#every single question is making me want to go less but i also desperately want to hang out with people my age and talk to people
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Stray Kids reaction to different sub types
Now, the sub types I chose for each member are all different, but I hope you'll enjoy none the less.
Smut warning as always.
Chris:
Puppy Subs
Non Sexually: I think Chris is a great fit for puppy subs! Eager for affection, ready to please.
Chris would be a little confused at first, not really sure how to interact with you until he realises he can, in fact, just treat you like a dog.
He'd be so happy coming home to you, petting your hair, and asking if you've been good today. He almost always bring you home some kind of snack or treat because he always sees things that make him think of you.
He would low-key love the way you cling to him in public and your annoyed grumbles when you started getting sleepy or wanted more attention. CHAN PUPPY SUB LOVER he just thinks they're so cute.
Sexually: he loves the kind of sex that he doesn't have to think for, and a needy puppy in heat caters to that perfectly. Not to mention the breeding kink!
There's nothing that makes him cum quite as hard as rambling to his puppy about how he's gonna breed them as a reward for taking him so well and hearing you whine out your desperate pleas in response.
"Ohhhh my puppy. You want a bone, huh? C'mere."
Minho
Innocent Sub
Non Sexually: Minho would LOVE an innocent and obedient sub. One that never really questions what he's doing because they trust him that much. There's nothing better than being trusted so completely that he can manouver you wherever he wants and give you any task knowing you'll complete it without complaint.
He's on it from the go, testing out your submission by giving you the most random tasks at all times of the day.
Min likes these types even more because he can do anything he wants and people won't think twice because you appear to be so sweet. They don't question when he slots his thigh between yours and spreads your legs with his or when he pulls you down onto his lap out of nowhere, and that thrills him.
Sexually: He loves rewarding you. He doesn't need to have a real reason because he can just make one up. Half the time you can't understand why brushing your teeth or folding your laundry has earned you the opportunity to be spread out on his bed so he can devour you like he was made for it, but you won't complain.
He'll tease you endlessly, too. A good mix of feathery touches that tickle your skin and firm groping that both grounds you and knocks all thought from your brain. Constantly making you tell him that you like what he's doing, because it sounds songood in your slightly confused, dazed voice.
"Uh uh, use your words. Tell me how good I make you feel and then you can cum."
Changbin:
'Alpha' Sub
Non Sexually: This isn't controversial in any way, but Binnie wouldn't love a sub who also commands respect around others. He let's you wear the pants in public, no questions asked because it makes him proud to see how people are slightly scared of you because of your take no shit attitude.
If anyone guessed, they might even think he was the sub in your relationship with the way you boss him around, but he knows the second he asks you to do something you'll be jumping to make it happen. You're actually very obedient and well trained.
Sexually: He can't help but get turned on when you're being all commanding and strong. It's the contrast that does it for him, and he'll have you kneeling in front of him as soon as you're alone, massinging your scalp with a firm grip onnyour hair as you nuzzle at his thigh, dreamy sighs blessing his ears.
You're the kinda sub that he can fuck dumb really easily and he uses that to his advantage. Every. Single. Time. He's God great control so he won't cum until he's make you cum around his cock a few times, and even then he's going multiple rounds. He knows you'll take it every time.
"There's my baby. I know you can take the whole thing. You don't need to think about it, ok?"
Hyunjin:
Princess Sub
Non Sexually: Hyune loves a princess because he loves to dress you up and show you off, but not in the same way one would with a bimbo. Nom Hyunjin likes having the most beautiful, untouchable person in the room wrapped around his fingers.
He would appreciate the way a Princess Sub carries themselves. They know their worth, and they don't settle, so he gets to revel in the fact that you chose him and continue to choose him every day. You've deemed him worthy of your submission, and that's everything to him.
Sexually: His favourite thing is to fuck his Princess fully clothed. Both of you. The neediness of it, the dishevelled appearance you come out with. Something about ruining you really gets him going and once he starts, he can't stop.
He gets off on knowing that you're seen as someone that nobody could live up to, yet you're doing filthy depraved things for the sole purpose of his pleasure, and of course returning the favour tenfold.
"Look at you. God, you're a masterpiece, you know that?"
Han:
Slutty Subs
Non Sexually: he loves the clinginess. The way you always want to be close to him, on him.not only is the physical pressure of your body in his something he finds incredibly soothing and grounding, but he always thrives when he feels wanted and craved in the way you show.
It's hard for him not to blush and feel a little awkward when you insist on longer kisses and sitting on his lap despite the free seat next to him, but he really does adore it. Even when your hands start wandering a little too much.
Sexually: The NEEDINESS. God, having you begging for him any time you're alone drives him wild. He's capable of being calm. Don't get me wrong. But when you rile him up, all bets are off and he's taking you over the nearest surface.
Also, lots of CASUAL sex. Cockwarming during movies, fingering you when he's scrolling through his phone, your warm mouth wrapped around his cock when he's working. It's a strange sort of affection thing between you and the intimacy is the most important part of sex for Sungie, so he kind of loves that it's more about you showing how much you love and need him then just you hunting for an orgasm.
"Ah, fine! You can put it in your mouth, but no moving until I say so."
Felix:
Experienced Subs
Non Sexually: Felix and experienced subs are a matched made in heaven. He's curious about so many things and the fact that you're able to teach him how to do them means you get to turn him into your perfect Dominant, which is really all he's aiming for.
Felix is thrilled at how easily you'll bring up a new kink or a new toy and how quickly he's able to pick up from you, but even more than that, he's thrilled that you'd even bother to guide him.
He takes a special interest to after care if we're being frank. He loves to succeed at pushing you into a place of bliss and then soak up how song and pliant you are, snuggling you into his chest and fawning over you.
Sexually: The way you're able to figure out what he needs and give it to him will never fail to have him fucking you into the mattress. After a while of experimenting and becoming more comfortable with his own dominance he'd find himself craving it and he doesn't really know how to deal with that, so you just sink to your knees beside him when he's playing games and let him run his fingers through your hair and it sends a simultaneous rush of pride and heat straight to his cock.
He likes that you're not afraid to be vocal about what you want and need. He takes note of everything you like and everything that makes you moan a little louder and uses it against you until he's mastered to art of switching you into sub space with very little effort.
"You need me to take care of you, huh? Come on, I know you do. Let me make you feel good."
Seungmin:
Soft Brat Sub
Non Sexually: Hear me out, okay. I think Minnie would adore the playful side of a soft Brat. He loves that you give his attitude right back to him and toe the line of too far without ever crossing it. You're never disrespectful of the authority you chose to give him, but you're ready to call him out when he's wrong and he likes that.
He gets really giggly and happy when you tease him back, always flirting with him and reminding him of the effect he has on you. He almost expects it, and he'll be sad if you suddenly stop.
Sexually: Seungmin likes a little power struggle. He teases you harder when you resist, slowing his thrust until it's just a lazy roll of his hips against yours because he knows you'll break easily. The fact that he gets to 'break' you, but it has very little resistance, is actually nice for him because he doesn't want to feel like he's fighting to earn your respect constantly.
When you finally do give up your faux resistance, he makes sure to reward you. He'll almost always hold your hands while he pounds into you, kissing your nose and telling you how easy you make it for him. He's big on the affection when you fuck.
"That's it. Give in to it. I know it feels good. You can have more if you give up."
Jeongin:
Prey Subs
Non sexually: Our sweet innie is positively beaming when he sees flashes of worry in your eyes. He knows you're not scared of him. You're just eager for him, and it's fun to him. He loves to catch you off guard and startle you by grabbing your hips and pulling you close to him.
You love it too, of course. Innie is big on consent, and he wouldn't be wrapping his pretty hand around the base of your throat when he kisses your cheek unless he was positive you liked it.
He also likes to poke and prod at you just a little. The playful bullying is a big part of your dynamic and a way he shows his affection whilst reminding you of your place.
Sexually: The chase is everything. On special occasions you'll find yourself playing hide and seek through your apartment building, and it's led to you fucking in the gym more than once. He doesn't really understand why hunting you is so hot, but he's thirsty for it.
When he's not hunting you, he's manhandling you. It's not always rough, but he's always caging you in somehow. His body wrapped around yours, his hand pressed firmly in the middle of your back, your thighs pushed up to your chest. He doesn't really think about it much. He just knows he needs to take you, and he can't help but get a little aggressive.
"Baby, when I find you, I promise I'm gonna be fucking you on the nearest flat surface."
#stray kids smut#bang chan smut#changbin smut#hyunjin smut#lee know smut#chan smut#i.n smut#han smut#jisung smut#felix smut#seungmin smut#jeongin smut#felix x reader#seungmin x reader#i.n x reader#jeongin x reader#han x reader#jisung x reader#hyunjin x reader#changbin x reader#lee know x reader#minho x reader#chan x reader
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this one is thanks to a post by @thegroovyfool because she is very much correct - we do not talk about aziraphale's "i need you" enough.
so once again, with a deep breath and a sigh, welcome back to alex's unhinged meta corner, where i tear apart the confession scene frame by frame. i'm gonna say, watching this particular clip over and over and focusing on aziraphale's face almost took me out.
let's get into it.
first, how about a little look at our starting point. (any blurry screencaps are due to a LOT of movement on michael's part rip)
crowley is very pointedly facing away from him, he turned after aziraphale said "we can be together - angels!", presumably because being offered exactly what he wants in the one way he cannot have it fried his brain, cause besties it surely fried mine.
aziraphale on the other hand looks openly desperate, which is why he says "i need you." more on that later. let's have a look at how he says it, because michael "microexpressions" sheen is putting in the work.
to me, he seems close to tears, his eyes are glistening in that specific "i'm about to cry my eyes out" way i know from looking in the mirror while crying
he is trying to get crowley to listen to him and to turn around. he wants crowley to face him, which is something most people tend to want during an argument. talking to someone who is not looking at you tends to make someone frustrated and like they're not hearing you/do not care about what you have to say.
aziraphale looks close to despair, his i need you is a plea to crowley to come with him. he is opening himself up not just emotionally but physically, too.
he slightly leans forward, his arms are raised and seem to both slightly grasp for crowley and point towards his chest/heart for emphasis. the pure pain visible on his face knocks the air out of me every single time i look at it.
aziraphale is admitting to needing him, something he has never done before, hell, he has told him the exact opposite on numerous occasions. i don't need you. and while they both knew it was a) a lie and b) a way for him to deal with his conflicting emotional standpoints and cognitive dissonance, it still hurt crowley every. single time.
crowley was there for him no matter what, he knows aziraphale needs him but he came back and remained at his side even when he was pushed away and more or less openly insulted. he endured it all.
aziraphale saying i need you now is pretty much a slap in the face but also what crowley needs to hear. as with everything that happens during the entire conversation, the timing is fucked up and they're talking past each other.
in my opinion, that is why crowley does not react.
only when aziraphale turns spiteful and starts questioning his understanding (aka calling him stupid without outright saying it) does he re-enter the conversation.
aziraphale, however, is upset. now, i will put on my tinhat for just a second and turn up the insanity because there are two more things i want to talk about.
first, the little stutter at the beginning.
"i ngk - i need you."
my question is - why? why does he stumble over these words in particular when it does not happen with any other sentence? the only other time is right after crowley walks away with his "good luck", he stumbles over crowley's name.
so, in short, it happens when he is either caught off-guard or saying something incredible emotional.
and this, everyone, is where i go unhinged in my interpretation.
what if he initially did not want to say "i need you?" what if he was so caught up in getting crowley to stay/come with him that he did not think and almost confessed another three word sentence?
what if he was about to say "i love you" but stopped himself because no, that's too direct, they don't do that, they can't do that. it goes against EVERYTHING they have silently build over the last six thousand years. so he chokes on it. he chokes on it and instead he says "i need you" because it means the same thing.
i need you. don't leave me. come with me. be an us. go off together.
i forgive you. i love you.
they say it over and over again because that's the only way they can say it.
that is why aziraphale is so angry and upset after saying it. he told crowley he loves him, he needs him, and all he got in return was silence.
the funny part is that this code may have worked before, but it no longer does. crowley is too hurt to listen to what aziraphale is trying to tell him, and aziraphale is equally as hurt and also not listening anymore.
the funny part is that it stopped being about love and started being about sides again. my side, your side, our side. choose a side, choose our side, choose me.
the funny part is that beelzebub and gabriel told them what they need to do, i found something that mattered more to me than choosing sides.
#alex talks good omens#good omens#ineffable husbands#crowley#aziraphale#good omens season 2#go2#aziracrow#crowley x aziraphale#good omens meta#ineffable divorce#this was spontaneous i saw the post and my brain went i need to do this right now#so i did#anyway if u disagree with my conclusions thats fine i disagree with my own theories often enough#otherwise fandom wouldnt be any fun
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Same person from the fem!Scara question!! I don't want to pressure you much tbh so sorry if I do I really am 😭🙏
Maybe like fem!Scara x fem!reader and you can choose if you want it to be fluff or smut I don't really mind either whatever you feel more confident with!❤️
⟡ you hate her (do you really?), but she’s the only way you can get better grades
— pairing : f!scaramouche x f!reader
— warnings : NSFW; humping; fingering; semi-public?; scara’s a bit degrading (she might say something hurtful but she also calls you “love”)
— a/n : don't worry about it, you're not pressuring me!! ;) ISTG IT WAS GONNA BE FLUFF WITH SOME SMUT AND ANGST AND SLOWBURN, BUT I GOT TOO HORNY IM SORRY!!!
The classroom was a mess again.
Every time it ended up like this, no matter how many different classes the two of you had together, she always managed to make friends in all of them, and her charm attracted people of all genders to her table.
Not that this fact bothered you, since you didn't have many friends in college. But it was different when she always sat next to you and talked in the middle of classes to whoever was next to her.
“Ah… excuse me, do you have a pencil?” You sigh, watching the interaction unfold in front of you. Your left cheek resting on your hand, and a girl with long indigo hair turns with a bright smile to hand the pencil to the colleague next to you.
As always, you were right to assume that it wouldn't end there. Soon the girl starts chattering about her life, exchanging phone numbers with flushed cheeks and biting her lips as she twirls a strand of green hair around her index finger. Scaramouche just responded with a smile and a nod, as usual. She was aware of her attractiveness to both boys and girls, but fooling around wasn't her focus at the moment. That's what she always said.
It irritated you how uncommunicative she was and yet it made her one of the most famous people around campus. Known for her perfect shiny hair, clean and soft skin, big round eyes and lashes that made her look like a doll. In addition to the perfect grades she got in every subject. There was nothing she was bad at, and yet, she still managed to handle her time perfectly to be so social, while also studying to the point of fainting. You don't quite know why though.
But despite everything, you didn't blame her, because deep down you knew it was your fault for not being like her, not being her. She would never know what was going on in your head, nor you in hers. And you’d never expose your dark thoughts for others to hear knowing how wrong you were for thinking that way. You would just have to stay as far away from her as possible. It wasn't that difficult, was it?
So why were you in the library, hugging Scaramouche's arm between your legs like a whore? Begging her to help you with your grades while wiggling your ass and looking at her with those puppy dog eyes like it was just an innocent offer?
To Scaramouche, you were nothing less than an ant. Hiding in the corner and focusing on writing down every single word the teacher said. In any case, your grades always fell and hers went up. Your frustrated expression whenever you received the results of a test and the crumpling of your trembling hands on the paper gave you away. She didn't care enough though, it wasn't her problem.
The different could be said about you, and she could almost feel sorry for those deep dark circles and those teary eyes, accompanied by the wet panties of someone whose pussy hadn’t been touched by an experienced hand in oh so long and someone who was willing to give everything in exchange for better grades and lessons by Scaramouche.
Her silly fingers taking advantage to ghost lightly above your heat, wondering why you wore such short and revealing skirts when you were a complete prude known for rejecting so many guys, almost forgetting your hopeful face desperately waiting for an answer.
Scaramouche's smile makes you swallow hard. She doesn't give you any comfort, despite the words she utters: “let's meet in the study room from now on then. Give me your number so we can choose the days for our meetings.”
You should be relieved, you will no longer need to turn to such low measures to get some alone time with the girl. You thought. But was it right to assume that she wasn’t gonna ask anything in return just because she hadn't responded to your offer to do anything for her? This was too easy.
The days when you were in the study room were peaceful. No one could hear anything from outside, just as you couldn't hear anything happening outside the room. Scaramouche was patient and explained you carefully, you hung on every word and it often left your mind in the clouds.
“Getting distracted, are we?” She said the first time, which made your face blush. Since when could a woman's voice get into your mind like that?
Calm wasn't the right word to describe how she sounded to you, because what your body felt was a hint of anything but calm in those moments.
“I brought some sweets. You like them, don't you? Let's take a coffee break."
And every time you were distracted, she would fill you with sweets and talk to you, keeping the atmosphere easy going and comfortable.
The week for your finals was approaching. Your anxiousness distracted you even more when you met, and Scaramouche tried to be as patient as possible through it. But with things going on at home and having to force a smile on her face at college all the time, she was at her limit.
It happened quite often. She’d put up with a lot of bullshit and the patience you started to grow familiar with, would wear thin the moment you ask her to explain the subject to you one more again. She’d make you be the one to pay for her headache this time.
And you did.
“Getting distracted again, are we?” Something in her voice changed, you couldn't wrap your mind around what. Maybe the hint of cynicism, or the gravity in the gentle tone she always carried in her voice. Something changed.
“‘M sorry… I’ll do better.” You apologized for the nth time in the same day, making Scaramouche's eyelid twitch in irritation.
“Well, I didn’t bring any sweets this time, isn’t that such a shame?” You slowly nod when she doesn't continue her speech and looks at you as if waiting for an answer before getting up and walking around your chair, standing behind it. “I’ll have to keep you busy some other way. Always being a dead weight.” She muttered the last part, but you could hear it anyway. Your heartbeat increasing dangerously when she sighs and holds your face with one hand, squeezing your cheeks and turning it towards the giant mirror that was next to the study table.
“Weren’t you eager at first to give me something in return for teaching you? I want it now.” She demands, slowly releasing your face and reaching down to aggressively squeeze your breast through your clothes, making you gasp in surprise.
“You're so nervous that your nipples are hard all the time. Are you not aware of what a bra is, love?” Her hand makes space between the valley of your breasts. A tight strapless that made your torso so accessible to Scaramouche. Both for her touches and for her lustful eyes to see.
Her finger surrounds your hardened bud, while she lowers her other hand to your belly all the way to your pelvis and presses deliciously down there, making you throw your head back and lay on the girl's shoulder.
“If you eased your frustrations, you wouldn't be so worried about these stupid tests. Do you even touch yourself?” Your cheeks redden and you purse your lips together from embarrassment. “So… do you?” She asks again, clearly demanding an answer from you, and takes it as enough when you shake your head no.
“Too busy for that?” She scoffs, and all you want to do is stick your head under the ground. “It’s our break now, so you’re not wasting any time since we wouldn’t be studying right now anyway.”
She lifts your clothes over your breasts completely and takes off your skirt, leaving you in just your panties wetting the chair with the slick that coats your fabric.
“Look at this delicious tits…” she flicks your nipples between her fingers, getting your hips to press against your seat and your body squirm in need. “Always perk up like this or only when we meet?” She stares at you for a moment before laughing lowly. “You must not know, since you dress like a whore everywhere you go. And you still have to wonder why it attracts so much attention. Naive little thing.” You whine, pouting your lower lip and frowning to feign offense by her words, but it only makes her laugh.
Her hand goes down to caress the soaking area of what would be your panties, marked by your wet pussy, completely disabling the fabric and making you so uncomfortable under your clothes. Still, Scaramouche ignores your hopeless pleas to strip you out of your undergarments and start gently stroking your swollen clit. From time to time, squeezing it between her fingers to hear the sounds your mouth made. Your hand holds hers, trying to press it harder between your legs even though you feel instant shame the moment you see her smirk.
“Someone’s desperate. Go ahead and grind your little clit on my arm like you did that day, sweets.” She reminds you of the day you asked for her help in the first place, rubbing your clothed pussy against her arm when she just wanted to get a book. Likewise, you do as she asks, using both hands to hold her arm still and play with your clit on her soft skin.
The way you scrunch your beautiful face as she goes back to holding your face with one hand tightly so that you are forced to look at your reflection as you cover her arm with your juices, tears running down your face that drives her absolutely crazy to see the results inside your lacy panties. She reaches the limit when she hears you begging: “p-please, wanna cum so bad.” And press your hole to her fingertips in what would be a failed attempt to tear the fabric that separated the two of you.
“Shhh, let me see what you’ve done.” She tells you, kissing your temple and slipping down your underwear to take a look at your clenching walls. It takes her everything not to just fuck you with her skillful tongue right there, but she’s not giving you this time that easily.
With a goodbye kiss and perhaps a “see you another day” on your clit, she turns her head away from your intimacy. You don't even have time to reason and be disappointed before you feel her fingers playing with your entrance again, opening you up to the mirror and exposing everything to the two of you. Your essence went from your insides to down your ass, your aching red clit and your hole dying to be filled and she wasn’t gonna keep it from being played with.
You cover her mouth with awe as she circles your entrance with a finger, pushing it all the way in and keeping it there.
“Ohhh, it went right in~” she teases. “Can you take two at once?” And adds another one right after, without waiting for a response.
Your swollen bud remains ignored for a while, her fingers making long, deep back-and-forth movements quickly, only slamming her palm against the button for a second before pulling away. Wet noises were emitted by the amount of essence that came out of your pussy until Scaramouche was satisfied and pressed her palm on your clit to make delicious circles while her fingers explored your intimacy.
“You want to get off that badly, so I’m giving you what you want now.” She says, fresh breath hitting your neck from behind, kissing and nibbling the skin when she can. You moan loudly and turn your hand to hold onto the collar of her shirt, clenching harder around her fingers and biting your lower lip to suppress a scream when you feel yourself getting closer to your peak.
“Don’t hurt yourself like that, love.” She warns you, but your mind is too foggy to even focus on what's going on right now.
Clicking her tongue with impatience, Scaramouche lowers her head in front of your face and collides her lips with yours at the same time she buries her knuckles deep into your hole.
Your moans vibrate against her mouth as she swallows your beautiful sounds with her tongue. The pleasure is so overwhelming that your back arches and more tears fall down your face the moment you cum.
She does not hesitate to get down on her knees and lick everything off of you and her fingers before standing up, despite your strong grip on her shirt that tells her not to go away like that.
“You’ll have to do better next time so I can reward you then.” She fixes her tie in front of the mirror and throws her soft hair back, not knowing how excited for the next study session she was making you.
The question after all is: you wanna be her or do you wanna be hers?
#𝜗𝜚 [ m0uchie posts! ]#꒰ requests ꒱ྀི#+18 content#fem!scaramouche#f!scaramouche#scaramouche au#scaramouche smut#wanderer smut#scaramouche x reader#wanderer x reader#genshin impact smut#genshin smut
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Purely Transactional
First time really publishing anything I've written for Eddie. No stranger to smut. just to him. Go easy on me.
Eddie Munson smut. The one where you fake date. Picture the 90s. Slow build.
Word Count: 12,872
Picture this; you’re being forced to attend your sisters engagement party, it’s a weekend event a couple towns over. You’ve got a room booked for two, yourself and your boyfriend. Your family can’t wait to meet the man who’s stolen your heart at last. It’s actually the second biggest event in your family history for years. The issue: you don’t have a boyfriend. You haven’t had one since you were 16. You only said you did have a boyfriend because you thought you would have by now. You never saw life going this way at all. Now you either have to fess up to being a single mother of two beautiful little dogs or find a last minute lover to feel less alone. Yay.
You asked everyone you knew. The neighbour, the neighbour’s neighbour. His cousin from out of town, his cousin from out of town’s neighbour. Every single one of your friends and only one of them gave you something or more, someone to work with. “Why don’t you ask Eddie?” You’re slouching on his sofa, sinking into the leather as he strums away at his guitar a joint hanging dangerously from his mouth. “I don’t know him.” You say it like it’s obvious, kicking your feet up. “Which is exactly why you should.” You catch his drift, but you don’t want to. It wasn’t as ideal as he thought it was. “I’m gonna get asked questions.” You deadpan. “So, make some notecards.” You tug the joint from his mouth, bringing it to your own. “Yes you may have that.” You flick him. “Rude.” You take a drag before slotting it back gently between his lips, returning to your seat.
“He won’t do it.” Gareth doesn’t respond. “I know he won’t, he doesn’t like me.” He huffs. ‘You hadn’t given him a chance to’ is what he says in his mind. “Has he told you that?” He quit playing, giving you more of his attention. He really did want to help. “Not exactly, no.” He leaned over his guitar, placing the joint down in his hand painted ash tray on the coffee table. The one you made for him for Christmas the year before. The one that he loved and guarded with his life. “Ask him.” You shake your head. “Ask him.” He says again, the guitar now being rested carefully against the table alerting you that he meant business. “No. Way.” You continue. He moves over to you; you slot your legs across his lap, and he leans back into his seat comfortably under the weight of them. “I’m gonna ask him.” You think he’s joking. You hoped he was joking. He wasn’t joking.
-
“Edward, we don’t know each other that well so I thought you’d be perfect plus you’re kinda the only other single one left, so it had to be you.” There were no lies told. You were the only ones; it might have been the only thing you actually had in common in your little inner circle of friends. You weren’t close but you also weren’t complete strangers. You were a little more than acquaintances, but not really friends. He was your only shot at this, that much you did know. “I resent that.” You roll your eyes, ‘you would,’ you think. You’re running out of options, he was your last chance, you had a week to prepare, this had to be it. You considered throwing in the towel moments before he arrived at your place. Half an hour late. It should have been enough of a sign not to go through with it but then he did arrive. Meaning that somewhere deep down inside him, he was interested. You could work with interested.
“I’ll pay you.” You can’t imagine anything worse; you were desperate sure, not desperate enough to actually pay him but desperate all the same. He seemed reasonable enough though. He had more money now than he knew what to do with and he was close with Gareth. Gareth was good people; he’d turn your offer down; you were sure of it. “How much?” He perks up, stroking his chin now his attention was caught. “You weren’t actually supposed to want payment.” You panicked, feet shuffling, hands tapping your thighs relentlessly. He was smirking. “Isn’t that how this is supposed to work?” He steps in close, a couple feet between you, not enough. “Want me to act like an escort? You’re gonna have to pay me like one.” If you hadn’t ever had a conversation with him, you might have found that attractive. He was tall, dark, and handsome. His jawline so picturesque you may have thought about kissing it once or twice. You also liked his eyes, even if he was cold and callous beneath them, only out for himself. But he wasn’t that attractive, and he didn’t intimidate you like he thought he did. Much.
“Like you don’t have more money than my entire family combined.” You dig. His rock star era made a hell of a name for himself. This was never going to happen. You don’t know why he even entertained it this far. There wasn’t a single helpful bone in his body, no matter how much you wished there were. “How bad do you need a boyfriend sweetheart?” He shortens the space between you even more. Your chest feels tight, the confidence dripping from his tongue was actually working on you, you were out of your depth. The way he looked at you too. Eyes flicking down to your lips and back, head tilting slightly, almost robotically, like he was sizing you up. Seeing if he could make it work. Make you work for him. You felt a heat on the back of your neck. You felt gross.
