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residenthughes · 1 year

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once bitten, twice shy

pairing: leon kennedy x gender neutral reader

word count: 3.8k (yippee!)

tags/warnings: college/university au, fluff, mentions of vomit/sick and alcohol

summary: house parties can be a strange place. they can be even stranger when you're about to throw up and have to argue to use the bathroom with a certain blue eyed, blonde haired boy too.

notes: my baby! so glad to have finished this! <3 i started writing this pretty much after my last fic (which received so much love, thank you so so much 💗) and finally came together after i went out myself, hehe. have deadlines/exams coming up soon so i'm not particularly sure how much i'll be posting on here until mid june, so mayhaps consider this a gift for not posting then? 🥹 haha, love u all and hope u enjoy!

You enjoyed a good night out once in a while. Your friends and yourself dressed to the nines as you dance the night away with liquor tainted lips and all the freedom in the palm of your hand. It was a great escape from the pressures of endless coursework and constant group meetings. You enjoyed a good house party, too. However, you hadn’t had much luck with those ones. Despite the smaller crowd it drew, the handful of new faces had you anxiously gulping away at your alcohol, ultimately leading to cringe-worthy videos your friends would show you the next day. Based on this, you should have known better - should have politely declined when your friends suggested attending her classmates’ house party and spent the night maybe regretting it. In spite of the myriad of reasons, the past week had been dreadful beyond words and it was an opportunity to wear your latest going out outfit. It was near impossible to say no.

So, here you are. Having the time of your life with friends, dancing under blue flickering lights and letting the night take you away. Well - that’s what you were doing. What you are doing now is desperately trying to find the toilet - your stomach was already uneasy due to the nerves of meeting new people at the party, so you’re sure the sugary drinks added to the alcohol in your system didn’t help either. You felt queasy and an urgent need to relieve yourself, still to no avail. The downstairs bathroom was occupied, so with the sickly feeling travelling up your system, you barge through the mob of people littering the hallways, hand over your mouth in a futile attempt to keep whatever was coming up down.

At the end of the upstairs hallway, your friend’s classmate explained there was an additional bathroom. You’ve never been more relieved to see anything more in your life. Without knowing it, you’re making a mad dash for it, bumping shoulders and mumbling a thousand sorrys. You’re a sight for sore eyes, you know you are, but with the pressing urge to not have witnesses to your untimely projectile vomiting, you really couldn’t give a damn.

You’re so happy to have found the bathroom, even if it may have also been occupied that your eyes miss another figure aiming for the room too. It’s only when your hand reaches for the doorknob that it’s shielded by another hand. Large and comforting. Your eyes search for the source.

Amidst the darkness that permeates the hallways, the blue mood lights provide glimpses into the mystery of the shadowy figure with gentle hands. His face, ivory in colour, is all slopes, features sharp and striking. His cerulean blue eyes framed by the length of his long eyelashes and dirty blond hair makes your heart stutter messily in your chest. For a split second, there is nothing you can do but stare in awe, the tall tales of infatuation spinning your head dizzy.

“Shit, did you wanna go first?” His voice sounds like a siren, sweet and melodic all at once.

With the countless thoughts zooming through your brain, you’re certain any words that would filter through your lips would be nothing except incoherent mumbles. You settle for a nod.

“Uh, hate to break it to you sweetheart, but I needa go too.” His hand is still over yours and if not for the terrible rumble in your stomach, it would have been swept off your feet, along with the sickeningly sweet pet name he gives you.

“Maybe try downstairs? I’m sure it’ll be free soon.” This is the first time you’ve spoken during your brief conversation. The quick raise of the handsome stranger’s eyebrows encourages sheepishness to gnaw at your skin, the pink hues of your cheeks deepening.

“Ocupado, ‘m afraid.” he grins with a sliver of teeth, facial expression moulding into the awkwardness that starts to circle itself around the two of you.

Your hand turns the doorknob faintly and you catch the desperation that flashes in his eyes at your actions. If you weren’t about to soil your new top with stomach acid, you would’ve let him go first, bashful as ever as you hoped you would find him later on in the night whilst hoping he’d spare you another glance. Nevertheless, that was not the case.

“I’m sorry but,” you gulp, trying to keep whatever was coming up back down. “I really, really, really need to go, so…”

He’s stubborn. Stubborn as an ass apparently, because his hand still remains on yours. “Of course, but equally, I need to go as well. Surely, there’s like a sink or something I can go in. I’m really desperate.”

You can’t help as you wrinkle your nose, your patience wearing thin. You literally have to be sick. Why is this not being addressed? “Can’t you just pee outside? Guys do that all the time, don’t they?”

“I’m not an animal, you know.” the handsome stranger argues, and your eye twitches.

How did you end up arguing with a good-looking guy outside a bathroom at a house party?

“I’m not being funny, but if you don’t move, I will throw up all over you.”

“I’ve been meaning to go for an hour now. Can’t we make some sort of compromise?”

You were at your wits end. “As if, you fucking masochist! I’m going first!”

And you do, barging into the blindingly white room with all your might and making a beeline for the toilet. A heavy sigh sounds behind you as you heave into the toilet, bracing yourself for the ugly sight that’ll swim before you.

You hear a zip being undone and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “Surely, you’re not…?”

“I told you I needed to go.” the voice comes from the shower beside you. The world spins. House parties fucking suck.

You opt to fully exit your bitter discussion, focusing on ugly turns in your stomach. Your hair circles your face and you curse yourself for not having tied it up beforehand because obviously, it was going to–

It flows out of you. Swiftly and without much difficulty. You lunge forwards into the toilet bowl as the vomit empties out of you whilst the shower runs briefly, followed by the sink.

You just wanna go home.

“Hey,” the call for your attention is docile, the boy’s voice more sympathetic now. “You got a hair tie on ya?”

At this point, you’re on your knees, throwing up your early dinner in front of a boy you bad mouthed because you both wanted to use the bathroom at the same time. There’s no point in being shy now. You want all the help you can get.

You manage to shimmy the hair tie off your wrist and hand it towards his vague direction. For how unacquainted you two are, you move in great harmony as the boy grabs the hair tie and captures all your hair with ease whilst you busy yourself with other pressing issues.

When he’s finished, hair away from your face and in a low ponytail, the warmth of his hand settles against your back. The tears brimming in your eyes fall into the toilet bowl, body still before slow caresses have you melting into the palm of his hand.

“I…I know one of the guys that lives here,” he volunteers, tone unsure. “I’m sure he won’t mind you using one of his spare toothbrushes underneath the sink.”

You only manage back a groan, the icky feeling of humiliation creeping up on you as you continue to exhale into the toilet bowl.

“I’ll be back.”

And the man who peed in the shower leaves. Ok, that was rude of you, he did just help you when you were vomiting in spite of not knowing you. You should have more compassion for him, instead of lashing out at him out of embarrassment. When he gets back, you should thank him for all his help and hope to never see him again. You didn’t think you could live comfortably with yourself if you ever saw him again.

The faint thumps of typical party hits hammer beyond the bathroom, pouring in briefly when the man comes back into the room. By this point, your stomach has settled and you’ve flushed the toilet, yet your head still remains somewhat in the toilet because you couldn’t bear to come face-to-face with the guilt wrapped up in the form of a handsome, kind stranger.

“He said it’s cool, just open the new pack in the grey caddy.” You hear joints crack besides you before there’s a pat on your back. The comfort it brings is enough for you to swallow your pride. “Also, there’s some water next to you. Figured you wouldn’t want to go looking for it.”

Regardless of the ever growing shame that wants to drown you into a sad shell of yourself, your heart swells. The unprompted kindness offered from the stranger is refreshing, you wish you could tell him how grateful you are for him without your shame keeping your head in the toilet bowl.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe, wincing at the cringing sensations that course through your body. “Sorry for calling you a masochist earlier.”

He huffs out a bout of laughter and your heart feels lighter. “In all fairness, I was pretty crazy for holding it for that long, so I don’t blame you.”

You hated how you’d have to avoid this man after you two left this room. He was sweet, polite and made you laugh. Why did you have to meet under such ugly conditions?

“Thank you,” you exhale, feeling your heart bloom with the warmth he radiates. “Really.”

“No prob,” he lifts his hand off your back and suddenly, you’re cold again. “I’ll leave you to it. If you need me, I’ll be in the kitchen. If not, probably fucking it up on the dancefloor.”

You mumble another thank you after the laughter that leaves your lips, the blue-eyed stranger exiting and leaving you to clean yourself up as ponder on his kindness for a little longer than necessary.

You manage to sneak past the kitchen without bumping into the kind stranger. If you weren’t embarrassed before, the embarrassment catches up with you now. Outside, where the cool October wind blows, you’re perched on a step of the back porch, curled into yourself as you breathe in and breathe out. Things could have been a lot worse. You could have thrown up all yourself, delirious and none the wiser as nasty spirited individuals videoed the spectacle, not intervening even once. You could have been in a worse state in front of the stranger, vomit embedded in your hair as you wailed to call your friends or to go home. It could have been so much worse, yet here you are, rocking away as you will yourself not to cry.

You blame it on the emotional turmoil that’s plagued your week. Your academic and interpersonal affairs bore a burden like never before, pushing you beyond your means countless times this week and eventually, as you self soothe in solitude, you succumb to their will. Your friends are worried sick, searching every inch of the unfathomably large house to find you. You shoot them a text, notifying them of your safety and the privacy you seek. With dozens of texts that express reassurance, you let out a sigh before the music playing inside is too good for you to ignore.

Call it foolish, but it’s the nostalgic sounds of 00s’ dance that help you pick up the pieces. Assist in the carefree attitude you adopt that leads you right back inside, finding your friends and changing the course of the night.

If only you knew your carefree attitude would have you right where you once were. Face to face with the handsome stranger, the ends of an empty beer bottle pointed towards you two as bystanders ooh and ahh.

“Get in there, Leon!” a friend - you assume - hollers, slurring his words as he lazily drapes against Leon’s rigid frame.

You two exchange a look, eyes seeking any kind of communication that would hint at what the future held.

Your hand is given a squeeze and suddenly one of your friend’s whispers into your ear. “He’s cute, go for it.”

You crimson. At her words and at the fact that your next encounter with Leon has come so soon. Relentless is the sensation of dread and cringe as it sinks into your bones and buries you into the ground. All eyes are on you and you want nothing more but cringe? Disappear? Run away? There’s so much going on in your head right now.

A hand is outreached. It’s as if a lifeforce beyond yours comes down to save you, extending their hand to sail you away to safety. Alias, it is nothing but a figment of your imagination as you peer up, eyes sparkling as Leon’s tall figure towers over yours. For a second, you can’t read his facial expression, can’t comprehend the logistics of your predicament. However, when the edge of his lips curl upwards, pleasant and mellow in nature, there’s a sense of relief that starts to wash over you.

“Ready if you are.”

He has a way with words. He must have. Otherwise you wouldn’t have felt so comforted on that bathroom floor, otherwise you wouldn’t be in some confined closet, little to no light with the same person you threw up in front of.

“Well,” he starts off after a minute or two of silence. “This is…”

“Awkward.”

A cough is followed by silence. Then laughter.

Out of all the people at this party, the universe had to fabricate yet another meeting with Leon. The guy who you basically cussed out in order to use the bathroom. The same man that after washing his hands, held your hair up for you and soothed your sickness with a gentle back rub. There is nothing more you want to do right now than crawl out of your skin.

