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bicth-and-in-that-order · 7 months

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Rambling thoughts of various Yuri manga I’ve read

1. Kase-San and Yamada (Morning Glories sequel series) by Hiromi Takashima

notice how Kase’s name is first, which is representative of her being the main one to cause problems in their relationship

If you asked me what my favorite yuri manga was like 2-3 years ago, I’d say Morning Glories and Kase San everytime. Every avid yuri fan has either read or watched Morning Glories because, at the time in 2010, it was groundbreaking, and I stand by the fact that the original series still holds up to this day. It was cute, sweet, wholesome and only had a few obligatory “we love each other but we’re giRLs😳😳😳” moments. Most of all it wasn’t a pseudo-incest-straight-male-porn-pandering-garbage-fest—also known as “Citrus”. Was it cliche at times? Yes, but they all are lol. Did they add to the dumb ass “blonde femme and dark hair masc” trope? Also yes. But it was adorable and it was my first ever yuri so it holds a special place in my heart.

And it SEEMED like it was only going to get better in Kase San and Yamada, the sequel. The girls would be heading to college and the story could theoretically focus on more mature topics while they navigate their new relationship. Keyword: theoretically. Unfortunately, instead of exploring interesting relationship dynamics and storylines, the plot of each story arc boils down to: Kase is insecure because a man breathed next to Yamada or Kase is being completely insensitive to Yamada’s feelings…again…—> ✨miscommunication drama ✨—>big over dramatic apology scene—>boring makeup sex or other romantic gesture.

Literally that’s how every single plotline goes. Kase is so goddamn dumb and insensitive to Yamada’s feelings and Yamada’s a complete doormat who can only stay mad for 0.2 seconds before getting pussy whipped like a spineless ass bitch. And for all that Yamada sacrifices for Kase; her hometown, her dreams, her apartment, what does she get in return from Kase? Oh that’s right; bare minimum romantic gestures and a neglectful partner who can’t even call her “girlfriend” in front of others:

Like I thought we were over this shit. It’s been THREE years of them together, a whole anime production, and god knows how many irl years and we’re going back to “we love each other but we’re giRLs😳😳😳” WHY???

And then Kase later goes onto bet her entire three year relationship over the ugly bitch in the next panel, so now I’m questioning whether or not Kase even loves Yamada with the amount of bullshit she’s put her through. Which COULD be an interesting plot point, but Kase never gets any consequences for her actions and the creator genuinely thinks this is romantic and full of tension so I’m 10000% positive that this arc, just like all the others, will end with some makeup sex and we’ll be right back to step 1. Sigh.

2. Tamen De Gushi by Tan Jiu

Tamen De Gushi’s problems are interesting but it’s NOT because of the Chinese government💀

So today’s dark haired masc and blonde femme of the day are Sun Jing and Qiu Tong, respectively. Their personalities aren’t anything to write home about, if you read ANY high school yuri romance, then you know exactly what happens in this story beat for beat. But, BUT, however derivative it is, I find their dynamic very endearing and down to earth. Idk maybe it’s just the translation, but other yuri stories often have this very inauthentic “anime” vibe to it. Which is to say the characters act very cutesy, overly dramatic, and have this stilted, caricature-esque acting of how the creator thinks teenage girls are supposed act.

However, I’m happy to report that Tamen De Gushi is a breath of fresh air in this regard. The characters and interactions they have are grounded and feel organic, which makes them feel like real people, not aliens pretending to be human. This really elevates the humor in turn, oh did I mention that Tamen De Gushi is super funny? Because Tamen De Gushi is super funny, here’s one of my favorite panels and it’s all because of Sun Jing’s goofy ahh expression:

Like go girl give us nothing

If you’re wondering why I haven’t spoke much about the actual romantic relationship between the girls, that’s because there isn’t one💀 Which, okay, that’s not a fair assessment, they have a ton of romantic tension and they flirt a lot. It’s certainly building to a great romantic relationship, but it can’t quite get there due to legal/political reasons sadly. 😔

Edit: I received new information in regards to what happened to Tamen De Gushi. While I reached my limit for posting pictures, I want to point out that the Chinese government had nothing to do with Tamen De Gushi getting censored, rather it was a dispute between the author and the publishing company. The prior information I received was false and I prob should’ve looked it up more so sorrrry. The fact still remains though that after their big lesbian kiss towards the middle of the story and maybe a few other moments, that’s just kind of it. You’re stuck waiting for something to develop, but nothing really happens. The comic very quickly becomes a collection of slice of life segments and cute pictures that imply a relationship between the girls, but not really ;) ;). Now things are just kind of left in purgatory for the foreseeable future and, well, that’s Tamen De Gushi y’all.

Compared to Kase San and Yamada, the characters were much better, which is not saying much, but without an actual romantic storyline, there’s just not a lot for me to comment on to be honest. It’s really pretty though, look at this art :

3. Beauty and the Beast Girl by Neji

my personal favorite and the BEST yuri I ever read

So next on the list is Beauty and the Beast Girl (I’m going to abbreviate to BatBG from here on) , which I already spoiled my feelings on the matter so this will basically be me gushing about this story for several paragraphs straight, enjoy.

Contrary to what the title suggests, it really has nothing to do with Beauty and the Beast’s story except in name. The main girls are Lily Blind, who is actually fucking blind 💀 and Heath the monster girl. Already I’m happy because instead of blonde femme and dark hair butch, it’s blonde femme and of-course-you-have-purple-hair-and-pronouns masc. Lol, all jokes aside, Lily, unlike her blonde femme counterparts is quite assertive and voices her opinions all the time. In fact, she’s the one who pushes Heath to be more open and communicate with her rather than the other way around. This is, in part, due to the story BatBG is trying to tell. I say BatBG is in name only to Beauty and the Beast because Lily isn’t trying to find the “beauty” within Heath or learning to love a beast or whatever, she’s fine just the way she is and her love for Heath is unconditional. Plus the only thing beastly about Heath is her appearance…which I’ll harp on later, but her behavior is in no way different from a regular human except in very rare, specific moments.

At its heart, BatBG is a story about forgiveness (the creator literally says as much) , but it’s also about the cycle of violence that results from being outcasted and deprived of love. BatBG is set in a world of humans and monsters, where the monsters are outcasted and either have to stay away from human society like Heath or assimilate themselves by hiding away their monster like traits, which is a really queer narrative on top of an already queer story. I don’t want to go into too much spoilers, but sometime before the beginning of the story, Heath in-directly hurts Lily before they ever meet. However, it’s not about Lily needing to forgive Heath, or trying to get over the pain she inflicted upon her, rather its Heath learning to forgive herself and in effect, learning to love herself as much as Lily loves her.

Another big aspect of BatBG is disabilities, Lily Blind is in fact Blind lol and while there are times she struggles with her blindness, she never views her disability as something she needs to be ashamed of and never, ever, blames Heath for it or holds it against her unlike what many, many, many, many other stories end up doing. Her blindness isn’t treated like a super power either, it’s a legitimate disability. She just accepts that it’s a part of her and goes onto say that if not for her blindness, she would’ve never met the love of her life, which I found to be an incredibly profound thing to say.

Now that I’ve gotten this far, I suppose I can add a bit of a disclaimer. So BatBG is waaaaay more explicit about the physical affection between the girls than in any of the previous stories I talked about. Heath and Lily are constantly kissing on, hugging, and almost always flirting with each other, and make no mistake, these girls do be fucking. The sex scenes are never perverted or gross, but genuinely super sweet and romantic, which makes it way hotter imo (huh imagine that🤔). And aside from being hot, it also serves a purpose! Lily’s pretty damn horny underneath all her nice girl antics and while it’s not a major part of her character, it does give a slight edge to her personality and, most importantly, balances out the dynamic between Heath and Lily. It would’ve been very easy to fall into that boring trope where Heath is aggressively horny and Lily is the submissive blind girl, but by making Lily be the one to initiate the sexual encounters, it not only compliments Heath’s more reserved nature, but breaks the stereotype that people with disabilities are pure precious being who couldn’t possibly have sex, which is ableist af btw. Many people think the existence of any sex scenes at all is superfluous, but in BatBG, it truly elevates the story, the characters, and the romance in ways that wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying without it.

Now, with as much praise I gave BatBG, there is one criticism I have, but it’s a quibble really, and it can be explained in a single image:

There is a dissonance between the story and the art, the story says: “Heath is a big, ugly scary monster”

The art says:

And like yes, it can be argued that Heath is simply regurgitating the things bigoted people have said to her, but at no point in the story is this ever challenged or brought up in any meaningful way. Lily is blind so she doesn’t know what the hell she looks like and the other characters aren’t any help either. It’s not a big deal or anything, it just would’ve elevated the story if Heath was actually kinda ugly/more monstrous and not incredibly beautiful because right now it’s giving skinny girl who calls herself fat all the time, and it’s like, babe, who tf are you fooling? 😭

Other than that, BatBG is incredibly profound despite its premise being so deceptively simple and I love it to pieces so …yeah! READ IT.

4. Superwomen in Love! Honey Trap and Rapid Rabbit by sometime

Well, at least there are no blondes

So imma just abbreviate to SiL btw

Alright, let’s get started. The premise is that a villainess falls for the super hero girl and then that plotline is dropped in about 16 pages. I’m not even joking, the villainess falls for the hero, loses her job as a villain and then joins the hero all in one chapter. The REAL plot is actually about a council of evil alien-humans who want to destroy humanity because of generic super villain reason #434: the leader of the aliens is sad and misunderstood :( I’m not even going to lie, I had 0 interest in “X” (the generic ass name of the main villain) and her band of useless lesbians. They did literally nothing in the story except be a nuisance and contribute to X’s incel breakdown at the end. Their inclusion actively made SiL worse because the story has this weird tonal problem where in one breath the villains are portrayed as complete jokes and then you turn the page and now they’re shooting children like girl what💀 And these useless lesbians hog sooooo much of SiL that desperately needed to be given to Honey trap and Hayate to develop their relationship.

When the story DOES actually focus on Honey Trap and Hayate, it’s pretty good, even cute at times, there just wasn’t enough time given to them to flesh their relationship out. As it stands, Honey Trap and Hayate don’t have much of a dynamic, or personality for that matter. Honey Trap’s main gimmick is that she’s extremely horny for Hayate and delulu:

Aside from that, she’s a great value version of Heath, but even a watered down character is better than, like, nothing. All I really know about Hayate is that she’s nice, heroic, likes wearing tacky clothes and ….that’s it. She loves Honey Trap because…………they fought together a few times so why not🤷‍♀️ I’d say at least that’s better than Tamen De Gushi, but actually it’s not because these grown ass women don’t even kiss , all we get is a love confession and their gremlin love child and that’s supposed to be satisfying I guess.

And the worst part is that SiL has the audacity to pretend the romance was something that it clearly wasn’t:

Girl…yall were “””enemies””” for 10 panels.

Now, it’s stated they have been rivals for a while, but I guess Honey Trap forgot all of that because the moment she sees Hayate’s face, my good sis is pussy whipped for life. And that’s in spite of apparently being the evilest one out of the evil group because Honey Trap has no grudge or baggage toward Hayate. She immediately turns good with no issues and Hayate is only distrustful of Honey Trap for 1 or 2 speech bubbles and then she’s not. Anything else that happened was off screen, which means it didn’t happen. Ironically, the very next entry on this list will do a MUCH better job at an ex-villain love story, but for SiL, there’s just not much going on.

Another reading of this story is to call it a “parody” but…no, it isn’t. SiL isn’t a comedy, yes there are comedic moments that poke fun of the genre, but the rest of the story genuinely wants you to take it seriously. Except it can’t. X and her league of dimwits are boring as piss and they oscillate between Saturday morning cartoon villains and child murderers seemingly on a whim. So I can neither be endeared to them nor take them as a serious threat. Honey Trap and Hayate are there, but I lament on all the potential lost from what could’ve been an amazing relationship.

5. Yamujiburo/Kianamaiart’s Hanamusa webcomic

This one is kind of cheating, but I also don’t care let me talk about hot MILFs💀

So the final entry on this list is a webcomic series by one of my fave artist: kianamaiart! And it’s right here on tumblr so check it out!

I stumbled upon this webcomic a few weeks ago, fell in love and now I want to talk about it. This yuri pair thankfully has no blonde femme in sight and instead features two popular Pokémon characters: Jessie from Team Rocket and Delia Ketchum, Ash Ketchum’s mom. What I love about this ship and the world Kiana creates around them is that it’s a very unconventional pairing. There’s just not many romances where a single mom falls in love with an ex gang member and the best part is, Delia being a mom is a big part of her character and she doesn’t ignore Ash in favor of her new relationship with Jessie. She has time for both and doesn’t prioritize one over the other, which many ppl fail to do even irl so good on you Delia!

Now, as for the romance it self, Jessie and Delia are a unique pair. Jessie’s overconfident, brash, drama queen personality doesn’t automatically put her in the “dominant” role and Delia’s sweet, motherly personality doesn’t automatically put her in the “submissive” role. Their dynamic in the webcomic actually plays out in the reverse, Jessie is the one who gets easily flustered and Delia’s…intense, to say the least:

(But Tbf if Delia looked at me like that I’d be at her beck and call too💀)

This subversion of these tropes creates a fun dynamic for the couple and it’s super adorable to see how their energies bounce off each other in each new situation Kiana puts them in. I also love how both Jessie and Delia inspire each other to live out their dreams and they become better versions of themselves by being together.

And one last thing, I don’t have any smart commentary to go along with this, I just really like this drawing of Jessie:

no thoughts, head empty

Final Thoughts

Soooo yeah, that’s the end of my dissertation on yuri comics. I know I ended up dragging a lot of popular yuri, but it wasn’t my intention to make you guys hate any of things I talked about. These were just my thoughts as an avid yuri fan, so let me know your thoughts as well, especially if you read any of the yuri I talked about. And even though I’m super picky about the type of yuri I read, I’d still love to hear any recommendations. Who knows, it might dethrone the undefeated champ that is Beauty and the Beast Girl.

#Yuri #yuri manga #long post #Anime #manga #lgbt #lgbtq+#wlw post #kase san and morning glories #tamen de gushi #beauty and the beast girl #superwomen in love #hanamusashipping

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taintedcigs · 5 months

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GETAWAY CAR — rockstar!e.m. x f!reader

CHAPTER SEVEN: SHE'S THUNDERSTORMS

← prev chapter // next chapter →

✦ summary: in which corroded coffin performs at the hideout (wc: 9.3k+)

✦ warnings — angst, ANGST, arguments, FINALLY SOME DESERVED FLUFF, jealousy, jealous!menace!eddie, the kiddos make an appearance!!!, uhmm kissing,,, eddie and p are an old married couple, drinking, smoking/weed, uhm thats it i think.

✦ pairings — rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader, past billy hargrove x fem!reader

✦ authors note — not proof-read i tried but i cant do it. pls ignore all mistakes. SO VERY SORRY FOR THE WAIT. hopefully this makes up for it. as usual the song is by arctic monkeys, and the other song mentioned is lover you should've come over by jeff buckley. but we'll pretend like its all by corroded coffin so shshsh.

anyway ily all pls interact + like + reblog to support me! i'd also LOVE LOVE to chat about anything abt this series it literally is my baby!! pls dont hesitate to send me an ask about anything mwah thank you for reading💗

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“Dude, I’m telling you it was not my fault.” Gareth exasperated desperately, hands up in the air in defeat.

But Eddie was quick to shake his head, “You drove her here, how is it not your fucking fault, Gareth?” He spat, bitter and angry.

“She insisted! She wants to apologize to Pinky!”

“What?” Confusion etched across Eddie’s face.

With an annoyed sigh, “Yeah, the whole fuckin’ world has to revolve around her,” Gareth muttered under his breath, knowing that saying anything about you would drive Eddie crazy.

“Watch it,” Eddie warned, mouth downturned in disgust almost immediately.

“What? It’s the truth.”

“Gareth, I’m not gonna tell you this a second fuckin’ time, okay? Don’t do that shit around me and never say one fucking word about her again, you got that?” He gritted through his teeth, his hand unintentionally clenching into a fist.

“Jesus Christ.”

“I mean it,” Eddie spat.

“Fine, fine!” Gareth threw his hands up in defeat, both of them downing their drink before scurrying away.

Shit.

You knew you shouldn’t have been eavesdropping, but it wasn’t your fault. You were just trying to get a drink for the group, surfing through the sea of people—which was unusual for The Hideout. Still, you guessed the only celebrity from Hawkins was enough to have people swarming in, and Gareth and Eddie happened to be chatting right behind you.

Even though it stung to hear Gareth talk of you like you were the fucking anti-christ, hearing Eddie defend you like that had that familiar warmth spread through your entire body. And you hated it, you hated the soft spot you’d always have for him, how it would take you back to five years ago when he would be there for you, every single time.

Fucking great, you had so many people to avoid tonight; Chrissy, Gareth, and Eddie.

With a sigh, you quickly disappeared into the crowd, carrying a tray of drinks for everyone. Plopping it on the booth with a slight sloosh.

Everyone reached for it and you were quick to slap away Max, Lucas, and Dustin’s curious hands. “Oh, come on!” Max protested with a groan.

“Not legal,” you hummed with a narrowed gaze. “Yeah, I’m sure you were legal when you were shotgunning beers and smoking joints like it was your lifeline during senior year,” Lucas mumbled under his breath, quick to get settled into his seat with a huff.

You gasped dramatically, “Lucas Sinclair!” Exclaiming as he gave you a simple shrug.

“So what’s new with you and Mr. Rockstar, now?” He teased, and you narrowed your gaze at Max who snickered underneath her hand.

“Nothing,” You mumbled, shying away from everyone’s gaze on you.

“Good thing, we can always ask the other party, too,” Dustin chimed in with a smirk, head pointing toward behind you.

There was a slow tap on your shoulder and you were quick to jerk your body around.

Of course.

Eddie.

His soft gaze was dumbly addicting, that boyish grin curled deliciously on his lips while amber eyes took you in wholly.

His gaze wandered to your figure, the midnight blue dress embracing your figure, accentuating your curves, its hem grazed against your mid-thigh, allowing him to get a glimpse of your sun-kissed legs, simple but exuding how breathtakingly pretty you were.

He couldn’t place why your brows were so tightly pinched together, or why your arms were crossed against your chest, plump lips downturned with a pout. Still, you looked so pretty, so alluring that he could barely form any sentence.

Mind captured entirely by you, almost feeling paralyzed while he took you in.

“H—hey!” He stammered, awkwardly putting his hands in the back pocket of his chained black jeans. He was just him, and oh, god, you were you.

Plush lips that curled into the prettiest smile, the most captivating eyes, even when you seemingly looked upset, brows pinched together, those glossy lips downturned, you were perfect.

You ignored Eddie’s greeting, your piercing glare was still not that noticeable to him, all he could think about was how beautiful you looked, and how he was glad that he saw you before his set. He wanted nothing more than to see you watching him perform the songs he wrote all about you.

“Wow… Uhh—you look… amazing,” He mumbled, breath getting hitched on his throat when he saw your unreadable expression.

And all you could do was give him a tight-lipped smile. Almost immediately wiping that glow off of his face, face going momentarily blank.

But he should’ve expected this, he knew you wouldn’t jump into his arms at any opportunity, he deserved this. He needed to do more, he needed to win you back.

He opened his mouth to speak, desperate, needing your approval, but you interrupted. “I—I’m going to get a drink,” you mumbled, face flushed with heat, you didn’t know how to act either.

Eddie glanced over at the tray of drinks on the booth, with his head tilted, “there’s a bunch of drinks over there,” he mumbled, he didn’t want you to leave.

“I can see that, but I still want my own,” you sassed with a narrowed gaze, not letting him talk back once you left to go to the bar.

Eddie watched your figure leave with a deep sigh, turning to the booth to take one of the drinks. “I really fucked up, didn’t I?”

“Yup,” Steve muttered with a nod, and Eddie was quick to give him a death glare.

“So, will you finally enlighten us on what happened with you and Mrs. Grumpy over there?” Dustin huffed impatiently, grabbing three drinks from the tray now that you were gone, handing the other two to Max and Lucas with a grin.

“She didn’t tell you guys?”

“No! Which is a shame because she usually can’t say no to my adorable face.” Dustin blinked quickly, batting his eyelashes while Eddie shook his head at him with a chuckle.

“Oh c’mon, Eddie, just tell us!” Max let out an impatient huff, her captivating icy blue gaze was pleading in a way that he could never say no to.

These doofuses would always be his weakness.

“Yeah, Eddie, pretty please?” Lucas added exaggeratedly, mocking Max as she hit him in the chest playfully.

“Fine, fine!” He sighed, running his hand over his forehead in frustration.

“But nothing really happened and I don’t think it’s—” When he felt everyone’s gaze piercing through him, he was quick to shut up. “Okay, okay!” He huffed.

“She came to my trailer guns ablaze and then just slammed the note against my chest, calling me a coward, and then I told her off—”

“Wait what?” Max was quick to interrupt him, brows pinching together.

“Yeah, I told her I wasn’t the one who left.”

“Uh, I’m sorry, didn’t you kiss Chrissy in front of her?” Max taunted.

“Yeah, and did you not bring her to Steve’s?” Dustin added.

With a huff, he turned back to Steve. “Jesus, Harrington, did you gang up all of them against me?” He just gave Eddie a shrug.

“That’s not even the point! Everything has just become too convoluted with us,” He spat, anger returning quicker than you intended to, while the rest of the gang sipped their drinks with an ‘oof’.

“It’s not convoluted, just tell her how you feel!” Max inquired, gently, almost like she was trying not to tip him off.

“I—” He took a deep breath. I will. He wished to say, but saying it out loud felt too real. And you were right, he was a coward.

“I’m gonna properly apologize and make things right by her,” he muttered, taking a big sip from his drink.

“You better hurry up, rockstar,” Steve taunted smugly, the weird face he pulled was making crinkles appear on Eddie’s forehead.

Eddie’s head cocked toward Steve, aggressively. “You better tell her how sorry you fucking are.”

With an all-knowing snort, Steve’s finger accusingly pointed towards something behind him. “Or someone else might swoop in.”

“Fuck off, Harrington,” Eddie mumbled, rolling his eyes before he turned around with a huff.

Oh, shit.

Everyone’s gaze turned toward Steve’s accusatory finger, a slight ‘shit’ escaping from Robin’s lips which Nancy elbowed gently to shut her up.

Eddie could barely move, his entire face feeling hot and jaw clenching involuntarily, jealousy shooting through him faster than the alcohol swimming in his system.

Because there you stood, in front of the bar, with your head tilted sideways, a pretty grin sitting on your lips, mellow gaze looking up at the guy in front of you—dirty blonde, hair cut shorter than Eddie’s but almost as long as Steve’s, wearing the most expensive and tidy outfit Eddie had ever seen—making him feel stupid for choosing to wear those black chained jeans.

His scowl was anything but pretty, brows furrowing in a way that made him look like a complex puzzle, eyeing the way this stranger was touching you.

“Oh, isn’t that—” Robin spoke up, and the entire table shushed her because they also realized exactly who that was.

James.

Your ex, not Billy, of course, the other douchebag before Billy.

He really wasn’t much of a douchebag, a genuine, nice guy, and to make matters worse he was a total gentleman; attributes Eddie would never call a typical high school Jock.

The relationship only ended because he went to college one too many states away, the distance getting between the two of you, but Eddie always referred to him as ‘the douchebag’ The jealous feeling sunk into his chest even then.

Rich kid, a jock in high school, older than both of you, someone who had his life together. Everything that Eddie never was. Everything Eddie always wished to be.

But now, seeing you with him made something almost click in Eddie’s head, like he was meant for you as he suited you much better than Eddie ever would.

He could treat you much better than Eddie would, sure Eddie had his name now, the riches he never had back in high school. But he was still just Eddie.

And he was certain James never kissed Chrissy, he’d never fuck up like Eddie did.

He watched the way your eyes lit up when he was animatedly talking, his gentle touch on your arm, the smile that curled on your lips.

What if he asked for your number? What if he wanted to reconnect? What if you said yes? Just because Eddie had been a total fucking idiot and couldn’t see what was right in front of him?

He tried so hard to push the idea of the two of you together back into his mind. To make sure it never left, to make sure it never manifested.

But the way his jaw clenched and the deadly glare burning through both of you showed that he couldn’t.

He was jealous, a type of jealousy that quickly translated into anger, one he could almost feel on his skin, hot and prickling rage stabbing into his body, agonizingly slow, making it harder for him to stay glued there and not do anything the more he eyed the hold James had on you. He was standing too close for Eddie’s liking.

Usually, he’d let this feeling sink back into his mind, take a breather, smoke a couple of cigarettes, and then act like nothing was wrong for the rest of the night while he spent it sulking. Keep that rage caged in his chest, so he could keep his feelings contained.

But he couldn’t do that this time, no. He wasn’t going to be stupid enough to let you slip through his fingers, not again. He was going to fight for you, he was going to show you that you belonged with him.

No matter what Mr. Fancy Pants could offer to you, he needed to tell you how he really felt, he needed to make sure you knew. Because even if he could feel the insecurities jabbing into his brain, he always knew, deep down that there was something there between the two of you. Something always left undiscovered because both of you were cowards.

He couldn’t let that happen again, he wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

“Oh, I get the appeal now,” Max murmured, breaking the silence between everyone, and earning a hard glare from Eddie.

“What? He seems nice, has pretty hair, much better than Steve’s, and that outfit probably cost more than your wedding,” Max spoke bluntly, now earning more than just the hard glare of Eddie, mouth hung open Steve looked offended, Nancy and Jonathan narrowed their gaze, but Robin snickered behind her hand, almost giving Max her approval.

“Max!” Lucas reacted before them and Max furrowed her brows, a smirk earning her way to her lips. “You’re still my number one Lucas, don’t worry,” She hummed, pinching Lucas’ cheek and ignoring Dustin’s groan.

