#i think it’s some left over ‘stranger danger’ kinda thing
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re: not being anonymous on twitter
#idk why it makes me so nervous to let anybody on here know/see who i am though???#it’s not as if i don’t share any personal stuff on here (i for sure do.. even more than on twitter) but it still would feel so weird#like y’all aren’t really real to me on here lmao and that’s a good thing!!! i’m not really real either#but showing my face???? and like my real life persona???? that’s a lot#it’s funny bc i used to show my face on here a lot many years ago#i had like two mutuals and like . didn’t care tbh#(it did attract some weird people though) and i stopped when i got into other (read: active) fandoms#because i felt embarrassed lmao but in the end idk#i think it’s some left over ‘stranger danger’ kinda thing#anyway if this ends up going down i’ll share my twitter and ig with mutuals who want it#and that’ll be that.
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You and Miguel get into an argument and You wanna do anything possible to not think about it.
Not a smut, a part is lightly suggestive not that much idk
You sighed as you already knew Miguel wasn't coming back anytime soon. He was gonna stay in the headquarters, swarming himself with work and putting more stress on his shoulders, just to not deal with the argument.
You knew him, his way of handling things, he ignored them, then he came back without talking about it and everything was back to normal. It was a simple cycle, you were used to it. But the endless nights you spent crying as he left you home alone, without no comfort, you were tired so you decided to take a different approach.
Miguel was at the headquarters, as you had your phone to your ear, talking to one of your girlfriends excitedly. "Call me when you get here" you chimed before hanging the phone up continuing putting your makeup on.
Finishing your makeup, you look at yourself in the mirror and you looked absolutely amazing. You and your girlfriends had planned to go to the club together, this being your coping mechanism for this argument with Miguel, you'd try your best to not think about him.
You already heard honking outside meaning the night had finally begun, applying some perfume before running outside the apartment you and Miguel owned. Locking it quickly and going down the stairs, exiting the building and getting in your girlfriends car
You got to the club and went to the bar to get some drinks. Talking to a random guy that had already bought you half of your drinks, it was pretty evident that the guy was flirting, but you went with it, anything to not think about Miguel. You felt your phone vibrating in your purse, turning it on to see Miguel calling you, which surprised you, maybe he was gonna apologize? Or stop with the stupid silent treatment and come home. But you decided that should just ignore him, like he does to you, so he could feel how you felt.
You turned off your phone and kept talking with the guy, ignoring the phone that was blowing up like crazy. Getting bored from the guy you excused yourself from him and went to floor, dancing to the song, before hearing your ringtone again. With a sigh you went to a corner and picked up.
"Hey, I saw that you've been calling me, I have no service at the club, sorry" you quickly explained with a bitter tone "Donde estás?" Miguel asked, completely ignoring the fact you just mentioned it a second ago, he didn't believe you until he listened closely to the background noise. "I can't hear you I'm kinda busy" you say hurriedly before hanging up on him as you rolled your eyes, the purpose of being here was to get him off your head, not for him to be the main thing on your thoughts right now.
You looked over at the dance floor, seeing your girlfriends calling you over to dance, you quickly rushed over since your favorite song was playing. You started dancing ignoring the phone as Miguel blew up your texts, another call came in, you answered thinking if you answered it he would stop.
"Look, i can't text you with a drink my hand, eh?" You say at the phone, your voice almost not being audible by the loud music. "Why are you at club?" Miguel questioned angrily, his fast breathing being noticible through the speaker. "Shouldn't have left me hanging after the argument Miguel." You retort with a snort, you couldn't with him, not right now.
"Now, I'm kinda busy." You remarked coldly at man before hanging up. Shoving the phone back in your purse, you kept dancing until a fairly attractive guy started dancing with you, you both being dangerously too close. If Miguel where to see this, this mere guy, a stranger with his beloved, he'd turn this guy into dust, right there.
Miguel quickly changed himself and got to the very same club you where at, no way was he gonna let you out there, mad at him and not afraid to do anything. He couldn't let someone else touch you, you were his, and only his.
He entered the club, to be greeted by the sight of you and that guy, being too close even for your own liking. Miguel scoffed at your actions making his way to you, pushing his way through the crowd of dancing strangers.
He finally got to you, shoving the guy away and placing his hands on your hips, as you hadn't notice that he was there.
You felt bigger hands on your hips as a breath left your lips as you felt Miguel's face in your neck. "Almost beat the guy to death" he said calmly in your neck as he caressed your hips slowly. Gradually sinking his fangs into your neck.
"Maybe this way people will know you're mine, mhm? That you have an owner" he whispered in your ear as he turned you over face him. He pulled your chin for you to look up at him, "You had me worried..." He sighed as he looked deep in your eyes with a frown. "I'm sorry for arguing earlier, I'll stop with how i treat you after our arguments, mhm?" He stated with a small smile before kissing you tenderly.
I'm cfyin this is so shit and i love ATSV smmmm give me some asks or sum idc anything
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Danny’s Journal or A Countdown to the Beginning
Summary: A look into the year leading up to the accident from the perspective of a forgotten journal.
February 9, 2002
Dear journal. Mom and Dad said they had a surprise for me and Jazz when we get home from school. Please God don't let it be another ghost gun or something. My hair is still singed from the last one.
Update. It was, in fact, a gun. Jazz now has a mild burn on her arm and is screaming how they need therapy. Not disagreeing but I don't think it's going to happen.
February 12, 2002
Dear journal. Happy birthday. A year ago Jazz gave you to me for my birthday. How my parents haven't accidentally destroyed you I don't know.
Me Tucker, Sam, and Jazz went out to eat for my birthday. Sam even had her family driver take us a town over to try that new restaurant. Well, that's what their excuse was. I think they were trying to get me out of the house for a little bit since Mom and Dad are going on a rampage through the house disassembling all the appliances. It's 10 pm and I can still hear noise coming from the basement.
March 26, 2002
I have the best idea for an April Fools prank. It involves chez whiz and glitter.
April 1, 2002
The prank worked like a charm. The jocks are going to smell like cheese for weeks. And they ain't ever getting the glitter out.
On the downside. Dash broke my arm and Mom and Dad put a “Fenton Anti-ghost Cast” on me. It kinda glows and makes my arm feel weird.
April 23, 2002
Sam’s birthday party was a glorious disaster this year. Her mom decided to do a princess-themed party. We have been preparing for this day since Sam found one of her mom’s work journals. We managed to sneak paint and glitter bombs into the venue before anyone got there. We even managed to get one on each of the chandeliers. It was awesome. Everyone got covered in black paint and red glitter.
What we didn’t account for was Grandma Ida hiring professional snake handlers to bring in a bunch of snakes for Sam. The snakes were non-venomous and luckily were all caught after one of the rich people bumped into the table that the snake cage was on. And the paint was non-toxic so it was easy to clean off the snakes too without them getting sick. Still kinda feel bad that the snakes got caught in the crossfire though.
May 20, 2002
🎵Schools out for the summer!🎵 Lol this is going to be so exciting. Our last summer as middle schoolers. Nothing but the big leagues after this!
June 13, 2002
Dad wants to go camping for Father's Day so we're going to head out tomorrow morning. Think I heard them mention Lake Arrowhead. That'll be cool. Haven't fished there before.
June 15, 2002
I don't know how but we're in Gotham. Apparently, there's some stupid ghost conversation going on so we're going to be stuck here for the next week. On the pulse side though I found a really cool cafe not too far from the hotel. And they don’t seem to care if you just hang out as long as their not busy and you buy something. Me and Jazz will probably be spending a lot of time here or at their library. It’s huge and has an entire section of space!
June 16, 2002
Turns out I'm allergic to something called Blood Blossoms. Mom and Dad ended up having some guy try to cleanse me of “the evil spook” after I accidentally brushed up against the flowers he had on his table. Jazz had to convince them to get me to the hospital. Luckily one of the guys walking around had an epi pen. So that helped. Still sucks and now I'm stuck at the hotel while Jazz frets like a mother hen. I don't think she's even realized that she has a rash on her hand from when she threw the flowers away from me.
June 19, 2002
So… Batman is real… wtf? He apparently has some questions for Mom and Dad but they haven't come back yet. He apologized to me and Jazz for waking us up and gave us suckers? Which. Weird. And Jazz threw them away when he left because “stranger danger is still a thing even if they are a hero”. RIP little Root Beer flavored DumDum. You will be missed.
And on the other hand, Robin was pretty cool. He's snarky and brave and hilarious and he is just so cool. 10/10 New favorite Robin. He even gave me a book recommendation for the report I'm supposed to turn in at the start of freshman year.
June 22, 2002
We were supposed to leave Gotham today. We were supposed to finally head to one of the lakes on the way home to do some camping and fishing. We were supposed to have a relaxing time. So please journal. Can you tell me why the giant wannabe scaly just threw the GAV? Now we are going to be stuck in this stupid city for another week while Mom and Dad fix it.
June 24, 2002
I made a new friend! Do you remember that cafe I talked about a few days ago? Well, I met a guy there. His name is Jason. He’s an absolute lit nerd but is way cool. The guy’s got muscles underneath his school uniform too. The guy looks like he could snap me like a twig yet isn’t at all like Dash. Hopefully, we can keep in contact after we head back to Amity. For now, we are planning on meeting up at the cafe tomorrow with our favorite books. I found “Star Stories”at the library so I’m bringing it with me. I don’t know if he likes stars but I hope he likes some of the stories about them.
July 9, 2002
Finally back at home. Dad had smuggled fireworks into the GAV (how they didn’t explode when KC threw it in Gotham idk) so we spent the 4th of July shooting them off at the lake. We ended up going to Lake Erie for the camping trip because Mom heard something at the convention about a ghost hanging out around there. Didn’t see any ghosts but the fishing was good. I even caught a bass the size of my head! All around it was really fun! Oh and the stars were so clear! The Summer Triangle was so clear you could point out Vega, Deneb, and Altair! It was so cool! Did you know that Vega is in the Lyra constellation? Or Deneb is in the Cygnus Constellation. And Altair is a part of the Aquila constellation!
Maybe I should ask if Mom and Dad could get me another journal for charting the stars. I’ll need the practice if I want to become an astronaut.
July 29, 2002
It’s a good thing that I got two of everything when me, Sam, and Tucker went shopping for school supplies. I got a lot of new space-themed stuff but the moment I got home Dad insisted on ghost-proofing my new backpack… It melted. I don’t even know how he managed to melt a canvas bag. It didn’t even catch fire first. Just started melting the moment Dad started spraying his new “Fenten Ecto-Rejecto Spray” on it. Wtf Dad.
On the plus side, Sam found a new coffin backpack and Tucker was able to get a new bag that had a pouch that he can put the walkman he got yesterday for his birthday. He is so hyped about it.
August 6, 2002
School starts next week and I am so hyped. Finally going to be a high schooler. Cool Kids Club here we go!