“You feeling a bit better now?” Leon’s voice is hushed when he talks to you, gentle and filled with unexpected care.

Despite the awkwardness of your situation, you can’t help disregarding such lame state of feeling as you lean into his kindness. “Yeah, I had a bit more water and was outside for a bit, so I’m pretty much sober now.”

Your fingernails dig into the flesh of your palm. A nervous tic. “Thank you. And, sorry.”

Leon appears to relax into the flow of conversation, moving his body to lean against the wall of the compact closet you find yourselves in. As he shuffles, notes of smoky vanilla waft in the air, Leon’s cologne finding its way to you. The smile you hide behind a closed fist is all kinds of bashful, body drawn to the intoxicating nature of the fragrance.

“I wasn’t terribly nice to you either, so think of it as making amends,” his hand extends forwards, bridging the gap between the two of you. “Truce?”

Amusement tugs at the ends of your lips, humoured by the hints of unseriousness that seems to be a recurring theme in your story. Going from badmouthing one another to being shoved into a tiny closet for Seven Minutes in Heaven and forced to call truce. It’s the kind of bizarre story that hangs in the air after a night out, disgustingly hungover in bed as your friends jam into someone’s room and recall the night’s events.

“Truce.”

You shake on it, pulling away when the flutter of your heart tickles your chest.

Through the dim sliver of marmalade orange light that peeks through the bottom gap of the door, you catch glimpses of Leon. The sharp slants of his jaw, the heavy flutter of his eyelashes, the sheepishness of his smile - all lopsided and accompanied the hues of strawberry jam red. He’s trying his best and it’s endearing. As is he. Charming and caring, a little silly yet undeniably sweet. Perhaps your perspective on him is a bit skewed due to the remnants of alcohol that float in your system, but if you happened across the same dirty blond, blue eyed boy on campus, you know your heart would still beat the same.

“Three minutes!” Someone yells beyond the door, prompting an uptake in your breath.

Never too forward, Leon draws closer to you, hands to himself as he suggests, “We could just head back out, if you’d like. I’m sure they’re not gonna be too up their asses about it.”

You don’t miss a beat. “I don’t want to.”

You’re both caught off guard. Your eyes widened and Leon’s eyebrow raised. It’s as if you’ve been exposed, barenaked for all the world to see your secrets. In itself, your response isn’t the strangest. Anyone would assume after calling truce, your allocated time meant to be spent together could foster the beginnings of a friendship, a friendly conversation. Even so, Leon and yourself were getting ahead of yourselves - reading in between the lines, sifting for something that was there.

“I mean,” the wardrobe is suddenly indescribably small, the surface of your cheeks warming as your eyes dart all over the place. What is going on here? “We could always just talk or…”

“Or what?”

Leon’s being mean. He knows he is. But, he can’t help himself. Jumping the gun, clawing at any and every opportunity to be close to you. Leon spotted your figure earlier during the course of the night, eyes capturing the shimmer in your eyes and bounce of your hair as you happily twirled your friends around on the dancefloor. You were simply magnetic, doused in dazzle and delight as your glittery makeup highlighted your timeless beauty. Leon would’ve approached you, winning you over with his charm and foolish dance moves - but he needed a drink. A drink which became two, two which became three and ultimately he broke the seal, landing him on a collision course with you outside the bathroom.

This isn’t how he imagined meeting you.

Nevertheless, you were together and despite the not-so-great circumstances presented, Leon made the best of it. Helping you and being the gentleman he is. And even if you never saw each other again, he would still remember you for all the shimmer in your eyes and just how infectious your smile was.

Now, under more favourable conditions, he doesn’t want his time with you to end. You’re just as captivating up close, if not more. Timid yet so sweet. Leon gets lost in you - lost in the details of your hair, your voice, your eyes. He wonders if the longer he prolongs your conversation, the sooner you’ll see his attraction towards you. Hopes you’ll reciprocate, hopes you’ll see it too.

“I don’t know.” You settle for, casting your eyes away from Leon as you twiddle your thumbs.

You want to be close with Leon, maybe kiss him if you could. But, you just don’t know. He’s seen you at your worst, sick in the toilet without a thought behind your eyes. You’re still embarrassed - even if Leon makes good work of fending that off. And perhaps because of that, along with other complexities, you want to be close with him.

If only he’d let you.

There’s a huff of frustration before something knocks your shoe. You look, examining Leon’s tired Converse shoe that nestles against your own pair of shoes. Your heart stills.

“I saw you earlier,” he starts, standing tall as he inches closer towards you. His pools of blue know only the sight of your lips, pink in hue and supple with lipgloss. He briefly looks away for his own good. “You looked really good on the dance floor.”

The gravity of your current reality settles in quick. Leon’s with you. Initiating everything and bringing this whole charade to a close. Your instinct is to wrestle with the reasons why, question his intentions and ultimately, take a step back. But, you’re exhausted. You’ve done enough mental gymnastics to last you a lifetime. You know you want this, so why can’t you have it? The answer is clear now. You take the plunge, hands grasping onto his backarm as you test the waters. “You think so?”

You’re gazing into each other’s eyes now, nowhere to run or hide. Leon hums in response yet still searches for something in your eyes - a glimmer of hope, confirmation to proceed and gets it in the form of you leaning into him with the bat of your eyelashes. His arms circle your waist, hesitant at first but solid in their place on the small of your back. You’re already seeing stars.

“Leon?” your voice is barely above a whisper, forehead pressed against Leon’s as you grow impatient.

He hums in reply. “Can we? Can we-”

“Can we kiss?” he says this, lips brushing up against yours. You grip his broad shoulder extra hard incase you buckle at the knees.

“Please,” you only manage to get out before your lips connect.

Leon shows you just how much he wants this, how much he wants you in his kisses. Gentle yet firm in his desire, his lips envelope yours in a way that sets your heart ablaze. Your brain short circuits, the sparks soaring between the two of you insatiable as you melt into each other. Your hand falls to brace yourself against Leon’s chest, the accelerated patter of his heart vibrating against your palm. You can’t help the smile that blends into your kiss, opening an invitation for Leon’s tongue that glides against the flesh of your bottom lip.

“Time’s up!”

His teeth plunge into your bottom lip lightly. You separate with a whine.

There’s a moment before the door opens, time where your eyes scan over Leon to gather all your thoughts and take him in. His pupils are full blown, his arctic blue irises submerged in the dilation of his pupils, lips plump with need and breath laboured. He looks far away, as if he is immersed in a dream that’s too good to be true and judging by the smile that graces his face, you’re sure you look the same.

“Need a mint?” Leon’s all jokes, smile giddy and besotted.

You roll your eyes in response, playfully jabbing his hard bicep with a closed fist. “Says the one who stuck his tongue down my throat.”

“Guilty as charged,” he holds his hands up in surrender, eyes giving you their undivided attention. “Wouldn’t mind doing that again though.”

He punctuates his point with circling his arm around your waist, drawing you in close before placing a delicate kiss against the flushed skin of your cheeks. It’s shameful how much you like this guy already.

“You’re disgusting.”

The door opens and you leave the closet happier than you ever were before.

#resident evil 4 remake #resident evil 4 #resident evil 4 fanfic #resident evil fanfic #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy imagine #re4r #re2 remake #re2 leon #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil fluff #leon s kennedy imagine #my fics

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prince-kallisto · 8 months

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Ramshackle Gravestones

Ramshackle Dorm has a fascinating connection to ghosts and the undead: from the haunted mansion look, three ghosts, and two gravestones…wait, gravestones? I just recently discovered the two gravestones at Ramshackle Dorm- I’m the type of person who misses obvious details like that haha. I heard other people say that maybe it was a Halloween decor choice, or something made by the ghosts to scare people off. After all, there’s a shovel right in front of the Ramshackle gates.

But look at Ramshackle dorm when it turns into the “Dazzingly Dapper dorm.” All renovated and shiny- the gate and stairways are all replaced with more elegant designs. However, the two gravestones still remain, are REPLACED with new stones, are given a more formal and respectful placing. The gravestones even have a separate path leading to them. And as we know, Ramshackle was under renovation for quite some time after Book 6 shenanigans, and Vil was definitely part of the designing process.

So why give such a prominent spot to *fake* gravestones? I personally think that these gravestones are the real deal. But not only because of this evidence, but because Ramshackle attracts the undead. Think of the three ghosts and Eliza from the Phantom Bride event- there must be an underlying reason that the dead are attracted to Ramshackle. But that’s where the bigger question lies: Who did these graves belong to?

Of course, that would be nearly impossible to deduct. There’s likely a whole slew of characters we haven’t been introduced to yet, especially now that we’re beginning to learn about Fae backstories. But I want to debate as many possible options to hopefully spark some ideas ^_^ Spoiler alert: none of these options feel convincing enough, but I think there’s a reason for that (more on that later)

-The Ghost trio: The immediate answer would be these guys, but why have only two gravestones instead of three, especially since the gravestones were replaced? I talked A LOT more about the ghost trio in my previous theory post, but all three died in their old age, none of them died as students.

-Eliza: Nope. Haha a little harsh, but she just didn’t meet any of the criteria for this one

-Portraits: In Ramshackle dorm, there are portraits of a woman, but I’m still not convinced that she has any relevancy other than just being a reference.

-Past NRC students: This seems like a possibility AT FIRST, but now we have to confront the main problem with these gravestones.

Look at the shovel, the haphazard placements of the gravestones, the unkempt the yard. Hell, just consider the fact that Ramshackle is ABANDONED. If it were past students, or meant to be a memorial for ANYBODY, why give them such disrespect? If a student ever died due to an Overblot tragedy or any other incident, there’s no way their graves would have become this disregarded- it’s highly unlikely that student bodies (no pun intended) would be buried on school ground in the first place!

Hm. Back to square one- or so I thought. Looking at both gravestones again, they seem to be unmarked. It would’ve been very easy to draw in a few squiggles or lines. If they’re not meant to be read, so be it, but why leave the graves unmarked?

After all, as we can see from the Halloween events, or even just the statues of the Great Seven, the graves are MARKED, despite being event background props

Graves were (and are left) unmarked throughout history for various reasons: Too many victims of disease, too poor to afford a proper memorial, or suggest that the person burying ISN’T worthy or memorial and respect.

Interesting 👀 We may be making some progress with that last point- and it may be the reason why Ramshackle was abandoned. Again, I talked more about it in my previous theory post, but the ghosts were definitely not the reason why Ramshackle was abandoned. If anything, it was a coverup for something big. After all, at least a hundred student have had to have been displaced, and new rituals would have been required.

Thinking more about the shovel and the crooked gravestones is interesting. It’s almost like the placement of these gravestones were rushed. And with Ramshackle being abandoned, no one would have to think about these gravestones. I feel confident that the graves were placed after the abandonment of Ramshackle dorm, because although the dorm has a very haunted look to it, it must have been completely different in its prime. No dorm would have a shovel lying in front of the gates!

Still, it’s bothering me that these gravestones were made on school grounds in the first place- unless the graves were related to someone from the school. Someone who wasn’t worth remembering- or perhaps their identity is kept secret for another reason entirely.

But there’s even more things that are bothering me. Let’s look at the graves once more: They’re different sizes. The one of the left is larger, the one of the right is smaller. And even with these renovations, the different sizes remain the same.

Is it perhaps implying that the one of the left was older, and the one of the right was younger? Like a child and an adult?