“Dude, why would you do that?” Dustin whispered, eyeing Eddie worriedly while nudging Steve by his jacket.

With a dramatic huff, Steve pulled his collar back, “Relax, I know what I’m doing.”

Eddie’s fingertips absentmindedly traced the rim of the glass in front of him, his eyes never leaving the two of you when he downed the drink, slamming it back on the booth, making everyone flinch.

“I’ll be right back,” Eddie muttered, a forced chuckle escaping his lips.

“What are you even going to do?” Robin inquired, almost mocking.

A smirk landed on Eddie’s face. “I’m not going down without a fight, Buckley.”

“Not this fucking time,” he hissed, almost all the brows of the gang raising at his determination.

“I’m gonna tell her how I feel, and I’m not letting another douchebag ruin this,” Eddie mumbled, and a dumb smirk was placed on everyone’s face almost too quickly.

He was going for it, and the soap opera was continuing, the gang watched in excitement.

“Was he ever really a doucheba—” Dustin’s worries were quick to die down when he threw him a deadly glare.

Without another word, he stormed off to the side of the bar. Quick, too fucking quickly that it almost gave him a whiplash. He didn’t know what had taken over him, eyes burning the back of their figures as everyone else at the table watched him with a proud look.

But the child-like jealousy he felt within his body was uncontainable, it felt like his face was almost too hot to touch, he was desperate, quite literally.

The tap on James’ shoulder was anything but gentle, making him turn to Eddie with his pair of brows furrowed, and Eddie’s muscles were quick to tense.

His dark gaze only softened when he looked back at you, muscles relaxing, and creased brows returning to their normal form.

The jealousy eased inside of him, not dissipating quite enough, but slowing with one gaze from you.

Back in the booth, with another sip from his drink, Lucas huffed, “Five bucks says they’ll confess by tonight.”

Robin was quick to snort at him, “You’re trusting them too much, kid, Steve’s ‘little push’ might help them,” She mumbled with a roll of her eyes. “But Jesus fucking Christ, just look at her face, she’s going to go off at him. The most they’ll probably do is have another fight, get just a little bit close to talking about their feelings, and then do it all over again.”

Steve, ignoring Robin’s theories, exclaimed with a smirk. “Ten bucks that Pinky will sleep with Eddie tonight!”

“I second that,” Max said with a grin.

“Steve!” Nancy warned with a disapproving tut.

“What?” He huffed.

“They’re kids!”

“We’re nineteen!” Max groaned.

“I turn twenty next month!” Dustin chimed in.

“Still!”

“Fine, fine!” Steve sighed with a glare at Nancy, “Then ten bucks that they’ll kiss tonight!”

“No fucking way.” Robin shook her head.

“Nah, they’ll at least kiss tonight,” Jonathan said with crossed arms.

“Are you guys seriously betting on our friends?” Nancy said with a furrowed brow.

They all nodded vigorously, “Fine,” Nancy muttered.

“Then I second Steve, ten bucks for them sle-kissing.” Nancy corrected herself, earning a wicked grin from Steve.

“Come on!” Robin groaned, dissatisfied by Nancy’s answer.

“I agree with Robin,” said Dustin with a shrug.

“Finally!” Robin exclaimed, hands rubbing together in victory. “Someone with common sense. There’s no way those idiots are going to do anything but fight, just watch her come back here, all fuming about how much she hates Eddie.”

They all shrugged, going back to continue watching the soap opera unravel in front of them.

“James!” Eddie greeted with faux excitement, a grin playing on his lips, amber gaze remaining on you. With your brows creased, ‘What the fuck are you doing?’ you mouthed behind their awkward hug.

He shrugged, and his hands clutched James’ shoulder harshly, making him chuckle awkwardly. “Munson, the man of the hour!” He greeted him with a beaming smile.

He really was too nice for his own good, wasn’t he?

“I’d ask what you were up to, but it seems you’ve been doing just fine, rockstar,” James exclaimed, returning a friendly slap to Eddie on his shoulder—in a much nicer way than Eddie intended with his.

You smiled uncomfortably, your gaze still throwing daggers at Eddie, who was actively avoiding it. “I have to say that last album? Fucking Christ, had it playing over and over again for days.” He beamed again, much to both of your dismay.

That all-knowing smirk on Eddie’s face disappeared, the unexpected compliment seemed to make him uncomfortable, conflicting with the defensive walls he had put up.

“Uhh—thanks man,” he chuckled awkwardly, casting a quick, scrutinizing glance at you, catching the small smirk on your lips.

“What have you been up to?” He asked, curiously, desperate to know what the two of you were talking about, nervous to see if the two of you would do anything more than this.

The confidence in the way James held himself, his slicked hair, his fancy outfits up close, Eddie’s insecurities washed him over once again. Now with that part of his brain convincing him that the two of you would somehow end up together again.

“Oh, you know, I was just in town, got a nice job here, thought I’d stop by to see Corroded Coffin play, been seeing the posters everywhere—great marketing by the way,” He hummed, flashing Eddie a smile.

And Eddie returned a forced one, lips pursed together in annoyance. “and then I thought I’d get a drink, but then I heard this familiar voice next to me, yelling to the guy next to her to fuck off for attempting to steal her drink, and I thought oh that’s Pinky.” Eddie couldn’t help but not keep his gaze on you, studying your features, almost gauging your reaction, trying to nitpick something to fuel his jealousy.

“Been a long time, but I’d never miss this one’s sassy voice and that pretty face,” He mumbled with a sly smirk, making Eddie’s face scrunch and almost making him scoff out loudly.

“Oh, stop it!” You mumbled with a smile, all flattered, and Eddie’s gaze narrowed, jealousy overtaking him again.

“So you two are… reconnecting for the old times' sake, huh?” Eddie asked through gritted teeth and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Eddie—”

With a smile, James turned to you, “I mean I’d love to grab a drink, are you free tomorrow?”

“Ah! I wish I could, but I need to help Nancy out with some wedding stuff.”

“How about next wee—”

“She’s busy,” Eddie interjected quickly.

“Eddie!” You warned with your brows raised, heat rising to your cheeks, what the fuck was he doing?

“Can I just—steal you away for a minute?” Eddie turned to you with his jealous gaze, hand gently having a hold on your arm.

“Oh, sure, man!”

“No!” You and James exclaimed in unison.

James stared at the two of you with his brows furrowed, both of you breathing heavily, an intense gaze connecting the two of you. With a sigh, you followed him out of the crowd, an apologetic smile thrown toward James.

“What the hell are you doing?”

You scoffed, “Me? What the hell are you doing, Eddie?” You snapped, naze garrowing.

“I’m not locking lips with James that’s for sure!”

“Jesus Christ I was not locking lips with—” You halted abruptly, the absurdity of the sentence hitting you like a wave. Taking a moment to breathe, “What are you a child?”

“Well, if pointing out the obvious means I’m a child then so fucking be it!” The words tumbled out of his mouth harshly, almost lost in the din of the bar.

“The obvious? Do I need to remind you that you were the one who kissed Chrissy?” You accused sharply, your anger returning and cutting through Eddie’s jealousy like a knife.

“Look, I—I’m genuinely sorry for that, Pinky, I am. I should’ve never done that, it was a mistake—” His voice strained, getting lost amidst the background clamor, their set was about to start and Eddie could careless.

He took a step closer, but you didn’t budge. “You don’t kiss someone as a mistake, Eddie! You don’t invite them to brunch as a fucking mistake!” You snapped, tone a poignant mix of bitterness, jealousy, and an equal amount of hurt. Teary yet ablaze gaze bored into Eddie's, breaking his heart more and more.

His shoulders sagged under the weight of your words, the realization of the irreparable damage sinking in.

He took a step closer, a desperate attempt to bridge the emotional gap.“Will you just listen to me?” Eddie's plea hung in the air, the room seemingly shrinking as you and Eddie’s gaze connected. Your breaths mingled, heavy with unspoken words that pulsed between you.

Only inches apart, and you couldn’t help it when your gaze drooped down to his lips, then back to his mellow eyes.

“Eddie, this is the fifth fucking time they’ve been calling you.” Gareth’s irritating voice snapped the conversation, loud enough to have you almost jump back, as you threw Gareth a daggering gaze.

“Just fucking wait for a second,” Eddie spat, trying to dismiss him, but the moment was gone.

And Gareth wasn’t having it. “No way, dude we go on in like five minutes,” He scoffed, momentarily dragging Eddie by his arm.

“Fine, fine!” Eddie scowled, shaking off the hold.

“You should uh— go.”

“Let me explain,” He almost begged, desperate.

But with another dismissal, you left.

Eddie wanted to drop everything and run to you, apologize, tell you what he felt, but somehow, some way he was always managing to fuck up the things between the two of you, now.

It was like he was fourteen again, his dad letting him know that he always managed to fuck up something good, that he was destined to the Munson name. Like he could never manage to do something right.

Wayne, Jonathan, Corroded Coffin, and Nancy all changed that belief.

But, you? Oh, god, you made him believe that he was good, you pulled him out of that darkness, you were the first one to believe in him, you were the one who encouraged him. You made him feel like he was on the right path, always.

And you were the one who mattered, if he didn’t have you believing that now, what else did he have?

With a hand on his shoulder, Jeff was dragging him back, he stared at your figure leaving, and with a sigh, he headed backstage.

Aurora was the fifth song they sang, and it should’ve gotten to you, the way his gaze didn’t leave yours, how vulnerable he sounded, the way he barely even made eye contact with the guitar he was supposed to be focusing on, that should’ve gotten to you.

But it didn’t.

Your glossy gaze and your crossed arms, as everyone else around you cheered for him, did nothing but upset you more and more.

Everything was so confusing that you couldn’t even make sense of yourself anymore. Yes, you were mad about everything with Chrissy, but you also knew he didn’t know everything that transpired between you and her.

Chrissy and Billy should’ve been enough for him to not want anything to do with her, yet you still believed him when he told you it was a mistake, that he would’ve never done it if he knew. And the pool… the things he said in the car. Hours ago when you went to his trailer.

Sure, he was sorry, and he said he’d prove himself to you.

But none of you ever out loud said anything, it had always been a cowardice dance around your feelings, and you were afraid that if this dance ended, then it would be all too real. It would all be over.

A heave of breath exited your lips, attempting to drown away the worries, but they were spiked up the second the song ended and Eddie spoke up again.

“This next song is for my friends over there, Nancy and Jonathan,” He exclaimed with a grin, finger excitedly pointing towards the two of them, it was the first time his gaze had left yours, involuntarily your head turned to your right.

“They’re getting married this weekend, and were kind enough to let me and my dipshit friends play,” He said with a sheepish grin, and Nancy and Jonathan shyly smiled at him, waving him off in a dismissive way,

“So this is for the soon-to-be newlywed couple, and for the special girl next to them, who’s mad at me for a lot of reasons, and she has every right to be, I was a total ass.” He earned chuckles and some cheering from the crowd, who unintentionally all faced you.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but hey, maybe this might help my case, huh?” He said with a grin, his gaze was dangerously addicting, full of promises, and you couldn’t help the way it made stupid butterflies appear in your stomach.

It was so easy for him to get you like this, you were starting to feel pathetic.

Speechless, and the heat quick to rise to your cheeks, you were trying to ignore the whispers and stares from the crowd, but it was basically impossible.

The opening chords were enough to rattle your memory, the dreamy guitar riffs from Eddie sweeping in echoing the space as if it was just the two of you.

You knew exactly which song he was playing.

And the vocals, added with Eddie’s smooth, sultry voice were enough to have your heartbeat raising making you almost feel small, haziness overtaking your mind.

And it only brought back one memory to your mind.

FIVE YEARS AGO.

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA.

Another job interview, another opportunity you feel like you have missed.

It hadn’t been long since the two of you had arrived in Los Angeles, yet every passing minute felt like you had been wasting away your time, you needed a job, and no one in stupid LA was hiring you.

A groan escaped your lips when you plopped yourself onto the couch, right next to Eddie who was way too into scribbling something into a notebook.

Wait… was he using the…?

“Is that… the notebook?” Your eyes lit up happily. It was such a small, stupid thing.

But for you, it was important. That notebook was important. And you never actually thought he’d care about it, but it looked like he was carrying it in his back pocket.

“Is that a crime?” Eddie sassed.

With a scoff, you narrowed your gaze. “No, doofus! I just didn’t think you’d actually use it.”

Almost taken aback Eddie sat up straight on the couch, knees brushing against yours now. “Are you kidding? Half of this bad boy is filled with lyrics.”

“What is the other half made of?” You asked with a dangerous grin.

“You’d have to kill me to find out.” Eddie enunciated dramatically, tone drooping lower to mimic mystery.

“Oh, come on!” You huffed, curiosity getting the best of you. Scooting closer to him, you pouted. “Can’t you at least give me something?” You asked, all doe-eyed, tone sticky sweet, in a way that always got to Eddie.

“Oh, sweetheart,” He groaned, almost melting into you, “You know I’ll give you anything if you ask that sweetly.”

You grinned happily, clapping your hands together in victory once he ripped up a page and handed it to you.

“That is the chorus of a song I’m working on,” He mumbled, eyes nervously following you, waiting to read your reaction.

She's thunderstorms

Lying on her front, up against the wall

She's thunderstorms

Your eyes blinked quickly to process everything. It had been not too long since the both of you had come to L.A., Eddie was desperately trying to send the band’s best material to any label who was willing to sign them.

And you had just gotten out of a horrible relationship, things had not been steady enough for the two of you to ever discuss anything about your feelings, always tip-toeing around it, but too scared to ever actually delve into it.

Yet, you could tell this was about you, something about being described as thunderstorms stuck to your mind, maybe he somehow meant it as good. But all it reminded you of was destruction. And he wasn’t wrong.

It was like everywhere you went, something horrible followed, exactly like a dark cloud looming over, waiting to strike anyone daring to be near you.

Your hand flew to your mouth, teeth grazing through your nails anxiously. “Who’s this thunderstorm girl?” You asked, masking your nervousness with a brittle smile.

He snatched the notebook back, ignoring your little huff. “Someone I went to school with,” He answered cooly and then leaned further into your face with a grin. “I was drivin’ around one day, then saw this girl’s car on the side of the road, to be nice I helped fix her car but then she became totally obsessed with me.” He recalled the first time he met you, animatedly.

“Oh, is that so?”

“Yeah, didn’t leave me alone for years.”

With a narrowed gaze, “Asshole,” you bantered.

“That’s so weird,” He hummed with a smirk “That was her favorite nickname for me,” quipped Eddie and you stuck your tongue at him childishly.

With a slight push on his elbow, he drew closer to you. “So… what did you think?” He coaxed nervously, you could tell it was important to him, yet being this close was making your mind spin.

“I like it,” you muttered, unable to face his beautiful features when he was so close, and your mind spinning with the fact that Eddie thought of you as destructive, too.

“That’s it? You… just like it?”

“No that’s not it, it’s just—” With a sigh you snatched back the notebook from his hands. “It’s just… isn’t this bad?”

“What?” His brows creased together in worry, “W-which one did you not like I can change it-” You shook your head, interrupting his anxious ramble.

“No! I love all of them! But describing… uh—this girl,” Tip-toeing around it, causing Eddie to smirk. “As thunderstorms? Isn’t that bad?”

“No, not at all. It’s a metaphor.” He shook his head, explaining gently.

“She embodies the essence of thunderstorms—unpredictable and explosive. She has the power to create chaos and destruction, and on the surface that might sound bad, yet within that destruction she sparks a new life. You know, making it so much better,” He hummed, licking his lips.

“And she also feels like a thunderstorm, intense and electrifying, shaking up your life, in the best way possible.”

“Oh. Wow,” You mumbled, gaze turning mellow with how well he explained everything, heart melting with how he saw you, not just from the surface, like he could peel the intricate layers of your existence, appreciating every part of it.

“Uhh, then I love that actually,” you concluded with a smile, attempting to mask the fluttering in your stomach. Did he really see you in that way?

Did he really see you as someone worth all of this? You tried to ignore the tears prickling in your eyes, begging to pour out, but you weren’t going to ruin this moment.

You didn’t deserve him. In the slightest. He didn’t deserve to get caught up in your bullshit. You shouldn’t have dragged him here. You were being selfish, but, god, did it feel good.

To finally feel safe, to finally have someone take care of you, to finally have someone you could rely on. After everything, didn’t you at least deserve to be a little selfish?

But that feeling ate away at you, even though you shook it off for the moment, it was eventually going to return. And it did.

“You do?” His brows raised in surprise, it made you want to fuck all and just grab his cheeks and kiss him, lips plush together until the two of you couldn’t breathe.

But you couldn’t afford that, you couldn’t afford the feelings, nor could you afford the fallout. You couldn’t lose him.

“Mhmm,” You answered with a broken smile, hoping he wouldn’t notice. He always did.

“She sounds special.”

“She is,” Eddie agreed, eyeing you with a worried look. “Very, very special,” He repeated, he could tell something was off.

But it was okay, because he was here for you now, and he wasn’t going to leave.

NOW:

Suddenly the room felt suffocating.

Eddie’s gaze on you felt mocking.

It was stupid, he had just dedicated the song to you, yet all your mind could focus on was everything bad that had happened. Ruining everything good that happened with him.

How were you even going to be with him if you couldn’t even handle this?

Fear, trust issues, being afraid of not knowing how things were going to go, if you would fuck this up too, then that was it for you. No one else could compare, and you knew that.

Maybe if you just knew that the same went for Eddie, if you just could see that the five years you spent apart had been just as hell-ish for him if not more. The constant thoughts in his mind reminded him that he could never be over you, truly. Sure, it hurt less now, but the scar was still there, scabbing the second someone mentioned you. The realization of knowing no one could ever be you etched onto his skin.

“Hey… you okay?” Steve’s concerned voice snapped you out of your thoughts, Eddie’s voice served as a background noise while his gaze was still stuck on you.

“Y-yeah, I just—” You faltered, face growing numb and anxiety increasing when you suddenly needed some air.

Too much, all of it was too much.

Eddie could almost sense it, he grew worried at your frowny brows and your tear-streaked gaze.

“I’ll be right back,” you mumbled, body jerking back scurrying out quickly when you ignored everyone calling out for your name.

Eddie’s vocals almost halted, missing a few notes on the guitar before Gareth was quick to snap him back to it.

His head cocked toward your direction, desperate, nearly begging to stop the show, but all of them shook their head quickly, and once Eddie turned back to see the look on Jonathan and Nancy’s face, he realized he couldn’t do this to them.

This was his friends' wedding, and he owed this to them. When the song ended, he was quick to mouth to the others, “After the next song, we’re taking a break.” It wasn’t a request, it was final.

And frankly, the rest of them were too tired out to even argue with a hot-headed Eddie.

“So how is your plan working, dingus?” Robin jeered at Steve.

“Shut up.”

There were a couple more people outside, all leaning against the wall, chuckling while talking over each other loudly, the smoke of their lit cigarettes quick to take over your senses.

With a cough, you leaned further away from them, mind still unraveling what had just happened. You didn’t even know what was happening anymore.

You wanted to smoke, hand itched to reach for the pocket of your jacket and light one to take away your stress, but you could barely breathe as it was right now.

A light tap on your shoulder snapped you away from your thoughts.

Who was it now?

You huffed loudly when your head cocked back.

Fucking great.

Chrissy.

“Oh, Jesus Christ!” You pinched the bridge of your nose in annoyance, this just had to be your luck, your feet picked up quickly, hand quick to reach for the door and go back inside.

“Please, please don’t leave,” She pleaded.

Your hold on the door remained, barely glancing back at her, “Just leave me alone!” You snapped.

“I just want to apologize, please, then I’ll leave you alone, forever.”

“Please, just five minutes.”

You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t.

Your hold on the door faltered, and with a deep sigh, you turned to her. “Fine.”

“Five minutes,” You warned, your patience already wearing thin.

Her face lit up, blinking a few times to make sure she heard you correctly. “O-oh, okay, good,” She cleared her throat.

“First of all, I’m sorry, for everything, for what I said five years ago, for what I did with Billy, for using what he did to you like a fucking joke. For w-what I said about your parents.” She stammered.

“It’s too late, I know, I fucked up, I shouldn’t have done any of those things, you didn’t deserve it. You deserved a better friend, someone like you.” She almost looked at you like she was waiting for your approval, gauging your reaction, your expressionless face encouraged her to continue.

“I was bitter, jealous. Which isn’t a fucking excuse, I know, I was just—” she took a deep breath. “You were everything I wanted to be, careless, had all the boys' attention, and you didn’t even have to try, you didn’t have to do anything, and they’d just fall at your feet. And I was stupid, bitter, and insecure enough to envy that.”

“That’s not my problem, Chrissy.” You spat out with your gaze narrowing, you couldn’t handle her pity party right now.

“And really, you wanted to be me? Chrissy I didn’t have parents, my boyfriend was a narcissistic asshole.I was broke.” You scoffed with an ironic chuckle, shaking your head in anger.

“I know, I know. It was stupid, and I was stupid, and you didn’t deserve any of that.” Sincerity. Something you haven’t seen from her in years.

“I just wanted to tell you that none of it was your fault.” Now your gaze narrowed, a chuckle rolling on your lips.

You opened your mouth to speak, to protest. “No, I know you’re going to say you didn’t think that but I know you do. Even though you hate me, which I don’t blame you, I know you like the back of my hand, you blame yourself, you always did it. And I’m telling you shouldn’t because it was all my fault. A-and I shouldn’t have done whatever I did with Eddie, I practically took advantage of him like he did to me and then got mad at him, oh god, I’m such a fucking bitch, aren’t I?”

Your eyes blinked quickly to process all of it. Her apology didn’t mean anything, her words didn’t mean anything. But deep down, you knew she was right, even if you wouldn’t admit it. Because you spent many nights blaming yourself, for even opening up to them in the first place.

“First of all, breathe,” you mumbled with annoyance.

“Second of all, yes you are,” you huffed.

“And, taking advantage? What do you mean?”

“Some fucked up part of me wanted him because I knew you wanted him back then, a-and he was right there and he was being nice to me and—” Chrissy took a deep sigh, big blue eyes staring into you knowing that you were not going to like what she was going to say.

“I should’ve known.”

With puckered brows, you crossed your arms against your chest. “Known what?”

“That he was still hung up on you,” she muttered.

You were quick to roll your eyes, “Chrissy—”

“No, no just listen.” But she wasn’t going to let you spiral.

“Look you were dumb enough then—” You threw her a glare, so daggeringly cold that she stopped.

“Sorry,” she muttered before continuing, “Look, the two of you wasted a lot of time. And I know it’s funny hearing this from me because I took part in it, but I’m only saying this because he’s a nice guy, even though I don’t particularly like him right now, he’s a nice guy, and you deserve someone like him.” She enunciated, azure hues embodying such sympathy that had you taken aback.

“You loved him back then, too. I could see it, and I could see it in him, too. That’s what I always wanted, and maybe that’s why he intrigued me so much. But I knew he never got over you.”

You could feel your heart skip a beat, it wasn’t anything new, but hearing this from her, it meant something.

You needed to take control of your feelings, and hearing Chrissy’s words was doing nothing but fuel them more. “Chrissy stop—”

“No, Pinky! He told me! He told me it was you! It had always been you!” She exclaimed, her face growing a nice pink color as you stood frozen.

Your brain felt mushy, rest of your body felt so warm, but still that anger lingered. Why couldn’t he just tell you this? Why couldn’t he just show you?

“What?” You mumbled, brows pinched together.

“Yes!” She exclaimed, sighing at your reaction.

“Look, I just wanted to tell you this, and tell you to get your head out of your ass. I know I’m the last person you wanted to hear this from, but I had to at least make one thing right for you because I know I fucked up every other thing.”

You wanted to tell her to stay the fuck out of it, you wanted to tell her it was all because of her. That she basically ruined your life. But it wasn’t true. It wasn’t all her, it was Billy, too. It wasn’t all her, Eddie played a part in it, too.

But you weren’t going to waste your breath, you didn’t need to blow up in her face for her to know she was wrong, she needed to let that feeling sink in. You weren’t going to forgive her, and you didn’t need to make a fuss about it to feel real.

This was it. A closure.

“I’m sorry, for everything. And I know that you won’t forgive me, but that’s okay. I’m sorry, but please listen to what I just said. Please don’t get in your head and try to ruin something this perfect, okay?”

A peaceful smile appeared on your lips, and you took a deep breath. “You’re right, I won’t forgive you.” You weren’t going to give her any satisfaction or approval, her words didn’t mean a thing.

“Goodbye, Chrissy.” You mumbled.

You could see her stammering, struggling to open her mouth, because she couldn’t say anything else, and this is what she promised, five minutes. It was over.

You backed yourself against the wall, fingers fishing out the pack of cigarettes sitting in the pocket of your jacket.

Without having anything else left to say, she left. And you heaved a sigh of breath, the tip of your cigarette smoldering when you lit it.

You inhaled with eyes squeezed shut, head swirling with much to think about. But at least you were alone. Finally, some space for you to think, and to lay out a little bit of your stress with the most unhealthy outlet.

And of course, that peace lasted for about a few minutes, just when you had finished your cigarette, squishing the remains on the nearest trashcan, Eddie appeared, lightly squeezing your arm to have your attention.

“What?” You snapped when you saw him, eyeing the way he looked taken aback.

His hands held up in front of his chest in defeat, clearly not understanding your sudden rage. The laughter around you had died, people who were smoking outside the bar were clearly more entertained by your drama.

With a huff, you dragged Eddie away from it all, still close to the bar but far away to not have any other distractions.

He sighed, brows etched with worry. “Why did you leave?”

