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gxtfictx · 20 hours

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52 pick up - Emily Prentiss x Fem!reader

Summary: So basically this is a Emily x reader one shot based on ep 4x9 because I really wanted to read one but I could not find ANYTHING so I guess I had to write it myself *sighs*

TW: spoilers for 4x09, Fem!reader, (very poorly written) smut, mutual masturbation, fingering (this might be so bad I’m sorry in advance if it is) I think that’s it but let me know if I miss anything

A/n: very new fanfic writer so please be gentle and any feedback is appreciated 🙏 English is not my first language so sorry for the possible mistakes

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“we need to study his style up close and personal. It’s gonna take someone that he’s already attracted to” Spencer says, raising his eyebrows in a suggestive tone, soon enough, Morgan and Hotch are also looking at Emily, and you are too, only to realize what they’re trying to say

“oh… oh this is really gonna suck” Emily complains when she realizes she’s the one who will have to approach Viper.

You really didn’t like this idea. You weren’t obviously happy to let your girlfriend get in the line just to be approached by that same asshole who had already been extremely inappropriate to her, objectifying her, suggesting he could “make her do whatever he wanted”. Only if he knew if there was anybody in the world capable of making Emily Prentiss do anything was you.

All of that was true, but why was also true, and you wouldn’t admit, was how unreasonably jealous that thought made you.

You knew for sure Emily would never cheat on you, or do anything to deliberately hurt you in any way, and there was also the fact that she was a lesbian, so there is no way she would be attracted to that guy in any way, however it did make you feel jealous, just the idea of your beautiful, sexy girlfriend walking into that bar, as a literal decoy, her, all dressed up as any other night she would do, to go out with you and the rest for a BAU party night, but instead getting there by herself just with the aim to be eye-fucked by that disgusting misogynist of a man.

“ok but you’re not going by yourself, I’m going with you. It could be more effective is we approach him as a couple, isn’t that what our unsub has been doing anyway?”

You wait for your boss’ response, he frowns as he considers the idea

“You’re right, it could be more effective that way. Go get ready” He finally admits, and you go get your go bag

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You enter the room while Emily is already changing in, opening the door slightly just to take a peek so you can surprise her. She is already unbuttoning her work shirt.

“would you like me to finish that for you?”

You ask her, a she startles

“jeez y/n! you scared me, I didn’t know you were there!”

“Sorry, honey” you say as you enter the room and close it behind you

“are you excited to go clubbing or are you mad that I offered to go with you? I just really hated the idea of you approaching that asshole by yourself” you walk up to her, surrounding her waist with your arms, resting your hands on her sides, softly caressing the skin there

“yes…well about that” she surrounds your neck with her arms, twirling little strands of your hair with her fingers there

“you actually got mad?”

“no, no it’s not that… Hotch just came in and we talked about Jordan, and I kind of suggested she came with me”

“so basically I’m not going?”

“it’s just…she’s really trying hard to be a part of the team, and I can’t help it”

“you see yourself in her? Ems…” you knew how good she meant but you couldn’t help to think that she was being too nice to her, plus you weren’t so sure you liked Jordan that much. Maybe it was because you missed JJ, or maybe you just didn’t really like the way she looked at her sometimes.

“I just don’t want her to feel left alone now”

“I know, baby and I love you for that, but you were not like her, you did your best ever since the first day, you never needed to prove yourself by lying or anything like that

“Yes, but I did feel very left out at times, and I will never forget how comforted it made me feel that you included me and asked me for help at times”

“yes, but that was because I was trying to get in your pants” she laughs and closes her eyes slightly as in “I can’t believe you’re saying that” way.

It’s sometimes surprising how shy Emily can get specially considering her confidence in the bedroom, and also how she would slip some suggestive comments about your relationship in front of the team from time to time mostly to surprise them, but you loved both sides of her, and you though her shyness was adorable, so you laugh with her.

“I know it’s important for you, and it’s just so cute how you want to help her, so I’ll forget about it and just stick with Morgan and Reid, but if he touches you, remember I’m armed.”

She smiles, softly, looking at your lips, and she kisses you softly, and you gently kiss her back.

“I promise I’ll compensate you”

“I will hold you on for that one”

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It can feel strange to be dressed in your casual work clothes in the middle of a bar but there you are, handing in flyers with Morgan and Reid, you can’t help but to look among all the faces trying to find Emily, completely aware of how bad this could affect her cover, but you can’t help it.

She should be here already, what’s taking her so long?

Someone is suddenly standing behind you, you turn hopeful to see Emily but disappointed to see it’s just Morgan

“is pretty girl looking for her girlfriend?” he teases you

“shouldn't they be here already?” You ask him, ignoring the teasing

“relax beautiful, or you’re gonna blow up their cover, and even Pretty boy here has handed in more flyers than you, don’t get so distracted” he advices you, but you don’t really listen, you just keep walking around until you catch a glimpse of someone standing on a table, you can instantly recognize Emily, wearing a beautiful black dress that hugged her curves perfectly, accentuating her breasts and making her look more beautiful if that was even possible already.

Almost immediately you can see Viper approaching her, he looks so confident in his “alpha male” appearance but you’re certain it will take Emily mere seconds to destroy him.

Then Jordan arrives, she has also dressed up for the occasion but she doesn’t look nearly as hot as your girlfriend. They both engage in a conversation with Viper, visibly suggestive. At the beginning you can tell his confident, he has done this a million times, but as time passes, and the conversation goes on, every time one of her talks he also gets more and more insecure.

You observe how Emily teases him, at one point she gets so close to his mouth you actually believe he’s going to kiss her but she just laughs it off and his body language changes again.

Looking at your beautiful girlfriend interacting in this way from afar was making you feel more and more aroused it even embarrassed you that it was turning you on, but you couldn’t help it. I mean, how could you when she just looked like that? You couldn’t even blame yourself every time you looked at her mouth and how her lipstick suited her perfectly.

Everything happens quicker than you thought, first thing you notice is how their face expressions change, and suddenly they’re walking away, leaving Viper there, and picking up the phone probably to call Hotch. You look for Morgan and Reid and tell them it’s time to leave.

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Back at the precinct you catch Emily when she’s entering the changing room again, you check that Jordan isn’t inside too, and get in with her.

“you look… wow” it’s the first thing you say to her. She’s looking straight at you, with a smile on her face, hinting she probably has something in mind for you

“you liked it?”

“Em, you look so beautiful”

“I could see you there in the back you know?” she grabs you by the waist, gently pushing your back against the lockers, you surround her with your arms for support, she keeps talking seductively, with her face so close you yours that your lips could crush if you just moved a bit closer. Instead you both just remain there, as Emily talks, just millimeters away from kissing

“really?” you ask, it’s a stupid question but you’re too surprised to say something coherent right now.

“really, yeah, you were practically drooling, was I doing that to you baby? “

“yes, god Emily yes”

She closes the space between us, her lips crashing against yours, practically devouring you, softly, full of lust.

Emily’s kisses were like that, no matter how much they lasted she always left you wanting more.

Her hands pull your waist to hers, grabbing your flesh desperately, anywhere she could find it. You run your finger through her soft black curls. Her tongue finds yours in a matter of seconds and suddenly the kiss turns into something bigger, her hands travel down to find your ass giving it a gentle squeeze because you know how much I love that she grabs your ass and how much it turns you on

You hear a knock on the door interrupting the scene, and you fly away from each other in less than a second

“Come in!” Emily just says a bit too loud. Her cheeks are red, and when Jordan enters she notices

“sorry, am I interrupting something?” she says, but it’s not a real apology

“no, sorry I was already leaving” you reply maybe a little too fast, and with one last look to Emily, you leave.

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After a case is closed you always feel like an eternity has passed. You are way so tired you can barely stand anymore, but at least you’re glad you got there in time to save the last woman the unsub had taken before something horrible happened to her.

You enter your hotel room, the one you shared with Emily. You started sharing rooms during cases after you made your relationship public, Hotch thought it was for the better since you wouldn’t be sneaking out of your rooms every night, and technically you were saving money.

“my feet are killing me, maybe those heels weren’t such a great idea as I thought” she sits on the bed, and you help her take her shoes off

“if I remember correctly, you had promised something to me” she grabs you by the waist, getting you closer to her, looking up from where she’s sitting

She simply smiles, looking up at you

“you know me. Im a woman of my word” she starts unzipping your pants, pulling them off your legs, she leaves a little kiss right on top of your underwear, she grabs them and pulls them down just like she did with your pants.

You start unbuttoning your shirt, and she does the same thing, but before she can finish you interrupt her

“you’ve undressed many times today already, let me be the one who takes you clothes off now” you move to sit next to her and you take her shirt off, then to unzipping her pants. It doesn’t take muck more for Emily to take the lead. She pushes you down so your back is laying flat on the bed, just to finish unbuttoning your shirt and opening it to discover you’re not wearing a bra underneath

“look at what we have here!” she teases you

“you look beautiful like this baby, did you enjoy the little act on the bar today? Because I think it turned you on, you couldn’t take your eyes off of me could you?” she says positioning herself on top of you, straddling you, lowering her face to kiss your cheek, then your neck, leaving soft and wet kisses all over your jaw.

“Yes, Em god yes” you say completely out of breath

“was my baby jealous?” she asks, alternating kisses between words

“I was” you admit, completely at her mercy, and very turned on by how her fingers trace all around your stomach, your chest, how she whispers in your ear and kisses everywhere she can reach.

“you’re mine, baby” she whispers in your ear, and moves to bite of on your earlobe

“I’m yours” you answer, and you can feel her smile forming on her lips against the tender skin right behind your jaw where she was kissing you

She started her trip down your body, leaving wet kisses all along your skin, stopping suddenly when she reached the hemline of your underwear. She put her hair between her ears and instead of going on to where you wanted her, she began kissing her way up your thighs, nipping the sensitive skin there which you were sure will leave small purple marks tomorrow that you were too ashamed to admit you loved carrying with your for the whom day, watching them on your own reflection on the mirror, tracing with your fingers the same path her lips had made hours ago.

She reached closer to your centre, lingering right where your thighs ended and met the elastic on your underwear. This had you bucking up your waist to her face, which caused a giggle from her

“someone’s eager”

“Em you’ve teased me enough already, just please” you say out of breath, begging her to get where you wanted her the most

“I can’t say no to you” she kisses you right in the middle of your underwear, the sudden contact making you moan in pleasure

“Fuck. Em” your hands practically flew to wrap your fingers between her hair.

She uses her own mouth to lower your underwear with her teeth, and taking them all the way off using her right hand, the other one never leaving its place. Other times Emily would simply move your underwear enough to get exactly what she wanted, but tonight she needed you naked, nothing more than you on her head.

Before you could complain on her slow pace, her lips crashed against yours, she moaned in your mouth and you did the same, simultaneously she cupped you, a slight cry in pleasure leaving your lips

“Emily please, just ple-“ Emily cut you off by burying two fingers inside you, the sudden pleasure causing a long, loud moan escape your lips.

You were both always so vocal about your time together even when staying at hotels, so you could count that Morgan would be teasing you about it tomorrow since he was the one sharing a wall with you. But you could not be bothered.

“Am I hurting you?” She asked with genuine concern on her eyes.

“No, it’s perfect just don’t stop” she smiled against your lips. You decided to take advantage of the situation, and moved the one hand that wasn’t wrapped on her hair, to meet her centre, and gently run your finger through her.

“Fuck. Don’t stop” she breathed before kissing you again.

She continued to move her fingers inside of you and you met each thrust but you almost fell apart when she pressed her thumb against your clit and rubbed

One last hard press against it had you coming undone, Emily let you ride your orgasm, although it doesn’t take her long to reach her high as well and she comes apart collapsing on top of you.

The heavy breaths filled the silent room, you caressed her hair, and she gave you a last peck on the lips before getting off of you, moving so you could face each other, she wraps her arm around your waist and brings you as close to her as possible.

“I couldn’t stand the way she was looking at you today” you admit

“How she looked at me? Don’t you mean he?” She asks

“I mean both of them, Viper and Jordan”

“Oh c’mon, you’re not being serious” she laughs it off

“I’m serious, I really think she’s into you”

“You’re not even jealous anymore, you are being completely unreasonable now”

“Ok, whatever you say, just remember, my gay radar never fails” you tell her to make her laugh, but you’re not totally joking

“Just so you know, Viper was right. I did have someone in my mind”

“Oh? And who might that be?” You say teasingly

“Try and guess” she says, going for another kiss that you reciprocate with a big smile on your lips.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:

#wlw #lesbian #lesbian pride #wlw fanfic #wlw smut #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #Emily Prentiss #Emily Prentiss x reader #Emily Prentiss x you #criminal minds x reader #Emily Prentiss imagine #Emily Prentiss wlw #emily prentiss lesbian #bisexual reader #cm 4x09 #criminal minds 4x09 #cm 52 pickup

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sexynetra · 6 months

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Olivia Lux is collecting selfies with my favorite queens tonight like they’re fucking infinity stones

#sated only by the knowledge that she cannot get Marcia and Robin because that would be the ultimate KO #also if you haven’t wished Robin a happy birthday may I wish you a happy go die???? that’s my baby that’s my girl #anyways I love all these bitches #and this may be sacrilegious to say especially with me being who I am #Olivia might be the prettiest???#she’s just. so stunning #her face card is crazy #my mom saw a few eps of s13 last week and was like pointing at her going that one with the high cheekbones and perfect smile?#she doesn’t even need to do anything to be beautiful #she’s stunning #and mom was so right #mom is always right when she calls queens hot #I don’t remember the context but she recently pointed out a very hot person and went wow they’re beautiful they look like Sasha Colby #and I went gag that’s such a high compliment #anyways Anetra u look stunning #Sasha love the hair #and Jackie out of drag I know I’m a lesbian but I’m in love with you for real for real #drag race #rpdr #RuPaul’s drag race #anetra #Sasha Colby #Jackie cox #Olivia lux

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phddyke · 3 months

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Hazbin Hotel is actually healing my inner ex-Christian so hard.