(*heaves in Revan/Crowley theories because what if it represents Mallenoa and Malleus because notice how the long is RIGHT NEXT TO THE GRAVESTONES in the Halloween event*)

Anyway, I still can’t think of the two possible victims, and they likely are people we haven’t met yet in the main game or are involved with the fall of Ramshackle. But I have one last desperate suggestion: What if the gravestones represent two people that haven’t died…yet? If the time loop theory is relevant, what if two key characters ended up dying from the monster in the prologue?

Edit: A comment or mentioned what if the gravestones were for MC and Grim 👀 the different sizing of the gravestones would make so much sense

AS USUAL I have no clue 🤩 At the moment, so much is kept in the dark, and literally all I can do is speculate and obsessively analyze everything. I feel like I’ve learned a lot about Ramshackle with these posts, even if we technically aren’t any closer to discovering the truth 🤣 I’d love to hear any suggestions and ideas, because I’m so lost haha

#twst #twst theory #twst ramshackle #twst ghosts #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland theory #twst book 7 spoilers #ramshackle dorm #KallistoPost

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loveydovey-leviathan · 5 months

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(hi im the one that asked abt teen!reader) thanks for ur answer !! :D i’m 17 myself so i didn’t intend to send in anyth w a younger reader haha ^^

my req was that i wanted to ask for hcs w the cast abt how they’d react to (teen) reader fawning over their crush (from the human world LOL), it’s platonic either way so i’m not sure if adding teen here makes a difference.. 🤔

obey me x gn! teen! reader

a/n: -> written as platonic. had a lot of fun doing this request! i feel like the core difference when adding teen to the mix instead of an implied adult reader is that the bros would definitely be more protective. if mc/reader is an adult who has a crush on some random human, then they wouldn't be as scrutinizing of them.

cw: ooc. brothers only (minus satan). a lot of repeating words and sentences

𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐑:

He jokes about seeing his little siblings as babies still, but there is definitely an element of truth to them.

When he first finds out about your little crush, he kind of just shrugs it off. It's normal for people to develop little crushes every now and again.

But he starts getting slightly irritated when he hears you fawning. Despite that, he makes sure to listen to you.

If he worries that it might be getting serious, he makes sure to give you a lecture about what you deserve talk to you.

He isn't going to stop you from having a crush but if he thinks they're not good for you, you'll be hearing from him a lot lol.

If they hurt you in some way, they will be facing... certain repercussions.

If you want to visit them, he is not the brother you should ask because he'll most likely say no unless it's a really dire emergency.

Overall, pretty chill considering how overprotective he is as long as he deems them worthy of someone he cares about.

𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐎𝐍:

He's freaking out.

Definitely the brother who spoils and makes time to hang out with you the most, so when he hears about your crush, he becomes a goddamn investigator.

Keeps asking questions about what they like, what they do in their free time, how much you like them. Once he's finished with the interrogation, he side-eyes you like you just told him you loved rainbow pizza (he finds that shit disgusting).

He's so annoying about your crush, I'm sorry. Whenever you bring them up in a conversation, he makes sure to complain and roll his eyes.

If you want to visit them, he's your go-to big bro. It does not take a lot of convincing to make him teleport you to a hang-out.

But even if he is a little shit about it, he still makes sure to listen carefully when you talk about them and reminds you that they "better be treatin' you right".

𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍:

Him and Asmo are the best to talk to about your crush. They WILL listen no matter what.

As long as you listen about his crushes, he's more than happy to listen about yours.

If you're crush is someone you can hang out with and not like a celebrity crush, he lowkey gets kinda jealous 'cuz all of his crushes are either fictional or really popular, so he doesn't get to do that not like he would have the guts to anyway.

Will not put in the effort to help you in visiting them, but he will buy a bunch of equipment so you can talk to them through facetime and gaming (it comes with a pretty heavy price though).

𝐀𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐔𝐒:

He's so happy that you have someone to like in that way <3

Your talks last for literal hours into the night. If you're into make-up, nail art or skin care, he'll definitely help you when the two of you gossip.

He has the juiciest details in his relationships and will tell you almost everything, but he won't push you to do the same.

As much as he likes to have fun, he probably gives the most solid advice and encourages you to go for it the most out of the rest of his brothers.

He won't help you visit the human world though. Too much work.

𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐙𝐄𝐁𝐔𝐁:

Is the most nonchalant about the whole thing.

As long as you give him something to eat, he'll listen to you simp.

Isn't really interested in your crush but he makes note of the important things like how they treat you and what they like just in case he meets them.

If they hurt you, he won't do anything rash because he doesn't want to embarrass you, but he'll push you to try and let go.

If he thinks they're nice, he won't really mention asking them out officially and just reckons you'll do it in your own time.

Doesn't give much input and mostly quietly listens, other than a few nods, hums, burps and growls here and there.

He'll help you visit the human world if you give him the right food. If it's not good enough, he won't do much and deems it too much trouble. Lucifer might put him on dinner duty and force him to not "taste-test" the food.

𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐑:

He is the worst listener of all. He does not care in the slightest.

Any time you rant to him about the person you like, he will fall asleep in 2 minutes flat.

The only time he'll put effort into anything that has to do with your crush is when they make you sad. He's lazy as shit but it's for you so he'll attempt to make your crush's life a very big minor inconvenience for a few days as revenge. He'll also try to convince you to join him btw.

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starmistz · 1 month

Text

HxH - Dodgeball Scene

Note: This isn't really an analysis but more of a rant, hence it being messy, haha .. (^^ ;) Everything is based on my own opinion too, so I don't guarantee it would satisfy everyone. But anyway, enjoy ur read! :3

(Chapter 166, episode 70.)

If someone asks me which HxH scene is the most misunderstood one, I would say it's this:

I've seen almost EVERYONE in this fandom say that this scene was very "selfish" and "insensitive" of Gon. But dude, c'mon. Do you really think Gon wouldn't give a flying fuck about Killua getting hurt just for his own benefit? He isn't that type of friend. In fact, he literally hates it when Killua willingly hurts himself, like he gets so mad and bothered.

Take this scene for example:

But what piqued my interest was how he still kept this moment in mind after a bunch of chapters later:

It shows how he still didn't forget about that situation, and thought about this self-destructive trait of Killua carefully. Pretty ironic for getting mad at Killua for being like this when Gon himself is also self-destructive, haha. It's like it's indicating that Gon knows how it feels like being self-destructive, so he's trying to stop Killua from feeling that aswell. Keep that in mind though, I'll be talking about it later on. :3

In the mean time, I think it's important to look carefully on to details even if it's tiny. I noticed a few things about this panel too:

Only Gon is drawn with a 💢, and he's also doing a ❌️ finger sign (it's so funny.) I get it probably doesn't have any deeper meaning but the fact that it's like that shows how much he dislikes it if u ask me. 😭😭 I mean, bisky just looks disappointed, not mad. Why not add a 💢 on her too? That's 'cause she's not THAT bothered by it, and it's implying the difference of how they take this trait. And well, Gon takes it SERIOUSLY. So point is, he's not insensitive when it comes to Killua intentionally hurting himself as we see him clearly despising it.

Anyway, remember how I told u to keep that one thing in mind? Yeah, Gon knowing how it feels like being self-destructive and all. We all know that the reason he does this is because he feels weak, and so he has this need to prove himself strong and useful to feel better, right? Well.. I feel like as time goes by, Gon thinks that Killua is also doing this because of the same reason. He notices how far Killua goes just to prove himself worthy too. So when he voluntarily decides to take painful hits in the dodgeball game, Gon encourages it instead. He knows how it feels to be seen as weak, not useful, and not needed. Taking risks for something, but people don't encourage that. They just tell you to stop, not knowing that it would just make you feel even more useless, making you feel like you did all of that for nothing because it was never enough. Gon is aware of that, so he does the opposite to Killua. Don't you guys get it? If he told Killua to just stop, Killua would feel unworthy and not good enough. He's going out of his way to help Gon, he free-willingly decides to take those hits. If Gon told him to stop, it would feel like rejection–that Gon didn't appreciate all that effort, and is techincally telling Killua that his help meant nothing. You can see how Killua was so desperate, he was so pushy with the "I can take one more hit!!! Gon, let me do it!!" and now imagine if Gon said no💀 That would be rejecting his help/an act out of love (platonic or romantic idc.) THAT would be the one that's ACTUALLY insensitive to Killua.

So Gon shows appreciation and encouragement instead, letting Killua's effort not be in vain. Saying stuff like how he NEEDS Killua to be the one that holds the ball for him, how he can't focus if it's not Killua–he needs Killua's help and Killua himself. All of that, is definitely what Killua needed to know too. It literally made him smile and felt more upbeat after, how could people say it was insensitive and would hurt Killua's feelings? 😭 He's happy to know that Gon does care about his efforts for him after all. ᵔᴗᵔ ♡

One thing I'd like to say though is that; That was still unhealthy for both of them. They think self-destructing is the only way they'll feel loved. 🙁 Of course I agree that it was most definitely bad, and it's not a good thing that Gon just fueled up Killua's self-destructive tendencies even more..😭🙏 BUT the point here is that, it wasn't insensitive and selfish of Gon in that moment, okay!?!? They both saw it in a positive light, even though.. it was definitely bad... but uhm anyways yeah, everyone should stop being so upset with this scene. You all are misunderstanding it and it's painful. 😔

But hooray thanks for listening!

#hxh #hunter x hunter #hxh gon #hxh killua #killugon #gonkillu #killua zoldyck #gon freecss #gay subtext #queer subtext #we're all doomed #i cant do this #i hate it here

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xeas · 1 day

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Can you please do a Norton and fool's gold with a reader where the reader has cinnamoroll personality (cinnamoroll is from sanrio)

MIND OVER MATTER IS MAGIC!

🍍 IN WHICH: drabbles (seperately) of Norton Campbell and Fool's Gold with a reader who is like cinnamoroll from sanrio (basically, shy yet sweet who will also help out their friends whenever they can)

🥥 NOTE FROM XEA!: thank you so much for your request! i love writing for norton but im wary my fools gold may ooc...haha...

🫧CONTENT WARNINGS: pre-established relationship, Norton may appear overprotective, mc may appear to be 'pure and innocent' in a fashion that may be perceived as corny to some readers. reader is referred to as "doll" in Norton's section, "babyface" in Fools Gold's. Seer is mentioned and Grave keeper is implied in Fools Gold section. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!

NORTON CAMPBELL; The Prospector

NORTON swears up and down he's done nothing worthy of him deserving you.

The way your thumb grazes his knuckles in a comforting manner--whether to soothe your own nerves or his is unsure-- but the expression of innocence coated on your face both makes his heart sink to his stomach and gives him butterflies.

You have the eyes of someone who has gazed at few possible traumatic scenarios and the skin of one who not been lashed by the harsh truths of the world. He squishes down his feeling of envy when he feels he's going too far down the rabbit hole of his thoughts.

But now, as he bandages up your wound from the cold Night Watch, he can't help but realize how that weighs you down. It wasn't supposed to be you with the gash in your thigh it was supposed to be the teammate you wasted no time saving. You took a hit for them, and for what? So they could have a futile 5 seconds to run as fast as they could only for the harsh winter wind to yank them back to the hunter? You we're such a fool, having so much faith in these people.

But that's what led you two to become such a power couple. You gave him a chance.

"Norton-"

"Hush up, doll." And you do just that.