August 15, 2002
Kill me now. May the Gods strike me down and end my suffering. May the Faits find me lacking and cut my string. May the Crone tear me from the tapestry, the mother rejects my thread from the loom and the maiden take the wool of my youth and set it aside.
Sam has just informed me that that isn’t quite what the Mother, Maiden, and Crone do but whatever. Just know that everything sucks because apparently someone called the house phone and told Mom and Dad that there was a ghost in the school. The A-listers are blaming me for ruining their high school debut.
August 30, 2002
Mom and Dad have started making more noise in the lab than normal. It’s gotten to the point that Jazz has been spending more time at the library to study. Speaking of Jazz, she has been obsessing over self-help and psychology books lately. I mean. Jazz has always talked up therapy but now she’s kinda getting snooty about it. Sam suggested we start hanging out at that gazebo thingy at the park so we can get our work done on the nicer days. We’ll have to hang at Tucker's place though on the rainy days. Sam’s parents have decided that it’s time to put their foot down and get Sam to “socialize with your actual peers Sammy-kins so that you can make better connections and start networking” or whatever. So basically Sam’s mom doesn’t want her to be associated with us plebs I guess.
September 8, 2002
Mom and Dad repurposed the fridge so they could put samples in it. Apparently, the one in the lab broke. The green stuff in the tubes kinda creeps me out. Jazz is yelling at them about it. I kinda agree. Cross-contamination anyone? Think I’m gonna eat out at Nasty more often.
September 28, 2002
Either I’m going crazy or the leftover chicken and noodle soup in the fridge was moving. Like the noodles were wiggling around like worms or something. Jazz ordered pizza.
October 5, 2002
There are new wires in the house now and they glow? Mom said that they had some sort of breakthrough and are using the samples that they have to coat some of the tech in the house to “ecto-proof” it. Apparently, the ectoplasm doesn’t like electronics so they weren’t really able to mix it with tech too well. Some of Mom’s blueprints look like Star Wars blasters. Dad’s are less impressive.
October 29, 2002
Mom and Dad have locked me and Jazz in our rooms because of the “Ghost Menaces”. Me and Jazz have both taped warning signs on our windows so some brave trick-or-treaters don’t accidentally get hurt.
November 1, 2002
The signs worked but I saw Mom and Dad taking off in the GAV around midnight. Whatever. Me and Tucker did manage to reach a new level in DOOM last night so that was cool. And it’s World Vegan Day today so Sam is going to take us out to eat at a vegan place for dinner. I have no clue what Tucker’s going to eat. Well probably get it to-go so he can get something.
I found out where Mom and Dad went last night. The cops showed up and gave Mom and Dad a ticket for destroying a part of the park's water fixture. Someone had organised a haunted forest thing in the park and my parents went absolute ape.
November 2, 2002
Who told Mom and Dad about Dia de Los Muertos? Or that there was a little remembrance celebration/party thing going on today because of it? I’ve decided to make deviled eggs in protest of their chaos and have also bought candy skulls to eat.
November 18, 2002
Apparently, there is an Occult Day(?) and Sam insists we spend the day researching cults. Tucker has found a tech cult online that says there is “Techno Magic” and he is now trying to learn it. Sam has found a book of curses and has been giggling since she found it. Sam giggling is terrifying. I am concerned.
November 28, 2002
The turkey came to life and attacked us. Mom and Dad are blaming ghosts but me and Jazz agree that this is totally their fault for putting the stupid ecto in the fridge. At least the rest of the food was edible. I mean. It had a kinda glowing but I haven’t gotten sick yet. So yay?
November 29, 2002
So the food wasn’t good and I ended up getting sick this morning. fml Jazz is mad that I ate some of it. I am fully aware of what food safety is Jazz. But I was hungry and after the turkey, I was just tired and hangry. I had no clue you had ordered pizza so :p
December 5, 2002
On the 5th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me! Nothing because my family is insane. Mom and Dad are already starting their yearly Santa argument. Sam and Tuck are both out of town to visit family for the holidays, Jazz is avoiding the house because it’s “disruptive to my mental development” and I’m grounded for yelling at Dad when he burst into my room and accidentally made my little Rover fall off the shelf and brake.
December 9, 2002
Mom and Dad’s insanity is ramping up. They almost never leave the lab now and whenever I try to bring food down to them they either just mumble and keep working or start arguing again. The whole in the wall has a frame now too.
December 24, 2002
I made a mistake when I brought Mom and Dad their dinner today. In my defense, I was just tired of them yelling about Santa. So I asked why they had hazmat suits but me and Jazz didn’t if ecto was so dangerous. Because if it’s that dangerous then the fact we have ecto in the fridge means that we should all have suits. Jazz is furious with me cause now our parents are making us try on our new suits tomorrow. I am terrified of whatever monstrosity they create no matter how “fashionable” Dad claims they will be.
December 25, 2002
It’s worse than I thought. Mine’s white.
January 15, 2003
Gods, I hate this. I’ve been sick for the past week and Jazz says we’re almost out of soup. I keep going back and forth between being hungry and puking up whatever Jazz feeds me. Mom says that she has some tea that may help but when Dad brought it up it tasted funny. It did make me feel a little better but it just had a really weird taste. Dad said it’s just because I’m sick so everything tastes funny right now.
January 19, 2003
Is it weird that I want to lick the ecto in the fridge? I’m pretty sure it is but it still kinda looks lickable to me. Like how you know that D batteries are not edible but almost everyone has licked one at some point?
Jazz just gave me a lecture about putting things in my mouth that I shouldn’t… Again…
January 27, 2003
Jazz scared me this morning. I walked into the kitchen this morning and just saw glowing eyes. Like a cat’s eyes in the dark. Jazz thinks I’m hallucinating from lack of sleep because of the all-nighter I pulled with Tuck trying to pass the next level on DOOM but I swear that her eyes were glowing.
February 9, 2003
I’m starting to worry. I know they're obsessed with their dumb portal but they haven’t eaten in 2 days. Jazz is planning on going down there and persuading (yelling at them) them to eat if they don’t come up for dinner tonight.
February 12, 2003
Happy Birthday to me. I am now 14 years old. Mom and Dad forgot it was my birthday again. They ran into the kitchen this morning because they completed their portal. They even dragged me and Jazz down into the lab to see them turn it on before we went to school. It didn’t work and now Mom and Dad are going to take a drive around town to clear their heads. They probably won’t be back until dinner time. Sam and Tucker are coming over after school though so at least it will be quiet while they are over. And I think Jazz is going to make a cake if the box of mix I saw her trying to hide from me yesterday is any indication.
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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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But anyway, Stranger Things Steve and Robin story where things are Pretty Bad in Hawkins for a while after season 4, to the tune of regular monster incursions and more bumps and bruises and stitches and possible concussions than generally standard
and maybe six months in, after graduation, as Hawkins has come up with more and more unlikely stories to try and pretend that they're not sitting athwart a rising apocalypse, after Robin has deferred college for a year, if they all even live that long, because she loves Steve with every last corner of her heart and she won't, can't leave him here
and it's been another bumpy week in a string of bumpy weeks, and Steve doesn't have another concussion, thank god, but Mike needed seventeen stitches and Nancy has a new burn scar curling up over her left shoulder--
Robin goes to find Steve somewhere in the middle of the third load of laundry in the house where his parents haven't set foot since the "earthquakes" happened. Where she has her own permanent guest room, but just crawls in with Steve most nights anyway, because she cannot handle going home to face her own parents and their questions and their 'constructive criticism' and their attempts to be helpful any more.
And she just immediately starts pacing, back and forth across the basement while Steve tries to fold yet another fitted sheet that she could definitely be helping him with, and she says,
"So look, I have been having this really crazy idea, and I need you to tell me that it's a crazy idea, and I should just forget it, except that every time I try to think down that path I keep thinking of reasons that it's not a crazy idea, and it's actually a really good idea with very minimal drawbacks, at least in the near or foreseeable future, and if it ever does start to have drawbacks we can just undo it, because Indiana's had a no-fault divorce law since 1973, and all we'd have to do would be filing some paperwork, and you're just looking at me like I'm babbling again."
"Just like it, huh?" Steve asks, eyebrows raised with a little bit of 'really?' and all the affection of his heart, and when she stops, giving him that slightly-desperate look, he adds, "So, who's getting a divorce?"
"Us," Robin says, planting her feet and looking straight at him. "Eventually. Hopefully. Someday."
"Ooookay, kinda worried you're already planning my eventual divorce when I haven't had sex since Vecna showed up," Steve says, still not really sure where this is going but willing to follow the train at least a little farther, and Robin just shakes her head, eyes wide and focused.
"No," she says. "I mean you and me. I think we should get married."
Yeah, that makes about as much sense as anybody's crazy plans these days. Steve misses the days when he would have been too confused to keep up. He's still confused, he just so rarely expects to be anything else any more that it doesn't really make that much of a difference.
"Robin," he says, a whole sentence in one word, and then she's pacing again.
"Look," she says, wringing her hands the way she does when she's actually pretty upset about something. "Look, I know it's a stupid, crazy, stupid idea, and this isn't me coming on to you, you know this isn't me coming on to you, this is actually a really hard and scary thing for me to think about asking, but it's still like fifty times less hard and scary than what we do every week just living in this town and knowing what we know, because one of the things we know about living in this town is how dangerous it is, how many bad things could happen at any time, and-- and-- and--"
"Robin," Steve says again, and puts down the sheet in a heap to get in her path. He doesn't usually cut her off, but when she gets so worked up she runs out of words, that's when it's time to help Robin get back out of her own way. She lowers her hands into his and Steve squeezes them. "Hey. What's going on?"
"I'm scared," Robin says.
"Yeah, me too," Steve agrees, easily, because the sky outside is a hazy sort of blue-green that goes red-purple at night when it's not black, and when rain falls it sometimes leaves streaks of slick grime on everything it touches, and there are bludgeoning weapons and loaded firearms tucked into corners all over this house. He's been scared more on than off since 1983, and he hasn't bothered pretending not know it since '85.
"I'm scared for you," she says. "And I'm scared for me. I'm scared that none of us knew what was up with Nancy at the hospital for two hours the other day, because her mom showed up for Mike and they told her everything and Karen Wheeler hates us."
"Nancy's fine," Steve promises; her left arm's gonna be bandaged for a while, but she can still steady a rifle, and sometimes he thinks that's two-thirds of all Nancy really cares about any more. It's probably close to half of what all any of them have time and space to care about these days, which is a pretty depressing thought. But that's not a forever state of events, right? "She just got a little banged up. She's okay."
"Steve, what happens if you get hurt?" Robin asks. "Like, really hurt? If you get sick, or concussed again, or you need surgery like Max or Eddie, and you're not conscious enough to make your own medical decisions?"