No joke, I nearly started cheering when Lute called Charlie and Vaggie’s love “vile and blasphemous” (and then burst out laughing when Adam immediately followed it up with “Hot as fuck though”). I know that may sound weird considering that I am, in fact, a lesbian, but here me out:

Seeing Christians being explicitly homophobic onscreen? It validates me. It makes me think “Oh yeah, I’m not crazy, Christians are that hateful!” And, call me crazy, but I think homophobia being tied in with villainy is a good thing. Neither Adam or Lute are supposed to be good people; they are very obviously the villain, and that establishes their behavior as bad. Someone on Twitter said that Lute gave them religious fanatic vibes and I couldn’t agree more.

And here’s the thing, too: it’s explicit homophobia, not some dumb metaphor. There’s no way to take it as anything else. And I really need that. I need to see Christians being explicitly homophobic onscreen in the same way that other people need and create worlds where homophobia doesn’t exist.

But me? I want my pain and suffering acknowledged. I want the harm that Christianity does acknowledged. Homophobia is real and the religious kind doubly so. I related to Vaggie so much in that episode; I felt her trepidation about going back to Heaven. Felt like a good metaphor for escaping a fundamentalist church only to be forced to visit again.

And Viv is not afraid to explicitly point this out and criticize them. Like, yes! Say it! They are hypocrites! They don’t care about people being better, they only care about punishment! They maimed one of their own and left her to die because she spared a child! They’re homophobic freaks! They would never see the good that Angel does and how he’s improved and is wonderful, they only see that he’s a drug addict and a sex worker and think he’s worthless for that even though Jesus broke bread with sex workers and people considered the dregs of society. (And of course Angel is gay on top of that.)

And another thing: not only did the Adam line make me laugh, but the second homophobic Lute line about “he blew his shot like the cocks in his mouth” cracked me up too. It reminded me of the pilot where Katie Killjoy said “I don’t touch the gays” to Charlie, which is a line that made me laugh for 4+ years straight. When I told my brother that was the funniest homophobia I’d ever heard in media, he very wisely said, “All homophobia is funny if you think about it.” And you know what? He’s right. It is funny, because it’s so fundamentally goddamn stupid, so let’s give characters ridiculous lines so everyone can laugh at how idiotic they and their beliefs sound.

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residentinsomniacartist · 30 days

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wait wait wait guys have you ever thought about how the Mighty Nein are everything they shouldn’t be upon first glance

no no guys guys listen to me they’re all the antithesis of what they’re meant to be and that’s why they’re such amazing and heartfelt characters

like, Caleb is a wizard who’s afraid of his own fire magic. his own power causes him to falter in battle. his strongest spells are his most dangerous to himself. wizards are supposed to be prideful of their magic, but Caleb’s is the reason he hates himself

Beau is a monk who never wanted to be. her job is one that people normally associate with being calm and collected and Beau was a wild rebellious kid who got dragged into this line of work against her will. she never wanted to be this!! but now she is and she’s gotta deal with it!!

Fjord is a warlock who never wanted power from his pact, which is why you’d think a warlock would make their pact at all. but no. Fjord made his pact because he wanted to live, not because he wanted power. he was a scared orphan who hated his tusks, not a buff, muscled, angry half-orc like people assumed

Nott is NOT, that’s the whole crux of her narrative! she wasn’t pretty, like a halfling girl was supposed to be. she wasn’t a goblin, she was just transformed into one. and not only that, but despite being a three-foot-tall alcoholic kleptomaniac, she’s the mom of the group!

Jester is a Cleric whose god isn’t actually a god and who would much rather bash bad guys over the head with her lollipop than have to stop and heal her friends!! she’s a bubbly, optimistic ray-of-sunshine, but you know when she says she’s gonna change the world with friendship she means it as a threat

Mollymauk is an amnesiac, but he doesn’t want to remember who he was. if you ask him, that wasn’t him! he might be a flirtatious hedonistic carnie, but he’s also single-mindedly devoted to making the world a better and more loved place than it was when he found it. he’s a liar, but he means well. he’s an arrogant fool, yes, but he’s right! he did it! he left it better!

Caduceus seems like he’d be creepy and grim from growing up in a graveyard, but he’s actually the most chill out of the entire Nein by far. he’s calm, he’s sweet, and he’s comforting, more than anything else. you’d think he’d be amazed by seeing the outside world for the first time, but he spends the whole time knowing that one day he’ll return home, that he wasn’t supposed to be the one to leave

Yasha is a barbarian with skeletal wings and a dramatic, monochromatic look, but she’s a complete sweetheart. she’s Molly’s best friend, she was a carnival bouncer, she’s a lesbian disaster who collects pressed flowers in a book out of love for the wife she lost. those black wings were actually hiding soft white feathers

Essek was born straight into the den of politics, he was a spymaster, he literally started a war for his own gain, and yet. he’s sounds irredeemable on paper, but. he’s not!! sure, the Nein kind of have to drag his alignment kicking and screaming into neutral, but they manage it. Essek learns and grows and he overcomes his nature. he becomes good, against all odds

guys guys guys don’t you see it!! look at them!!they’re such compelling characters!! they’re everything they’re not supposed to be!! dude y’all how didn’t I realize this earlier!! they subvert their narratives in the most interesting ways ever and I justhshsbhshshsjnsmshsnhsfn!!

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mars-ipan · 2 years

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another important thing abt terfs that isn’t really talked about is the fact that we can’t really make it an “us versus them” situation. not only is that a bad idea in most conflicts, but it can create biases about who we think is “terfy”. a lesbian you don’t like isn’t a terf. not all lesbians in general are terfs. a white cishet feminist isn’t inherently a terf. things like that

#idk if i’m phrasing well but like #i get hesitant to be strongly feminist bc i don’t want to attract terfs to me #bc their feminism. isn’t feminist at all lmao #+ they’re racist and. well. transphobic #but i have to remember: terfs are a minority of feminists. most feminists are normal #actually lemme rephrase that. terfs /aren’t/ feminists. they’re insecure ppl who project their internalized misogyny (+ gender dysphoria-#-for a lot of them) onto other people #simultaneously doing acceptability politics and managing to piss literally everyone off #well. sorta. the right can use ‘em so they do #makes me sad :( but point is #a terf is a very specific kind of person. yes look out for warning signs if you’re suspicious #but calling themselves a feminist or being a lesbian does not a terf make #and to say so is not only incorrect and will not protect you #but is also harmful to regular feminists and lesbians- ESPECIALLY trans feminists and lesbians #obligatory terfs dni i hate ur guts #i might get some in my notes for putting the word terf in so much of this post #if you see one block and move on. not worth the effort #no hatescrolling either. is bad for you

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passionpeachy · 1 month

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Sorry if this is weird but I wanted to say it's so comforting to know that there are other lesbians in their mid-to-late 20s who haven't had their first kiss or anything. I know gay people in general tend to reach those milestones later than cishet people but I've always felt like I was way behind even my gay peers, and it has really put a dent in my sense of self-worth. So, you mentioning that you've never kissed anyone made me feel a little less alone. :) Love your art and hope you are doing well.

You should look at the concept of "your first kiss" less as a milestone you have to achieve at a certain age and more of an intimate thing that happens when YOU want to do it, if you even want to do it at all.

I have no idea what your situation is like, but personally I literally just haven't felt a super strong urge to kiss anyone near me here in this very South Texan city. People aren’t really “visibly” queer here with pride flags and stuff, including me. We’ve only had 2 small Pride parades before and that’s it. I'm sure this would eventually change if I lived somewhere more queer-friendly with more sapphics who were my specific type (butch and nonbinary lesbians are pretty much nonexistent here. I once got embarrassingly excited when I saw one(1) online who lived here. It’s like all the real attraction I’ve been deprived of all my life hit me like a truck. No, I’ve never talked to them lol)

......but I'm not saying the girls here aren't ever cute or anything. They’re beautiful actually. Mostly bisexual latinas. I've definitely had some gay moments here and there. It just wasn't enough to spiral into more than light flirting and a cheek kiss, I guess. There’s also the severity of insecurity and mental illness that makes one a homebody, but I don’t want to get into that right now.

So while I want it, I love the idea of it, I'm not really that ashamed about being inexperienced this late in life. Seems more common than people are willing to admit tbh. ANYWAY, I rambled too much. My point is you shouldn't tie this to your self-worth and don't let anyone, even other queer people, make you feel bad about it

#asks #and sorry I replied to this so late. was trying to find words to say….#and I’m glad you like my art and I could help you feel less alone

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riality-check · 10 months

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A continuation of this post. Part 3

ao3

As that long-haired guy walks away - his friend onstage called his name, but Steve didn’t catch it - Robin nudges Steve.

“Asshole roadies,” she says, sing-song.

“Get fucked,” Steve says with her.

It’s tradition, that little chant. Every gig, there’s always one venue where someone with far less experience says something. Steve knows he was blunt and probably shouldn’t have said anything with that tone, but after too many times, his patience is exhausted.

He can’t even blame the blunt thing on ASL. If anything, he’s meaner in English.

It makes sense. He knows English a lot better. He and Robin only started taking the ASL classes two years ago, when he really needed it. His left ear had been pretty much gone for a while (fuck you Billy Hargrove for putting ceramic in his scalp), but he sucked it up and started learning when his right ear started going, too.

Honestly, he has no idea what caused that.

Two years of ASL means he and Robin aren’t fluent yet. Not even close. But between that, his residual hearing, and the lip reading he’s relied on for longer, Steve does alright. If he wasn’t at a gig, he’d bring his hearing aids, but that’s a recipe for disaster and broken equipment.

Plus, he’s learned he can’t focus on his job when he hears as well as feels the music.

Robin taps his arm again. You good?

I’m good, he signs back.

They finish setting up before they grab a snack. The venue is pretty tiny, a standing room only place that serves pizza and a few drinks, and that’s it.

The pizza is really good though.

They finish up their slices before they go back to the booth. Robin is particular about not eating around the equipment, and Steve has long given up on fighting her.

Their jobs are pretty easy, in all honesty. The light cues are pre-written, and sound check was an hour ago. All Steve needs to do is hit the cues, and all Robin needs to do is adjust mic levels and turn them on and off as needed.

This leaves plenty of room for a healthy amount of fucking around.

As Robin, always on his right side, starts telling him a story about her friend’s ex’s (who is also her friend, because lesbians are just like that) latest date, Steve watches the crowd file in and nods along.

His mind, however, goes back to that guy. Someone always says something, and it’s always someone new to touring. Steve can just tell. All the rookies do the same thing; they look at the stage with wonder in their eyes. This guy was no different. Just some rookie giving Steve a problem, like always.

Except that this guy was different.

Rookies tended to want to prove themselves. They wanted to show off their fancy knowledge and make it clear that they belonged there along with everyone else who had a career. They wanted to catch Steve off guard, make him thank them for helping him out.

This guy didn’t do that. He was nosy and pushy and pretty and rambled a lot, but he wasn’t trying to be a dick. He was trying to look out for Steve, even if it was none of his business, even if he didn’t know him.

He ended up being a bit dickish, but he wasn’t trying to be. If Steve were a nicer person, he’d think that might count for something.

Steve is trying to be a nicer person, with emphasis on trying.

His watch vibrates, jolting him back to the moment. He lowers the lights, cueing the openers to go on.

The set list, along with Steve’s cues, is in in a binder between him and Robin, lit by a book light with a battery that’ll die at least twice, with their luck.

The first opener is a band Steve has never heard of called “Corroded Coffin.” If they’re any good, he might listen to their music.

Big emphasis on might because he’s not a big fan of metal. Punk has better bass lines, one that Steve likes to feel in his chest.

He hits the cue when they start their opening song, lighting them in reds and purples and-

Oh. Shit.

That guy wasn’t a roadie. He’s part of the opening band. He’s a guitarist.

A really good guitarist.

A really hot guitarist.

Steve is so caught up in stating that he nearly misses the next cue. He doesn’t, though. He’s a professional.

Robin elbows him, and he turns to see her signing. For one hopeful moment, he thinks she’s signing “hungry” and will offer to get them both more of that really good pizza like the wonderful friend she is.

But then she repeats the sign, again and again, and Steve smacks her before hitting the next cue.

“I am not horny!” he whispers, clearly loud enough for Robin to hear through her earplugs because she laughs.

You think he’s hot, she signs.

Steve rolls his eyes.

I’m right! she teases.

Steve faces away from her for the two seconds it takes for her to tug him back.

“Not fair,” she says, and Steve only gets it because it’s light enough to read her lips.

The band has gone through two songs, and the lead singer, a tall Black guy, is saying something to the crowd. Steve hears it just fine with all the mics, but understanding is too much of a struggle to bother.