“100 bucks if they believe it, 50 if they don’t.” You couldn’t believe you were even saying it. You’d have to make him forget you agreed to any of that. “For how long?” He quipped back. “You’re so greedy. I’m gonna have to make a note of that in our very public lovers spat.” You lace it with venom as well as humour, standing your ground. The corner of his lips begins to curl. He fights it. “How long?” He repeats again, just as steady in tone. “A weekend.” You breathe. “Like Saturday and Sunday.” He asks. “Like Friday to Monday,” you respond just as deadpan. “200.” He takes a dangerous step closer. You don’t flinch. “150 and no black eye.” His brows furrow, forehead creasing in confusion. He kind of reminded you of a neanderthal. Dumb little boy.
“Why would I have a black eye?” You raise your fist. “OKAY PUT YOUR FIST DOWN. Jesus woman, I’ll do it.” He admits defeat. “Perfect. I made some note cards, things about me you may get asked about, read them, memorise them, guard them with your life.” You tug the notes from your back pocket, pushing them into his chest abruptly. He looks down at them quizzically. “What if they ask about me?” You shrug your shoulders. “I’m sure you’re not that complex.” He doesn’t attempt to hide how insulted he is by that.
“When is it?” You point to the cards. “All the information you need is in the notes.” He opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again, “how are we-“ you go to open your front door, you’d had the entire conversation in the hallway, not wanting him to go any further into your home than that. “In the notes Edward.” He takes a look down at the cards in his hands, he hated reading other people’s handwriting, made him feel dumb when he couldn’t understand it as well as he’d liked. You joined your letters all curly too which didn’t help. He actually half expected you to dot the I’s with hearts, you seemed like that kind of girl. He wasn’t sure if he was disappointed that you hadn’t.
You’re ushering him out the door, waving your hand to make him move faster. He pauses in your doorframe. You were so close. You could just kick him; he’d be off your property in no time. You wouldn’t have to think about him for another week then. You could pack your bags in peace. “You spelt my name wrong.” He points to the card; you’d done it on purpose. “No, I think your parents did.” He frowns. Before he can respond again you give him that much needed shove out the door. “BYE Eddie!” You slam it behind him, leaning your back against it as if that would prevent him from getting back inside and on top of your nerves again. He found the whole ordeal just as unpleasant as you had but he still finds himself on the other side of that door with a smile on his face. He read every single card you wrote for him. You were way more annoying than he thought.
-
“What part are you guys having trouble understanding?” You ask the table, leaning over, reaching for your cocktail to distract your mouth before you can step your foot in it. You were being tested way harder than you ever anticipated you would. You really never imagined they’d care let alone put you on trial for the crime of getting a boyfriend without their prior knowledge or approval. It’s nice to know how friendly and welcoming they really are when push comes to shove. You’d have to keep that in mind for the real thing, whenever that might be.
You’d laugh the nerves away, but you were afraid you might never stop laughing. You’d just manically laugh until you sank under the table, down into the ground, right to centre of the earth, burning up at the core before passing away painfully. You wished you could laugh. Instead, you just took the longest sip, looking to your left and right as subtly as you could muster under the immense pressure placed upon your shoulders by your sister and her fiancé. Deep breaths, it’ll all be over soon.
“I don’t buy it.” She states matter of factly. “You go from a single dog mom to suddenly in love with the perfect guy.” You open your mouth to speak but you daren't even try, she’s not finished yet. “It’s a little conveniently timed don’t you think?” She waves her hands to illustrate her point in that annoying fashion that only she could. Waving her fresh manicure right in your face, whether accidental or on purpose, still ridiculously annoying and yet another reminder that she had her life together and you didn’t. She turned to her fiancé before glancing towards the rest of the table for back up, all nodding along with her instantly as if she were a puppet master stringing them along. Cowards.
Your gaze remains steady and ice cold, colder than the slushy cocktail in your hands. The only thing that made the weekend worth it was the free bar and the adorable outdoor beer garden. You release the straw after a long sip with an “Ahh.” You try not to enjoy the twitch of your sister’s right eye at the sound. She’d always loathed when people did that. Anyone who made a noise of satisfaction after a drink no matter how delicious or refreshing it may be, was a colossal pain in her ass. You think she just despises other people’s enjoyment. She thinks it’s an unnecessary sound that people tend to use to exaggerate how nice something is as a performance for other people rather than for themselves. She also thinks it’s incredibly unladylike, which gives you a bigger kick to try it out every single time.
“Why would I lie?” You place your drink down harder than you intend to, wincing as the glass clangs on the table so hard you thought it may shatter. “You know I love you sis, but I don’t think I’d go to the length of faking a relationship just because you’re getting engaged.” Which would be such a wonderful sentence to throw out into the universe if that weren’t exactly what you were doing. “I just met the right guy.” You try not to grimace at the cheesiness of it all, that, and the fact you still hadn’t decided if you’d even liked him more than just a piece of eye candy. Because there was no denying that he was attractive, from the start he’d had that going at least. You’d only been admitting it because of the influence of alcohol too. It was just the rest of the package that gave you a headache.
“But he’s-“ You scowl before she continues that sentence, you almost will her to continue. “He’s what?” You push. If anyone were going to come for Eddie they had better make it good because that was an area you excelled in and would absolutely love to be a part of even if you did have to defend him right now. You could always use any good material at a later date when left to your own devices though, a pen and paper would be wonderful.
“He’s not your type.” You don’t believe that’s what she planned to say, it came out far too polite to be something she’d actually thought of. “What is my type then?” You probably shouldn’t have asked her this, but your curiosity trumps all reason. She flails her hand around in her lap, trying to think of the correct way to phrase it. You had no doubt your past relationships were displaying in her mind, enough horrendous options for her to choose from right out of a hat.
“Nerds,” she begins to list on her fingers, which is quite alarming because you really didn’t think you had that much of a track record. “Gamer boys,” which basically comes under ‘nerds.’ “Skinny guys,” that was absolutely not exclusive, “Gamer boy nerds.” She throws 3 fingers up. That’s if she was classing ‘boy’ as a type which you assume she was. You had to hand it to her, she wasn’t entirely wrong about your past dating pool, but Eddie wasn’t exactly far off that. Allegedly, back in his school days, he was the biggest nerd of them all, right before his band took off, he was participating in DnD tournaments and if that wasn’t the epitome of gamer boy nerd then what was? He just happened upon a glow up in his mid-twenties, something you still desperately waited for yourself. “Eddie just, doesn’t seem much of a nerd.” You’re certain that’s not what she intended to say, and you thought she might stop herself there, but she doesn’t, why would she? “He’s, well I hate to say it,” you bet she doesn’t though, “he’s out of your league.” Ahh, there it is. That’s more like it. She even says it with an apologetic expression to make you consider it for a millisecond. If only he were here. Oh, how he’d love this.
Eddie was the lucky one in this scenario, whether it was fake or not, you were a catch. One that no one had ever caught and kept hold of but a catch, nonetheless. Your mom would agree, probably not the best argument but it’s there and it counted. You reached for your drink once again and prayed he returned soon; you were drowning out here and you weren’t even out of the shallows. “Then lucky me.” You sip as aggressively as one can with a shitty paper straw wedged between their teeth. You were so glad the sea turtles were safer at the hands of recycled paper straws, but you so missed being able to drink a cocktail without the added ingredient of paper mache sinking at the bottom of each glass.
“Why are we in luck?” His voice swings in joining the conversation as he walks back over to your table, the chain on his jeans jingling as it swayed while he walked. You’d asked him to remove it, he swore he would, he didn’t. His hearing was impeccable, you wonder what else had slipped by him on his way over. You’d honestly never felt so relieved to hear his voice either, even if his steps closer bought the smell of cheap cigarettes and your early twenties. You’d have loved him back then. Back in college, your first taste of freedom, the option to date whoever you liked, to experiment a little. You’d have eaten up that bad boy, leather jacket, fingers coated in metal, cigarette smoking musician act he had going for him. Quiet and brooding too, oh yeah, your knickers would have never left the floor. Good thing you grew up since then.
He grabbed his chair, pushing it right next to yours, as close as he could get without sitting directly on top of you and for a second you ponder about why he bothered with his chair at all. His eyes burned into the side of your face, and you plastered a smile wide enough to match his as you leant into him. “What took you so long?” You whispered while maintaining that sickeningly sweet smile that hurt your face to pull. “You miss me that much?” He licked across his bottom lip, and you mentally scold yourself for looking at it. “I’m getting eaten alive out here.” He grinned wider. “Must be because you’re so damn delicious.” Your stomach fluttered. What the fuck?
He pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek. You felt yourself relax into him, like his lips had sucked all of the tension from your body. You may not like him very much but you sure were glad he was here right now. Even without the facade, it was hard being in environments where you had to face your entire family alone. It’s not that you weren’t close with them, or didn’t love them, it was just difficult standing your own ground sometimes. You needed that extra shield for the invasive questions and high expectations, the anchor to keep you firmly in place, sure of yourself. It was a tough act to balance.
He couldn’t deny that he’d gained some respect for you for how well you’d handled things. He wasn’t entirely sure he’d manage a family dynamic like this alone, even if he were part of it. He was kind of developing a soft spot for you, probably more than you were anyway. Okay, definitely more than you were. He wasn’t sure when it started. He’d had the message exchanges throughout the last week. He had the detailed notes about your life from start to finish to divulge. The 3 hour car journey where you refused to play music, instead forcing him to answer questions about you in preparation for the event. It was somewhere amongst there. Maybe even when you’d shared a room the past two nights without killing each other. In seeing a vulnerable side of you that made you appear a little more human. He’d also seen a larger portion of you without clothing, that certainly helped.
Yes. Perhaps somewhere around there he’d liked you. All he knew now was that in watching your interactions with your family, it made him want to stick to you like glue and support you the best he could for however long you would let him. You had it covered, and you’d tell him that too, afraid of showing any weaknesses, but that’s exactly why he felt like he should support you, he didn’t want you to feel so alone, you didn’t have to be so alone. He’d known all too well what that was like.
He didn’t even have to force himself to kiss your cheek that time, he’d just wanted to rid your face of the frown that threatened to grace it, even if he found it adorable. His issue now was that he had trouble moving away. His lips lingering, breath tickling your cheek, until you coughed under your breath for him to shift away. For a moment he’d wished it weren’t all play pretend. That he could stay there and have it not feel so strange. He couldn’t pin point when his eyes started to soften at the sight of you. All he knew was that they had. It was getting increasingly easier to act enamoured by you, because, well, he might have been.
“So, what did I miss?” He tilts his head towards the rest of the table, it felt like such a difficult task to withdraw his attention from you. You yourself took the opportunity to catch a much needed breath. You also needed to pat your stomach to hold off the swarm of butterflies scrambling around in there. There was this dizzying, uneasiness in the pit of your tummy, like you were fighting the emotions within yourself. Those damn love bugs were wasting their time going crazy for this situation. It wasn’t real, not worth the energy. Surely you didn’t need to be convinced of that, it was clear as day. You didn’t need this unnecessary nausea. “We were just talking about what a wonderful couple you are.” Your brother in law speaks, directing his attention towards the man at your side. You really thought you’d liked that man, he betrayed you. You kept a special scowl just for him. He felt hot under the collar when he felt the intensity of it. Good, you thought. Traitor.
Eddie bravely dipped his hand down onto your thigh where he’d noticed your hand was already resting, slipping his fingers between yours, resting atop your knuckles effortlessly for all to see. You’d felt your breath hitching in your throat. The simplicity of the action shouldn’t have caused such a stir, but it was just so easy for him. He was so touchy feely like it was the most natural thing in the world. He loved to touch, and you never expected it from him. It was one of the main reasons that made it so hard to remain sure that this was all an act. Was he like this with everyone? You’d half hoped he wasn’t, even if your other half screamed at you for that naivety. It wasn’t exactly your love language, but you’d wished it were, you wanted to touch him. Too many drinks maybe.
“Why do I feel like that’s sarcasm?” He threw back with nothing but charm, sweet like honey dripping from his tongue. If he weren’t in a band you could certainly picture him as an actor with some of the crap he pulled. Sometimes he even had you believing this whole thing, lines blurring like no other. Especially when nuzzled his nose into your neck eliciting a squeal from your lips. All before deciding to stay there, sitting with his chin resting on your shoulder happily. Like the most casual position in the world.
Your heart pounded against your chest. His arm slunk around your waist. His mouth opened for you, signalling you to bring his cocktail and straw between his lips to take a sip. A ridiculously over the top public display of affection you swore you’d never partake in. Yet for some reason your hands were ignoring every judgment your mind was making, allowing you to feed him his drink like some kind of mother to a parched child. It was interesting to you how fast you’d been able to communicate with him like that without it ever needing to be said or asked for. “You owe me.” You whisper. “Not how this transaction really works.” He says between sips rather impressively. It might even be considered cute if it wasn’t such a threat. Your cheeks burned.
“It just seems so sudden.” Your sister just can’t bite back her tongue for more than two seconds huh. You’re literally sat there with giant, red, beaming heart eyes for each other. So, close your personal space would never be described as such for as long as you shall live, ever again. Literally feeding each other. Squeezing each other’s hands. Hating every second you’re apart. Feeling like you may break without the other. Whispering sweet nothings (more like threats but no one else had spotted that) into each other’s ears. You’re both so over the top, overwhelmingly infatuated (although falsely) with each other you may as well claim this engagement party as your own and YET, no one believed you for a second. Hell, even you thought you might be falling. Thank you vodka.
“When you know, you know.” You say, lifting your hand to pat his cheek after putting his drink back on the table. He squeezes your other hand instinctively. He’d almost forgotten he was holding it in the first place, it felt so nice and soft, like it belonged in his. It could belong there. “What will it take to convince you?” He offers. You squeeze his hand even harder, this time hoping to pump the breaks on this one. As much as you appreciated him sticking up for the relationship. You weren’t up for a quick fire round of questions that you weren’t prepared in the slightest. Especially since he refused to learn the answers to any potential enquiries a day prior. Deeming the impromptu quiz session in the car ‘enough learning for a lifetime.’
“Ed,” is all you warn while you beg him to shut up with your mind instead. “No, no sweetie, we can answer all the questions they have.” He grinned at you so menacingly; you wanted to wipe that smirk right off his adorably smug little face. Woah. When did he become adorable? Scratch that. Shush. You’re so pissed you don’t even fawn over the pet name, much. You may as well pack your bags now and return home though, you were done for, the hoax was over. The end.
“What’s her favourite band?” Okay, we’re actually doing this. “Or singer, if that’s easier.” Ryan, your least favourite brother in law and your only brother in law, fires out. He only knew the answer himself because he tried to impress you one Christmas by buying you a limited edition vinyl. Of all the people at this table, you thought at least he wouldn’t be sceptical of you. Unbelievable.
“There isn’t just one, its multiple, depends what mood she’s in.” You’re intrigued already on where this is going. Your sister jeered at the response, already less than impressed. Eddie turns his head, lifting his hand to silence her before she can say anything. You almost pat him on the back for it. “But, if I had to choose.” Which he did. He really did. “Queen, Black Sabbath, and I’m going to add Corroded Coffin in there because she’s our number one groupie, aint that right babe?” You allow yourself to roll your eyes at the last part, even if you were dating you doubt you’d let him describe you as a groupie, dick.
“That’s easy, they’re pretty generic choices.” You had to give them that one, it wasn’t the most cut throat list of indie artists you could only associate with your taste and yours only. You’d been a bit of a basic music lover your whole life and there was no shame in that. You liked what you liked and that was okay. You were still impressed he knew any of your list though. Maybe he actually had read your notes, lying shit. Definitely not adorable. “Favourite food?” Okay, still going. You lean back, may as well get comfortable since you’re going to be here for a while.
He snorted before answering that one and you wondered what was so insanely funny that could make him move his hand away from your thigh to explain it properly. You missed his touch the second you were without it. Gag. “Bread.” He giggled just saying it, the kind of giggle where the creases beside his eyes really stood out and his cheeks bunched up all precious and pudgy underneath them. You can’t help but smile.
“But not just plain bread right,” he looked to you before continuing as if to say ‘hey, watch this, look at me.’ He thinks he has you down. You indulge him. “So, bread in its many forms,” he lifted his fingers to start listing, “sandwiches, toast, brioche, fried bread, french toast, pizza dough, the list goes on right but at the height of it all,” he really gestured above his head to signify the detailed tier system of bread options. He added a small and useless breather to gain anticipation, it wasn’t working. “Garlic bread.”
You snorted a laugh yourself this time. Not because he was wrong either, because he was 100% correct in fact. You were mortified that, that was your own answer. He locked eyes with you in a way that he hadn’t done before, with genuine affection, maybe even a glimmer of hope that he’d done you justice. He was captivated by you, your cheeks bursting with redness, your smile tight, starting to hurt you in fighting it. You looked so pretty right now. The glow of the lamps out in this beer garden just added to the radiance he already thought you had. He couldn’t believe a girl as pretty as you considered bread your favourite food.
He also found the noise you made to be one of the cutest things he’d ever heard, and he wished he could make you do it again someday. He really didn’t consider himself that funny though. He might have to get some drinks down you for another laugh like that. “I thought your favourite were sour patch kids?” Your sister argued, using her nails again to assist her point. Eddie quickly chimed in before you could go to correct her.
“Actually, that was her hyper fixation for a little while, ate every flavour except lemon. Which are my favourite, so it works out pretty well.” Your jaw may as well have hit the floor. He’d only known that from the car ride up here. You were about to throw the packet out before he stopped you, complaining you were wasting money and food since you left all the yellow ones. You were shocked he remembered. If you were impressed by him right now, surely everyone else had to be too, right? Wrong.
“Celebrity crush?” He answered this quicker than you or he would like to admit. You also just didn’t know how he came to the conclusion he did and how he was so correct with it, suspicious. “Harrison Ford hands down, can’t even knock it, he’s a handsome man.” The next question went swimmingly too. “Favourite hobby?” He gave it a thought for a second, glancing to you and back, “painting, she’ll say she’s no good at it but actually she’s got a gift. I’ve never seen anyone use colour the way she does. Actually, considered using some of your work for album art.” He turned to you towards the end, and you struggled to decipher whether it was bullshit or not. Your heart actually ached at the thought of it being true.
“Favourite movie?” Your brother in law’s turn to ask. You threw your head back in exasperation. “What is this, the Spanish inquisition? Is this really necessary?” You looked to your sister and her future husband. “Yes!” They admitted in unison. Eddie’s hand returned to your thigh, patting it softly, his thumb rubbing soothing shapes into your bare skin. It was working. God it was working. He was like ice against your fire, the way he cooled you.
“I’ve got this.” He assured you. “Yeah, you kind of do, that’s why it’s so fucking weird.” You admitted quietly but not enough as to hide it from anyone else, deeming it safe for public consumption. He smirked. “Scared I know too much about you?” You were. You were terrified. This time you do lower your voice. “Just didn’t know you could actually read. Guess my notes were a great help after all.” You stuck your tongue out. For a second he thought about taking it in his mouth, probably some other filthier thoughts floated around his brain too. It was something about the proximity and the cocktails you’d shared, you could always blame those.
“Anything Tim Burton but her favourite would have to be the one with Winona,” he knows he has it right, but he just can’t think of the name, turning to you momentarily for help, you mouthed “Edward Scissorhands” before he nodded and repeated it. Considering it featured his own name, you’d think he would remember it. He then paused, not for dramatic effect but so he could smile to himself as he thought about why that was your favourite. “It depicts the whole Frankenstein’s monster thing just finding his way into suburbia but we as the audience” he gestured to his chest, “see a lot more heart than that, an innocent kind of love, one we all want to make us feel worthy, naive really, but ultimately sweet and sacrificing.”
You leant in, your lips close to his ear. “If we were really dating, you’d be getting your dick sucked so hard tonight.” It took every bone in his body not shut the evening down and carry you back to your hotel room with that false promise in mind. He instead tried to ignore the now throbbing sensation in his trousers. Had you always done that to him?
“Ok those are fairly standard.” In what world was his last answer not specifically catered to you? “How about a random trivia round?…” The suggestions just kept going. If this were the only worthy form of entertainment they could find, married life was going to be abysmal. “Or.” He began and this is when you really, really started to panic, like exponentially. There was nothing that could have helped him out now. Your notes only consisted of the likes, dislikes, and the fake scenario in which you first met. There was nothing else. That was the end of the script. He couldn’t be that good at improvisation. You didn’t want the opportunity to find out either. You were no casting director. He no longer had to impress you or anyone else. If they were still at odds with the situation then so be it. You couldn’t please everyone. It really shouldn’t have taken you that long to realise it. Huh. The more you know.
“I can tell you about how she makes me feel.” You really, truly would rather you didn’t know. If it’s the truth, it would hurt. If it was a lie, well that might hurt even more. You begged the universe to keep him quiet. Whatever he had to say was going to blow your cover and throw this whole shit show up in flames. Your sister seemed so keen and intrigued enough to let him continue. You however, said your final goodbyes to any future you had where you weren’t a laughing stock for the entire family. A future where Eddie Munson couldn’t reject and discard you publicly. Now it was a very real possibility, you were far more upset than you ever thought you would be. Eddie glances at you briefly, bucking up the courage to put on the biggest and most detrimental show of his entire life.
He doesn’t face your sister when the words come tumbling from his mouth. He faced you, addressing you like he needed you to hear this and fuck, maybe he did. You actually felt touched about it until he opened his mouth. “You’re kind of a fucking weirdo.” You went to shut him up as the embarrassment crept in, but he spoke louder as he often did. “You are, you’re a freak- and it’s so, it’s refreshing.” Your mouth closed but oh, so slowly. You began to listen to him, decided to trust him. “You’re fucking nuts.” You rolled your eyes. How many ways were there, to describe you as crazy? Why did he feel the need to use all of them? “But I like it. I do. I feel like I can be myself around you.” He talked with his hands a lot as he scrambled the words, rings clinking against each other. You reached for them, settling them in your lap and he silently thanked you for it. Everything got a whole lot easier when you held his hand.
“You make it feel okay to be a bit crazy. You don’t have to be so straight or basic, you can just, be.” Just as you started to smile, you saw that you weren’t the only one. It was working, his little speech was actually working. “I like who I am around you. Even if sometimes you don’t. I like that you tell me when I piss you off. I like that you act like you hate me when you don’t. I like that you’re so fucking stubborn and headstrong you’d never rely on anyone else and that pisses me off.” You felt tingling racing across your chest. “I love that no moment with you feels forced. That, that smile, right there could make flowers bloom.” He gestured to your face with both of your hands linked together. “That your glare could cause a fucking storm or something.” You tried not to get swept up in the fact he’d stopped saying ‘like.’
“I love that everything feels okay when your hand is in mine, even when you try and say you don’t like holding hands, you’re too good at it to hate it. You know exactly the right moments.” He shook his head with a disbelief. It started to feel so real. “I think I’d miss you even if I’d never met you.” His hand tightened around yours when he said his last sentence. “And I’m glad I met you. I hope one day you’ll be glad you met me too.” The rest of his speech hadn’t mattered when he uttered those words. The words that knocked the breath out of you, leaving you fighting for your life in the seat next to him. You don’t think anyone had ever referred to you so kindly in your life, even if he did call you fucking mental at least 5 times throughout.
He couldn’t even breathe. He’d said it. He’d let it all out and now he just saw the look of shock on your face and couldn’t take a single breath, not knowing how you’d react. It was news to him too though. He could play it off as a lie, say he saw it in a movie, some chick flick or something. He’d copied it because of course he had. But then again, on the off chance you weren’t horrified, he wasn’t sure if he had any more guts left to tell you it was true. He just knew that he needed to do something. He had to fill this painful silence somehow and thankfully, he didn’t have to do it alone.
You kissed him. You scraped your jaw off the floor, and you kissed him. You’d not kissed him like this before. Like your life depended on it. Like he was the very air you needed to breathe. Like he’d meant every word he’d just said, and you’d believed it. God you might have even felt the same. You were also slightly ashamed to say, it had your panties soaking between your thighs. Not to mention your heart thundering in your chest.
Eddie kissed you as if he were tattooing his words across your lips for all of eternity. Because for the first time throughout this whole charade, he was actually allowed to mean every word he had said, whether he knew this was how he was feeling at the start of the evening or not. Neither of you could have predicted a confession like this. Even after giving one, he wasn’t quite believing it himself. But fuck, there was freedom in it. There was a lovely form of permanence. Him knowing his words were out there for the universe to take and make with what it will. He felt weightless. It wasn’t the cocktails. Something just clicked in his brain, and he knew it. You were everything.
You melted into each other when his lips found yours. It was sweet and slow but confident, with purpose. Each stroke of his lips against yours carefully considered and carried out like clockwork. You’d felt a rush from this kiss. It was hungrier than any other you’d shared. Quite frankly it was starved. You’d pressed up against him so hard and he’d done just the same to you. His hands coming up to tilt your chin up towards him for more. As if you hadn’t been close enough already. Its only when you gasped at his touch did he slip his tongue into your mouth. You knew he’d had so much practice kissing women like this, but you couldn’t care. You allowed him inside, welcomed the way he licked into your mouth delicately. Blissfully enjoying the taste of his last cigarette on his breath, shocked that it’s not even a put off for you right now.
His words had gotten you drunker than the cocktails you’d been knocking back all evening. You almost whined when he dragged himself away from you. It was way too premature for your liking. Your eyes remained on him and only him as your hands fell back from their place atop his shoulders. You weren’t even sure when they’d gotten there in the first place, just swept away with nothing but him to guide you.
He smiled at you; a smile you know he hadn’t been pretending. You were about to lean back in, sealing that gap between you, before you were reminded of exactly where you were. In public. Very much in public. You sank back into your seat sheepishly, heat rising to your cheeks, burning hot like lava ready to erupt. Eddie threw his arm around you, and you seized the opportunity to hide your face in the crook of his neck out of embarrassment. He thought it might be the cutest thing you could possibly have done. He even struggled to wipe the blush off his own cheeks. He felt like a school boy again. “Okay, fine, we believe you.” Your sister threw her hands up in defeat. You’d forgotten what you were even aiming to prove, your head was so flooded with hormones. It remained that way until you were back inside the hotel.
-
Back in the safety of your room, deep in the darkness, the only light being from the glowing orange streetlights outside, you found yourself nervous for what would come next. You needed a moment to think. “I’m going to take a shower.” You said softly. “Do you mind?” He shook his head, unable to speak. You’d think that after he’d already lay everything down on the table, that he’d find it easier to approach you, but he resorted back to silence. “Go ahead.” He offered. You wanted to ask him to join you. You didn’t. You just thought about it while you locked the bathroom door behind you. When you wiped off your makeup. When you turned the water on and waited for it to heat up before stripping and stepping inside. You thought about it even under the water, arm stretched out to reach you shampoo. You still didn’t.
He’s already tucked away under the sheets, while you’re in there. He thought about falling asleep, willing himself into a trance before you could return, he couldn’t. His mind was swimming with thoughts. He instead insured that the wall of cushions you’d built on night one, was as high as it ever was. There to wedge a distance between you once more. Which is what you wanted, right? It was your main housekeeping rule for sharing a bed.
“Hey." He breathed, as you returned from the bathroom, steam seeping out after you. He was nervous. You ignored it. He lay flat, facing the ceiling, his arms fastened at his sides above the covers. You shouldn’t let your eyes wander but the light had given you a clear path to follow, leading you to the tattooed arachnid of his chest. You wanted to touch it, you’re not sure why. You slipped silently into bed beside him, only you turned your back on him, willing the conversation to end. But you didn’t actually want it to be over.