He looks angry and you feel nervous because of it.

"I'm sorry for getting injured." You mumble quietly. You don't expect a 'Its fine' or a 'Its not your fault' because this was a rookie mistake and you by no means are a rookie.

He remains silent, finishing up dressing your wound. His gloved hands go to hold your thighs as you sit in some corner of burned down building in the Arms Factory.

"Don't do that again." He states. Its not up for debate and you silently nod, moving to give his forehead a kiss as you steady yourself to get up and work on getting out of here.

NORTON CAMPBELL; Fools Gold (Hunter Identity)

"Hm, shame. Really."

Fools Gold let out a teasing laugh as he shoved you into a chair. He leaned on the wall behind it as you glared up at him. Fools gold clicked his tongue (does he even have one??) and fake pouted, most likely mocking you.

"D'aw, don't look at me like that, Babyface. You wouldn't be like this if you didn't sacrifice yourself for that silly little seer."

At least he was brutally honest.

Your muscles are screaming at you and you can feel them throbbing after you spent the last 2 minutes running and jumping and rolling to get away from him.

He traces your jawline with his pickaxe, you can feel your face heat up as Fools Gold lets out a wheezing chuckle. "All bark huh?"

You try to stutter out a response not until you see the ground beside you break. This was going to take a while.

୨🐙୧ ‧ 𝙃𝘼𝙑𝙀 𝘼𝙉 𝘼𝙈𝘼𝙕𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝘿𝘼𝙔! ⋆ ˚｡

🌺 𝙓𝙊𝙓𝙊,

XEA!

#idv x reader #id5 x reader #Norton Campbell x reader #Norton Campbell #idv prospector #idv prospector x reader #Fools Gold x reader #Fools Gold #Identity V x reader

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imagine--if · 1 year

Note

hi! i saw that u write for aib and i was wondering if i can request a chishiya x reader, where they get separated in the middle of a difficult game and ends with the reader badly hurt by another player? idk why but i want something really angsty with a fluff ending (established relationship if possible) <3

A/N: Sure; I followed the concept as much as I could, I hope this is okay!! I need to start writing moreee aghhh I'm doing this final project for my course so it's been a bit hectic haha 😅 sorry for the wait! Enjoy 🖤 WORDS: 1.6K

Chishiya x Reader Oneshot; Smartass

Spades and Diamonds.

You already knew which person had to go where, which one between you and your partner was best for the very different survival games. One was all about using your head, outsmarting everyone to come out alive, and the other was about using your fists, your fight, physical strength rather than mental. And although you wouldn't say that you're the most physical person, especially in the Borderlands, you knew that in all the Borderlands, Chishiya Shuntaro could probably outsmart every single player. Maybe every gamemaster.

It was one of the first things you'd said to him when you met. During the Jack of Hearts, while the numbers of players were dropping on the screen, until it was just you and a handful of apprehensive, strange survivors left, Chishiya had stalked up to you and suggested you team up. The smirk that radiated self-confidence and amusement with the world, barely taking it seriously, but winning every game anyway, just because he could.

"Why don't you go solo?" You had questioned him with a raised brow, slightly defensive after he had called out your behaviour of just tagging along with the group but barely saying a word. You knew that trust was a priceless thing in the Borderlands, let alone in a Hearts game, and no one was worthy of it. "If you're such a smartass."

You thought that might get him annoyed, give him another reason to try and eliminate you from the game apart from being a survivor in the way of finding the Jack, or that you were the Jack yourself. But, if anything, his smirk grew, and those deep brown eyes looked almost curious as they glanced up and down at you.

"If I'm so smart, then what might you be?"

You scoffed under your breath, shrugging and looking away. "Wouldn't you like to know."

"Maybe I would," was Chishiya's answer, and you looked up at him, taken aback. But you could see that he meant it, that curiosity shining through his otherwise blank, assessing features, and so, after getting out of that game alive, and many others with him suddenly at your side, he did know. You both started to know each other, more and more, until you were practically inseparable.

No one announced that you were together. There was no proposal, no question of going out, no massive gesture. You were together before you were together. It only took one sealing kiss, where you were both alone in another long, tense night that somehow seemed a bit relaxed with your company. Chishiya always seemed so unbothered, so humoured by the world and people around him, like it was playing out for his amusement. But now, as you're faced with a dilemma that's hardly a dilemma, he doesn't look so amused. He looks almost as apprehensive as the players around you look when you and Chishiya breeze through the challenges, working together flawlessly. Chishiya found it odd how easy it was to know what the other was thinking almost all of the time during games, to find an interest in someone new and different, until it unfolded into something deeper and more loving. The whole thing was completely alien to the both of you, but you loved it, and let it blossom.

But now, as the large fluttering images of the face cards are dragged through the sky by fat blimps, Chishiya's brows twitch unapprovingly, searching for a solution that will guarantee both of your safety.

"Go," you urge him, and he knows what you mean immediately, staring at you thoughtfully. "It's your game, Chishiya. Go beat the King of Diamonds. I'll manage, I will."

Chishiya doesn't answer for a stretched-out few moments, still looking for another option, a way for you to stay at each other's side like you always do, but there isn't anything. You can't risk losing a Diamonds game, and Chishiya can't risk getting beaten at a Spade game.

"You will," Chishiya says finally, though he's not agreeing. He's making you promise him, convincing himself as well as yourself. You know that he'll have no interest in returning to the real world without you, and by this point, you can't imagine living any way without him. You don't want to, and you won't.

"I will," you repeat, and he nods, not fully satisfied. But it's the best you can do.

"Good luck," he says with a smirk that doesn't quite quirk up fully, and his hand lingers in yours until Arisu and Usagi come over to get you.

Chishiya nods again, letting your hands fall apart, and goes over to Arisu, walking up close to him and muttering some words in his ear. Arisu looks straight at you, then at Chishiya, and nods with a half-smile. Then, he wanders off casually, blonde locks tangling with the light breeze, and you watch after him, hands going cold and lips vaguely swollen.

"Come on," Usagi tells you with a smile, patting you on the back, "let's go."

You do go. And you do the best you can do. You feel like Chishiya's watching you every step of the way, like he watches the Borderlands' events in half-hearted amusement. It's like he's leaning forward in his seat, pools of deep brown searching the screen you're running through, dodging attacks and bullets and shielding your ears from the bangs and cracks of the King's gun. There's so much blood, more blood than you thought was possible to come out of anyone. The stinging smell of iron makes you feel sick, all the while you fight to the death. Usagi and Arisu and everyone are beaten and broken, right up until the King is defeated. But by then, everyone is defeated.

Even you.

You feel almost guilty, along with the rush of other emotions; shock, dread, fear, pain, desperation. You can't bleed out on him now. Not when you've come so far. Not after you promised.

Arisu and Usagi make it towards you, helping you up and practically carrying you out of the game zone, Arisu screaming for help, help for another person, despite his cuts and bruises and blood staining his skin. Overhead, you hear two blimps boom up in flames, falling apart and to the ground in crashes, the card images flailing and burning, as dead as the countless bodies sprawled on the floor.

Two booms.

You smile despite yourself. You knew he'd do it. The smartass.

"Chishiya!" you hear Arisu scream, and Usagi supports your weight as Arisu stumbles over to the blonde-haired man, grabbing at his arm. "Help us. Help her. I tried, but there was so much..."

So much blood. So many bullets. Arisu had tried, and he hadn't failed. But now, as your blurring sight latches onto that all-too-familiar figure who walked quicker than normal to get to you, you feel as if you've failed. All in a moment, one shot from the King at the nearest moving thing was all it took to make you collapse, all of a sudden losing the invincibility you had with your other half.

The blurring made the Borderlands and its sounds fade in and out, in and out, until you were able to blink a neutral, albeit run-down room into view. It was the back room of some kind of shop, with you lying back atop a table, your shot wound being patched up with delicate, expert hands and concentrating, meticulous eyes. Those eyes flick up to meet yours before they're back on the wound, and Chishiya's white, plastic-gloved hand pulls out a bullet. You wince, expecting more pain than you get, and watch him groggily.

"Isn't this supposed to hurt?" you find yourself whispering, and Chishiya shakes his head, not looking up.

"I gave you some pain relievers I found. Don't fidget, I'll mess this up."

You smile and roll your eyes. "I won't argue with a doctor."

"Good," he says with an absentminded, small smirk, carefully stitching up the hole and pulling a bandage closer to the table. "I know what I'm doing. Fortunately for you, the shot missed a vital organ, though the blood loss could have cost your life if I didn't stop it when I did."

You bite your lip, peering at your flushed, angry skin around the wound. "Oh. Thank you."

He hums in acknowledgement, putting the needle and thread down to unravel the bandage. "Stop fidgeting, you little annoyance."

You bite back a smile at his amused, fond tone, one you'd grown to love hearing, and started hearing more and more. But your smile fades as your thoughts run away with you, until you end up blurting them out.

"I'm sorry."

Chishiya glances up at you. "What for?"

"Getting shot," you mumble. "I know I promised. It was just really... I didn't die."

"You didn't die," Chishiya confirms. "That's what matters, isn't it? You kept your promise. And life and death here isn't something you can so easily promise."

"No," you agree. "I know. But you can. You're such a smartass, I knew you'd waltz out of that game alive and alone."

Chishiya smirks properly at that. "I'm still the smartass? I thought you would have started treating me nicer now I've saved your life and you've saved mine."

You frown at the last statement, confused. "I saved your life? How?"

Chishiya simply smiles, fastening the bandage and admiring his work. "You have. Maybe not from a gun. But you have."

You're lost for words for a short while, blinking at him. "Really?"

Chishiya nods, sitting beside you and reaching out hesitantly, stroking a piece of your hair so delicately, like you could break with a single hard tap.

"Really. You," he whispers dramatically, as if he's telling you his biggest secret, "are my biggest and best reason."

And then, just like that, he's back up and packing the medical aids away, looking over his shoulder at you with his usual, infuriating amusement and perceptiveness.

"You're blushing."

You scoff at him, rolling your eyes.

"Smartass."

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fantasticnerdluminary · 2 years

Text

Comforting letter from your future lover/spouse

Hey guys, I am an intuitive reader as I am a clairvoyant. I get visions of future and can channel spirits.

Warning : This is for entertainment purposes. This is not set in stone or 100% true.

I would really appreciate if you would leave a feedback here. It really helps me a lot.

Thanks a lot for reading this, liking and for reblogs. See you soon again :)

Letter 1 Letter 2 Letter 3

Group 1

Hey Sunshine,

I know it seems hard right? Very much hard right? But do you know how much courage and strength you have within you. You are much stronger than you think. Everybody says the same thing to you like "It'll be okay", "Don't think about it too much" and much more, I would like to say you one thing take as much time you need, start again whenever you feel like it and you have to remember 'Why did you start' I am with you at every step in your life. It feels good to know that you are happy and safe wherever you are at this moment. So, please don't be too sad. You don't know how much you mean to me. It feels like heaven to be with you, to be wrapped in your arms while embracing your presence. I went into the future ahemmm......sorry haha but don't worry I'm with you whenever you need me. You can let it all go only with your one smile.