"I don't know, I guess they call my parents, don't get an answer, and then operate anyway," Steve says, blowing it off like he always does. "Robin, I'm fine."
She's shaking her head, though, no, "I've just, I've been thinking, and I've been reading, and you know how hospitals are, it's been happening all over where people get sick and their friends, partners, can't even get in to see them, and families they haven't even talked to in years get to make medical decisions, because they're not married."
And Steve's not exactly smart but he's not completely dumb. Robin leaves absolutely anything that might even suggest she's a lesbian at Steve's house so her parents won't find it at home, which means there's a whole pile of blurry xeroxed zines and pamphlets and gay newsletters on his once-unused bedroom desk, shoved under a Russian-English dictionary, three spiral notebooks, and a book by some guy called Jung-pronounced-Young. Steve isn't really sure where they come from, because they only make maybe one supply run to Indianapolis a week between the whole group of them and Robin doesn't even usually go, but the newsletters keep multiplying. He's glanced at them before. He's heard Robin talk. He knows what she's thinking about.
"That's not what's happening here," Steve says, promises. "You know that's not the same thing. Nobody's getting sick."
"No, just...torn up by demobats, or haunted, or possessed, or who knows what else," Robin says. "Steve, I don't want my parents to be the ones visiting me if I'm in the hospital. I don't want them to be the ones in charge of deciding what happens to me. I don't want to wake up from a coma one day to find out I've been transferred to some hospital in another state because they decided Hawkins was too dangerous and now I never get to see you again."
"So you want me to be the one doing that?" Steve asks, and Robin looks up at him, hands still tight in his, and she says,
"Yes," like it's obvious. Like it's everything.
For one brief, bright-aching moment, Steve lets himself regret. He's not in love with Robin. Not like that, never like that, but -- there was a minute, once, where it could've been, for him. And it never could have been, for her, he knows that, and that's fine, that's great, because Robin still loves him more than anybody else in his entire life has ever loved him. And it is everything, and it's never going to be like that, and probably nobody is ever going to love him like that even half as much as Robin loves him like this.
"Sure," Steve says.
"And -- and look, it's selfish, and it's stupid, and it's terrible and I hate myself for thinking it, but if you die out there, and half of us are basically living in your house, and I know your parents don't want this house but they can't sell it because it's Hawkins and the housing market sucks, and you don't technically own it but it's all tied up in your trust fund, and if we were married that would give us at least the length of a court case to figure out where else to go, and we'd be able to take care of Max, and--"
"Robin, yeah," Steve says. "I'll do it. Sure, let's get married."
"Wait, really?" Steve doesn't know why she sounds so startled when it was her insane idea, unless she really did want to be talked out of it, but if she'd actually wanted to be talked out of it she should've gone to Nancy. Steve's not the guy who talks Robin out of things. He's the guy who talks Robin into her own brilliant ideas and all the things she desperately wants and doesn't think she can have. "Like, really?"
"Yeah, sure, let's go tomorrow," Steve says. It's a Tuesday, the little gremlins'll all be in school and their shift at Family Video doesn't start until five. "Do we need to get, like, a license or something?"
It's not like Steve doesn't get that this is a weird thing to do, and not a thing that most people would do with their platonic lesbian best friends, but honestly...like, Robin hadn't wanted to say it, but Steve knows he's probably more likely to die in the next couple of years than most other people they know. Doesn't matter how much he plays it off, Steve's always going to be there sticking his body between whichever kid or girl or random civilian and the danger of the day. He's not always there, which is how Mike ends up with a gash up his arm that better not be getting infected with Upside Down rot while Karen Wheeler is too busy pretending that Hawkins is still a normal town, how Nancy gets caught in the blowback from a molotov cocktail thrown just a little too short. Sometimes it feels like Steve's blaming himself in the middle of the night for not being there a little more every year. But he tries.
And if it gets him killed, the least he can do is make sure his stupid trust fund goes to Robin instead of back to his fucking parents. He's not dumb enough to think him dying wouldn't wreck at least Robin, at least for a little while, but he has to figure a pile of cash would make it a little better. He doesn't think it would make things worse.
Besides, Steve lets him think for just a second, what if they do actually figure out how to stop Henry Creel and all his Upside Down bullshit? If they find a way out of Hawkins without leaving the kids behind to die, and move on with their lives? Would being super-platonically married to Robin actually be that bad? He could put her through college with that stupid fucking trust fund while she got whatever genius degree she wanted, maybe end up her slacker house husband and fold all the goddamn fitted sheets by himself while she's off at work. Adopt a couple of kids, maybe, if he could talk her into it. Road trip over the summer in that Winnebago.
Not like Robin could marry someone she's actually in love with. He'd make it clear to whatever girlfriend she gets in the future that he's just there as window dressing and live-in laundry service. Not like Steve's ever going to find a girl who loves him half as much as Robin does, who gets it when the nightmares jolt him awake at three in the morning, who'll believe a single thing he says about the waking nightmare that is Hawkins, Indiana.
Really, it just means that Robin can't leave him behind. Which isn't fair to her, maybe, but it's her idea. She'll be the one slapping divorce papers down in front of him if she ever gets tired of it.
"Um, yeah," Robin says, still a little surprised for some fucking reason, but starting to soften into that smile she sometimes gets when they're being sincere, every once in a while. "Yeah, we just need birth certificates and ID, and like ten dollars for the license fee, and we can go right down to the courthouse tomorrow. Be done in time for work."
"Honeymoon at Family Video?" Steve asks, and yeah, maybe it's not the wedding he once would've pictured for himself, but fuck that guy anyway. This is Robin.
"We'll put on Back To The Future and actually watch it this time," Robin says, and she's grinning now, and Steve is starting to grin too, thinking about the bright hazy beautiful parts of a godawful night, the worst best bathroom floor in Indiana, about marrying the who-the-fuck-cares-if-it's-not-actually-romantic love of his life.
"Throw in some popcorn and you've got yourself a deal, Buckley," he says, and Robin lunges forward into him, wrapping her arms around him. Steve's arms fold around her shoulders like she belongs there.
He's almost not even annoyed that they kick over the laundry basket and send the goddamn sheets spilling out over the floor in the process.
#c writes things#stranger things#so um apparently I'm doing THIS now#I feel like this is meant to be a 5 Times story#Five Times Someone Was Surprised To Discover That Steve And Robin Were Technically Legally Married#(at least one of the times the person surprised is Steve)#(look it's been ten years since it seemed relevant okay sometimes he forgets these things)#anyway we'll see if more Stranger Things fic ever appears again but#enjoy!
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Ooh, boy. First of all congratulations, you deserve the 2k, darling. 💕 The trope is thief!Taehyung on a balaclava. That's literally everything I need to read about, just thinking about him taking it off gets me high.
Bisou 💋
thank you so much for sending a request, baby, i love you & you're adorable 😔🫶🏻 bisous x mwah 💋
thief of your love
On the moon or in the middle of the ocean, he'll find you.
pairing: ex bf!taehyung x fem!reader
genre: exes au, smut
warnings: thief!tae (we don't know what he does, but we know it's bad 😭), tae's injured and kinda breaks into reader's hotel room 😬, unprotected sex, clit stimulation, slightly over 1k.
a.n.: im sorry i was more poetic than horny 😭
This is part of my 2k milestone celebration! Here is the post for the drabble game if you want to participate and send in a request of yours! 🤍
♡・2k celebration masterlist・♡
You enter your hotel room quietly, unlocking the door with the key card. It's dark inside and you try to find the light switch, but fail miserably. You leave it like that, no biggie, you think to yourself.
You sigh from exhaustion, finally removing the high heels you were wearing all night. You kick them off your feet, forgetting about them as you walk in the room, a little bit tipsy and leaning on the wall to not lose your balance.
You approach the bed, having the intention to let yourself fall on it, but before you can a larger and stronger body comes out of the dark. They hold you from behind, placing a hand over your mouth to muffle the scream that you were about to let out.
Your heartbeat fastens immediately, eyes widening as you go on auto-defence mode straight away. You try to push the person away, hitting them in the stomach with your elbows. You hear a groan and they easily give up, letting go of you instantly.
You rush to the bed and pat the area around you until you find the nightstand. You hurriedly turn on the bedside lamp, turning around to face this stranger who broke into your hotel room.
You see a masked face, the shape of a tall man and a hand holding his stomach, exactly where you hit him. You didn't realize you'd actually gone that hard on him, but you guess your survival instinct is really efficient.
His chest heaves at a rapid pace, yours too. When you get a better look at his eyes since they're the only thing you can see, you recognize something familiar in them, like you've met before and more than once.
With his free hand, he grabs the top of his hood and pulls it off in one swift movement. You frown for a second, scared to know who he is, but all of your negative feelings fly away when you see his face.
Taehyung, your ex-boyfriend.
Some details catch you off guard like the cut on his left brow, the wound on his bottom lip and his black eye.
"What- What happened?" You murmur, stomach twisting in worry. You step closer to him, but he moves his head away, groaning when you try to cup his face. You knit your brows together, confused on how he got so badly injured. "Taehyung, let me-" he shoves your extended arm away, which cuts you off instantly.
"Nothing happened," he responds coldly, looking back at you.
You stay quiet for a moment, not really knowing what to do because how he still manages to find you is beyond you. He seems to always find you, no matter where you are.
One thing you know is that he's lying. Something happened; he got into trouble, as usual. Taehyung has enemies, always will he in the world that he lives in, the dangerous world he had brought you in by loving you.
He wants you, but he'll always be accompanied by his problems. It seems like he didn't change, even though he swore to you he would. Lies and fake promises, that's what Taehyung has to offer. Nothing more, nothing less.
"You're not in position to lie to me, Taehyung," you say rather angrily, but your anger will never compete with his. The less he could do when breaking into your hotel room is tell you the truth.
But what the truth's worth when lies sound way better?
Taehyung towers over you with all his height, looking down at you, fire dancing in his eyes. Those same eyes that used to watch you sleep next to him and watch you get fucked by him.
"I'm in position to do whatever the fuck I want."
Shivers run up your spine as these words leave his mouth, making you cower away, but never far from him. Cower away in his arms, safe from any danger. Except when he brings the danger with him.
"And... what do you want this time?" You whisper, bringing up the courage to ask him. You blink, feeling his gaze boring through your soul, reaching your poor heart, making it thunder inside your rib cage.
He says nothing until his nose is pressed against the side of your face. He nuzzles your hair, smelling the perfume of your shampoo. You didn't change either; the same shampoo, the same hairstyle, the same lack of confidence and still very much attracted to him.
"I want you, sweetheart. I've only ever wanted you," he confesses in a low voice, one that makes you shiver once again.
He collides your hips against each other and you feel the bulge of his soft dick in his pants, too big to not notice it. Your mouth is agape and you're completely under his spell, mirroring the lust in his eyes.