He rolled over without so much as a creak being made on the old bed. He barely even tugged the cover from you. It’s like a move too sudden would spook you and send you running, it might have, he couldn’t be certain. “Do you think the great wall of prevention might be ready to come down?” He nudged it into your back for emphasis. He didn’t want the night to end. You didn’t either. And yet, your stomach twisted to think of an excuse, a reason for it to stay very much where it was. Only you didn’t find one. “Okay.” You spoke softly. “Okay.” He repeats just as low, just making sure. You hardly felt him moving them. It was so unlike him to be so gentle, so light handed, treading carefully. He was so cautious and calculated, you never thought he had it in him. The cushions were gone. Now what?
“I’m gonna ask you something, you don’t have to say yes, but I really need to ask it so please just hear me out.” There were a million different things he could have asked you; you’d never have enough time to predict it or rehearse the correct answer, you could only breathe as you anticipated it. “Can I hold you?” It felt good to say it, even if his breath was shaky and his heart felt like it might just pack in. He really wanted to touch you. That was before he even saw you there, lay in the warm glow of the light, hair still a little damp, loose over your shoulder, your t-shirt clinging to your body.
The sheets weren’t covering your lower half as well as you’d thought they were, not now the barrier between you was down. Now he could see the lace band of your panties peeking bellow your sleep shorts. He was about to abandon the whole ordeal. Just a peek shouldn’t have been enough to stir him between his legs and maybe it wasn’t, not on its own. But if he’d counted every other occasion tonight where you’d looked too pretty, sounded too sweet, it all added up and he guessed it contributed to the problem.
He started to worry when you didn’t answer him. You obviously weren’t asleep. You were clearly fiddling with the sheets, your fingers tugged at the material anxiously. He’d completely overstepped, he should have expected that. You weren’t together. You wouldn’t ever be together. That was all this entire weekend was supposed to be after all. Just an opportunity to fake it. How could he be so stupid? “Come here.” He looks down to see you half turned back to him, the duvet lifted, giving him even more of a view of your shorts, but he tried not to look at you too much. To just see the invitation, which was what mattered the most.
He wasn’t sure how to approach, you couldn’t help him either. You would spoon, that was a given, you hadn’t budged your position, left him no choice but to mould his body around yours. He shuffled closer, awkwardly trying to stretch his right arm underneath your pillow without lifting your head, hurting your neck. He curled around your back, leaving inches between you, like he couldn’t quite make himself grow any closer. His left arm rested on his own hip, too afraid to reach out and touch yours. He’d asked to hold you. Why can’t he hold you?
You took matters into your own hands. You blindly reached behind you, hands finding his. Your one superpower. You interlock your fingers with his and bring his arm around your waist, the heat of his body coming with it. You could probably feel his heart pounding chest now he allowed it to press against your back. You definitely felt the goosebumps climbing his arms when you pressed a feather light kiss to his knuckle. His heart leapt in his chest.
“What was that for?” He lifted his head, you don’t know it, but he can see enough of your face from this angle to catch the blush on your cheeks and the smile that crept onto it. He’s reassured by it. “Just felt like it.” You shrugged. Only he doesn’t buy it, but he won’t push his luck. His head hit the pillow, only this time, he’s closer to you. His nose is nearly buried in your apple scented locks. You were so sweet smelling at all times, but that apple was just so incredibly you. He knew you’d only used the stuff because it came in a green bottle too. Because only you would map your product selection on the colour alone. It was one of the first facts in your note cards, that your favourite colour was green.
Fuck. He thinks. He really fucking liked you. He wouldn’t even curse himself for it. You weren’t what he expected, and he liked that. He liked that this didn’t go to plan. He liked that he couldn’t pretend any longer. He was grinning to himself, chuckling even. He boldly buried his head in the crook of your neck like he’d done a couple of times that night but more invasively now there wasn’t much space between you.
“What’s so funny?” You shook his hand in yours. “Hmm?” You fought a laugh yourself; his laughter was infectious; it was just stupid and cute and stupid. “Gareth was right.” He said. You turned your head back slightly, unable to see anything really, before giving up and leaning into the pillow again. “Bout what?” He leaned his head on your shoulder, lips nearing your ear. “Told me this wouldn’t work.” Interesting really, since he ushered you into asking him into this at the start. You’re suitably confused. He’s holding you, giggling in your ear, body warm against yours in this stupidly large bed that he’d made feel tiny, after convincing your family how in love you are, and he said it wasn’t working. That Gareth, your biggest influencer, had also predicted it. Well, you’d have said the opposite.
“This isn’t working.” You have a questioning tone. “Didn’t seem like that downstairs.” You were defensive, rightly so. “No, not like that.” He started. Your grip on his hand loosened and he panicked. ‘Just say what you mean, say what you mean,’ he tells himself. “Turn over.” He leant himself up, still firmly on his side. “Why?” He rolled his eyes. “Please turn over.” He pleaded. “Whyy?” You say again. “Fuck, would you just-“ he shook his hand free from yours, placing it firmly on your hip and he twisted you, so you were flat on your back, facing up at him with surprise. He didn’t expect that to work as well as it did.
“You’re so fucking annoying.” He huffed. “Thanks.” Your arms crossed over your stomach, you tried to avoid his gaze, but he manoeuvred himself so that he was directly above you. He decided you couldn’t be trusted to keep you gaze anywhere but on him. You had to give him a shot. Your expression had softened at the sight of him. Just like he’d hoped. His stupid round cheeks. The dumb smile. Why was he always smiling?
“I wanna kiss you.” He said. You thought he was childish. “Is holding not enough?” He shook his head. “Never enough.” He leaned in close, but he doesn’t kiss you, not yet. His forehead just pressed against yours, his lips hovered, breath tickling your own mouth. “Can I?” He begged for it. “Yes.” You breathed. He does. His lips brush yours and it’s just as nice as every other kiss he’d given you. You’re not sure why you expected it to be different all of a sudden. You just had the idea that maybe it would be. Now that you, well now that you actually liked it.
But it wasn’t different, it was exactly the same. “Eddie.” You whined. “Yeah?” He was upset that you’d interrupted such a crucial moment. “It doesn’t feel like I thought it would.” Your fingers stroked over his cheek; he arched a brow to question you. “We have kissed before; you remember that right?” He teased. You couldn’t have been that drunk. “Yes. Shut up. That’s not what I meant.” He’s still not on the same page although relieved somewhat that you were in fact sober like he thought.
In his mind that kiss was perfect, electrifying, mind blowing, the best kiss yet, you’d have known it too if you didn’t stop him so quickly. “What’s it feel like?” He tried to understand. You thought for a moment. What did it feel like? Warm, soft, sweet, he was one of the sweetest tastes. Where most men would taste of mint, Eddie didn’t. He tasted like cigarettes and the kiwi and strawberry gum he chewed to mask the scent of them on his breath. It didn’t work completely, it more meshed together into its own unique flavour.
It felt nice. “Feels normal.” You said it like it was a bad thing and he can’t understand why. “What’s so wrong with that?” You tried to shake your head. Shake some sense into yourself. You were blowing it. “Kiss me again.” You didn’t have to ask him twice. He pushed his lips against yours, harder than the first time, much harder. Barely leaving a gap between you. Suffocating you with his kiss. He feels like this time he has to try harder; he needed to give you his all. There had to be more.
His lips glided over yours, his lips rough but still careful. His tongue poking out slowly, licking gently over your bottom lip. You part it instinctively and the second his tongue slithered across your teeth, you finally felt it. You don’t know why it took you till the second try. You’re so grateful you felt it at all, but you were panicking for a second, thinking you’d made this huge mistake because how could you let yourself fall for him after all this nonsense? Then you felt it, that spark kicking you to life. That fire in your belly, burning you up inside, begging for his coolness to dampen it down. You fucking needed him.
Your hands gripped his shoulders, nails tucking into them just a little. He’s feeling the heat radiating from you, your energy pouring into him. He’s smiling against your mouth as your tongue meets his briefly. He just knows that this time, he’s got you. “You had me worried there for a second.” He panted, not wanting to pull away but needing to say something. You kissed him over and over, distracting him. Now you’d started, you couldn’t stop. “I know, I’m so cruel.” He smirked, kissing you back just as vigorously, hand coming to your throat, resting gently on it before tilting your chin up towards him.
You captured his eyes, so dark, nearing black in the dim light. If it weren’t for the golden flecks you’d be convinced they really were that dark. “Had to be sure.” He pecked your lips. “Yeah?” You did the same. “Yeah.” He’s so close that every time his eyes closed and reopened, you felt his lashes fanning your cheeks. “And now?” He asked so hopefully, heart on the line as he waited on your answer. You wanted to make him wait, torture him a little, not tonight, tonight you were kind enough to put him out of his misery. “Now I want you.” You said. He could have punched the air with excitement.
You’re kissing again. Scrambling around, his body lowered on top of you, one hand resting on your cheek, the other grazing your hip bone. His body shuddered when you whimpered under the weight of him. You let your legs widen as he slipped between them, all before he lifted your thigh, depositing it safely around his waist. You prayed that he didn’t immediately feel the dampness in your shorts but you’re not the only one struggling.
His hard on rubbed into you, your lips parting with surprise. “Fuck.” He muttered, momentarily halting your make out session, the heat between your thighs overwhelming him. You sensed his embarrassment, his cheeks burning with it. “Me too.” You breathed. Lips pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose as your hand slipped between you, coming down to cup his bulge boldly through his shorts.
The groan he released is sinful, maybe even painful. He felt big. He felt impossibly big. He wouldn’t fit in your hand, maybe not even in the two of them. He thrust into your hand when he felt you touch him. It was his first instinct; he couldn’t fight it. “Shit, sorry.” You caught his lips, tugging his bottom one between your teeth, releasing it slowly. “Gonna move my hand, want you to do it again.” If he thought he was embarrassed at his neediness before, it was about to get a whole lot more mortifying.
Your hand moved away, he was grinding his hips down into you as you’d asked, and you felt the way his cock jumped into action. “Baby.” You panted. He’s sure his heart is going to explode, maybe his cock too, probably that first. “Say it again.” He needed it. “Baby.” You kissed him. He’s rocking his hips into you, you started rotating your own, rubbing yourself over his cock, hand moving out of the way. “Baby, baby, fuck.” He’s covered your lips with his, nose mashed up against you, you can’t breathe, you don’t even want to, you wouldn’t miss the feeling. All of this felt so much more important. “Feel so good.” You whine. He never would have thought you’d be so vocal. You didn’t seem like the type. Thought you’d be a bit of a brat maybe but not this, not confident and sexy and so sure of what you wanted. He could love that; he could love you.
“More, need more.” You’re eyes rolled back when he’s lifting your hips with both hands, pulling your core over him. His cock slipping through your folds through too many barriers of clothing. “Shit Ed.” You felt the sensation of fire burning into you, setting you alight. You’re dizzy and hot and you just felt so good against him. The friction of his shorts might have been frustrating, but it was also, so rewarding. It was such a good roughness against your clothed mound. “Are you?” He can’t even say it, too busy dragging you over his cock. “I’m, fuck, Eddie.” He doesn’t stop, not for a second, not for a beat. He makes you ride it out. He’s so stupidly proud of himself. He’d barely touched you and you’d come undone. You’d actually fucking came. “Fucking unreal for me.” He slowed himself down before he followed a similar path to destruction.
He’s pushing your hips back down, letting your body sink into the mattress, pulling away from you to catch a breath. “I can’t believe that.” Your hand floats through your hair combing it back. He’s resting back on his knees, still between your legs. “You’re so fucking hot.” His eyes don’t look anywhere but your face. Your shirt is half way up your chest, bare tits poking out for him to see and yet, he doesn’t look.
You can’t say you share the same sentiment. Your eyes raced to the outline of his erection in them grey basketball shorts. You drank in the sight before you and your teeth clamped down into your lower lip. He reached down to squeeze your thigh. “My eyes are up here.” He gestured with his index and middle finger. You smirked up at him. “Kind of wish they weren’t.” You didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah?” You nodded. Eyes falling back to his very, large problem that he now palmed through his clothing. Shit, even his own hand wouldn’t cover him.
“Gonna keep looking or do you feel like helping?” His voice was awfully steady for someone ready to come apart at the mere thought of your touch. “You want me to?” You’re not sure what you’re asking. “Need you to.” He said. You sat yourself up. “Gonna take this shirt off me first?” You looked up at him, eyes wider than he’d ever seen, somehow so innocent even though you were anything but. “Of course, I am.” His hands didn’t waste any time lifting the material off over your head. You felt the bite of a chill rush over you, your nipples hardening, perking up with it. “So, very, sexy.” He can’t believe his luck. You’re amazed that you don’t feel shy, being so exposed to him. Guess that was good, it felt natural, you felt safe.
“Gonna help you.” You warned, hands slipping down into his shorts. You gasped at the immediate contact with his bare skin. “No underwear.” He smirked down at you. “Fucking slut.” Your hand cupped him just like before, yeah, definitely needs more than one hand. “You love it.” He chanted “I do.” You confirmed, squeezing him hard. The rush of air that left his mouth, oh it made this all so worth it. You tried to be bolder, you took his length in your palm for the first time. You gripped him tight and moaned in unison. He moaned at the feeling of finding home in your soft touch. You moaned; at the way your hand can’t even wrap around him fully. He’s too thick, too girthy, there wasn’t enough of you to take it all.
“Do something.” He urged, forehead leaning on yours for stability more than anything else. “Ah right, that’s what I was doing.” You play as you sprang to action, your hand lifting to the throbbing head of his cock, letting the trickles of beaded cum roll into your palm before you can cover him in it using it whilst you twist your hand up and down his length. “Ohh, fuck.” It came out gravelly. He’d never thought much of hand jobs, said no to many throughout his life, never being worth the time, never feeling as good as his own hand. This though. You. Your hand. You touched him and he swore your hand was made to hold his cock. Even if that sounded ridiculous, there had to be some way of it being true because he felt so good. His cock was slick and hot, it glided through your grip with ease and your tightened fist on him, it was incredible.
You knew to tug him hard at the base, to loosen around his tip. To constantly use his pooling arousal to your advantage. You worked his cock better than anyone else could, maybe even better than him. You weren’t rushing, you didn’t wank him hard begging for it all to be over, getting bored of the feeling. No, you just touched him. Switching your pace. Listening to his hot little sounds. Paying attention to what made him twitch, what made him rut his hips into your palm. You loved touching him, you wanted to touch him forever, every which way you could.
He started fucking your hand. He’s not sure he can stop himself and you’re so turned on by it you actually moan. “What are you doing to me?“ He’d never felt like this before. You’d made him so weak. He was desperately thrusting into your fist like a pathetic little virgin, and you were moaning. He had to be making this up, you weren’t real, none of this could have been real. “Fuck Ed.” You’re soaked at the idea of it all, you even clenched down on fucking nothing, the thought of him inside you instead of just the palm of your hand, it’s too much to bear. “Need to fuck me.” You quicken your pace, your hand tugging at him desperately. “Fuck, fuck. Stop, you gotta stop.” He doesn’t want you to, God knows he doesn’t, but if you don’t, he’s gonna fucking bust all over your perfect little hand.
He forced your hand out of his shorts and you have the audacity to pout up at him when he does. “You’re something fucking else.” He pushed you back, your head drops happily onto your pillow. “Something good I hope.” You toyed with him, and he is about to lose it. “Take these off.” He tugged at your own shorts, and you didn’t budge. “Off.” He commands, climbing off the bed, feet hitting the cold wooden floor of the hotel room.
You shifted behind him, pulling your shorts and panties down your thighs, tossing the material to the general vicinity of your shirt. Your hands are once again in your hair, combing through it with nerves just eating away at you. You ached for him. Your thighs were squeezed so tightly shut you thought he might never pry them open again. You were on edge, literally dying there waiting. He’d dropped his shorts; they’d hit the ground quietly. He stepped out of them quickly, hand lifting to touch himself, he let out a quiet hiss when he did. He was so turned on, cock so tight and hot in his hand, he’d bury himself in you and never wish to leave.
He climbed back onto the bed, settling on his knees like he had before. His hand rolled delicately across his tip, soaking himself still, using his own arousal to ready himself for you. His cock had a wet sheen in the light. You thought it looked even more delicious now with a coating like that. Perhaps your legs would part after all. “You sure?” He thinks he knows your answer, but he’d hate himself if he didn’t check. This had all been so perfect, better than he could have ever imagined because God, his imagination wasn’t half as creative enough to make you up. You were far better than anyone he’d ever known. The more he knew you, the better you got. Each and every layer, prettier or wittier or more perfect. You must have been real. Real and a gift made just for him because you had him hook line and sinker. He was dumb to credit himself for thinking he imagined you a few moments ago.
“Fuck me.” You spoke. He shook his head. Leaning over you, tip throbbing hard when it breached your walls for the first time before making a heady retreat, running through your slick, wet, lips instead. “Can’t.” He said. Running his cock up and down, eyes flickering shut, throat drying with his pure fucking thirst for you. “Why not?” You furrowed your brow. He’s right there, all he had to do was enter you. You could just lift your hips and he’d slip his fat cock inside. “Can’t call this fucking, not when you feel this good.” You think you might have passed out when pushed inside of you. “Oh, fuck.” He covered your lips to catch your moan. He didn’t think about the fact he’d be sinking in further, bottoming out, pelvis to pelvis with you when he did.
Your legs wrapped around him so tightly your heels began to dig into his tasty, round backside. You fasten him in place intentionally. You needed to feel him. Needed to feel him in his entirety, pulsing inside you. He bit down on your shoulder till he tasted a metal zing of fresh blood, he’d apologise at a later date. For now, he needed it. You were sopping wet around him, engulfing his cock in a warm, tight sleeve. With each breath you took he slipped a little bit further inside. You felt so full you’d felt him bulging in your stomach, so far inside you it even hurt you.
“I need to move, gotta let me move.” He locked eyes with you before you nodded, loosening your legs, letting him withdraw his hips, pulling right back away from you, tip nearly leaving the crevice of your wetness. Then he pushed back in, all the way, hips against hips and you fucking moaned. You moaned so loud he thought he hurt you, ready to withdraw and panic at that thought. But then you lifted your hips to meet his. You meet his next thrust and then the next, and the next. You don’t let him do a damn thing without your involvement. You needed to be in this together because what’s the fucking point if you can’t give each other your all?
“You’re so wet, soaking me.” You can only sigh, you’re not sorry, he got you so damn good he ought to be proud. “So damn hot. Gonna need to change the fucking sheets.” He rambled on. His hands dig delicious bite marks into your hips. Yours place a similar attack atop his shoulders. “Feel unreal.” You captured his lips in a needy kiss, chest pushing up as your back arched involuntarily. “Very real, so fucking real.” You muttered. As your back arched further, Eddie found a place within you, a sensitive spot he angled into unexpectedly. A place you’d only ever touched yourself. You shook, and you clenched down on him, hard.
He’d be an idiot not to notice it. You were clamping down so much he worried he’d lose circulation all together. “You want me dead don’t you?” He slammed his hips down into you. “Won’t be happy till I’m not fit for anyone else, that it?” His chest flattened against yours, his cock reaching that angle even more intrusively than before and you’re about to scream for it.
He’s got so much pressure leaning against it you’re about to crumble and he doesn’t even know it. “Eddie.” You panicked, hands snaking into his hair, tugging his brown ringlets. He couldn’t get any closer to you and yet you needed it, wanted him covering you. “Fuck, you’re, fuck are you cumming?“ He leaned his head back, looking down into your eyes, you have tears brimming in them and he can’t believe it, he was so right. “Please, please don’t stop.” Your voice came out so weak, soft, precious, and broken and he thought you sounded like a needy little princess when you begged for him like that. “Anything, anything for you.” He meant it too.
His hand wrapped around your throat loosely and tenderly as he coaxed your second orgasm from you. Your scream caught in your throat. He kissed you hard, breathing life erratically back into you. The way you tightened around his cock has his eyes roll back into his skull, his teeth biting down hard on your plump, cherry lips. He’s so close to cumming himself, but he will not let himself go until you’ve done it first. He had to make it through. He had to feel the way you came around his dick for the first time. Needed it imbedded in his brain as the religious experience it certainly felt like it would be.
“Eddie, Eddie,” you’re not even aware you’re yelling his name out there. You just do it. That’s what gets him in the end. Your pretty little voice wrapping around his name, securing the idea that he was in fact the guy who’d made you crumble into a mess in these sheets, twice. It was all him. “Where, fuck, where do you-“ he can’t even say it, can’t get the words out. “In me, need it in me, please baby.”
He did as you asked, his hips pulsing into you, cock sputtering, leaking his hot cum inside you. You felt it all. Deep inside, covering you, damning you. You were claimed from the inside out. There wasn’t a single piece of you that wasn’t marked as his now. If you hadn’t felt full before, you certainly did now. His cum filling you entirely, anything his cock couldn’t previously reach was now pressured by him cum flooding inside you and it was so unbelievably good. You sighed heavily at the thought of it. “So, fucking good.” You muttered. Him filling you was just so erotic to you. He’d felt exactly the same because of course he did, he was made for you. He loved that you’d let him take you like that. It felt heavenly pouring himself into you, coating you in his colours. Pulling out might just be the hardest thing he’d ever have to do.
His body covered yours. He’s no strength to hold himself above you, but no way of pulling away just yet. You’d not minded his weight at all. You’d actually enjoyed it, felt comforted by it. Even if your bodies were sweat soaked and desperately in need of another shower, it felt nothing but perfect lying here a little longer. Your fingers massaged into his scalp, he hummed at the relief of your touch. His breathing slowed down, softly blowing over your chest where his head lay comfortably.
You decided you loved the sound of him breathing. You can’t explain exactly why that is, but it offered you some kind of comforting stimulation that you think you’d listen to happily for hours. The mere existence of him, being enough to soothe you. “So that, uh-“ he licked his bottom lip, wetting the dryness there. “That happened.” You heart leaped and you know he felt it. “Don’t make it weird.” You nearly begged. “I’m not making it weird.” You poked his head. “You’re making it weird.” You accused, poking him again. “Would you stop?”
He lifted his head this time to avoid another attack. Well fuck. If he thought you looked beautiful before, it had nothing on the way you looked now. You were flustered and tired, your eyes wet with tears and probably sweat and yet, gorgeous. “You’re staring.” He hated you. “I can’t stop.” He’s lying. He could, he just never wanted to. “What will people think?” You gasped. “How will we tell them?” He continued, following your train of thought like he’d conjured it himself.
“Well, what do we actually have to tell? You know, to get our story straight.” He knew that was your not-so-subtle way of asking what you were, after all of this, but he doesn’t mind it because he’d also liked to know. As cliché as it was. It really did happen that fast. “Well,” he rubbed your cheek with the back of his hand, watching as your face leaned into his touch. “Your family think we’re in love so, that’s kind of handled.” You laughed. “That you’re way of confessing your love for me?” You dig with a smile. “No.” Yes. But it was way too soon to verbalise that. Sure, you’d known him for a while, but this weekend was the closest you’d ever been. And yeah, he may have felt it in his bones, but he wasn’t crazy enough to admit it to you. Jesus Christ. “So, it’s just, everyone else.” He nodded, then repeated after you. “Everyone else.” Easier said than done.
“What if I uh, slip you another 200?” He rolled his eyes. Only you would ask that. “Oh, because I haven’t whored myself out enough?” You grinned. “Well, if the shoe fits baby.” He nudged your nose with his own. “No but seriously, what would 200 get me?” You tried to deadpan but the smile refused to leave you. “I’m refunding it by the way.” You feigned shock. “My money not good enough for you Munson?” He looked at you with a ‘you really asking me that?’ look on his face. Though technically, you hadn’t actually given the money to him yet. “Only asked for it because I knew it’d piss you off sweetheart.” That hadn’t surprised you at all. “I dragged my ass to the bank for nothing.” He thought he might howl with laughter.
“You got cash out?” There he goes, those chubby fucking cheeks, the crinkling eyes. “You actually withdrew 200 bucks for me?” You wanted the bed to swallow you whole. “I DON’T EXACTLY HAVE YOUR BANK DETAILS EDWARD!” You yelled and he laughed harder, nearly rolling off you all together until he remembered he was still very much inside of you. “I’m so fucking dumb.” You face palmed with the embarrassment of it all. “You kinda are.” He agreed. He knew you’d hate his lack of support. “I like em dumb though.” He also knew he deserved the flick you gave him. “We’ll get you to the bank tomorrow, don’t you worry babe.” This time you didn’t flick him. “Not going anywhere tomorrow.” You sighed, arms wrapping around him. His stomach fluttered when you held him like that. “Why, what you got planned?“ He nuzzled his face happily into your breast, his spare hand squishing the other nicely. “Gonna get my fucking money’s worth that’s what.”
#eddie munson smut#eddie munson#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fanfic#stranger things smut
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ITS NEVER OVER |||
+ (WHERE HAVE YOU GONE)
word count: 1.7?
Paul atreides x Reader (Always safe for POC + PLUS SIZE) Paul POV!!!
warnings: signs of depression? were happy in there tho, proof read? yeah something like that (god i am not good at these😭) y/n is not in this chapter but ofc shes mentioned entirely throughout the text.
A/N: AHHHHHH THE FINAL CHAPTER BEFORE THE FINALE, IM EXCITED TO POSTTTT, i hope you guys enjoyed and i love the feedback i recieved! i love you all, have a good day/night, whenever you get this! (Also, considering that this is from pauls POV i thought that i might add an extra title)
Hey! Have you read the first chapters? You didnt? What! Read it here!! I . II . III . IV.
Hmm? You said you like shii’z writing?! Omg me too! Check out her masterlist!
He let out a heavy breath before he ripped his mask off of his face. He wasn't supposed to be out alone considering he was the new crowned emperor. But he was, and he was searching for you and he wasn't gonna give up until he did. He wore heavy clothing to try and hide his identity from others, and a bag that slung around his shoulder consisting of his journal, water, and other things he might need. He settles for the night in a rock. A rock with a beautiful view. He has been on the road for so long, he's forgotten how long, he didn't really care to remember either, considering it would help motivate to find you. He walks around the rock, searching for anything to give him clues of you or if you might've been here.
As he looked around, It was clear that someone had been there before. He looked at the bad attempt of making a bed, but he didn't touch it. His eyes slightly closed from trying to study the bed, there were still prints of a body, maybe two, on the bed. He hunches over. There was a piece of hair, as disgusting as it sounds…he picked it up. It was the same as yours, he took a rather long pause before thinking, maybe he should smell the bed? No, what if he smells something he doesn't like. He shook his head before looking at the single strand of hair that was in his hand. He sat down on the bed, setting the hair gently aside before taking off his glove and putting the strand back in his palm. Everybody's hair could be similar, he thought. He let out a sigh before looking ahead of him. He didn't know what time it was, but all he knew was that he was tired and heart broken. He didn't miss his home, not at all, not with you not there.