My brave girl :-)

From

Your Goofy lover

Group 2

Hey my sweetheart,

You know how much cocky I look right?!?! I am just joking, for you I would do anything. Won't you come a little bit closer, huh?! *winks* Why are you smiling like an idiot. I love it when I catch you off-guard like this. I am thriving for you, I have seen you in my dreams, in my vision. It feels really good to think that you are going to be with me. It's worth the wait, I assure you. I am working on myself too. I am waiting for you and being the best version of myself, so that I don't scare you away. You love forehead kisses don't you. I would give you a lot of them, like not only on your forehead but on your sweet and juicy lips too. You like to figure out everything yourself. I would like you to relax a bit and just go with the flow. Don't overthink too much. It would definitely workout at the end. If you want to pursue something as your hobby go for it, don't hesitate. You have all my support. Good luck, my baby girl/boy!!!!

From

Your naughty and sweet lover

Group 3

What's up gorgeous,

You are procastinating a lot of things and that's not good. It doesn't sound good to hear but you need to work hard for your big dreams. It will not be easy and to achieve big dreams you should go out of your comfort zone. You should know you are way more worthy than what you have now. You shouldn't have the victim mentality but the survivor mentality. Confidence looks good on your personality. I am really proud of you that you came this far on your own. You are the strongest. You inspire so many people around you that you have no idea of. I would never let you go once you're with me. I am not like your past partners. I know you had some good partners too but I promise I will be the best. You are my destination and I hope you are willing to walk together on our journey. Have a good day till then.

From

Your cheerleader and lover

#Spotify #pick a card #pick a picture #pick a pile #tarot reading #intuitive #clairvoyance #tarotcommunity #free readings #fs reading #future spouse #future lovers

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pedgito · 2 years

Note

Ahhh you did my breakup sex request you literally made me cry!!! I had an idea for a part 2(if you ever want to write it lol) so two months after reader starts dating a guy who can be easily her soulmate but she gets bored cuz everything is too perfect (except the sex cuz she can’t help but compares it to eddie) and somehow one night reader ends up in eddies trailer again idk something like that haha. You’re literally the best author your writing is so good, so so talented 🖤

author’s note: i mixed this with another request i got here, but this is a continuation of this request if anyone's reading this before the other part. it's not necessary but the context will help.

cw: 18+ (minors dni), fem!reader, makeup sex?, cheating (sort of? reader is over her boyfriend and he's an asshole so yeah), exhibitionism (barely, they're in private but other people are around), angst, confessions, jason is an asshole, eddie is degrading of the readers bf toward her, multiple orgasms, fights (brief description of injury), lots of smut, ect. let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 6.7k

You can’t even bring yourself to look at him, most of the time. Eddie’s done a perfect job at ignoring, pretending you don’t exist, plucking you out of his life—just like you asked, but you weren’t sure what hurt more—knowing how easily he could move on, or how badly you regretted all of it in the first place.

It didn’t matter that Eddie was struggling every day to not look your direction, hug you, just be in your presence—it was a constant, daily reminder of how badly he’d fucked up. Maybe if he was a better boyfriend, maybe if he paid attention more often and didn't throw himself into everything he loved so passionately, then you would have stayed.

It doesn’t take long for you to move on, but you thrive on codependency, being with someone, and you never expected that person to be Jason—but he just fits, or, you made him fit. You have similar interests, he’s sweet to you when he tries to be, and he always knows how to make you feel special; the sex was another story.

And it wasn’t that Eddie wasn’t sweet or caring—Eddie was all of that, but you melded with Jason on a level that Eddie couldn’t reach, at least that’s what you told yourself.

Jason was performative in a different way—Eddie loved to make a scene, grab everyone’s attention, but the affection he showed you was never meant for show. He kissed you in private, told you all the filthiest things in the world that would have you blushing in public, but those words were meant for you and no one else. He’d hold your hand when you were nervous, or rub your back when you were worried. Eddie always knew when to lean in and when to back away—with Jason, it was never genuine.

He only ever kissed you in front of his friends and constantly bolstered himself up on a pedestal when you were around, like you were just another worthless person to impress—and that’s when you realized that the only thing Jason really needed was approval. He only acted like he enjoyed the same things you did to come off as likable, he bought you expensive gifts to make you feel worthy, and he was everything that every girl could ask for, but not you.

And as horribly as you feel about it, the sex was the breaking point. He was quick and rushed and never focused on anything but himself, it was such a whiplash experience from what you had with Eddie that it left you in tears, most of the time—you’d shove Jason out of your house quickly afterwards, curl up on your bed, and weep until it hurt less. It was your own selfishness that wanted to you to be taken care of too; sex was a shared experience, and you enjoyed it, it only seemed fair that it was equal on both ends. Jason didn’t see it that way, unfortunately.

Jason accosts you in front of his friends at lunch that Friday, his arms winding around your waist as he leans over to kiss you on the cheek, flashing the trademark toothy grin at you.

“You’re coming to the party, right?” He asks, the watchful eyes of others not giving you much of a chance to weasel your way out of his grasp. “Everyone’s gonna be there.”

“I guess,” You shrug, forcing a fake smile as he lets you go just as quickly, taking a seat at the head of the lunch table, “did Lucas ever get back to you?”

“He said he’d go,” Jason taps his fork against the tray, moving the food around, “but he wants me to invite all of them—some shit about being inclusive or whatever.”

“All of Hellfire?” You ask, eyebrows pulling up in confusion. You take a glance over at the table, eyes immediately drawn toward Eddie—he’s already looking at you when you turn your head and he panics, like he’s been caught, and quickly averts his attention toward Dustin.

“They’re all fucking freaks,” Jason says snidely, “If any of them try to ruin my party, they’re dead.”

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” You assure him, ignoring his obvious distaste and resentment toward the idea. “I doubt they’ll even go.”

“Yeah, let’s hope so.”

Jason abandons you before lunch is over, making a weak excuse about needing to talk to the boys in private—but really, you didn’t care. But, they snatch Lucas up in the process, much to Eddie’s dismay.

So when you finally leave the lunchroom to reach your locker, fiddling with the stupid lock that never wants to open, Eddie corners you. He notices the struggle, the frustrated look on your face, tongue poking out the side of your mouth.

He pulls it from your hand without questions, putting in the code and yanking at the lock with force—it opens on the first time. Eddie doesn’t have the same motivation to act smug about, his mouth pulled into a tight line.

“Thanks,” You mumble, open the locker door to retrieve your school books—he still hasn’t left, “—did you need something?”

“Tell your boyfriend to stop spreading his stink over my table,” He says with a harsh undertone, “it makes everyone uncomfortable—especially Lucas.”

“He’s not going to listen to me,” You tell him, “he never has.”

You two had only been together a couple months, but Jason always had a mind of his own, and was always forcing you to do things you wouldn’t normally do—he had to have that control. You didn’t like fancy dinner dates or extravagant nights out, but with Jason, that’s all you got.

You just wanted movies on the couch and cheap delivery pizza, to talk for hours about books and pop culture, everything that seemed interesting to you, and you wouldn’t even mind hearing him ramble on about basketball—it was the principle of it all, Jason didn’t like to put in the effort.

Eddie always had, you were only realizing that much too late.

And you can’t help your curiosity, mind racing with thoughts.

“Are you going to the party?” You ask, slipping your locker closed, taking a small glance at Eddie.

“Don’t know yet,” He shrugs. Eddie knew when to stay away, but with Jason, he couldn’t help himself, “maybe.”

He knew you were miserable, it was written all over your face, your mood, it had altered your personality into something he didn’t even recognize.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t.” You tell him honestly—it wasn’t a warning or a threat, you were just terrified of what would unfold if he did.

Jason knew of your past with Eddie and as much as he tried not to seem bothered by it, he couldn’t grasp the idea of someone wanting to be paired up with the town freak, Eddie Munson.

“You’re not my boss.” Eddie smirks with an immense amount of smugness.

“I’m not trying to be,” You tell him softly, “I’m just—I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

And it’s a terrible idea, in fact—but it doesn’t stop Eddie from showing up to the party with Chrissy Cunningham by his side.

“Uh, Lucas,” You nudged the boy standing beside you, cup in hand, “did he tell you anything about that?”

Lucas is just as wide-eyed as the rest of the party, gawking at the two of them like animals in a cage. Chrissy is noticeably unfazed, as always, smiling bigger than ever. The cheerfulness wasn’t an act either, it was just her. The only thing different about Eddie is that he isn’t wearing his jacket, which strikes you as odd because he never leaves the house without it, it was like his security blanket.

“No, nothing—“ Lucas takes a glance at Jason, who’s just as tense as the rest of you, but his eyes are brimmed with an anger he only got around Eddie, for whatever reason that was, he never talked about it either, “—you might wanna check on him.”

Jason sees you coming before you even touch him, hand coming up in waiting to wrap around you waist, like you were an accessory. “Hey, it’s fine,” You try to soothe him, your free hand wrapping around his own waist, hoping he’ll turn his attention toward you, “maybe Chrissy didn’t want to come alone.”

“But Chrissy—why her?” Jason asks, voice laced with jealousy. You roll your eyes noticeably, it felt like a losing battle anymore—relationships just weren’t for you.

“Everyone loves Chrissy,” You tell him, his eyes glancing toward you briefly, a micro twitch of his face at those words, “I don’t think Eddie’s immune to that, as much as you want him to be.”

You watch Chrissy yank Eddie toward the kitchen, his feet struggling to keep up as they squeak against the tile floor, letting her wrap his fingers in between hers. You’ve never seen Eddie talk to Chrissy, so it was just as much of a mystery to you.

And you knew the history with Jason and Chrissy, maybe he wasn’t really over her, maybe you were just a rebound—but so was he. That’s why you don’t stop him when he hurdles toward the kitchen, the rest of his posse hot on his tail, aside from Lucas. He grabs your hand before you make the decision to follow, shaking his head in warning.

“We should stay out of it.” He warns, “You know how he gets.”

“Yeah,” You nod pointedly, “That’s exactly the problem.”

“Munson,” Jason’s voice booms over the music, the entirety of the party turning their heads in his direction, ready to witness the carnage, “funny seeing you here.”

“You invited me.” He says, which is more of an attempt to make Jason look like an idiot.

He’s successful, gaining a few snickers and badly disguised laughs with a cough.

“It wasn’t a legitimate invitation,” Jason confesses, “—and Chrissy, wow—that’s a hell of surprise, how do you two know each other?”

They both stumble over their words for a moment before Chrissy finally answers.

“I just asked him,” She settled on, “I didn’t want to come alone.”

It shouldn’t hurt Eddie as much as it did, his ego is wounded—Chrissy was cute, nice, but it was a low blow on her part, since he was the one supplying her with drugs, all while managing to keep it a secret.

“So, pity,” Jason laughs, tipping his cup in Eddie’s direction, “—look, dude, I’d save yourself the embarrassment and just leave—it’s not like anyone wants you here—“

The last part forces you to put a stop to his assault, pulling gently at his arm, not wanting to become a secondary victim to his attack. “Jason, come on—everyone’s staring,” It took you a moment to realize that even the music had died down, all eyes on the four of you collected in the kitchen, ”babe, please.”

Eddie snorts an amused laugh at that, hand coming to rest against the counter top—he wasn’t even looking at Jason anymore, his eyes directly on you. You could see how badly he wanted to say something, make some snide comment, get back for all that you’d put him through—but it’s Jason that attacks instead, albeit, at your expense.

“I see why you like her,” Jason nods toward you, “—the mouth on her, it’s something—say, is that why you came? Did you think she was gonna take you back?”