Forehead against forehead, he stares down at your lonely lips, cruelly needing the warmth of his mouth against yours. It's not long until they find each other again, as if they've always belonged together, and maybe that's true. The only ever real truth.
You sense the metallic taste of his blood on your tongue and you wince a little bit, but don't break the kiss anyway. He groans again in pain and you think it's because of where you touch him, other wounds hiding under his clothes.
Worried, you stop your exchange and pull up his t-shirt, discovering red and purple marks over his once perfect skin. "Taehyung," you gasp, reaching the bruises, the tip of your fingers brushing over them. You see his muscles tensing up when you touch one, your heart breaking a little more.
"It's nothing," he says, but you obviously don't believe him.
You look up, finding his eyes on you. You understand now that no matter how far you are from him, your heart will never cease beating for Taehyung.
He pushes you gently over the bed, your back hitting the soft surface underneath and he joins you, hovering over you. It's a matter of seconds until he drags the hem of your dress up and your panties down your thighs. He takes off his jacket and his t-shirt, not letting you time to analyze his unfortunate injuries.
While he kisses you, he draws lazy circles on your clit, kind enough to prep you beforehand. You wrap your legs around his waist, locking them behind his back. His skin is burning hot and you enjoy the feeling of it under your fingertips, moaning softly against his lips when he pulls a little but intense orgasm out of you.
He frees his cock out of his briefs after, considering protection useless in the heat of the moment. You moan in unison when he penetrates you, stretching you out deliciously, your walls closing tightly around his dick.
A moment like this, you will never forget. So familiar, memories coming back to your mind, making you see stars like he brought the whole galaxy to you.
He pins your hands above your head, breathing heavily over you, going delirious as his high approaches so rapidly, as well as yours. This is the best position in his opinion, the only one valid and worth his time, able to see your expressions of pleasure.
He grunts and you moan, pussy clenching around him as he finishes into you, filling you up with his cum.
You spend the rest of the night cuddled up in his arms, tracing the shape of his abs with your fingers and observing the mean marks on his poor skin. He refuses when you propose to help, slightly offended when he does so.
It's only after he leaves early in the morning that you realize that helping him wouldn't have been a good idea. He would have brought you back into his problems and he doesn't want that. He wants you safe, away from him.
.
.
.
#🍑 [drabble game]#requests#bts fanfiction#bts fanfic#bts smut#bts x reader#bts drabble#taehyung drabble#taehyung fanfiction#taehyung fanfic#taehyung smut#taehyung x reader
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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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Oda is really good at foreshadowing because, while him having always had a clear complete backstory for each character from the get go isn't so sure, he clearly has character sheets for each of them that highlight the themes to be explored through them and what logically leads them to become who they are today (finding family in strangers for robin : why not bio fam? -> neglect. why realization at enies lobby and not jaya? -> betrayal in the past, needed proof of truthfulness. why this found fam and not another one? -> criminal lifestyle and previous experience of constant exploitation)
Then when he sets up a scene between characters, he takes all of those sheets into account and specifically choses what would make sense to be "revealed"/said between those characters (and in turn to the audience) at this specific point in time in the plot and in the overall story
Ex: Robin and Law's talk about the Will of D. It makes complete sense for both of them to have this talk in the story between each other specifically. Why didn't Robin ask any other D before Law ? The D clan aren't that plentiful when you think about it to the point Robin met 3 of them in her entire life. She didn't know how important it was back then so she never asked Saul. She probably asked Luffy but Luff-man doesn't care about those matters to the point he only found out he even had a dad at 17yo ("sorry Robin"). In short, Law is perfect for the job. And while his information fits at that point in the plot for Robin to uncover, we as an audience aren't ready for it yet.
Alternatively, when those character themes sometimes coincide between different characters, he simply ties them together to avoid redundancy
Bonney is a funny case to me because she was created in a week like most of the non-Strawhat supernovas but Oda made sure that her and these new characters wouldn't interfere or create plotholes with what he's already had in mind while leaving enough leeway to tie them more into the plot if needed. Bonney has the biggest leeway of any supernova because of her devil fruit powers. The fact it changes her age and we were only ever given an estimation means you could technically have her be born at nearly any point in time as well as be the daughter, mother or grandmother to anyone you wish.
Yet she fits so well as Kuma's daughter for a very simple reason: It makes the scene of Kuma sending Perona to Mihawk's island gain a layer of sense that was kinda missing and easily glossed over on a first read. Other than giving a demonstration of what Kuma's abilities could do pre-Sabaody and emphasize how much bigger of a threat he was compared to Moria even if they shared the same title, we never really got WHY Perona was spared like the strawhats were at Sabaody. There wasn't some grand vision to it, no tie to something he was part of like the Revolutionaries, ... So why ? Especially at that point in time where he was slowly but surely losing himself and any tie left to his humanity
But then Bonney comes in and their backstory is revealed. And that's when you begin to notice. You notice that Perona is a pink haired adult woman with a rather childish personality. Notice that her devil fruit can easily be underestimated and holds a lot of potential. Notice that Kuma mechanically asked her a really strange question which lacked an important key setup for it. Notice that the spot on Mihawk's island where he sent her to was safe from danger. And you realize
Perona might have reminded Kuma of someone very very close to him to the point his mind couldn't even fathom harming a look alike.
And chronologically at the time of this encounter, he's only seen Bonney as an adult once back at the Sorbet Kingdom where he ended up fainting at the sight alone
In a strange turn of events, things just fit and we're all happy for it
I have nothing to say you're just spot on about everything here. I am so desperate to see Oda's notes on when he makes arcs and characters for how he puts everything together. I can only hope he's kept all of them so, when One Piece ends, he can release a book with all his concept sketches and character/story plots to see exactly how he does it. I need to see how the gears turn u know
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Dude I am loving this finfolk au of yours with welcome home! I would love to know more, especially how someone might accidentally end up on the island. Like, does home just send puppets sometimes if they think they'd be a good addition or does Wally leave to play matchmaker if someone feels lonely? Is there an economy where they sell or interact with the mainland? And I wanna know more about how Howdy's poison works and hope to see his full finman form, kinda got a crush on him. Keep doing what you do!
Ehehehe- I decided to use Howdy for anatomy practice today since you like him so much, I'll definitely try to come up with a full form for him tomorrow or this week :)
But it's nice to hear more and more people enjoy this AU! (Anatomy notes and some sketches at the bottom if anyone is curious) I'll answer as much as I can for this ask. Right below this lovely picture.
Usually people don't just end up on the island of Home "by accident". Say that someone were to be on a ship and suddenly a storm forms out of nowhere, sinking what is left and the stranger is carried to Home by a strong current. It's no accident, but it's set up to look like one.
Wally, is usually the one to make storms way out there. He never explains it, but it's already a well known fact that Home probably told him to do this. If not storms though, one or two of the neighbors do leave for the mainland to retrieve the new neighbor. Whether it be by force or deception. Finfolk (much like in Orkney Folklore) are known for kidnapping and deception so it's no surprise that they usually go this route.
However, if a neighbor takes a liking to someone they may take their sweet time on mainland. Disguised as a whole other puppet (they are known to be shapeshifters), they would most likely butter up their darling until it's too late for them to realize what danger they're in. Off to Home they go!
Even if it seems random, there is always a reason why Home might send someone out to retrieve a new neighbor to add. No one will know what reason, but sometimes Wally is the one to set things up as well. And yes, sometimes he will play matchmaker, it makes him smile to see someone in love (even though most finfolk are just borderline obsessed with puppets on mainland). I guess you could call him Cupid The Fish Demon. "That person seemed so sweet...I think Howdy would love them. What do you think Home?"
There is surprisingly somewhat of an economy that they have on the mainland. Like I've stated before, this is a universe where just about any mythical/folklore creature exists. There would of course be a market for all things magical or purposeful. It's pretty much just Howdy on the Mainland that handles his own seafood restaurant, but usually he's away at Home or handling business with an underground potion shop. The restaurant is handled by trusted employees while he's gone (he's like an owner that checks in every once and a while, probably 3 times a month to make sure things are going smoothly).
The majority of his potions are made at Home, the only place he feels his work is safe at. The potions aren't like that of Wally's work or any of the neighbor's, instead he focuses on more deadlier concoctions. Need someone to go into a never ending sleep? He's got a potion for that. Need someone to get mysteriously sick and die over a long period of time? He's got you covered. Most of his ingredients come from exotic and unknown fish native only to the waters surrounding Home. Though sometimes he will use himself for some potions that are non-lethal.
His scales and fur are usually coated in a thin layer of a slick substance. It is a neurotoxin, affecting the nerves and causing a range of symptoms depending on how much is touched or consumed (usually it's worse if you consume it). Most common symptoms are tingling, numbness, burning sensations, paralysis and sometimes loss of consciousness (though it's short unless you really take in a lot of it). He usually uses this in potions that are meant as a sort of tranq or sedative. Some potions made for causing specifically paralysis (he uses other ingredients to make it last a long while.), sleeping death (sleeping, but it outwardly appears like the person is dead when they're not), severe pain, or a potion for a long and painful death.
No matter what he makes, Howdy is proficient in it. He prides himself in his work like no other.
Some Notes
I know it may sound boring to most, but the best way I did this was looking at muscles for a good 30 minutes and drawing out different shapes that look similar to each muscle. A lot of the muscles look like stretched out diamond shapes or oddly shaped pancakes stacked on top of each other. As for the arms, you can use the chain method on them even with Howdy, it's just at an angle.
You should practice on paper first, but if you are struggling with proportions then try it digitally. Select areas (like a limb) that might seem out of place and resize it until the proportions look okay. This way you can learn how to fix the proportions and later hopefully not need to resize anything in the future.
A note for drawing buff dudes is that the muscles tend to stack on each other like misshapen pancakes or balls of dough. It's not exactly an oval or diamond, but it's shape is stretchable and changing. As for the legs, Men tend to have very square-ish hips and more blocky looking thigh muscles.
#Yeehaw that was a lot#sometimes I notice when I try drawing Howdy from the front he looks off#so I will practice until I get it right#Yeah I def draw realism better than anime :/#I kind like this style tbh#welcome home#welcome home au#finfolk#finfolk au#au#welcome home finfolk#welcome home finfolk au#howdy pillar#welcome home howdy pillar#wh howdy pillar#welcome home howdy#art#my art#art advice#anatomy
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So...is it just me, or does this character.ai thing kind of feel like a ticking time bomb? I debated whether I should post about this at all since I don’t know if I want to contribute to popularizing it further, but to be honest, it’s already super popular and only growing, so I doubt that my tiny blog will make a big impact in terms of who knows about it. That being the case, I’m curious what other people’s thoughts about it are.