Your hand flew to your forehead, trying to calm your nerves, trying to clear your mind. “Eddie, are you kidding me?” You scoffed, arms wrapped across your chest defensively. “You can’t just drag me away from James, dedicate songs to me and—”

His forehead puckered. “Why not? They’re all about you anyway,” he said with a sly smirk.

“Aurora, She’s Thunderstorms, Zero, Forget Her, Resolve, Fool, two fucking albums, all dedicated to you, you know that.”

“These notes? These stupid notes I’ve been carrying?” He huffed loudly, hand quick to fish inside of his back pocket, aggressively flipping through the pages. “Even if every nerve in my body were numb I’d still be able to feel her.” He turned the page toward you before flipping again.

“I have tried to forget you but I can’t, you invade my dreams, my mind, my whole fucking life. You’re stuck in me and I don’t have the heart to get you out.” He shook his head, reciting it all like it was nothing, but you felt all of it.

His notes making you dizzy. His words scrambling your mind like never before.

“She’s the tear that hangs inside my soul forever. That one is uh—in a song, too,” he mumbled, cheeks flushing with how passionate he was getting, and you held your breath, it’s like you were staring into his soul.

Stark naked. Laying bare, he really was doing this. And you didn’t want him to stop, even though your mouth suggested otherwise.

“And so much more embarrassing stuff that I don’t want to include to not ruin my chances,” he muttered with a lazy smile, and you hated that you could feel it in your skin, the flutters, stomach flipping in the best possible way.

“All fucking about you. Because it was you, from the moment we met.”

“S—stop,” your mouth betrayed you, it was the furthest thing from the truth, and you needed to hear more. You needed the reassurance, you needed him to convince you. More than anything in the world.

But it was all so scary, and he was so close to you that you could feel his passion integrated into your veins.

“Why, Pinky, why should I stop? Why do we have to tip-toe around each other, huh?” He was desperate, eyes flashing with a newfound of desire for you, he wasn’t going to let it go this time.

And it scared you, him being this determined, getting so close to what you actually felt was making your skin crawl, because the way you could feel your heart thumping against your ribcage wasn’t normal. What he was making you feel wasn’t normal. “Because w—we can’t!”

“We can’t what?” He complained, a deep sigh escaping his lips.

“W—we can’t do this, you can’t—”

He shook his head with his brows puckered. “Who are you to decide that? I want to, I so badly want to,” He spat, taking a step closer to you, face merely inches away from you.

His gaze was dangerously inviting, those alluring amber eyes melted into yours, making your pupils dilate, breath hitching as you struggled to keep him away. “Please, Eddie, d—don’t.”

You gulped, hand raising to put a space between the two of you, but it was impossible. He was in your veins now. “Too much has happened, you with Chrissy and—” You didn’t even know what you were blabbering about, just anything to stop your feelings from getting out.

“Chrissy was a mistake!” He retorted with a hiss. He hated that you saw Chrissy as a problem between the two of you. Yes, he fucked up, but it really was a mistake, he’d take it all back in a heartbeat if he could.

Your gaze narrowed, that pettiness returned when you scoffed. “Which time, when you kissed her or when you brought her to brunch?”

Eddie let out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head when he looked at you with a dumbfounded look. “Jesus fucking Christ…” He took a breather. “I can’t believe you’re doing that again,” he mumbled, realizing that it wasn’t going to be easy to get you out of this mindset.

It was going to be hard, to convince you of anything, and he understood that, he had trust issues himself, but he wasn’t going to back down. This was it.

You crossed your arms against your chest, gaze avoiding him momentarily. “Doing what?” You muttered.

“You just— you get scared when things get serious, running away when it gets just even a little bit too real,” He scoffed, angling closer to you, fingers ruffling through his curls in frustration.

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah! You call me a coward and fucking look at you!” He snapped, hands gesturingly pointing to you.

“Scrambling just at the thought of us being together.” He argued, some part of him feeling a bit insecure, that maybe you didn’t want this. But, no, he saw that glint in your eyes, he knew the little angry twitch on your lips. You felt the same. And all you needed was a little push.

You breathed, mind scrambled and trying so hard to convince yourself to leave. “T—that’s not it, you—uh you just don’t get it!” You complained with a huff.

Another step closer. One more step and his lips would be on yours, Eddie knew this, you knew this. His gaze momentarily drooped down to your lips, then back to your dilated pupils.

“Then make me understand, let me help you, don’t fucking run, not this time.” It was a little jab, but something needed to get you to spill, he was playing all the right cards and you were getting overwhelmed.

“J—just stop!”

“Why? Fucking why? Tell me one good fucking reason as to why we shouldn’t try it, we never even gave it a chance!” He ranted, veins in his forehead popping with how much he was trying to keep it all together. And you weren’t even trying.

“We wouldn’t work, okay?”

He shook his head. “Not good enough,” He argued.

“W—we’re on two different paths now, Eddie.” You didn’t have any good excuses, he was right.

“Not good enough.” Once again, that same arguing tone.

You huffed. “Too much time passed and—”

“Not fucking good enough!” He cursed, hands landing on your shoulder to keep you in place, and your cheeks flushed immediately, while still trying to deny it. You were pathetic.

“Stop being a fucking coward!” He seethed, eyes fiery and red.

Why were you insisting on being so fucking stubborn? You were driving him crazy, yet it wasn’t going to stop him.

Coward is what had you scrambling. Because you knew he was right. “Fuck you,” You spat, body jerking quickly to leave, feet picking up quickly as Eddie groaned loudly.

So. Fucking. Stubborn.

He was quick on his feet, letting curses slip past his lips before he yanked you to him, earning a small gasp from your lips before you finally faced him.

Gaze mellow, but just as fiery, your furrowed brows and dilated pupils only encouraging him more and more. Flutters in your stomach had never left, your skin was burning, everywhere, but specifically on the hold he had on you.

You didn’t manage to utter anything else, you couldn’t because he had you this time. There was no running away from it, your heart was hammering so hard inside of your chest that you were sure he could hear it.

His hold on your arm was firm but somehow gentle, letting you know that he wasn’t going to let you go.

You opened your mouth, wanting to speak, but he interrupted, his hands now firmly cupping your cheeks, squishing you with force, and you couldn’t help the contended sigh that left your parted lips. “I’m not letting you run away, not this time,” He mumbled, words sounding like silk falling from his lips, all you could do was gaze into him. He stood inches away from you, breath fanning against your face.

He licked his lips desperately, gaze drooping to your candy-glossed, needy lips. Face so close that you could feel the desperation radiating off of him. And you shared it. You managed to take a quick breath before his hand fisted your hair and his mouth crashed down to yours.

He pressed you harder against his chest, breathless, your lips molded together, a perfect fit. And he could taste the Cosmopolitan on your tongue, a tinge of alcohol mixed with your sweetness, making his head spin, a taste he realized he’d never have enough of.

Those little thumps your heart did were now out of control, possibly pounding a million beats a second. His small stubble scratched against your chin, rough, it should’ve made you uncomfortable yet all it did was make you kiss him harder, shutting up your brain as your mouth replied to him, kissing him back with just as much force, you melted into him, melted into his hold, and you let him engulf you, fully, completely.

Plushy lips slightly parted apart, his tongue slipped past between your teeth, your hand finding its way to his hair, feeling the curly strands between your fingers, it’s softer than you expected and your lips parted to let out a slight whine as you tugged at them.

All those years of wishing, all those years of wanting, yearning, and needing exploded into this. Kissing like your lives depended on it, chests pressed against each other, Eddie’s hand slipping to your waist, desperately tugging you closer to him as if that was even possible.

Your heart exploded into your chest, his tongue not wavering the chance to explore yours, sucking on it, greedily, desperately.

The background noises disappeared, the cackles of the girls, the booming music coming from inside of the bar, and the honks from the busy street. They ceased to exist and it was just you and him. Feeling each other, completely, fully.

You knew at some point one of you had to pull away, but none of you dared to, it was just pure desire, a hunger that couldn’t be sated.

All the years spent yearning and pining, acting like two fucking idiots.

He wanted to breathe you, drink you in, and he wasn’t intent on letting you go. Ever.

You from five minutes ago who wanted to refuse him, refuse this was an absolute fucking idiot. Gone. You tasted like the sweetest honey and he tasted like everything you wanted and more. It’s even needier than the first kiss, more sure, it’s like a promise.

This is it. Both of you can feel it. This finally changes everything.

final authors note — uhhhh so yeah... if yall wanna talk about that my asks r open LMAO.

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson series #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson angst #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #getaway car series #getaway car

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fictionalslvr · 9 months

Text

Part one. Part three.

SYNOPSIS:"Ghost" is your new neighbor in your apartment complex, everyone is afraid of him, but not you. You're the only one to be kind with him.

PAIRING: (Based of comic but that's not 100% canon) Simon Riley neighbor x F¡Reader

WORD COUNT:3.212k

WARNINGS: Fluffy, angst, mentions of blood, war, s.a (not directly) etc.

NOTES:There we go, back to the crying season. I literally cried while writing this one, so i really hope you guys like as much as i did. Remembering, this is the part two of this mini serie. And i HIGHLY recommend to listen to 'happier than ever' by Billie Eilish while reading this.

PREVIOUS PART

It’s been almost a month. Almost a month since Simon appeared at your door, he drinked some coffee with you, had a long talk that showed little things about him. And after he left your door to work, it’s been days since you don’t hear footsteps on the apartment above yours. You can’t help but worry, he said his work was hard, tiring and had big choices. You pace around your house, feeling a weird knot on your stomach, a strange sensation of anxiety consuming you, not seeing his eyes, hot hearing his chuckles, not smelling his unique scent…all of this makes you feel strange, he’s just a neighbor…right? So why are you feeling this way? He’s used to doing this, staying out, working and coming back, he’s fine that’s right. Then why couldn't your heart understand this?

The only thing keeping you calm is your little cat, her fluffy fur on your legs as she brushes herself against you, looking for some caress. You sit down on the couch and sigh, trying to think better and your cat jumps on your lap, purring while your fingers brush her fur gently. It’s almost like she can sense you’re not well at the moment, and tries her best to distract you.

—”You’re a smart kitten, no?” A sad smile flows out, and you can only breathe deep for a moment. You don't know why you’re feeling like this, he’s only your neighbor who’s a bit mysterious, you shouldn’t be worried about him. And yet, your last talk with him made you think all those days about him. He seems like someone who suffered a lot, even if he didn’t tell you what exactly. You can see it, his baggy eyes carrying a sad sparkle on it, like he saw so many things you can’t even imagine. Somehow, you appreciate his bravery, without even telling, you supposed that he suffered, only from his eyes.

He’s always using a balaclava, so there must be a reason for this. Maybe he’s insecure about his face, maybe he just wants to protect his identity for someone, or he just doesn't want people to read his emotions. If the last one is the answer, he’s terribly wrong, because only from his eyes, you could sense how this man carries a lot of weight on his shoulders.

Since when he moved in, you’re caught about his whole figure, everything about him was a mystery, like he can’t really trust anyone. You look around for a while, looking at the pictures on your home, you remember how Simon was staring at them non stop the last time you saw him, his eyes were painful to see, his eyes narrow to the frames as his eyebrows furrowed as your voice called his attention back. Something about family pictures made him perplexed.

It’s weird to say, but damn, you missed him. His raspy voice, his tall figure towering over yours, his short words, his eyes never leaving your face as you talk, he’s a great listener, you could say. Even without knowing much about him, you wanted to see him again, hear his voice, feel his scent, make eye contact, feel this weird human connection you two created quickly. You groan and roll your head back to the couch, staring at the ceiling while your mind don’t stop not even for a second, your mind filled with Simon and everything you noticed about him, like how calloused his hands are, how he seems to be a terrible sleeper, how he looks to hold himself back while he talks, scared he will expose more about his life, how he has a habit of shakes his legs every time, how his eyes don’t stop still, they’re always looking around, as if he’s making sure he’s safe. Every little detail that you could think of, you paid attention to him, like you never did before, you never was this detailed about someone, neither that interested about someone. He has something special, something that curls you up in his hands.

As for Simon? Being on a long mission wasn't that easy. Staying hours awake, the reason why he’s a terrible sleeper, sleeping in uncomfortable tents, thinking only about his objectives all day. It was awful, but, the only thing that reminded him he’s still human, is his friends, his teammates, the only ones he can say some dad jokes sometimes, the only ones who remind him he’s only doing his job, and nothing else, and somehow, that made him feel better. Knowing he’s not alone in this, that he’s not the only one making his hands dirty with blood, the only ones who made him feel less guilty for the blood dripping on his mask. Besides that, sometimes he caught himself thinking of his neighbor, the only one who had the courage to talk to him, that looked him in the eyes, that listened to his short talk, his voice and saw his miserable life. And yet, you don’t even know the whole story, if he did tell you…would you still smile at him? Would you still look him in the eyes? Would you still not be afraid of him? Would you still think he deserves to be loved? Because, he, himself, doesn't think he does. After all he did, all he passed through and lost, he didn't have a chance to be happy and live an ordinary life, he always had to remind how useless he was at protecting his family once, how he was a cowardly kid, how he suffered in dirty hands, how he felt used. Nothing more than a war machine, a big, strong and scary man that everyone frightens, that’s what he is, in his mind. As for you, such a gentle, kind and delicate woman…why would you listen to someone like him? He thinks he doesn’t deserve your kindness.

For now, there he is, stepping back to his apartment, his heavy boots making some noise as he's not even looking at the way he’s doing. It’s always like this when he’s back from a long mission, he felt like he was on automatic. His mask, a bit dirty like his gear, and he had some wounds too. He made his way on the halls, going to the elevator, it’s late, like 4AM.

And a soft voice calls for him before the elevator comes, the creaky wooden door behind him making noise.

—”Simon…?” —It’s your voice, he’s already used to that sweet melody. He doesn’t turn to face you, not wanting to scare you with his actual state.

—”Hello.” —Without noticing, you left a sigh of relief.

—”You’re back. I was worried.” —Your words make him disbelief, he turns to face you, and you can see a mask on his usual balaclava, his eyes widened as his pupils shake.

—”You shouldn’t.”

—”If I could control that. But I couldn't, and I'm happy you’re back." —His eyes fall to your figure, rubbing your eyes as you’re still sleepy, your pajamas from that day, and your voice sounds like honey.

—”What happened to you, Simon?”

—”I was working.”

—’Not this, these wounds…” — Realization crawls up to his mind, you shouldn’t be able to see him like this.

—”Shit.” — He mumbles under his breath and looks away. Your figure walks closer to him, it’s dark to see properly.

—”Please, come in. Let me take care of this for you.”

—”No need, I'm fine, thanks.” —How could he say no to your cute little eyes, looking up and down on his body, looking for every wound. Your fingers go to his arms, gently touching and pulling him inside your apartment. Without a word, he just follows, he could easily get rid of your hands on him, and he didn’t.

You close the door and make him sit on your couch, picking up a med kit in your kitchen, sitting beside him.

—”You’re not going to ask why I'm like this?”

—”Only if you want to say why.” — Your eyes meet him, looking for his approval before you lift up the sleeves of his gear, finding a very bad wound on it, how he wasn’t feeling the pain? He just nods, and you lift his sleeves gently. He loved how caring you are, always searching his approval for everything, even simple things like this. He loves how gentle you were towards a man like him.

—”Then…can we not?”

—”Of course, Simon.”

He always enjoyed how his name would sound in your tongue, in your voice. It made his heart skip a beat everytime. With caution, you clean up his wound, and he doesn't hisses, doesn't frown or groan, he just watches in silence, looking into your eyes all the time. Nothing matters now, not the pain, not the blood, no. Only you, and your kindness.

—”What were you doing awake?”

—”I wasn’t. I heard your footsteps.”

—”How did you know it was mine?”

—”I guessed. You’re the only one who would walk around at this time.” —His dark brown eyes were staring at your face, you looked so concentrated now, even while sleepy like this, you managed to do this. To take care of him.

—”Why are you doing this?”

—”Because I care about you, Simon.”

Those words, it’s been years since he heard it, seem unreal. Why would you care about him? What did he do to deserve such kindness? Is God finally hearing his prays he did when he was young? No, you’re only his neighbor, this is normal…right?

—”Why?”

—"Do i need a reason?" —He only looks away, his head nodding at your words. You were right, you don’t need reasons to do what you’re doing. Though, he really wanted you to have one. He needed you to have a reason to help a man like him.

A comfortable silence creeps in between both, it’s a silence that yells inside, so many questions on both sides, but no one wants to ask it. Simon looks on your window, the curtain flowing and showing the moon bright in the sky, giving him a feeling he never felt before…love, in its truest form, just pure love. Being taken care of like this, he doesn’t even know why he accepted this, normally he would ignore it and go to bed, sleeping only two hours or less. But you, have your gentle fingers wrapping his wound now, gently patching it with a gauze, you had some talent for this, he wondered…have you ever taken care of someone else? Because you seem to be used to this.

—”Well done.” —You mumbles under your breath, your eyelids blink slowly, you’re so sleepy…it’s adorable.

—”Thanks.” —Oh really? Is everything he can mumble after this help? He can’t express anything more than this. Honestly, he didn’t need to, his eyes locked with yours, your body painted with the moonlight and the dark blue sky, and you can see how he feels grateful for you. You smile gently.

—”No need to, I was just worried when I saw you like this.”

Simon sighs, taking off the skull mask on his covered face, leaving only his balaclava as you’re used to.

—”It’s normal for me to get back like this.”

—”With wounds?”

—”Not only on my body.”

—”You know you can’t live like this forever, right?”

—”I always did.”

—”And this will hurt you eventually, Simon. You can’t hide emotions and think everything is okay. They will overflow.”

—”You don’t know me well for this.” —Simon gets up from your couch, his voice getting rougher, and looks at your door. You felt a twist in your guts, he’s worried you might figure him out, because you’re already doing.

—”If you’re being kind only to know my past, forget it. I’m not a storyteller.”

—”Who told you I wanted this? I’m pretty sure it was yourself.” —Now it’s your time to get up and meet his eyes, his eyes can’t lie to you.

—”You’re tricking yourself with this, Simon.”

He hated this, how pretty you look while your skin sparkled with the moonlight, how your eyes made him nowhere to run, how you would read him like a book, even if you two don’t know for a long time.

—”You don’t know me enough to say that.”

—”Being cold won’t keep me away, if that's what you’re trying to do.”

The only thing Simon does is curse under the black silk on his face. He didn’t like to look so predictable, so vulnerable like this. But at the same time, he just wants to be taken care of by you, and only you, no one else. He stays silent for what seems like an eternity, there's nothing else to say. What would he do now? Being cold wasn't going to keep you away, and he knows he will only hurt you, and lose someone like you would be dumb. All of his thoughts were making him dizzy, it was too much, he didn’t feel like this in years, and now it just makes him confused, he doesn't know how to deal with this anymore.

—”Look, Simon, it’s okay. You don’t have to agree with what I say. I just want you to know that even if I don't know you too well, you’re already someone I care about.” —You whispered to him, this tone was enough to bring him back to reality. His heart skips a beat at your words, he didn’t deserve you. At least he doesn’t think so.

—”Do you even realize what you’re saying? I’m a stranger at your house. Aren’t you scared?”

—”Not of you.” —A cute smile spreads on your face, and poor Simon, he feels his legs weaker, his heart melt at the same second.

—”You’re crazy. I can’t understand you.”

He’s being genuine on this, he can’t understand how optimistic you are, how cute, pretty, kind you are. And damn, that hairs of yours, the smell makes him insane, he always tries his best to stay away.

—”And I can't understand you as well, we’re even now.” —Simon can’t help but chuckle in disbelief with your words. Oh God, why couldn’t he have a normal life…by your side if that’s possible?

—”Look, [name], I appreciate the help. I should go now, I already messed up your sleep too much.”

—”Wait…can’t you stay just until i sleep? I can’t go back to sleep alone now.”

—”Uhm…sure.” —He looks away, and you giggle. Quickly, you make your way to the couch again and make yourself comfortable there, laying your body and closing your eyes. He watched every movement, not really wanting to look like a perv or something, he wouldn’t ever want to make you embarrassed.

—”Goodnight, Simon.”

—”Night.” —Simon clears his throat, looking while you find a good position to sleep, you look so peaceful. Maybe having him around makes you feel this way. His eyes are glued to your face, so delicate and calm while you breath slowly, it was an adorable sight, he thought to himself. His thick accent was the last thing you heard before falling asleep, quicker than he thought you would. Simon looks around and sees a blanket on another couch, he takes it and gently puts it above your body, making you nuzzle into it as the cold breeze was a problem your sleeping figure didn’t know it needed help. “How stupid” he thinks to himself, he’s a war criminal, why the hell does he have a soft stop for a person he doesn’t even know the age? His strong arms could rip you apart, since you’re so fragile like this. Correcting himself, he could, but he couldn’t even think of doing it, you’re so delicate, he just wants to protect you, not the contrary. He sighs, and notices he’s been looking at your sleeping figure for a long while now. He walks to your door and holds the handle, but something curls on his legs before he can walk outside, it’s your kitten. That lazy female cat who decided to greet the man on his second visit here, her white and orange fur on his gear.

—”Bloody hell.” — Simon caught himself watching his tone for you, not wanting to wake you up. The little kitten meows while twirling around Simon’s legs, he sighs and rolls his eyes up, one hand holds his mask, the other rubs the cat’s chin with his gloves on, so rough, and yet, bent down to caress your cat.

—”Now…let me leave, lil’one.” — His strong accent keeps there, while he…whispers with your cat. He gets up and opens your wood creaky door with caution, giving a head nod to your cat and closing the door when he steps away.

It’s so hard to leave, to leave that warm, cozy, happy place. To meet his dark and cold home, he can only sigh with the thought. Why is it so hard to leave? Why is his heart throbbing? That’s stupid, he’s not a teenager anymore, he’s a grown ass man that can deal with his feelings, he thinks so. He’s only trying to fool himself into that idea, because he knows when he steps his foot inside his apartment, he will crave for the sound of your voice, your warmth and your damn smile, and mostly, your words. So well chosen like you know exactly what to say to make him fall. You’re clever enough for his rudeness. He knows you will be just below, living your life peacefully and he will get back to his miserable life, alone, with his bad thoughts. If only he was open to his own feelings, he would see how fucked up he is now. Already missing you and wanting to stay by your side. His delusional mind wanders to a life together, you would say him goodbye when he’s out for missions, calls him, send letters, and he would keep a photo of you on his pocket, only so when he’s not motivated, he looked at it and remembers why he’s there, to make you safe. He would come back to your arms and stay beside each other, you would see his face behind that balaclava and smile, knowing the real Simon, while he leaves Ghost on the job.

That’s when he comes back to earth, being on his balcony, his balaclava lifted up a little bit as he smokes, taking a puff of his cigarette and sending it back into the sky with a blow. The breeze makes him shiver even with his gear still on, and the thoughts consume himself.

—"I'm fucked up."— Simon realizes when his thoughts wanders too much. He tosses the cigarette on the floor, stepping on it as his raspy voice talks to himself. Going to bed at 6AM, and not even being able to sleep, because his heart decided to throb about someone he doesn’t even know well, his brain decides to play with his sanity once more. He can’t take this feeling growing inside of him, it’s weird. Simon stares at the ceiling, laying at bed, his hands caressing his chest as he feels pain inside, right on his heart. Not even his patched wound would hurt like this.

What is this feeling...is he...falling in love? You leave him in tatters. And even while he's thinking you're perfect, you still have your problems as well, he's not the only one broken, and he will discover this soon.

#fanfic #fictionalslvr #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod mwii #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #ghost x female reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #angst #light angst

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jeonqkooks · 1 year

Text

a little taste | jjk (m.)

the one with just the tip.

[ ‘ a little taste ’ series masterpost ]

pairing: jungkook x f!reader

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

genre/warnings: established relationship, smut (pwp), unprotected s✩x (this is fictional, don't do it irl folks), cre✩mpie, jungoo is an ✩ss grabber, he's also a lil shit, 2 secs of dirty talk?, swearing, they're both frustrated lol, zero editing pls forgive me

word count: 1.3k

note: happy sunday errbody! we got a surprise ALT drop 🥳 i have no excuse, i woke up this morning and wrote this in one sitting before i even got out of bed lmao. have fun all u horndawgs <3

— as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

You know how you got here, and the reason is very stupid.

It always starts with a meaningless discussion, really.

You two were having a quiet night in, cuddling on the couch and watching a rerun of your favorite TV show when a raunchy joke popped up, which somehow (because bless Jungkook’s brain and his useless ability to jump from point A all the way to point Z in a blink of an eye) led to the infamous “Just the Tip” debate.

You were taking the Negative, for obvious reasons, and he was on the Affirmative side. Jungkook wasn’t arguing that all men could handle themselves when their literal dick is inside of a woman; more so that he, this one specific individual, easily could.

And you suppose that’s why you’re here, trying to settle the argument, the both of you naked from the waist down. His hard cock pokes at your entrance as his eyes twinkle with a mischievous glint. Jungkook is always so competitive, but he sometimes forgets that you are too, and you’ll try your goddamn hardest to make sure he loses this one.

Okay, maybe it’s not just a silly little debate. It might have escalated into a silly little bet, one that involves the loser having to fold the laundry for a whole month.

Which so happens to be your least favorite chore.

Which only gives you more incentive to win.

Men are simple creatures, how hard can this be?

You bite your lip as he pushes in, just the tip, then stills. The stretch is a little dry at first, and a tad uncomfortable. You barely prepped before both of your shorts flew off somewhere in favor of you wanting to prove a point. Jungkook’s fingers slip through your folds to find your clit, fondling the nub until he could feel you getting wetter by the second, coating the tip of his cock in your slick.

“Ready to lose?” you ask coyly, to which he only responds with a playful scoff before he pulls his hips back, nearly slipping out of you in the process. He bucks forward again, and you can already tell that he’s trying to hold back, to be mindful of how shallow his thrusts have to be lest he wants to give you a few more inches than necessary.