He doesn’t really care anyway. He likes feeling the music and hearing it with what he has left (his audiologist said it won’t accelerate his hearing loss, so any hearing protection is a waste of money), not listening to whatever the bands have to talk about.

Anything important? he asks Robin.

She shakes her head.

Steve turns back to the stage in time to hit the next cue, casting the band in blue as the guitarist starts playing a really low intro.

Did you hear his name earlier? Steve asks.

Robin says something, but it gets lost in the music and the dim light.

“Hettie?” Steve asks aloud.

Robin shakes her head. Sorry.

She finger spells, messing up once and throwing it out with a wave of her hands.

“Eddie?”

She nods.

Steve hits the next cue and uses the rest of the time to appreciate the view. Eddie really is hot, in his dark jeans and tattered tank top, grin on his face and quick-moving fingers. And Steve has never had a chance to talk to the talent, even if they’re nosy.

But Eddie was nosy because he was worried. It would almost be sweet if it wasn’t so condescending.

He didn’t mean for it to be, the terrible little rational part of Steve’s brain pipes up. And he apologized. Multiple times.

The bigger part of his brain reminds him that it doesn’t matter what Eddie meant it as. Steve effectively tanked any hope when he snapped at him before the show.

Oh God.

He has to do a whole tour with this guy. Who he was a total dick to.

Yikes. At least he has Robin, who is-

Currently staring at him and signing “horny.”

Steve smacks her again, which she laughs at and returns instantly before they focus back on their jobs. They’re professionals, goddammit.

Professionals who are already on less than stellar terms with one of the openers.

He’s so not looking forward to the next few weeks.

Tag list (this is not a regular thing for me but it was manageable this time!): @just-a-tiny-void @weirdandabsurd42 @satan-is-obsessed @honeysucklesinger @coyotepup345 @gayafmermaid @thegingerrapunzel

#ria writes #steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #corroded coffin #hoh steve harrington #rockstar eddie munson #stranger things ficlet #stranger things #st #st ficlet #also squad don’t get used to tag listing #i’m very inconsistent with it #gi;pe au

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total-dxmure · 11 months

Text

✦ MARLEY AND ME →【ELLIE WILLIAMS】→ CHAPTER ONE

pairing: modern!ellie williams x single mom!reader

summary: you’re a single mom just doing the best that she can to make ends meet. ellie can’t help but think that you're the kindest, most beautiful girl that she’s ever met. compared to taking care a little girl that's in her terrible twos, coming to terms with the fact that you’re a lesbian is a walk in the park. awkward first encounters, ellie’s broken gay-dar, and her overwhelming urge to take care of the care-giver. . . the road to domesticity is a long one, but it’s well worth the pining that it takes to get there.

warnings: hella SMUT! in future chapters, eventual substance use, no use of y/n (you have nicknames/petnames), the reader is marley’s biological mother, talk of coming to terms with ones sexuality, mention of a shitty baby daddy ( though there is no co-parenting between them), ellie is a total girl mom, lots and lots of fluff, ellie is an anxious dork in this fic, reader is broke but happy, ellie takes pride in being a provider, this is going to be a multi-part fic, ellie is an absolute simp for the reader since chapter one and will remain her #1 fan.

⬶ previous chapter | next chapter ⤅

Ellie counts the tiny bite sized pieces that you cut the pancakes into. You’re meticulous about it, taking your time despite the impatient look on the little girl’s face. She also notices the fact that all the woman has ordered for herself is a cup of coffee. No cream, just sugar and caffeine.

The auburn haired girl, from across the restaurant, is trying not to be too obvious about her staring. She’s trying to find any wrinkles on your face that might clue her in about your age, but she finds none. Ellie decides that you couldn’t be too much older than she is, and if you are, it was only by a few years.

She walks back up to your table, noting that you still haven’t called her back over to order any food for yourself. Every once in a while she’ll watch as you bring your fingers up to your plush lips to lick off syrup. She watches your mouth intently as you speak, noticing the endearing way your lips pull up at the corners. You smile when you talk, no matter what Ellie says to you. The waitress decides that she likes that. She likes that a lot.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything? The food here is really great, I promise.” Ellie offers, already reaching down into her black apron so that she can scribble something down.

Your smile falters, the slight switch of emotion not going unnoticed. The baby across the seat tries to say something, but the young waitress can’t make any sense of it. It just sounds like babble to her. You, however, understand what the little girl is saying right away. You must be able to speak the ancient language of “toddler”.

“Those aren’t flowers, baby. They’re ferns. Can you say ‘fern’?” Your tone shifts ever so slightly, your eyes dazzling with pride.

It’s the way that you look at the little girl sitting in the highchair that makes Ellie weak in the knees. She’s never been the biggest fan of kids, but the tiny butterfly clips that were fastened in her hair and her great, big eyes nearly has Ellie falling to her knees. In fact- she does. She crouches down and holds out her right arm, assuming that the baby was trying to point out something about her tattoo.

Warm, sticky little hands reach out and brush against her skin. Ellie’s lips are twitching up into a wide smile before she can school her features back into neutrality. You’re too busy admiring Ellie now that she’s practically in your lap to notice your daughter getting all grabby. You try to tell yourself that you feel for the woman since she’s showing your daughter affection, but her green eyes and freckled nose has your heart pounding harder than you deem as healthy.

Your daughter tries to sound out the word, and as quickly as your gaze had been snagged by the gorgeous girl in front of you, it was on your daughter just as fast. Your eyes widen, chest swelling with pride.

“That’s it, Marley! Say it again, baby.”

Ellie looks up at you from where she’s crouching, and suddenly her fitted black shirt feels a little too tight. She feels as though she might just burst right out of it, her chest expanding to make room for her swelling heart. This entire time she had thought that the little girl had to be your baby sister, what with your young looking face and the wrinkled band t-shirt you were sporting, but now she understood that the girl was your daughter.

Quickly the woman searched your finger for a ring, not wanting to be drooling over a married woman, but didn’t see one. Whatever guilt had just struck was gone in the blink of an eye, like a flash of lightning. Ellie was often teased by her friends and co-workers about her bad luck with women. Any girl that she’d ever had a crush on in the past was either straight, disinterested, or already seeing someone.

She’d be lying if she said that she had ever been in a proper relationship. Most of it was just short lived pining, immediately followed by devastating disappointment.

Ellie can’t help but wonder how it might feel to be on the receiving end of those beautiful, pride filled eyes of yours. They were beaming with admiration, so much so that Ellie could feel the warmth of it from where she stood. You were like the sun, and the pull towards you was gravitational.

The restaurant was dead, aside from you and a few regulars that she saw on a weekly basis. She didn’t feel as guilty as she should have for neglecting the other customers.

“How old is she?” You watched as the woman stood up, stretching her athletically built body from side to side, her muscles tired from a long day spent on her feet. She noted the way you watched her, filing it away somewhere in her brain so that she could go home and properly go through the “gay checklist” before she made a fool of herself by hitting on you.

“Two,” You replied with a smile. You completely melted as far as your daughter was concerned. “It’s almost like I blinked and all of a sudden she was up walking and talking. Right now we’re learning our colors and shapes.” You shrugged, picking the fork back up so that you could feed her another piece of pancake.

The little girl, that Ellie now knows is named Marley, eagerly opened her mouth.

Your daughter was the kind of little girl that could easily be plastered all over magazines. She looked like a doll. Really, if you were standing far enough away, you could mistake her for one. Babies were usually drooly faces and loud screams, but not Marley. No, she was a perfectly mannered and happy baby. With big doe eyes that matched yours and a wide, tiny toothed smile.

“Well you and your boyfriend must be proud. She’s gorgeous.” She knew it was normal, polite even, for people to gush over babies. She wasn’t lying for the sake of being nice though. Marley really was perfect.

Ellie instantly shut her mouth, so hard that her teeth audibly clacked together when she noticed the way that you winced.

She felt like shit about it, but a small stab of hope pierced clean through her heart. She was in college, and pining after a woman with a kid probably wasn’t something that she should busy herself with, but she couldn’t pull herself away from you. A simple “ready for the bill” would have sufficed as far as conversations went, but she wanted to know about you.

Because really, you were hands down the most beautiful girl that Ellie had ever seen. Your perfection didn’t stop there though. You were nice, and not just in a conversational sense. You were radiant in the way that you spoke to others. The second that you had sat down, you’d cracked a joke with the elderly man two tables down. You probably felt bad about him sitting all by himself. She’d seen you smile at every single one of her coworkers that had walked past you. You even seemed upset to bother her and ask Ellie if she could put your daughter’s juice in a cup with a lid. And here you were, talking to the waitress like you had known her for years.

No one, not even Joel, could fault Ellie for being dangerously attracted to you. Maybe it was the fact that you had such a nurturing aura about you, but Ellie couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel to take care of you. She could tell by the light bags under your eyes, which you had skillfully tried to cover up with makeup, that you were a hard worker. Here you were, at a restaurant with a wide selection to choose from, only ordering food for your daughter. You were what Joel would call “a keeper”.

The inevitable moment of parting was coming though. Marley had devoured most of her flapjack, save for a few small bites that you were currently feeding her. That and your coffee mug was nearly empty. Ellie silently cursed herself for not filling it back up a few minutes ago. Maybe, if she had, you would have felt obligated to stay for a second longer. She reached into her pocket, placing the bill onto the table and taking a small step back.

“Here’s this, for whenever you’re ready. No rush.” Ellie held her hands up, taking another step back.

Much to her embarrassment, her hip banged against the side of the table that had been directly behind her. The wooden chair that had been underneath it scrapped loudly against the checkerboard tile, causing a few heads to turn and look at her. And of course, knowing her luck, you had seen and heard it all.

‘Smooth, Ellie.’ She thought wryly to herself, the taste in her mouth going sour.

She could feel heat reaching all the way up to her ears, and right when she was about to turn on her converse-clad heel and hide somewhere in the storage room, you pointed past her.

“I think that table needs a beating. How rude of it to trip you up like that.” You said, your brows playfully knit together in faux anger.

She audibly let out a breath of relief, unable to keep her face from sporting a smile. “Oh, I’m definitely taking it outside the second you leave. Wouldn’t want to beat it senseless in front of a child.”

Ellie thought that she had died and gone to heaven when you laughed at her miserable joke. Your eyes squinted at the corners, head thrown back slightly as your shoulders shook. Everything about you was hideously adorable. It should be illegal, actually.

“How courteous of you.” You teased, propping an elbow on the table so that you could rest your cheek against your hand. The look in your eyes screamed “play with me more”, and it took everything inside of Ellie not to back up into the table a second time.

Were you flirting with her? No. . . no way. You had a baby, which meant that a man had been involved at some point. Sure, lesbian couples had children all the time, but in most cases it was a long and arduous process. That and it was usually horrifically expensive. She couldn’t see you coughing up tens of thousands of dollars to conceive a child. Not when you were practically a child yourself.

“Well, you aren’t the first person to call me that.” Ellie decided to keep the teasing light hearted.

Ellie wasn’t exactly. . . subtle about the fact that she was gay. If the forearm tattoo of ferns and a moth wasn’t enough to clue people in, then her way of dress, posture, and demeanor surely tipped them in the right direction. You couldn’t think that you were play-flirting with a straight girl, that was for sure.

“Courteous? You? Who the hell told you that?” Her friend teased as he breezed past the both of you, a drink in either hand for the table in the far back.

Ellie clenched her teeth, turning her head so that she could give him a look. Jesse loved to publicly embarrass her it would seem. Not that she exactly needed someone to do that for her, not when she did it on the regular herself.

“Joel.” She snapped back, listing off the first person that came to mind. She instantly regretted it though, because Jesse only snickered as his reply. Did he really have to poke fun at her while she was talking to a girl? Knowing him and his antics he was probably doing it on purpose.

Ellie was left to fiddle her fingers, hoping that she could somehow recover for a second time within the span of a minute. God, she was totally blowing. . . whatever was happening between the two of you.

“Is Joel your boyfriend. . . ?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

You didn’t look all that disappointed when you asked. It just seemed like you were trying to keep the conversation going for a little longer. Still, Ellie’s freckled nose wrinkled in disgust.

“Ew.” She said simply, her mouth moving before she had the time to really think about how to properly answer. She wasn’t exactly a people person, and she quickly paled as she realized that she might have come off as rude. She fumbled, holding both of her hands up, a stuttering mess as she wracked her brain for the right words to say.

Once again though, she didn’t seem to need saving. You were laughing at her instantaneous reaction, finding humor in her awkwardness.

You found her endearing. Genuine people were few and far in between, and Ellie seemed to be one in a million. You could tell that she was the type of person that didn’t sugar coat things; she called em’ as she saw em’.

“Okay, okay,” You said through giggles, shaking your head. “So he isn’t your boyfriend.”

“Not at all. Joel is. . . well- he’s Joel. I was in foster care for a while, but he adopted me when I was fourteen.” This conversation was always a mood killer. Once the ‘O’ bomb was dropped, people often treated her differently. They danced around like they were standing on eggshells and looked at her like she was something to be pitied. Yeah, she had been an orphan, but she hadn’t had the opportunity to meet either of her parents. There was no one to miss. She had Joel, and she felt like that was all she ever really needed.

It was just her and Joel. That was her normal, and it was more than enough for her. Though. . . she’d probably die if she admitted that out loud to him. His brain would probably explode if she got all sappy around him, anyway.

“Well he sounds great then. Fourteen is a tough age- I bet you were super angsty.”