He put his glove and his mask back on before placing the hair into his bag. Out of everything that was going on, at least the view was beautiful. He stood and walked to the view of the rock, carelessly taking footsteps before he sighed and dropped down, his legs open and his elbows on his knees as he took in the view. He let in a deep breath. ¨tired. I am tired¨ he let out in a whisper. He fought his sleep often because he knew it would make him less confident and he would grow to slack, but sometimes he just couldn't take it anymore. The yawns leaving his lips, difficulty holding onto the hooks that latched onto the sandworm, but he thought he could finally settle here for a while, as a reward for finding a piece of hair that have a 5 percent chance of being yours.
As he watched the view, he thought of you. He didn't cry as much anymore. When he cried, he cried alone in private. And during that time, he cried until he couldn't anymore. Every time he saw Irulan it made him sick to his stomach. As much as he wanted to blame her, he couldn't. His heart was too good and he knew better than to let a weak desperate moment turn into anger. ¨why did i offer?¨ he would think over and over, countless times, wondering how could he be so careless. But he wasn't, he didn't want to marry her for the reason of love, just wanted to keep her safe as a promise to the retired and overthrown emperor. Thinking about it made him question his character, who has he grown to be? hed remembered what you said, he always thought of the smart and wise things you had to say.
¨its okay to feel how you feel, paul¨ you looked at him with a pity smile on your face while your hand was on his cheek. He had another nightmare. He didn't want it to be true. ¨this is gonna make me go crazy, y/n¨ paul whispered back, leaning into y/ns touch. ¨don't let it fool you, don't let it phase you, don't let it change you¨ you replied. At times, all paul wanted to do was give up. He didnt wanna be the chosen one. It was all too much. He could stay here forever, with you. For all eternity if he could.
Paul sighs and looks to the side. Remembering what you said, he wished things weren't so quiet.he laughed to himself, all the dreams he had of the future, but none of you. He sat alone, all alone, not one book, not one sound, just him, by himself. He felt empty, he wants you, he needs you, he needed someone to make him feel complete again, but days spread thick and long, bored, fighting himself back and forth between hope for finding you and wondering if you had just moved on. He wished he had a dream of you, of your blue eyes glistening in the sun, of your laugh, He wished it was so vivid that he touched you, that he could control his dream and talk to you, make love to you, but he had nothing, nothing at all. Nothing to remember you by, just a stupid suspicious piece of hair, tears brimmed his eyes, he needs you. There was no one he could pray to if he was the chosen one. No matter how hard he fought, how he tried to distract himself from work, it all lead up to one person, not one other thought, never out of sight out of mind, he knew what he wanted and he fell so deep he felt like he just couldn't grasp it anymore, how was he supposed to live his life without you. Your soft gentle hands grazing his face and answering the stupid and goofy questions he asked. There was no one else and he knew that now, didn't even find anyone else attractive. Lonesome nights, he didn't want to be on his own, ever again. Once he found you he vowed to never let you go, no matter how loud your voice is, no matter if you kicked him down, your in his heart and he just cannot let go, but how long could he search? Huh? How long would it be until he found you? When will he hear your voice again? When will he kiss you again? He didn't even say I love you before you walked off, for all he knew, that was his last goodbye.
On the first day, he acted as if nothing happened, but then he realized you weren't there, he couldn't pick at your dinner plate, he could hear your laughs, he couldn't feel your pity hits after he whispers a dirty joke. He had no one to talk to, no one to ask him if he was okay. Was he...okay? Had he known he was okay? Or has he grown so long to the point where he wasnt and he just didn't know it. He wished he said more, begged you to stay, cried about it, weeped about it, there was so much he could've done and he didn't, he only said a short explanation of how he was waiting for you and now he's on the run, on the search. He was so tired, so tired of looking at the same spice on the ground, carving on the rock of the walls. He wanted to be next to you, holding your head in his shoulder, hear your soft snores as you slept like there wasn't a care in the world. He'd never expect this, a life without you. He sighed and shook the thought out of his head, noticing he was in too deep and he wiped the tears that slowly dropped from his face, letting out a sniffle as he looked ahead. He didn't want to be too deep, of course he missed you, but he wanted to find you with a clear conscience, a healthy mind. He needed something to keep him going. His eyebrows furrowed as he looked to the ground. He placed a palm down and leaned closer to the floor. What is this? This imprint on the floor? Looks familiar.
He looked over it, careful not to move or make any sudden movements. ¨y/n?¨ he muttered. Any normal person would've thought paul as crazy, looking like he's searching for spice on the floor, and then wanting to jump and cheer, because, well, because what?
The necklace
The necklace Paul got for her. It was there! Clear as day. What a time to cheer! He couldn't fight off the smile on his lips. She's alive! She's alive! What a joy, out for two years! Been all around Arrakis, and at such a time he was going to give up, go home, force himself to get comfortable with his new situation, you were out there. Shall he go home? To tell stilgar and have a celebration? Sweet red wine sounded like heaven. He wiped his eyes as finally, finally tears came down. Tears of joy, he waited for this moment, oh so long! He was so happy he could take the dirt and put it in his bag also.
He laughed, he found it funny how he grew so tired of being next to his queen that he went and found you himself after he told you to come back. He grew impatient. He took out his journal and wrote, writing his life away as he thought of you, as the warmness of love and hope crowded his vision and spreaded throughout his body. This is all he wanted, to find you. And he was so close, so, so close.
He hadn't felt like this in a long time. He got up and collected the dirt from the necklace in his hand and watched it fall from his gloves. Looking around and seeing the footsteps, all yours he believed! He looked before following the footsteps, he followed them foot by foot until he was in the sand again. He hunched over, trying to search for the footsteps as they were getting lost from the wind of the sand until he couldn't anymore. He stood and pulled out his compass for the direction that you went. When it pointed he saw and lifted his head in the direction you went. This was it, this was the final piece, this was the end.
You were home.
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@ennycutie @cookiezxx
#dune part 2#paul atredies x black!reader#paul atredies x reader#paul atreides#timothee chalamet x reader#timothee chamalet x black!reader#timothee x you#paul atreides x reader#timothee chalamet smut#paul atredies smut
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comfort w tim please? (i just want some fluff dkjshekdb 😂)
Well, this excerpt isn't Tim comfort, but hopefully counts for Tim fluff?
Context: pre-identity reveal/identity porn/idiots to lovers TimKon.
"Sounds like supervillain talk, dude," Kon says. Tim resolves to dial back on that at this point in his career. He's laying groundwork, yes, but subtlety is still the wiser course of action.
"You say that like you've never socialized with a supervillain before," he says dryly.
"Well, usually ones who wear a bit less," Kon replies, grinning wickedly at him.
"So you're telling me I should invest in a crop top before I try to take over the world and remake it in my own image?" Tim asks still more dryly as he raises an eyebrow at him with a little smirk, and Kon laughs and steps in a little closer, giving him a not very subtle up-and-down with his eyes.
"Only if you're trying to recruit me for your evil plans," he says, grin turning sharp. Tim wants to lick his teeth. "So I dunno, what are your feelings on Daisy Dukes?"
"I'm going to be honest, I'm not actually that much of an exhibitionist so at this point we're just describing my ideal costume updates for you," Tim informs him.
"Oh yeah?" Kon asks with another laugh even as he visibly preens at the suggestion. Tim is all for that, personally. Both the preening and the theoretical updates, in fact. And, a little more weirdly, just the idea of having anything to do with what Kon might ever decide to wear.
Yeah, that's probably a later thought, Tim decides. Like, a private-time kind of later thought.
"You're solar-powered, aren't you?" he says reasonably. "Showing a bit more skin can't hurt."
"I wonder if Superman would buy that excuse," Kon says musingly.
"Power Girl exists," Tim says still more reasonably. "And Supergirl wears a miniskirt, last I checked."
"Valid," Kon says, putting on a mock-thoughtful expression and tapping the side of his jaw. "Maybe I'll put in some cutouts and go for a lower neckline, tell the big guy he's making the rest of us look like prudes. What do you think, bikini or high-cut bottoms?"
"I don't know the difference," Tim lies, desperately trying not to overheat and die at that question and every single accompanying mental image that his useless brain has so helpfully decided to supply. "You'll have to provide examples."
"Will I now," Kon says, grinning all over again and pointedly cocking a hip. "What, pretty boy, you want a fashion show?"
"Well I did want to be a photographer when I was a kid," Tim says, although it was definitely never that kind of photography he had in mind. Kon laughs again and shifts in even closer, though, so it's worth it. Tim is mortified, but also undeniably into just . . . all of this, really, just everything about this conversation. Robin can't flirt with Superboy, but, well . . .
He's taking advantage a little, he can admit, but it's still just . . . nice.
He's wanted to flirt with Kon for way too long, at this point. Indulging in a little bit of it isn't the worst thing he could do.
And again, it's Kon, so it's not like it's serious or anything. The guy won't even remember this conversation tomorrow, much less anything about Tim Drake.
. . . admittedly that'd be counterproductive to Tim's long-term goals here, but still. He's willing to take his time on this. There's a plan. It has steps. Layers. Processes.
"I like you, man," Kon says with a wider grin, which is in absolutely no way whatsoever in the plan. "You're funny."
It occurs to Tim, almost disbelievingly, that he might've . . . made a good impression on Kon? Somehow?
Well that's weird.
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"Would you care to be my lover?"
In which, Giyuu almost dies and is afraid to rest without knowing whether or not you would still love him if he passed away. He doesn't want you to forget him and he wants you to know that he loves you more than he thought he ever could.
Giyu didn't think that he was afraid to die
He never had been.
After all, it was just the natural order of things to die was it not?
So what was the point in trying to avoid it?
At least that's what he had kept telling himself. But ever since he met you... It's been rather difficult to understand anything in a reasonable light.
He also fell for you the moment that he set his eyes on you. Of course he didn't know that, but he found out later.
You were a Hashira and you kept yourself so undetected that barely anyone even knew you.
When he first noticed you, his intention weren't to be rude when he had asked who you were.
For some reason, he was desperate to know who you were, like it was something he needed.
He only received a small smile and later he realized that you had been a hashira for almost ten years.
You had been a hashira before he was even a demon slayer.
Apparently you didn't mind that he didn't know, or that he was the only Hashira to know you were alive at the moment.
Apparently this had happened multiple times where you would be in a room with everyone else and listen in without actually conversing or interacting with the others.
Apparently you literally stood next to him every single meeting with the master and he hadn't even noticed once.
But how? You were always there so how come he didn't feel any sort of familiarity around you?
He felt almost guilty, he didn't know what to do.
And yet here he was, watching as you sat down under a tree at your estate. You were just closing your eyes in quiet, nostalgic peace. He was still so confused and intrigued at the same time.
He had even asked the other Hashira and demon slayers, trying to figure more about you only get answers of 'who are you talking about?' Or 'I don't know'.
Shinobu of course had to make fun of him for such pretending, after all, it didn't seem like you were even a real person.
So no one believed that there was another Hashira, and Giyu didn't bother anyone about it.
Except for the master.
The master knew who you were, thank goodness, it made Giyu feel less stupid. He seemed happy about hearing your name come from a hashira and he seemed proud of Giyu for noticing in the first place.
You were a very quiet and reserved person, yet your fighting style involved words.
Basically, your breathing technique helped you tap into frequency, which in turn, gave you the power to control frequency and what people heard.
So technically, you had been staying undetected on purpose, using the breathing style to control the frequency your own body gave off.
Although, you must have slipped up when Giyuu actually noticed you, you wonder how that happened.
Giyu's still baffled about your existence and has no idea what to do about it.
"Try and get close to her, she is a stoic and indifferent person like you. However, she has no one to talk to besides me and she doesn't like to burden people. She denies it but she needs to find a companion and you happen to be the first hashira to notice her."
Those were the words of his master, Kagaya Ubuyashiki. But the question was, how was he supposed to be around you if you were like him?
Even he knew how hard it was to be around himself so how much harder would it be to be around you, especially if you didn't want anyone around you to begin with?
It's not like that was going to stop him though. Whether the master had told him to talk to you didn't matter because he would have done it anyway.
"Hello..." Giyu greeted you, feeling uneasy as he approached you. All he did in that moment was stand in front of you like a lost dog.
You were pretty sure that he would have forgotten you in due time but instead he had decided to talk to you again. It was cute.
Maybe you could afford to indulge him.
"Hi." You plainly replied, watching as Giyu decided to sit next to you under the tree. Giyu seemed nervous, like he didn't want to make a bad impression but at the same time he looked like he would smack you if you insulted him.
What a strange look to such a young man.
"So... How was your day?" He asks, looking ahead of him and trying to control his breathing. He didn't like how strange he felt, but he wasn't sure if it was from your breathing technique or from him being so nervous.
"My day was fine... How about yours?"
"Good... My day was good." Giyu continues, not really sure what else to say. This was a good way to start a conversation right?
"Good, that's nice."
"Yes... Well... Your hair looks nice." He's being very gentlemanly he thinks, that is a good thing when talking to women right?
"... Thank you..."
"You're welcome."
Damn, you weren't making this easy for him. You felt like such a kind and gentle person and he didn't understand why you wouldn't want to be seen.
Then again, people had their choices and he respected that, however he wanted to get to know you without feeling like he was being so pushy.
"Why are you like this?" Giyu questions, finally looking at you with a straight face only to receive a confused glare from you.
"Pardon?"
Crap, he didn't mean to offend you.
"Sorry... I just mean... Well... Why do you hide yourself from everyone else?"
"... Oh." Was all you said, not answering his question for some time before looking up at the sky.
"I don't like to cry."
Now you just confused him even more than before.
"... Cry? What do you mean?" He asks, keeping his gaze on your face. You look very pretty to him and he wonders how he hadn't seen you before even with your breathing technique.
"I don't want to get too close to people and have them die because I wasn't strong enough." You start, making eye contact with him in hopes he would understand.
"I don't want anyone to have to cry when I die either. Death only brings pain and familiarity only breeds contempt. So I guess you can say that I am running from reality."
"So you would rather have someone not know you existed so that they don't cry about your death?" Giyu asks, feeling less confused but more sad. He had thought about stuff like this very little but clearly you thought about it all the time.
"Yes, I don't like to cry."
For quite some time, the two of you stay quiet, just sitting under the tree and enjoying the silence. Of course you were enjoying the silence, Giyu thought you were crazy.
As much as Giyu had taken a liking to you in such a short amount of time, Giyu couldn't decide whether or not to label you as a psychopath, depressed or a high functioning sociopath.
You were willing to disappear for yourself and others as if you weren't alive. And yet, he didn't understand why you would avoid the inevitable.
"Do you not have anyone?"
"I have our master..." You comment, smiling at the thought of Kagaya since he was someone who had allowed you to be where you were today. He was like a father to you.
"Anyone else?"
"... No."
Giyu stayed quiet again, thinking of something before sighing and standing up.
"Let me then."
"... What?" You ask, confused at what he said.
"Let me be that other person."
You watch him as he stands his ground, clearly serious about what he said. He wants to be around you, to make sure you're okay and he could care less whether it was selfless or selfish of him to ask.
"Why? You don't know me."
"I want to know you... Here."
Giyu pulls out a few questionable things from his mismatched haori, he seemed to be looking for something specific and it was making you slightly nervous since he shouldn't really be carrying a bunch of... Rope. Why did he have that much rope?
Finally he pulls out a small ribbon and starts tying it around his wrist, why? You have no damn clue.
"Whenever you enter a room that I'm in, you should pull on this, that way I know you're there." He starts, grabbing his other items including the rope and placing them back in his haori.
"Why?" You ask, scratching the back of your head in slight annoyance. You didn't want him to try so hard, otherwise he wouldn't forget about you.
"Because I want to know when you're around me so I can be your acquaintance."
"You don't have to worry, I don't feel lonely or anything like that."
"That's fine, I just want to know when you're there."
"But-"
"I insist... I will not try to fix you nor will I make you cry, but I would like to at least be a companion for you to talk to."
For some reason his words made you feel warm, like he meant them. You didn't know why he wanted that, but it was sweet and scary at the same time.
You weren't sure if you liked it or not but as far as you were concerned, this was something that you shouldn't allow.
After all, he might die and then you might end up crying.
Or the other way around... You don't want him to cry because of you.
Then again.
Maybe you could afford to indulge him a little bit longer.
What's the harm in that when he would eventually forget you anyway?
"Okay."
"Alright then."
This went on for months, you pulling on that stupid ribbon like he asked you to so that he would know you were there.
The two of you have now become acquainted and maybe even close to friends. However you don't know what to do with yourself.
You taught him things about you, your breathing technique and the way you fought while Giyu taught you about his own and even a bit of his past.
You felt stupid and you didn't like the unfamiliar feeling of getting so close to someone like you have with Giyu. You didn't like the feeling you had when you thought about him.
You didn't like it...
You hated it...
You hated it so much...
But you liked it at the same time...
Oh, how you loved it, but that's what scared you the most.
Because if you loved it, that would mean that you loved him.
He was supposed to forget you but he didn't, you just ended up coming on his mind more often.
Eventually you got used to it and even felt more comfortable about it. Eventually he didn't even need you to pull the ribbon for him to know you were in the room.
But he still wore the tiny, red cloth. A stupid ribbon that made your heart flutter every time you saw it.
It seemed like he could faintly feel the change when you were around.
You still didn't like it and yet you felt very special to have someone like Giyu care enough about wanting to know you.
Why couldn't you make up your damn mind?
Not only that, if you think you're the one having a hard time with this, take an actual look at Giyu for once in your life.
He's always gentle around you and yet his hands get all sweaty and he clams up. He doesn't remember feeling this way around you before, he just remembers being nervous, not sweaty and lightheaded. He doesn't remember getting vivid fascinations of you in his mind.
He can't tell if it's the feeling of just doing a drug or of absolute distress. He likes being around you but he's so nervous at the same time. He can't help but act differently around you than the other Hashira. He wanted to desperately kiss you and he had never wanted to kiss anyone else before.
It was almost as if he had a crush on you but there was no way to determine that. Even with all the scrolls he read on the topic in hopes to explain what he was feeling.
He didn't like this feeling of his chest tightening and his face brightening up. Most of the Hashira could even see the change in Giyu, how he looked more happy, even with his neutral face.
What made it worse was the thoughts he had about you. His frantic fantasies about you being closer to him, being with him in ways he wouldn't utter. He prayed that this was just love and not lust but he couldn't tell.
He had even tried to talk to Kagaya about it, but he had just dismissed him with a laugh, saying that he would get used to it over time and that it was an experience to try and keep.
And Giyu had to make it worse by being bold one day and kissing your cheek after you had come back from the Swordsmith village.
That was a fun and welcoming surprise for you which only clarified how you felt about him. Unfortunately it made Giyu want to hide in a corner for the rest of his life right after.
This is why no one likes him he's sure, he's weird and thinks things that he shouldn't about other women. Then again, he's never thought about it with another woman besides you.
Everyone was sure that he was a lonely weirdo that wouldn't find anyone. Maybe he would.
Mitsuri, Rengoku and Uzui are sure he is in love even though they didn't know who it was. Sanemi and Obanai just think he's high, either way he likes it.
He likes it...
He's sure he likes it...
He likes it so much.... Maybe too much
But he doesn't at the same time...
He loves it, but that's what scares him...
It scares him because that would mean that he has fallen for you.
He has fallen for you hard.
He loves you.
The two of you fell in love too fast and now you might as well start courting.
I mean, what else are you going to do?
The real problem was the fact that you didn't want to be emotional and Giyu didn't want to cause you pain if anything were to happen.
Yet he couldn't help himself when he wanted to be around you. It made him feel alive and he wasn't sure what to do.
So that's how he finds himself almost a year later.
He's in fear of his life because he almost died on a mission and the impending love he had for you about to explode his heart wasn't helping either.
All he knew is that he had to get to you, he had to tell you everything. Whether or not he ruined the relationship or was healed yet.
He fought against the Kakushi to get out of the butterfly mansion, not caring if he would hurt himself more.
Aoi tried to stop him and he wasn't trying to be rude, he was just a man on a mission and the fact of the matter is that he could care less.
He even scared Shinobu when she watched him walk out of the mansion. She tried to tell him to rest but if she was being honest, there was no real point in trying when he was moving so fast.
When Giyu finally found you standing outside and looking at the red, cloud-filled sunset, he tried to give a small smile but even that couldn't mask the weariness that showed on his face.
Despite how tired he was, he wanted to see you first, before even allowing himself to rest. He wouldn't rest, not yet.
It seemed that his feelings for you were so strong that even the exhaustion and pain he had just experienced wouldn't stand in the way of confirming something that he desperately needed to know.
"Giyu? Aren't you supposed to be healing at the butterfly mansion?" You ask in surprise as you watch him walk towards him. You were nervous cause here he was, trying to walk around in your house like a normal person.
Not that Giyu wasn't strong because he was and you loved seeing him when he was around, but he needed his rest and he deserved it.
You had listened into a conversation that Gyomei was having with Mitsuri. He was saying that Giyu was going to be taken to the butterfly mansion for healing even though he could still stand and walk around when the clean up crew found him.
Giyu was taken back by your concern, but he quickly hid it behind his usual calm demeanor. It seemed out of character for him to show any kind of vulnerability. Not that he wasn't going to show it eventually.
"I was at the butterfly mansion for healing, but I wanted to see you first, and check on you." His voice was slightly hoarse from the amount of screaming he probably did on his mission.
"How have you been? Are you doing alright?" Giyu inquired, hoping to see some sign of affection from you.
"I'm fine, thank you." You responded with a small smile, flattered that he wanted to check on you to make sure that you were okay. The funny thing was the fact that he was the one that almost died.
"You shouldn't be walking around like this when you're injured." You continued, standing still for a moment before looking at his hand.
Hesitantly, you softly grab a hold of his hand and meticulously massaging his palm. Your thought was that would make him feel better.
As far as he was concerned, all the heat in his body went straight to his... Cock?
Lord have mercy. No way in hell was Giyu going to even allow that to interfere with anything, at least not yet.
Giyu didn't expect you to be so gentle with him, yet he welcomed the gesture. He always kept others at arm's length, but with you, he couldn't help but find himself comfortable enough with your touched.
That’s probably why he suddenly got all hard.
He smiled at your concern, not yet accepting that he could be this vulnerable and dependent.
"I'm okay, it's really nothing." Giyu said, trying to downplay the seriousness of his mission.
"I'm just glad you're alright." He whispered softly.
You nodded your head, not looking at him and keeping your gaze focused on his hand. You knew that he was lying and not only was he injured, he was so stressed out that you could feel it in his hands and arms.
"You must be tired." Was all you said as you started to massage his fingers and then slowly up his arm. You felt bad for him since he looked so tired and the fact that he wanted to see you in this state was almost romantic. It was definitely cute.
Giyu's pride wouldn't allow him to accept any help, but he also knew that deep down he needed your comfort and reassurance. As you continued to massage his hands and arm, he found himself wanting to return the gesture.
When he finally looked at you, he found it hard to speak. The expression on your face made him feel butterflies in his stomach. In that moment, he could only think of how lucky he was to know such a lovely woman. As he looked up at you, he gently pulled you closer.
He's so glad that you slipped up on your breathing technique, otherwise he still wouldn't know you.
"I don't feel so tired anymore." He whispered, clearly knowing what to do even though he had no clue what to do. This must have all been from instinct because he had no experience in this.
"No?" You ask him, allowing him to pull you closer to him. Whether it was an attempt for a hug or something more you didn't know but you felt comfortable. Although you had a feeling he was trying to initiate something.
"Why aren't you tired anymore?" You continue, being just as gentle with his other hand as you were with the last one you massaged.
Giyu pulled you even closer, his face just inches away from yours. A small but tired smile spread across his lips as he began to answer your question.
"Because you're here, and I want to stop beating around the bush."
He looked into your eyes with an intensity that seemed almost animalistic. He wanted to show you how special you were to him, and what better way than to express it physically.
He was going to love on you... Not like that though, he was just going to kiss you until you yell at him to stop.
At least, in his mind it seemed like a good idea, although it may have just been from your physical touch but he was absolutely sure he loved you.
"... Well have you eaten anything recently?" You ask as he slowly buried his head in the crook of your neck.
You felt flattered, you felt more than flattered. You and Giyu both had been courting in a way and it was quite obvious that the two of you liked each other. Even so, you didn't really know what else to do.
Giyu nuzzled your neck before answering you, his words mixed with soft chuckles of affection.
"No, I haven't had anything to eat yet." He admitted.
"You should eat."
"I'll eat later, it can wait."
You both had been so busy with Hashira work and beating around the bush that romance had been pushed to the side. Now that the two of you had time, it was time that you both dealt with your feelings. He wasn't going to let you go without at least talking to you about how he felt.
"I was worried I wouldn't make it back... I was... I was so scared" Giyu confessed, his head still resting on your shoulder. "But I... I very much like you, I think... That I love you. So I wanted to come back to tell you that."
"... You... Do you really love me?" You ask, wanting to hear him say it again. Maybe you should have paid more attention to your mother when she said that you'll experience a love like this.
"Yes... I believe I love you more than anything, and I was scared of leaving without you knowing that. I don't know why, but I thought of you and I was so scared... I didn't know what to do, I know I love you."
"... Thank you." You respond, placing your hand on top of his head as Giyu kisses your cheek. He had kissed you once but hadn't given you a kiss since then.
"I missed you, I was hoping that you would be okay so that I could see you again." You comment with a small but warm smile. Even though you could be naive sometimes, clearly he was confessing to you. "I... I love you too... Maybe I should have said that sooner."
As the moment became more intimate, Giyu knew that he couldn't handle not kissing you anymore.
Looking up at you with eyes that were full of affection and adoration, he moved his face up to touch yours. Your lips made contact with each other as Giyu's hand moved behind your head, his thumb slowly caressing you.
He was sure that he loved you, it couldn't be just lust because if it was, he wouldn't have thought about you when he almost encountered his death bed.
"Thank you for always being there for me." Giyu whispered as he lost himself in a moment that he had never felt before.
Giyu was feeling dumb, filled with color and emotion while you happened to be hyper aware. Maybe this was a good thing, a small amount of love could go a long way in a short amount of time.
"You're welcome." You mumbled, letting Giyu kiss your forehead before giving you a small kiss on your nose.
Heck, he could marry you right now and he wouldn't mind. In fact, he would love that.
You leaned in, kissing him and not knowing where to put your hands before finally deciding to let them hold onto Giyu's haori
Giyu had no time to feel lightheaded and embarrassed, he wasn't prepared but he wasn't going to hold off.
He loved you, and he knew that. He also knew that you must have loved him if you had kissed him back. The two of you weren't acquaintances or friends anymore.
He would be so happy if you would care to be his lover and maybe in the future, his wife.
...
"We'll be prepared, I'm sure since-" Tanjiro quickly stopped, looking at the sight of Giyu and a woman he did not recognize.
It was very cute and Tanjiro couldn't help but smile at the lovingness that Giyu seemed to show the female.
Tanjiro would have left to give the couple privacy if he hadn't been walking with both Muichiro and Genya.
"Who is that?" Muichiro asks, gazing at the woman while trying his absolute best not to smile at the romantic sight.
"Whatever, let's just go!" Genya yells, clearly embarrassed by the whole thing.
"Shh! Don't yell Genya!"
"It seems like a beautiful demon slayer has caught the attention of a Water Hashira." Muichiro starts, pretending to be the invisible narrator in some unknown story while being way too flamboyant.
"Seriously?"
"Oh c'mon Genya, have some fun."