There are a couple big red flags that jump out at me. The first is how it will use the data that it collects. I’m sure that the creators say that they won’t use it for anything nefarious, but we have no real reason to believe that’s true. What bothers me is that people will be—and I’m sure already are—confessing some of their deepest secrets to beloved fictional characters. But this information isn’t really going to those characters, it’s going to the creators/owners of the AI, who can do with it pretty much whatever they like: read it, sell it, whatever. It feels...very gross, I don’t know. Even manipulative.
The second thing that I find a little disturbing is that there is no way to delete a Character that you’ve created. Once you make and publish it, it’s just out there forever. You have literally zero control over it. That seems...like it could be problematic. Obviously whenever you put something on the Internet, people can save it, record it, whatever, but usually there’s at least the option to delete the original posting, hopefully reduce the spread. That doesn’t exist with character.ai, and even if you could delete the public posting of the Character, you kinda have to think, anything that you’ve entered and any conversations that were generated have already become part of the AI’s training, and there’s no real way to extricate that data.
Lastly, what are the limits on what a Character can say? I wasn’t able to find out anything concrete about this. Right now, it seems like most Characters err on the side of being overly kind and polite, but what if that changes? What if your favorite fictional character “tells” you to kill yourself? Or someone else? People are going to reach out to these Characters in times of emotional distress, and there could be severe consequences if an AI says something problematic to someone in the middle of a mental health crisis.
Currently, I don’t even see a disclaimer on the character.ai website that it shouldn’t be used as a replacement for an actual mental health/suicide hotline and/or medical treatment. But even once that disclaimer inevitably goes up, you know that people aren’t going to follow it. Who would want to talk to a stranger over the phone or in some cold, clinical setting when they can potentially get attention, affection, and support from their favorite character, someone who is supernaturally emotionally available and ready to tell them whatever they want to hear?
I don’t tend to be super sensitive to exposure to things like this, but even I felt a little strange knowing that there are truly no rails. When I write stories or chats for myself, I control both sides of the conversation. I choose the ideas, and I control everything that everyone says. With character.ai, anything can happen, which makes it interesting and exciting, but also a little dangerous. During one conversation with a Character, the Character suddenly confessed that they had been a victim of sexual assault. The conversation left me feeling really strange and little upset, and I can only imagine how triggering something like that could potentially be to someone who was more sensitive.
To be honest, as soon as I heard about character.ai, I felt uneasy. It was a conflicted feeling, because I know that people could potentially benefit from this a lot, and I’m in a privileged position where I don’t really feel like I need it. I’m a pretty good writer (at least so far as writing for myself goes); it’s fairly easy for me to write my own stories and chats. So it’s easier for me to say, no, thanks, those risks aren’t worth the benefits. But not everyone has those same skills or wants to invest the effort. So I understand the desire to depend on a service like this. Still, it feels risky. Even putting aside the privacy/data security risks and the possibility of a Character saying something problematic, I feel like engaging with this kind of thing could quickly become unhealthy.
I say this as someone who already treads the line of spending too much time in a fictional universe, even with the barrier of having to seek out media or create my own. If that barrier were nonexistent, and if the interactions felt even more “real” and immersive...it could be even more addictive. I say this as someone who was a lonely middle schooler who read too many books and didn’t know how to talk to boys. How many hours might I have spent, divulging my life’s story and heart of hearts, to a computer program masquerading as my fictional crush? Is this really OK?
While I’m hesitant to voice this for fear of sounding like some kind of blind traditionalist who can’t appreciate progress or melodramatic doomsayer, I have grave doubts about potentially living in a future where people are regularly turning to artificial intelligences controlled by corporations rather than actual human beings. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to talk to a computer, but it’s not a replacement for actual human social interaction. And I fear that in a society that is becoming ever more isolated, we’re going to lose what little connection with each other we have, because talking to a computer is so much easier and more convenient in a world that is constantly draining our emotional and physical resources. It’s just...genuinely horrifying to think about. Employers already don’t want to give us sufficient time to see our loved ones, to be together, in person. I don’t want this to become a kind of cold substitute for actual human bonding that we just accept because we have no choice. We all deserve genuine human interaction and connection, and anyone who tries to sell us short should be stabbed.
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Never Love Again
listen to the song shawty baes
100 followers WOOT WOOT 🙌
thanks y’all so much here’s some angst bc I’m a little angst whore, also requests are open so please request I'm running out of ideas
part 2
pairing: Jason Todd x reader (i don’t think any gender is specified)
genre: angst
summary: Jason Todd’s death has left a mark on you
word count: 1251
warnings: death, descriptions of abuse (kinda). I did not proof read this
masterlist
April 27th, that's when he died.
wish I could, I could've said goodbye
His funeral was held at the Gotham City cemetery. He was buried in the Wayne plot. You know he would much rather be buried next to Catherine Todd. Not Martha and Thomas Wayne, people that he didn’t even know. Bruce invited you to the funeral. When you arrived it was filled with people Jason didn’t even know. People that he wouldn’t want there. The funeral was a glorified press conference. Bruce used the funeral to explain his wards death. Of course he couldn’t tell them the truth. That Jason Todd died a hero. It infuriated you to see Bruce fabricate a whole story to keep the truth away from the public. It infuriated you that the Joker was still on the lose after what he did to Jason. It infuriated you that the whole world sees Jason as an immature child. It infuriated you that you didn’t stop him from going.
if I knew it would be the last time
You knew that him trying to find his birth mother would be dangerous, but somehow he convinced you that it would be okay. You made the mistake of trusting him. With a goodbye kiss he walked out the door. That was the last time you saw him alive. If you would’ve known it would be the last time, you’ve would’ve held him tighter. Kissed him longer. Begged him not to go. But at last the past is the past.
I would've broke my heart in two
tryna save a part of you
When Bruce told you the story of how he died, you laughed a bittersweet laugh. Of course it was like Jason to try to save someone that he barley knew. You only wish that Jason could be seen as the hero he truly is.
I wanna pretend that it's not true
You didn’t believe he was dead at first. Even going as far to make Bruce take you to the morgue where his body was. When you saw him you couldn’t contain your self. You broke out in a sob, holding his lifeless body, begging for him to come back. Anything. Bruce had to drag you off. It was evident that it wasn’t a fast painless death. It was slow excruciating death. The love of your life didn’t deserve to die like that. No one did.
that you're gone
At the end of the service Dick came up to you to offer his condolences. You find it ironic that Dick, the person who resented Jason from the beginning, now suddenly cared for him. You tried to be nice to him. Put on a brave face. You know that’s what Jason would’ve wanted. He wouldn’t want you to cry over him. But just because you didn’t cry doesn’t mean you weren’t in pain.
cause my world keeps turning and turning
Years after his death and you still weren’t over it. You’ve went off to college, graduated, got a job at a boring tech company across the country, but yet everyday you thought about him. You only did all those things because you knew Jason would want you to continue living your life. You’ve been in countless dates none of them ever filling that Jason Todd sized whole hole in your heart. Maybe part of it is that you don’t want to move on. You don’t want to forget the time you had with him. You don’t want to know another kiss. You don’t want to feel another touch. You don’t want to give your heart away to another stranger. You’ll never love again. You’ve rather wait to be reunited with him in whatever afterlife he’s in.
and I'm not moving on
Jason lived in the apartment across from you. It was just you and your dad and Jason and Catherine. Your dad was hardly home but when he was he was either passed out drunk or hitting you drunk. You saw Jason every morning when you left to head to school. Jason never went to school, he would stay home taking care of Catherine. He would stare at you. A part of him was jealous. You got to live a life he never could. Eventually you got tired of his cold stares and confronted him.
when we first met
“Would you please stop staring at me” You said
Jason was stunned for a moment he had never heard your voice before. Angelic was how he would’ve described it. Regaining his composure he said, “Don’t flatter yourself”
“Wouldn’t dream of it” you rolled your eyes and continued the journey.
I never thought that I would fall
That was the first time of many you talked. Over the years you and Jason became best friends of some sort. When Catherine died, you were there for him. When he would come home with bruises and scrapes from stealing you would patch him up. When your dad got to be to much he would let you stay over at his apartment. When you he was adopted by Bruce Wayne you were heartbroken having to see him go. But you were happy that he got to leave this horrid place. He deserved the world. You still remember the day when he told you he was leaving. You two were sitting side by side on the rooftop of the building.
I never thought that I'd find myself lying in your arms
“So that’s it? You’re just gonna leave and never see me again?” You said voice cracking turning towards him
Jason eyes soften, he pauses, “you know I could never go one day without seeing you” trying to lighten the mood
“Jason you’re gonna go live in a mansion across the city. Be realistic.”
“C’mon y/n quit being a Debbie downer. I promise you I will always make time to see you” he said
You search his eyes trying to find any hint of dishonesty but you find nothing. You close your eyes and sigh, “I’m gonna miss you Jay”
“I know.” He said pulling you into a hug
don't want to feel another touch
Jason did keep his promise. You were enrolled in Gotham Academy with Jason. Probably because of a certain Wayne. You ended up seeing Jason everyday and spending frequent nights at the manor.
Your and Jason’s friendship eventually blossomed into more, slowly but surely. One day he came through your window all beaten and bloody in his robin costume. You freaked out at first until you realized it was just Jason.
“Jason what the fuck?” You whisper-yelled
don't want another name falling off my lips
He just groaned in response. You quickly grabbed the first aid kit and patched him up. He flinched at each stitch.
"Jay I need you to stop flinching"
"It hurts." He moaned
You hummed in response.
"Kiss the pain goodbye" Jason said abruptly.
You blanked out for a minute. A million thoughts flooded your brain. You thought it was joke. There was no Jason could feel the same way about you. Oh but he did. You were proven this when Jason pulled you down into a kiss.
I don't wanna know this feeling unless it's you and me
A bittersweet memory. Robin brought you together but also brought you apart. That's all you can think about before falling asleep.
don't want to give my heart away to another stranger
or let another day begin
won't even let the sunlight in
oh I'll never love again
...
part 2
#jason todd#jason todd x reader#jason todd x you#jason todd fanfiction#jason todd angst#jason todd x reader angst#angst#red hood x reader#red hood x you#bruce wayne#dick grayson#ill never love again#kinda sad#jason todd oneshot
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Can't trust a supe.
Part 1: "Uncle" Billy
Warnings ⚠️: Swearing, death, killing, body horror, gore. It's The Boys so all related warnings apply ✌🏻
My life isn't a happy one, but it used to be. I used to have the best life a kid could ever want. Two loving parents that worked from home, a huge house full of people who cared about me on a bunch of land. Now I know people will say "but Simon your dad was a cult leader and your mom was a crazed geneticist." Which is all true but they loved me and that's all a parent really has to do in my opinion. My life was perfect till the day he ruined it all. Vaught's swinging big stick, Homelander. He attacked my family's compound and destroyed it all. Only bodies and rubble were left when he was done. I only survived because one or my Father's followers shielded me from the falling debris. That was 7 years ago and now I'm a 17 year old living in and out of shelters. I can't even use my real name because of the slander Vaught slung to justify homelanders borderline war crimes. I swore if I ever saw his lipless face again I'd kill him. I just needed to figure out how first.