“Fuck,” a tiny, whiny, moan escapes your lips, barely audible to your own ears but Jungkook catches it. He smirks at you triumphantly, never stopping his movements down there. God, you’re really not used to this. Whenever you two are on each other, it’s always hard and unrestrained, purely focused on making the other feel as good as possible.

How the hell is he so good at this?

Maybe you should’ve known. What can’t Jungkook do?

You keep expecting more every time he pulls back, anticipating that his cock will fill you to the brim like it always does. But then he gives you just the fucking tip - which you suppose is fair; that’s the whole point of this idiotic bet after all - and you swear you could burst from frustration.

Jungkook senses your inner turmoil, how you’re trying to keep yourself from begging him to fuck you silly. You can’t say you’re surprised when he tugs his t-shirt over his head - in that insanely hot way that guys do! - and throws it recklessly across the room, flexing his abs and biceps at you. It’s like his tattoos have a mind of their own, the intricate ink winking at you with his every move like it’s mocking you, tempting you.

What’s on the line again?

Oh, right, laundry. Fuck!

You’re positively dripping with arousal, a want - no, a need - that he just won’t satiate. “That’s not fair,” you complain, even though your hands are already reaching for him, pulling him closer so you could touch him all over.

“Who said anything about fair?” he says before he kisses you, his tongue slipping past the seal of your lips to taste you. He moans against your mouth as his fingers sneak down to squeeze your bare ass.

So he wants to play dirty? Well, you can do dirty too.

You time his thrusts so that when he ruts forward, you clench around his cock.

That’s when you feel it. Him, deeper and throbbing inside of you.

For the first time since this started, you have the upper hand.

You break the kiss only to narrow your eyes at him. “That felt like more than just the tip,” you purr.

Jungkook groans, but it sounds more like a growl than anything. Okay, he’s really competitive. His hands dig into your ass so roughly that you’re pretty sure it will bruise in the morning. His hips stop moving entirely, trapping his cock within your walls where it’s achingly, deliciously hard.

You can practically feel his self-control slipping away, and all over a single clench?!

It might’ve taken you a bit longer than expected but alas, men are simple creatures.

You squeeze around him again, just for kicks. “What’s the matter, baby?” you tease, enjoying the way his eyebrows knit together tightly, almost like he’s angry. “Ready to admit defea– Oh!”

Then, that motherfucker shuts you right up. Jungkook shoves his whole length inside of you until he bottoms out, aided by the wetness that gushes out of you. He gives you a single grunt as the base of his cock rubs against your clit, the tension in your belly amping up tenfold when you feel him, so fucking deep in you because that’s where he belongs. This is what you wanted.

“What’s the matter, baby?” he mocks you with a sly smirk, though he doesn’t give you any time to answer before he starts fucking you with fervor, pounding you into the couch - or the next dimension - like he’s got a personal vendetta.

“I– fuck–!” If you could formulate a coherent response, you would shoot him back a retort - You lost! - but whoops, all rational thought flew out the window the second he rewarded you with his cock. It’s absolutely insane how easily he’s able to render you speechless just like that.

You struggle to even moan his name, for crying out loud. Jungkook holds your legs open so he could fuck you better, the tip of his cock kissing your g-spot with every thrust, sending you embarrassingly quickly to the edge you’ve been looking for. You hold onto him for dear life, nails digging into his shoulders and making him grunt from the added pain. It’s right there, you’re so close…

“C’mon,” he purrs, ducking down to suck a mark into the skin of your neck, “come for me. I know you want to.”

Just a few more thrusts and you’re falling right into that sea of bliss that awaits you at the bottom of the cliff. You come hard around his cock as a shout rips itself free from your throat - not even of his name, or anything in particular - and Jungkook is falling right behind you. He empties himself inside of you with a broken moan, warm ropes of his cum painting your velvety walls white.

You hold onto each other like that for a while longer, neither of you caring about how his softening cock is letting your combined release trickle out of you and onto the material of the couch. You play with his hair as he kisses your neck softly, and when he finally props himself up on his forearms to look down at you, there’s something so sweet in his gaze that makes you flush all over.

It almost makes you forget about what you’ve been playing for. Rationality starts crawling back in again after the dicking down you just had.

Almost being the keyword. Too bad for your boyfriend though.

“I won,” you say happily, giving him your brightest grin.

“Did you really win though?” he asks, eyes narrowing playfully at you. Always the negotiator, this one. “Or did you want me to fuck you so badly that I let you win?”

“I won. You said just the tip and then you gave me your whole dick. Now prepare to fold the laundry for a whole month.”

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keepthedelta · 3 months

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full offence but the journalist who wrote that article about max in the sunday times should never write about f1 again. that interview was so fucking stupid i think i actually became dumber from reading it.

"normally taciturn niki lauda" -- niki lauda has never held back a single thought in his life

"more than 100 million viewers watched the new kid on the block win his first drivers' championship" -- he'd literally been in f1 for 6 years at that point, that's more than 100 races, and he was one of the more experienced drivers on the grid even then

"there are plenty who don't like what verstappen gets up to on track. kimi raikkonen ... is in no doubt '[verstappen's] only interest was in pushing me off the circuit completely' he fumed" -- kimi said this in the immediate aftermath of spa 2016, it is not reflective of his current opinion, or that of his opinion at any point in the last 8 years

"when verstappen and [hamilton] slammed into each other at monza in 2021, rivalry spilt over into outright hostility" -- conveniently forgetting when lewis tried to murder max at silverstone several weeks earlier

"appearing to forget his intercom was broadcasting to the entire world, hamilton yelled" -- no one has used the radio messages to publicly push a narrative better than lewis hamilton

"oscar piastri ... verstappen's rival in the current series" -- i like oscar but to call him a rival is literally insane

"sceptics claim it's more about the car than the driver ... mexican sergio perez did finish second" -- second by a humiliating amount of points that actually proved that it's not just the car

this whole article is ridiculous. i think the only drivers this guy knew before meeting max were lewis hamilton and james hunt. there were almost more references to them than there were to max and he was the subject of the interview

#max verstappen #a genuinely idiotic article

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nailisaa · 4 months

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love transforms

(announcement at the end)

fear was the cause of most of my problems. now that i've discovered this as the root, its a lot easier to deal with now. i can imagine some of you do as well which is why i wanted to share this. part 3 of edwards's series is truly incredible, we don't speak of it enough despite some of us truly needing it right now. you and your feelings are valid, but because no one deserves to live in fear ever, we should know how to manage it.

THROUGH LOVE.

i know. this may not make sense at first. most people would just say "flip the thoughts" or do something to regain control. but truthfully there is no reason flip fearful thoughts first. you are much greater than them... and more importantly: that isn't the root.

if the root is fear, remove the feeling of fear entirely by first taking responsibility for what you're conscious of being. i understand that most struggle to, but if you can acknowledge the harm this cycle has done, you can also break it by ALLOWING yourself to experience lovelier thoughts instead. meaning, that if you've created fearful thoughts that means it HAS NO POWER ON ITS OWN. NONE. this should be the best news, to realize you are more than your thoughts.

CHOOSE LOVE OVER FEAR.

"Second, when you take responsibility for that fearful thought as your creation, ask yourself this simple question, 'What is it that I would LOVE to think?' From here as the Creator, you can start to go towards LOVE. LOVE is the most powerful 'thing' if you will, within you. Why? Because it never fails to TRANSFORM 'SELF.' Fear can stagnant, but LOVE TRANSFORMS. Why is this important? Remember the reason we are doing this. We are NOT trying to manipulate reality or force some change upon this physical world That will happen NATURALLY. Why? Because your world is REFLECTING SELF. Since it is reflecting 'SELF,' then how can we transform 'SELF' in the most efficient and best way possible? Through LOVE. By actually going within our minds and doing what we LOVE, having what we LOVE. This changes us at our very core. From this new feeling of freedom and love, you will find it incredibly easy to think what you want. You will even find it harder to feel fear. This ease and love starts to become your natural State. People will start treating you in a better way. You won't even have to imagine every little thing going your way, it just will. Things you wanted months ago, start appearing in your world. Things that bothered you deeply, literally has no effect on you anymore. Why? Because you are no longer DESIRING, no longer FEARING. You are living in FULFILLMENT. Fulfillment in Love. You are actually living what you LOVE within, and this love expresses itself without. To reiterate, when you are doing these meditations, and you get the 'resistance' which is just fear, remember the words of Neville: 'To repent to simply man's ability to entertain the nature of the opposite." Can you entertain the opposite of the nature of fear? Can you entertain Love? Is that not what you want?" - Edward Art

end.

IMPORTANT: this is my last post before i go on break. i am not sure when i will be back, but it definitely won't be for too long?

before i go, i wanted to share some advice. everyone interprets things differently, which is why reading directly from source is probably one of the best things you can do in your journey. (it is very easy to find misinfo on any app.) when i say this i don't mean skim through the whole thing, no. but read it slowly. you don't have to finish these books all in one day (i am saying this because i tried that once, and that was not it y'all😭💀). do it at a pace where you will be able to grasp what is being said. if you don't understand something, read the sentence or previous paragraphs again and you'll usually find the answer on your own. you may find new pieces to the puzzle if you just took the time, or even sat with yourself in silence (you may even come to new realizations, not from teachers but from you). there is no rush, seriously.

now anyway, about my break, my goal is to come back having read other authors and books, to share with you guys, and hopefully return with a new and stronger perspective on consciousness/awareness. recently i have been feeling as if something within me is missing, despite me knowing what i do. about Self. maybe it is time to explore what that is. i'll still be active on tumblr, but i'm not posting and my inbox will be closed. and i won't be answering dms about loa advice. i wish you all the best, truly. and i love u all, bye!

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charles-leclerizz · 2 months

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TRAILER : THE BEGINING

🏁 Content warnings : Swearing.

🏁 Spoiler alert : Please read the masterlist, Character sketch and Team sketch to understand.

🏁 Genre : Drama, Action, Sports

🏁 Reading time : 15 minutes, 6 seconds

🏁 Word count : 3.0.k (3021 words)

🏁 Chapter summary : It all begins now.

🏁 Author's note : So, this is it, welcome to the beginning of this wild ride. Just wanted to explain a few things [so skip this right now if you're not really interested, no hard feelings !] Now, this format is probably confusing, basically the first part of this is the trailer, how it would look on Netflix, the actual video/film. And the writing after the banner, Behind the Scenes, is literally behind the scenes, what isn't shown on camera. Second, this whole series is meant to be very dramatic, it's entertainment made by "Netflix" [not really, please don't sue me] for God sake. With all that said, Enjoy!

Masterlist · 🪷 Aisha · 🪷 Porsche F1 Team · 🪷

[Please play this song whilst reading the trailer & feel free to stop once we get behind the scenes with the drivers !]

The screen fades from black to show a Porsche F1 car skidding down the track, the sound of screeching rubber against the tarmac harmonises with the energetic music that pumps behind the video.

Circular shots of a driver climbing out of the car from different angles flash across, and just before they tug off their helmet the scene changes to the paddock, pit crew, mechanics and drivers rush past in a blur, their differently coloured uniforms merge together like lights in a city scape. Suddenly, everything stops and the music fades away momentarily.

“In the fast-paced world of formula 1,”

Scenes of driving legends hoisting up their trophies with happy grins and champagne soaked racing gear flash past. Ayrton Senna, Michael Schumacher, Kimi Räikkönen.

“Where every second counts and emotions run high.”

The grating sounds of cars speeding past bursts into the frame, Max Verstappen shaking his fists ambitiously as he wins, yet another grand prix, Charles Leclerc as he wins in Spa and Monza, Carlos sainz and Lando Norris partnering up in the Singapore 2023- “Yeah, it’s on purpose.” The Spaniard grits out just as the narrator begins to speak again.

“Our team is about to redefine the game,”

The narrator is revealed, a woman, tall and proud as she sits in front of a grey backdrop. Her blonde hair is cut to a sharp bob and her glasses, astute and black sit high on her nose as she laughs jauntily and arches a well-managed, bleached brow at one of the three camera’s recording her, “Is that good?” she huffs out, thick Manchester accent shining through her cheerful words.

Black takes over once again, and the Indian flag, flapping in the wind from a tall pole that reaches high into the sky is shown, the bright, proud colours shining against the pale, blue sky. The camera pans down to the bottom of the ground, where the same driver,who was emerging from the car in the begging is looking up, at their flag.

But instead of their helmet securely fastened around their face, it’s held between the crook of their elbow and waist. The white base is glossy as multiple sponsor logos are littered around the entire frame, along with the black, bold letters “PATEL” being showed off at the back, currently visible to the camera along with the behind of the driver’s racing suit.

The shot pans up, revealing long flowing hair, black thick strands a contrast to her off white racing suit. The same flag peeks out from between the chunks of her fluttering locks, large and proud on the expanse of her back. The driver begins to turn and just as her red painted lips come into view the scene changes and a different narrator begins to speak again.

“From the makers of 'Drive to Survive' comes a new Netflix Original Series that takes you behind the scenes of the most exhilarating sport on the planet.”

Scenes of the woman running across the paddock and into her garage, her teammate not far behind overlay the announcement.

Another moment is revealed, this time of her ducking into her car, glove covered hands braced on the halo as her face turns upwards towards a racing engineer who speaks to her. She nods before turning to look directly into the camera and lowering herself into the cockpit.

The woman begins to speak again, "Aisha is our trailblazer in Formula 1.”

The iconic lights of Formula one begins to count down as the mechanical ticking echo throughout the grand-stands and the camera goes to shoot the anticipatory lull in the air as spectators hold their breath whilst the engines start up and the last light dims.

“She’s smashing stereotypes and racing towards victory.” The team principal shakes her head, a soft, proud smile playing on her light pink lips.

The team car revs menacingly as the gaggle of drivers manoeuvre their way through turn one of Bahrain.

The Porsche chassis glows between the unmanageable scuffle of the other 18 cars on the track, as both team racers attempt to come out on top in the dangerous pile of engines, the expectant victor of the throng doesn’t appear, the deep blue red bull is yet to emerge. The crowd gasps and cheers as the true victor begins to approach the next turn, speeding down the straight.

The camera catches the proud logo on the side of the car, “Porsche” and on the back, as the DRS begins to activate, the opened flap reveals, “Patel”.

“I just hope people are ready to see her in action. Because she isn’t stopping anytime soon" She stares into the camera as her name appears on screen, a small box enveloping the words, “Katherine Anderson, Porsche team principal.”

Finally, the rumoured driver comes into the scene, walking up to the stool as the camera drags up her slack clad legs, the cream material swishes by her ankles along with the golden payaal that jingles with each step of her stiletto heels against the floor. Her torso is revealed slowly, a tight top hugs her bust whilst the printed Porsche logo morphs against the curves of her chest. The varied tennis barcelets and charmed jewellery around her wrist titillate together as she takes a seat on the chair, and her face is revealed.

She squints her eyes and brings a manicured hand up to push away the straightened hair from her lips, her mouth purses as the unintelligible voice of the producer talks to her, whilst her eyelashes flutter and she hums in agreement.

“So, I just talk?” She asks, pointing a finger at the camera that faces her before blotting the lipstick on her lips. She nods once as the cameraman confirms.

“My name,” She tilts her head as she smiles, perfect, white teeth shining underneath the light, “Is Aisha Patel, and I drive for Porsche F1 Team.”

The camera cuts again, showcasing Aisha on the podium, pushing a large trophy up into the air as her teammate, Pierre cheers and sprays champagne on her stomach from his place on the “2nd” platform. She shakes her head and laughs as her entire head becomes soaked with the bubbly, sweet drink. Multiple identical shots are placed one after the other, of her standing proud and sweaty on the 1st place podium.

“I’ve worked my ass off,” Aisha’s voice over-runs the music, “And I’ll be damned if anything stands in my way.”

She squares her shoulders as she unzips her racing suits and bunches it up at her waist as she stomps over to Max Verstappen, the Dutch man looking equally malicious as his blue eyes roll with annoyance and already red face puffs out intimidatingly.

She pokes a finger into his fire-proof covered chest as she begins to shout, ignoring the worried stares of the crew around her in the Red-Bull garage. Max spits out the long, twirling straw from between his lips and begins to argue back.

Her mouth moves angrily as she goes to snatch the can of branded drink from his tense hands, throwing the sugary drink in his face, thoroughly dousing the shouting man and reducing him to a spluttering mess as she stomps away, flipping off one of the camera’s that eagerly follows her.

The narrator returns, his deep timbre rumbling through the video, “But the road to victory is never easy, as Aisha navigates through rivalries, scandals, and the pressure to perform.”

The scene switches to Aisha rushing out of a hotel in England, the night before Silverstone and the odd, overwhelming flashes of hounding reporters seem to be tuned out of her gaze as Lando runs behind her, grabbing helplessly at her hand whilst tears stream down her flushed face.

Her hair is mused and makeup runs haphazardly across her tan skin, she wretches her wrist out of the man’s grip, shaking her head as her lip wobbles. She covers her eyes before dodging and weaving through the paparazzi, barely able to mumble polite, “excuse me’s” from between erratic sobs, as she unlocks her expensive car and slips into the driver’s seat.

The second shot is of her and Carlos, hand in hand as her shoulders begin to shiver in his hold whilst she adjusts the heavy cardigan that hangs limp from her shoulders. The Spaniard’s face is tough and rocky as his hands comes to embrace her upper arm, cradling her against his side whilst the rest of the drivers begin to flee the racetrack, already tired from the latest qualifying session.

Yet, the papparizzi continue to hound the pair mercilessly, Aisha hides her face as the man beside her stops his firm footsteps and turns to a reporter from a less respectable news channel, the sleezy jounarlist gulps but stands his ground as he pushes his microphone forward. Carlos glances down at the tech with disgust, and just before he opens his mouth, the scene ends, and we’re taken back to Aisha who sits contently in the interview.

“In this world, you must fight for every inch. And I'm ready to fight, no matter the cost.” She smirks at another camera, her side profile showing off noticeable details over the expanse of her face like the sharp cut of her nose and the splattering of freckles across her cheekbones along with the odd beauty marks spotted above her lip and a few inches from her nose.

The final shot is off Aisha climbing out of the Porsche car, removing her helmet, allowing her hair to flow over her shoulder and down her back as she tilts her head at the camera and leans back against the pale white halo of her car.

She then crooks her finger at the viewers, gesturing for the cameraman to follow her hand as she holds up a singular finger, and points upwards towards the sky.

The shot is then of the of the expansive indiago above, and through the magic of editing, the Porsche logo takes up the screen.

“Get ready to experience the thrill, the passion, and the drama of Formula 1 like never before.” The narrator ends his sentence powerfully as the crescendo of the song reaches its peak.

“This is 'Formula for Love'.” Aisha ends the trailer, waving at the camera before the video is overtaken with black once again.

The title card appears, “Formula for love – A netflix original series”.

As the words disappear, a shot of Aisha’s car speeding off into the distance after which a mechanical, “Streaming soon, only on Netflix.” ends the trailer.

Aisha sighed, tapping her thighs as the filming concluded and many on-set employees rushed to her side, patting at her face along with offering her a can of thumbs up, the condensation runs down the metallic container and onto her fingers.

“Thank you, guys so much,” Aisha sipped at the straw protruding from the can in her hand before smiling at the people who merely stared at her, already putting away their various tools. A compact snapped shut, a damp towel thrown over a shoulder and a camera cover flipped closed.

Aisha sucked in a breath, flicking her eyes over the workers before looking over at Kate, who was signing a paper handed to her on a writing board.

She chuckled at Aisha’s worried expression and the silence that hung in the air, “It’s okay,” she assured the driver, who looked relieved as the people recovered and retreated away from the filming set, going back to their stations.

“They aren’t very used to people thanking them.” Kate shrugged, “They reacted like that to me as well,”

“Oh, thank God,” She patted her chest as she waved at the director, who smiled back and showed her a happy thumbs up, “This is all so new to me.” Aisha tugged at her hair as Kate pulled up her phone and scrolled through her calendar.

“Don’t worry too much about its Aisha, you’ll get there.” She rubbed the nervous driver’s arm and hissed when her phone vibrated, “I have to go, so much to get done before our first season,” Kate shook her head, wishing Aisha goodbye as she walked out of the trailer and out towards their still concealed garage.

Aisha hummed distractedly, before realising she had no idea what to do once Kate had walked away, “Wait!” But the team principal had already left, “Damn it,” She bit her nail once, handing off her empty can and plucking out her phone from her pocket.

“Oh, there you are.” A media manager bounded up to Aisha, surprising the woman as she jumped and whipped her head around to the approaching worker, “The driver’s briefing is about to begin,”

The man waved a hand at his face before pinching his Porsche x Adidas apparel between his fingers and forcing air between the material and his chest. He was likely middle aged, and sported dark brown hair with peppery roots and salted strands that peeked out from between the chocolatey curls.

He showed her his F1 team ID and stopped fanning himself to usher her with his hand.

“Shit- okay,” Aisha stuffed her phone away, following him out of Netflix filming trailer, out to the dark murky sky above the paddock, towards another building.

The office was tall and white, covered with floor to ceiling windows that were shielded with a layer of reflective film, “Oh God.” Aisha murmured beneath her breath as she took a few calming breaths, already forgetting to trail behind the man who was staring at her impatiently whilst holding the door open, watching as she stared at the building by straining her neck upwards.

She prepared herself, flapping her hands around slightly and jolting when the manager cleared his throat.

“Please hurry Miss. Patel. It won’t look good if you’re late.”

“I know, I know.” Aisha repeated, assuring the increasingly nervous man who walked up to her.

“It will be okay,” He laid a hesitant hand on her shoulder, taking an exemplary deep breath for her to copy. He continued when she did, “I’m Harry, sorry for not introducing myself, and I will be in charge of all media at Porsche.”

“Okay?” Aisha shook her head a few times to clear her mind, “Meaning?”

Harry chuckled and hung his head, “Meaning. That I’ll be with you in there. You won’t be alone.” He pointed a finger at himself, “See, you already have a familiar face to look for,” His slightly aged face wrinkled happily when Aisha smiled at him and relaxed visibly beneath his comforting hold.

“Thank you, Harry,” She huffed and stood straighter, “Let’s do this.”

Her heels clicked beneath her confident steps as she thanked the man who held the door open for her and Harry, who walked contently behind her.

Aisha craned her head around the bend, following the acrylic signs that read, “Driver briefing – Conference room 1.” She adjusted her shirt, feeling, for the first time in forever, conscience of her clothing and slipped a thumb beneath the waistband of her slacks to adjust them slightly.

“Let’s do this,” She pushed at the milky white door, steeling her face with a bored, neutral expression just as her name was called out, most likely for rollcall.

But, Aisha stopped in her tracks, the door barely nudged open when a flurry of deep chuckles and whispers erupted at the sound of her name.

“Seriously? Is this what fans are doing now?” The speaker rolled his “r’s” whilst shaking his head.

“How much do you think that cost them?” An oddly familiar British voice mumbled whilst crossing his arms and nudging the man next to him.

And one of them groaned and slapped his thigh once, complaining about “-needing better media stunts.”

Aisha scoffed quietly, so these were some of her heroes? Assuming that a woman could never possibly be selected to race, instead she was an obsessive fan who had shrines for each of the men stashed in her closet?

She pushed open the door, causing a few drivers to rustle and shift in their seats and turn minutely towards the sound of the door hinges, opening and closing.

Aisha walked forward and planted a hand on her hip, leaning onto one leg as each of the men looked towards her with annoyed expressions.

“I’m sorry, fans aren’t allowed here.” A French man, dressed in glaring red began to stand up, nodding discreetly at the security men flanked at either side of the doors- who glanced at each other hesitantly and barely moved at his guidance, obviously recognising her, “How did you even get in?”

“Ridiculous what they’ll do for an autograph,” Another one stood, and stared at her thunderously, his Dutch accent causing him to lisp his angry words, “All right, time to go.” He was the first to directly address the security, “Guys, get her out.”

Aisha held up her hand, between her fingers a prestigious card stood proud, the F1 logo bedazzled in gold foil, shimmered beneath the yellow lights, she glanced over her shoulder at the burly, guards who relaxed at her identification.

“Aisha Patel?” She looked to the FIA officer who stared at her, amused with her entrance before ticking off her name, “Porsche F1 driver.” She announced her title, smirking with slight arrogance at the gob-smacked expression on both the French and Dutch men, both of whom flushed an embarrassed red and muttered apologies whilst returning to their seats, next to both of their teammates.

“I’m here for the briefing?” Aisha prompted the officer, before smiling at the rest of her fellow drivers, most of them attempting to suppress their cackles at the other two’s mistake.

“Yes, of course Miss Patel,” The man greeted her, gesturing to an empty seat next to Pierre who smirked at Aisha.

She began to walk down the walkway between the sets of chairs filled by F1 team personnel and racers, waving at a few of the managers from other teams who knew of her position and staring darkly at some drivers who looked her up and down with curiosity.

“Sorry for being late, I was busy paying of my debt. Do you know how much it costs to get your name on the register?” She leaned forward on her crossed knees, looking down the row with a sarcastic expression. The ones who did dare to meet her eyes mumbled in agreement and slumped against their seats.