"Let's give the two some privacy." Tanjiro comments, chuckling as the three of them walk off.
Tanjiro and the rest were apparently wrong. It seemed like Giyu wouldn't be alone for the rest of his life, and Tanjiro was happy for him.
#giyuu tomioka#demon slayer giyuu#kny giyuu#giyu tomioka#slow burn#love#marriage#character x reader#character x you#i hope you enjoy#water hashira#demon slayer#kny#kimetsu no yaiba#giyuu x reader#kimetsu giyuu#oneshot#i love him#possible spoilers#possible smut#very long post#female#female reader#smut#demon slayer smut#giyuu smut#clickbait
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I have finished Mysterious Lotus Casebook, and here are some of my thoughts! (Obviously not spoiler free)
The cases are absolutely batshit insane and I loved it every single time they were like 'we totally collected this evidence that incriminates a secret suspect, just believe us and also don't question when the fuck we had the time to do this or when we figured out that we needed to look for it'. 10/10 no notes, that's a hilarious way to have a genius detective. Show us nothing, tell us everything, YES king.
That being said, I could have done with a lot less standing around having the supporting cast repeat whatever Li Lianhua and Fang Duobing announce, maybe in an attempt to make sure their genius is clear for the audience? I get it, but at the same time it felt a little too hand-holdy for me, especially in scenes where LLH and FDB had already discussed their findings between themselves before presenting them to the concerned bystanders. I can read between the lines (or else understand what has just been explicitly stated) without having every conclusion filtered through a slightly different sentence structure to make sure I got it.
Di Feisheng amnesia arc my fuckin beloved
Di Feisheng destroying his 'father' and freeing everyone in Di manor in a vicious act of catharsis that tied nicely into the main Nanyin bug-mind-control-thing narrative my beloved
Di Feisheng my beloved
The amount of times I was like...genuinely surprised he and Li Lianhua didn't kiss is both embarrassing (because I do in fact understand censorship and what I sign up for with these dramas and yet and yet) and numerous enough that I could...possibly...theoretically..write a 5+1 fic of every time I want them to kiss about it. No one hold me to that but it's something I think I'd like to do.
Re: the above point: because what the FUCK was that ending?!!! EXCUSE ME?! I gotta FIX THAT SHIT.
There will come a day when the strength of my hope for an unambiguously happy ending in a queer(-coded? is the source originally bl or is this its own thing?) wuxia drama is rewarded....but it is not this day. I must fix this myself.
Jiao Liqiao's laugh is one of the most annoying things I've ever heard. I was reaaaaally hoping someone would just up and stab her during one of her little evil laughing fits. At one point I was shouting "KILL HER, KILL HER" at my screen because I could NOT take anymore of her (unfortunately, I did in fact have to take more of her).
I still think her insistence on being obsessed with DFS is hysterical when he is so VISIBLY only interested in LLH. Explicitly STATES that his only life purpose is to fuck fight LLH again. Babygirl (derogatory) he is so fucking gay let's get you a nice knife to the gut instead, okay?
I thought the whole Shan Gudao plot was interesting, going from looking desperately for his body -> putting him to rest -> hunting for his murderer -> finding out he's alive/the mastermind behind everything going wrong (which I was proud of myself for realizing before the reveal, I'm normally bad at that) -> thwarting him with sass and superior martial arts at every possible turn -> killing him stone fuckin dead with beginner level skills because he's so up his own hole he can't see that's what's happening - was really fun!
He also has a SUPER annoying laugh he can fuck off
OH OH OH MARTIAL ARTS SKILL OF TRANS YOUR GENDER?! I MARRIED HER SO HER AFFAIRS ARE MY BUSINESS NOT YOURS??? ASKING YOUR WIFE FOR HER FORGIVENESS AND UNDERSTANDING AS YOU LAY DYING AND SHE GIVES IT TO YOU?????? OKAYYYYYYY
The twist at the end that LLH is the one with royal blood was so funny to me. Like it's a good twist and I love that Shan Gudao was just quite literally always a fuckin try-hard loser in ways he didn't even know, but also it was SO funny. Granny coming in clutch at the last fuckin minute with secret knowledge she just literally never shared.
LLH is such a smooth motherfucker. Shame about his insistence on dying when quite literally everyone (bar the people who suck) is begging this man to just live. Just LIVE DAMN IT!!!!! I really liked it when FDB begs him to just consider his own life as important for ONCE and remember that people care about him because YES his self-sacrificing and committment to Chilling Out Farmer Style was not the mercy he thought it was!
LIVE AND GROW OLD WITH DI FEISHENG YOU DAMN IDIOT (the likelihood of me resisting the urge to write at least the one fic for them is zero to none)
Unironically love spitting up blood as a plot device and this show is no different. The Drama. The Panache. The desperation of everyone around you because you have BLOOD coming out of your MOUTH and you are FAINTING. Poison acting up? Spit blood. Someone bitch slap you with their magical palm ability? Spit blood. Get stressed? Spit blood. Get stabbed? Spit blood. It's always good!
Okay I think that might be all I've got for now, if I think of anything else I'll add them in a reblog. I thoroughly enjoyed it, would definitely recommend!
#mysterious lotus casebook#my thoughts#for whatever they're worth#it was nice too because unlike say Word of Honor I didn't mind the overarching plot about the jianghu#and the magical cures/objects that everyone is racing/fighting each other to get to first#WOH was just plain boring outside of the interpersonal relationships in my opinion#but in this there were only a few times I really just did not care about the latest fetch quest and wanted to get back to the relationships
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I’m curious have Els and Michael ever done GQs couple quiz? I was just watching them, and I got to wondering about them. Lol 😂, cause Travis and Kylie’s was an absolute mess, but I loved Teyana Taylor and Iman and of course Nip & LL.
I loveeeeeee GQ's couple's quizzes, they are hilarious. They 100% have done it! And here's my attempt cause in my mind, they give a more relatable and fun Ciara and Russell (if you saw their's?) LOL Thanks, Anon!
***
“Hey this is Michael B. Jordan.”
“And Charlotte Elsbeth Jordan, and we are playing GQ’s Couple Quiz.”
“You ready?” He asked, his hand resting on her thigh.
“Born ready, I’ll start.” Charlotte lifted up the questions to make sure he couldn’t see them. Little did GQ know, they had a wager going on who knew the other the best and Charlotte was not about to lose. “Ok, this is a soft ball starter, when’s my birthday and what’s my sign?”
Michael rolled his eyes, “May 4, which makes you a…” he paused. Charlotte knew he had to think about that one because Michael could care less about Zodiac signs and astrology. “I’m 95% sure that’s a Taurus so I’m gonna go with my gut on that one.”
“Yea, I’m a Taurus… a textbook one too.”
“I don’t know what that means, Els.”
“I’ll explain it to you later. Aight, that’s two points for you cause that was two questions. Oh this’s a good one. What’s my dream travel destination?”
“The Maldives.” He answered quickly.
“Yep. You know I’m waiting for you to plan that right?” She asked with the sweetest smile that made Michael want to abandon the interview and take her there right then. “I kinda thought that would be our baby moon but no such luck.”
Michael chuckled and shook his head. “You know I thought about it?”
Charlotte's jaw dropped. “So where's my proper baby moon at?? Because I haven't to sink a single toe in the sand of the Maldives." Her tone was one of playful confusion. "Wait til he tells y'all where he took me to instead of the Maldives??"
Michael bowed his head as his shoulders shook with laughter. "It's gonna sound bad in comparison BUT I didn't think it was safe to go that far and her doc didn't agree. So we went to a gorgeous resort in Cabo." He raised his hands in surrender. "You already had my nerves shot for those 9 months, wasn't gonna add to that."
She let out a cackling laugh. “I had your nerves shot and you were getting on mine so glad we didn’t add that stress to it. Cabo was a lot of fun though.”
“Yea it was. Babymoon #2, Maldives - I promise."
Little did she know, Michael already had it planned for her upcoming birthday.
"Well that means I'm never going, I guess," she mumbled. Michael had routinely been talking her ear off about having another baby, as if two rambunctious twin boys were not more than enough for them. But he desperately wanted a baby girl.
"That's a conversation for later but But don’t worry, Maldives are comin’. I promise.” Charlotte did a little happy dance in her seat. “Aight, next question.”
“What’s a hobby of mine that most people wouldn’t know?”
“You love to bake. And my training regime hates it,” he joked.
“Yes! I would’ve also taken crocheting but I haven’t done that in a while. Oh this one is hard. What was the first musical I performed as a lead in?”
“Ok I gotta work it backward in my mind.”
“Actually, I’ll give you a bonus if you answer that one and name all the shows I’ve been the lead in.”
“Okkkkkk. Most recent was The Lighthouse, got my baby her first Tony, of which I know there’ll be more. Before you left New York, you were the lead in Chicago. Then you were in the company of a couple shows. At Juilliard, you were the lead in Oklahoma, one of the few freshman to get a lead in a spring production,” Charlotte did a mini bow to the camera as she laughed. “But you were the lead in every spring show every year so Oklahoma, Funny Girl, Rent, and Kinky Boots. But your fist lead role was senior year as Cinderella in your high school production.”
“Damnnnnnn…” They shared a high five. “That deserves hella points cause that’s hard as hell. I’ll give you two for that one. What am I scared of?”
“Spiders and scary movies. Pretty sure if I ever did a horror movie, that’s the one premiere you wouldn’t go to.”
“Correct, you’d be on your own buddy. Ummm, oh this is a good one, what’s my favorite food? You’ve had this question before though.”
He laughed. “And I learned that it wasn’t my bolognese - utterly heartbroken by that by the way - but it’s still pizza. All the girl eats is pizza.”
“Correct. Oh this’s hilarious,” she laughed. “Who is my celebrity crush?”
“Mannnn..." Michael grunted at the mere premise of the question. "Well, obviously me but I will say you went into a deep fan girl space the time you met Denzel and George Clooney.”
“I mean every woman watching would revert to their 16 year old fan girl self in the presence of those two. But correct. Denzel is actually a friend now, we have him and Paulette over for dinner a lot so I’ve chilled out significantly. Um who’s my favorite actor?”
“Me.”
“He’s a bit conceded,” she joked to the camera. “Bonus point if you get whose number two on that list?”
“Mahershala Ali.”
“Good job. But you’re number 1 all day, baby.”
“Oh I wasn’t worried about that at all.”
“Ok, last one, what’s my favorite sleeping position?”
“When I sleep like draped across your chest.”
Charlotte made a buzzer noise and shook her head. “The question was MY favorite, not yours.”
“That ain’t your favorite too??”
“Absolutely not,” she doubled over in laughter at the pure look of offense on his face. “I’m sorry, baby but like when you’re at your Adonis or Killmonger weight, you are hella heavy. My side of the bed is basically also his.”
“It’s been 6 years, why you ain’t say shit?” Michael was genuinely surprised.
Charlotte shrugged. “Cause you sleep best that way and I like that it makes you happy.” Her tone signaled that she was not simply saying that for the cameras but she actually meant it.
“That’s really sweet, babe. So what’s your favorite?”
“Umm when we’re traveling and apart, I sleep on my stomach with like one leg half out of the covers… and in the middle of the bed so I can like sprawl out.”
“Noted. Ok how’d I do, baby?”
“11 points… that was pretty good! Pretty sure I’m not gonna do as good but let’s see.”
“Aight. Oh ok, how many movies have I been in?”
Charlotte’s mouth fell open. “Ok that’s not fair! Did you pay someone to write these questions?? That’s hella hard. Um… are we counting the ones where you were just a cameo?”
“Why not and I’ll give you a bonus if you name the first movie I was lead in?”
“Ok if we’re counting cameos, I’m 95% sure it’s 20 or 21. And your first lead was Fruitvale Station, though you could make a case for Chronicle but that was more of an ensemble cast so I would go with Fruitvale.”
“Damn you’re good! I don’t even know the number exactly but 20 sounds right so you get both points.”
Charlotte wiped her hand across her forehead and said “Whew. Cause it wasn’t looking good for me for a sec.”
“What’s my least favorite food?”
Charlotte laughed. “You have a visceral, and do mean, visceral hatred for Brussels sprouts.”
“Correct. Hate them so much. Umm in the similar vein, what’s my ideal cheat meal when I’m training?”
Charlotte smiled. “Whew, ok you got a lot but I feel like it depends on where we are? Like when we’re in Philly, it’s a cheesesteak, easy. But when we’re in New York, it's pizza from Prince St. and those cookies from that bakery in Lower Manhattan… can’t remember the name. And honestly, when we’re home, you love a huge breakfast spread and anything with carbs. Oh and donuts from that spot in downtown.”
“Damn Els! You get two points for that. Very spot on. Umm how do you know when I’m mad at you?”
Charlotte laughed. “Well, we don’t really argue much but when you’re upset it’s fairly easy to tell cause you call me Charlotte, which he literally never does any other time.”
“Correct. What’s my biggest pet peeve that you do?”
Charlotte grimaced. “Umm when I don’t take my health or safety seriously… or as serious as you would want me to. That causes like 95% of the rare arguments we do have.”
“Yep. Oh this one is kinda hard because I don’t think you can ever remember the date. What day did I propose?”
Charlotte leaned into the arm of her chair. “Oof that is hard. Well the world thinks we got engaged in June around the Tonys cause that’s the first time I wore my ring in public. But fun fact everyone, we got engaged in March. That week was a blur of you know… trauma and near death experiences,” she chuckled, her joke falling flat with her husband. “It’s been six years, we still can’t joke about it??”
“Nah we can’t.”
“Well, I’m the one that almost croaked so I feel like I can joke about it a little,” she argued with a smile. “But anywhoooo, you proposed on March 5. Wait, no! March 6 because it was like 2 am the Thursday after the premiere of the show on our balcony in New York. Best night of my life.”
He leaned forward and kissed her hand and winked at her, causing her to blush.
“Good job. What do I consider to be our first date?”
She chuckled. “Ok well we have different opinions on this but you consider our first date to be that steakhouse we went to after filming one night in Philly. But I consider our first date to be our actual first date, that art walk in the summer. I don’t think I ever learned why you think Philly was our first date?”
Michael merely shrugged nonchalantly. “Cause that night made me fall in love with you. From that date forward, my heart was yours. The art walk was just when you finally caught up,” he winked at her, shaking her knee a bit.
“You never told me that. Stop saying these sweet things and making me want to cry,” she moaned, wiping away a stray tear.
“She cries at basically everything,” Michael fake whispered to the camera causing Charlotte to playfully scoff.
“Next question!”
“What’s my favorite nickname to call you? Bonus question if you tell me which of the ones you call me is my favorite?”
“Your favorite to call me is honey bee but you call me Els the most, which I love. And umm I don’t know the second one, everyone in the family calls you Bakari so I doubt that’s it. And baby is so basic? I call you ‘love’ a lot but I don’t know… you tell me.”
“I really like it when you call me ‘Kari.”
In her utter confusion, for a moment, Charlotte forgot they were surrounded by cameras. “That can’t be right,” she laughed. “I called you that like once in our entire relationship when we wer-“ she stopped herself mid-sentence as she realized he was teasing her and she was about to put alllllll their business on front street. “I really hate you, you know that right?”
He actually almost fell out of his seat in laughter as Charlotte shook her head and covered her face with her cards in embarrassment.
Her mind floated back to once years ago when Michael made her squirt for the first time. He had been fucking her so hard and for so long she could barely formulate thoughts, let alone sentences. And as he demanded she scream his name over and over again, she shortened it to Kari out of pure necessity because she could barely say more than a syllable at a time. He teased her relentlessly afterward.
“Impossible.” He winked at her. “Ok let’s get this back on track. Who’s my favorite athlete?”
“Forever and always , Kobe.”
“Right. What’s my favorite thing to cook?”
“Bolognese… and you got good at some other homemade pasta sauces like pesto during the pandemic that you still like to do.”
“Right. Aight, last one, oh this is a good one, what has been my favorite role and movie I’ve played in my career?”
Charlotte mused for a moment. “Oof that is actually hard. I mean the easy answer is Adonis because you’ve spent the longest with him and I think you’ve valued watching your own career and who you are growing and evolving along with him? And you know, you got me outta that deal which is pretty great.” She joked. “But I think Killmonger and Black Panther will always hold a special place in your heart. Not just because of Chad but because that role was a stretch in terms of who he was and the darkness in him. He challenged you in a lot of new ways as an actor, I think And because of the cultural significance of that movie and the bond it created with Ryan and the entire cast. I’ve never seen you or quite frankly any cast with as close of a bond with each other as you all do. I mean I’ve watched you do 100 press tours and that was the first one you were genuinely sad to have end. And you know, while I would love to see Killmonger back, I think even if you never get the chance to pick that character up again, I think the experience of that character will stick with you forever.”
She rubbed his arm gently as she spoke.
“Yea you get a point for that. Not sure which of those I would choose either but the reasoning for both is super spot on. I think that’s, you know, what I value most about those two roles and projects specifically. Those are definitely the top two. Good job, baby girl. “That’s it! Who won??” Michael immediately inquired of the producer behind the camera.
“You actually tied so you both win.”
They leaned in and kissed each other. “Good job, baby. I guess we both have to pay up.”
“Fine by me,” Charlotte winked at him.
“Wanna tell us what you all wagered?” the producer asked.
The couple laughed and shook their heads. “Nope, nice try though.”
Michael winked at his wife before the producer yelled cut.
***
Thanks for the ask!! I love these so much lol
#black writers#michael b jordan#michael b jordan x oc#mbjordanedit#michael b jordan x reader#black panther#michael b jordan fanfic#creed 3#adonis creed#creed iii
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I am absolutely IN LOVE with the way you write. so real, always gets me hooked. BUT the way you write calum? deceased-completely swiped away... cant wait for your next work :3 (maybe some spicy calum action because i LIVE for those? love u!)
I LOVED writing this piece!!! I may be persuaded to write a part 2.
Purely Transactional
A Calum Hood one shot
18+, Smut, NSFW
The one where you fake date
Word Count: 12,700
Picture this; you’re being forced to attend your sisters engagement party, it’s a weekend event a couple towns over. You’ve got a room booked for two, yourself and your boyfriend. Your family can’t wait to meet the man who’s stolen your heart at last. It’s actually the second biggest event in your family history for years. The issue: you don’t have a boyfriend. You haven’t had one since you were 16. You only said you did have a boyfriend because you thought you would have by now. You never saw life going this way at all. Now you either have to fess up to being a single mother of two beautiful little dogs or find a last minute lover to feel less alone. Yay.
You asked everyone you knew. The neighbour, the neighbour’s neighbour. His cousin from out of town, his cousin from out of town’s neighbour. Every single one of your friends and only one of them gave you something or more, someone to work with. “Why don’t you ask Calum?” You’re slouching on his sofa, sinking into the leather as he strums away at his guitar a joint hanging dangerously from his mouth. “I don’t know him.” You say it like it’s obvious, kicking your feet up. “Which is exactly why you should.” You catch his drift, but you don’t want to. It wasn’t as ideal as he thought it was. “I’m gonna get asked questions.” You deadpan. “So, make some notecards.” You tug the joint from his mouth, bringing it to your own. “Yes you may have that.” You flick him. “Rude.” You take a drag before slotting it back gently between his lips, returning to your seat.
“He won’t do it.” Ashton doesn’t respond. “I know he won’t, he doesn’t like me.” He huffs. ‘You hadn’t given him a chance to’ is what he says in his mind. “Has he told you that?” He quit playing, giving you more of his attention. He really did want to help. “Not exactly, no.” He leaned over his guitar, placing the joint down in his hand painted ash tray on the coffee table. The one you made for him for Christmas the year before. The one that he loved and guarded with his life. “Ask him.” You shake your head. “Ask him.” He says again, the guitar now being rested carefully against the table alerting you that he meant business. “No. Way.” You continue. He moves over to you; you slot your legs across his lap, and he leans back into his seat comfortably under the weight of them. “I’m gonna ask him.” You think he’s joking. You hoped he was joking. He wasn’t joking.
-
“Calum, we don’t know each other that well so I thought you’d be perfect plus you’re kinda the only other single one left, so it had to be you.” There were no lies told. You were the only ones; it might have been the only thing you actually had in common in your little inner circle of friends. You weren’t close but you also weren’t complete strangers. You were a little more than acquaintances, but not really friends. He was your only shot at this, that much you did know. “I resent that.” You roll your eyes, ‘you would,’ you think. You’re running out of options, he was your last chance, you had a week to prepare, this had to be it. You considered throwing in the towel moments before he arrived at your place. Half an hour late. It should have been enough of a sign not to go through with it but then he did arrive. Meaning that somewhere deep down inside him, he was interested. You could work with interested.
“I’ll pay you.” You can’t imagine anything worse; you were desperate sure, not desperate enough to actually pay him but desperate all the same. He seemed reasonable enough though. He had more money than he knew what to do with and he was close with Ashton. Ashton was good people; he’d turn your offer down, you were sure of it. “How much?” He perks up, stroking his chin now his attention was caught. “You weren’t actually supposed to want payment.” You panicked, feet shuffling, hands tapping your thighs relentlessly. He was smirking. “Isn’t that how this is supposed to work?” He steps in close, a couple feet between you, not enough. “Want me to act like an escort? You’re gonna have to pay me like one.” If you hadn’t ever had a conversation with him, you might have found that attractive. He was tall, dark, and handsome. His jawline so picturesque you may have thought about kissing it once or twice. You also liked his eyes, even if he was cold and callous beneath them, only out for himself. But he wasn’t that attractive, and he didn’t intimidate you like he thought he did. Much.
“Like you don’t have more money than my entire family combined.” You dig. This was never going to happen. You don’t know why he even entertained it this far. There wasn’t a single helpful bone in his body, no matter how much you wished there were. “How bad do you need a boyfriend sweetheart?” He shortens the space between you even more. Your chest feels tight, the confidence dripping from his tongue was actually working on you, you were out of your depth. The way he looked at you too. Eyes flicking down to your lips and back, head tilting slightly, almost robotically, like he was sizing you up. Seeing if he could make it work. Make you work for him. You felt a heat on the back of your neck. You felt gross.
“100 bucks if they believe it, 50 if they don’t.” You couldn’t believe you were even saying it. You’d have to make him forget you agreed to any of that. “For how long?” He quipped back. “You’re so greedy. I’m gonna have to make a note of that in our very public lovers spat.” You lace it with venom as well as humour, standing your ground. The corner of his lips begins to curl. He fights it. “How long?” He repeats again, just as steady in tone. “A weekend.” You breathe. “Like Saturday and Sunday.” He asks. “Like Friday to Monday,” you respond just as deadpan. “200.” He takes a dangerous step closer. You don’t flinch. “150 and no black eye.” His brows furrow, forehead creasing in confusion. He kind of reminded you of a neanderthal. Dumb little boy.
“Why would I have a black eye?” You raise your fist. “OKAY PUT YOUR FIST DOWN. Jesus woman, I’ll do it.” He admits defeat. “Perfect. I made some note cards, things about me you may get asked about, read them, memorise them, guard them with your life.” You tug the notes from your back pocket, pushing them into his chest abruptly. He looks down at them quizzically. “What if they ask about me?” You shrug your shoulders. “I’m sure you’re not that complex.” He doesn’t attempt to hide how insulted he is by that.
“When is it?” You point to the cards. “All the information you need is in the notes.” He opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again, “how are we-“ you go to open your front door, you’d had the entire conversation in the hallway, not wanting him to go any further into your home than that. “In the notes Calum.” He takes a look down at the cards in his hands, he hated reading other people’s handwriting, made him feel dumb when he couldn’t understand it as well as he’d liked. You joined your letters all curly too which didn’t help. He actually half expected you to dot the I’s with hearts, you seemed like that kind of girl. He wasn’t sure if he was disappointed that you hadn’t.
You’re ushering him out the door, waving your hand to make him move faster. He pauses in your doorframe. You were so close. You could just kick him; he’d be off your property in no time. You wouldn’t have to think about him for another week then. You could pack your bags in peace. “You spelt my name wrong.” He points to the card; you’d done it on purpose. “No, I think your parents did.” He frowns. Before he can respond again you give him that much needed shove out the door. “BYE CALUM!” You slam it behind him, leaning your back against it as if that would prevent him from getting back inside and on top of your nerves again. He found the whole ordeal just as unpleasant as you had but he still finds himself on the other side of that door with a smile on his face. He read every single card you wrote for him. You were way more annoying than he thought.
-
“What part are you guys having trouble understanding?” You ask the table, leaning over, reaching for your cocktail to distract your mouth before you can step your foot in it. You were being tested way harder than you ever anticipated you would. You really never imagined they’d care let alone put you on trial for the crime of getting a boyfriend without their prior knowledge or approval. It’s nice to know how friendly and welcoming they really are when push comes to shove. You’d have to keep that in mind for the real thing, whenever that might be.
You’d laugh the nerves away, but you were afraid you might never stop laughing. You’d just manically laugh until you sank under the table, down into the ground, right to centre of the earth, burning up at the core before passing away painfully. You wished you could laugh. Instead, you just took the longest sip, looking to your left and right as subtly as you could muster under the immense pressure placed upon your shoulders by your sister and her fiancé. Deep breaths, it’ll all be over soon.
“I don’t buy it.” She states matter of factly. “You go from a single dog mom to suddenly in love with the perfect guy.” You open your mouth to speak but you daren't even try, she’s not finished yet. “It’s a little conveniently timed don’t you think?” She waves her hands to illustrate her point in that annoying fashion that only she could. Waving her fresh manicure right in your face, whether accidental or on purpose, still ridiculously annoying and yet another reminder that she had her life together and you didn’t. She turned to her fiancé before glancing towards the rest of the table for back up, all nodding along with her instantly as if she were a puppet master stringing them along. Cowards.
Your gaze remains steady and ice cold, colder than the slushy cocktail in your hands. The only thing that made the weekend worth it were the free bar and the adorable outdoor beer garden. You release the straw after a long sip with an “Ahh.” You try not to enjoy the twitch of your sister’s right eye at the sound. She’d always loathed when people did that. Anyone who made a noise of satisfaction after a drink no matter how delicious or refreshing it may be, was a colossal pain in her ass. You think she just despises other people’s enjoyment. She thinks it’s an unnecessary sound that people tend to use to exaggerate how nice something is as a performance for other people rather than for themselves. She also thinks it’s incredibly unladylike, which gives you a bigger kick to try it out every single time.
“Why would I lie?” You place your drink down harder than you intend to, wincing as the glass clangs on the table so hard you thought it may shatter. “You know I love you sis, but I don’t think I’d go to the length of faking a relationship just because you’re getting engaged.” Which would be such a wonderful sentence to throw out into the universe if that weren’t exactly what you were doing. “I just met the right guy.” You try not to grimace at the cheesiness of it all, that, and the fact you still hadn’t decided if you’d even liked him more than just a piece of eye candy. Because there was no denying that he was attractive, from the start he’d had that going at least. You’d only been admitting it because of the influence of alcohol too. It was just the rest of the package that gave you a headache.
“But he’s-“ You scowl before she continues that sentence, you almost will her to continue. “He’s what?” You push. If anyone were going to come for Calum they had better make it good because that was an area you excelled in and would absolutely love to be a part of even if you did have to defend him right now. You could always use any good material at a later date when left to your own devices though, a pen and paper would be wonderful.