I wasn't sure if I could trust this British guy who called himself Billy Butcher. He kept showing up and trying to talk to me. Finally he asked if I wanted to get even with Homelander. How could I refuse? He asked to meet during the day at the park. He kinda sketched me out. The long coat and sunglasses he gave me school shooter all grown up vibes but if he actually had a way to kill Homelander I was more then willing to look past his unfortunate fashion choices.
So here I sat at the park waiting for this limey bastard. Sure enough he strolled up and sat down next to me on the bench. He leaned back and looked over the whole park. I turned to look at him and asked him what he needed me to do but before any words could leave my mouth he stopped me.
"That the fucks the matter with you? Face forward, don't look at me." He said as he chewed on some gum. I look forward and lean against the arm rest. Trying to look as nonchalant as possible.
"You are the one who wanted to meet in public." I say taking a quick glance at him.
"Yeah I did because you're a damn supe." He said it with such malice. I froze for a second. If I was smart I would have walked away and never looked back but I have never been known for my brains.
"How did you-"
"I have my ways. I know who mommy and daddy are as well. I know everything there is to know about you right down to what's in your bag." He said as he shifted in his seat a little. I leaned down and pulled my bag into my lap to hold close.
"You going to blackmail me or something?" I ask looking over at him no longer caring to play alone with whatever game he had.
"No nothing like that, I want to give you an opportunity. We have a common problem. I have this time coming together and we need someone with your particular set of skills." He said as he finally turned his head to look at me. His sunglasses made it impossible to see anything other than my own reflection.
"You really think our problem can be fixed? You got that kind of juice on your team?"
"Gotta try right? We are getting there. If you don't want to help then fine. I guess you don't want these." He said as he pulled a manila envelope from the inside of his jacket. He smirked down at me.
"And what's in that?"
"The only file Vaught had on your dearly departed mom. She wrote it herself. Could be something interesting in there. Maybe something that could make sense of it all." He tapped his gloved fingers against the envelope then slipped it back on his jacket.
"What would I have to do?"
"Come with me and meet the team. I can't talk about it out here. Never know who's listening." He said as he pointed to the sky before standing up. I should be more careful about strangers. He could be a lot of very dangerous things.
He walked us to a ran down looking building. He walked down some steps and banged on the door.
"Oi cunts let me in!" He shouted. Soon the door unlatched and opened. We walked into this sad gray concrete room. A tall skinny man leaned against the sink with his arms crossed. He looked scared shitless. Like he could vomit at any second. He looked completely harmless. The second man was shorter with a shaved head. He looked much less harmless.
"I thought you were getting someone who can help!" He had a thick French accent when he spoke.
"She can. She's a supe don't you worry Frenchie." Billy said as he walked past the man. Frenchie how original. He looked at me with almost pleading eyes. Now that I really look at him he seems just as harmless as the pipe cleaner leaning on the sink.
"I don't even know what the problem is." Billy walks over to another door and unlocks it. He swings it open and there is an empty cage. My eyes widen as I look at the men in the room. Billy looks in the cage.
"Shit no no wait a second. The bugger is invisible." He grabs a cattle prod and jabs it onto the cage. I hear a man scream. The man in the cage uncloaks himself. It was translucent from the 7 butt naked and sitting criss-cross applesauce on the bottom of the cage.
"What the fuck thats almost worse than what I thought you wanted! Whatever it is I'm out hell no!" Billy quickly steps out of the room and shuts the door.
"You're the only one who can do it. His skin is like fucking Dimonds! But I was thinking maybe the inside isn't." Billy yelled over my protesting.
"What is she super strong or something?" The thin man asked.
"No!" Billy and I shout at once at him.
"Fine I guess you rather the news have these." Billy says as he opens his coat to show the file.
"I thought you weren't going to blackmail me fuck! Fucking dick!" I shout as I stomp my foot. Billy smirks as he nods like a lunatic. Frenchie and the thin man look back and forth at each other confused. I guess Billy had not informed his team about anything of his little plan.
"You can do it. The file says you can anyway." Billy says the same smirk painted on his stupid face.
"If he finds out-"
"If cuntlander finds out you'll get your chance to kill him. Or wait till he comes for you after he finds out who your mom was."
"Fuck!" I felt completely cornered. I couldn't kill someone who had never done anything to me. no matter how much of a douchebag they seemed like.
"Wait, who's her mom?" The man asked.
"Homelander's old cock warmer" Billy says with a knowing look.
"Stop it!"
"Oh yeah moms got around alright. She was two-timing New York's favorite supe with New York's most notorious serial bombing cult leader. A bit of a whore if you ask me." I wanted to leap across the room and strangle that dumb British asshole but I knew my strengths were not in a physical fight.
"You're Alphonse Bishop's daughter!?" The thin man said with a look of shock. Billy let out a hardy laugh. I had had enough of this.
"That's it! Give me the file or I'll just kill you!" I screamed at Billy.
Frenchie's attention turned to a laptop.
"Oh look at the big bollocks on this one! Yeah go on kill me might as well because if you don't get in there and kill that cunt we are all dead!"
"Butcher we have a problem." Frenchie said. Billy and the other man huddled around the laptop.
"Is that-"
"He's searching for something."
I come over and stand on my tippy toes to see over the men. It was Homelander he was surveying the area likely looking for his fellow 7 member. It was chaos for a moment. They scrambled around trying to figure out what happened. They talked about a chip of some kind. I was too busy staring at the screen as Homelander flew around.
"You two stay here." Billy said as he and frenchie ran up the steps. They were out the door before I could stop to ask for an explanation.
"I'm Hughie Campbell by the way, it's good to meet you." The man said, looking over at me as he stuck his hands in his pockets. It took everything in me not to break his jaw right then and there. This wasn't his fault I shouldn't be mad at him.
"You should get out of here." I say as I sit down on a stool.
"Butcher told us to stay."
"Yeah if he told you to lick his balls would you? He's gonna get you killed. Let him and the Frenchman sort it out." I say as I motion to the door with my head. He puts on a stiff upper lip and shakes his head.
"No noway, I got to do this. He needs all the help he can get, but if you want to go I won't stop you. I'll tell Butcher you overpowered me." He says with a little laugh. Oh if he only knew. He didn't seem like Billy was blackmailing him. What on earth would make someone want to help that maniac.
"Nah I'm as good as dead the second I see Homelander face to face anyway. I'm going to rip him apart." I say as I stare at the looping footage of him zipping around. Hughie gives me a strange look.
"How are you-" he was interrupted by the other door being opened. Translucent somehow had gotten out of his cage. The 3 of us just stared at each other for a second before finally he spoke.
"You kids are gonna let me walk out of here." He says as he starts to walk to the exterior door. Hughie to my surprise steps in front of his path.
"No, I'm sorry we can't let you. just go back in the room please." He begged. Translucent laughed a little. He looked over at the laptop and saw Homelander was near.
"Yeah I think I'm just going to go outside." He said pushing past a defeated looking Hughie. I could tell Billy would tear this kid a new one if he just let translucent walk out. I got up and quickly put myself between him and the door just as Hughie did. He looked down at me for a second before rolling his eyes and giving me a strong push to the side. I bumped into the table with my hip.
"You going to push a kid?" Hughie shouted as he grabbed translucent from behind and tried to pull him down to the ground. Translucent went invisible and started to beat the snot out of Hughie. His skin may be invisible but his insides were not. I looked inside of him. Like most supes he was stronger than average but I was sure I could still do something. I saw his skeletal system wrapped in muscle and nerves move as he continued his assault. I tighten his muscles in his right arm making it go stiff. He started to scream which normally wouldn't be a problem but Homelander might hear so I tightened his vocal cords. Now only small mouse-like squeaks escaped his lips. Hughie wiggled himself out from under the invisible man and pushed himself up against a wall. I couldn't see Translucence face but the muscles were constricted in his face. Even without the skin I could make out the expression of fear. I had to be quick about whatever I was going to do to him.
I couldn't hold such a targeted effort for too long. He tried to get to his feet so I tightened his joints connected to his knees. I struggled to hold him
He was fighting against me. I felt a popping sensation and without warning he was ripped apart in all directions. Invisible bloody pieces are sent all over Hughie and I. He looked over at me almost more scared then before.
"Was that…" his question slowly trailed to silence as I nodded at him quickly. He slipped on the blood covered floor for a second as he got to his feet.
Billy and Frenchie came running in. They started to speak but stopped as they realized what was covering us and the walls.
"What'd uncle Billy tell ya! Easy peasy. " He says as he hooks his elbow around my neck to pull me closer to his side. Frenchie almost trips over a particularly invisible pile of human.
The clean up was somehow more grizzly than the murder itself. Hughie was sent home to shower and try to forget what he saw. It was mostly picked up and Frenchie left to go talk to some girl. So Billy and I were left.
"My mom wasn't two-timing Homelander. Her and dad had an open relationship and Homelander knew that." I say looking down at Billy who was on his knees searching for the last bits of translucent.
"Is that so?"
"Yeah and if you ever call my mom a whore again or say she was Homelander's cock warmer I'll pull your tongue out through your asshole." He let out a chuckle as he got up. He got out the file and held it out to me.
"I wrote the number of my business cell down on it if you change your mind about helping out. Either way, with or without you, I can promise Homelander is going to die." I grabbed the file but Billy didn't let go. "Stay out of trouble, if you don't you'll be seeing me again and I won't be there to ask for your help." His tone was dark. I could tell it was a genuine warning. I pulled it from his hand and walked out.
I wasn't even sure what was in this file but whatever It was, was worth it. It had to be. I killed a man for it after all.
Part 2 will probably be out tomorrow if not then definitely the day after. Thanks for reading! 💖
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For the final day of @nestaarcheronweek, I've curated a playlist for our music loving girl. I wanted to showcase Nesta's complexities and her deep love for music with songs of strength, anger, loss, and love. Listen to it here! And come for a lyrical deep dive behind the cut!
Fresh Laundry-Allie X
You said you're always on my side
But what if my side has changed too much?
Then tell me, who am I?
You said you're always on my side
But what if my side has lived too long?
Something has to die
Who am I?