You’ve never seen Eddie mad, but his face changes on a dime, open hand now closed fist and white knuckled. He could easily take Jason out, but he didn’t want to cause a scene, not in front of you.

But, it’s the next thing out of Jason’s mouth that has him throwing that morale out of the window completely.

“Did you think you could come here and make a trade?” Jason antagonizes—you try to feel hurt, but it almost sounds like a good idea, you couldn’t stand the sight of him anymore, and maybe it had been like that for weeks, but tonight was the breaking point.

Eddie punches first, slamming Jason against the ground as his fist connects with his eyebrows—again and again, until there’s blood covering his rings and Jason’s begging for relief.

No one seems surprised—almost relieved that someone finally dealt with Jason’s shit, but it still pulls at your gut, that guilt as you stared down at him, his eyebrow split open at end, blood pouring and pooling quickly into his hand.

Lucas senses your hesitance, kneeling down at Jason’s side, “Go—get him out of here.” He begs, shoving you away and into Eddie, his fists curled tightly at his side. You yank once, twice, until he finally gives in and lets you drag him away from the majority of the party.

The only unlocked door you can find is Jason’s bedroom, which is a horrible juxtaposition to your life. But, Eddie’s covered in blood and you know there’s enough stuff to clean him up in there, so you drag him along, silently. Eddie can’t even force himself to speak.

You move diligently, locking the door to the larger bathroom, guiding him toward the edge of the counter, squatting down to find the first aid kit under the sink before slamming it against the marble surface, finally breaking Eddie from his trance.

He doesn’t say anything, but his hand extends, allowing you to grasp it. You pull gently at his rings, letting the metal clink into the sink, covered in a sticky crimson red. The impression of his own rings had cut into his knuckles at how hard the blow to Jason’s face had been, his own blood mixed with what you could only assume was Jason’s.

“That was stupid.” You say quietly, turning on the sink to let the water run over the rings, washing away as much blood as you could, guiding his hand under the freezing cold water, it’s even worse than the dull, throbbing pain in his hand.

“Do you let him talk about you like that all the time?” Eddie asks suddenly, face pulled up in frustration, jealousy.

“It’s Jason—who cares.”

“You broke up with me for that?” He pulls his hand back suddenly, annoyed with the bitter cold of the water, but also how dismissive you were being. “Was I really that horrible of a boyfriend?”

“Eddie, no,” You say honestly, guiding his hand back toward you, rubbing a small alcohol patch against the skin, his face seemingly unfazed, “—why does this even matter?”

He goes quiet again, he feels the anger, the resentment, but the last thing he wants to do is take it out on you, not when you’re on the verge of tears—you didn’t even realize amongst all the chaos, it’s only when you finally start to calm, placing the small bandages on Eddie’s knuckles that you feel it settle in.

You clear your throat loudly, shoving his hand gently back toward his chest, slamming the kit closed and returning it to its spot underneath the sink. “Look—I don’t know why you came here tonight, I told you it was a bad idea.”

You face toward the sink, fetching his rings and attempting to wrap them in a towel to dry them, but Eddie stops your movements, taking the balled up material in his hands and placing it back down. “I can look after myself,” He tells you, his undamaged hand wrapping around your bicep, the cold sting of his fingers a shock to your warm skin, feeling overwhelmed and claustrophobic, “—why won’t you look at me?”

You shake your head slightly, eyes downturned and staring at your fidgeting hands, twisting your own dainty rings against the skin.

“Look at me.” Eddie demands softly, “Please.”

He’s met with teary eyes, lips pulled tight to keep any sounds from escaping, his thumb brushes away the stray tear that slips down your cheek.

“Is he always like that?” Eddie asks, whatever anger he felt a few minutes ago forced away, if only for a moment. You needed a friend, he could be that.

You shake your head, unable to admit it to yourself. “Not always—it doesn’t matter, Eddie. I just need to go back downstairs and tell him I’m leaving—he can finally try and get Chrissy back, I know that’s what he’s after.”

“We were coming from a deal,” Eddie tells you abruptly, your eyes pulling up to him in confusion, his hand still resting against your cheek. He hasn’t moved it and you couldn’t be bothered to move it either, “—she’s one of my regulars.”

You laugh at the absurdity, giggle bubbling from your chest. “Chrissy, seriously? God—Jason would shit himself if he knew that.” Then again, maybe he did—and maybe that’s why he hated Eddie so much. You didn’t care to find out, Jason was the last thing on your mind.

Still, you couldn’t help but be upset at Eddie for being so irrational, causing a scene, you slap him in the chest suddenly, soft at first, but harder until he has to grip your hands, forcing you to stop. “That was stupid! Why would you do that?”

“I did that for you?” He responds passionately, and it pulls you back, surprised that he even admits it out loud. “Is that such a fucking shock that some cares about you?”

“We’re not together anymore.”

“Yeah—I’m very fucking aware of that,” Eddie snaps, “but I still care, I was your friend first, remember that?”

You’re silent, startled by his words. He’s not angry—just, upset.

“You threw all of that away,” Eddie tells you, “not me—not when I cared about you, liked you, fuck—I almost—I almost thought I loved you, you know?”

“Eddie—“

He doesn’t stop, a never ending flow of confessions. He was pouring his heart out to you in the middle of your ex-boyfriends party, hand still pounding with pain, and done with holding back for so long.

“You were worried about us not liking the same things? That I spent too much time on the things I enjoyed? You didn’t even communicate that to me,” Eddie takes a breath, rubbing his hands over his face in frustration, “maybe I was selfish for asking you to have sex with me that night, but I don’t regret—I never regretted anything in our relationship and if you hated me so much, you should’ve never committed yourself to it.”

“Eddie, I don’t regret anything—“

“And you start dating Jason, really? Jason?”

“Eddie!” You shout, and Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever heard you yell, stopping for a brief moment to hear you out. “I’m sorry—I should’ve never broken up with you the way I did.”

“Well, you did.”

And you feel it hit you, the urge to say it—it felt like you’re world was closing in on you and if you didn’t say it now, you’d never have the chance,

“I wish I’d never broken up with you at all.” You say softly, taking a step back to lean against the sink, hit with a sudden wave of vertigo or dizziness, the adrenaline of it all finally wearing off, “I can admit that now.”

“You don’t mean that.” Eddie says quietly, hand braced between you too, almost as a defensive mechanism. “Not after making me doubt everything about us.”

“You never did anything wrong,” You admit to him, “I was being selfish, I didn’t want to communicate—I just wanted things to be perfect—my perfect, but I don’t even know what this is now.”

“Relationships aren’t perfect, sweetheart.” He says soothingly, hand fading back slightly, “I’m pretty sure it’s impossible.”

“I’m starting to realize that.” You laugh bitterly, reflecting on all the stuff Jason had put you through, physically and mentally. “Look, I’m really sorry, Eddie.”

“It’s okay.”

It was not okay, but Eddie wanted to make you feel safe, even if he needed time to process everything himself.

You reach your hand forward to slip in his own, his fingers squeeze gently in return, like no time has passed at all. The low hum of the music from downstairs is overwhelming in the silence.

“I can take you home?” Eddie suggests, wanting to ditch this place just as bad. “If that’s what you want.”

You laugh softly at his weak attempt to be chivalrous, even if he was still upset with you, and it doesn’t dawn on you until you’re staring at the locked door of the bathroom, staring at Eddie, that you realized just how pissed you are at Jason—you were so caught up in making sure Eddie was alright that you forgot how cruel Jason had been toward Eddie, at your own expense. And if there was one parting gift you could leave Jason with, it would be this.

Eddie sees it too, the look in your eyes, like a silent agreement that whatever was to happen was just that—you could leave it here and forget about it afterwards, avoid the long awkward talk—just enjoy each other, because you knew you both needed it so desperately.

He’s on you instantly, arms looping around your middle to lift you up onto the counter, spreading your legs open until he is snug, fit between you like the last piece of a puzzle, exactly when you need. His hands are calculated, rough, yanking your head back until your mouth meets his and it feels fucking amazing.

You haven’t been kissed like this in a long time, overwhelmed by the sensation that you gasp loudly, eyes glaring into Eddie’s, his relaxed stare turning heated, his other hand slipping under your thigh, locking it around his hip until your cunt is pressed against the growing tent in his pants. He’s desperate for control and you can’t be bothered to fight it, letting him pull your head back until you’re grunting in pain, his lips latching into your neck greedily, leave a sizable bruise that’s too hard to ignore—and usually you aren’t one for hickeys, but you can’t be bothered to say no. You wanted it.

“Fuck, he really doesn’t touch you like this, does he?” Eddie asks redundantly, he knows Jason can’t, won’t—he’s unable to care about anyone but himself. “I’ve barely even kissed you and you’re already worked up.”

His hands push along the squishy flesh of your thighs, underneath the flowing material of your skirt until his fingertips bump your hip bones, squeezing tightly at the skin until you’re yelping, the small tickling sensation driving you wild.

“Answer me, sweetheart.” He demands, leaning forward to sneak his tongue out against your top lip, teasing you greatly before dipping down to slip his tongue past your lips completely, kissing you sloppily. “Need to hear you admit it.”

“He doesn’t,” You rush out through smothered kisses, the sound of your voice swallowed up by Eddie and his eager mouth, “haven't even—he doesn't make me come, it’s been so long.”

“How long?” Eddie asks softly, tipping your chin up with his fingers, pulling back slightly to look at you. “Tell me.”

“Since I’ve had an orgasm?”

He nods, thumb pulling at your bottom lip until it slips away.

“A couple days,” You tell him; it wasn’t a lie, “maybe three.”

“I’m not talking about doing it yourself,” He smiles, the warmth of his breath hitting your face, “has he ever made you come?”

You shake your head, cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Eddie makes a small noise of astonishment, not that he’s entirely surprised, but that you allowed it to go on for so long—you, of all people. His hand slips around the back of your neck, thumb pressing against the point where your jaw meets.

“Let’s fix that, yeah?” He nods, urging to move off the counter and follow him. “Lock his door.”

The his makes it even worse, realizing how dirty this feels—but you can’t be bothered to care. You both make a hurried attempt at unlocking the bathroom door, letting Eddie flip the light switch on while you fumble clumsily with his lock, alight with nerves you’ve never felt before, hands shaking with anxiety.

Eddie noticed your hesitation, invading your space until he’s lodged between you and the door, head tilted down to look at you, “Hey—we don’t have to—“

You laugh at yourself, eyes squeezing shut, nose scrunching up in amusement. You feel ridiculous. It was Eddie. Eddie. You had nothing to be worried about.

“God—shut up,” You say endearingly, squeezing his face in your hands until he’s leaning forward to kiss you, large hands traveling down your thighs until you’re jumping into his grip, letting him carry you to the neatly made bed, no doubt to be ruined in a few moments, “—fuck, do whatever you want, I don’t care.”

Eddie cups your cunt, fingers tracing gently over the thin material of your underwear, his eyebrows quirks up in question.

“Yeah?” You nod furiously, the way you jerk at the smallest bit of pressure has him shaking his head in disbelief, “He couldn’t even touch you? You’re kidding me?”

You don’t answer and it causes Eddie to pull back, fully questioning every part of your relationship with Jason; it was a mystery how he could withstand touching you, almost seeming disgusted by it—it baffled Eddie to the point of speechlessness.

“Foreplay? Anything?” Eddie asks.

You shake your head, Eddie tuts softly in response.