“Fuck-“The driver who made the comment doubled over, hiding his freckle covered face in his hands, causing his bright orange athleisure jacket to stretch prompting his teammate to chuckle whilst patting his back.

honourary tags [for special pookies] : @disneyprincemuke, @weekendlusting, @woozarts, @mellowarcadefun, @paintedbypoetry, @33-81, @kazuha-pista-badam

A/N : And that's that, the first ever episode [trailer really] of this series is done and dusted. As always please show some love to this tinker-bell minded writer and remember to comment and reblog <33

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bradshawssugarbaby · 4 months

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Cowboy Casanova - Jake Seresin x Reader

A/N: It's been a hot minute since I wrote anything spicy but since Glen had to go and make that comment while reading thirst tweets yesterday, here we are. It's not my best, and it's literally plotless smut, but c'est la vie.

pairing: Lt. Jake Seresin x fem!reader

warnings/content: minors dni below the cut / fingering, praise kink, swearing, daddy kink, breeding kink if you squint, unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it, y'all).

word count: 1.1k

“Come on then, cowboy. Show me what you’ve got,” you challenged, hands resting firmly on your hips as you eyed your tall, blonde-haired boyfriend up, trying to resist the urge to bite your lip as your gaze fell on his sharply toned body, his white long-sleeved henley hugging his muscular physique tightly, accentuating every curve of his arms in a way that was almost hypnotizing.

“Cowboy?” Jake retorted, laughing dryly as he raised the amber coloured glass bottle in his hand to his lips, taking a sip of the cold, frothy liquid inside, shaking his head in mock disbelief at your bold attitude, trying hard to deny any semblance of feeling towards you over it.

“You heard me. You sure as shit talk like one.”

“You makin’ fun of my accent, darlin’? I thought most women go wild for a good Southern boy.”

“Most women might. It takes more than an accent to win me over, gorgeous.”

He leaned in towards you, his tall frame towering in as he ducked his head down beside your ear. His voice was a low, seductive whisper as he spoke - he knew what he was doing, you were terrible at bluffing, and honestly, so was he, but that was part of what made this whole exchange so appealing.

“Oh believe me, I’m up for the challenge,” He purred as he stroked your cheek with the back of his hand, his fingers brushing against your skin lightly, yet in a way that made your skin feel hot to the touch.

He pressed his lips to the sensitive patch of skin directly in front of your ear, his warm breath taunting your nerves as you felt it brush over you. The smell of beer mixed with his intoxicating cologne, and you felt your head begin to spin as his lips made their way down the curve of your cheekbone, trailing their way to your neck before resting on the sweet spot where your neck and shoulder met. You felt your back press flat against the wall as Jake put his hands on your waist, gripping your body tightly as he held you in place, his knee resting in between your legs, keeping them spaced just far enough apart for him for his hand to find its way between your thighs, reaching up the short skirt you’d decided to wear that day. You felt Jake’s lips curl up into a smirk against your skin as he ran his fingertips along your slit, a cocksure chuckle escaping his lips as his fingers brushed your clit.

“So wet for me already, babygirl,” He hummed against your neck before nipping at your sensitive skin with his teeth, continuing to grin against you as he left soft bite marks on your skin.

“Only for you, daddy,” You murmured, knowing that calling Jake that was a surefire way to have him practically ripping your clothes off in seconds. It drove him wild whenever he heard it fall from your lips like a prayer, he could barely contain himself whenever you did, and you loved taking advantage of that fact.

Jake plunged two of his long, thick digits into your core as soon as the words came out of your mouth, barely giving you time to react to his touch. You threw your head to the side, letting out a loud whine as he pressed his fingers into you, pumping them at a taunting pace as you let out a series of lewd noises.

“Look at my pretty girl, all dripping wet for me,” Jake teased, his tone low and deep as he grinned at you, unable to stop himself from getting cocky about the effect he had on you.

He pulled his fingers out quickly, leaving you a whimpering mess at the loss of contact as he stuck them into his mouth, his wide tongue licking them clean before he undid his belt with his free hand. As he pulled his fingers out of his mouth, he quickly dropped his jeans to the ground, kicking his boxers off his legs with them. Jake pressed you against the wall once again, his hardened cock pushing into your thigh as he lifted you up to hold your legs around his waist, using the wall as leverage to balance you where he wanted. He used one hand to guide his tip along your soaking core, leaving you a babbling mess at just the touch of him. Without warning, he pushed himself into you, an obscene sounding grunt coming out of his mouth as he felt your body clench around him.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Taking Daddy’s cock so good for me, aren’t you? Want Daddy to fill you up, hmm?”

You attempted to respond, but your words could barely make their way into a coherent sentence as Jake continued to thrust into you, his movements becoming sharp and quick as he found his rhythm, thrusting as deep and hard into you as your bodies would allow. You managed to nod your head quickly in reply, but even getting your mind and body on the same page long enough for a simple head nod was next to impossible at this point. Jake prided himself in never half-assing anything, and that extended into his sex life. Not once in your relationship had he left you unsatisfied, or without craving, wanting, needing more.

“I’m so close,” You finally managed to sputter out, the only words that could come to you when Jake had you like this.

“Let it go, honey,” His words were more of a command than a phrase of encouragement as he said them, but it wasn’t like you had much of a choice over it at this stage. You felt Jake beginning to lose control as your wet cunt clenched around him tightly, As Jake’s thrusts became sloppier, you felt him reach his climax, filling you with hot spurts of cum as he threw his head back, making his shouts of your name sound obscene as he was overrun with pleasure.

Panting heavily as he leaned against the wall, pinning you in place after helping you put your feet back on the floor, Jake’s sea-green eyes met yours with a lustful, yet loving gaze. He smirked as he gently pushed a strand of hair that fell from your ponytail behind your ear, leaning in to kiss you passionately, the heat of your bodies radiating between you, sweat dampening your brow.

“How ‘bout you and I take this to the bedroom so I can fuck you properly?” Jake smirked, raising one of his dark blonde eyebrows at you.

“You’re on, Cowboy, you’re on.”

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genericpuff · 6 months

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The Extended Mishandling of LO's S3 Midseason Finale Premiere (Pt 2)

Alrighty, I promised a part two back in the first part of this analysis, but found myself busy with Rekindled and my day job, so I'm finally sitting down and finishing this up. If you haven't read that first part yet, please go check it out!

CAUTION: THERE BE FASTPASS SPOILERS AHEAD!

We left off with Hebe and Apollo roleplaying that one scene from The Lion King, albeit with a lot less sense or nuance. Literally all the "drama" so far feels purely manufactured for cheap plot progression and tension and it hardly feels authentic. But now we gotta talk about the second half of this episode, where we finally address the cliffhanger that the FP midseason finale episode left off on - Persephone causing winter.

And what better way to kick it off than with a completely off-base Persephone monologue?

Now, what's shown here is actually a flashback to the job interview scene from S1, when Persephone asked to see the snow in the Underworld. But it's written as if Persephone has some intimate relationship with snow as a whole, as if she's experienced more than this one time which... she hasn't. There was nothing "romantic" really about that scene following the job interview, she literally just wanted to go out and see something she hadn't seen before.

But that calls into question - why does Persephone constantly act like she has an intimate relationship with snow when it doesn't occur in the Mortal Realm? She even says in the honeymoon episode that it's hot all the time in the Mortal Realm, and the temperature only drops every now and then during rainy days... and she somehow makes this about Hades when it literally has nothing to do with him lmao Persephone monologues are some of the worst /r/im14andthisisdeep moments in the series because she's constantly using word salad to describe feelings we never saw or scenes that never happened.

And this scene is no different. She says that snow is something that's interwoven with her most 'treasured moments' but all the visuals have to show for is that one scene from S1 that, again, didn't even come across as a 'treasured moment', it was just her seeing the snow for the first time, there was nothing 'romantic' about it in a vacuum. All the moments from the series you could call ACTUALLY TREASURED milestones of Hades and Persephone's relationship - and Persephone's supposed "love" for the Underworld - are scenes where snow was completely absent (ex. the scene of Persephone and Hades talking about Sicily in Zeus and Hera's garden, Persephone and Hades spending the night in the cabin during the trial arc, etc.)

But then, to make it even more confusing, she goes on to describe her losing her powers and causing winter a "betrayal". As if the concept of winter owes her anything. As if Erebus owes her anything.

The allusion to Erebus itself in the visuals implies that she feels "betrayed" over this happening, as if it wasn't made ABUNDANTLY CLEAR TO HER that she would have to sacrifice something. She's gone SO LONG without knowing or caring about what she could have possibly given up, that by the time it finally revealed itself, she's acting all shocked Pikachu because there's finally something she can't just have. Everything that could make her seem imperfect has been washed away, from her SA trauma to those pesky green hands. Now we finally ARE seeing her affected by her own choices and she's basically waxing poetic about how sad it is that her actions have consequences.

That said, she does seem to have a moment of self-awareness here... but I can't be confident it will actually amount to anything seeing as how all the past attempts at 'growth' have been overshadowed by her vanity and ego.

This line is really confusing / weird in the way that it's written but I think she's trying to say that the source of the cold is from her, she can't pin it on any sort of 'big bad' like she could with Apollo and Kronos. It's just her.

And again, this could be a moment of realization for her that her actions are her own regardless of whatever she wants to pin it on-

But she rejects it instead. She's still not capable of acknowledging that her choices affect others, that her actions have consequences, that she's finally paying the price for something she knew had a cost.

If this were any other comic, I would accept her rejection of this, I would have confidence in knowing she may recognize it eventually. But this is LO and we're three seasons in, she's technically already gotten her happily ever after in the form of becoming Queen and married to her 'true love', so all of this feels like a very last-minute attempt to paint Persephone as this "struggling" character. But she's not "struggling", she's just finally experiencing karma catching up to her and as expected for a person like Persephone, she's already cracking under the pressure of realization that she can't have everything she wants.

Again, in any other comic, this would feel satisfying or endearing to see her fall on her own sword, but to me it just feels frustrating in the context of LO because we've spent five years seeing her get everything she wants with barely any real struggle that wasn't manufactured - with all of it painted as a GOOD THING - while still getting away with treating the people around her like shit.

And when I say she rejects this concept of having humility, I don't just mean through her monologuing, but also through her actions.

If I were to critique LO the same way I would an actual functional series, I would say that this should be the point of realization, the point where we see her crumble under the weight of her not being perfect, not being able to "fix" everything. It all stems back to her entitlement as a bratty main character, someone who can't fathom not being the main character or the "hero".

Because she's not the hero. Demeter is - or at least, she tries to be.

Again, it's hard to know if this is intentional or if this is yet another attempt to present Demeter as an "overbearing mom", but Persephone here looks and sounds like she's been reduced back to the state of a child crying for her mother in the face of her own failures. Despite now technically being a mother herself (through literal babynapping sigh) Persephone is still not a mature adult. Aging her up 10 years and giving her a husband and baby will not make her an actual functional independent adult who's capable of taking care of themselves or making the right decisions... unlike Demeter who is still, ultimately, more skilled than Persephone. She is an actual experienced and mature adult who's capable of rationalizing and decision making, and knowing when it's time to put aside your ego, walk away and let someone else who's far more qualified take care of things.

What Demeter has is something that one can only gain through true hardship, failing, learning from one's own mistakes, and experience, all of which Persephone does not have because she transitioned from a cage of her own imagination where hard work and responsibility was a virtue, into a gilded cage where true hard work can be passed onto someone else whose efforts she could take credit for while sitting on a throne and buying anything and everything she could ever want.

Despite everything Persephone and the narrative claims to have 'earned', she's still a child. The adults have to take over.

And like a child, she doesn't let them.

This is not an 'anime moment'. This is not a moment of redemption. This is immaturity and irresponsibility in its most visible form for Persephone - refusing to let go of her ego and shortcomings to "prove herself", even if it means making things worse.

And Hades enables it.

I want to make it clear there is a massive difference between not being controlling over someone, and actually enabling them.

This is not some small hill to die on. Persephone is literally causing winter, which could very well kill the Mortals. As we've seen in that prior Hebe scene from the first part of this essay, the snow is showing up in Olympus. This isn't something that's happening in the isolation of this single scene, this is happening everywhere and instead of taking the L, Persephone is trying to make things 'better' by simply 'trying harder' which is just not the solution here, Demeter knows this, but Hades is playing the "girlboss" version of a "good husband" by not even bothering to try and convince her to do otherwise. Hades above everyone else should be the one stepping in because he'd likely be the only one she'd actually listen to, but he's refusing to because he has to be the "good husband" who doesn't control the actions of his wife.

So he flat out enables her instead by not even bothering to try and reason with her, to help her see that what she's doing is not helping. Not even so much as a "Persephone, I know you want to help but it's clear something is wrong and if Demeter can figure out what to do to fix this, we should let her", just him saying to Demeter who wants to stop her that he can't stop her from trying... ignoring the fact that he should at least try.

And that's the difference between being controlling and being an enabler. He's not keeping her from doing something that benefits her and doesn't harm him or others. He's not micromanaging her decisions or trying to tell her she's not capable. Now, don't get me wrong, there are definitely things that make Hades a walking red flag especially when it comes to him being a groomer, but when it comes to directly controlling Persephone, most of the time she's doing things of her own accord convinced that it's "the right thing" (which is still just a side effect of the obvious grooming because I really doubt S1 Persephone would have done this shit lmao).

Here, he's not stepping in to even try to reason with her because "well I'd be a bad husband if I stepped in", completely ignoring the fact that it makes him a terrible person, period, to not at least try to calmly reason with his wife and explain to her that her 'help' is not going to help here. Just like when he rewarded her with sex for abusing a nymph in her own home, he's completely complacent to Persephone's actions and doesn't step in to try and help because, according to Wattpad and TikTok, a "good husband" is someone who looks the other way while his life partner does whatever she wants regardless of the consequences to herself and others. "Happy wife, happy life, who cares if the wife wants to be an actual piece of shit to people if it makes her happy".

And thus she makes things worse in her pursuit of "happiness", while Hades stands idly by, watching it all unfold as if he's just an innocent bystander who can absolve himself of any responsibility in this situation. As if she didn't become this way because she ate the pomegranate to be with him and a part of his world.

Now, there's one other sort-of-blatant smoking gun that I want to talk about that I haven't really seen anyone else mention since this episode went up. Granted, this might be me reading far too much into it, but hey, that's what this blog is for and I think it's something that absolutely needs to be mentioned.

Persephone goes on about how her powers aren't just gone, they've been replaced, all she can create is decay, and more specifically-

Now... think of the context of LO's narrative, what it's told us both literally and through subtext, intentional or not.

What does this sound like?

Hades lost his ability to produce children when he ate the pomegranate. He can no longer "create life".

And now, Persephone is finding herself in a similar situation, unable to "create life" the way she knows how. I'd like to think this isn't literal, but it really feels like there's a metaphorical implication here that Persephone losing her ability to create life is meant to be taken literally, that she not only can't create flowers and plant life anymore, but she's lost her fertility entirely. You can go even further back in this when it was established Persephone didn't eat six seeds, but nine, which originally felt like a weirdly random choice, but now seems intentional. I know some people have theorized that it has to do with her possibly being pregnant, but I don't think that's the case, I think it's the opposite - that the 9 months was a metaphor for the 9 months of childbearing that Persephone can no longer do.

And if that's the case... LO truly is no longer a "feminist" piece of work. It barely was before, but if the point of all this winds up being an attempt by Rachel to give Persephone a "flaw" by taking away her ability to bear children... that'll be a punch to the gut.

That said, if it does go somewhere, maybe the point will be Persephone learning she doesn't need to be able to reproduce to have value as a woman. But considering LO's track record with these sorts of plotlines, I can't be confident in the slightest that's where it'll end up. What I can be confident in is that Persephone will likely not stay this way. Like her green hands, she'll likely get her powers back, maybe after the resolution that she's still a real woman deserving of love even if she can't reproduce. I can't possibly know at this point where it's going, all I do know is that LO hasn't done a great job at resolving these sorts of deeper narratives so this just feels like another dart on the wall of bad ideas. Because it's, again, all being framed through Persephone being the "perfect woman", without there being any actual subtext throughout the narrative to imply that this may be a flawed ideology to have, it's just what Persephone has to be and it's sold in the narrative as a positive.

There's one term to describe this with that's rather consistent throughout LO when you peel back the layers of both the comic and Rachel's past work - white feminism. Despite LO's attempts to be "feminist", it's still ultimately being written through a heteronormative male gaze, that women are only "valuable" so long as they're youthful, that any goals or dreams a woman may have should be dropped as soon as they fall in love with a rich and powerful man, and that "other women" who don't fit into that mould of being rich, white, and heterocis are not worthy of love, empathy, or understanding. It's hard to trust that LO will actually challenge these norms when it's been practically enforcing them for five years.

But ultimately, that's a very loaded topic and right now, we don't know where this is going... I'm just not so sure I want to see it after all the missteps the series has pulled over the past half a decade. Like the miracle of childbirth, it's gonna take a miracle for LO to actually stick this landing.

Now, I'm assuming you read this line of dialogue, and you understood it. Yes? You positive? Okay, great. Why am I asking you this question as if you're an infant who doesn't understand what being "passed out" means? Well, you'll see what I mean in a minute.

Now, again, like with the whole "I can't bring life to anything anymore" thought process I just went through, I can't know exactly what they're trying to do here, but Demeter is fully in the right. I want to make that abundantly clear that Demeter was right the whole time and it's pretty telling that even a lot of the people reading the comic in good faith are pointing this out in the discussion circles they can actually access.

Now, in case anyone hasn't noticed, it's clear that Demeter herself is drawing upon the fertility magic of Gaia or Rachel is just alluding to Gaia for some reason. At first I thought it was supposed to be her form of "wrath" until I remembered that (unfortunately) Eris was the only reason for Persephone's wrath, so this is clearly meant to be some allusion to Gaia. Considering the fertility powers were passed down purely through Gaia and Ouranos, this means Demeter is a descendant of Gaia, which... calls into question Rachel's attempts to "remove the incest" from LO, but that's for another topic.

Either way, Demeter is fully in the right here. Hades is a fucking idiot - a useless lump - for not only enabling the shitty actions of his shitty wife, but for not taking even any amount of accountability for the fact that Persephone found out about the pomegranate through him.

"But Puff, she had to eat the pomegranate to beat Kronos!" Did she? Or was that purely manufactured for Rachel's sake because she just had to have an MCU Evil-Robot-Jeff-Bridges villain despite the fact that this FANTASY ROMANCE series didn't need one? The fact that it was written purely to 'force' Persephone into doing something she already wanted to do was completely redundant, it wasn't a 'sacrifice' she made, it was made pretty clear in Episode 165 that she wanted to eat the pomegranate as soon as she found out about it and while that decision is certainly her own, that does not absolve Hades of responsibility for not questioning his future wife's fascination with it or realizing that he unlocked the inner Pandora's Box of Persephone's mind.

And so, Demeter holds him responsible. As she should.

Okay, you read that, right? But remember that line I asked you about before? We should all know Demeter doesn't mean this literally. We have brains and we should all have a minimum amount of media literacy to understand that Hades was telling the truth when he literally said Persephone was "passed out".

We finish the episode on this panel, which I swear to christ I couldn't tell you in all of my own divine wisdom of the arts what in the world is going on in this panel. I'm literally looking at salad.

Is it Demeter and Persephone? Just some dying plants? I have no fucking clue, your guess is as good as mine.

But we're not done. Because we have one more glaring issue to talk about with this episode, and it comes in the form of an author's note that was inserted at the end of the episode. It is truly, despite EVERYTHING we've talked about in both parts of this analysis, the dumbest, most airheaded and egregiously pretentious thing I've seen in this entire episode.

Rachel quite literally put in a fucking disclaimer telling her audience what Hades already told us point blank in the comic - "Don't worry, audience members, Persephone is not literally dead, it's a metaphor for her spring powers being dead!"

I literally can't even express to you how pretentious and shitty this is of her to do. I can't tell if it's legitimately her thinking her writing is "too smart" for even her older audience members to grasp, or if she just wants to dispel the theories that people would want to make about this, or if she completely misconstrued the criticism about her writing not being "clear enough" and thinks that THIS is what people meant. Pardon my tone because I've kept it together relatively well throughout this post, but this is some 2009-era Fanfiction.net level of author's note bullshit.

If she thinks her writing is "too smart" for her audience to grasp, I'm sorry Rachel, but you're just wrong and this is incredibly shitty of you. You think the 14 year olds in your community aren't also reading other webtoons that have deeper writing than LO? I read Death Note when I was fucking 14 and I knew exactly the point of what the story was getting at by the time it was over, despite all the other stories I read at that age that completely flew over my head. And you think LO is somehow more complicated than Death Note, baby's first introduction to the grey areas of morality and justice?

If she's trying to dispel the theories... that actually holds some merit because not only is Rachel notoriously bad at not letting her fandom just talk about their theories without her swooping in to "um actually" them (even if it means killing the fun of theorizing), but the official FP page on FB was closed to new submissions in the hours following this episode and it since hasn't posted any new content. Is it because people aren't posting? Absolutely not. The mods are quite literally holding these posts hostage through the submission and approval system. People are legitimately trying to submit only for the mods to block it entirely from going through. If this is Rachel's attempts at trying to "protect herself" from the criticism this episode has surely earned, then all she's really doing is punishing her own fans who want to talk about it. It doesn't matter anymore that the discussion groups are finally back from 3-4 months of being shut down over the hiatus, they're still not being allowed to operate. The best there is now is the Discord and it's undoubtedly just as heavy moderated as the FB groups.

And as for the third possibility, this also feels like an attempt at Rachel trying to make her writing "more clear" without actually putting in the work of writing a good story. She's undoubtedly seen the criticisms towards LO as a whole that it doesn't express itself clearly, that it constantly flip flops on character motivations and information that has been established, and that any monologuing that's done implies things or events that we've never seen unfold on screen (case in point, the Persephone monologue from the start of this episode) but she seems to have either misconstrued or ignored the point of that criticism entirely by solving it with a quick and shitty author's note at the end explaining her intentions with a scene that was already clearly laid out to us. Instead of putting in the work to write a concise story to explain the things that are a bit more under-developed, she's slapping in a spoonfed explanation for scenes that literally don't need explaining and that ultimately cheapens the scenes that are TRYING to have impact, bringing them down to the same level of mediocrity as the scenes that never had the impact they intended to have to begin with. "You've killed the Goddess of Spring" was plenty clear after Hades said she was passed out, Rachel. Taking the time to explain it in a note at the end is just sad and it really goes to show what you think of your audience, especially when it comes to how you treat your fans in regards to community accessibility in the official discussion groups.

"The haters" didn't set this comic onto the path that it's on or ruin the fanbase experience, Rachel - you did.

#also i stg if she's just redoing the coma plotline from S2 #you can't just go to sleep and avoid the consequences of your actions persephone #wake tf up and take some goddamn accountability #lore olympus critical #lo critical #anti lore olympus

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thelaurenshippen · 5 months

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re: that *chef kiss* PERFECT Franken-Drummer post and tumblr not being all over The Expanse, I know right?? it’s such an amazing show with so many delightful, complicated characters yet it’s so unfairly slept on! maybe because S1 takes awhile to get going and ppl give up? idk but it makes me sad that I have so few ppl to squeal about Drummer and Amos and Bobbie and Christjen and Ashford and Naomi (ad infinitum) with 😭🚀😭

WHY ARE PEOPLE NOT OBSESSED WITH THE EXPANSE HELLO!?!?! there's literally so much to love about it oh my god. you're right, it DOES take a second to get going but once it does!!!

for those of you who have not read or seen The Expanse series (I myself have yet to read the books), let me tell you why you'll love it:

political space drama with incredibly distinct cultures and phenomenal world building, if you're a details girlie (gn), you're gonna go nuts

the found family vibes!!??! are off!?!? the charts!?!? (minor spoilers for the first few episodes) four people are thrown into a situation in which they accidentally become the most important people/fugitives in the whole galaxy and most of them DO NOT trust each other, what could possible go wrong, and even better, what could possibly go RIGHT

Christjen Avasarala. you are not ready for her. most powerful mover-shaker on earth with the most incredible outfits you've ever seen, refined elegance with the filthiest mouth, plus she's got a classic "whatever those two have going on is so gay it veers into something else entirely" with her younger protective knight lady, Bobbie

Bobbie. the "not to be a lesbian but oh my god" post is made for her. we meet her in the show for the first time when she arm wrestles a robot and WINS. you will be begging for her to step on you with her mech suit

speaking of women I want to step on me Camina Drummer. angry revolutionary pirate queen of my heart. do you miss the unique agony of 2000/10s queerbaiting but want it to be not baiting somehow? this show does that, idk how else to explain it. the most agonizing sapphic pining you've ever seen but it's textual and also not painful because its gay. don't worry, Camina fucks, just not the girl she wants most (also spoilers, but this is not a bury your gays show don't worry)

Jim Holden is literally just Some Guy who becomes the special fantasy chosen one because he simply cannot stop Getting Involved. nosiest bitch in the universe, I love him.

imagine you're a girl who leaves your shitty ex and gets a normal industrial job on a spaceship, only to have a six foot, two hundred pound killer dressed as a mechanic imprint on you like a baby duck, and its unclear whether he wants to fuck you or call you a little sister but he definitely WILL kill for you and will do literally anything you say and then you both end up caught up in a weird galactic war by mistake and there's this other guy with a captain america level moral compass and he's cute and you're into him except your shitty ex is still out there with the biggest secret you have and meanwhile your best female friend is the coolest person you've ever met but you don't think you can be what she needs and you're holding your family together, you're holding the universe together and all you want is justice for your people but unfortunately you've gone and fallen in love with the accidental most important man in the galaxy. well, every day Naomi Nagata wakes up

Praxideke Meng. botanist of my heart. literally tames the rabid guard dog that no one else could. gentle and able to stay gentle because of said dog. which brings me to...

Amos Burton. I saved him for last because he is my guy. he is THAT guy. canonically aromantic pansexual king. are you into guard dog characters? do you find yourself drawn to the "sorry my love language is acts of service and all I'm good at is killing people" characters? amos burton is like seventeen tumblr posts come to life. previously mentioned enormous killer dressed as a mechanic, former heels wearing "I didn't always work in space" sex worker who is always rolling into brothels and being like "you guys unionized?", gives a shit about basically no one in the universe except his crew and every single child in the galaxy, accidental comedian because he cannot stop saying weird shit, not a nice or good person but a loyal one, and one who is always trying to relearn the empathy that was carved out of him as a young person. every time he goes homicidal to protect one of his chosen people (crew + any and every child), an angel gets its wings.

fin.