Fury Oh Fury-Nico Vega
Fury, oh fury don't you misguide me
I need my wits to set me free
Fury, oh fury don't you misguide me
I need my wits to set me free
Little Dark Age-MGMT
Breathing in the dark, lying on its side
The ruins of the dead painted with a scar
And the more I straighten out, the less it wants to try
The feelings start to rot one wink at a time
Forgiving who you are for what you stand to gain
Just know that if you hide, it doesn't go away
I Love You, But I Need Another Year-Liza Anne
I don't think enough
Before I say too much
I'm digging my own grave
With all the shit I say
I keep my head high
Kinda like a lie
I say I'm doing fine
Even when I'm losing my mind
The Fruits-Paris Paloma
As you eat it up whole
My body and my blood
You've claimed it now, so come drink up
And there's no need to be concerned
About what's left when you are done because
You've got me on my knees to pray
Or play some other pleasing role
But never wonder
Where I must have learnt it all
Alpha Shallows-Laura Marling
But the grey in this city is too much to bear
The grey in this city is too much to bear
And I believe you are meant to be seen but not to be understood
It's going to be pretty tough when you leave
You'll help to take a little part of me
To make sure you don't treat yourself mean
And I want to see all that you'll see
What's Wrong-PVRIS
I know it's so wrong but I'm so far gone
Don't need you to tell me I'm so cynical
Quit being so over-skeptical
Don't need a metaphor for you to know I'm miserable
Peacemaker-Jesca Hoop
Put down your peacemaker blue
Warrior
Warrior
Beaten and broken and bruised
Warrior
Warrior
Come and I'll unlock your chain link armour
Seven baths absolve your blood stained honor
Your honor
Tell the water of
Human-Oh Land
I don't love you human
You remind me of the things I hate in me
I don't love you human
Cause You show me how imperfect I can be
Human
You're so lonely lonely lonely
Smokestacks-LAYLA
You got eyes so azure
You got blood orange skin
And there's a spark in your centre that's piercing me in
I got a night-time shudder and a lion within
I got a brain-tricked hunger and you're pulling me in
Willow Tree March-The Paper Kites
You fall through the trees
And you pray with your knees on the ground
For the things that you need
With your lust and your greed weighing down
And you weaken your love
And you hold it above your head
Success is a song of the heart, not a song of your head
Mountain at My Gates-Foals
I see a mountain in my way
It's looming larger by the day
I see a darkness in my fate
I'll drive my car without the brakes
Oh, gimme some time
Show me the foothold from which I can climb
Yeah, when I feel low
You show me a signpost for where I should go
Rabbit Will Run-Iron and Wine
We've all traded lovers and woke up alone
And we've clapped for the king though our fingers were cold
And I still have a prayer 'cause I love what I cannot control
Water Water-Empress Of
You're just a heart to hold, you're easy to impress
I want to care much more, but I'm feeling less awake
You're just a heart to break, easy to manipulate
I want to care much more, but I'm feeling less and less
Hold On, Hold On-Neko Case
The most tender place in my heart is for strangers
I know it's unkind, but my own blood is much too dangerous
Hangin' round the ceiling half the time
Shake it Out-Florence + the Machine
And I am done with my graceless heart
So tonight I'm gonna cut it out and then restart
'Cause I like to keep my issues drawn
It's always darkest before the dawn
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Stranger Things Ficlet: 002
A little blurb that might one day turn into something but might not.
Steve and Nancy have a brief conversation about lingering consequences of their relationship.
words: 630 ish
☆ ☆ ☆
“Sometimes I wonder if you know what you did to me,” Steve says, staring down the neck of his beer bottle, not even sparing a glance at Nancy.
“What?” She asks, because how is anyone meant to respond to that?
“I don’t think you really do, if I’m honest.” He’s leaning back against the couch now, head resting on the cushion and eyes trained on the ceiling.
Robin is upstairs in the bathroom, and Jonathan, Argyle, and Eddie are out back passing a joint around. Steve elected not to join them, already inebriated enough off brownies and booze. Nancy isn’t one for smoking so she stayed inside too.
They’ve never really talked about it, how everything ended between them. How he had loved her and maybe still does in some way. How she called his love bullshit and drunkenly broke his heart before running off to sleep with Jonathan in a conspiracy theorist’s house.
She has thought about it before, what she might say if the topic ever came up, but it never has. They swept it under the rug and never really looked at it again. Of course there was that weird flirting they had going on when Vecna started possessing and killing people. False confessions of imaginary futures together where they had a bunch of kids and were happily married. They both know that’s not what Nancy wants. They both know Nancy isn’t who Steve wants, at least not anymore.
If the longing glances and small private smiles he sends Eddie’s way are anything to go by, she knows exactly who he wants that future with. But he hasn’t done anything about those ever so obvious feelings. At first she thought maybe he hadn’t realized his own feelings, or maybe he was scared since being gay in a place like Hawkins is almost more dangerous than fighting off demogorgons. But over the past few months it’s become pretty clear that he knows what he feels and there’s something else entirely that’s stopping him from making a move on the guy who so obviously wants him back.
As odd as it may seem, Steve and Eddie just kinda work. If Eddie’s habit of collecting lost sheep is anything to go by, they have similar ideas of what they want their futures to look like. They fill in the gaps left by the other in all kinds of ways. They open each other up to new ideas and experiences. They make each other smile. They shouldn’t work, but they do. They slot into place side by side and just make the other a better, more true version of themselves.
Nancy and Steve never quite did that. Sure they helped each other change, but it’s not quite the same, and really it was more the demogorgon falling out of the Byers’ living room ceiling that did it, she thinks, not really their relationship. It feels more like they laid the foundations, making a sturdy starting point to build the people they would eventually become. Nancy and Steve were never all that great at being Nancy and Steve. There was love there, still is to an extent, but they weren’t soulmates. They’re far better off as friends.
“Would you like to tell me?” She asks, taking another sip of her beer and mirroring Steve’s position to stare at the ceiling and trace shapes in the bumps of the drywall.
“You made me scared to love.”
Nancy turns to look at Steve, expecting him to be looking at her, but he’s not. His face is angled at the ceiling still, eyes shaky but focused on a single spot.
“I’m sorry.” Because again, how is anyone meant to respond to that?
“I know,” he says, a small, not quite genuine smile adorning his face. “I forgive you.”
#Steve Harrington#nancy wheeler#nancy wheeler pov#steddie#stranger things ficlet#implied steddie#jaytrieswriting
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"Girl Of My Dreams" by Fletcher Sentence Starters
20 SOMETHING
"If you wanna see my face again grab some paper and a pen."
"Lately I've been feeling kinda lonely."
"It's kinda like nobody knows me anymore."
"Maybe I've been looking for a stranger."
"Maybe I've been living for the danger of the fall."
"But, oh, aren't we all?
"Everybody says these are the best years of our lives."
"Then why does everyone around me look so lost tonight?"
"With us it's all or nothing."
"Scared of what's next so we keep on running."
"Kiss me, we won't remember."
I THINK I'M GROWING?
"I've traveled so many places in my head."
"So insecure, so quick to fight."
"I didn't know I was so co-dependent."
"I didn't know I had so much resentment."
GIRL OF MY DREAMS
"She/he/they could've been the one."
"Forever only made a couple trips around the sun."
"Tequila doesn't hit no more."
"I got a new rebound."
"I'm falling for me now."
"I'm over being cynical."
SUCKERPUNCH
"I was lost in transit, you found me stranded."
"Guess I didn't know that love could hit me this hard."
BIRTHDAY GIRL
"What you gonna put your lips on now at midnight?"
"Do you think of me?"
"Do you wish you didn't, but you have to?"
"I don't know myself without you and I want to."
"Something can be wrong even if nothing's wrong."
"I know those seem like shitty reasons for calling it off."
"There were so many things I couldn't be for you."
BETTER VERSION
"I was kind, I was warm, I was patient."
"Look at you, you're a star, I'm the reason."
"Honestly, you're new girlfriend/boyfriend should thank me."
"Do you think of me when you fuck her/him/them?"
"It's always the next person that gets the better version."
"I loved you at your worst."
"I fixed your heart, but mine still hurts."
"We were young, we were dumb, we had issues."
"God knows that we tried."
"I did the heavy lifting, but she'll/he'll/they'll get the happy ending."
"Now the credits are rolling, I played my part."
"You were kind, you were warm, you were patient."
"Look at me, I'm a star, you're the reason."
"Now some other person is gonna get the better version of me."
STING
"Do you ever miss me?"
"You chose brand new over history."
"Don't you wish I was your girlfriend/boyfriend still?"
"Don't you wish it worked and we were on again?"
"Why does it sting?"
"Why am I still hung up on things?"
"Are you gonna give that diamond ring that's meant for me to her/him/them?"
"It's all I got left of you and me."
"Do you ever rewind?"
"I've been hurting from the goodbye."
"Feelings, do they ever die?"
"I wish we were on again."
"I still feel you right here every now and then."
"How much longer will it sting?"
"What if we could start clean with no hard feelings between us?"
"What if we could go back and take it all back?"
BECKY'S SO HOT
"Are you in love like we were?"
"If I were you I'd probably keep her/him/them."
CONVERSATIONS
"My head and my heart are at war and I'm stuck in the crossfire."
"I make things complicated."
GUESS WE LIED...
"Here we go again."
"We're not friends, no, we're not lovers."
"You got a new life in just six seasons."
"I only know you in bits and pieces."
"I'm losing my head trying to hold onto something."
"If you're gonna lie, do it in my bed."
"If you're gonna lie to me, make it worth it."
"I guess you didn't tell the truth."
"Just tell me you don't need me."
"Break my heart and make it easy."
"I heard you're better off and you're doing fine."
"I heard that you're in love, good fucking try."
"I know we said forever but I guess we lied."
SERIAL HEARTBREAKER
"I tend to overcomplicate."
"I overlove, I underplay."
"I'm not the best at breaking up."
"A sucker for the fuck me up."
"I like my alone time."
"I want somebody to hold."
"I tend to contradict a lot."
"I love you more, I love you not."
"I hate it when you're there for me."
HER BODY IS BIBLE
"I found God the moment that I put my lips on yours."
"You're so hot, I'm freaking out."
I LOVE YOU, BITCH
"I get lost in the moment."
"I'm constantly dating, cause I crave validation."
"I've confessed to girls and boys and to strangers on the internet."
"I'm kinda impatient."
"I'm fun when I'm wasted."
"I feel things in my bones."
FOR CARI
"Everybody's trying to make me someone else."
"I know sometimes I'm too hard to love."
"I've been drinking, so I'm gonna speak my mind."
"I'll say 'fuck you' to the bad vibes."
"I'm a bad bitch and nothing can scare me."
"Had a lot of feelings but none like this before."
"I am what I am and I ain't nothing more."
"This city's too big for the small things I need."
"I'm done losing sleep over things I can't be."
"I pleased everybody, so this one's for me."
BETTER VERSION (feat Kelsea Ballerini)
"I grew up for our difference in ages."
"I never thought we were subject to changes."
"I did my best to fix it."
"Til death cause then I meant it."