Ellie should have known that you’d be different. There was no “I’m sorry’s” or the awkward “dead parent” conversation.

“Oh, I was the worst.” Ellie agreed, a smile lighting up her features when she made you laugh for a third time. God, she must be on a roll.

“Well, here’s this,” You placed a twenty dollar bill on top of the ten dollar check. “You can keep the rest. I’ve been chatting your head off. I feel kinda bad.” You admitted, grabbing your purse and the small backpack that seemed to be packed to the brim with a child’s necessities.

Ellie could feel her palms beginning to sweat, so she nervously wiped them on the thighs of her black, well worn jeans. Should she ask for your number? Or would you see that as her shamelessly hitting on you and act weird?

Being gay, especially in a place like Jackson, was tough. Every female that she tried to make friends with got weird after she asked for their contact information, and men often saw her as some sort of accessory. As if hanging around her would make them look more non judgemental. That and the fact that males automatically assumed that she held all of the unshared, age-old mysteries of girlhood, and that she would divulge all of them.

“Hey-” Before she could even ask though, you had already opened your mouth.

“Do you mind if I asked for your phone number? Or if you feel more comfortable, I can get your instagra-”

“Phone number is great.” She breathed quickly, pulling out a piece of paper and a pen from her apron so that she could hand them over to you.

She would have just given you her number, but she was scared that she might never hear from you again. This way, she could be the person that built up the courage to call first. And she would. . . after a glass of whiskey. . . or a few hits from her bong.

You smiled warmly up at her, scribbling down your number as well as your name before folding it up into a square so that she could shove it into her back pocket.

“Have a good day. Don’t forget to text me, alright?” You shot her one last smile before picking your daughter up out of her highchair and placing her down on the ground. The little girl’s tiny shoes slapped against the floor as she walked quickly beside you, your hand already reaching down to grab a tight hold of her small palm.

You were almost out the door, the bell chiming as it swung open, when Ellie shuffled awkwardly.

“Drive safe!” She called out while she knew that you could still hear her.

You shot her one more megawatt smile before disappearing from view.

“Drive safe.” Jesse imitated her voice from behind her, his arms crossed over his chest as he smirked down at the petite female.

“Do me a favor? Shut the fuck up.” Ellie gave his arm a light punch before walking back into the kitchen, praying that none of the cooks would give her a hard time about her very obviously flushed face.

why not to buy tlou2 remastered (please read).

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d3arapril · 6 months

Text

modern!ellie headcanons

my take on modern ellie. why? cos i love her 🙄 pls enjoy! feedback appreciated as alwayssss~ <3

✧ warnings: brief we3d mention but other than that, none! just ellie being ellie. safe for all audiences!

ellie was quite reserved when u first met and now ur dating she can still shut down sometimes but she's working on it

she's quiet if she doesn't know u...if ur close... ur gonna wish u weren't

literally NEVER shuts up sometimes?? she can be like one of those wind up toys and chatter on and on for HOURS if she's in the right mood

knows random facts about the most obscure things

"babe did u know that there are more than 60,000 tree species on earth??" *silence* "uhhh.... thanks el?"

CHRONICALLY ONLINE!!! knows every meme under the sun, would still use xD un-ironically if u didn't bully her for it

her tiktok screentime is probably like 7 hours a day bc she could spend endless hours just laying in bed scrolling, u get home from work/school and she's sent u 30 messages. u watch every single one <3

she's fairly active on instagram but doesn't really care about followers etc... just posts random photos whenever she feels like it and has several photo dumps dedicated to her fav pics of u. has a highlight called ‘❤️’ with pics of u

would comment on other ppls tiktoks but not post her own vids.. she’s a bit of a troll sometimes LOL

bites her nails/fingers all the time til they bleed... it's a habit

u got her the nail polish that tastes nasty to try and help her reduce the amount she bites her nails but she just started enjoying the taste of it 😐

"i thought this was supposed to taste bad???" she'd ask u with a thumb shoved in her mouth

so obviously gets bitches but is so oblivious to her surroundings and doesn't notice people ogling at her whenever you're walking around together

however if people are looking at u?? its on sight

gets very jealous very easily and has a mad short temper. lowkey toxic sometimes

will wear an 'i love my girlfriend' t-shirt without even being asked because..she loves u..duh?

leaves u notes all around ur home... u open the fridge and she's written on the empty carton of milk that she left in the fridge :/

'i love u ps were out of milk :('

wears flannels/hoodies, vests/plain tshirts and baggy jeans (maybe skinny jeans if she’s feeling crazy. u tell her she’s outdated) with converse every day. 'lesbian uniform' she calls it...

carabiner queen but doesn't actually have any keys attached to it, just keychains... her fav is the spiderman one she won at the arcade. also has a fidget cube attached. Locked And Loaded

tobey maguire is her favourite spiderman :) closely followed by andrew garfield. she says she’d probably have a crush on him if she liked boys. also loves wanda.. obviously

listens to old 2016 rap.. fetty wap has been in her top 5 spotify artists for the past 2 years

also listens to deftones (her fav songs are teenager and cherry waves btw)

uses wired earphones still because she can’t let go.. they’re busted and chewed up to hell but somehow are still going strong

i’m a strong believer that ellie would LOVE watching berleezy and quotes his videos ALL THE TIME. it's "..and bricked.... hello!" whenever she sees u looking nice (which is all the time to her)

knows all the fnaf lore (somehow?? shes never even played it)

super light sleeper, always tossing and turning and she's actually fallen out of bed several times bc she gets so ridiculously restless

always sleeps in until she only has around 15 mins left to get ready. is somehow rarely late

she has no skincare routine but has perfect skin 🙄 just washes her face with some random cheap face wash she found on sale and moisturises when she remembers. she also doesn’t use conditioner bc she ‘doesn’t believe in it’ but has soft hair? tf

always staring at u? she frowns a lot but when she looks at u her entire face softens and she has that lil half smile that she doesn’t even realise she’s doing

u guys have an intricate secret handshake that she practised in her own time so she could get it right

her journal is full of sketches of u, poems about u… girl is so in love sometimes it scares her a lil

made a scrapbook for ur birthday full of everything she’s kept from everywhere u have been together, she even kept the stickers from ur starbucks drinks and stuck them in there <3

wrote a lil song for u and waited until ur bday to sing it to u for the first time… she got so embarrassed straight after so she just hid under the covers

big ol stoner! if u dont like weed she won’t smoke when she’s with u but if u also smoke/don’t mind she’ll loooove to smoke w u. gave u her fav grinder as a token of her love

tried to make special brownies but u both burnt them to a crisp 😔 el tries so hard to be optimistic (for once) “it’s fine babe we can just eat it anyway” “ellie it’s literally crumbling when u touch it…”

tried to stick n poke herself several times but couldn’t commit so she just has unfinished pieces on her upper thighs

loves head scratches and pants like a dog when u scratch the right spot

is this emoji 🧍🏼‍♀️ frequently

that’s all folks (for now……) …. i love her

#ahhhh shes silly goofy and unstable. i love her #ellie #my writing #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams headcanons #tlou headcanons #tlou fic #tlou x reader #the last of us x reader #ellie williams smut #sorryyy tagging this again #only way 2 get stuff seen :(#ellie tlou

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rebelfell · 4 months

Text

Surrender III

Eddie Munson x fem!Reader x lesbian!Chrissy Cunningham

Part One. Part Two. Part Three.

cw: established relationship, platonic!hc (eddie-chrissy are college besties), questioning/bi reader, threesome, fingering, oral (fem-fem giving and receiving), piv sex (unspecified birth control), squirting, one instance of spanking and singular use of the nickname “daddy” (not by r, it’s kind of a joke?)

6.5k 18+, MDNI

“Hey…are you sure you’re okay with this?”

Eddie’s voice is soft in your ear and you have to slightly rouse yourself, nearly having fallen asleep as you and he wait for Chrissy to arrive.

The room is quiet except for the low sound of the album he put on the record player, vinyl crackling occasionally, and the faint humming of the fan overhead pushing cool air down on your half-dressed bodies.

He’s drawn the gauzy curtains closed so the fading sunlight can still filter through and casts across the bed in a hazy glow. You lay flat on your stomach, wearing a pair of sweatpants a size or so too big so they’re slung low on your hips, and only your bra so he can gently rake his nails over the expanse of your back.

“Yeah,” you whisper, still halfway half-asleep. “I’m nervous, but I’m excited.”

“Me too.” He smiles at you and leans over to place a gentle kiss on your shoulder. “I just don’t want you thinking this was like a plan or something. I thought for sure these days were behind us, I never imagined this would happen.”

“Old habits die hard,” you snicker.

He grins back, his smile deepening the dimples in his cheeks and making your own heart swell.

“And you know you can take it back any time, right? Neither of us is gonna be disappointed or mad or anything like that. We just want you to have a good time.”

His steady voice and the words he’s saying warm your chest and you nod, cheek rubbing against the pillow under your face.

“I know that,” you say. “I trust you both.”

You fall quiet for a moment, chewing thoughtfully on your lip, and open your eyes to look up at him.

“Hey, um…are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“Of course,” Eddie smiles. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know, maybe because I was a total jealous nightmare obsessing about you and Chrissy getting together and now…”

You fall silent, pushing down the crack in your voice you can feel coming. Eddie tips your head up to look at him and gives a reassuring smile.

“I just kind of feel like a hypocrite,” you admit to him, your voice small.

“Don’t,” Eddie tells you, still smiling. “I get why you were worried, especially when I wasn’t telling you everything. You think you don’t deserve good things, so you can’t help but think when you have something good that it’s going to be taken away.”

He leans down and presses a kiss to your temple. You sigh at the feeling of his lips on your skin, the way his stubble rubs your hairline and gives you shivers that run across your scalp. You could have never imagined how good it would feel being with someone who knows you like he does. Someone who knew your body inside out, but also your head. And your heart.

“I know Chrissy…and I know you,” he tells you. “Neither of you would hurt me. You’re the best thing in my life. Nothing and no one is going to change that.”

He leans in to kiss you again, too wrapped up in one another to notice the turn of a key in the front door or the soft creak of its hinges.

“It’s you and me, right?” he murmurs, keeping his lips close to yours.

You nod decisively and whisper back. “It’s you and me.”

“God, you guys are like…disgustingly cute.”

You and Eddie’s heads both lift at the sound of another voice in the room. Chrissy leans against the door frame, arms crossed in front of her chest with a doting smile on her face. She’s dressed much more casually than the last time you saw her, in a matching set of velour sweats like an updated version of those Juicy tracksuits that were all the rage in college.

The soft mocha color of them sets off the red in her hair making it look less blonde than it did at The Hideout. Her make-up is simple, what little she’s wearing at all. You can’t help but grin at the sight of her as you bite down on your bottom lip. Her eyes sparkle as they meet your gaze and her nose scrunches adorably as she smiles at you.

“That’s what you get for breaking and entering,” Eddie chortles. Chrissy just rolls her eyes.

“That’s what you get for never changing your hiding spot.”

She holds up her hand and twirls the spare key Eddie keeps underneath an ogre statue in the yard around her finger. The sun catches on the sparkles on her nails as she lays the key down on your dresser and moves inside the bedroom.

“Someone likes back scratches, huh?”

The mattress dips as Chrissy joins you and Eddie on the bed. She reaches out and traces your spine with her forefinger from the nape of your neck all the way down to the small of your back. It causes more shivers to ripple across your body and you emit a deeply contented sigh.

“Mmhmm, better than a massage,” you hum.

Chrissy’s eyes find Eddie’s over you. “Mind if I take over?” she asks.

He doesn’t answer audibly, but you assume he must have nodded or brandished his hand with a silent be my guest when you feel Chrissy shift and swing out her leg. You feel the gentle graze of her velour sweats as she lowers to straddle you, knees resting on either side of your hips.

Eddie brushes your cheek one last time with the backs of his fingers and carefully climbs off the bed. “I’m gonna grab us some waters,” he says. “Chris, you need anything else?”

Chrissy glances over her shoulder at him with a playful smile. “Got any candles you can light? A little ambiance never killed anybody.”

“No, but candles sure have,” he says back wryly. “I’ve got some, but it’ll take me a minute.”

“That’s okay,” Chrissy hums. “We’ll keep ourselves busy.”

You listen as Eddie’s footsteps recede down the hall and you have to try and contain not only your excitement, but also the nerves that are starting to bubble up in your chest. As though she senses it, Chrissy devotes herself to keeping you relaxed. She gently strokes your back with a sensual skim of her fingertips up and down your spine, light as a tickle but smoother.

“I’m gonna unhook this, okay?”

Her hands rest on the clasp of your bra, but she waits to separate it until you give an affirming nod. The relief of it releasing is instantaneous, the band and straps falling away. Chrissy begins to scratch methodically, first with all ten fingers moving as one in a long, slow crawl down your back, and then splitting off in different swirling patterns. She knows all the places that need to be paid special attention, like right above your rib cage where the band dug into your skin all day. Her nails aren’t long, just a short almond shape, but they’re enough to offer a deeper scrape and more relief than Eddie’s blunt fingertips.

Leaning forward so her body presses against your back, she lets her lips hover over your ear.

“If you ever want to stop, you tell me, okay? If you aren’t enjoying yourself, I’m not either.”

“You got that from Eddie,” you say, recalling the first time you’d come over to his place. The first time you’d laid in this bed that would eventually become your own.