“He’s not your type.” You don’t believe that’s what she planned to say, it came out far too polite to be something she’d actually thought of. “What is my type then?” You probably shouldn’t have asked her this, but your curiosity trumps all reason. She flails her hand around in her lap, trying to think of the correct way to phrase it. You had no doubt your past relationships were displaying in her mind, enough horrendous options for her to choose from right out of a hat.
“Nerds,” she begins to list on her fingers, which is quite alarming because you really didn’t think you had that much of a track record. “Gamer boys,” which basically comes under ‘nerds.’ “Skinny guys,” that was absolutely not exclusive, “Gamer boy nerds.” She throws 3 fingers up. That’s if she was classing ‘boy’ as a type which you assume she was. You had to hand it to her, she wasn’t entirely wrong about your past dating pool, but Calum wasn’t exactly far off that. “Calum just, doesn’t seem much of a nerd.” You’re certain that’s not what she intended to say, and you thought she might stop herself there, but she doesn’t, why would she? “He’s, well I hate to say it,” you bet she doesn’t though, “he’s out of your league.” Ahh, there it is. That’s more like it. She even says it with an apologetic expression to make you consider it for a millisecond. If only he were here. Oh, how he’d love this.
Calum was the lucky one in this scenario, whether it was fake or not, you were a catch. One that no one had ever caught and kept hold of but a catch, nonetheless. Your mom would agree, probably not the best argument but it’s there and it counted. You reached for your drink once again and prayed he returned soon; you were drowning out here and you weren’t even out of the shallows. “Then lucky me.” You sip as aggressively as one can with a shitty paper straw wedged between their teeth. You were so glad the sea turtles were safer at the hands of recycled paper straws, but you so missed being able to drink a cocktail without the added ingredient of paper mache sinking at the bottom of each glass.
“Why are we in luck?” His voice swings in joining the conversation as he walks back over to your table. His hearing was impeccable, you wonder what else had slipped by him on his way over. You’d honestly never felt so relieved to hear his voice either, even if his steps closer bought the smell of cheap cigarettes and your early twenties. You’d have loved him back then. Back in college, your first taste of freedom, the option to date whoever you liked, to experiment a little. You’d have eaten up that bad boy, leather jacket, cigarette smoking musician act he had going for him. Quiet and brooding too, oh yeah, your knickers would have never left the floor. Good thing you grew up since then.
He grabbed his chair, pushing it right next to yours, as close as he could get without sitting directly on top of you and for a second you ponder about why he bothered with his chair at all. His eyes burned into the side of your face, and you plastered a smile wide enough to match his as you leant into him. “What took you so long?” You whispered while maintaining that sickeningly sweet smile that hurt your face to pull. “You miss me that much?” He licked across his bottom lip, and you mentally scold yourself for looking at it. “I’m getting eaten alive out here.” He grinned wider. “Must be because you’re so damn delicious.” Your stomach fluttered. What the fuck?
He pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek. You felt yourself relax into him, like his lips had sucked all of the tension from your body. You may not like him very much but you sure were glad he was here right now. Even without the facade, it was hard being in environments where you had to face your entire family alone. It’s not that you weren’t close with them, or didn’t love them, it was just difficult standing your own ground sometimes. You needed that extra shield for the invasive questions and high expectations, the anchor to keep you firmly in place, sure of yourself. It was a tough act to balance.
He couldn’t deny that he’d gained some respect for you for how well you’d handled things. He wasn’t entirely sure he’d manage a family dynamic like this alone, even if he were part of it. He was kind of developing a soft spot for you, probably more than you were anyway. Okay, definitely more than you were. He wasn’t sure when it started. He’d had the message exchanges throughout the last week. He had the detailed notes about your life from start to finish to divulge. The 3 hour car journey where you refused to play music, instead forcing him to answer questions about you in preparation for the event. It was somewhere amongst there. Maybe even when you’d shared a room the past two nights without killing each other. In seeing a vulnerable side of you that made you appear a little more human. He’d also seen a larger portion of you without clothing, that certainly helped.
Yes. Perhaps somewhere around there he’d liked you. All he knew now was that in watching your interactions with your family, it made him want to stick to you like glue and support you the best he could for however long you would let him. You had it covered, and you’d tell him that too, afraid of showing any weaknesses, but that’s exactly why he felt like he should support you, he didn’t want you to feel so alone, you didn’t have to be so alone.
He didn’t even have to force himself to kiss your cheek that time, he’d just wanted to rid your face of the frown that threatened to grace it, even if he found it adorable. His issue now was that he had trouble moving away. His lips lingering, breath tickling your cheek, until you coughed under your breath for him to shift away. For a moment he’d wished it weren’t all play pretend. That he could stay there and have it not feel so strange. He couldn’t pin point when his eyes started to soften at the sight of you. All he knew was that they had. It was getting increasingly easier to act enamoured by you, because, well, he might have been.
“So, what did I miss?” He tilts his head towards the rest of the table, it felt like such a difficult task to withdraw his attention from you. You yourself took the opportunity to catch a much needed breath. You also needed to pat your stomach to hold off the swarm of butterflies scrambling around in there. There was this dizzying, uneasiness in the pit of your tummy, like you were fighting the emotions within yourself. Those damn love bugs were wasting their time going crazy for this situation. It wasn’t real, not worth the energy. Surely you didn’t need to be convinced of that, it was clear as day. You didn’t need this unnecessary nausea. “We were just talking about what a wonderful couple you are.” Your brother in law speaks, directing his attention towards the man at your side. You really thought you’d liked that man, he betrayed you. You kept a special scowl just for him. He felt hot under the collar when he felt the intensity of it. Good, you thought. Traitor.
Calum dipped his hand down onto your thigh where he’d noticed your hand was already resting, slipping his fingers between yours, resting atop your knuckles effortlessly for all to see. You’d felt your breath hitching in your throat. The simplicity of the action shouldn’t have caused such a stir, but it was just so easy for him. He was so touchy feely like it was the most natural thing in the world. He loved to touch. It was one of the main reasons that made it so hard to remain sure that this was all an act. Was he like this with everyone? You’d half hoped he wasn’t, even if your other half screamed at you for that naivety. It wasn’t exactly your love language, but you’d wished it were, you wanted to touch him. Too many drinks maybe.
“Why do I feel like that’s sarcasm?” He threw back with nothing but charm, sweet like honey dripping from his tongue. If he weren’t in a band you could certainly picture him as an actor with some of the crap he pulled. Sometimes he even had you believing this whole thing, lines blurring like no other. Especially when nuzzled his nose into your neck eliciting a squeal from your lips. All before deciding to stay there, sitting with his chin resting on your shoulder happily. Like the most casual position in the world.
Your heart pounded against your chest. His arm slunk around your waist. His mouth opened for you, signalling you to bring his cocktail and straw between his lips to take a sip. A ridiculously over the top public display of affection you swore you’d never partake in. Yet for some reason your hands were ignoring every judgment your mind was making, allowing you to feed him his drink like some kind of mother to a parched child. It was interesting to you how fast you’d been able to communicate with him like that without it ever needing to be said or asked for. “You owe me.” You whisper. “Not how this transaction really works.” He says between sips rather impressively. It might even be considered cute if it wasn’t such a threat. Your cheeks burned.
“It just seems so sudden.” Your sister just can’t bite back her tongue for more than two seconds huh. You’re literally sat there with giant, red, beaming heart eyes for each other. So, close your personal space would never be described as such for as long as you shall live, ever again. Literally feeding each other. Squeezing each other’s hands. Hating every second you’re apart. Feeling like you may break without the other. Whispering sweet nothings (more like threats but no one else had spotted that) into each other’s ears. You’re both so over the top, overwhelmingly infatuated (although falsely) with each other you may as well claim this engagement party as your own and YET, no one believed you for a second. Hell, even you thought you might be falling. Thank you vodka.
“When you know, you know.” You say, lifting your hand to pat his cheek after putting his drink back on the table. He squeezes your other hand instinctively. He’d almost forgotten he was holding it in the first place, it felt so nice and soft, like it belonged in his. It could belong there. “What will it take to convince you?” He offers. You squeeze his hand even harder, this time hoping to pump the breaks on this one. As much as you appreciated him sticking up for the relationship. You weren’t up for a quick fire round of questions that you weren’t prepared in the slightest. Especially since he refused to learn the answers to any potential enquiries a day prior. Deeming the impromptu quiz session in the car ‘enough learning for a lifetime.’
“Cal,” is all you warn while you beg him to shut up with your mind instead. “No, no sweetie, we can answer all the questions they have.” He grinned at you so menacingly; you wanted to wipe that smirk right off his adorably smug little face. Woah. When did he become adorable? Scratch that. Shush. You’re so pissed you don’t even fawn over the pet name, much. You may as well pack your bags now and return home though, you were done for, the hoax was over. The end.
“What’s her favourite band?” Okay, we’re actually doing this. “Or singer, if that’s easier.” Ryan, your least favourite brother in law and your only brother in law, fires out. He only knew the answer himself because he tried to impress you one Christmas by buying you a limited edition vinyl. Of all the people at this table, you thought at least he wouldn’t be sceptical of you. Unbelievable.
“There isn’t just one, its multiple, depends what mood she’s in.” You’re intrigued already on where this is going. Your sister jeered at the response, already less than impressed. Calum turns his head, lifting his hand to silence her before she can say anything. You almost pat him on the back for it. “But, if I had to choose.” Which he did. He really did. “Queen, Black Sabbath, The 1975, Taylor Swift, Harry Styles and I’m going to add 5SOS in there because she’s our number one groupie, aint that right babe.” You allow yourself to roll your eyes at the last part, even if you were dating you doubt you’d let him describe you as a groupie, dick.
“That’s easy, they’re pretty generic choices minus sabbath.” You had to give them that one, it wasn’t the most cut throat list of indie artists you could only associate with your taste and yours only. You’d been a bit of a basic music lover your whole life and there was no shame in that. You liked what you liked and that was okay. You were still impressed he knew any of your list though. Maybe he actually had read your notes, lying shit. Definitely not adorable. “Favourite food?” Okay, still going. You lean back, may as well get comfortable since you’re going to be here for a while.
He snorted before answering that one and you wondered what was so insanely funny that could make him move his hand away from your thigh to explain it properly. You missed his touch the second you were without it. Gag. “Bread.” He giggled just saying it, the kind of giggle where the creases beside his eyes really stood out and his cheeks bunched up all precious and pudgy underneath them. You can’t help but smile.
“But not just plain bread right,” he looked to you before continuing as if to say ‘hey, watch this, look at me.’ He thinks he has you down. You indulge him. “So, bread in its many forms,” he lifted his fingers to start listing, “sandwiches, toast, brioche, fried bread, french toast, pizza dough, the list goes on right but at the height of it all,” he really gestured above his head to signify the detailed tier system of bread options. He added a small and useless breather to gain anticipation, it wasn’t working. “Garlic bread.”
You snorted a laugh yourself this time. Not because he was wrong either, because he was 100% correct in fact. You were mortified that, that was your own answer. He locked eyes with you in a way that he hadn’t done before, with genuine affection, maybe even a glimmer of hope that he’d done you justice. He was captivated by you, your cheeks bursting with redness, your smile tight, starting to hurt you in fighting it. You looked so pretty right now. The glow of the lamps out in this beer garden just added to the radiance he already thought you had. He couldn’t believe a girl as pretty as you considered bread your favourite food.
He also found the noise you made to be one of the cutest things he’d ever heard, and he wished he could make you do it again someday. He really didn’t consider himself that funny though. He might have to get some drinks down you for another laugh like that. “I thought your favourite were sour patch kids?” Your sister argued, using her nails again to assist her point. Calum chimed in before you could go to correct her.
“Actually, that was her hyper fixation for a little while, ate every flavour except lemon. Which are my favourite, so it works out pretty well.” Your jaw may as well have hit the floor. He’d only known that from the car ride up here. You were about to throw the packet out before he stopped you, complaining you were wasting money and food since you left all the yellow ones. You were shocked he remembered. If you were impressed by him right now, surely everyone else had to be too, right? Wrong.
“Celebrity crush?” He answered this quicker than you or he would like to admit. You also just didn’t know how he came to the conclusion he did and how he was so correct with it, suspicious. “Joseph Quinn hands down, can’t even knock it, he’s a handsome man.” The next question went swimmingly too. “Favourite hobby?” He gave it a thought for a second, glancing to you and back, “painting, she’ll say she’s no good at it but actually she’s got a gift. I’ve never seen anyone use colour the way she does. Actually, considered using some of your work for album art.” He turned to you towards the end, and you struggled to decipher whether it was bullshit or not. Your heart actually ached at the thought of it being true.
“Favourite movie?” Your brother in law’s turn to ask. You threw your head back in exasperation. “What is this, the Spanish inquisition? Is this really necessary?” You looked to your sister and her future husband. “Yes!” They admitted in unison. Calum’s hand returned to your thigh, patting it softly, his thumb rubbing soothing shapes into your bare skin. It was working. God it was working. He was like ice against your fire, the way he cooled you.
“I’ve got this.” He assured you. “Yeah, you kind of do, that’s why it’s so fucking weird.” You admitted quietly but not enough as to hide it from anyone else, deeming it safe for public consumption. He smirked. “Scared I know too much about you?” You were. You were terrified. This time you do lower your voice. “Just didn’t know you could actually read. Guess my notes were a great help after all.” You stuck your tongue out. For a second he thought about taking it in his mouth, probably some other filthier thoughts floated around his brain too. It was something about the proximity and the cocktails you’d shared, you could always blame those.
“The Harry Potter franchise but her favourite would have to be the second one,” he knows he has it right, but he just can’t think of the name, turning to you momentarily for help, you mouthed “the chamber of secrets” before he nodded and repeated it. He then paused, not for dramatic effect but so he could smile to himself as he thought about why that was your favourite. “It’s the first time we as the audience,” he gestured to his chest, “visit the Weasley house,” ‘the burrow,’ you say in your head, but it was close enough.
“The Weasley’s are the best family in the wizarding world, not up for discussion.” You leant in, your lips close to his ear. “If we were really dating, you’d be getting your dick sucked so hard tonight.” It took every bone in his body not shut the evening down and carry you back to your hotel room with that false promise in mind. He instead tried to ignore the now throbbing sensation in his trousers. Had you always done that to him?
“Ok those are fairly standard.” In what world was his last answer not specifically catered to you? “How about a random trivia round?…” The suggestions just kept going. If this were the only worthy form of entertainment they could find, married life was going to be abysmal. “Or.” He began and this is when you really, really started to panic, like exponentially. There was nothing that could have helped him out now. Your notes only consisted of the likes, dislikes, and the fake scenario in which you first met. There was nothing else. That was the end of the script. He couldn’t be that good at improvisation. You didn’t want the opportunity to find out either. You were no casting director. He no longer had to impress you or anyone else. If they were still at odds with the situation then so be it. You couldn’t please everyone. It really shouldn’t have taken you that long to realise it. Huh. The more you know.
“I can tell you about how she makes me feel.” You really, truly would rather you didn’t know. If it’s the truth, it would hurt. If it was a lie, well that might hurt even more. You begged the universe to keep him quiet. Whatever he had to say was going to blow your cover and throw this whole shit show up in flames. Your sister seemed so keen and intrigued enough to let him continue. You however, said your final goodbyes to any future you had where you weren’t a laughing stock for the entire family. A future where Calum couldn’t reject and discard you publicly. Now it was a very real possibility, you were far more upset than you ever thought you would be. Calum glances at you briefly, bucking up the courage to put on the biggest and most detrimental show of his entire life.
He doesn’t face your sister when the words come tumbling from his mouth. He faced you, addressing you like he needed you to hear this and fuck, maybe he did. You actually felt touched about it until he opened his mouth. “You’re kind of a fucking weirdo.” You went to shut him up as the embarrassment crept in, but he spoke louder as he often did. “You are, you’re a freak- and it’s so, it’s refreshing.” Your mouth closed but oh, so slowly. You began to listen to him, decided to trust him. “You’re fucking nuts.” You rolled your eyes. How many ways were there, to describe you as crazy? Why did he feel the need to use all of them? “But I like it. I do. I feel like I can be myself around you.” He talked with his hands a lot as he scrambled the words. You reached for them, settling them in your lap and he silently thanked you for it. Everything got a whole lot easier when you held his hand.
“You make it feel okay to be a bit crazy. You don’t have to be so straight or basic, you can just, be.” Just as you started to smile, you saw that you weren’t the only one. It was working, his little speech was actually working. “I like who I am around you. Even if sometimes you don’t. I like that you tell me when I piss you off. I like that you act like you hate me when you don’t. I like that you’re so fucking stubborn and headstrong you’d never rely on anyone else and that pisses me off.” You felt tingling racing across your chest. “I love that no moment with you feels forced. That, that smile, right there could make flowers bloom.” He gestured to your face with both of your hands linked together. “That your glare could cause a fucking storm or something.” You tried not to get swept up in the fact he’d stopped saying ‘like.’
“I love that everything feels okay when your hand is in mine, even when you try and say you don’t like holding hands, you’re too good at it to hate it. You know exactly the right moments.” He shook his head with a disbelief. It started to feel so real. “I think I’d miss you even if I’d never met you.” His hand tightened around yours when he said his last sentence. “And I’m glad I met you. I hope one day you’ll be glad you met me too.” The rest of his speech hadn’t mattered when he uttered those words. The words that knocked the breath out of you, leaving you fighting for your life in the seat next to him. You don’t think anyone had ever referred to you so kindly in your life, even if he did call you fucking mental at least 5 times throughout.
He couldn’t even breathe. He’d said it. He’d let it all out and now he just saw the look of shock on your face and couldn’t take a single breath, not knowing how you’d react. It was news to him too though. He could play it off as a lie, say he saw it in a movie, some chick flick or something. He’d copied it because of course he had. But then again, on the off chance you weren’t horrified, he wasn’t sure if he had any more guts left to tell you it was true. He just knew that he needed to do something. He had to fill this painful silence somehow and thankfully, he didn’t have to do it alone.
You kissed him. You scraped your jaw off the floor, and you kissed him. You’d not kissed him like this before. Like your life depended on it. Like he was the very air you needed to breathe. Like he’d meant every word he’d just said, and you’d believed it. God you might have even felt the same. You were also slightly ashamed to say it had your panties soaking between your thighs. Not to mention your heart thundering in your chest.
Calum kissed you as if he were tattooing his words across your lips for eternity. Because for the first time throughout this whole charade, he was actually allowed to mean every word he had said, whether he knew this was how he was feeling at the start of the evening or not. Neither of you could have predicted a confession like this. Even after giving one, he wasn’t quite believing it himself. But fuck, there was freedom in it. There was a lovely form of permanence. Him knowing his words were out there for the universe to take and make with what it will. He felt weightless. It wasn’t the cocktails. Something just clicked in his brain, and he knew it. You were everything.
You melted into each other when his lips found yours. It was sweet and slow but confident, with purpose. Each stroke of his lips against yours carefully considered and carried out like clockwork. You’d felt a rush from this kiss. It was hungrier than any other you’d shared. Quite frankly it was starved. You’d pressed up against him so hard and he’d done just the same to you. His hands coming up to tilt your chin up towards him for more. As if you hadn’t been close enough already. Its only when you gasped at his touch did he slip his tongue into your mouth. You knew he’d had so much practice kissing women like this, but you couldn’t care. You allowed him inside, welcomed the way he licked into your mouth delicately. Blissfully enjoying the taste of his last cigarette on his breath, shocked that it’s not even a put off for you right now.
His words had gotten you drunker than the cocktails you’d been knocking back all evening. You almost whined when he dragged himself away from you. It was way too premature for your liking. Your eyes remained on him and only him as your hands fell back from their place atop his shoulders. You weren’t even sure when they’d gotten there in the first place, just swept away with nothing but him to guide you.
He smiled at you; a smile you know he hadn’t been pretending. You were about to lean back in, sealing that gap between you, before you were reminded of exactly where you were. In public. Very much in public. You sank back into your seat sheepishly, heat rising to your cheeks, burning hot like lava ready to erupt. Calum threw his arm around you, and you seized the opportunity to hide your face in the crook of his neck out of embarrassment. He thought it might be the cutest thing you could possibly have done. He even struggled to wipe the blush off his own cheeks. He felt like a school boy again. “Okay, fine, we believe you.” Your sister threw her hands up in defeat. You’d forgotten what you were even aiming to prove, your head was so flooded with hormones. It remained that way until you were back inside the hotel.
-
Back in the safety of your room, deep in the darkness, the only light being from the glowing orange streetlights outside, you found yourself nervous for what would come next. You needed a moment to think. “I’m going to take a shower.” You said softly. “Do you mind?” He shook his head, unable to speak. You’d think that after he’d already lay everything down on the table, that he’d find it easier to approach you, but he resorted back to silence. “Go ahead.” He offered. You wanted to ask him to join you. You didn’t. You just thought about it while you locked the bathroom door behind you. When you wiped off your makeup. When you turned the water on and waited for it to heat up before stripping and stepping inside. You thought about it even under the water, arm stretched out to reach you shampoo. You still didn’t.
He’s already tucked away under the sheets, while you’re in there. He thought about falling asleep, willing himself into a trance before you could return, he couldn’t. His mind was swimming with thoughts. He instead insured that the wall of cushions you’d built on night one, was as high as it ever was. There to wedge a distance between you once more. Which is what you wanted, right? It was your main housekeeping rule for sharing a bed.
“Hey." He breathed, as you returned from the bathroom, steam seeping out after you. He was nervous. You ignored it. He lay flat, facing the ceiling, his arms fastened at his sides above the covers. You shouldn’t let your eyes wander but the light had given you a clear path to follow, leading you to the tattooed feather of his collarbone. You wanted to touch it, you’re not sure why. You slipped silently into bed beside him, only you turned your back on him, willing the conversation to end. But you didn’t actually want it to be over.
He rolled over without so much as a creak being made on the old bed. He barely even tugged the cover from you. It’s like a move too sudden would spook you and send you running, it might have, he couldn’t be certain. “Do you think the great wall of prevention might be ready to come down?” He nudged it into your back for emphasis. He didn’t want the night to end. You didn’t either. And yet, your stomach twisted to think of an excuse, a reason for it to stay very much where it was. Only you didn’t find one. “Okay.” You spoke softly. “Okay.” He repeats just as low, just making sure. You hardly felt him moving them. It was so unlike him to be so gentle, so light handed, treading carefully. He was so cautious and calculated, you never thought he had it in him. The cushions were gone. Now what?
“I’m gonna ask you something, you don’t have to say yes, but I really need to ask it so please just hear me out.” There were a million different things he could have asked you; you’d never have enough time to predict it or rehearse the correct answer, you could only breathe as you anticipated it. “Can I hold you?” It felt good to say it, even if his breath was shaky and his heart felt like it might just pack in. He really wanted to touch you. That was before he even saw you there, lay in the warm glow of the light, hair still a little damp, loose over your shoulder, your t-shirt clinging to your body.
The sheets weren’t covering your lower half as well as you’d thought they were, not now the barrier between you was down. Now he could see the lace band of your panties peeking bellow your sleep shorts. He was about to abandon the whole ordeal. Just a peek shouldn’t have been enough to stir him between his legs and maybe it wasn’t, not on its own. But if he’d counted every other occasion tonight where you’d looked too pretty, sounded too sweet, it all added up and he guessed it contributed to the problem.
He started to worry when you didn’t answer him. You obviously weren’t asleep. You were clearly fiddling with the sheets, your fingers tugged at the material anxiously. He’d completely overstepped, he should have expected that. You weren’t together. You wouldn’t ever be together. That was all this entire weekend was supposed to be after all. Just an opportunity to fake it. How could he be so stupid? “Come here.” He looks down to see you half turned back to him, the duvet lifted, giving him even more of a view of your shorts, but he tried not to look at you too much. To just see the invitation, which was what mattered the most.
He wasn’t sure how to approach, you couldn’t help him either. You would spoon, that was a given, you hadn’t budged your position, left him no choice but to mould his body around yours. He shuffled closer, awkwardly trying to stretch his right arm underneath your pillow without lifting your head, hurting your neck. He curled around your back, leaving inches between you, like he couldn’t quite make himself grow any closer. His left arm rested on his own hip, too afraid to reach out and touch yours. He’d asked to hold you. Why can’t he hold you?
You took matters into your own hands. You blindly reached behind you, hands finding his. Your one superpower. You interlock your fingers with his and bring his arm around your waist, the heat of his body coming with it. You could probably feel his heart pounding chest now he allowed it to press against your back. You definitely felt the goosebumps climbing his arms when you pressed a feather light kiss to his knuckle. His heart leapt in his chest.
“What was that for?” He lifted his head, you don’t know it, but he can see enough of your face from this angle to catch the blush on your cheeks and the smile that crept onto it. He’s reassured by it. “Just felt like it.” You shrugged. Only he doesn’t buy it, but he won’t push his luck. His head hit the pillow, only this time, he’s closer to you. His nose is nearly buried in your apple scented locks. You were so sweet smelling at all times, but that apple was just so incredibly you. He knew you’d only used the stuff because it came in a green bottle too. Because only you would map your product selection on the colour alone. It was one of the first facts in your note cards, that your favourite colour was green.
Fuck. He thinks. He really fucking liked you. He wouldn’t even curse himself for it. You weren’t what he expected, and he liked that. He liked that this didn’t go to plan. He liked that he couldn’t pretend any longer. He was grinning to himself, chuckling even. He boldly buried his head in the crook of your neck like he’d done a couple of times that night but more invasively now there wasn’t much space between you.
“What’s so funny?” You shook his hand in yours. “Hmm?” You fought a laugh yourself; his laughter was infectious; it was just stupid and cute. “Ash was right.” He said. You turned your head back slightly, unable to see anything really, before giving up and leaning into the pillow again. “Bout what?” He leaned his head on your shoulder, lips nearing your ear. “Told me this wouldn’t work.” Interesting really, since he ushered you into asking him into this at the start. You’re suitably confused. He’s holding you, giggling in your ear, body warm against yours in this stupidly large bed that he’d made feel tiny, after convincing your family how in love you are, and he said it wasn’t working. That Ash, your biggest influencer, had also predicted it. Well, you’d have said the opposite.
“This isn’t working.” You have a questioning tone. “Didn’t seem like that downstairs.” You were defensive, rightly so. “No, not like that.” He started. Your grip on his hand loosened and he panicked. ‘Just say what you mean, say what you mean,’ he tells himself. “Turn over.” He leant himself up, still firmly on his side. “Why?” He rolled his eyes. “Please turn over.” He pleaded. “Whyy?” You say again. “Fuck, would you just-“ he shook his hand free from yours, placing it firmly on your hip and he twisted you, so you were flat on your back, facing up at him with surprise. He didn’t expect that to work as well as it did.
“You’re so fucking annoying.” He huffed. “Thanks.” Your arms crossed over your stomach, you tried to avoid his gaze, but he manoeuvred himself so that he was directly above you. He decided you couldn’t be trusted to keep you gaze anywhere but on him. You had to give him a shot. Your expression had softened at the sight of him. Just like he’d hoped. His stupid round cheeks. The dumb smile. Why was he always smiling?
