora. But the fear of her finding out was far worse than having to stay friends with Hailey, hoping she never confessed to their guilty actions.
Hailey had spoken her words, knowing she didn't believe a single one - she hoped, with every day that passed, Jay would come to her and need her. Ask for her. Beg for her.
That day never came, and when Aurora came back to Chicago Hailey knew it never would.
Perhaps that was why she couldn't find it in herself to be angry as she watched the scene unfold in front of her.
Hailey had been to Jay's apartment every night after Aurora had returned, knocking and calling out to him. When she was inevitably ignored, she would ring and call him, pleading with him to see sense and come back to work, or to at least talk to her.
Three days had gone by, and the team was almost ready to execute the undercover operation with Aurora, when she would assume her new identity later tonight.
And it was on this night that Jay had returned.
***
Aurora was in the locker room with Kim, someone who used to be close friends with Hailey but had distanced herself and become quieter after the Aurora had left.
Hailey knew she had destroyed something precious in the group, had forced them to lose another team mate - another friend, another part of their family.
But why was she not enough?
She was snapped out of her reverie by the sound of ascending footsteps, slow and heavy thuds that had become such a familiar sound she turned her head towards the stairs instinctively.
There he stood, a man broken by the consequences of his own actions, eyes tired and face blank as his eyes scanned over the room. His gaze was fleeting as it crossed her figure that was hunched over the desk - paperwork laid astray in a frantic manner.
She felt a stab of disappointment at the action.
Even when she was there, right in front of him, right under his nose. Jay didn't see her. He wouldn't. Because he didn't want to.
But why not? Why was she not enough for him?
Voight stepped out of his office before she could say a word, before she could pour out all the words running through her mind in tumultuous waves, disregarding any shame or fear.
"Jay," his voice, though gravelly, was dipped in a soothing tinge of relief, "it's good to have you back"
Still, they pasted on a smile, hiding the strain in their eyes as they imagined the possible scenarios that could unfold. They made their way towards Jay, exchanging supportive hugs and firm pats on the shoulder - they would be there for him, in whichever way he let them. In any way they could.
His words finally prompted Adam and Kevin to turn his way, shock tugging at their features as they regarded him with wide eyes - knowing the girl he was pining over was not even a door away from him.
"Welcome back, man. Wasn't the same without you."
Kevin's statement was true, but the words only brought a tense smile on Jay's face - the office wasn't the same without her.
And she only left because of him.
His mouth opened, ready to spew words of appeasement or acknowledgement. Hailey wasn't sure, but she watched with intense eyes as she, for once, sat back and didn't approach the man she was head over heels in love with.
There was a crack of a word - the starting of a, no doubt, very short sentence. And Hailey found herself sweltering in frustration and anxiety when it was cut off by the sound of heels lightly tapping against the floor.
Aurora.
Hailey sat up straighter, eyes flickering between Aurora's oblivious form as she approached a wound-up Jay. Kim was trailing behind her, a nervous smile on her face as she tried to keep up their tentative conversation.
But it didn't matter because when Aurora stepped out into the office, she had all but stopped mid-sentence herself. A look of bafflement spread across her face, and a similar expression began pulling across Jay's, except his was tainted my rivulets of regret and guilt.
Jay stepped back as though her presence was a physical hit against him, and Aurora's face shuttered as she drew in a sharp breath.
It was like they were trapped in their own bubble, oblivious to all those around them as they stared at each other for the first time in months.
Hailey could admit, Aurora looked good. Great even.
Always beautiful, ever graceful, and a heart full of passion that she carried everywhere she went.
Unlike Jay, Aurora didn't carry her sadness out in the open for all to see. It was hidden in a part so deep and dark, she hoped it would never escape.
But Jay, he couldn't think of anything worse than the night Aurora had left him crying and broken. So he wore his agony out for all to see, a show of his remorse and a sign of his undying devotion to do what he must to make things right.
Seconds pass, or perhaps it was minutes.
It was Jay who broke first, a revelation that had Hailey look down at her desk, feigning signatures as her eyes burned and her cheeks became heated with embarassment and fury.