Heart in your throat, you’d warned him you weren’t ready to go too far. After all, you were still living in New York at the time and staring down the barrel of your return flight home set for the day after your sister’s wedding in a little over a month. The last thing you needed was to get too attached to someone who lived hundreds of miles away—least of all the sweet, handsome, oddly disarming guy you just met at a strip club. And you knew if you gave in to what your body was screaming for, it would only lead to heartbreak. There was no way it wouldn’t.

Eddie responded perfectly. More than perfectly. He said he didn’t care what you did or how far you went. He only cared about spending as much time with you as he could; and that he would go at whatever pace made you comfortable. If you aren’t enjoying yourself, I’m not either.

Which of course only made you want to do it more.

Chrissy laughs breathily, the sound a sweet and fluffy thing like a wisp of cotton candy.

“Eddie got that from me, babydoll.”

She pushes up on her knees so you have room to roll over onto your back. As you do, your arms come up instinctively to cover your breasts, suddenly feeling ashamed of the way they probably look from this angle, flat and flopping around unlike her tiny, perky ones.

“Don’t hide from me, beautiful,” she tuts, wrapping her hands around your own and bringing them to the zipper of her sweater.

Your fingers fumble around the metal pull and Chrissy helps you drag it down, revealing her skin is bare underneath. She has a faint smattering of freckles across her chest and you stroke your fingers softly along her collar bone and over her breasts as her sweater slides off her arms.

The light pressure of her body settles back down on your hips and she leans forward again, letting her warm chest press against your own. Her long lashes flutter and the gold ‘86 charm hanging on the chain around her neck swings steadily like a pendulum and bumps your chin.

“Can I kiss you?” she asks. Wordlessly, you nod.

Her lips are familiar, in a way. Plush and full, not unlike Eddie’s. They move against yours with purpose—not aggressive, but insistent. Like she’s trying to show you how much she wants this too. Gradually, you open up to her, giving her tongue access to probe your own and sighing softly when it does. The light clicks of your lips meeting again and again fill the room under the gentle strums of the acoustic guitar on the album playing.

You’re so lost in her, you don’t catch the sound of Eddie’s bare feet padding softly on the carpet as he returns. A soft creak makes your eyes fly open and you turn your head to the side.

“Don’t mind me,” Eddie chuckles, leaning against the low bookshelf your record player sits on.

Beside it, he’s arranged some white pillar candles of varied sizes and states of dripped wax. There’s a soft hiss and a faint smell of smoke as he strikes a match to light them. The flickering flames make his shadow dance on the wall and once he’s done, his attention turns back to you.

His eyes are luminous as he watches you and Chrissy together, the deep brown of them warm and bubbling with excitement seeing the way your lips move so sultry and sensuous with hers.

“She’s a good kisser, huh?” he asks his friend.

“So good,” Chrissy murmurs, pressing her mouth back to yours. She swallows your soft hums and breathy moans of pleasure. Your hands come up to cup her face, thumbs brushing over her cheeks and fingers slipping into her fine, soft hair.

She nips gently at your bottom lip, a little hint at wanting something more, and you remember that little request she made on the phone. You slide one hand into her hair until the heel of your palm meets the base of her skull and firmly squeeze the hairs closest to her scalp.

You don’t yank her head back, just grip her tightly enough to tip it back and get at the column of her neck. You suckle at the skin there, soothing the red mark you make with your tongue after. Her throat vibrates with a moan and you hear the soft plop of Eddie’s own sweats falling to the floor.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he groans as he palms the front of his boxers.

“Taker her pants off for me, Ed,” Chrissy instructs, tipping her head back down for another kiss.

Eddie nods and kneels dutifully at the foot of the bed. His fingers curl around the waistband of your sweats and he starts to tug them down over your hips and off your legs. He tosses them into the growing heap of clothes by the bed along with his pants and Chrissy’s sweater.

“I think she likes kissing you, Chris,” he says, his fingers toying with your dripping entrance.

“The feeling’s mutual.” Chrissy smiles, shooting you a wink as she slips off you to stand.

She removes her track pants, leaving her in nothing but a dainty thong, and your eyes go wide trying to take all of her in. A smile plays across her pillowy lips as she climbs back onto the bed and drapes herself against your side. You’re now laid bare before them, gazing down at Eddie between the valley of your breasts as he lowers himself to kiss at the apex of your thighs. His breath is warm as he exhales and brings his fingers to your core.

He slides in one with ease and follows it with a second, relishing the hitch of your breath it causes as he begins to massage your warm, wet walls. There’s more warm breath on your ear as Chrissy leans in close to whisper to you.

“How’s he feel, angel?”

She smoothes her hand over your forehead and brushes a few pieces of hair from your face, letting her fingertips trail over your cheeks.

“He’s…he’s really good,” you pant, struggling to draw breath. Your body is already on fire after just a minute of having Eddie’s fingers, reactive to every touch of Chrissy’s soft hands.

“I’m not surprised,” she giggles, letting her fingers skim your navel. “He learned from the best.”

“Oh, please,” Eddie snorts from between your legs. “I’m completely self-taught.”

“Excuse me?!” Chrissy squeaks in mock outrage. “I’m like your Mr. Miyagi of pussy.”

You start to giggle until Eddie curls his fingers particularly deep and the sound crumbles into a low moan. The two of them continue their light squabbling while you drift away, being blissfully rocked by the pace and rhythm of Eddie’s capable fingers inside of you.

“Not a chance,” he tells her. “If anything, you learned everything you know from me.”

“You have some natural talent, I’ll give you that,” Chrissy concedes. “But there’s always room for improvement.”

With that, Chrissy places a hand on Eddie’s shoulder in a signal to swap places with her. He withdraws his fingers from you, his eyes locking with yours as he brings them to his lips and sucks them into his mouth. Just the sight makes you flutter and ache with need.

Chrissy lifts herself up until she’s suspended over you, caging you between her limbs. Her eyes glimmer as she dips down and little tendrils of hair caress your cheek as she kisses you sweetly.

“I taught him everything he knows,” she whispers. “But not everything I know…”

Her soft lips skim the line of your jaw, traveling down to your neck and then your breasts. She laves her tongue over your nipple in a dazzling array of circles and flicks, gently rolling one between her fingertips as she suckles the other.

As she moves further down your body, Eddie smoothly moves up to lay beside you.

“Hi,” he whispers, smiling down at you, dimples deepening in his cheeks. “You okay?”

“Yes,” you breathe, the sound hitching in your throat as Chrissy’s warm breath fans across your mound. You meet her sparkling eyes once more as she glances up for one last check-in. Without a word spoken, you can see what she’s asking and you nod eagerly.

Her mouth is a mystifying combination of familiar and fresh. You recognize a couple of Eddie’s moves one or both of them must have learned from watching the other, but there’s still a clear distinction between the two. Where Eddie is precise and exacting in his movements—creative, yet deliberate as he’s working towards a goal—Chrissy has more finesse and flair.

It’s whimsical and variable, changing up and keeping you constantly attuned to her. It’s kaleidoscopic, in a way, shapes and colors twisting in seemingly random order to create a stunning, beautiful pattern.

While Eddie’s fingers have the benefit of sheer length and girth, Chrissy’s can maneuver more efficiently. They actually dance inside of you, like they’re trying to waltz with your g-spot. It’s not even a matter of better or worse. With a gun to your head, you couldn’t decide which was more enjoyable. Luckily, you don’t have to.

You feel the weight of Eddie’s broad palm as he strokes the top of your head, and dreamily turn your head to look at him.

“How is she, beautiful?” he asks.

“She’s really good…holy shit…”

You hook a finger in his ball chain necklace to tug him down, but find it slack as he’s already on his way to kiss you. His mouth meets yours eagerly, relishing the feeling of the moans and whimpers that fall from your lips as Chrissy plays expertly with your clit.

“This is so great,” Eddie breathes as you pull apart. “I can hardly see you when I’m eating you out and now I’ve got a front row seat. God, you’re fucking gorgeous…”

He swoops in to plant his lips against yours again and it steals all the breath in your lungs. You reach out and fumble like mad to find Chrissy’s hand where she’s holding your thighs apart, weaving your fingers with hers and squeezing to tell her you’ve not forgotten her.

She squeezes your hand back, but lifts her head when your hips start to squirm.

“I think she needs to be fucked soon or we might kill her, Eds,” Chrissy says teasingly.

“That true, baby?” Eddie husks, his voice low in your ear. “You ready for my cock?”

“Yes, yes—please,” you gasp desperately.

Chrissy’s slides up and her warm body lays against you, sandwiching you nicely between them as she pecks your lips softly.

“How do you want him to take you, angel?”

“From behind,” you say, daringly looking up at her.“So I can eat you out while he fucks me.”

The words feel clumsy coming out of your mouth, but still you commit to the statement as best you can and it must be enough for them to buy it. Chrissy’s large eyes widen even further as she exchanges a glance with Eddie, who looks at her like he might blow his load on the spot if you say something, anything, like that again.

“I think we created a monster,” she chuckles.

Needing no more prompting, Chrissy begins to arrange herself on the bed with a pillow under her hips and lays down another for your chest.

“Oh, I’m not complaining,” Eddie says, stroking himself as he watches you get into position.

You roll over on the bed to lay between Chrissy’s spread legs. You let your head drop low to ghost your mouth over her baby blue g-string, noting it’s the same pale shade as her eyeshadow you complimented that night you met at the bar. You lift up your hips, dripping slit on full display as Eddie kneels behind you. He draws a shuddering breath and a loud CRACK fills the room as he smacks his hand down on your ass. Your whole body jerks and you wail pleasurably.

Chrissy props herself up on her elbows and takes your chin between her fingers.

“Someone likes that, huh?” she says. “You like it when Daddy spanks you?”

You nod earnestly, eyes big and round, getting more excited by the second. Chrissy’s eyes flicker over your head to meet Eddie’s as a playful smirk spreads across her lips.

“Maybe keep that in check while she’s neck deep in my pussy?” she suggests

“Will do, Cap’n.”

Eddie gives Chrissy a little salute as you glance back over your shoulder at him. He shoots you a secretive wink, both of you knowing he had no intention of administering another even before Chrissy said something. Any more than one and the pain becomes too much of a distraction.

His ass, on the other hand…

You gasp suddenly, bunching the blanket in your fists as Eddie teases your entrance with the head of his cock. He smears your own juices between your legs, mixing them with the precum leaking from his tip. Rather than sinking inside, he slides it forward and the ridges of his tip and shaft catch on your clit and make you keen forward.

“Should I take these off?” Chrissy asks, hooking her thumbs in the waistband of her thong.

“No, I…I wanna,” you say softly.

Your head dips again and you begin a soft trail of kisses following the dip of her hips until you reach the curve of her waist. You place your mouth over the pale blue string, taking the thin elastic band between your teeth to pull it down. Behind you, Eddie actually whines at the sight and he leans sideways to watch as you drag the tiny piece of fabric down over Chrissy’s hip bone.

With all the grace of a ballerina, she brings her legs together and sticks them up in the air so you can lift her panties off completely. Once they’ve been tossed away, she lets her legs fall open on either side of you and you can’t help but stare. A bare shave, skin smooth and soft as a peach. Pink tissue glistening with her own arousal.

You tilt your head as you regard it, eyes dancing, a little surprised. “Huh,” you say. “It’s so…pretty.”

“Thank you,” Chrissy says with a tittering laugh. “And it tastes as good as it looks.”

You meet her gaze over her mound and the two of you share a devilish smile.

“Start slow, baby,” Eddie coos, his hands running up your sides. “The way I do with you, you know? Touch her thighs…rub around the outside…tease her…get her all needy…”

“Leave her alone, Ed,” Chrissy tuts. “Let her play with her new toy how she wants.”

The two of them exchange a smile and you feel the familiar weight of your boyfriend’s palm smoothing up your spine, the heel of his hand pressing gently down and helping to coax you forward. Your heart pounds in your chest as you descend, tongue slipping out to wet your lips before placing a kiss on the inside of Chrissy’s milky thigh.

“Mmm, hang on a second,” Eddie says, suddenly backing off the mattress. He walks around to the head of the bed so he’s standing over you as you look up at him plaintively.

“Are you not gonna…”

You glance behind you at the space he just occupied, pussy clenching around nothing as if in mourning. Eddie smiles and leans in close, his hand reaching out to cradle your jaw. You shiver at the roughness of his calloused thumb against your cheek and stare into his eyes.

“I will, baby, I promise,” he says. “You just…god, you look so hot right now I have to watch.”

You swallow hard, torn between the thrill his words send through you and the nerves now creeping up your shoulders and making them tense. Giving head was one of the things you actually felt pretty confident about. Guys were quick to tell you how good you were—Eddie in particular, even before he had discovered your affinity for praise. Of course, you could never shake the suspicion they only told you it was really good so you would do it more often.

Still, you’d certainly done it enough and you had it on pretty good authority your skills were above average. And you’d sort of been hoping maybe you could coast on that and Chrissy might help you with the finer points. But the thought of Eddie watching you do it? Being on display like that…not only having to be good, but also make it look like it was good?

What if you were bad at it? What if Chrissy hated it and didn’t have the heart to tell you after all this build up? You imagined her lovely face grimacing as you remained oblivious between her thighs. That would be a disaster in and of itself, but the thought of Eddie bearing witness to your spectacular failure?

At least if he was fucking you, he’d have something to keep him occupied.