“I wanna kiss you.” He said. You thought he was childish. “Is holding not enough?” He shook his head. “Never enough.” He leaned in close, but he doesn’t kiss you, not yet. His forehead just pressed against yours, his lips hovered, breath tickling your own mouth. “Can I?” He begged for it. “Yes.” You breathed. He does. His lips brush yours and it’s just as nice as every other kiss he’d given you. You’re not sure why you expected it to be different all of a sudden. You just had the idea that maybe it would be. Now that you, well now that you actually liked it.
But it wasn’t different, it was exactly the same. “Calum.” You whined. “Yeah?” He was upset that you’d interrupted such a crucial moment. “It doesn’t feel like I thought it would.” Your fingers stroked over his cheek; he arched a brow to question you. “We have kissed before; you remember that right?” He teased. You couldn’t have been that drunk. “Yes. Shut up. That’s not what I meant.” He’s still not on the same page although relieved somewhat that you were in fact sober like he thought.
In his mind that kiss was perfect, electrifying, mind blowing, the best kiss yet, you’d have known it too if you didn’t stop him so quickly. “What’s it feel like?” He tried to understand. You thought for a moment. What did it feel like? Warm, soft, sweet, he was one of the sweetest tastes. Where most men would taste of mint, Calum didn’t. He tasted like cigarettes and the kiwi and strawberry gum he chewed to mask the scent of them on his breath. It didn’t work completely, it more meshed together into its own unique flavour.
It felt nice. “Feels normal.” You said it like it was a bad thing and he can’t understand why. “What’s so wrong with that?” You tried to shake your head. Shake some sense into yourself. You were blowing it. “Kiss me again.” You didn’t have to ask him twice. He pushed his lips against yours, harder than the first time, much harder. Barely leaving a gap between you. Suffocating you with his kiss. He feels like this time he has to try harder; he needed to give you his all. There had to be more.
His lips glided over yours, his lips rough but still careful. His tongue poking out slowly, licking gently over your bottom lip. You part it instinctively and the second his tongue slithered across your teeth, you finally felt it. You don’t know why it took you till the second try. You’re so grateful you felt it at all, but you were panicking for a second, thinking you’d made this huge mistake because how could you let yourself fall for him after all this nonsense? Then you felt it, that spark kicking you to life. That fire in your belly, burning you up inside, begging for his coolness to dampen it down. You fucking needed him.
Your hands gripped his shoulders, nails tucking into them just a little. He’s feeling the heat radiating from you, your energy pouring into him. He’s smiling against your mouth as your tongue meets his briefly. He just knows that this time, he’s got you. “You had me worried there for a second.” He panted, not wanting to pull away but needing to say something. You kissed him over and over, distracting him. Now you’d started, you couldn’t stop. “I know, I’m so cruel.” He smirked, kissing you back just as vigorously, hand coming to your throat, resting gently on it before tilting your chin up towards him.
You captured his eyes, so dark, nearing black in the dim light. If it weren’t for the golden flecks you’d be convinced they really were that dark. “Had to be sure.” He pecked your lips. “Yeah?” You did the same. “Yeah.” He’s so close that every time his eyes closed and reopened, you felt his lashes fanning your cheeks. “And now?” He asked so hopefully, heart on the line as he waited on your answer. You wanted to make him wait, torture him a little, not tonight, tonight you were kind enough to put him out of his misery. “Now I want you.” You said. He could have punched the air with excitement.
You’re kissing again. Scrambling around, his body lowered on top of you, one hand resting on your cheek, the other grazing your hip bone. His body shuddered when you whimpered under the weight of him. You let your legs widen as he slipped between them, all before he lifted your thigh, depositing it safely around his waist. You prayed that he didn’t immediately feel the dampness in your shorts but you’re not the only one struggling.
His hard on rubbed into you, your lips parting with surprise. “Fuck.” He muttered, momentarily halting your make out session, the heat between your thighs overwhelming him. You sensed his embarrassment, his cheeks burning with it. “Me too.” You breathed. Lips pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose as your hand slipped between you, coming down to cup his bulge boldly through his shorts.
The groan he released is sinful, maybe even painful. He felt big. He felt impossibly big. He wouldn’t fit in your hand, maybe not even in the two of them. He thrust into your hand when he felt you touch him. It was his first instinct; he couldn’t fight it. “Shit, sorry.” You caught his lips, tugging his bottom one between your teeth, releasing it slowly. “Gonna move my hand, want you to do it again.” If he thought he was embarrassed at his neediness before, it was about to get a whole lot more mortifying.
Your hand moved away, he was grinding his hips down into you as you’d asked, and you felt the way his cock jumped into action. “Baby.” You panted. He’s sure his heart is going to explode, maybe his cock too, probably that first. “Say it again.” He needed it. “Baby.” You kissed him. He’s rocking his hips into you, you started rotating your own, rubbing yourself over his cock, hand moving out of the way. “Baby, baby, fuck.” He’s covered your lips with his, nose mashed up against you, you can’t breathe, you don’t even want to, you wouldn’t miss the feeling. All of this felt so much more important. “Feel so good.” You whine. He never would have thought you’d be so vocal. You didn’t seem like the type. Thought you’d be a bit of a brat maybe but not this, not confident and sexy and so sure of what you wanted. He could love that; he could love you.
“More, need more.” You’re eyes rolled back when he’s lifting your hips with both hands, pulling your core over him. His cock slipping through your folds through too many barriers of clothing. “Shit Cal.” You felt the sensation of fire burning into you, setting you alight. You’re dizzy and hot and you just felt so good against him. The friction of his shorts might have been frustrating, but it was also, so rewarding. It was such a good roughness against your clothed mound. “Are you?” He can’t even say it, too busy dragging you over his cock. “I’m, fuck, Calum.” He doesn’t stop, not for a second, not for a beat. He makes you ride it out. He’s so stupidly proud of himself. He’d barely touched you and you’d come undone. You’d actually fucking came. “Fucking unreal for me.” He slowed himself down before he followed a similar path to destruction.
He’s pushing your hips back down, letting your body sink into the mattress, pulling away from you to catch a breath. “I can’t believe that.” Your hand floats through your hair combing it back. He’s resting back on his knees, still between your legs. “You’re so fucking hot.” His eyes don’t look anywhere but your face. Your shirt is half way up your chest, bare tits poking out for him to see and yet, he doesn’t look.
You can’t say you share the same sentiment. Your eyes raced to the outline of his erection in them grey basketball shorts. You drank in the sight before you and your teeth clamped down into your lower lip. He reached down to squeeze your thigh. “My eyes are up here.” He gestured with his index and middle finger. You smirked up at him. “Kind of wish they weren’t.” You didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah?” You nodded. Eyes falling back to his very, large problem that he now palmed through his clothing. Shit, even his own hand wouldn’t cover him.
“Gonna keep looking or do you feel like helping?” His voice was awfully steady for someone ready to come apart at the mere thought of your touch. “You want me to?” You’re not sure what you’re asking. “Need you to.” He said. You sat yourself up. “Gonna take this shirt off me first?” You looked up at him, eyes wider than he’d ever seen, somehow so innocent even though you were anything but. “Of course, I am.” His hands didn’t waste any time lifting the material off over your head. You felt the bite of a chill rush over you, your nipples hardening, perking up with it. “So, very, sexy.” He can’t believe his luck. You’re amazed that you don’t feel shy, being so exposed to him. Guess that was good, it felt natural, you felt safe.
“Gonna help you.” You warned, hands slipping down into his shorts. You gasped at the immediate contact with his bare skin. “No underwear.” He smirked down at you. “Fucking slut.” Your hand cupped him just like before, yeah, definitely needs more than one hand. “You love it.” He chanted “I do.” You confirmed, squeezing him hard. The rush of air that left his mouth, oh it made this all so worth it. You tried to be bolder, you took his length in your palm for the first time. You gripped him tight and moaned in unison. He moaned at the feeling of finding home in your soft touch. You moaned; at the way your hand can’t even wrap around him fully. He’s too thick, too girthy, there wasn’t enough of you to take it all.
“Do something.” He urged, forehead leaning on yours for stability more than anything else. “Ah right, that’s what I was doing.” You play as you sprang to action, your hand lifting to the throbbing head of his cock, letting the trickles of beaded cum roll into your palm before you can cover him in it using it whilst you twist your hand up and down his length. “Ohh, fuck.” It came out gravelly. He’d never thought much of hand jobs, said no to many throughout his life, never being worth the time, never feeling as good as his own hand. This though. You. Your hand. You touched him and he swore your hand was made to hold his cock. Even if that sounded ridiculous, there had to be some way of it being true because he felt so good. His cock was slick and hot, it glided through your grip with ease and your tightened fist on him, it was incredible.
You knew to tug him hard at the base, to loosen around his tip. To constantly use his pooling arousal to your advantage. You worked his cock better than anyone else could, maybe even better than him. You weren’t rushing, you didn’t wank him hard begging for it all to be over, getting bored of the feeling. No, you just touched him. Switching your pace. Listening to his hot little sounds. Paying attention to what made him twitch, what made him rut his hips into your palm. You loved touching him, you wanted to touch him forever, every which way you could.
He started fucking your hand. He’s not sure he can stop himself and you’re so turned on by it you actually moan. “What are you doing to me?“ He’d never felt like this before. You’d made him so weak. He was desperately thrusting into your fist like a pathetic little virgin, and you were moaning. He had to be making this up, you weren’t real, none of this could have been real. “Fuck Cal.” You’re soaked at the idea of it all, you even clenched down on fucking nothing, the thought of him inside you instead of just the palm of your hand, it’s too much to bear. “Need to fuck me.” You quicken your pace, your hand tugging at him desperately. “Fuck, fuck. Stop, you gotta stop.” He doesn’t want you to, God knows he doesn’t, but if you don’t, he’s gonna fucking bust all over your perfect little hand.
He forced your hand out of his shorts and you have the audacity to pout up at him when he does. “You’re something fucking else.” He pushed you back, your head drops happily onto your pillow. “Something good I hope.” You toyed with him, and he is about to lose it. “Take these off.” He tugged at your own shorts, and you didn’t budge. “Off.” He commands, climbing off the bed, feet hitting the cold wooden floor of the hotel room.
You shifted behind him, pulling your shorts and panties down your thighs, tossing the material to the general vicinity of you shirt. Your hands are once again in your hair, combing through it with nerves just eating away at you. You ached for him. Your thighs were squeezed so tightly shut you thought he might never pry them open again. You were on edge, literally dying there waiting. He’d dropped his shorts; they’d hit the ground quietly. He stepped out of them quickly, hand lifting to touch himself, he let out a quiet hiss when he did. He was so turned on, cock so tight and hot in his hand, he’d bury himself in you and never wish to leave.
He climbed back onto the bed, settling on his knees like he had before. His hand rolled delicately across his tip, soaking himself still, using his own arousal to ready himself for you. His cock had a wet sheen in the light. You thought it looked even more delicious now with a coating like that. Perhaps your legs would part after all. “You sure?” He thinks he knows your answer, but he’d hate himself if he didn’t check. This had all been so perfect, better than he could have ever imagined because God, his imagination wasn’t half as creative enough to make you up. You were far better than anyone he’d ever known. The more he knew you, the better you got. Each and every layer, prettier or wittier or more perfect. You must have been real. Real and a gift made just for him because you had him hook line and sinker. He was dumb to credit himself for thinking he imagined you a few moments ago.
“Fuck me.” You spoke. He shook his head. Leaning over you, tip throbbing hard when it breached your walls for the first time before making a heady retreat, running through your slick, wet, lips instead. “Can’t.” He said. Running his cock up and down, eyes flickering shut, throat drying with his pure fucking thirst for you. “Why not?” You furrowed your brow. He’s right there, all he had to do was enter you. You could just lift your hips and he’d slip his fat cock inside. “Can’t call this fucking, not when you feel this good.” You think you might have passed out when pushed inside of you. “Oh, fuck.” He covered your lips to catch your moan. He didn’t think about the fact he’d be sinking in further, bottoming out, pelvis to pelvis with you when he did.
Your legs wrapped around him so tightly your heels began to dig into his tasty, round backside. You fasten him in place intentionally. You needed to feel him. Needed to feel him in his entirety, pulsing inside you. He bit down on your shoulder till he tasted a metal zing of fresh blood, he’d apologise at a later date. For now, he needed it. You were sopping wet around him, engulfing his cock in a warm, tight sleeve. With each breath you took he slipped a little bit further inside. You felt so full you’d felt him bulging in your stomach, so far inside you it even hurt you.
“I need to move, gotta let me move.” He locked eyes with you before you nodded, loosening your legs, letting him withdraw his hips, pulling right back away from you, tip nearly leaving the crevice of your wetness. Then he pushed back in, all the way, hips against hips and you fucking moaned. You moaned so loud he thought he hurt you, ready to withdraw and panic at that thought. But then you lifted your hips to meet his. You meet his next thrust and then the next, and the next. You don’t let him do a damn thing without your involvement. You needed to be in this together because what’s the fucking point if you can’t give each other your all?
“You’re so wet, soaking me.” You can only sigh, you’re not sorry, he got you so damn good he ought to be proud. “So damn hot. Gonna need to change the fucking sheets.” He rambled on. His hands dig delicious bite marks into your hips. Yours place a similar attack atop his shoulders. “Feel unreal.” You captured his lips in a needy kiss, chest pushing up as your back arched involuntarily. “Very real, so fucking real.” You muttered. As your back arched further, Calum found a place within you, a sensitive spot he angled into unexpectedly. A place you’d only ever touched yourself. You shook, and you clenched down on him, hard.
He’d be an idiot not to notice it. You were clamping down so much he worried he’d lose circulation all together. “You want me dead don’t you?” He slammed his hips down into you. “Won’t be happy till I’m not fit for anyone else, that it?” His chest flattened against yours, his cock reaching that angle even more intrusively than before and you’re about to scream for it.
He’s got so much pressure leaning against it you’re about to crumble and he doesn’t even know it. “Calum.” You panicked, hands snaking into his hair, tugging his brown curls. He couldn’t get any closer to you and yet you needed it, wanted him covering you. “Fuck, you’re, fuck are you cumming?“ He leaned his head back, looking down into your eyes, you have tears brimming in them and he can’t believe it, he was so right. “Please, please don’t stop.” Your voice came out so weak, soft, precious, and broken and he thought you sounded like a needy little princess when you begged for him like that. “Anything, anything for you.” He meant it too.
His hand wrapped around your throat loosely and tenderly as he coaxed your second orgasm from you. Your scream caught in your throat. He kissed you hard, breathing life erratically back into you. The way you tightened around his cock has his eyes roll back into his skull, his teeth biting down hard on your plump, cherry lips. He’s so close to cumming himself, but he will not let himself go until you’ve done it first. He had to make it through. He had to feel the way you came around his dick for the first time. Needed it imbedded in his brain as the religious experience it certainly felt like it would be.
“Calum, Calum,” you’re not even aware you’re yelling his name out there. You just do it. That’s what gets him in the end. Your pretty little voice wrapping around his name, securing the idea that he was in fact the guy who’d made you crumble into a mess in these sheets, twice. It was all him. “Where, fuck, where do you-“ he can’t even say it, can’t get the words out. “In me, need it in me, please baby.”
He did as you asked, his hips pulsing into you, cock sputtering, leaking his hot cum inside you. You felt it all. Deep inside, covering you, damning you. You were claimed from the inside out. There wasn’t a single piece of you that wasn’t marked as his now. You sighed heavily at the thought of it. “So, fucking good.” You muttered. Him filling you was just so erotic to you. He’d felt exactly the same because of course he did, he was made for you. He loved that you’d let him take you like that. It felt heavenly pouring himself into you, coating you in his colours. Pulling out might just be the hardest thing he’d ever have to do.
His body covered yours. He’s no strength to hold himself above you, but no way of pulling away just yet. You’d not minded his weight at all. You’d actually enjoyed it, felt comforted by it. Even if your bodies were sweat soaked and desperately in need of another shower, it felt nothing but perfect lying here a little longer. Your fingers massaged into his scalp, he hummed at the relief of your touch. His breathing slowed down, softly blowing over your chest where his head lay comfortably.
You decided you loved the sound of him breathing. You can’t explain exactly why that is, but it offered you some kind of comforting stimulation that you think you’d listen to happily for hours. The mere existence of him, being enough to soothe you. “So that, uh-“ he licked his bottom lip, wetting the dryness there. “That happened.” You heart leaped and you know he felt it. “Don’t make it weird.” You nearly begged. “I’m not making it weird.” You poked his head. “You’re making it weird.” You accused, poking him again. “Would you stop?”
He lifted his head this time to avoid another attack. Well fuck. If he thought you looked beautiful before, it had nothing on the way you looked now. You were flustered and tired, your eyes wet with tears and probably sweat and yet, gorgeous. “You’re staring.” He hated you. “I can’t stop.” He’s lying. He could, he just never wanted to. “What will people think?” You gasped. “How will we tell them?” He continued, following your train of thought like he’d conjured it himself.
“Well, what do we actually have to tell? You know, to get our story straight.” He knew that was your not-so-subtle way of asking what you were, after all of this, but he doesn’t mind it because he’d also liked to know. As cliché as it was. It really did happen that fast. “Well,” he rubbed your cheek with the back of his hand, watching as your face leaned into his touch. “Your family think we’re in love so, that’s kind of handled.” You laughed. “That you’re way of confessing your love for me?” You dig with a smile. “No.” Yes. But it was way too soon to verbalise that. Sure, you’d known him for a while, but this weekend was the closest you’d ever been. And yeah, he may have felt it in his bones, but he wasn’t crazy enough to admit it to you. Jesus Christ. “So, it’s just, everyone else.” He nodded, then repeated after you. “Everyone else.” Easier said than done.
“What if I uh, slip you another 200?” He rolled his eyes. Only you would ask that. “Oh, because I haven’t whored myself out enough?” You grinned. “Well, if the shoe fits baby.” He nudged your nose with his own. “No but seriously, what would 200 get me?” You tried to deadpan but the smile refused to leave you. “I’m refunding it by the way.” You feigned shock. “My money not good enough for you Hood?” He looked at you with a ‘you really asking me that?’ look on his face. Though technically, you hadn’t actually given the money to him yet. “Only asked for it because I knew it’d piss you off sweetheart.” That hadn’t surprised you at all. “I dragged my ass to the bank for nothing.” He thought he might howl with laughter.
“You got cash out?” There he goes, those chubby fucking cheeks, the crinkling eyes. “You actually withdrew 200 bucks for me?” You wanted the bed to swallow you whole. “I DON’T EXACTLY HAVE YOUR BANK DETAILS CALUM!” You yelled and he laughed harder, nearly rolling off you all together until he remembered he was still very much inside of you. “I’m so fucking dumb.” You face palmed with the embarrassment of it all. “You kinda are.” He agreed. He knew you’d hate his lack of support. “I like em dumb though.” He also knew he deserved the flick you gave him. “We’ll get you to the bank tomorrow, don’t you worry babe.” This time you didn’t flick him. “Not going anywhere tomorrow.” You sighed, arms wrapping around him. His stomach fluttered when you held him like that. “Why, what you got planned?“ He nuzzled his face happily into your breast, his spare hand squishing the other nicely. “Gonna get my fucking money’s worth that’s what.”
#5sos#5 seconds of summer#5sos fanfic#5sos imagine#5sos fic#5sos one shot#5sos smut#5sos calum#5sos calum hood#5sos calum smut#5sos calum imagine#calum hood#calum hood 5sos#calum hood fic#calum hood imagine#calum hood one shot#calum hood smut#5 seconds of summer calum hood#5 seconds of summer calum#calum 5 seconds of summer
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Chaos Gremlin and they Know it
Walk with me for my next bit of madness.
What if…what if…What if between Obi Wan and Qui gon, and later Anakin and Obi wan, Obi Wan was considered the more chaotic one. Like the reason that he hadn’t been knighted is because the council is honestly a little afraid about what they would be unleashing on the galaxy if he no longer has any supervision (Rancis Oppo secretly had a study done, any mission that Obi Wan undertakes without Qui Gonn there every minute is 25% more Ridiculous, capital intended, over all). And the council is concerned about giving him Anakin to raise, but not for the sad(barely knighted, watched his master die, trauma) reasons but because no one knows what will happen with two like Kenobi.
Just picture Mace Windu finding out about Anakin’s secret relationship, his violent tendencies, and his slight instability and he drops his head into his hands and goes ‘Thank the Force, he takes after Qui Gonn’. Also picture Mace Windu hearing about Ahsoka Tano getting herself captured and hunted for sport with other younglings and somehow rescuing them all and just bursting into tears because ‘Fuck, it skipped a generation.’
When they landed on Tatooine, Qui Gonn Jinn very deliberately left Obi Wan behind. From hard won experience he knew that if Obi Wan set foot on a planet with as much as a single slave ring he would immediately be abducted by a slaver. Then he would somehow start no less than four slave uprisings, rescue some endangered or unknown creature, break at least 3 bones, and then find, make worse, and fix the only blood fued on the planet. And frankly Qui Gonn does not have time to deal with restructuring a planet's economy after his little chaos gremlin collapses the one that was based on sentient trafficking, not today. Not again.
By the way, Anakin is the 4th ‘Chosen One’ that Qui Gonn has brought home in five years in an attempt to get the Council to knight his Padawan. Qui Gonn loves his Chaos Goblin of a son dearly but he’s tired, he wants to start going on missions that don’t end in ridiculous again. Or be hyper paranoid when they go normally.
Half the Jedi were confused or resistant to the fact that the Sith were back. Until they heard who was on the mission. Then they all went ‘That tracks’ and moved on. Anakin thinks that he is being watched for ‘Chosen one’ reasons. He is not, the Council quickly realizes that he somehow is also a mitigating influence on Obi Wan (the amount of ridiculous and chaos in the mission drops by a full 75% with Anakin, this however does not drop it down to even a solar system's distance to anything normal).
Mace Windu is deeply, deeply impressed by Anakin. And it is mostly due to the fact that he has spent more than three days in constant contact with Obi Wan without turning strange, or a cult leader. Mace Windu, personally, knows about 6 cults throughout the galaxy dedicated to Obi Wan Kenobi. Three only exist on their own planets (one of which is the entire planet’s religion.), two involve multiple planets in specific sectors, and there is one down in a particular section of level 37 on Coruscant (Anyone who enters it comes back a little strange).
Look, I am not saying that this Obi Wan is an Eldritch Horror wrapped in a Disney Princess, but… this Obi Wan is an Eldritch Horror wrapped in a Disney Princess. There are scattered reports that the three of the last beings that tried to mug Obi Wan blinked awake 6 days later, having reevaluated all of their life choices, and now in contact with some heretofore unknown long lost relative that they desperately need to help.
It should be noted that Palpatine abjectly hates Obi Wan, not just because he is Anakin's master. It is also because he can sense that if Obi Wan even hinted he wanted more power it would be given to him, no questions, plots.
Every couple of months the Council debates sending Obi Wan to work in the Senate for a while, just to see what would happen. It always boils down to the fact that they may actually need that building at some point. As an excuse it gets weaker all the time.
And Anakin is kind of in the dark for most of his padawanship. He thinks the council hate him, they do not. He thinks that Obi Wan is the perfect Jedi. If he had said that to anyone in the Jedi Order at any point (including Obi Wan), the Jedi in question would hurt themselves laughing. Palpatine tries to use that, to some success, until Palpatine uses his influence to get Anakin knighted young.
Through some hand waving series of events Anakin brings up to Mace Windu that the Council didn’t want him knighted because they don’t trust him. Windu just blinks at him for a really long moment before telling him that it was not him they were concerned about. He goes onto say that yes, that without a war and in normal circumstances the council would like to give Anakin a few more years of missions with other masters, so he could see what actual normal missions look like (Frankly no one was surprised when Obi Wan went looking for a bounty hunter and managed to find a clone army) and he is a little younger than the average knight but that is offset by how well Anakin has handled having Obi Wan Kenobi for a Master.
Anakin just goes ‘What?’ very quietly.
Windu sighs. ‘Do you understand how impressive it is that you have spent the last 10 year in almost constant contact with Obi Wan Kenobi and haven’t developed some weird ability (Bant Eerin, Quinlan Vos, Reeft), accidentally rediscovered a lost darkside faction to follow you around clucking (Garen Muln), develop a habit of finding the weirdest Force artifact in any given location (Luminara), or have become a really obvious cult leader. And if you have become a cult leader I thank you for being discreet.’
‘Cult leader!!?’
Windu shrugged, ‘Current official count is 6 cults dedicated to Obi Wan specifically, though I’ll eat my left boot if the 212th doesn’t become the 7th within the next six months, I am already prepared for the fact that it will spread to the entire GAR in a year’
Then he hands Anakin a piece of flimsy, telling him that this was an official approval of his marriage by the Jedi council, on the grounds that the marriage was clearly ‘The Will of the Force’. While Anakin gapes at him, Windu clarifies that this covers Padme in case of pushback for marrying a Jedi. She would be considered as part of the Order under a religious exemption. She may have to recuse herself from Jedi matters in the Senate (that was up to the Senate Ethics committee) but it also means that the next time she gets a death threat, they could deploy all of their resources instead of just whatever the Senate approved of.
‘The Will of the Force’ Anakin said weakly.
Windu smiles, ‘you have no idea how much joy it gives me to be able to write those words on an official report to the senate. The pedantic bastards can’t argue against it because of the treaty with the Jedi Order. You have my thanks for that alone.’
Overwhelmed Anakin blurts out what happened on Tatooine, with the Tusken village. Windu clicks his tongue absently, “Hmm, I had wondered why your aura had become a bit darker, but I thought it was because of Geonosis. I’ll get you set up with my therapist, they handle most of the Shadows as well. Once they sign off, we’ll get in touch with the Tuskans to see if there are any reparations you can make.”
And Anakin is just standing there, Absolutely flabbergasted because the Chancellor had him completely convinced that those two secrets would be the WORST things that he could admit to.
Wnidu throws out another deep sigh, ‘Do you think that you are the only Jedi to act in anger with huge consequences? I created an entire lightsaber form because I had so much anger that I needed somewhere to put it. Half the Shadows have actively fallen, some multiple times. Your own Master was abducted by slavers at 16, two hours later their ship landed on an inhabitable world, they unlocked the cages, and the entire crew committed ritual suicide. To this day we have no idea what Obi Wan did to them. We preach self control so much, Anakin Skywalker, because Force users have the potential to do massive amounts of harm in a very short timeframe but because such small slips have such huge consequences we have a rather…different view of what is unforgivable.’
Two months later Anakin’s 501st is in battle with the 212th. He thought his men were a bit unhinged (and liked it like that, everything is better with the proper application of explosives) but then Grievous kicked Obi Wan into a large stone/small cliff so hard that it rattled Anakin’s teeth. 6 troopers immediately stopped firing to sprint through blaster fire to Obi Wan’s position. Anakin could have sworn that the blasters bolts simply passed through the 212th’s medic, Fizz, without slowing. At the same time three companies of the 212th, led by Cody and Ghost, roared and dogpiled Grievous, with his four lightsabers, and the 30 battle droids that he had with him. They also stopped using blasters at about that point. Anakin had not known that the clones were strong enough to rend metal apart like that.
The 501st can only stand and watch in befuddled awe and horror as the enemy is decimated by a suddenly feral 212th. The carnage only stops when there are no more enemies and the medics declare that Obi Wan will be ok with some time in a Bacta tank.