Jay couldn't help it, seeing her standing there. She looked so real. So true. As though, finally, she was more than an alcohol-induced dream, a hallucination, an echo just out of grasp.
Her hair was let out, flowing down her back in soft curls as she wore a long black gown with a slit at each leg. The gown cinched at her waist, and the neck was low and deep. Around her neck sat a gold necklace, and a feeling of deja vu washed over Jay at the sight of it.
She looked beautiful, like she deserved to have her every step treasured. She deserved devotion and adoration, love and kindness, loyalty and undying passion.
Longing began to fester in the base of his throat, a feeling so familiar that he swallowed through it with perfect ease.
"Aurora."
Jay hadn't called her that in so long, always Rory. Just Rory.
But hearing her name on his lips, after so long. It broke the cage she had locked that frail and trampled part of her soul into, it tugged at her heart and ripped at her throat.
Her eyes welled with tears as she looked at the man in front of her.
He wore his sadness with open arms.
Jay had lost weight - though still muscular and fit, he was not the same man she had left all those months ago. His eyes were weighed down by purple bags, the whites of his eyes tainted by the red of no sleep, a permanent scruff etched across his face, and clothes that were too rumpled for her to believe he had even changed before he came in today.
Surprisingly, Jay was just as broken as she was. Only Jay couldn't hide it.
There was a part of her that was furious at that - Jay had hurt her, and yet here he was breaking into tears as though he deserved her sympathy.
On the other hand, there was a part of her, so loving and so knowing, that simmered with relief at the sight of his anguish.
Jay missed her, he needed her. He said she was enough, perhaps he really did mean it.
Or perhaps his words were fuelled by the heavy load of a guilty man.
The thought was enough to snap her out from the longing, which scratched at her soul - begging and pleading to give in. Instead, she blinked, a passive look painted across her face. A flawless mask finished with a rigid smile. She nodded at Jay, forcing her hands not to tremble at the crestfallen look on his face.
Jay took a step forward, as though he was trying to prove to her he existed. As though he took her silence as a sign she hadn't seen him, and he wanted her to.
Needed her to.
But Aurora stepped back with a flinch, eyes flickering with pooling tears as she forced back her pain and tried to remain formal. She reached into her training, pulling at every strand and every inch of stoicism she could find within her body to present an unfazed facade as she turned towards Voight.
"I'm ready."
"Ready? Ready for what?"
Jay's voice was laced with incredulity, his head spinning at the fact that Aurora was here. She was here right in front of him.
But just like those few weeks so many months ago, she had barely acknowledged him.
Jay wanted to feel seen, but the only person who had ever made him feel so was now ignoring him.
Hailey was like a friend to him. He found camraderie in her presence, recognition in her touch. They faced similar struggles, similar lives. It was like looking into a reflection of some sort, seeing himself just as determined and strong on the other side.
But what life could a person live with their own reflection.
Such a life would be lonely and draining, boring and idle.
Aurora was the woman who had captured his heart, stolen his breath, and tied herself with his soul. She was a breath of fresh air, a source of comfort and warmth. She was a listening ear and loving companion. She balanced him out, smoothed out his edges, and evened out his temper.
He found mutual respect and care in his friendship to Hailey, but he found that and so much more in Aurora. In Aurora, he found the woman who gave him purpose - a brightly lit candle, a roaring flame, and a gentle guide out of the darkness that clouded his mind, the horrors that painted his past.
And here she was, standing in front of him. A dream just out of reach.
Was she back in Chicago permanently? Had she rejoined Intelligence? Was she here because of him? Or was it because of the guy at the bar?
The thoughts raced across his mind so fast Jay's eyes began to flicker over every object within his vicinity as he tried to sort through them.
Aurora is back.
She's back.
Seeing Jay's eyes shine with reverence, they were glossy in the light with unshed tears. Even in his state of confusion, he couldn't hide his adoration and couldn't hide his devotion.
Hailey felt her throat burn with nausea - how could she have been so blind.
#jay halstead x you#jay halstead x oc#jay halstead x reader#jay halstead angst#jay halstead#chicago med#chicago one#chicago#chicago fire#chicago pd#hailey upton#jay halstead x hailey upton#hank voight#kim burgess#kevin atwater
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