“Hey,” Chrissy whispers, placing her hand on your other cheek so they’re each cupping a side of your face. “Come out of your head, angel.”

“Sorry,” you say meekly. “I’m…I’m trying to stay confident, it’s just hard.”

“Baby, why? You’re doing so good,” Eddie hums. “And you’re so sexy, can you really blame me for wanting to watch this?”

Your lip quivers as you avoid his gaze. “I just…it feels like I’m on display…”

“We’re not here to judge,” Chrissy says with a kind smile. “We know this is new for you, you’re not gonna get a scorecard at the end.”

“Just pretend I’m not here,” Eddie chuckles. “Chris already is.”

Chrissy swats his shoulder and it makes all three of you laugh gently. You look back and forth between them, warm brown eyes and sparkling blue-green ones. Both pairs shining and eager, focused solely on you, looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing they’ve ever seen.

Making it easy to believe you are.

You carefully lean forward and peck Chrissy on the lips, then turn your head to kiss Eddie’s as well. And back to Chrissy, for longer this time, cupping her jaw before returning to Eddie again. Anywhere you look, there’s a pair of lips to kiss and you greedily drink your fill of both.

“Let’s slow down a little,” Eddie murmurs, words making his lips vibrate against yours. “You two kiss for a bit and I’ll just watch for now. Okay?”

His eyes find yours and he lifts his brow with the question. You nod, almost imperceptibly, and he drops his hand to wrap his fingers around your wrist. Three squeezes. I. Love. You.

Chrissy grins. “Don’t have to tell me twice,” she says, hand slipping around the back of your neck and pulling you into her mouth.

Eddie backs away and settles into the chaise by the window, spreading his legs wide to stroke himself as he watches you and Chrissy’s bodies begin to move together. You remember how mystified he’d been by you putting a chair there— “Just seems silly to have extra furniture. If we’re in the bedroom, we’re only gonna be on the bed,” he’d chuckled.

He’s eating those words now, you’re sure of it.

You lay your body against Chrissy’s, letting one of your legs slot between hers, relishing in the velvety feel of her freshly shaved skin. Her mouth is open and inviting, tongue running across the seam of your lips to politely request access, which you grant her happily.

The kissing is deep and slow, like you and Eddie used to do when you first started dating and you realized making out with him was better than all of your past sexual experiences combined. You brushed your fingertips over the swell of her breasts, so dainty and perky, playing with her nipples until they stiffen at your touch.

She gasps as you move your lips down her cheek and sprinkle a line of kisses along her jaw until you reach her neck. You kiss and lick and suckle at the sensitive skin until Chrissy trembles in your arms. She turns her head to the side, mouth falling open in a gasp as you run the tip of your tongue across the shell of her ear.

“Get on top of me?” she asks in a breathy whisper. “I wanna feel you.”

You move quickly to straddle her hips as she’d done to you, placing your hands on her waist both to steady yourself and to hold her down as you begin a slow, deep grind down.

“Fuck, baby,” Eddie groans from his seat. “You’re so goddamn hot, I can’t stand it.”

Chrissy smiles up at you and nods in agreement. She flattens her hands against your stomach and moves them up to palm your chest. At her touch, that burning pleasure reignites. You sneak a glance at Eddie and your whole body tingles at the sight of him. He looks almost primal. Eyes hooded with lust, gripping himself so tightly it must blur that border between pleasure and pain. His stroke is long and slow, tortuously so, to stave off his release as best he can.

The feeling of having his eyes on you, the ravenous way they rake over your form, causes your confidence to surge. You lean forward, boldly pressing your mouth to Chrissy’s before beginning a trail of kisses down her body, mouthing at the hollows of her neck, nipping at her pronounced collar bones until you reach her breast and suck her pert nipple into your mouth.

“Such a little tease,” she hums excitedly, pursing her lips in a pillowy pout.

You chuckle around her nipple and release it with a lewd pop before continuing your trail down her body. Sternum to stomach, navel to mound, and at long last to your final destination.

You try to remember the things Eddie and Chrissy did that feel best for you, but eventually you give up on thinking at all. You let instinct take over, exploring her folds, listening to what makes her breathing get heavy, what makes her chest heave, what makes her thighs twitch and her toes curl over. You lose yourself in her taste and her musky scent, new but familiar.

“Oh, fuck you, Munson, I can’t believe you get this tongue all the time,” Chrissy whines, her voice wavering as you delve deeper into her center.

You swirl your tongue around the edges of her entrance, spreading her lips apart, licking at them like honeysuckle petals. You’re so wrapped up in her you don’t even realize Eddie has left the chaise until you feel the sudden delicious stretch of him pushing inside of you at last.

Gasps and whimpers fall from your lips right into Chrissy’s folds as he fucks into you. He starts with a steady roll of his hips, but you thrust back against him, chasing more force. He increases his pace, the slapping of his thighs against the backs of your own filling the room, as your lips surround Chrissy’s clit and you suck it like a piece of candy.

“Oh, yes, keep doing that,” Chrissy cries out, her voice jumping an octave in a pleasurable scream. “Just like that, just like that—”

Behind you, Eddie moans and you can feel his reaction as he pulses inside of you. “Jesus Christ, fuck—baby, you’re drenching me,” he exalts.

It doesn’t surprise you in the slightest. You’ve never felt as attractive as you do right now; never as wanted and desired.

The sounds of both of them fill your head, a symphony of pleasure and praise. You squeeze and clench around Eddie’s cock, milking him for all he’s worth. He feels you getting close and his hand comes around to find your clit and rub the flats of his fingers over it.

The coil in your belly grows impossibly tight with every pass over the bundle of nerves. He pushes further into you, his cock reaching impossibly deep until he hits that sacred spot within you that has you seeing bright white as you moan into Chrissy. Your orgasm rips through your body, walls gripping Eddie like a vice as his warm release paints your insides.

The sound of him coming is loud and guttural, his hips stuttering and thrusts growing erratic as he loses all control. Still, you do everything you can to maintain your pace on Chrissy. Her hips are squirming, her back arching as she grinds her hips against your lips and tongue.

“I’m so close,” she pants, breathless as her chest heaves. “Y-you’re gonna make me come, you’re making me feel so good—ahh!”

You plant a hand on her lower belly mostly for purchase as you add your fingers and crook them up in search of that spongy wall inside of her, but the pressure causes something else entirely.

A spray of liquid hits your neck and chest, dribbling down your breasts. Chrissy’s voice goes higher as she rides out her orgasm, her thighs twitching against your ears. Behind you, Eddie’s eyes go round with shock as though he thinks he must be dreaming.

“Was that…did you…did she…”

Answering him seems unnecessary when the evidence is all over your face. Chrissy’s chest and stomach heave as she draws one shuddering breath after another, her high moan dissipating as the waves of her pleasure finally ebbed.

“Ffff-uck, angel, that was amazing.”

“Really?” you ask, looking up at her hopefully.

“Absolutely,” Chrissy hums, content and sated as she lets her head loll back on the pillow.

You look back at Eddie, your eyes big and hopeful. “How are you? You good?”

He bends at the waist and leaves a line of kisses down your spine, the soft ends of his long hair tickling your tingling skin as he does.

“Oh, baby, you have no idea,” he says, the noise throaty and strained from his efforts. “What about you? Are you okay?”

“Incredible,” you sigh, laying down next to Chrissy and letting your head rest on her shoulder.

She curls her slender arms around you and her fingers start to stroke the hair at the crown of your head. Eddie heads for the bathroom and returns with two washcloths. One, he hands off to Chrissy and the other he dips between your legs to collect his spend as it’s trickling from your entrance. Once she’s cleaned herself up, Chrissy has you sit up with her and she reaches for one of the waters sitting on the bedside table.

“Good girl,” she sighs as she brings the glass to your lips, her cheeks still flushed and skin all glowy and radiant from her orgasm.

You can’t imagine ever looking as good as she does after you come.

She kisses you after you sip, licking the chilled water from your lips before taking a drink of her own. You fall back onto the bed together and Eddie curls up beside you, their arms layering over one another’s as they hold you between them. You roll over after a minute, burying your face in the crook of his neck, Chrissy now curling around you as your big spoon.

“You hungry?” you murmur against his chest.

“Fucking starved,” Eddie groans, making Chrissy chuckle.

She unwraps her arms from around you and stands to pull her clothes back on, glancing down fondly at the rumpled mess the three of you have made of the bed. As she zips her sweater, she pauses, looking for the first time a little unsure of herself.

“So, um…I guess I should go?” Her eyes dart back and forth between you and Eddie and you pull yourself off him to sit up.

“Do you have to?”

You look up at her plaintively and then back at Eddie, not quite sure what you’re even asking. All you know is you hate the thought of…kicking her out. Making her feel used. Letting her go back to Robin and Nancy’s without anyone to take care of her. God, do you wanna take care of her.

“You should stay, Chris,” Eddie tells her warmly. “Dinner should be done soon and we can watch a movie. Have a cuddle pile on the couch.”

“You sure? We’ve, uh…we’ve never done that before,” she says with a giggle.

It makes you laugh, too. The thought of them balking at something as innocent as cuddling when they’ve watched the other one fuck on multiple occasions. Eddie just shrugs and a smile plays across his lips as he leans in to brush the tip of his nose against yours.

“First time for everything,” he chuckles.

After you eat, you all settle in together on the big sectional sofa. Eddie sits up against the arm and you lay between his legs with your back against his chest and Chrissy draped across your front. It’s a delightfully crushing feeling, having both of them surround you. Eddie’s firm, solid body cradling yours while Chrissy rests her head on your chest and lightly strokes your legs.

You find out they both like to talk during movies and chuckle at the little quips they trade back and forth while you get to sit quietly, happily listening to them. Dinner sits warm in your belly and the heat of both their bodies around you is like the best electric blanket ever.

About halfway through the movie, you start to crave something sweet. And just as you lift your head to ask if he wants dessert, you see Eddie’s phone is out and he is already DoorDashing ice cream for all three of you.

Pistachio, strawberry and butter pecan.

The sleep you eventually fall into isn’t deep. You let your eyes flutter closed, and your breathing grows even and rhythmic, but you’re conscious enough to feel it when Eddie lifts you off the couch. He carries you down the hall to the bedroom and Chrissy follows, helping him tuck you under the duvet in the center of the bed.

“I’ll call her tomorrow,” she says, her voice hushed in the dark room.

“You can just stay the night if you want,” Eddie whispers to her. “She’ll be bummed if she wakes up and you’re not here”

You have to resist the urge to chuckle at all the domesticity you’re overhearing.

“I’m so happy for you, Ed,” Chrissy hums. “You guys are great together. Really solid.”

Eddie just smiles in response and holds a finger to his lips, shooting you a cautious glance to make sure you’re still asleep. He leads Chrissy to the closet and you hear the soft creak of the door opening as he ushers her inside. There’s a light rustling as he searches for something in the pocket of one of his blazers—the only hiding place he felt certain you wouldn’t find.

“Ohhh,” Chrissy mewls at whatever he shows her. “It’s perfect.”

“Thanks for the idea about getting her size. I thought she might have noticed the ring was missing, but she never said anything.”

“I’m so glad that’s the one you went with, it really suits her. When are you gonna ask?”

“I talked to Robin and Nance about having a dinner thing when they get back. Their patio is so nice with the lights and the pool and the fire pit and everything. And Jon will be there — I asked him about taking pictures. Will you still be in town? I think she’d like you to be there.”

“Of course,” Chrissy says. “Maybe we can go get our nails done that day.”

“That’s perfect.” Eddie exhales, breath coming out slightly shaky as he sucks in another. “And she…she’ll say ‘yes,’ right?”

“Oh, Ed…”

Chrissy lets out a soft sigh and you’d bet anything she’s rubbing his arm.

“Definitely,” she tells him. “There’s no doubt in my mind.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #chrissy cunningham x female reader #chrissy cunningham x reader #chrissy cunningham x you

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sassasafreeaction · 7 months

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It’s time to talk about the Laudanum Lesbians, Elspeth and Wee Morag. Right away, it’s pretty obvious that you’re supposed to draw parallels between them and Aziraphale and Crowley. When the viewer first meets Elspeth, we get this gruff girl who threatens the two of them and is established to be doing something “morally wrong”. Life hasn’t been kind to her, and she clearly doesn’t trust people. To really drive it home, she and Crowley are on the exact same page while they’re talking to Aziraphale and wheeling the body to the alley.

Then we meet Wee Morag, and it becomes apparent that every decision that Elspeth makes is to better their life together. She offers Wee Morag food (which is something our favorite demon is wont to do for his partner) and specifically oversells it as something fancier than it actually is. Wee Morag calls her an angel. It’s meant to be a little tongue and cheek since it’s in the presence of a literal angel, but it also serves as a way to show that while Elspeth may not be a Good person, that she at least cares about the person close to her.

Now for Wee Morag at this moment, we don’t get much from her aside from her obviously being the moral compass out of the two of them. She tells Elspeth that she's going to Hell literally two seconds after referring to her as an angel. The more important part of this interaction I would argue is Aziraphale’s response to Wee Morag. Some part of him recognizes a kindred spirit in her. He takes off his hat in a show of sincerity and says that it was lovely to meet her. This is important for later in the episode.