It is not long after that battle that Obi Wan finds out about decommissioning. He is on Coruscant, in the council chamber itself, but the atmosphere on planets, moons, and planetoids (both inhabited and not) across the galaxy begins to tremble. For a brief moment residents of Coruscant would swear that the sky turned 212th gold.
Shaak Ti reports that decommissioning is written into the contract that the Republic/Jedi have with the Kaminoans. That it is not something that the Kaminoans can just stop.
Obi Wan decides it is time that he speaks with the Senate about this. The Council effectively gives him a thumbs up, shoves him out the door and are very very glad that they do not have to deal with any of this.
There is no recording, nor any true recollection, as to what Obi Wan Kenobi says to the Senate that day. Only at the end, the Kaminoan delegation (along with nearly 6000 other delegations) is crying with shame at their actions, Palpatine and a good half of his closest supporters are bleeding out of their facial orifices, and a bill has been passed giving the clones rights, pay and backpay, and a planet of their very own.
#bamf obi wan#star wars the clone wars#anakin skywalker#obi wan kenobi#sheev palpatine#codywan#star wars au#fanfiction prompt#Eldritch horror Obi Wan#Mentions of bleeding#Mentions of Ritual Suicide#Chaos Gremlin Obi Wan#no order 66#fix it au
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I initially lost a version of this blog to my own forgetfulness but I still really want to talk about this. And by this I mean Mamoru's identity struggle. And even more specifically,
Why remembering the Silver Millenium and The Golden Kingdom is so damn important to Mamoru Chiba.
And when I say important, I do not mean plot wise. I mean it is- but I'm referring to Mamoru's emotional need to know who he is.
Aight so first off, a disclaimer. I am not saying The awakening of Usagi as Princess Serenity is any less important... story wise. But it is less important as far as whether Usagi emotionally needed to remember. Don't get me wrong I will die on the hill that Serenity and Endymion/Usagi Tsukino and Mamoru Chiba are equals in every way in the story of Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon. But like the point of this blog is to show what remembering their past life meant for Usagi vs what it meant to Mamoru. But also total transparency here, Mamoru is my favorite character. So I'm about to write a potentially long-ass analysis on him. You were warned. Enjoy!
Ohhhh that's how you add a cut
So all that said;
Usagi starts off having had a very very normal, mundane life. She's got her parents, she's the older sister of a little brother always ready to pick on her for some good old sibling rivalry. She's got her friends Naru, those two girls that I was gonna flex knowing the names of but realized I don't actually remember. She's got Motoki Furuhata, a cute older guy that is eye candy as she plays games at her favorite arcade. She's going to school and fairing all right all things considered lol.
In Act 1, up until she meets the mysterious Luna a talking cat, Usagi has no reason to question her life. Like at all. But then not only does she encounter this cat, but she bumps into this guy for the first time and it's a mix of "Oh my God he's already the biggest jerk and why is he wearing a Tuxedo in the middle of the street at 2 in the afternoon? What a fricken weirdo??" And "why is my heart pounding out of my chest just from meeting him???" Which is only where she starts to question things. Oh and then obviously she receives the mission from Luna to become Sailor Moon.
Contrary to, Mamoru Chiba. This poor kid (and yes he is still a kid) has had anything but a normal life. His earliest memory is waking up in a hospital bed, on his 6th birthday, being told he was in a car accident and that his parents didn't survive. He had no memory of anything in his life prior, (I wonder if he even recognizes his parents in any photos he had) He literally had to be told what his name was. He ended up God knows where for almost 10 years (up to reader speculation because Naoko doesn't tell us and ooh people write fanfiction on this!) Be starts living alone in an apartment and as far as we've seen he has no friends and doesn't seek any out. But the good thing is he's a really really gifted kid, he's crazy intelligent and he's the perfect scholar. So he's able to get into one of the most elite schools in the country so he can have trajectory in his life.
But the thing is, Mamoru doesn't even know if he really is "Mamoru Chiba" he doesn't have any connection to that name. He can't even call it his identity. And he's had the same dream every night for all those years. The faceless figure of a beautiful woman who he can feel is important and she only leaves him with a single cryptic phrase every. Single. Night.
"Please, find the Legendary Silver Crystal"
and for a lot of those years all it does is haunt him and maybe comfort him at the same time. Until he reaches the age of 16. And Mamoru, for reasons he doesn't quite know himself, begins searching each place he can every night for this Silver Crystal, wearing attire that makes him look like a Gentleman Theif. Desperate to find what he has deemed the only way he will know who he really is, he commits crimes breaking into shops. Obviously he never steals anything because he is only after one thing and he'll know it when he sees it. When he's not moonlighting as a potential Crystal napper his nose is stuck inside books. Stacks of books about minerals. Researching anything that could lead him to that fricken Crystal.
And then one afternoon he goes to investigate a certain Jewelry store wearing his Tuxedo and a super cool pair of sunglasses. Only to be hit in the face with a wadded up sheet of paper. And encounters a loud, crybaby who apparently has impressively bad test scores. When he meets her his heart starts to race and then the racing calms while she turns away. He's got no clue what just happened but hey this store might have the crystal he's looking for!
So that same night he sneaks inside that shop, and unbeknownst to him there's a teenage girl fighting a monster woman and struggling... a lot. He sticks around to see the show and (I will actually be including 90s Mamo in this blog because he's part of the reason I returned to writing it in the first place) in the 90s anime he actively intervenes and throws his signature rose dart to assist her. After some time and prompting from some voice he doesn't know the origin of, this teenage girl who has just introduced herself as Sailor Moon impresses Mamoru. And she continues to impress him.
So let's talk about 90s real quick in one go.
SOS 90s Mamoru is not in control of when he transforms into Tuxedo Mask. Its like he becomes someone else. We do learn that Tuxedo Mask's transformation is triggered by the one of Sailor Moon. However, he's still had that dream every night. And eventually Mamoru becomes conscious of his alter ego and becomes more active in searching for the Silver Crystal. Even telling Sailor Moon that if it comes to it he will steal the Rainbow Crystals from her in order to obtain the Silver Crystal. He's also already falling for Sailor Moon at this point, and prior we were told that his blood tells him to protect her. He's drawn to her and he's certain its because they knew each other in a previous life. I have no clue how he could come to that conclusion with so little evidence but hey at least he's more aware than others.
So at this point its pretty dang obvious that Mamoru is desperate for any clue to his identity. When the time comes, and he (90s) does remember his past life as Mamoru, its like a weight is lifted off of him. He accepts it so readily.
Usagi... doesn't. Returning to her side. In 90s Usagi barely wants to be a Senshi and she isn't completely sold on Mamoru yet either. It takes the returning of her memories to accept him as Tuxedo Mask and Endymion. This is all so hard for her to accept, that she's a princess, that the love of her life was just taken from her in the same moment that she remembered him, that it is her duty to defeat the Dark Kingdom, its all too much that she definitely doesn't want to be part of. Because for her its like awakening as the Princess meant she was losing herself. Like this past life identity was overtaking her present one. She never asked to be Sailor Moon and she certainly didn't sign up for being a Princess destined to defeat some "dark kingdom". She's having more trouble accepting the "I'm a princess and its my duty as a senshi to fight evil" part than the "the love of my life was just taken away from me" part. Because really, what was missing in her life up until now? Why would she want to be anything more than the girl she is, living the life she's been living?
So back to Mamoru, it is no coincidence that when he is taken by the Dark Kingdom he goes by Dark Prince Endymion. Because the name Mamoru meant nothing to him before and it certainly doesn't mean anything now. He is Prince Endymion. This is who he always was. It isn't until he's reminded of his time with Usagi/Sailor Moon in her plea for him to return to her that he can accept both identities.
But. Then. He dies. And completely out of his control, he's reborn in the life he had before he regained his memories. He never became Tuxedo Mask, he hadn't met Sailor Moon but yet he still already encountered Usagi a while ago??? (I'm gonna be honest I have no idea how that plot makes sense for anyone but Usagi lol) But anyway, the wish Usagi made kiiiiiida took away Mamoru's identity. Was he even having dreams? Did he even have his memories of his parents? Where did his struggle with his identity go? When you think about how desperately important remembering that he was Endymion was to Mamoru, its so hard to imagine that he would have wanted to forget everything again. I mean his soul even refused to be apart from her. Literally. The embodiment of his desire to protect her, showed up in place of Tuxedo Mask. I think if he were given the chance to properly reunite with her as things were instead of letting Usagi make a wish to live normally but be separated a third time, He would have gladly taken it. Also shout out to @tiny012 for bringing this up in one of their blogs which is what reminded me I wanted to return to the topic 👍
Alright so let's circle back to how the manga handles this:
Manga Mamoru is quicker to piece things together, and because of this, the progression leading to his and Usagi's memories returning is much faster pace. First off. Man figures out Usagi Tsukino is Sailor Moon in Act 3. Because she transforms right in front of him lol. Second, man is hopelessly in love with Usagi by Act 4. Thirdly, he himself puts the events in motion to reveal his secret identity, his goals, and his apartment (haha I'm so funny) to Usagi in act 7. By the end of act 7 the two are very much in love on a mutual level. They do not recall the Silver Millenium yet. When they do recall their memories, it isn't a shock to either of them. Let me repeat that. Its not shocking. Its not like 90s Usagi who only barely came to terms that this "jerk" was also her beloved Tuxedo Mask who just took a knife to the back for her, and was ALSO a man she considered her lover in a past life. No no no.
When M and U regain their memories in the manga, everything becomes clear to them. Because it explains why they were already so in love. Because it means they found each other again just like they wished and promised they would. I mean the words they say to each other in Act 9 say it all.
"Endymion..? Oh... that's... my name! Of course, I was reborn into this life as Mamoru Chiba. I came back all so I could be with you again. I found you... Serenity, my love"
"I remember you, Endymion my one true love.... We finally found each other again. Is this fate? I never told you anything about myself! I never told you my true feelings! Tuxedo Mask!"
(Paraphrased from both manga and Crystal dub)
Let me draw attention to the difference in these lines.
Usagi's realization is one in which her sole focus is Mamoru. The beautiful man she loves that she'd give anything to be with. She remembers that he's also Endymion. But to her current self, he's first and foremost Tuxedo Mask. Tuxedo Mask/Mamo-chan is who she fell in love with in this life as Usagi. And she's desperate for him to awaken so she can share this life with him.
Mamoru has just found the final piece to the puzzle he couldn't complete since he was a child. "Oh, That's my name!" It is the moment of self discovery that's he's been searching for all this time. And he found it in the girl he fell for not just in this lifetime but also his last and his last words are of relief that he finally found his princess again.
During the time that the two are separated, Usagi goes through physical changes. And its stated that because of her awakening she's becoming more like the princess. But she doesn't want that. She feels like the more she remembers about being the princess the less she becomes herself. All Usagi ever wanted was to be happy with Mamoru. She only ever wanted to be a normal girl but ever since becoming Sailor Moon she's been questioning which is her true self. As far as she's concerned, she is just Usagi and he's just Mamoru and she wants to be with him.
When they are reunited, things change specifically for Mamoru. He develops powers he did not have before, he regained his incredible powers to connect deeply with the Earth his beloved planet. He becomes much less introverted, even spends time with his underclassmen at school and confidently encourages aspiring students to attend.
So before this gets any longer than it is already my point to this blog is this:
Usagi doesn't fully accept being Princess Serenity outside of her love for Endymion because she already had a separate identity before awakening. She didn't need nor want a different life. When she remembered the time of the Silver Millenium, it changed everything Usagi thought she knew about herself.
Mamoru feels relief and gratitude for remembering the time of the Silver Millenium because he had nothing for so so long. The search for who he was, the mysterious girl who had appeared in his dreams for 10 years, he had all the answers now. And what's more, those answers lead him to the love of his life.
(I'd go into the Golden Kingdom side but its 2am and I gotta force myself out of bed really early tomorrow. Plus this is already a chore to scroll through LOL)
So ye if you read this far, you either really love Mamoru (and Usagi because this is technically an analysis on both of them lol) or you were bored and avoiding sleep by whatever means nessacary (same though) but seriously if you did read all that nonsense I love you thank you so much 😭
Also to anyone who wants to do more analysis and show me up in a spectacular way in the reblogs, you are more than welcome to in fact please do lol
#sailor moon#pretty guardian sailor moon#manga#mamoru chiba#usagi tsukino#mamoru chiba analysis#usagi tsukino analysis#90s sailor moon#mamousa#usamamo
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I am sorry but I need to say a couple of things about Brad Bakshi, even though I haven't finished season 3 yet. I am not attacking anyone's characterization, let your headcanons and interpretations thrive, but I want to share my take because sometimes it's like I watched a different show.
I either find takes that are "Brad is a lovey-dovey tsundere" or "Brad is a fuckboy, no attachment, he doesn't do feelings". And man, I do not agree with either. It's something in the middle for me.
First of all, Brad is way more caring than some people give him credit for and I will prove it.
He may be an asshole, but he is completely self-aware of it. Poppy, Ian, even David think they're good people, even whan they do or say very questionable things, Brad knows he is being a bastard. He never hides it, never tries to put up an "holier than thou" act, never tries to make people believe he is a good guy. He doesn't try hiding that is an asshole because deliberately acts like one. He wants to be seen as an asshole. He goes out of his fucking way to prove it.
Turning himself in at the end of season 2? "Oh, but it gave him street credi-" it's pretty convenient he wanted street credit when going to jail could also be beneficial to Jo. Otherwise he could have straight up done inside trading himself way before Jo put herslef in trouble.
The whole animal thing? The fact that he was a mouse? Let's pretend for a moment he actually filled it randomly, he happened to get mouse by mistake. Why do you care so much people do not associate you to a mouse? If you're an unforgiving asshole, it will show even if a random test (that people will probably soon forget about) gave you mouse. Look, let's say I make Donald Trump fill out this test and he comes out as a mouse. I will not stop thinking he is a piece of shit! If the test was so meaningless he filled it out randomly (or so he says), why does he care so much about Jo's opinion on it?
Brad is a performative asshole. He does his job in the less nice way possible, but he never sabotages others just because. He tries with that whole buscuit thing, but that's the most damage he causes to someone and it's thrashing a piece of biscuit and give an evil speech that just hans there. Rest of the show? He always ends up helping out people, if not out of kindness, out of understanding every cog needs to fuction properly for the whole Mythic Quest machine to work. He doesn't go out of his way to damage other people, the worst he does? Mean comments. It's performative. It's all performative.
And you know how I know that? Breaking Brad. The Kate story tells us one thing: Brad is a naturally caring person. Kate was a pig. Not a dog, not a cat, not a turtle, not even a fish, animals we are used to consider as pets. Kate was a pig, an animal considered dirty, ugly, ungraceful (fat, but I will not talk about Brad's ED here), the word "pig" is even used as an insult, plus the pig is famously known as the animal you can kill and not waste a single part of it.
A pig is the perfect animal to impart a lesson of cruelty. You don't feel sorry for a pig. And what does Brad do, with this wretched creature? He names her. Zack doesn't, Zack tells us he was on board with killing the pig, it's Brad who can't do it. Zack doesn't care and Brad cares too much, even when he knew Kate's fate was doomed from the start. Right there, you have a character who, despite being taught to be cruel, can't help but care.
"Oh, but this happened when Brad was a kid, he hardened as he grew up" okay, then how do you explain him begging Zack? The thing is, I do believe Brad wanted to get more out of Mythic Quest and was angry bis brother tried to destroy it, I am not saying "Brad is caring because he doesn't want to lose his job", that's fairly normal. The point is, Zack asks him to beg for it, and Brad does. I have seen characters in more desperate situations refuse to plea, but Brad does it. With less resistence than I would have imagined. Instead of being like "I would never beg you, I will not submit myself to this humiliation, I'll find another job", he grovels. He puts his pride second for a company which he will leave the moment his friend Jo (and if I say colleague instead of friend it's even crazier!) is in danger.
Quickly compare it to David asking a whole company to walk out when he gets fired.
Brad is a performative asshole. He didn't have it in him, he taught himself to act and speak like an asshole, and he learned the part well, but his heart is not in it. If you watch Succession, it's like Kendall, he is not a killer. He can pretend to be killer, but he is not.
So now it seems like I said people who view Brad a repressed lovey-dovey tsundere are right, but just wait, i haven't finished yet.
The thing about teaching yourself to be someone else is that first, some habits stick, second, what doesn't stick, you try harder to make it so.
What I mean is, precisely because Brad is a caring person, he tries very hard not to seem like it. It means that if someone shows him kindness, Brad will refuse to accept it twice as hard, because he is fighting towards a natural instinct to show kindness in return.
Someone finally lends Brad a helping hand? For the exact reason he feels like he wants to take it, he'll turn it down. It's not that he is not touched by that care, it's that he can't afford to show it. That's the whole point of the performative assholery, repressing his natural responses.
I see a lot of someone pays Brad a compliment and he blushes because he doesn't know how to take it, but to me is like no! He doesn't blush! The whole point of fighting his own instincts is that he doesn't show his feelings. It's not that he doesn't know what kindness is so he reacts to it like a caveman would react to a computer, he knows exactly what kindness, care and affection are and he deliberately avoids them.
To me Brad doesn't do feelings because he doesn't want to. Brad fights his natural instincts because they're very strong (so he is lovey-dovey on the inside), but, at the same time, that fight implies a lot of trained resistance to his nature (Brad doesn't want to do feelings).
Being an asshole doesn't come natural to Brad and that's why it's so difficult for him to act kind: because being an asshole is not a random trait of his personality he may be willing to change, it's a carefully crafted mask he doesn't want to get rid of.
It's the difference between explaining something to someone who doesn't understand it and someome who doesn't want to understand it.
And one last thing (because you kidded yourself if you thought this wasn't about Braddavid).
I get that, especially at first, especially to keep that mask on, even if Brad had feelings for David he would take a long time before admitting it and I can see him reluctant to put a label to the relationship, because that would be admitting that he cares.
But let me take you back to Brad begging his brother to leave Mythic Quest alone. The moment he senses David might slip up from his fingers (for whataver reason: David might have found somebody else more emotionally available, is growing tired/sad of Brad's emotional distance, etc.) Brad is Back On. Brad is putting the effort to verbalize his feelings, is putting a name on the relationship and, one day, he'd even be willing to put a ring on it. He is "Everything I’ve ever let go of has claw marks on it" coded and you can argue you with the wall.
(Plus, I feel like, exactly like his performative assholery mainly comes from mean comments, he may not be very affectionate when it comes to words of affirmation, but by his behaviour you can tell he cares. He is all about quality time, acts of service and gifts he diguises as not gifts. He tries to be subtle, but he can't help revealing in someway he cares about people).
If Brad could beg his brother, one the people he hates the most in the world, to let him have Mythic Quest for a while more, he could surely find the courage to tell the person he loves that he loves them. "But his pride-" he flushed his pride down the toilet when it became an obstacle to him. He came back to his old company as a janitor, which sadly many people do not considered to be a valuable job, especially since he used to be the Head of Monetization before. He had none of that "oh my God, this job is not well paid or respected enough for my previous standards" crap. He is way less prideful than a lot of people think. Getting where he wants to go, obtaining what he wants to gain is way more important to him than his pride.
Last note, this man in possessive. And I don't necessarily mean in a toxic, abusive way, but you can't deny that he is. He wants to own people, he probably rarely calls in favours from them because he gets high on how long he can own them. The "Everything I’ve ever let go of has claw marks on it" comes back into the play, this man is jealous. Again, of course this was about Braddavid, shame on you if you didn't catch it, but I have seen too many "David is too affectionate, Brad is aloof and cool" and I don't buy it.
Brad may not be into PDA, and he may not show it with words, but when he is in a committed relationship he is committed. He may say it's casual, but this is just like Kate. No matter how many times he tells himself he won't get attached to a person and that every relationship ends, at the end of the day, if he truly cares about that person, he won't be able to kill the relationship like it was nothing and go on with his life. I cannot imagine him breaking up with someone because "oh no, I am getting too involved", that's the whole point, he cannot do that, or he'd be a killer, he would have been able to kill Kate and let go of Mythic Quest and let Jo end up in jail. Even if he did break up with this person, it wouldn't come natural to him and he would an absolute wreck, haunted by the memory of this person like he is haunted by the memory of Kate.
It's the duality here! Brad's all about the duality, nature and (self) nurture fighting one against the other. And I have mainly found stuff in which this duality is not shown.
If you made it to this point, thank you for indulging me in overanalysing this character, have a wonderful day.
P.S. I forgot to mention, Brad totally watches those animal predators video for desensitization. Because he couldn't kill Kate so he teaches himself to be insensitive to animal cruelty. The kid who couldn't harm his pig is not watching animal on animal violence for kicks and giggles.
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No one asked for this but I am going to say it anyways because this blog is nothing more than my personal diary and nothing really matters
So, the truth is (this is not surprising to people who know me irl) that I was never really a huge Taylor fan. In fact, I used to side with Kanye in the entire Taylor/Kanye situation. I mainly sided with Kanye because I used to dance hiphop (fun fact, I was the national champion) and so his genre of music was what I had grown up with and was used to since its more hiphop dance-friendly.
What's even more embarrassing is that I didn't even become a true swiftie until after Taylor went on the Eras Tour in the US. I had no idea she was going on tour. In fact, the reason I turned into a proper swiftie was because I saw a clip on tiktok of one specific moment on her tour, performing one specific part of a song.
The clip was short, perhaps 50 seconds long, less than a minute, but it made me burst into tears.
My first throught was: what the fuck is this??? Is this Taylor Swift??? What the fuck is going on????
Because bursting into tears is not my usual reaction to music (well, it didn't use to be, at least).
I was never again able to find the exact clip I saw. It still haunts me to this day. I remember it so clearly, the emotion in it and how it made me sob in a way I haven't since I was a child.
All it took was fifty seconds.
I never found it again. But it looked a little something like this:
This is why My Tears Ricochet is my all-time favorite Taylor song. It mainly has to do with the fact that this song forced me to dig deeper.
That clip ended after 50 seconds and I sat there with tear streaked cheeks and asked the empty room surrounding me, "What the hell just happened?" And then I asked the hollowness around me, "Why? Why did it happen?"
None of the answers to the questions I once asked matter anymore. Because those questions forced me to listen.
It forced me to let go of my pre-conceived notion of who Taylor Swift was, and truly listen.
It resulted in me finding the album this song belongs to (Folklore) and listen to every single track, one by one, while reading the lyrics.
I desperately wanted to know that what had happened during those 50 seconds of watching a tiktok was an anomaly. That they would never happen again.
But then I listened to the entire album. And it kept happening.
Again. And again. And again. And again.
It happened with not only My Tears Ricochet, but also with Peace, with The 1, The Last Great American Dynasty and The Lakes. It happened with Seven, and Mad Woman, Exile, and This Is Me Trying.
So I had stumbled into a major problem. I had stumbled upon something that was due to rattle my entire belief system and the was I saw the world.
Because how could I love Taylor Swift?
She sings Love Story and You Belong With Me; both and more, songs that are just inherently not me.
It is impossible that she could possibly affect me and make me feel like this.
It just doesn't happen. It isn't possible.
But in my delusion, I moved on to Evermore. And that is when the old part of me died, for good. I was already dying, but I wasn't aware, not completely, until Evermore.
That is when I realized the only reasonable thing I could do, was to let go of my entire belief system.
Because yes, there is no way "You Belong With Me" Taylor Swift could have written this piece that made me cry and ache in a way that no musical piece ever has before.
I was right about that.
Because "You Belong With Me" Taylor Swift didn't write it.
It was written by the version of Taylor Swift who had evolved during the 10+ years I had refused to listen to her.
And she was and continues to be absolutely breathtakingly, earth-shatteringly beautiful. In a way that I wish she wouldn't be, because it makes me question everything about myself. Over, and over, and over again, with every single track I listen to.
I am now at a point where you could not play a single track she has ever made, that I would not recognize within the first ten seconds of listening to it. It's been about a year since I first truly discovered her, and this is where I'm at.
And I don't know whether that's normal, or right, or wrong, but I feel it. I feel her words.
And who are we really, to question ourselves in something like that?
Perhaps human.
#taylor swift#taylor nation#swiftie#kanye west#folklore#folklore long pond studio sessions#my tears ricochet#tiktok#taylor
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hypothetically Ratchet has ever attempted to create the "happy pills" for make himself feel better?
𝙸𝚊𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚊𝚗 𝙼𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚆𝚒𝚗𝚐-
𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚂𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛: 𝙳𝚘𝚌. 𝙵𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝙰𝚒𝚍
𝚃𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚂𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝙲𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚌-
━━▲━━
I apologize beforehand for responding on behalf of my mentor, but I do not believe his mental state would benefit from seeing this particular query. Not to mention I think Prime would also be... distraught if he noticed this question. So I have decided to answer in Doctor Ratchet's stead. I am sorry if you wished to hear from him.
Now to answer your question, Doctor Ratchet has and continues to make pills composed of type six emotional suppressors. Its a highly addictive drug and has increadible effects in dulling negative emotional responses through increasing the production of calming nerve alerts and electrical currents. He makes them himself and does not have any sort of dealer. He takes what he needs from the pharmacy and no one stops him because no one wants to get on his bad side. He's not just the CMO, he's also the Primal Steward. Doctor Ratchet knows this, and so he really isn't all that worried about hiding what he is collecting from the labs or cleaning his digit prints from the pill machine.
Its an open secret, but one every single one of us medics have agreed to keep quiet outside the clinic. Things are so very fragile right now... we can't afford to have Doctor Ratchet break. I am hoping things will get better now that Prime is back. Since his return, my mentor has decreased his drug intake by over 75% and only consumes his homemade medication whenever Prime is gone for too long doing something or other. His smoking has also become less aggressive and he only seems to drink whenever he is particularly stressed. He hasn't visited the labs to make more of his drugs in over a stellar cycle, so I am praying that this is the change my mentor has been needing for a long time.
It would be better if Prime was more attentive though. My mentor is rather cruel toward Orion Pax, even though it goes against medical protocol... I have had to remove dangerous amounts of prescription drugs from Archivist Pax's medication more times than I care to count. I have also had to get rid of more than one disturbing note from my mentor which occasionally are attached to the medication in question. I don't understand why or know all the details, but Doctor Ratchet has been hurting for a very long time and has hurt everyone around him too. I do what I can to mitigate the damage because I know that deep down Doctor Ratchet is a GOOD mech.
He's just hurt. I know what that is like. All us war veterans do. Autobots stand together, especially medics. I don't like what my mentor is doing, but I am going to keep taking care of him as much as I am able. He needs it. I hope to try and get Prime's attention soon and direct him toward Doctor Ratchet. My mentor has been desperate for interaction with Prime. I think even a blind mech could see that.
I have a feeling they will work it out with time and that because of it, Doctor Ratchet will get better. Already his complexion has improved and his vitals have begun running stronger. It's almost like Prime's return gave my mentor back a piece of his spark. He seems younger now, or at least more energetic. Its a little off-putting, but I would never dare call it a bad thing. The fact that Doctor Ratchet hasn't picked up his disguised drug bottle in over a deca-cycle tells me that this really is a good thing for him, even if Prime is a bit absent more often than not.
Until I receive an invitation to their Conjunxing ceremony, I will keep praying for them every recharge cycle.
━━▲━━
𝙳𝚘𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝙵𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝙰𝚒𝚍
#maccadam#transformers prime au#transformers#transformers prime#two sides to a coin au#ratchet#first aid#first aid intervention
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