#answered #the expanse #most of this is cribbed from the essay I was texting a friend the other day lol #which is what inspired my expanse posting in the first place #bc I was like 'I HAVE to stop bothering this friend' lol #btw the canonically aromantic pansexual thing teeeechnically comes from the writers' twitter?#but like #you simply have to watch the show to know that about amos #he mostly doesn't sleep with people in the show and yes the few he does are women but the dude is queer #but anyway the authors have explicitly said he's aromantic and that his sexuality is 'yes'

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babybluebex · 2 years

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𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝟐 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: series masterlist | on the night of graduation, eddie makes good on his promise to you and finally takes your virginity. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: eddie munson (stranger things, 2022) x fem!reader 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut (minors dni, oral f!receiving, p in v sex, unprotected sex) praise kink, innocence kink, corruption kink. loss of virginity, possessiveness, everyone in this is 18+ and if you aren't, you shouldn't be reading it! 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: FINALLY managing to get this sequel out! and i have plans for more parts, so keep an eye out for a series masterlist! follow my taglist blog (@cremebruhleewrites) to be notified whenever i post something new!

Being Eddie’s girl was better than you could have ever hoped it could be. Finally, you could kiss him and hold him, just as you had dreamed of for so long. It really was a dream come true.

You told the crew at Hellfire the day after you became official, and you had a few words with Dustin. “If you knew the whole time, why would you pretend like you wanted to know?” you asked.

“I didn’t give him the idea,” Dustin quickly defended himself. “I mentioned something about anonymous love letters, and he must have taken it from there.”

“That’s literally you giving him the idea,” you argued. “You’re infuriating. Anyway, it was Eddie; surprise.”

True to his word, Eddie continued leaving you little love notes in your locker, only now they were written with his proper hand, and he signed his name every time. The shoebox full of letters under your bed grew more and more full, and you adored every second of being Eddie’s.

He was so proud to have you as his girlfriend, and he showed you all the time. His arm was always around your shoulders or your waist, he pressed kisses to your face all the time, he would give you his jacket if you were cold or let you have the last bit of his lunch if you were hungry. He called you a litany of precious names, sweetheart or princess or baby, sometimes choosing “my girl”; every name made you grin.

Eddie had snuck into your bedroom a few times after the first night, but he had kept his word, and he never fucked you. You did try to beg him to, but he was steadfast, not wanting to take your virginity before the right time. Whenever you asked when the right time was, he always shook his head. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But it’s not now, baby. I’ll know it when I see it.”

A month passed together, then another, and soon it was time for graduation. Eddie had managed to finally pass Ms. O’Donnell’s class, and you had been the first he had told the good news to, picking you up and spinning you around. “‘86, baby!” he exclaimed. “My year! What’d I tell you?”

“What’s going on?” you asked. “Eddie, what—”

“I’m graduating!” He exclaimed. “I passed O’Donnell’s final, I’m gonna graduate!”

“Oh my God!” you cried. “Eddie, I’m so proud of you! Oh, baby…” You clutched his face and kissed him deeply, and he held you close as he kissed you back. “But don’t actually flip off Principal Higgins, please. I don’t want you getting in more trouble.”

The day of graduation came, and you pinned your cap to your head as you looked in the mirror in your bedroom. Eddie had come over to get ready for graduation, and he was laying on your bed as he watched you get ready. He was dressed nicely, maybe for the first time in his life, a buttoned shirt and khakis, although he still wore his dirty white Reeboks, but he was still as handsome as ever. “Alright,” you said, deciding your cap was secured. “Come on over, it’s your turn.”

“You come over here,” Eddie smiled. “I’m too comfy on your bed.”

You rolled your eyes jokingly, and you got up from your place at your vanity and carried over a handful of bobby pins to where Eddie was sat, and you smoothed down his frizzy curls as you settled his cap on top of his head. “I’m really proud of you,” you told him, and you opened a bobby pin with your teeth before securing his cap to his hair with it. “You kicked ‘86’s ass.”

“Thank you,” Eddie said with a smile. “It means a lot that we get to graduate together.”

You pouted out your lip at his sweetness, and he quickly swooped in and kissed your pouted lip. “You’re cheesy,” you told him, and he just laughed.

“Well, it’s true,” Eddie told you. “I’m happy to be graduating at all, but especially with you at my side. I love you, princess.”

You knew that Eddie loved you, and he had told you so since before you knew it was him telling you, but hearing him say it was special every time. He said it frequently, but every time felt like the first time. Your heart flipped and your chest warmed, and you hid a smile as you settled another bobby pin in his hair, getting the cap down more securely. He mumbled out an “ow”, and you finally let your smile show. “Sorry,” you told him. “You’re so cute.”

“When? Just now? When I said ‘ow’ because you’re sticking pins in my head?” Eddie asked, and you nodded.

“I love you, you goof,” you told him, and Eddie smiled.

“C’mon, we don’t wanna be late,” Eddie said, standing up quickly, and he grabbed you by your waist and pressed his hand to the small of your back to kiss you quickly. The brims of your caps knocked together as he kissed you, and you giggled.

“Wait,” you started. “Your cap’s not on right—”

“As if I’m keeping this on the whole time.”

Eddie had been right; he had taken the cap off almost the exact moment he was allowed to, after he crossed that stage and got his diploma. Tears were in your eyes as you watched him, donned in the green cap and gown, his hair fluffy at his shoulders as he shook Principal Higgins’ hand and accepted the diploma, and you covered your mouth with a laugh as, just before he stepped off the stage, he flipped a quick middle finger in the older man’s direction.

The crowd had a mixed reaction— the parents gasped and the students all laughed— and Eddie was grinning like a fool when he got back to his seat. He was a few rows in front of you, and he turned to you and gave you an enthusiastic thumbs-up that made your heart warm. You sent him one back, and Eddie looked down at the diploma in his lap with a grin. You could tell that he was proud of himself as much as you were.

Eddie found you after the ceremony ended, hugging you tightly. “Babe, babe, look,” he said, bouncing excitedly. He opened the little folder that the diploma was in, and he grinned at his name written there in fancy fake cursive. “Edward Munson, high school graduate.”

“Oh, Eddie,” you cooed and hugged him, tucking your head into his neck. “I’m so fucking proud of you, baby.”

“And you!” Eddie exclaimed. Your diploma looked exactly like his, only with your name written in that awful cursive, and Eddie kissed you quickly. “You graduated the first time! My smart girl.”

“What’s that saying, third times the charm?” you said, and Eddie’s grin grew. “C’mon, let’s go home.”

“Wait, baby, wait,” Eddie said quickly, and he tugged you close, hugging you again. His mouth nestled right up against your ear, and he whispered, “I wanna take you to dinner tonight. Just you and me.”

“Okay,” you nodded. “I’d like that.”

“Baby, did you hear me?” Eddie asked. His eyes went all big as he pulled out from your ear, and he repeated himself. “Dinner, tonight. Just you and me.”

“Oh!” you gasped as you understood what he meant. Your heart flipped in your chest and you couldn’t help but giggle at the insinuation. You had nearly forgotten his promise to take you to dinner before he fucked you, and your heart raced in your chest at the reminder of it. “O-Okay. Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Eddie said softly.

“M-Maybe we could skip dinner,” you suggested, your fingers knotting in your honor society cord. You couldn’t bear to look Eddie in the eye as you suggested it, and you focused on his silly white trainers, as you muttered, “Go straight to dessert, y’know what I mean?”

“I do,” Eddie told you. “Are you gonna be able to come to my place tonight for dessert? Wayne’s working tonight, and I want you to be able to really enjoy dessert, without worrying if your parents will hear.”

“Yeah, I can do that,” you said, and your heart melted at his sweetness. “You’re so good to me.”

“I’m just doing what a boyfriend oughta do,” Eddie shrugged.

“Well,” you told him, and you leaned close to him to swipe a kiss on his cheek. “You’re a very good boyfriend, Ed.”

You had been to Eddie’s trailer a few times before, mostly just to help him study. There had been the one time where his hand had managed to snake up your skirt as you tried to help him study for biology, but, other than that, the trailer was new territory for you. You liked the energy of it, small and comfortable and homely, but Eddie seemed almost nervous to bring you there.

“This is it,” he said, sealing his hands together in front of his body. “Um, bathroom’s that way if you need it… We can watch some TV or something if you want, whatever you need to… To get comfy, y’know?”

You were quick to tug Eddie close to you by his belt, and you laid a gentle kiss on his sweet lips. “I’ll be okay,” you whispered, and Eddie nodded. “Where’s your room?”

“Back here,” Eddie told you, and he took your hand in his as he led you to the furthest back room in the trailer. “It’s messy, I tried to clean it up but, like, I didn’t get very far. Got rid of all the dead cigarette butts, so hopefully it doesn’t smell too bad.”

He was right; the bedroom was just a little chaotic, magazines and various junk scattered over every surface. His ashtray next to his bed was empty, though, even if it didn’t do much to alleviate the smell of cigarettes. But you didn’t care too much, because it was all Eddie. He had seen your bedroom, the only place in the world that was really yours, and now you had seen his. You quickly sat down in his unmade bed, hearing the old springs squeak underneath you, and you gathered your pillow in your arms as you settled yourself on your back.

“Making yourself at home,” Eddie chuckled. “I like it. You look so good like that.”

“Like what?” you asked, and Eddie tugged the pillow from your grip before he climbed onto the bed, resting over you with his elbows by your head.

“In my bed,” Eddie told you, and he swooped down to kiss your lips. You giggled softly as you kissed him back, and you threw your arms around his neck and pulled him closer. “Lookin’ all cute and comfy. You look like you belong here.”

“Do I?” you asked, and Eddie kissed you again.

“Of course you do, princess,” Eddie replied. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather see you.”

His curls tickled your face as he kissed you, and you couldn’t help but grin into his kiss. Eddie never failed to make you feel like a true princess, and you loved him for it. It was bursting in your chest to tell him, and you gently bit his bottom lip. “I love you,” you whispered, and Eddie shared your smile.

“God, I love hearing you say that,” Eddie whispered, and his kiss moved from your mouth to settle into your neck. His lips were gentle as he sucked at your neck, and you didn’t even think to chastise him for leaving a mark. You knew that, later, you’d have to lie to your parents and explain away the mark as a burn from your curling iron, but, for now, you enjoyed Eddie’s sweet lips on your neck.

“Taste so good,” Eddie mumbled into your neck, and his teeth caught your skin, earning him a quick yelp. “Sound good too.”

“Eddie,” you whimpered, your fingers tangling in his dark curls. You loved his hair, you always had, and you tugged slightly to get him to lift his face from your neck. All that did, however, was make Eddie moan against the damp patch on your skin.

“I’m gonna fuck you so nice,” Eddie whispered. “Make it worth your time, baby, I promise.”

“You always do,” you told him. “M-Make my time worth it, I mean. Like, I love whenever I’m with you, I hate being away from you—”

“You’re blabbering,” Eddie told you, and he laid one last kiss on your neck. “It’s cute, though.”

His skilled hands lightly touched your waist, tangling in the waistband on your skirt, and he kissed your mouth again as he carefully undressed you. Eddie was being so gentle with you, something that he typically did, but it felt more special this time. Something about knowing that you were gonna go all the way with Eddie was igniting a fire in your belly, and your hands hurried to undress him too.

“I love you,” you told him as you shucked off his nice buttoned shirt, and you were quick to touch every tattoo he had, kissing the ones on his chest and lifting his arm to your mouth to kiss at his puppet master tattoo. Eddie sighed, almost a moan, and he watched you with big, greedy eyes as your hands fell down to his belt.

“C’mere,” he mumbled, and he used his strength to turn you over so that he was underneath you, his hips slotted perfectly between your thighs. He settled himself up against the wall and watched you for a moment as you adjusted your weight, and he pushed his hair behind his ear as his own hands went to unbutton your shirt.

You had done these motions countless times with Eddie, kissing and undressing, but something about this specific moment made you grab at Eddie’s wrist to stop him. “Wait,” you said softly. “I-I’m nervous.”

“Oh, princess,” Eddie whispered gently, and his hands instantly left your shirt. “Do you not wanna do this? We don’t have to.”

“No, no, I want to,” you said. “I’m just nervous.”

“Alright,” Eddie said, and his hands gently touched your hips. “What’re you nervous about?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Just that… I don’t know. Like, you won’t like me as much afterwards or something, that it’ll hurt, just dumb little things.” You picked at a thread on your skirt as you mumbled out your words, and Eddie was quick to capture your hands in his.

“I’ll make sure it won’t hurt,” Eddie told you. “I’m gonna prep you really good, it won’t hurt, I promise. And as for me liking you less, that’ll never happen. You are stunning, and you’re funny, and you’re smart and kind, nothing is going to change. In fact, I’m gonna love you even more. Okay?” You nodded, taking a deep and steadying breath, and Eddie gave you a crooked smile. “Good, good… Can I kiss you again?”

You nodded quickly, your anxiety at least partly alleviated, and Eddie moved forward and sealed your lips again. This time, his kiss was hungry, his tongue prodding at your lips as you wiggled in his lap, and he groaned softly against your mouth. “Fuck, baby,” he whispered. “You’re right on my dick.”

“Sorry!” you squeaked quickly, but Eddie’s hand was quick to lay flat against your back, keeping you from moving away.

“No, princess, that’s not bad,” Eddie said. “You’re just moving right on my dick and it’s getting me hard.”

“Oh,” you said softly. “Okay. Sorry.”

“What’re you apologizing for?” Eddie asked. “Keep doing it… It feels so fuckin’ good.”

While you and Eddie had experimented before, this felt new and different, knowing that you were working up to having sex. A fun tingle appeared in your belly as you rocked your hips down on him, and Eddie sighed. Between your legs, you could feel a hardness in his pants, and you bit your lip as a smile overtook your mouth. “You like that?” you whispered.

“Fuck, yes, baby,” Eddie moaned. “Feels so good, you have no idea…”

You did have an idea of it, though. Every pass of his clothed erection on your panties was a spark, and you were worried that the fire would spread too quickly to get anything meaningful done. “Eddie,” you moaned softly, and his hands cemented themselves on your waist. “Eddie, fuck me, please.”

“You don’t have to beg,” Eddie chuckled. “Although it sounds damn nice when you do.” With that, he turned you again so that you laid underneath him, and he kneeled above you as you undressed. Eddie littered kisses on your face once your shirt was up and over, and his own hands went to his pants, finally unbuttoning them and unzipping them. His cock spilled forward, held in only by his boxers, straining against the fabric, and your mouth watered.

You had never seen Eddie’s dick before. Every time he snuck into your room and pleasured you, he never worried about himself, and you could only imagine the way he tugged his cock once he was alone, and excitement filled your chest as Eddie wriggled around, getting his pants down his thighs and off. He kicked them off the side of his bed, and he delved back down to you, kissing your neck again.

“Eddie,” you moaned gently, your naked legs wrapped around his waist, and he jerked his hips up, pressing his clothed dick right against your weeping pussy. Your wetness smeared on the fabric, and the vein on Eddie’s neck stood out as he clenched his back teeth.

“Fuck, baby,” he whispered. “This is gonna be so fuckin’ good, look at how wet you are…” His fingers gently glided up your slit, collecting your slick on his fingertips, and he offered his fingers to, letting them touch your mouth. “You wanna taste yourself?”

Curiosity overtook you, and you opened your mouth to accept his fingers. The taste wasn’t anything special— really, you tasted his fingers more than you tasted your arousal— but Eddie’s reaction of flushed cheeks and quiet moans made the experience worth it. “Just like that,” Eddie mumbled, his big eyes drinking in the sight of you underneath him.

You still wore your panties, and Eddie was quick to rectify that, using his free hand to tug them down your legs and off altogether. For a moment, he paused and looked at your panties in his fist, and he pressed them to his face, taking a deep breath of them. “You smell so good,” he told you, pulling his fingers from your mouth with a pop. “Good enough to eat. Do you want me to eat your pussy, baby?”

“Please,” you whimpered, and Eddie was quick to slink down your body, kissing at your tits and belly as he passed down. Finally, his breaths hit your wet cunt, and you whined softly as you grabbed a handful of his hair.

“Good girl,” he whispered, letting his nose nudge your clit. You knew all about this, even if you had never done it before, and you took a deep breath to calm your heartbeat as a shock of electricity rocketed up into your brain. You had played with yourself before, Eddie had even done it to you, but the first swipe of his tongue on your clit was like nothing you had ever felt.

Your hips involuntarily jerked down into the bed, trying to escape the throbbing pleasure, and Eddie laughed. “Oh, you’re gonna love this,” he told you, his hands snaking up to open your thighs for him, and he went to work, licking a broad stripe up your pussy folds.

He wasn’t neat and clean about the way he ate you out. He was messy about it, spit and arousal coating his chin as he went to town on you, letting his teeth and tongue do the work to drive you closer to your release. Your back arched and you squirmed in his strong grip as he sucked hard at your clit, and those damn big eyes of his lifted up to look at you through his eyelashes.

“Fuck, Eddie,” you moaned, and he released your clit in favor of licking at your wetness again. “More, baby, please, more.”

Eddie pulled back from your pussy, his eyes still fixed on your face, his lips glistening with your arousal, and he worked up a mouthful of spit and quickly spat at your pussy. You shivered as you felt cover your throbbing clit and clenching hole and, somehow, as his eyes fixed on your pussy, you felt more exposed than ever before. “Aw,” Eddie cooed. “She likes being spit on, huh?”

Your head fell back with a sigh as Eddie leaned forward and continued to eat your pussy, shaking his head as he licked at your folds. Every sensation felt new and different, and his moans reverberated up your spine and into your head. You felt dizzy, and you held onto his hair for dear life as he sucked at your leaking hole. “Eddie!” you squealed, your hips bucking up into his mouth.

“Good, baby, good,” Eddie laughed. “Fuck my face, princess, just like that.”

“Need you,” you whimpered, your hips jutting up and into his mouth again. He held his tongue out and happily let you ride his face, and Eddie’s mouth clamped onto your pussy and sucked hard at you. You gave him another squeal as heat curled itself in your belly, and Eddie rubbed soothing circled on the meat of your thighs.

“How do you need me?” Eddie asked. “Tell me, baby, you want me inside you?”

“Yes!” you cried. “Please, Ed, please, I need you!”

“Aw, you said please,” Eddie chuckled, and he released from your pussy finally. You felt sticky and gross with the mix of spit and arousal that coated your skin and hair, but Eddie looked pleased with himself at the state you were in. “You’re so cute, baby. Let me get a condom, make yourself comfy up on the pillows.”

“No!” you whimpered, grabbing his wrist tightly as he rose from his place. “D-Don’t, I…”

“Don’t what, princess?” Eddie asked, and his dark eyebrows furrowed. “Don’t… Get a condom?”

You nodded, biting your lip nervously. “I mean, I-I trust you,” you said. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Y-You can… You can fuck me raw, if you want.” The words felt so wrong and foreign coming from your mouth, and Eddie’s face fell.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “I mean, are you on the pill or something?”

“Well, no,” you began. “But I can get a morning after pill or whatever. Right?”

“Yeah, you can,” Eddie said slowly. “Alright, baby, if you say so. But, remember, if we start and you end up wanting it, it’s really no trouble, alright? If you change your mind, I won’t be upset.”

You nodded, and Eddie finally started to tug down his boxers. You watched greedily as his cock jumped forward once released, coming up to rest against the hairy patch on his tummy, and your breath caught in your throat. His cock was beautiful, long and thick, flushed just a tinge pink, already weeping at the head of him.

Eddie moved closer to you, his hands reaching down and taking yours, and he leaned forward and swiped a kiss on your mouth. “You ready?” he asked softly, his eyes wide and full of concern.

You nodded silently, squeezing his hands, and you whispered, “I’m ready, Ed. Make love to me.”

“God, that sounds good,” Eddie laughed. One of his hands fell off of yours and went to his mouth, and he spit into his palm before rubbing his cock, smearing precum and spit all over himself. He laughed lightly and mumbled, “Ran out of lube, sorry…” and he touched the burning head of his cock to your slick hole.

“Ran out?” you repeated with a laugh.

“I jerk off a lot,” Eddie told you, his cheeks turning pink with embarrassment, and he slowly split you on his cock. The feeling was like nothing you had ever felt before; painful, yes, but so entirely beautiful and amazing. Your eyebrows furrowed and you let out a quiet sound of pain, and Eddie shushed you gently, reaching up to gently touch your cheek. “I know, baby, I know it doesn’t feel great. I’m sorry, I should’ve prepped you better…”

“No, no, you did good,” you told him. “I love it, just… Feels weird, I guess.”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie said softly. He leaned forward and kissed you as he slid further inside you, and you whimpered against his lips as the spongy head of his cock slid against that spot inside you. “I’m so sorry, baby—”

“Feels so good,” you whispered breathlessly, and Eddie stopped his own words in their tracks. “More, Eddie, please.”

“Alright,” Eddie chuckled, and he kissed you again. He slid inside you easily, the mix of spit and precum and your arousal making your hole and his cock slick, and you grabbed at his hair and tugged him into a deep kiss as he settled fully inside you, his heavy balls touching your cunt. Your pussy throbbed around him as he stilled to let you get used to the feeling, and he moaned deep into your mouth. “Fuck, squeezing me and shit… You’re so pretty, princess, I love you.”

“I love you too,” you told him, and Eddie smiled.

“Your pussy certainly loves me,” Eddie said, looking down at where your bodies met. Slowly, he rocked his hips back, withdrawing from you, and then he snapped his hips forward, burying himself inside you again, and you moaned at the feeling.

“Fuck,” you whimpered. “Eddie, please, more, please…”

“You’re cute when you beg,” Eddie told you with a smile. “I’ll give you more, sweetheart, don’t you worry.” With that, his hands came to hold your waist, and he started to fuck you. His pace was slow at first, letting you adjust to the feeling of his hard, rigged cock, and he smiled and bit his lip as you grabbed at his shoulders.

“Eddie,” you moaned. It felt like the only word you knew was his name, your eyes closing blissfully as his thrusts became faster, and your breath caught in your throat as he touched that spot inside you again. “Ed! Fuck!”

“I know, baby, I know,” Eddie whispered, and you quickly shook your head.

“Feels good,” you choked out, and you opened your eyes to see Eddie’s big grin. He looked as happy as you felt, and you smiled up at him. “Hi there, handsome.”

“Hi there, gorgeous,” Eddie told you, and his tongue poked through his lips as he focused for a brief moment on fucking you. His cock slid in and out easily, bolts of pleasure rocking your pussy and body with each thrust, and your fingernails dug into his shoulder as you moaned.

“Fuck,” you whispered. “Does sex always feel this good?”

“With the right person, yeah,” Eddie told you. His chest was flushing red as his thrusts became faster, and the bedsprings underneath you squeaked with every thrust. “You’re the best fuck I’ve ever had, I can tell you right now.”

“Really?” you asked. “How many, umm… How many girls have you fucked before me?”

Eddie sighed, and he fell onto his elbows above you, his arms wrapping tight around you. “Two,” he said. “Both of them were back when I was a senior… The first time, I mean. I…” He laughed softly. “I don’t even remember their names. Some girls from the music scene, I don’t know. I don’t know if I ever knew their names.”

“Oh, Eddie,” you whispered, your heart sinking.

“But it’s alright,” he told you. “You joined Hellfire that year, and… Baby, I fell in love with you the moment I saw you. You were so gorgeous, even back then, and I… I really fell head over heels for you. I did. And it wasn’t until now, with Dustin and the letters and everything… I never imagined I’d actually have you, and now I do. Everything’s alright now, because I have you.”

“Eddie,” you whispered. “Fuck, I love you so much.”

“I love hearing you say that,” Eddie chuckled. “I love you too, darling, you’ve got me for all eternity.”

“That’s a long time,” you giggled, lifting your hips up to meet his.

“Then, you know I’m serious,” Eddie said. “Forever and ever, princess, I’m all yours.”

It didn’t take much longer for you and Eddie to finish, that delicious heat rising and rising in your belly until you were clutching him tightly and crying his name. You were glad that Eddie had the forethought to do it at his place, because you knew that there was no way you would have been able to stay quiet enough to not arouse suspicion from your parents.

Eddie came quickly after you did, filling you up with his release, and he was quick to recover and get you his discarded shirt to clean up with. You laid in his bed as he got up from bed and stretched his arms over his head, and you admired the way his muscles flexed under his inked skin as he found clean clothes in his small closet.

“Eddie?” you started as he returned to you, and he helped you sit up and he tugged a shirt over your head for you. You grinned down at the handmade Corroded Coffin t-shirt that covered your body, and you giggled as you fought to grab your panties. “Eddie, c’mon, I’m serious, I wanna talk to you.”

“Alright,” he said, sitting down next to you. He had slunk himself into a pair of plaid pajama bottoms, his firm chest and belly open to your eyes as he reached over to his nightstand and grabbed a hairband, and he started to put his hair up as he widened his eyes at you, prompting you to speak.

“I, umm,” you started. “You… I know I’m only going to Indianapolis for college, it’s not that far away, but… But long distance, I, um… I’m just scared.”

“Okay,” Eddie mumbled, the hairband held between his teeth. He snapped it around his fingers, and he added, “Are you scared we’ll break up when you go to college?”

“I’m just scared of the distance…” you started. “Yeah, maybe it makes the heart grow fonder, but what if it doesn’t? What if we… What if we don’t survive it?”

Eddie finally finished putting his hair up, and he scooped you into his arms and settled you above him again, your thighs parted around his waist. “We will,” he said. “We’ve survived so far, haven’t we? I’ll come up whenever I can, and there’ll be breaks from school that you’ll come home to Hawkins. We’ll see each other.”