After they fail to sell the body, all three of them end up back in the alley with Wee Morag. Elspeth is again choosing to not trust Aziraphale despite his change of heart to do what he now knows is actually a good thing. Wee Morag starts off on the fence, worried about those souls that won’t get into Heaven. Elspeth tells her that she promised to help, and through everyone’s various methods of convincing (tempting may even be the better word as there is a demon sitting next to her when she agrees), Wee Morag says that she’ll do it because that’s what friends do. Regardless, she’s now had her change of heart. Although I would say hers is more driven by the same thing that drives Aziraphale to help with the Antichrist. It is fundamentally for her and Elspeth’s benefit, not the Greater Good per say, but she needs that reframing of doing the moral thing of upholding her promises and potentially helping people.

In the graveyard, Elspeth does all of the hardwork and Wee Morag holds the light both to assist how Elspeth sees, but also likely to help her keep watch. She’s filling a guardian role for Elspeth. Later when Elspeth sells her body, she even says “She only wanted to look after me.” Upon seeing the actual body (a priest’s body no less), Wee Morag realizes with horror what they’re doing - the potential moral ramifications stare her in the face. She ends up caught in the crossfire of a gun, and she dies for it.

Originally, I thought that Wee Morag’s death sets Crowley up to worry about what might potentially happen to Aziraphale in the future. In a way, I still think it does. She was the Good character helping the Bad character, and she pays dearly for it. His line “It’s a bit different when it’s someone you know, isn’t it?” while pointed at Aziraphale can be felt by everyone in the room. Elspeth has been dealing with death this whole episode, but her whole life is turned on its head when her ‘pal’ dies. Crowley recognizes that it’s the knowing part that actually causes something to hurt. (It’s one of the reasons why he doesn’t have many human friends. He does have a friend though, and it would absolutely gut him to lose him.)

The episode isn’t over though. We still have to watch someone else pay for stepping over the imaginary boundary of Good and Evil, except rather than it being Aziraphale, it’s Crowley. Like Wee Morag, he steps out of his usual role and helps Elspeth, and for that, he pays dearly. He gets dragged off to Hell to have whatever Demons do instead of a rude note done to him. After everything that’s happened, it’s no wonder why you get that panicked shout of “Crowley” from Aziraphale. They just watched the worst case scenario happen for people like them.

Also as another quick fun aside, both sets of characters are bound by something that allows them to not be able to carry out their actual dreams and goals. Elspeth and Wee Morag were bound by poverty while Aziraphale and Crowley are bound by their respective Head Offices.

#The 1941 minisode is probably my favorite #And I love the Job minisode #But I feel like we're sleeping on this one when it's just as good #good omens meta #good omens #meta #good omens season 2 #Aziraphale #Crowley

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magicfootballstuff · 4 months

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Dirty Little Secret - part 6 (leila ouahabi x reader)

Summary: A love story about secrets, flirty messages, football rivalries, and useless lesbians who don’t know how to communicate. And it all starts with one badly timed challenge in the Champions League.

Leila Ouahabi x Arsenal!reader

Part 6/?

Read other parts here.

———

You’re a European Champion.

You don’t really know what to do with that information.

To be honest, after the first twenty four hours that pass in a hungover blur, you end up on a bit of a downer. You should be delighted, riding the high of being the first England team to win a major trophy in fifty-six years, but after two glorious months in camp with a group of girls you’re now bonded with for life, returning to your hometown for a couple of weeks before pre-season is a dose of reality that’s just a little bit too big to swallow.

You’re happy to see your family, of course. You’ve spent most of the summer away from them with only limited visits while you were in camp. But after the best summer of your life with a football at your feet, it takes all of about three days for you to be itching to get back on the football pitch again.

A few days into your two weeks off, a few of the girls get together for what is part post-Euro reunion and part farewell dinner for Georgia, who departs for Munich the next day. It’s a mixed group - a few Lionesses and some of the girls from Manchester City - but it’s the familiar dark hair at the end of the table that catches your eye, deep in conversation with somebody else you don’t know.

You’re surprised to see Leila who, apart from having her own Euro hopes dashed by Georgia’s extra time winner, has no reason to know Georgia.

You take a seat next to Lauren, who notices you looking at the two girls at the far end of the table.

“Oh, that’s Laia and Leila,” she explains. “I invited them. They’re still settling into the team and there’s so many City girls here, I thought it would be nice for them to get to know people a bit better.”

Leila must feel your eyes on her because it’s at that exact moment that she looks up and her dark gaze meets yours. There’s no change to her expression, no giveaway to anybody else that you know each other except for the fact that her eyes linger on you for longer than they would if you were just strangers who happened to make eye contact, until she finally turns back to her conversation with Laia.

You feel a rush of giddiness go straight to your head, blocking out all the sounds around you as you continue to look at Leila, admiring the sharp angles of her side profile. It almost feels like the Arnold Clark Cup all over again, having this secret that nobody else around you knows. You enjoyed your time in Barcelona with Leila and getting to be all coupley with her in front of her old teammates, but you’d forgotten how much of a turn-on the thrill of secrecy could be.

———

As the evening goes on, you don’t forget about Leila - how could you, when she is right there and looks so damn good - but you get a little distracted by everything else. There are enough Lionesses present that means you spend a lot of time talking about the Euros, reminiscing over the best summer of your life, then because tonight is about Georgia leaving, you end up talking about old times at City. It’s been years since you played for them, a scrawny teenager playing alongside Keira and Georgia, all three of you with big dreams and no idea that you would one day become European Champions together. But even as you reminisce, there’s always a part of you that’s aware of Leila’s presence at the other end of the table and you can’t help but glancing at her throughout the night.

“All us OG City girls are gradually leaving the nest,” Georgia says, smiling fondly at you and Keira. “I wonder who’ll be next.”

You notice that Keira is suspiciously quiet and has suddenly taken a deep interest in the ice cubes at the bottom of her empty glass. With the performances she’s just put on at the Euros, you wouldn’t be surprised if she’s got interest from other clubs too.

“City’s got some new blood now though,” you say, your eyes wandering to Leila once more. “Not that it’ll matter, Arsenal will still beat City this season.”

Predictably in a room full of mostly City players, your comment causes outrage. Arsenal and City are due to play each other soon for the first fixture of the new season and you always enjoy the rivalry against your old club. And with Leila on the other team, you’ve got extra incentive to go out there and put on a show this time.

You let them banter with you for a moment. Even Georgia, technically no longer a City player, takes great joy in slandering Arsenal.

When the conversation finally moves on, your eyes wander back to Leila, and you tune out the voices around you as you stare, mentally trying to figure out if there’s a way you can subtly change seats to be closer to her without alerting the entire group to your motives.

There isn’t, and Leila chooses that exact moment to meet your gaze while her lips are still wrapped around the straw in her drink. She lets the straw slip out of her mouth but you still get a glimpse of the pink tip of her tongue and there’s no way in hell you can pay attention to whatever conversation is going on around you now.

You excuse yourself to the bathroom, anything to give yourself a chance to get away and recompose yourself, and thankfully they’re all too busy laughing at something Georgia is saying to pay any attention to the flush of your cheeks, nor the way that Leila’s gaze follows you as you go.

You hear somebody else enter the bathroom as you flush the toilet and when you exit the cubicle Leila is standing at the sinks checking her appearance in the mirror. Her dark eyes find yours in the reflection, and her mouth twitches in a smirk of recognition.

“Hi,” she says.

You glance around the bathroom, checking that all three stalls are empty, before you approach the sink to wash your hands and reply, “Hi yourself. How are you finding Manchester?”

“I like it. It’s a nice city.”

“At least the weather’s been nice since you got here. Just wait until it rains every day.”

You walk over to the paper towel dispenser to dry your hands and Leila turns around, leaning back against the sink to look at you.

“Everything is always about the weather to you English people,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Too hot, too cold.”

“What can I say - we like to complain.”

“Are you going to complain right now?” Leila asks.

The air in the bathroom suddenly feels a lot thicker, the way that Leila is watching you as you dispose of the balled up paper towel, coupled with the teasing lilt to her tone, reminding you of just how attracted you are to her.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Actually, there is one thing I want to complain about,” you say, taking a couple of steps closer to Leila.

“What‘s that?” Leila asks, her eyebrows crinkling together in a frown.

“I want to complain about the fact that we’re alone in this completely deserted bathroom and you haven’t kissed me yet.”

“You haven’t kissed me either,” Leila points out.

“Is that an invitation?” you challenge her.

Your words have the desired effect of provoking a reaction from Leila, because her eyes flash in defiance and she retaliates, “I want to complain about how annoying-”

You don’t give Leila the chance to finish her complaint, because you grab her by the lapels of her jacket and pull her in for a kiss. She lets out a surprised little grunt when your lips collide with hers, but melts into the kiss quickly, her hands finding your hips as her lips settle into a familiar movement against your own.

You only realise now that you’re here, kissing Leila in a secluded bathroom like your life depends on it, that it’s actually been months since you last did this. In all your focus for the Euros, the hard work and the euphoria, you’d sort of forgotten that you hadn’t actually kissed Leila since you bid your goodbyes to each other in the departure lounge of the Barcelona airport after your brief visit at the end of last season. Not even after your game against each other during the tournament did you kiss.

And with the way Leila kisses you, stealing the air from your mouth with such hunger, you vow never to go another three months without kissing her again.

“I’ve missed you,” you mumble against her mouth, when you have to draw back for breath, to save yourself from passing out from sheer lack of oxygen caused by Leila’s kiss. “I’ve missed this.”

Leila’s hand finds the back of your head and she uses it to pull you closer, not for another kiss, but to rest your head against her shoulder as she wraps her other arm around your back. You snake your own arms around her waist, burying your face into her neck and savouring the feeling of her arms around you, not wanting this moment to end.

“I’ve missed this too,” Leila murmurs, her fingers stroking through your hair.

She’s right, it’s this that you’ve been craving. Not the kissing or the sex, though you’ve spent more time thinking about that in the nearly three months since you last slept together than you’d care to admit, but everything else too. The intimacy of being held, of having somebody to share the little moments with, the ability to go from teasing each other about the weather to making out against a sink to cuddling like this, with each of those things feeling just as natural as the last.

And maybe, just maybe, all of that will be easier to facilitate than it was when you lived in different countries.

“Stay with me tonight?” Leila asks, feeling her voice rumble beneath your cheek as much as you hear the words.

You’d been planning on getting a taxi back to your parents’ house on the outskirts of Manchester, or maybe crashing with Lauren or Keira if it ends up being a late one tonight, but that was before you knew that you’d see Leila tonight. Now that this offer is on the table, there’s nowhere else you want to spend the night.

“Of course.”

———

Waking up the next morning, there are two things that you feel. The first is comfort, Leila’s warm body wrapped around your own with your hips nestled back against her own, feeling happy and well-rested after a night of good sleep in her arms.

The second is the desperate urge to pee.

You try to extract yourself from Leila’s embrace without disturbing her, but Leila only tightens her arms around you to stop you from leaving and mumbles words that you don’t understand in sleepy Spanish.

“Leila,” you murmur, trying to wriggle free. “Leila, I need to pee. Where’s your bathroom?”

Leila reluctantly lets you leave her arms and mutters in Spanish again, before she says in English, “Left.”

You slip out of bed and leave Leila’s bedroom, following her directions by finding the bathroom through the next door to the left.

When you’ve been to the toilet and freshened up a little with some cold water to your face and running your fingers through your mussed hair, you exit the bathroom and immediately stop in your tracks when you see somebody sitting at the dining table eating breakfast and drinking coffee. You think you recognise her as one of Leila’s new City teammates, though her name slips your mind, but you wonder if you really walked right past her without noticing her on your way to the bathroom.

“Hi,” she greets you, an amused smile gracing her lips. “I’m Deyna.”

You glance at Leila’s bedroom door, which stands slightly ajar as you left it, then introduce yourself to Deyna.

“Arsenal, right?” she asks.

“Yeah,” you nod. “And you’re at City with Leila?”

“Teammates. Roommates.” Deyna pauses, then adds, “Just regular mates.”

“Cool,” you say, unsure whether you’re supposed to continue to make smalltalk with Deyna out of politeness, or if it’s acceptable to make your excuses and return to Leila’s room.

Luckily you’re saved at that exact moment by Leila herself, who emerges from her bedroom with sleep-tousled hair to investigate what’s going on.

“Oh,” she says, when she sees Deyna. From the expression on her face, she’s as surprised to see Deyna as you are. She turns to you, then says, “This is Deyna.”

“She knows that already,” Deyna grins. “We were just getting to know each other.”

“Coffee?” Leila asks you, as she walks over to the kitchen units and grabs a couple of mugs out of a cupboard.

“Yes please,” you reply. At the table, Deyna’s attention is now on her phone as she eats, and you say to Leila, “You didn’t mention that you had a roommate.”

“Don’t worry, I’m a deep sleeper,” Deyna interjects, glancing up from the screen of her phone with a smirk gracing her lips.

Your cheeks burn red and Leila retaliates with what you can only assume is a string of Spanish expletives.

Deyna apologises, mostly directing it at you, before she asks, “So how did you two meet?”

“Champions League,” Leila answers, busying herself over the coffee again.

“We played each other twice in the group stage last season,” you elaborate.

“I beat her twice,” Leila says, glancing across at you with a glint of mischief in her eyes.

“Leila got a yellow card for trying to break my legs.”

“I didn’t … it was an accident,” Leila insists. “It was passion.”

“Strange way to flirt, but okay,” Deyna teases Leila.

“That’s what I said!” you exclaim in agreement.