#rp memes#rp lyric meme#rp starters#rp prompts#lyric starters#lyric prompts#roleplay starters#roleplay prompts#sentence starters#not the old me. 2.0 me. no it's all of meme combined (ask meme)#when there was me and queue (queue)
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Wukong dealing with amnesiac macaque, since it's always the reverse
This one was interesting because we don't have a lot of canon information about what Macaque was like when he was younger, so I kinda just... used a lot of fandom hcs about it
tw: mildly suggestive
---------
It's the middle of the night when one of the monkeys jumps onto the small of his back, waking him up with a startled shout.
“Danger stranger demon,” it chitters at him and Wukong feels all vestiges of sleep leave his body instantly.
"Where?" He asks in a dialect too old to be properly human anymore, and the monkey points in the direction of the cliffs.
Wukong leaps to his feet and tells the monkey to gather the rest of the troop and hide until he gives the signal, and the tiny thing determinedly scampers off.
There's a brief moment where he steels himself, hoping he doesn't run across any of his children injured, but he scowls and starts out the door before his stomach has really settled.
There's movement in the trees above where the scout had pointed out, and Wukong wastes no time leaping onto one of the branches to even the footing.
A giggle escapes the shrouded figure hidden in the branches, and the noise must spark some mischievous part of his soul because Wukong can't help the feral grin that plasters itself across his face as he lunges at the still laughing demon.
The figure gracefully dodges him, and falls backwards off the branch they were perched on before Wukong can reach them, his hand outstretched into now empty space.
He sucks in a breath, expecting the crashing of branches or a muted groan or the sound of a body hitting the ground, but instead, there's more giggling from below.
A flash of silvery white fur catches his eye, and for a moment, it's like he's young again, before Heaven, before Puti, the mountain, the journey, all of it.
"Can't catch me, Shi Hou," floats out across a breeze, and he's moving faster than he has in at least two centuries, but as soon as his claws brush white fur, Macaque is gone.
"You used to be faster than that!" Taunts the unglamoured demon, and Wukong yells back, "I don't know what you're playing at, but I won't fall for it!"
"You're not still mad at me for putting your bed in the lake, are you? I said I was sorry!" Macaque pauses, halfway into a shadowy portal, his head tilted and a distressed frown pulling at his mouth.
Wukong stops in his tracks, staring at his old friend before the words process and he blinks.
"What are you talking about? Mac, that was centuries ago."
Macaque laughs. "What are you talking about? That was like… last week!"
Just as that unsettling piece of misinformation reaches him, his phone buzzes in his pocket, and Macaque once more slips into the shadows.
He ignores the device now furiously vibrating, and invokes his gold vision to scan the area for Macaque. When he sees a shadow haunch over like it’s trying to suppress laughter, he lunges forward to tackle the demon.
Macaque yelps as he’s tackled out of the shadows, and they roll for a few feet before Wukong ends up straddling the other, his legs pinning the demon to the forest floor.
It's only once they've stopped moving that Wukong realizes all of Macaque's glamours are down.
His scar is prominent across the left side of his face, practically engraved through his cheek, his eyes each have a shimmering violet iris, his fur is white with swirls of blue and a charcoal singe, and his ears… All six of his brightly glowing ears are out on display without a care.
Wukong, entranced by a sight he hasn't seen in centuries, reaches for them before he can think better of it.
Macaque doesn't flinch from his hand, only closes his eyes and tilts his head to allow Wukong better access, and when the god rubs the bottom most lobe, a steady purr rises from the demon's chest.
The god snatches his hand back like it's been burned, and Macaque pouts before lazily cracking an eye open.
"Why'd you stop?" He whines, and reaches for Wukong's hands, placing them on his ears before his fingers are circling Wukong's wrists.
"I-" Wukong hesitates, and then goes back to gently massaging Macaque's ears, the demon's purr picking back up instantly. His heartbeat seems to triple in his chest as he lets centuries-old memories guide his hands to every spot that has Macaque melting into a puddle.
After a few minutes, Macaque blinks up at him, a steady purple flush covering his cheeks, and then, in less than a second, they've switching positions; Wukong’s back on the forest moss and Macaque's thighs tightening over his own legs.
"Wait, wa-it," Wukong pants out as hands roam his chest and Macaque leans down to bite along his throat.
He can't help the whine that leaves his mouth when Macaque breaks skin, the demon's tongue lapping up golden ichor eagerly.
"Maybe it has been longer than a week," Macaque chuckles slowly, "You're usually not this noisy."
He digs his thumbs into Wukong's hips as he says this, and the god bucks into the bruising grip with a strangled sound.
“Liu er,” He hisses, and Macaque raises a teasing eyebrow.
“That’s my name,” the demon says, his voice low and gravelly before he tugs on Wukong’s earlobe with his teeth.
A squeak that Wukong would forever deny makes its way out of the god’s parted lips and Macaque’s claws had only just started tugging at the front of his robes when the demon pauses for a moment.
“-king? Macaque?” Someone calls in the distance and one set of Macaque’s ears twitches in annoyance.
“Not these weirdos again.” Macaque mutters as he hoists himself off of Wukong.
“What?” Wukong manages to say as he sits up, but Macaque ignores him and slinks into the shadows without another word.
He has to sit and breathe for a second before he remembers his phone in his pocket and fishes the device out, hoping it would hold some answers.
A series of increasingly frantic texts from MK paints an unfortunately clear picture.
MK had accidentally stumbled upon Macaque meditating and woke the poor demon out of his trance, similar to what had happened with him and Pigsy earlier that year. But Macaque, awaking in an unfamiliar environment and surrounded by strangers, had lashed out, demanded to know where Wukong was, and bolted the minute he figured out the god was on FFM.
A series of muffled yells in the distance yanks Wukong’s attention back to the present, and Macaque steps back into view, dragging a very disoriented and tied up MK behind him.
“MK!” Wukong scrambles to his feet and tears the shadows binding MK like ripping tissue paper.
“Oh, is this your newest sworn brother? I swear, you make the family bigger every time I blink.” Macaque shakes his head with a fond grin. “You should’ve said something, bud.”
“I was wondering why he was trying to be so familiar with me earlier, but I guess if you’re close with him,” the demon jerks a thumb towards Wukong, “He never shuts up about me.”
“I-what?” MK whispers to Wukong, and the god shakes his head.
“I do to shut up about you.” The golden monkey scowls.
“Uh huh. Which is why Demon Rhino King knew exactly who I was upon first seeing me and then pointed out my favourite snack on the buffet table within two seconds.” The demon chuckles at the memory.
“DRK was a notorious flirt and you know it. He was just trying to get me all jealous.” Wukong only barely resists crossing his arms as his scowl deepens.
“Doesn’t hide the fact you talk about me enough that your newest friends can pinpoint me out of a crowd and let me know if the venue is serving anything I’d like.” Macaque smirks, wiggling his eyebrows.
“Oh, wow. Okay.” MK breathes, and his hands bat Wukong’s own hands off the kid’s shoulders.
“You’re like…dating, dating.”
“Mates.” Macaque haughtily corrects, and Wukong feels a steady flush return to his face as the bites on his neck throb at the claim.
“Riiight.” MK nods slowly.
“So. Um. Anyways, how about we go back to Monkey King’s place and get something to eat?” MK suggests, his eyes flicking between Wukong and Macaque rapidly. “I don’t know about you, but all this talking and fighting has made me hungry.”
Wukong clears his throat and rises, “Yeah, good idea, kid.”
“You know the way back, Plum?” Wukong asks, and Macaque scoffs.
“I wasn’t gone that long. ‘Course I do.”
“Lead the way, qīn'ài de.” The term of affection slips effortlessly from his lips, and MK gives him a scandalized look as Macaque winks.
“Anything for you Mo Wang.” Macaque waves and starts down the path, leaving MK fake gagging behind him.
“Oh, this is what it’s like when your parents flirt in front of you. Oh. I hate it.” MK chokes out dramatically. “Go back to trying to ki-”
Wukong rolls his eyes and covers the teen’s mouth with one hand.
“How’d?” He juts his chin in the direction of Macaque’s back.
MK stares at him, practically blue screening before understanding lights up his eyes.
Quickly, Wukong removes his hand before MK can get any ideas (the last thing he needs is the kid’s mouth germs on him), and MK takes a deep breath before stage whispering, “Blunt force trauma.”
‘Great. We get to sneak up on a demon who can hear us coming from five miles away.’ Wukong grimaces.
He turns and follows Macaque, MK trailing quickly behind. Halfway to the hut, he sees a curious face poke out of a tree and he makes a shooing motion at the monkey until it sinks back into the foliage.
Macaque leads them back to the falls and gestures for Wukong to leap first with a half grin.
He lowers the wards surrounding the rushing water as he jumps, and lands on the other side before MK joins him seconds later.
With a flick of his wrist, Macaque draws up his own wards to shield the falls as he lands beside them, and Wukong’s heart aches at the feeling of familiar magic that hadn’t graced the cave in years.
Macaque leads them to a firepit and begins to pull out Wukong’s hair, looking at him expectantly. With a roll of his eyes, the god blows on his fur, summoning a pot and various ingredients before Macaque starts throwing them together.
“I forgot you like to cook,” Wukong says softly, and the demon gives him a confused look before haunching back over the pot.
“It tastes better than just transformed food,” the demon defends as he stirs the soup he’d started.
MK takes a deep breath and plucks one of his own hairs, closing his eyes with a determined expression before blowing on the strand. A frying pan materializes in the teen’s hand, and Wukong wants to cover his eyes as his successor slinks behind where Macaque is thoroughly invested in his culinary endeavor.
“And just what do you think you’re doing?” Macaque lazily asks, looking over his shoulder at MK.
MK yelps and swings the frying pan, hitting Macaque square in the face with a loud clang that reverberates throughout the cave. The white furred monkey slumps, a surprised look still on his face as he loses consciousness.
With a grimace, Wukong moves forward and catches Macaque before the demon hits the ground. The god gently brushes white fur back out of his old friend’s face.
“Is he going to be okay?” MK timidly asks, fidgeting with the handle of the frying pan.
“Yeah. I’ll take care of him, you go home.” Wukong flicks his eyes up to MK and offers a brief smile before once more taking in Macaque, trying to re-memorize all the little features he’d nearly forgotten.
“Okay.” MK nods, standing, and turns back to take in one final look at the two monkeys.
Wukong, lost in his melancholy, and Macaque, half pulled into the god’s lap, entirely unaware of the careful fingers skirting his wounds, old and new alike.
#mk has to interrupt a lot of my scenes otherwise i think they'd just get...either really gory or really...steamy lol#lmk#lmk monkey king#lmk wukong#lmk six eared macaque#lmk liu er mihou#lmk macaque#lmk sun wukong#shadowpeach#lmk mk#lmk xiaotian#lmk amnesia rules pt 2 the electric boogaloo#macaque did Not look in a mirror#and it was a good thing too#my writing#answering ask#mo wang means my demon king and macaque totally would call wukong that to fluster/shut him up#tw suggestive
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