“But what if we don’t?” you asked. “I mean, it’s easy to say all of that now, but what if we don’t survive it? I can’t live without you.”

“And that’s why we’re gonna survive,” Eddie told you. “Because I can’t even bear the thought of you going home tonight and not being with me. My heart hurts whenever you’re not here, and I… I know that we’ll be alright. Okay?”

You nodded, and Eddie’s big hand touched your cheek. “Good,” he said softly. “Stay for just a few more minutes.”

“I’ll stay all night,” you told him, and you kissed him gently, tasting his lips one more time. “Let me call my mom and tell her I’m sleeping over.”

“You’re gonna tell her?” Eddie chuckled.

“Of course not,” you giggled. “I’ll say that Dustin and Jeff and Gareth are staying over too, something about getting ready for D&D on Friday.”

“You’re so cute when you lie to your parents,” Eddie said, pinching your cheek, and you rolled your eyes. “I love you, stupid.”

“I love you too,” you told him. “Stupid.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson smut #joseph quinn #eddie munson x you #my writing

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netherfeildren · 7 months

Text

The Cassandra Complex : Chapter VII : Hysminai

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

A/N: Hello tin can man nation, happy Mando Monday and one million billion trillion apologies that it’s taken me a whole goddamn month to update. This has literally never happened to me with any of my stories before, and quite frankly, it feels terrible! All I can say is that like I said in my last note, after this the story changes drastically, and I was having a difficult time crossing the bridge between how we were and how we will be (oh I sounded so philosophical, are you impressed?) I needed to figure out how it was they’d be feeling in the in-between sort of place they’re at in this chapter. Apparently, that took me a whole month to do, sometimes I think I need to get a grip or something idk.

Anyways, more canon divergence more timeline divergence. so yes, that’s all. Here it is — it’s a little idk — idk how I feel about the chapter after all that, but it is what it is, so tell me what you think!

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 8.0K

Read on AO3

CHAPTER VII : HYSMINAI

Where does unbelief begin?

Anne Carson, Glass, Irony and God

“My fucking back hurts,” he groans, flopping down on top of you. Dirty and sweaty and a little stinky from his unsuccessful hunt today, you push your hands up beneath his shirt, pulling it out from where it’s tucked in his pants to get at his skin, wrapping your legs around the tapered expanse of his strong waist.

A soft whine, as if he thinks he should argue or tell you no but can’t bring himself to. “I’m sweaty,” and then like a confession, or something frightening and shameful, “And tired, and I’m getting old,” he whispers, heavy helmet digging into the crook of your shoulder, crushing your collar bone.

“My poor baby,” you croon at him, one palm stroking the slope of his spine, the other digging beneath the layers of fabric around his neck to get at his tender nape. “You just need a bath, some rest, something to eat. It’ll all be okay after that.” And he groans, great beast that he is, rumbling through the modulator and rolling the curve of the helmet over your shoulder. You press the tips of your fingers into the thick slats of muscles along his spine, feel him jerk at a particularly sore spot, and then melt once you begin to soothe the hurt away gently. His bones seem to sag into you, the entire tremendous weight of him pressing you into the blankets until you feel like you can barely breathe. He’s a huge mass of sweltering, sweaty man, worked into exhaustion.

To say that it had been difficult convincing him you’d be fine left on the Crest so that he could go out and hunt the bounty you’d come to Yavin 4 to retrieve, would be putting it lightly. First, he’d said you’d be coming with him, and you’d watched, patient and silent, as he’d worked himself into a knot, pacing back and forth, muttering to himself as he talked himself in and out of bringing you along several times over before he’d landed on the decision that no, you could absolutely not come out on a hunt with him – too dangerous. And so, okay, sure, whatever you say, Din. Now come sit and have some soup, and he’d grumbled and huffed and puffed the entire time while you’d stroked all the bare skin you could get at, trussed up in the armor as he was, soothing him back into calm. But then he’d come up with the brilliant plan that you’d simply return to Nevarro, jumping up to pace once again, and he’d tell Karga that he’d be unable to acquire the remaining bounties, return the pucks, and wash his hands of the Guild entirely. That idea had lasted a total of thirty seconds before you’d helpfully pointed out that the two of you still needed credits to live, fuel for the ship, food and supplies. Somehow, it seemed the practical necessity of money had slipped his mind in the midst of his stress. However, eventually, in the gentlest and most placating voice you could muster, you’d bade him to come sit with you, and crouching at your feet while you perched on your stool, fingers pressed to the tee of his vizor you’d told him that you’d learned your lesson, you weren’t going to be caught unawares again, and that he couldn’t abandon his work and his Guild because of what happened. Something about the words had felt, not necessarily like a lie, but like a falsity. There was something frightened and aware within you now. And you didn’t want to examine it closely enough to categorize it for what it truly was yet, but you knew it was there, that it’d been woken and stirred to restlessness with the appearance of the Thalassians and all they’d had to tell you about the whispers of you circulating the Outer Rim.

And worst of all, you hadn’t told him anything of what they’d said. You hadn’t told him of the claim that there were rumors of the two of you, knowledge of what you are being passed between scheming mouths with cruel intentions. You didn’t want to worry him, you didn’t want to distract him from his work. The thought of him going out there to face unknown dangers while he left his mind here on the ship with you, worrying and fretting and not watching out for himself the way he needed to, with full attention – well, it just wasn’t a possibility. And anyways, you told yourself, liar, liar, liar, you could handle anything else that came your way. You could handle your own worry and your own fear and your own raging thoughts, what you could not handle, and this you knew with absolute certainty, was his worry and his fear. You needed him to be calm, focused, well and happy. Nothing else really mattered besides that, especially not you.

He pulls you forward, pulling your wrists to wrap around his neck, needy, needy Mandalorian, “I’m sorry. I’m just–” a gruff sound of frustration, “Just worried.” Sometimes you think he’s the one with the ability to read minds, not you. “I’m taking you somewhere,” he says into the crook, “Once we’re done with this one.”

We. Always a we now. There is such togetherness here and now, between the two of you,

“Where?” And it’s a funny thing, always existing in the dark with him now, and you hadn’t thought about it or looked at it closely enough up until someone else, someone bad, had stepped into this comforting darkness the two of you had settled into with each other, made you realize that that's what you’ve been doing, living in the dark again. But now it’s everywhere, glaring and demanding your attention, and you can’t understand how it is that you ended up here again, a different sort of dark, surely, but still the same thing constructed in an altered form, nonetheless. Or perhaps, how or why it is that you’ve pulled him, someone that burns like a flame on their own, into your shadow. And you’ve watched him, and you know him now, so surely it must be that a man such as he could never be pulled or taken or turned into anything he didn't choose for himself because watching him is like watching a man be a god, and for a girl who’d been told all her life she was a god herself while she sat in the place of slave, it is exciting and erotic and so many things. But it is also confusing.

And there are locked rooms inside of you: lust, grief, apathy. You would like to take a hammer to them all, but it seems that, perhaps, Din is the one taking that hammer to those doors and obliterating them for you. That help you’d always been so afraid of, he’s there to give it to you, and so the easy answer, the right answer, would seem to be for you to take that help… no? To accept what he gives you in whatever way he thinks is best because he only wants what is good for you, to help, to soften, to make things easier for you. To remove that interminable struggle you’ve found yourself in for so long, for your whole life.

Sometimes it feels like I haven’t been happy my whole life. But I know I feel it with you.

“It’s a surprise.” Another reminder of happiness.

It only takes him one more outing on Yavin 4, before he returns with the bounty slung over his broad shoulder. Grunts and curses as he wrestles with the heavy weight of it, stuffing it into the carbon freezer. His hair is getting too long, the rich curls peeking out beneath the lip of his helmet in the back, and the sight of them does something strange to you. A small thing like a vulnerability, a reminder that he’s only a man, only human beneath all of that beskar. That thing of fear that’s been roiling inside of you thumps and thumps and thumps, and you try and swallow it and push it down, kill it if you must, but it will not be silenced or settled. As he passes you on his way to the ladder you stop him with a small hand on his chest plate, small and seemingly insignificant in comparison to the great breadth of him – you’ve always liked that, the way that if no one knew you for what you really are, in comparison to his size and strength they’d never take you for the more dangerous one. There’s something comforting in that. You reach up to tuck the soft curls back beneath his helmet, you wish you could reach up to press a kiss to his mouth also. “Hair’s getting long,” you tell him instead. But again, he’d been distracted, worried, forgetting the small things he needed, forgetting to take care of himself. You can’t help the feeling of guilt this brings on, but then he’s gripping you around the waist and pulling you up towards himself, pressing the round of his helmet against your cheek, a hard metallic nuzzle, basically carrying you up the ladder to the cockpit with him, and you’re forced to abandon your guilt and worries for the moment.

After a maintenance stop in Mos Eisley on the planet of Tatooine, he takes you to the terrestrial ice planet of Maldo Kreis where he tells you he’d once crash landed and come upon, believe it or not, hot springs. Nestled deep into a system of caves that run below the surface of the planet, there live a collection of hot baths. He said that the caves weren’t entirely without their threats, but that if one was careful, the baths he’d found were enough of a desolate little pocket of space that he could relax without fear of discovery.

You’d told him that you loved water, and so he’d brought you to water he could share with you.

You watch the broad line of his shoulders as he lumbers through the icy snow, he’d wrapped you in all your layers and one of his thick capes over your own cloak so that he was sure you were as warm as possible during the short trek from the toasty interior of the Razor Crest to the cave he was familiar with. He pulls you along behind him, blaster in one hand, your fingers gripped tightly in the other, his tactical light swinging in a slow arc from side to side as the two of you make your careful progression through the dark, near silent caves. Nothing but your short, excited panting, the hollow crack of the all encompassing ice around the two of you, and his low murmurs to watch your step here and careful, cyare and step where I step; ever careful and ever cautious with you. And the cave, when he steps into the high domed cavern, the great echo of the drip, drip, dripping of the ice above melting in the rising steam, and the sight of the baths, like nothing you could have ever imagined. Nothing like the ones on Carosi XII you used to visit in your youth in the moments you found to sneak away. The bath is large, about six by ten meters in diameter and it glows. Suffused by some sort of bioluminescent light at the heart of its basin, some sort of unearthly blue light shining up from its core to alight the cavern and refract against the ice glittered walls. You stand there shocked for a moment, eyes slowly roving the large space, small and shivering and maybe even a little terrified, beside a man that on the surface would seem to the unknowing eye to be just as hard and just as frigid. “Do you like it, cyar’ika? Did I do well?” He asks you in a soft voice that holds something like boyish shyness, vulnerable uncertainty. You squeeze his arm tight, hugging it to your chest and squishing your cheek against the ice cold pauldron, burning the fine skin there.

“Oh, Din,” you look up at him with that thing you can’t say out loud, but that you’re so entirely full of for him, “It’s so beautiful – let’s get in please. Is it safe? Please, let’s get in.” He makes an indulgent noise in his throat, extracting his arm from your tight hold to wrap it around your shoulders and urge you forward gently.

“You get in. This is for you, little one.” And you want to argue, to say that it’s not the same without him, that it’s not worth it without him, but the water looks so lovely and warm and an azure so pure and crystalline it looks as though you’d be stepping into the heart of a diamond. He pulls his own cloak from around his shoulders and lays it on the snowy floor of the cave for you to stand on as he removes your clothes in quick, efficient movements, somehow keeping you wrapped in the layers of your own cloak and his extra cape he’d tucked you into so that you’re never entirely bared to the frigid air of the cave until he’s gently wrapping one large, gloved hand around your forearm, the other clasped at your waist to help you step into the warm bath. And that first moment of contact, submerging the tips of your toes in to your calves, knees, thighs, your hips and belly and finally your breasts, that first moment almost hurts, the shocking change from sharp cold to soothing heat burns, your skin going too tight stretched over your bones and then loose and relaxed, all strength seeming to seep from your muscles so that you’re sagging into the pool weakly with an airy moan. You float slowly out into the middle and then suddenly, remembering the most important part of the scene, you turn back to look at him, but he's still at the edge of the pool, slowly going to a crouch on his knees to watch you. He isn’t going to come in, and you try and swallow your disappointment, letting yourself sink down to the bottom, squeezing your eyes shut tightly so that all that remains is the blue glow of the pool’s luminescence. Your bare bottom settles at the base, the rocks hot against your skin, and wait there a moment, feeling as though your at the heart of a womb, nothing but a thought at the start of your life, and then pushing yourself back up, breaking the surface with a gasp, pushing the sluicing water out of your eyes, your lashes seeming to crackle and freeze at the contact with the frigid air once again. When you turn back to look at him with a wide smile, he’s slowly shaking his head at you, pissed off sound rumbling through the modulator at you staying below the surface for so long.

You let yourself sink down until only your eyes remain above water. Stretching your toes to skim the bottom of the warm rocks at the base of the pool, and you watch him watch you, that intensity of his, so powerful it spears his visor, suffuses your entire body, moving through your limbs like electricity and pooling at the tips of your fingers and toes. You know he can see the distorted shimmer of your naked body beneath the surface of the water, the tips of your breasts, the line of your belly down to the apex of your thighs, your hair floats away from you in ghostlike fingers, as if they were reaching towards him. You suck in a tiny bit of the slightly brackish water, hold it on your tongue, and when you let your mouth break the surface you spit it towards him in a crystalline arc. “The water’s so lovely. Come hold me,” you flirt at him. He’s crouched at the edge of the pool like some metallic sentinel, entirely still, frozen in time and space. You’ll remember him like this always, you think, silent and riveted only on you. That silence of his that sometimes says so much, echoes in your mind like a shout. The helmet cocks slowly to one side, entirely predatory, and if you hadn’t come to know him as well as you have, you’d worry for a moment that he’d seem entirely unaffected, but you can make out the tiight grip of his fingers around the cap of his bent knee. The restraint in the lines of his limbs he holds himself with, and the tips of your breasts go tight and aching at the display of want, subtle and silent as it is. The stillness and the silence, he uses it as a weapon when he likes, and sometimes they hold him in reserve, but other times, they tell you so much. “Please, come join me. I won’t look. I’ll be good,” you whisper, mouth just above the surface of the water, and slowly start to tread closer to him. “I promise.”

The hand over his knee tightens, and he makes a pained, frustrated sound, spit through the modulator. He looks around the cave again, visor slowly scanning the dark crevices and passageways, and you know he’s scanning once more for heat signatures. “Turn around,” he says quietly, vizor finally coming back to you. You obey silently, treading water to the far end of the pool, as far from him as you can go, giving him space and time and privacy to divest himself of the protections of his Creed. Protections he’s ridding himself of for you. You reach the stone ledge on the opposite side of the hot spring and rest there, arms crossed over the edge and chin propped on your folded wrists, and you close your eyes and listen to the sound of him giving himself to you, the disengaging of the magnetics that hold his armor together, the hollow drop of a pauldron, another, chest plate, vambraces, the thigh and shin guards. Then the heavier thud of his helmet, and the sound of his naked sigh, your heart drops into your stomach. You bring your face down into the cove of your folded arms, hiding away, heart racing as fast as a small, hunted creature. Your water warmed arms and neck are steaming in the frozen chill of the surrounding cave, but your lower half is enveloped in all of the sensual heat of the pool. The warring sensations shiver through you, up and down the length of your spine like electricity, the back of your neck prickling and breaking out into gooseflesh. Your entire frame trembles in anticipation, everything inside going tight and hot as a flash fire, and then loose and shaky, wet and molten. You hear the rustle of clothing, his softly pained grunt and sigh from what must be him bending to shuck his boots and pants, his back hurts, and then the splash of disturbed water and a different sort of groan, one of pleasure as he submerges his sore body in all the heat of the pool. You can’t help the almost silent answering whimper that claws its way up your throat, he calls to you so strongly always, that string from rib bone to spine that you’re terrified of being without one day. Terrified of the sort of lost you’ll become if it were to ever be severed. His movements go still suddenly, all sound seeming to cut off from one moment to the next, a pressurized sort of silence so immediately jarring that for a single second of panic you’re tempted to turn around to make sure he’s still there, but then: the whisper soft pressure of a single finger dragging straight down the line of your spine. His hand unfurling to spread entirely at the small of your back, pressing you hard against the stone wall of the pool. The facade is jagged, but warmed by the volcanic heat source deep within the core of the planet, and the incongruous sensations have you breathing out a whimpered moan. “Hi,” he presses a kiss to the ball of your shoulder, the top of his dark head flashes in your peripheral vision and you snap your eyes shut quickly, and then the press of his long, hot body all along your back. His chest, his groin and the already hard cock there, the rounds of his knees at the backs of yours. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you away with him, lets your bodies float out into the middle of the pool. The heat is more concentrated here, as if the pool possessed its very own beating heart, warming the rest of its body, and the two of you float there, quiet, with him wrapped around you like this, the soft press of his plush mouth every once in a while, and the deep hums and rumbly sounds of his relaxed contentment. You lay your head back on his shoulder and sit in the quiet risk of this with him, but everything is so well and so peaceful that you let your mind close away that worry and that fear and that door that’d been opened inside your mind, just for now. The galaxy is exceptionally still, here in this place with him.

“You’re happy,” he reads your mind all the time now and amongst all the risk that surrounds the two of you, nothing bests that. “I did good. You’re happy.”

“You’re perfect,” you say in return, turning your face into his throat, hiding yourself away in his skin.

“Tell me something else that makes you happy,” he says, and a furious flush of heat floods your face, you, you want to say, you make me happier than anything, a swift frantic throbbing starting up at your throat, wrists, the backs of your knees.

But you hold your tongue, think of another thing you’d once thought you couldn’t live without. “My blade, I think,” you say slowly. “I told you once that I, perhaps, should not have made another lightsaber.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know if I deserve it anymore. But… she’s beautiful and unique and comforting. And I wanted one. I wanted to be the bearer of a lightsaber, and so I forewent what I thought I should do, and did only what I wanted to at the time.”

“And now? Do you still think you don’t deserve it?” His voice is gentle and tentative, and you’re sure he knows these questions will only aggravate old wounds. But there is also a part of you that wants him to know anyway. Amongst all the things within you that you’d like to keep from him forever, there are others which you’d like him to understand about you, as well. Things no one else has ever or will ever know.

“Yes, maybe more than ever.”

An admonishing click of his tongue. You know there are certain things you believe about yourself that he doesn’t agree with, you can sense it within him, and it’s the greatest gift he constantly gives you, the benefit of his doubt. “What else do you want?”

You lift your head from its hiding place in his neck, chew on the thought, peek down at his bare arms wrapped around your middle. Something about seeing them so out in the open, water strewn, the soft dark hair covering the golden brown skin and sinewy muscle feels like breaking a rule. You hold your palm hovering just beneath the surface of the water, let the tips of your fingers break the glass-like edge, the glowing light that burns beneath the rockbase of the pool suffuses between them,“Absolution, perhaps.” You.

“From what?”

“Everything.”

“From who?” You have no answer for that – a moment of shocked speechlessness. The entire galaxy. Him, above all, him. “Because you aren’t going to get it from me,” voice grave and sad and serious, gentle, as if he’s telling a very young child a very big thing. “I have nothing to absolve you of, and so I cannot give it to you.” A lie he does not know is a lie.

I know, you breathe in the smallest voice you can. As if the quiet will prevent the words from going out into the world. Acknowledgement breathes life into a thing, and you do not, cannot, acknowledge this truth. That you have started to fear that even if he knew the truth of it all, that it would still not satiate your guilt, silence it. That, most terrifying of terrifying truths, you fear you are the only one who can give that to yourself. You wish, very badly indeed, that you had the courage to tell him the whole of it, every bad or terrible thing, the worst thing, that you could be yourself entirely. You want to ask him how he finds the courage to be so brave and so mighty all the time? You would like to say: This is me at my best. I am asking you to endure it. I know it is selfish, but it’s what I’d like anyway.

The sight of the heavy end of the Thalassian’s stick hurtling towards you flashes in your mind, the sound of your bone crunching beneath the weight. Years and years of beatings and darkness and horror. You shut your eyes to it, focus on the sound of his breaths, the drip of water, the luminescence of the pool’s hot stones glowing through the thin membrane of your eyelids, the electric blue seeping into your corneas.

“What are you afraid of?” You ask instead. You suspect that the answer to your own courage does not necessarily lie with him, and so you alter the framing, cast it in a more revealing light. “What sorts of things worry you?”

He thinks on it for a moment, lets his arms slip from around you to tread water, and then stillness, the sound of him cupping little pools in his palms and letting them trickle back into the bath. “I’m getting older. I worry about the day I realize I’m weaker, slower. What that’ll do to me, what it’ll feel like – to realize the tool… weapon, I’ve relied on for so long is failing me, my own body.”

“You’re not that old,” you laugh lightly, “Only the disposition of an old man.” He bumps his spine into yours, turned to face away from you now.

“Brat.” You love this game of questions. Your favorite of all the games you play together.

“If you can look into my mind,” he says slowly, “Could you also erase my memories?” Your stomach churns with the change in direction.

“Perhaps. I… I’m not sure – I’ve never tried to do that.” You hum in nervous consideration, “I could rework them, maybe, change them. But it would be difficult to pick and choose without running the risk of wiping a mind completely, I would think.”

“Yeah… I guess that makes sense.” He’s quiet for a moment, and you listen to the rustle of the water, the lapping of his movement slicking up against your naked back. “What am I thinking about right now?” He asks suddenly, and a flush of angry heat sizzles across your face.

“Don’t ask me those things. It’s not a game, Din.” A hypocrite in your own mind.

Another silent pause, and you can hear a smile in his voice that forces your annoyance away. “Play with me anyways,” and he bumps his back into yours again, then turns to pull you to his chest once more, drags you slowly bobbing through the water to the far end of the pool to rest on the ledge there.

The two of you sit there back to back, and you wrap your arms around your bent knees, resting your chin against the dome of your joint and close your eyes. All of these games… But you let the Force wrap around the both of you slowly, a bubble made entirely of yourself, let it slink around him, snake up his ankle to his knee. Another up the curve of his back and over the hill of his shoulder, up the column of his neck and over his face, your power licking and tasting as it goes, feeding off of him. You listen to him gasp and can’t help but smile a little. You feel him everywhere, always, you wish – hope, he feels you like this always too. And then in, gentle as possible, like piercing the thin, delicate membrane of a piece of fruit skin, a transparent membrane, and it’s like you’re running your fingers over the contours of his present thought, held just there, tasting it off the tip of his tongue: it’s you. He’s thinking of you, and the sight of yourself within the space of his mind is jarring like a snapping bone, ragged edges of white ivory, blood red marrow. You want to jerk away immediately at the sight of yourself, but you pause, take in the sight of yourself asleep earlier on the Crest. He’d woken before you, and you’re naked and vulnerable, cheek smushed against your folded hands, hair a bedraggled mess. He drags the pad of his thumb over the swell of your breast, feels the smoothness of your skin, leans forward and crowns a fading bruise along the slope of your shoulder with a kiss by the same mouth that had placed it there earlier. You can almost taste the scent of yourself on his tongue, and you smell like him, like you belong to him. The thought that you do, that you’re his follows, charges in on the tail end of your mingled scent. Ownership so pure, so intrinsic over another being should seem wrong, no? But it’s merely fact here, as he looks upon you. And he lo–

You pull yourself back, blinking away furious, overwhelmed, distraught tears. Tears of exaltation and such grief. This is how he sees me, you think. I am beautiful and good in his eyes. Perhaps, the greatest lie you’ve ever made him believe.

The Thalassian crone’s voice cracks in your mind, worth nothing more than an invisible and illusory thing, The Force. He doesn’t see it yet, he still believes in the game, but fate is about to best the both of you, you’re certain of it. And you feel so fucking angry at the thought, at the reminder and memory. So frustrated that they’d found you, that they’d pierced the bubble of happiness the two of you had secluded yourselves in these past weeks together, that you were letting them disrupt it. That you couldn’t let go of the past.

“What do you see, cyar’ika?” His voice is gentler than the water.

“Me.” Your tears salt the pool.

“That’s you,” he whispers, reaches back to grasp your hip. And you want to argue, to make him see the fallacy for what it is, but it’s such a lovely lie. You can’t bring yourself to ruin the dream. A sob breaks in your throat, spills out, and he turns in the water, hugs your back to himself. His face is right there, so close, out in the open. You can almost touch the dream. “Don’t cry, little one. I’m right here.”

“I’m sorry–” you gasp, press a hand over your mouth, swallow the horrible outpour back down.

“I’ve never resented my Creed more than I do right now.” He says it through clenched teeth, as if he knows he shouldn’t. “Not being able to look at your face, not being able to have you see me, to kiss you – I want to kiss you so badly.” Your heart drops down into your stomach.

“Don’t. Don’t – you can’t. You don’t want that.”

He’s silent for a moment, stiff, and then slowly: “Why not?”

How to be honest without splitting yourself open? “You can’t give that to me, Din. I don’t– I don’t deserve it,” your voice ends on a shamed whisper. The idea of him trusting you with that last, most important thing, the sight of his face. It could never happen. Never.

“So many things you think you don’t deserve… It’s my choice, isn’t it?”

“It would be the wrong choice.”