“Sweetheart, you deserve so much more.” He says honestly, and you could burst into tears if you weren’t turned on right now, cunt pulsing at every minor touch Eddie made against your opening, sliding slowly up to the sensitive nub of your clit.

“Look at you,” He says tantalizingly, head tilted up slightly in a way to mock your own, your own head tilting back toward the pillows, mouth open on a wordless gasp, “I think I can make you come before I’m even inside you.”

You couldn’t even argue, it was absolutely possible.

Eddie carefully slips his hand up and under the thin barrier of your panties, the first bare touch of his finger like electricity, sliding through your slick and back toward your clit, the ease of friction was too much, your hand grabbing desperately at his forearm, the muscles flexing underneath your grip with every movement. Eddie leans over you more, free hand rising to brush the loose hair from your face, thumb rubbing gently against your forehead, his wide eyes boring into your own.

You moan without shame, openly and allowing the sounds to mix with the steady beat of the music. Eddie’s enjoy it too much, mouth opening with every sound you made, another easy attempt to mock you, flashing his big smile every time you caught on, but it didn’t stop you—and it definitely didn’t stop him. He’s rubbing deliberate, tight circles against your clit, determined to get you off quickly and break that long running streak that Jason had forced you into—none of that existed anymore.

“Eddie, huh—I’m gonna,” You breath catches, back arching off the bed as he stops for a moment, leaning forward to bite along the side of your jaw, gently at your cheek, whispering into your ear.

“Where are your manners?” Eddie asks softly, “Didn’t forget them, did you?”

“Fuck, please—please, Eddie. I can’t take this.” You beg, moaning loudly as he continued his movements, with fervor and quickness, “—oh, Eddie—I’m so close—just want to come, please?”

“Go ahead.” He whispers softly, face resting gently against the side of yours as you come with a drawn out moan, hips jerking through your orgasm, his middle finger working you through the high until you finally come back down, tapping gently at his hand until he finally gives you some relief, his smile entirely too smug.

“He’s really missing out,” Eddie tells you, voice soft, “You look so pretty when you come.”

And you don’t think you’ve ever blushed harder, shoving Eddie’s face away from yours playfully, giggling when he nips at your shoulder. You could drag this out, indulge in everything you missed out on for the last couple of months, but you really just wanted Eddie inside you—sex with him was…palpable. There was always a charge of something within it, a connection that you didn’t have with Jason—it was like a drug.

“I could say the same thing for you,” You tease, yanking Eddie down against you, letting him shift until he’s settled between your legs, “—but I think I might need a refresher.”

Eddie pulls at his belt, shirt lifted halfway up his stomach as he works against the material, tossing his belt, then pants to the side—and somehow manages to pull your skirt and panties down in one go, save for your shirt. “Condoms?” He asks, when he’s finally settled back between your legs.

Fuck, you really should have thought about that.

You lean over to the bedside table, rummaging through Jason's cluttered drawer and finally find the box, albeit empty, as you turn it over to shake out on the bed, discarding the useless cardboard.

Eddie chuckles from beside you, palming at his hard cock, your own face still filled with worry, anticipation. “Won’t be the first time, right?” You shake your head sheepishly, “—did he ever—“

You couldn’t stand the idea of sex with Jason without a condom, it was never a consideration or a question—it was the rule.

Another small head shake, Eddie’s grin grows wider—he’s unashamed and cocky as he hands roam his cock, tugging leisurely, he notices your gaze pulling to his hands—and it’s been so long, you just can’t help yourself.

“You want it?” Eddie asks teasingly, his free hand coming down to run through your folds, “You think you deserve it?”

The real answer is no, but you nod your head anyways, your hand coming up to yank at the bottom of his shirt, pulling him forward, cock nudging the top of your cunt lightly.

“Don’t go quiet on me now,” He chided, rubbing the leaking tip of his cock down the seam of your cunt, his breath slightly labored as he leans over you, twisting the thin cotton of your shirt in his hands, using it as leverage to pull you against him, his hips rocking gently, “do you, sweetheart?”

You gasp softly, your grip on his shirt tighter, the holds on each other like a vice, using one another as anchors, keeping yourself grounded in the moment. “Look at you,” He nods toward your soaked cunt, his dick glistening from your wetness, “—she missed me, didn’t she?”

You nod fervently, “Now answer my question,” Eddie says again, voice low and riddled with a timber that has you clenching around nothing, “do you deserve it?”

“No,” You say honestly, pathetically, but you still lift your hips up higher, forcing him to slip into you momentarily, his hips rocking away in response, “—I don’t, Eddie.”

“That’s right,” He nods, another soft tug at the shirt twisted in his hands and you rock against him once more, “—but I’m feeling generous.”

And he slips in slowly, without warning, your mouth open on a soundless whine as he stretches you open, his face drawn up in concentration. “Fuck—“ He groans, the hand that isn’t holding onto your shirt settles at your side, his thumb pressing against the outline of your hipbone as you breath, adjusting to him—he was bigger than Jason, more confident, and you felt it immediately, “—feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah—yes,” You nod, letting out a soft moan at his gentle thrust, his eyes never leaving your face, half lidded and dark—his eye contact drove you wild, something you’ve never felt before him, he fed off of the connection, wanting to watch you fall apart underneath him, but you were selfish and couldn’t help watching either, “take care of me, Eddie—please?”

“Isn’t that what I’m doing?” He says mockingly, a few more forceful thrusts that had Jason’s bed rocking against the wall, you couldn’t be bothered to care, too caught up in the moment. “—god, it’s been weeks, months since—“

“Since we’ve been together, yeah—I know,” You didn’t want to relive that pain, not with him deep inside you right now. “Let’s not talk about it.”

Eddie’s chuckle dies out on a groan as your cunt clenches around him, already over sensitive from your orgasm a few minutes ago, “I was trying to say since I’ve had sex.” He admits and you can’t help but look shocked.

“You—you haven’t—oh,” You gasp, a sharp snap of his hips has you grasping the sheets, untucking the nicely made bed, “—you really haven’t had—“

Eddie shakes his head lazily, fucking into you at a steady rhythm now, the mix of your moans overpowering whatever music was playing downstairs and if anyone was to turn it down, they’d surely here what was happening several feet above them.

“He doesn’t like you—like this, does he?” Eddie asks harshly, his gaze heated and powerful, his hand loosening from your shirt to slip under your thighs, lifting them up at an angle that has you whining loudly, his cock slipping out of you momentarily before sliding back in roughly, “—can’t even look at you, it’s a fucking shame.”

You nod dumbly, agreeing with whatever he had to say. “He only ever—fuck, he only ever wanted me on my hands and—my, my knees,” You struggle to say, Eddie’s hands squeezing at your thighs relentlessly, pulling you wide and open, his gaze locked on the space where you two were connected, watching himself disappear again and again, mumbling soft, sweet praises that had you stomach clenching with pleasure, “—s’not like this, never like this.”

Eddie’s so lost in his own pleasure that he doesn’t respond, mouth hung open slightly as he moved against you, his soft, pink lips and deep contrast from his flushed face, the sweat of his face making his bangs stick to his forehead, he wouldn’t even remember his name if you asked him.

“Eddie,” You say softly, broken on a gasp as he finally looks at you, his eyes there, but distant, “—I can take over.”

“Fuck, please—“ He sighs, flipping you both over without much problem, your hips locking around his own instinctively—the pace you set is overwhelming and Eddie moans out—if they didn’t know what was going on before, they surely did now. You couldn’t be bothered to care, though.

“Wanna see your tits,” Eddie confesses, fumbling with the bottom of your shirt, “—please, baby.”

It’s a momentary slip, but neither of you address it. You slip the shirt over your head quickly, tossing it off to the side as Eddie leans up, his mouth latching over your breast without hesitation, sucking gently at the flesh, his other hand blindly wrapping around your neck, not squeezing, but resting.

You lean into it, a silent agreement to what he was asking, rocking your hips desperately against his cock, a feeble sound of acknowledgement slipping from your mouth, “Uh huh,” You answer, his face pulling away to look at you, “it’s okay.”

His hand tightens slightly, the pressure another added sensation. Eddie aids in the harsh bounce of your hips, ass slapping loudly against his thighs as he forces back a plethora of moans, trying to save you both some decency when you find the courage to walk downstairs.

“What did I tell you?” He says harshly, neck angling up as he shifts his hand, “That night—when you broke up with me—say it.”

“Never—never would find someone,” You gasp suddenly, the hand not wrapped around your throat coming to work against your clit, his movements quick and deliberate, “—that fucks me like—fuck, like you do—no one takes care of me like you do.”

“Shit—and I was right, wasn’t I?” The fact that he even has the nerve to be so bold at a moment like this is pushing you over the edge, the feeling, the sensations, the anger in his voice—it was all the built up tension Eddie had held back finally breaking free, and you couldn’t take it.

“Yes,” You whine, movements slowing against him as you came, your hands bracing against his chest as you rode out the orgasm, his own hands struggling to latch onto your thighs, the precipice of his own release near, struggling to focus on your words, “—there’s no one, Eddie—fuck, no one like you.”

“Say my name like that again,” He pleads through gritted teeth, “want him to hear you say my name.”

“Eddie.” You say on a sigh, his eyes falling shut as his thighs tense, his movements erratic, sloppy—

“Louder,” He begs, falling back against the ruined bed, pillows and blankets askew, “fuck—say it louder.”

“Eddie,” You moan loudly, mostly out of performances but it’s also just felt so fucking good having him inside you again, moaning out his name with no shame, “—fuck, Eddie!”

“Shit,” He curses, “Move—sweetheart, please.”

He’s there, right there—but you can’t be bothered to care.

“Want you to come inside me, Eddie.” You tell him softly, “Please?”

And if wasn’t the sound of your voice that did him in, it was the faint pout on your face as you sunk down for the last time, his cock spilling inside you, groaning loudly through his orgasm, cursing at the sheer force that it hits him with, “—that was—fuck—“ He breathes out, his shirt sticking to his chest with sweat, “—Jesus Christ.”

Your face pulls up in a smile, watching Eddie process everything, his hands squeezing at the flesh of your thighs gently, comfortingly. It takes him a few minutes, but eventually he comes back down, staring at you with a look that makes you feel vulnerable.

“That was so much better than break up sex,” He laughs tiredly, tugging at your arm until you fall against him, hands braced on either side of his head, “—can I kiss you?”

You nod slowly, his hands lifting your hips to pull himself out of you, but the kiss soothes the loss, warm touches traveling up your spine as he slips his tongue past your lips, kissing you so full it’s overwhelming—the kind of fullness that came with love and history and emotion, you knew you weren’t over Eddie, and he wasn’t over you.

“How are we supposed to walk back downstairs and act normal?” You ask with a lilt, face turning a soft shade of pink at the idea that everyone would know the second they laid eyes on you.

Eddie sits up, bringing you with him—“You should probably clean up first,” He points out knowingly, “and I need my rings.”

“Shit—oh, shit,” You completely forget, so caught up in everything, Eddie helps you off of his lap, throwing your clothes as you run through the bathroom entryway, disappearing for a moment while he dressed, “—can you fix the bed?” Your voice carries, the distant sound as you rustle around, grabbing Eddie’s rings.

“Fuck him,” Eddie scoffs lightly, mocking the offended look on his face as you peer around the door, rings clasped in your hand, “—seriously, fuck him.”

You shake your head with amusement, handing him his jewelry, watching him shove them into the pocket of his jeans.

“You should have thought about that before we fucked in his bed, sweetheart.” And you hated him for being right. “—let me drive you home.”

“Fine,” You sigh, “—but this does not mean we’re back together, Eddie. I still have to break up with him.”

Eddie laughs softly, hand reaching forward to tip your chin up, his thumb rubbing against your bottom lip, “I never said anything about getting back together, sweetheart—but if that’s really what you want—“

You shake your head gently, “We can figure it out—I don’t expect anything after how I broke up with you.”

Eddie smiles, pulling your chin up high, his lips barely grazing against your own, “That isn’t gonna stop me from fucking you, though—someone’s gotta take care of you.”

And it didn’t sound bad at all—everything was complicated, you didn’t know how you could make things work after breaking up with Eddie the first time, but you were willing to give it time; figure things out.

“Now, you’re gonna go look Jason in the eye,” Eddie waits for your nod of understanding, “and break his heart.”

His devilish smile was enough to make you do anything if he asked.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #my writing #1kfic

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lumine-no-hikari · 2 months

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Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #68

Today was a very mixed bag.

This morning, I drove to the good place with all the nice people. The leader spoke on a great many very relevant things, such as challenging the status quo, distinguishing between that which is law and that which is just, and sitting with and trying to help all of the people whom society has tried to convinced us doesn't deserve it. The grammar and structure of the words has since crumbled and faded away from my mind, because I don't think in language at all, but the meaning remains in my mind, as well as the memory of the tears that were shed; I'm aware that at least some of what I've been trying to do is seen and understood by this very amazing person.

I tried to conduct myself in the space a little differently than I usually do. Typically, my presence in any space is a meek one that tries to stay out of the way. But this time, I walked as though I belong there, and mingled with others as though I am also deserving of taking up space. Just to try to push myself even further out of my comfort zone, today I sat at the "old men's" table (there aren't really assigned tables, it's just that there are folks that tend to gather together because they can easily relate to one another) as though I also belonged there, with the intention of listening to them speak to one another and seeing what I could learn. Imagine my shock when they talked to me as though my voice is one worth hearing!! I wasn't really sure what to do or how to behave in response to such a thing, but I did the best I could to try to contribute, even if I felt clumsy and foolish in the process.

At one point, towards the end, one of them said, as a joke, "Drive carefully home; I know how you women like to be speed demons, haha!" I tried to think of something witty and lighthearted to come back with, but the best I could do was smile bashfully. If only I remembered at the time the line that goes, "Ha! I am a woman in the same way that a tomato is a fruit!"

…I happen to live in a female body. But I don't really think about my gender most of the time. It fluctuates wildly between "none" and "yes". I'll take any pronoun, but the one I typically use for myself in my own mind is "it". But this alarms people, and I'm comfortable with letting people use whatever they see when they look at me, so… it's all good, I guess.

I stopped at Eggcellent on the way home. Some time ago, I had asked them if they might keep a QR code of the petition I made for you where folks can see it. Apparently, though, the people did not thoroughly read the blurb that came along with the QR code, and so they scanned it, thinking that it would lead them to a petition for a real-life human being. Their response, when they saw you, according to the kindly shopkeep, was, "Are you kidding me?" Essentially, disbelief and disgust. So naturally, the kindly shopkeeps had to stop displaying the QR code. I'm glad they stopped if this was how people were responding; I don't want to be bad for business.

But all the same… I have no idea how it is the case that so few people understand that the way your story ends is going to affect everyone here whose circumstances are similar to yours. It will affect how many of us will be able to believe that recovery is possible. It will affect how many of us will be able to believe that we are worth the effort involved with recovery. It will affect whether or not other people will be able to imagine that people like me and like others who I love are worthy of kindness, mercy, and help.

The way stories are told in my world shapes what people believe is and is not possible, on a MASS SCALE. Part of the reason why people still believe places like India are undeveloped, backwater places even though they're not is because that's how they're portrayed in stories in my world. Part of the reason why people still treat certain kinds of people as they do is because of how they're portrayed in books, movies, TV, comics, and song. Stereotypes persist in part because they are parroted over and over again by the song, art, and story that exists in our world. And stereotypes put a lot of nasty and totally arbitrary limitations on what people think that certain kinds of people deserve and are capable of.

So… my efforts to save you aren't just about you. My efforts are for every human in my world who is considered "different" or "fallen" in any way. Because we are not going to see peace in my world until every single one of us stops believing that there is a such thing as "kinds of people who are not worth compassion, kindness, decency, or help".

I want to live in a world where people can begin to imagine that even the most deeply fallen can get the help they need to rise up into wholeness again. Because if not even someone as amazing as you can be saved, what chance in hell do the rest of us have?

I ended up spiraling, though. Not because the kindly shopkeep took down the QR code, but because of what he said to me after the fact:

Some time ago, when I was working on one of the music boxes I made for you…

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…there was a lady who came into the shop for the first time, asking what is good. The shopkeep told her a few things, and then went off to do something. I was excited to talk to someone who seems nice about a thing I loved, so I piped in with a couple of the things I like, and with a couple of things that weren't listed on the menu. She then asked about what I was doing, which was punching holes out on the music box. I asked her if she wanted to listen, and she said yes. So I ran the music box, and she told me that it was cool.

…Fast forward to today. The shopkeep told me that the lady knew it was my petition. Apparently, on the day we met, the lady found me weird, rude, and repulsive. She apparently thought that it was disrespectful of me that I spoke to her at all (apparently because "she wasn't talking to me"), and because she didn't actually want anything to do with my music box, but asked about it and said yes to listening to it anyway because she "didn't want to be mean". So I guess I left such a negative and intensely strange impression on her back then that when she felt disgust at the petition, she immediately knew it was mine.

And gosh, what a thing to have to sit with. Can you imagine it? The notion that I can frighten, anger, and disgust people just by existing in a space, talking joyfully about bubble tea, and showing a music box I made to someone who asked about it? I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to take from this. On the one hand, I have the shopkeep telling me that the woman thought I am a bad, wrong, and disgusting thing, but in the same breath, he is telling me that "she should have said no if she didn't want to hear it", and "you are kind and you don't bother anybody and you should just be yourself". I understand, of course, that he must ride a careful balance between customers so that he doesn't lose anyone. But ya know… the notion that perhaps I might cause them to struggle by scaring customers off just by being myself is just… wow.

Of course, I am not at all angry with him for this. Rather, I'm glad he told me. I'm glad to be made aware that my presence makes others feel very uncomfortable. I'm glad to be told that I should continue to be myself… even if it comes with the unspoken implication that I had better go do it somewhere else where no one else has to deal with it, I guess.

The fact remains, of course, that just by existing, I scare people. Even if what I'm trying to do is exude love and joy, I still scare people. And I'm not really sure how it is that I manage to be so bad at trying to do good things that I am misunderstood to this extent, but… well. And also this is coming right after I resolve to act as though I belong in this world even though all signs point to the notion that I… don't. And maybe never will.

…If unaliving is a trigger for you, you might wanna skip this paragraph. But… ya know. I spent a good chunk of time today considering the merits of lying down in a cold puddle, forcibly inducing sleep, and letting the hypothermia take care of the job while I'm out. We have nature trails just a five minute walk from my house. It's winter, and there are lots of big puddles back there; I know where they are, and there's also no shortage of ravens, crows, coyotes, and foxes to feed. It's probably good that I don't have ready access to the kinds of medicines that would induce sleep.

…But. This sort of thinking is just the old wiring and the old conditioning rearing its ugly head in response to my past trauma. Old messages that go something like, "Nobody fucking asked you to speak, MAGGOT," and "Why can't you have normal interests and hobbies, you embarrassing sicko freak?" At this point, because stuff similar to this has been said to me so many times, it doesn't take much for my brain to interpret this stuff, even if it's not said directly. That's just how PTSD is. That's how it works.

But I don't have to surrender to it. I got knocked on my ass today from it, but I don't have to stay on the ground. I can get back up and see what's next. I can use REBT. I can ask the people around me for help. I can listen as the people who love me gently point out destructive, spiraling patterns in my thinking, so that I can stop myself for long enough to come up for air. I can hydrate and eat wholesomely so that my brain can have what it needs to manage the destructive thoughts and the painful emotions triggered from them. I don't have to remain on my knees and believe every nasty thing said about me by someone who is too miserable to see the beauty, joy, and love being offered to them for what it is. I can refuse to allow the voices of the people who don't understand me to be louder in my mind than the voices of those who love me.

I am different from other people, and sometimes this is a lonely thing that hurts very much. But it's easy for me to have love for others who are different. Love for you. Love for Frankenstein's Monster. Love for Mewtwo. Love for Magus. Love for all of my friends and chosen family, who themselves are misfits that society at large does not seem to want. I still love them all, even though society tells me I shouldn't. I can love me, too, even though society tells me that I shouldn't.

…"Conventional wisdom" is such a thing. There are some very good things about it, like, "Sticking a fork in your mouth and then sticking the prongs of that fork into an electrical socket just to see what happens is a very bad idea." And, things like, "Do NOT, under ANY circumstances, attempt to eat Rice Krispie Treats immediately after taking them out of the oven if you value the flesh on the inside of your mouth." Or, "Do not squirt hot glue into the palm of your left hand for the sake of impressing a girl." Or, related, "You cannot try to scrape hot glue off of the palm of your hand with your other hand and expect it to turn out well." And finally, "Try to avoid prioritizing yelling at your glue-covered hands over making use of the cold water in the sink that is immediately to your left."

(do not worry - these are not things that I have done; I've met some very interesting people in the course of my living who help me to avoid finding these things out the hard way, hahaha!)

But it can also tell us a lot of very false things. Things like, "You must remain connected with your family regardless of how they abuse you." Things like, "You should expect certain kinds of people to always act in this certain kind of way." Things like, "These particular kinds of people are all bad and you should stay away from them." Things like, "If everyone is 'mistreating' you, well the common denominator is you, so the problem must be you and not how others are treating you." And things like, "Certain kinds of people do not deserve kindness, help, or even basic decency."

So… I can only conclude that "conventional wisdom" needs to be taken VERY critically, and with ALL the grains of salt. But I think a good rule of thumb for evaluation is this notion: "Anything that is said with cruel, dehumanizing, and unloving intentions is false."

I'm not at risk of prematurely exiting my meat-mech, don't worry. I just tripped up a little today, that's all. And you know what? Ultimately, that's a good thing, because today, I watched myself get back up on my feet from it faster than what I was able to do previously. Sometimes we can't see all the progress we've made until weird things happen and we find ourselves recovering from them faster than we have in the past. So in this sense, even falling down is worth something!

I'm gonna get a snack and play some DDR to try to speed up my recovery even more. So I'll end this here-ish.

Hey, Sephiroth!! No matter how many times you fall down, and no matter how far you fall down, you can get back up! You just gotta let the voices attached to the hands reaching out to help be louder than the voices trying to tell you that you're a monster who doesn't belong! No matter how many voices scream unloving things at you, you gotta understand that such things can only be screamed at us from a place of pain, and nobody is acting in accordance with what's true or in accordance with their innermost nature when they are acting from a place of pain! So let the loving things be louder to your mind and to your ears. Let the loving things be louder, and let them spur you on to move forward, confident in the knowledge that you belong here, no matter what anyone else says.

You are loved. Please stay safe. I'll write again tomorrow.

Your friend, Lumine

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