“I’ve never done it, you know? No one has seen my face since I was a boy. The night you told me we ran the risk of you seeing me in my memory– sometimes I feel like I can’t even remember it myself. Like that isn’t even a possibility because the memory doesn’t exist. Like the face I occasionally glance at in the mirror isn’t actually me.” You could understand this so well, the phenomena of being wholly unrecognizable to yourself, and it was moments like these, when he said something that reminded you so entirely of yourself, that showed you how alike the two of you were in certain ways, that frightened you more than anything. That brought that keen sense of knowing into awareness. That made you awake to that thing you felt for him that you could not yet name or acknowledge. Acknowledging a thing brought it to life, after all. He presses another kiss over the bruise, intensifies it further with a pull of his mouth. “I never want anyone to know something about me that you don’t know. If I were ever to give it to anyone, it’d be to you.” As if he’s the one who possesses the power to read minds, not you, and you're pressing your hand over your eyes and turning in his embrace, blindly, madly shoving your face towards his and stumbling for his mouth. He grasps you around the waist, another hand to your jaw, squeezing so tight your bones feel set to burst, and with a snarl, he kisses you. Blindly, madly, like everything else this thing between the two of you has been, so full of risk. Your name in his mouth is a savage thing full of sharp teeth and want and violence, and you breathe a warbled moan into him as he pulls you further onto his lap so that you’re straddling him, aching cunt nestled against his hardness. “I never want anyone to know something about me that you don’t know,” he breathes again, licks the words onto the surface of your tongue, and you’re sure he’s trying to break you, to leave an imprint, a brand, a burn inside of you in the shape of him. Something that hurts worse than anything else ever has. It’s unfair, it is almost a cruelty, for Din– Din does not always know how a thing will end as you do. He’s absolved of such a curse, and so he must not suffer the certainty in which you’re sure there will come a time when there is a whole life of things about him which you’ll not bear witness to. It makes you cry harder, it makes you want to scream and rage and draw blood, to drink him down so that you might keep him forever. Please, please, let me keep him, let me keep him. You sob into his mouth, pull at his hair so hard he whimpers, subdues you with sharp teeth and pinching fingers.

What is it? What is it, cyare? Tell me, and I’ll fix it for you. I cannot overcome your anguish. Your eyes are filled with darkness again, and I wish you wouldn’t cry. I know everything, and I’m still here.

You bury your face in his neck, mouth at the warm, damp salt of his skin, try and control your anguish. He doesn’t deserve these hysterics. He doesn’t deserve this. So many lies he doesn’t know you’ve embroiled him in, and you feel unfixable, like you’ll always disappoint him, like it’s inevitable. The Thalassians had been a savage reminder of this. Finally, the hiccuping cries settle, the ricocheting stone in your chest resting, and you prop your chin on his shoulder to look out at the dim surrounding cave. Steam rises off the surface of the warm pool, and the yawning mouths of the branching tributaries are pitch black holes descending into absolute darkness. You wonder, first, what it would be like to become lost in that maze of pure dark, you remember, second, that you already have been.

“I haven’t been to a hot spring since before,” you murmur, unseeing, feel the ruffle of his overlong curls tickle your damp cheek. “I used to steal away to the ones on Carosi XII sometimes. I loved it–”

“Before…” He smoothes a large, rough paw up the sensitive line of your spine. Calluses catching at your skin, scraping and inciting. Drawing back down in a swoop to press at your tailbone, nestling his throbbing erection more snuggly between the lips of your sex.

“My escape.” Quietly, as if speaking of it too loudly will undo the entire thing.

“Ah.”

“It was so dark for so long,” you confess, voice full of air and ghosts.

Both arms wrapped around your back now, he presses you tight as possible to himself, squeezes all the air and memories of the past out of your lungs. “What did it cost you? The dark, your freedom?” You wish he wouldn’t ask such things, you also want to tell him anyway.

“Hard to define. My soul, I think. But I’m getting it back.” A soft hum, one that understands. “Have you ever felt like that… like you’d lost your soul?”

“Once or twice, maybe.” A bite to the line of muscle connecting your neck and shoulder, a slick slide of your hips ending in a jolt of pleasure. “A soul is a finicky thing to keep hold of constantly. Don’t you think?” You’ll never be happy anywhere else besides right here with him. Of this you’re absolutely certain.

“Undoubtedly. Slippery little fuckers – souls,” and his laughter is always such a gift, almost a benediction. You wrap your hand around his throat to feel the humming joy of it there, and it pulls your own from your heart, matches his happiness in the way he deserves. He deserves to have his joy reciprocated. To be with someone capable of such unadulterated happiness, that can give it to him and return it to him and amplify it ten fold. An illusory sort of thing… and Din, Din, Din deserves more than a non entity, more than something non existent. Your Mandalorian deserves so many things. You never thought it would be like this when the two of you first started this, that it would require so many things of you you’re not sure you can give. You press a soft kiss to the shell of his ear, eyes closed and safe, fingers twined through the damp curls at the back of his head. You wonder if they flop down over his forehead, if they’re laying slicked and soaking wet, pasted against his skin. You wonder what color his eyes are – dark, you think, dark and warm and rich like his hair. His scruff is grown out too, beard scratchy and a little scraggly. It leaves burns and raw marks on your skin that you press at when he’s away, not looking. The reminder of his mouth at your cunt and breasts. Another kiss to the rounding of bone behind his ear, the scrape of teeth over his jugular, the flavor of his collarbone. An entire sun inside the heart of a single man, and you wonder what that makes you. The dark sky that consumes him, perhaps? That steals the light?

“What does your Creed cost you?”

“Everything,” he says, and your name shouts at you from his mind. The two of you are so alike in so many unknown ways again and again and again. And so many things frighten you, terrify you. You feel afraid of everything and weak and half made, only half a girl, half a creature. You don’t want him to be anything like you. You want him to be only himself full of all the greatness and goodness he possesses.

He slides his palm between your thighs, rough fingers whispering and teasing, and then he’s pulling your hips back and notching the wide head at your entrance, wedging that thick cock inside of you, in, in, in, bumping at the mouth of your womb. No preamble, no warning, only claiming. You lay your head on his shoulder, so strong and broad, and watch your tears slide over the hill and down the valley of his back; your moan is ragged as you take him within you, and he burns inside of you like a fever. Or not like a fever, like a second heart, and there’s no reason to cry, you want to tell yourself, console yourself. He’s here, he’s as close to you as he can possibly be. And you’re happy, you are, but you are also aware. You are also yourself. You also know so many things about yourself and fate and destiny that he does not.

“F–feel so– so fucking good, cyare.” You wrap both arms more tightly around his neck, bury your teeth in his skin, and he grips your ass with one hand, the other wrapped around your breast and pulls you harder onto his cock. “Always.”

“Din,” you whimper, clit grinding against the bone of his pelvis, little toes curling in pleasure as you moan for him.

“Yeah? Like that?” You feel him spread his knees wider beneath you, deepening the angle, and you brace your feel on the stone ledge behind him to leverage yourself better on his lap, ride him. “Fuck, yeah – just like that.” He wraps a fist in your hair, “Close your eyes. Let me see you – need to look at your face,” and he tugs your head back, chin tipped to the ceiling of the cave, throat bared, mouth hanging open.

“Din, no– wait,” he takes too many risks. “You’re being careless–”

“Am I? I don’t give a fuck,” he grits. “I have to look at you, I have to. You can’t say no to me, you can’t tell me no.” He fucks up into you quicker, hitting that spine melting spot inside of you. “No one fucks this cunt like I do. No one,” he growls.

No one, no one, no one. I have to look at you.

“Din, please–” you beg for something unknown.

And he tells you that he knows and understands while he drags his fingers through your wet hair. “I know it’s so much,” and he pushes his hips up again, your cunt letting him in that little bit further, opening and blooming for him. He is changing – a changing sort of man. A phenomena of nature. He is changing you into something different. You can feel it like this hunger that cuts you in two. You fold yourself into the dream that soon your past self will be lost to you entirely if the two of you continue like this, but what worries you is that you are, in turn, changing him, as well. And you aren’t certain that whatever change wrought upon him by yourself would be something good, something that wouldn’t be damaging.

But you… the sun could only ever change a dark thing for the better. And it was true that together you could do such incredible things, but you would not let yourself be destructive with him. You would not let yourself destroy him. “I’m not going to open my eyes,” you tell him. “I’m not going to open my eyes.”

And he begs: “Please,” but he does not say that which he’s begging for, and you won’t ask. He bends his head and pulls on the tip of your breast, sucks as much of the heavy weight of it as he can into his mouth, you’re so beautiful, he murmurs, fingertips gripping your bottom, slithering down to pet at the place where your cunt is stretched swollen around the thick root of him, wedges his fingers on either side to feel where he enters you. You rest your cheek on the crown of his head, wrapping your arms around him so that his face is buried in your breasts. The feel of his cock throbbing and swelling within you is maddening, and you’ve done this more times than you can count now, yet each time feels like there won’t be enough room within you to take him, that he’ll cleave you in two, cunt stretched to obscenity, to almost pain. The whole sun inside of a man like a god, inside of a girl who only ever wanted to be a god and failed. The whole sun illuminating the darkness into flame, and your cunt begins to pulse and flutter around him, pleasure like agony surging up your spine in electric sparks and pooling in your pelvis, tightening around him to rouse his own orgasm to spill forth and coat you from the inside. He groans savage and wanton and yours into the deep crevice of your breasts, you feel his tongue licking into the space between, tasting and branding, and you wrap around him like vines.

Perhaps… one single moment of truth now.

You realize you’ve never loved anything before in your entire life. You’ve never had anything to love. Din is the first. The memory of your parents, always too weak, too far removed to have ever been anything more than an acute yearning, but him, he is here, he is alive, he is with you, and you love him.

And Din deserves so many things, but he does not deserve this. He does not deserve such a fate, such a damnation – the love of a creature such as you, a thing you’d not wish on your worst enemy. After all, it’s an impossible thing to swallow an entire sun, it’s an impossible thing to abscond entirely from the darkness. I’m sorry, you whisper as he stills within you, and he presses you so tight, as if he could squeeze out the very seed of wrongness that still lives within you.

You love him, and they will always come for you. As long as you’re alive, as long as the dark exists, as long as The Force exists they will always come for you. And one day they’ll go through him to get to you. Like some sort of grotesque chant in your mind, endlessly, without mercy, this is the only truth that remains.

I’m sorry, you say again and again and again.

“Cyare, I can’t help you if you won’t tell me what it is.”

And a lie to comfort can surely not be such a bad thing, if done with the right intention. Surely, it cannot be such a terrible thing. “It’s only that I’m so happy,” and you know, as soon as the words leave your mouth, that he won’t believe you, but he says nothing anyways, and it only makes you feel worse, for you know that his reticence only comes by way of his own fear. He's scared for you, scared of you, of the fact that he can feel that roiling shift within you, between you, and hasn’t yet managed to solve the riddle of it, of you. You realize that here and now, he’s scared of you. And the truth of it sears you, makes you feel worse than anything the Thalassians could have ever done to you, but this is the true mark, this is the scar forming, invisible above the injury. This is the true consequence, the worry and the apprehension and the seed of fear they’d planted between the both of you.

“I believe in you above everything else,” you tell him in lieu of all the rest, in lieu of your love.

He’s silent for a moment, the sound of his swallowed fear, “Why does it feel…sometimes, like all you’re doing is saying goodbye to me?”

Like a lancet through the throat, like dying, something worse than the darkside, but somehow, your voice is measured and even when you tell him, “I don’t think, even if the worst happened, that I’d ever really be able to say goodbye to you.”

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drewharrisonwriter · 8 months

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On the Mend - Ch 1: Not Today

No Outbreak Joel Miller x Female Reader

Read this on AO3 | Masterlist

Summary: You were having a really, really bad day in the midst of the scorching Austin summer, and seeing your ex boyfriend, Joel Miller, is the last thing you need.

Word count: 829

A/N: (EDIT 09/17/2023) Okay so I heard ya'll! LMAO and decided to turn this into a mini-series. Not sure exactly how things will play out for these two, but I've written a part 2 and decided to call this mini-series On the Mend. LOL hope you like it. This is a one-shot for now, not sure if and how to continue this. I just got this idea recently and wanted to write it.

The merciless sun bore down as she parked her car. The Austin summer had been relentless, and today, it seemed as if even the universe was conspiring against her.

It had been a thoroughly miserable day. Work had been a disaster; she'd spent hours redoing half of a project her co-worker had botched because she was still hungover from the previous night.

The Texas summer heat, relentless and unforgiving, only added to her misery. As if fate had a personal grudge against her, she realized she'd left her house keys on her office desk when she was already halfway home.

She sighed in defeat and turned her car around to retrieve them. All of this was compounded by her lingering morning sickness, a term she found deceptive as it had resurfaced with a vengeance upon entering her third trimester. She had naively believed she had bid it farewell for good when she'd crossed into the second trimester.

"Whoever called it morning sickness should be shot for lying," she grumbled, attempting to quell the rising nausea that threatened to surface.

Dressed in biker shorts and an oversized t-shirt she kept in her car for emergencies, she got out and beelined to the frozen aisle for a popsicle stick and savored the brief respite offered by the melting ice cold treat.

She sighed in relief and grabbed a pushcart. Her only mission in the store was to grab some Oreos, pickles, and frozen pizza to satisfy her cravings that were so intense, she literally cried in the car on her way over.

As she rounded a corner in the store, she was suddenly face to face with the last person she wanted to see: Joel Miller.

Great. She thought to herself. Couldn't have been on a better day.

Ah, Joel fucking Miller.

The man who had once been the love of her life.

The same man who had taken her on the most memorable first date she'd ever experienced, and had filled the past five years of her life with the kind of joy she'd never known before.

But this was also the man who made it clear to her months ago, after five whole years of being together and living together for three, that he has no plans of marrying her and having a family with her.

She and Joel were arguing at the time when he said it.

In the midst of their emotional clash, she couldn't help but speak her mind, her frustration boiling over.

"Joel," she began, her voice trembling with pent-up feelings, "if you get mad at every damn little thing, what's going to happen if we were married? That's not the life I want, and it's not the husband I need."

Joel's eyes flashed with anger as he retorted, "Of course it’s not! And who told you I was going to marry you?" His words cut like a knife, and she felt her heart shatter into pieces.

"We never talked about it, what put the idea into your head?" he continued, his tone harsh and unyielding.

Her jaw went slack in shock, as tears welled up in her eyes as she choked back her emotions.

"But I thought we--," she whispered, her voice barely audible, she couldn't even continue her thoughts when Joel cut her off.

"No." He barked. "You knew from the start that Sarah is my priority. Always was and always will be. I'm not going through the whole marriage thing again." And have our hearts broken all over again when you realize that we're not what you want, he wanted to add. But instead he allowed the silence to linger.

Silent tears slipped from her eyes but she did not respond.

Instead she stood up and went into the closet and started packing. So be it, she told herself as she zipped the last of her bags before going into the bathroom to hastily shove her toiletries into another bag.

She stopped when she pulled one of the lower drawers open. The positive pregnancy test sticks under her box of tampons glared at her, and for a brief moment she contemplated telling Joel. But when she heard the front door slam shut, she pulled herself together and shoved the sticks in the bag as well.

That was seven months ago and she hasn't seen nor heard from Joel since.

Their eyes met for a moment before his gaze fell upon her very round baby bump. Acting on instinct, she hastily placed her handbag in the shopping cart, a futile attempt to hide it from him, though it didn't do much given the fact that she looked like she had tucked an entire watermelon under her shirt.

She grimaced, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. When she locked eyes with him once more, she began walking backwards, her eyes not leaving him and before he could say anything, she had rounded the corner and all he heard was, “Nope. Not today!”

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juvenillia · 6 months

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~ tangled series~ part 1

John 'Soap' MacTavish x fem!reader x Simon 'Ghost' Riley

summary: Johnny needs release, when he got denied from his usual partner he searches out for someone new. A casual ons, but he found something different and things become...complicated.

a/n: Had a spontanous idea and that is the product of it. Let me know what you think. [I don't have much experience writing so smut so I'm thankful for every criticism]

cw/tw: suggestive content, pure smut , bi!Soap, Ghoap, flirting, petnames, piv, unprotected sex, fingering, drinking, open relationship/situationship

worcount: 2.4k

》Masterlist《》 Read on AO3 《》Master Post《

„Are ya so desperate? “Kyle laughed out, gulping on his beer while eyeing the frustrated face of the Scot.

“Dinnea yer’ve needs?” he exhaled while sipping halfhearted on his whiskey.

“Looks like not as strong as yours.” He smiled and bit back the smug grin. Trying to show a bit more empathy. They had a few days off, still deployed at the end of the world in a small town, before heading back to base. Some days to rest and blow off some steam. John and Simon mostly stayed in the hotel, just relaxing, and catching up to some sleep. Sometimes all of them would head out, but this time both were more reserved. Johnny visited the same bar for the second day now, just to find a cute girl to get laid. He was already needy, but after such a mission, he needed to get some things out of his system. But somehow his charisma didn’t seem to work. So, Kyle agreed to play wingman for him, but just now another local beauty ditched him.

“I think ‘m gonna explode by the end of the night.” Johnny sunk into the seat, legs fully stretched out under the table.

“Why don’t ya just visit Lt again?” Kyle suggested with a smug grin and Johnny shrugged.

“’s complicated right now…”

“And still, he’s fine with you searching for a woman?” Johnny nodded while pushing the edge of his glass against his lips. “Really don’t get ya two.” Kyle exhaled while patting the shoulder of his teammate. “Okay, the next woman walking through that door…” He pointed at the entry. “…will be your company for the night.” Johnny rolled with his eyes, but still those were pinned on the wooden door.

“Bad cop, good cop.” Kyle stated while walking over to the already crowded bar before Johnny could even say something.

It only took mere minutes before it opened again, and Kyle immediately clapped in his hands. Johnny even raised his brows at the sight in front of him.

You just made your way up to the bar, all alone, in nothing more than a sweet summer dress hugging your curves just perfectly, hair still dump from the late-night swim in the ocean next to the bar. Prettier than every woman Johnny had witnessed through the whole days. To be honest, he couldn’t remember seeing such a pretty thing in a very long time. The sheer thought of you and him made his pants grew a bit tighter.

“Wait…” His words met deaf ears as Kyle already bumped into you and spilled his beer all over you. Making your dress clung to your chest even more than before.

“Woah can’t ya be damn careful.” He fake-drunken cried out, while steading himself next to you at the bar. You literally glared at him.

“Excuse me?!”

“Spilled…my bloody beer all over those...” He let his hands hover over your breasts, and you had the urge to slap him right into his face. Just then he got shoved away. “Damn, pal…” Kyle cried out while Johnny stood between him and you. You raised a brow at the scenery.

“Fuck off and leave the lass alone.”

“Who do ya think ya…” Kyle couldn’t complete his sentence as Johnny pushed him forcefully back once more and he trailed away.

Now the Scot faced you with a nearly shy smile. “Yer alright?” His voice was deep but still soft. A small smile appearing on your lips, and you nodded.

“Kinda used to something like this.” You exhaled while taking a napkin he handed you. Carefully taping it over your cleavage and Johnny couldn’t help but stare.

He had to shake his mind clear before speaking again. “Then I owe yer an apology in the name of all those blaigeards. Let me buy yer a drink.” [bastards] He smiled, and you rose a brow at him at the accent, but you didn’t push it any further. Just from the corner of his eyes he could see a simple thumbs up from Gaz before the Brit left the bar himself, leaving you to it.

“Why not.” You extended your hand, and he took it and placed a quick peck onto the back of your hand.

Eventually that’s the reason you found yourself in a hotel elevator, pressed against the wooden wall, straddling the man as he pushed his tongue past your lips. His hands roaming all over your body and staying firmly at your thighs, while pushing you up against the wall even more. Your hands took grip of the strains of hair while your kisses grew more heated. Both of your heads empty and light. Just the little ring of the elevator announcing your arrival of the destinated floor let you part for mere seconds.

“I’m Johnny.” He beamed at you and mirrored his smile. You told him your common nickname and he repeated it sweetly before ordering you your preferred drink.

You spent some more time talking and drinking when he once in while placed his calloused hand not so decently on your thigh or on top of your hand. Always keeping eye contact that nearly made you get lost in it. But you couldn’t care, as you enjoyed his company a bit too much.

He didn’t let go of your hand while dragging you after him. He just stopped in front of his door to place a deep kiss onto your lips. He stroked a loose strain of hair behind your ear. “So damn beautiful.” He then pushed the door open and lifted you up with ease. Your legs wrapping around his torso as he carried you in, kicking the door shut before throwing you on the bed. He didn’t even waste another second and yanked his shirt over his head away before crawling on bed to you. The sight of him made you grin, while you felt the heat between your legs rise.

“Come here,” you demanded with a smug smile, and he gladly obeyed, placing himself on top of you before his mouth crashed down on yours again. More passionate and wet than before. Your hands found his nape to pull him closer into you while you kept his pace. His hands wandering down your body, slowly lifting the hem of your dress and slipping beneath. His palm found your nearly bare ass, only covered in such a small piece of fabric and he let out a deep groan. His voice sent shivers down your spine as you slowly parted your legs to feel more of him and you did. You could intensely feel his hardened member grinding over your still clothed crotch, and it let fall some delicate moans out of your mouth. Just before he started kissing you again.

He planted kiss after kiss down your jawline to your neck. Biting on your soft flesh as another moan brushed over your lips and you tried to muffle it. “Dinnea hold back, bonnie. Let me hear yer.” His breath against your skin was such an added sensation when his hand wandered from your ass to your front. Rubbing lazy circles over your still clothed cunt. He slowly sat back, pushing your dress just above your hips to gain him better access. He let his fingers push past your panties while a finger run through your slit. “Hmm, already so fuckin’ wet. Only for me,” he chimed while his other hand wandered to the tent in his pants. Rubbing above the fabric of his trousers while his other hand started to explore your sensitive regions. Earning him another row of moans. Just when he pushed two digits inside of you, you arched your back at the sudden sensation.

“More.”, you only begged as he curled them inside you, and he groaned at your demand.

“Fuck, bonnie,” he said while biting his lower lip. His hands were pinned on you, staring in your already lust drunken face. Usually, he would take his time with his hook up. Making his partner for the night completely cock drunk before even pushing him inside of them, letting them cum on his mouth, then his fingers until they were a brabbling mess, but he couldn’t hold himself back. Not when you were so delicate placed for him, and his cock was already throbbing and twitching at all the sweet sounds you gave him. He needed you right now. No time for any regrets or second thoughts. “Yer look so fuckin’ good beneath me,” he said while unbuckling his belt and the sight in front of you gave you weak knees. Johnny was an average man, but still so handsome. As he took the time to free himself from the last clothes you did the same with your dress. Leaving you only in your panties.

He moved down to plant some more kisses along your stomach before tearing your soaked panties down with his mouth, mind already completely feral as he got a taste of you. “Spread them legs wider for me lass,” he said while squeezing your thighs and placing him between them. His hand sloppy stroking his hard member a few times, smearing precum over his length. His eyes find yours again. “Tell me, when something feels wrong,” he said with a smug smile while lining himself up with your entry and pushing slowly in.

“Fuck, Johnny,” you cried out while arching your back. He shamelessly pushed deeper and deeper until bottomed out. Grunts left his throat, while his hands took grip of your hips to keep you in place as he began to thrust into you in an unforgivable pace.

“Takin’ me so damn well. Tell me how it feels,” he demanded while his hips slam against your body. One of his hands finding your leg to drab it over his shoulder, gaining him better and deeper access and it made you cry out. Tears of pure joy running down your cheeks as your hands cling onto the sheets.

“Doin’ so good pup. Keep going’, darlin’ “ You cried out while your back arched even more.

“Steamin’ jesus…” The petnames completely sending him into abyss. He could feel how your walls clenched around him and all that made it hard for him. Hard to contain himself as he was balls deep inside you. And you could feel how close he was, how sloppy his movements grew. You reached out to his neck to pull him down with you. Taking grip of his neck while his cock kept pushing against that sweet spongy spot inside of you. Tears started to roll down your face again and you could feel the tingle inside of you grow.

God, you were close, non-stop clenching around his hard member. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, biting on your neck, trying to hold him back a bite more. “I want ya cum inside…ya hear me pup.” Your tone was so different to earlier. So, demanding and he could do nothing than obey. His thrusts grew harder, as your fingers claw on his back. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t care, not when you felt so perfectly made for him. Your tight cunt soaking him in while he chased his release.

Just with some more thrusts he completely spilled his seed inside of you. “Christ yes,” you cried out while your hips bucked forward to meet his and you could feel his orgasm triggering your own. You panted while he placed kiss after kiss onto your exposed skin, and you kept him tight to you.

“Did so good for me, lass.” He gently said while cleaning you up. He definitely didn’t want to let go of you. Besides some experimental experiences with Ghost, this was by far the best sex he had, and he would totally annoy the shit out of Gaz and his Lieutenant about it. After cleaning everything up, pulling some underwear on you both, he gave you an olive shirt of his. It was a usual military one and it made you giggle the slightest. Even more when he pulled you onto his chest. “Stay,” he plead while placing a kiss onto the crown of your head. You pulled him down to you for another deep and passionate kiss. If Johnny only knew it would’ve been the last time, he would feel your lips onto him. For now…

He woke up early in the morning just to find out that you were already gone. No note, no number. Nothing was left, only a sheer memory and a frustration settled in his guts. Right now, the thought of him being nothing more than a one night stand made him feel utilized. Usually nothing was wrong about it because that’s how those things worked out. But you awakened something in him that made him want more. It felt so different to anything he had experienced before. But sadly, he didn’t know much more than your nickname, and the way you felt around him when pleasure took the best of both of you.

Weeks passed and he could finally sort things out with Simon, as their situationship grew to something more constant. Still, he couldn’t forget about that one night that still left him breathless. A night he got off to so many times when alone in his room. Always wondering what your favorite color might be, or which music you preferred on long roads. If you were a morning or an evening person. If you preferred dogs over cats. There were so many things he wanted to know about you. It kind of made him feel empty. He found solace in your fateful meeting, as much as he found peace next to Ghost. And even when sleeping curled up against Simon, he couldn’t forget the feeling of you tugged up his chest in his shirt. If he only knew what he got himself into…

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