Leila wanders over with two steaming mugs of coffee, one of which she offers out to you, and she leans in to press a quick kiss to your lips as she mumbles, “Hey, it worked, didn’t it?”

You thank her for the coffee, bringing it to your lips and taking the tiniest sip from the mug, letting out a satisfied hum.

The only other time Leila has made you coffee was when you went to visit her in Barcelona, but the coffee is perfect, like heaven touching your tongue.

“You remembered how I take my coffee?” you ask.

“Yeah. Of course.”

“Thank you, it’s perfect.”

The domesticity of it is nice, as if you’re existing in a bubble where only you and Leila matter.

Until Deyna interrupts your moment.

“Go and be cute in your room,” she tells Leila, dismissing you both with a wave and a roll of her eyes. “I’m trying to eat.”

Leila nudges you back towards her bedroom and you soon find yourself nestled against Leila’s side again, propped up against the headboard with steaming mugs of coffee cradled in your hands.

“You promised me a tour?” she says.

“Of Manchester?”

Leila nods eagerly.

“You’re gonna have to wait a bit longer,” you tell Leila apologetically. “I can’t hang out today.”

The disappointment that flashes across Leila’s face is almost enough to have you reaching for your phone to call your agent to cancel your plans for the day.

“I’m sorry. I’m supposed to be going back to my old junior club today. Helping out with some training, taking photos with the kids, letting them see my medal. Inspiring the next generation and all that crap.”

“It’s not crap,” Leila assures you. “Well, maybe for me if it means we can’t hang out.”

“Didn’t know you were so clingy,” you tease her.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me yet,” Leila replies flirtatiously.

You smile across at her.

“And I can’t wait to find out.”

———

You return to London a couple of days later, regretfully without having seen Leila again since that morning at her flat, but you start to message each other more often. Not quite every day, but a few times a week, little things like talking about your days. It’s more familiar than it’s ever been before, with most of your conversations prior to the Euros being laced with flirtatious pictures and suggestive messages. But this is different - you talk about mundane things like training, or what you’re having for dinner, or the latest English slang words that Leila has learned from her new City teammates.

But that doesn’t mean your relationship has lost any of its spark. It’s still flirty, especially because Arsenal’s first fixture of the new season is away at City. It reminds you a little bit of those first couple of encounters in the Champions League last season, bantering about the upcoming contest in a way you hope leads to sparks on and off the pitch.

And then the game gets cancelled.

All that build-up, the jokes about yellow cards, the promises that you’d let Leila do whatever she wants to you if she let you score past her, falls away into nothing the moment that the game is called off.

You feel empty. And not just because football is your life and you’d been looking forward to the league starting up again, but because once the season starts you don’t know when you and Leila will both get time off at the same time. It might be months before you get to see each other again.

———

Two things happen when the season finally begins and September morphs into October.

The first is that you pick up a hamstring injury. It shouldn’t surprise you too much, given that you pretty much went straight from last season into the Euros, straight into pre-season. You’re in your prime as an athlete, but you’re not invincible. You work hard on your recovery, even if you’re a little bummed to be spending so much time in the gym and staying on the sidelines as the Champions League group stage begins.

The second thing that happens is that fifteen Spanish players, including Leila, step back from their national team in protest of their working conditions. You don’t know the details but you remember Leila alluding to some problems during the Euros, when she pointed out that talent alone doesn’t win Championships.

You don’t really know what you can do to support Leila, especially from London. The story blows up in the football media world and you imagine it must be particularly hard for Leila, being so far from Spain and away from most of the other girls involved, but you don’t know if there’s anything you can do or say to make it easier.

You eventually settle on messaging her a few hours after the story hits the headlines.

You Proud of you for standing up for the right thing! Always here if you want to talk about it or if you want a distraction instead?

Leila likes your message after a few hours but doesn’t reply.

The red heart that taunts you from the screen of your phone is something you’ll come to realise is probably the beginning of the end.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #leila ouahabi imagine #leila ouahabi x reader #dirty little secret

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unfinishedslurs · 7 months

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RIP Mike Wheeler’s heterosexuality

“Is being gay contagious?”

Steve stares at his phone groggily before putting it back against his ear. “…Mike?”

“Is it?”

“It’s three in the fuckin’ morning is what it is.” He rubs his nose, Mike’s words finally catching up to his brain. “Seriously, Mike? No it’s not fucking contagious, you’re not gonna get the gay disease or whatever from me. I promise you’ll keep liking girls.”

He’s a little hurt, even though he knows the question is innocent. They’ve been asking a lot of questions, like the inquisitive little assholes they are, but none of them had seemed like they weren’t okay with it. Until now.

“…that’s not what I meant,” Mike says. Steve realizes that his voice sounds shaky, even over the phone.

“Then what—“ he cuts himself off, realizing halfway through his bitching that there was only one reason Mike would call about this. “Oh.”

“Can you pick me up?”

“It’s three in the morning,” he repeats, even as he starts wondering where he left his keys. “Your mom…”

“Steve,” Mike pleads. “Please?”

He sighs. “I’m on my way.”

Mike is sitting on his doorstep when he pulls up, head in his hands. Steve doesn’t have to get out of the car, he stalks to the passenger door with all the vitriol of a boy with too many emotions to hold in, and wrenches the door open hard enough that Steve worries he’s going to break it.

“Watch it, noodle arms,” he says, trying to pretend this is normal. Maybe if he acts like it’s not well past midnight, Mike will relax.

It doesn’t work. Mike slumps in his seat, not bothering with the seatbelt. “Can you just drive?”

Steve drives. Doesn’t really know where they’re going, but it doesn’t matter. Just away seems to suffice.

He eventually pulls into a side road

“I’m scared to even touch another guy now! Because apparently hugging is gay when you’re older, and so is sleeping in the same bed, and telling your friends you love them, and…and I’m fucking scared all the time, ‘cause what if they’re right? How do they know? How can they tell by just fucking looking at me? It’s bullshit!”

“Shit, kid,” Steve says, heartbroken. “Shit. C’mere.”

He pulls him close, and Mike turns his face into the crook of his neck, shaking. His shirt collar starts to get damp.

“I don’t know what to do,” he cries. “I thought it was normal, I thought everyone was just…so scared all the time, and we just didn’t talk about it. But then you said that thing about being afraid and pushing it down, and I didn’t— I tried to ignore it. I tried so hard not to think about it, Steve, I swear I tried.”

“I know you did,” he says quietly. It hits him that he might be the only one who really gets it. Eddie gave up denying it long ago, deciding to evolve into something else for them to focus on. Robin’s a girl. Which doesn’t mean jack shit in most cases, because being a lesbian fucking sucks in a town like Hawkins, but girls aren’t as obsessive about it. Sometimes when they compare notes, Robin will just stare at him.

Mike shakes his head. “I don’t know what I did wrong,” he mumbles tearfully into his shoulder.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Steve says with a surprising amount of vehemence. He grabs Mike by his scrawny little shoulders, pulls him away so he can look directly into his bloodshot eyes. “Not a damn thing, do you hear me? There is nothing wrong with you, and anyone who tells you otherwise deserves a swift kick in the balls. Got it?”

Mike responds by bursting into loud, messy sobs.

Steve just keeps holding him, running a hand through his hair and soothing him gently, like he wishes someone had done for him or Robin or Eddie when they were young. Finally Mike pulls away, embarrassment starting to set in.

“Sorry,” he mutters.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Steve asks instead of a meaningless platitude he knows Mike wouldn’t accept.

Mike gives him a suspicious look. “I guess.”

“I’m scared too. All the time.”

“No you’re not,” Mike snorts. “You don’t need to make me feel better just because I’m a pussy.”

“I’m not joking,” he says. “Why do you think I dated girls? Why do you think I went through so many lengths to hide it? It’s fucking terrifying, man. But you know what makes it less scary?”

“Dating girls? Marrying a woman?”

“No.” He pokes Mike’s chest, right over his heart. “People. Friends who love and accept you. Friends who know what you’re going through, even.”

“Do you…” Mike chews his lip. “Do you think Nancy would be okay with it? With me?”

“Absolutely I do. She was okay with me, wasn’t she? And I was her boyfriend.”

“Yeah, but it’s different when it’s your family, right? Sometimes people don’t care if someone is… people don’t care until it affects them. Do you think Nancy is like that?”

He knows Nancy isn’t like that, but that's a talk they’re going to have to have themselves. “I really don’t,” he encourages. “I think she’d be really glad to know this part of you, actually. She loves you.”

“…I know,” he says, shifting uncomfortably. “I don’t… we made this dumb no secrets pact the first time the Upside-Down happened, I don’t know why. It’s stupid. But…I don’t want to keep secrets from her anymore.”

#stranger things fanfic #steve harrington #mike wheeler #lavender overload au #this is part of my finished fic where Steve and Robin get married #Mike can be read as gay or bi here #Mike and Steve is an underrated dynamic and I love them being friends #‘oh but mike hates steve-‘ WRONG. mike hates that he wants his sisters dumb idiot ex boyfriends approval #like don’t get me wrong I do think he hated Steve at one point #but after he protected them from Billy I think it went out the window #and now he begrudgingly thinks steve is cool. and HATES it #the funniest moment in all of stranger things is when Steve called Mike Nancy while concussed #and Mike gave him the most disgusted insulted face imaginable #i laughed so hard

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its-your-mind · 9 months

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This is a call to action for all the PJO girlies (gender neutral) that I know are sleeper agents on this webbed site

Go read Trials of Apollo. Go do it. Do it right now.

I know what you’re thinking. “Tbh I didn’t love Rick’s writing towards the end of Heroes of Olympus” “There’s no Percy so why bother” “All of the Argo II crew are kinda OOC” and listen my friends. You are so valid to have those opinions. I felt the same way after Blood of Olympus. But listen to me. Look at me.

Now that you have had some time away, you must give these books another try. For me. For Uncle Rick. For the demon baby grain spirit who is only able to say his own name (Peaches).

Do not worry friends, I do not expect you to read just based on my say-so - I also provide:

A list of reasons why you (yes you) should go read the Trials of Apollo series right now gogogo:

(Spoiler warning - all broad plot things that you learn early on, but I know some people (including me) avoid that shit at all costs)

All the chapters are titled in bad haiku. Ya know that one scene in Titan’s Curse where Apollo just starts reciting apropos of nothing? That’s every chapter title. They’re all so bad it’s amazing.

Apollo is so up his own ass about everything, and it’s so cool to experience the same world through the eyes of someone who is not used to being in amongst the chaos

Oh yeah the plot. That’s a reason to read it.

Okay so

Basically Zeus continues his streak of being a shitty shit parent and decides to blame like… every bad thing that has happened on Apollo, and punish him by turning him mortal and enslaving him to a demigod girl named Meg who is a garbage gremlin with a little demon baby guard named Peaches (see above)

And like the A plot is they gotta save the oracles from shitty old Romans who wanna take over the world (stop me if you’ve heard this one before)

But like the B plot is about what it means to discover that you’ve fucked up, you’ve made mistakes, you’ve hurt people, and you gotta fucking own up to that shit

But also

You do not deserve to be punished for every horrible thing that has ever happened because of you, or even around you, and when a parental or authority figure in your life tells you that, they are an abuser and they are wrong

And yet

It can be so hard to fully separate yourself from them. Because for so long, they were all you had.

But that’s okay, because when you start to learn that the people who were supposed to care for you and love you were not actually doing that, there are people around you who will love you, who will support you, who will pick you up and hold you close and make sure you know that you are okay

And they can’t fix you

But they can give you the safe space to fix yourself

hmm that was an essay about themes and metaphors BUT THATS WHY YOU SHOULD READ IT

also there’s a wikipedia arrow who only speaks in Elizabethan prose (in all caps)

OH ALSO ALSO you get to see Will and Nico being a CUTE AS FUCK couple in the first book. Nico smiles. Also makes skeletons grow out of the ground when people annoy him. Fuck I love this little gay death boy so much.

AND. You get to see so MANY of your old friends. And they still! Get! Plot! And! Character! Development!! Even though they are only there for a little bit

OH OH OH there are two old lesbians who run a halfway house for people who are tangled up in magic shit with nowhere else to go

Did I mention Peaches? I did. He’s my favorite.

OH ALSO. This is “unreliable narrator” executed SO FUCKING WELL. Like, all narrators are unreliable. But Apollo used to be a FUCKING GOD. He has not had to deal with the reality of death all that much. He’s used to people praising his name and bowing down at his feet. But that ain’t happening!! And he is Unhappy about that!! But it also lets there be such a clear juxtaposition between what Apollo believes about himself and about the world and what is really true, which is such a wonderful way to write about recovery from trauma.

Ahem

Anyway it’s just real good Uncle Rick continues to knock it out of the park but he just did something different and we (at least I) needed some space from OG PJO fan brain before I could appreciate how fucking awesome this series is.

OH OH OH and if you like audiobooks Robbie Daymond (hello CR mutuals - yes, this is the one who is our beloved Blue Boi who we (Orym) so desperately need returned) is the audiobook narrator and he is. So fucking good. Absolutely NAILS the dramatic-ass-inner-monologue of this dramatic ass ex-deity. Also nails all the other voices as well. 15/10 audiobook narration I’m lichrally gonna go listen to other books JUST cuz he reads them.

okay why the fuck are you still here. GO. GET THESE BOOKS. If your public library does Libby you can absolutely get them on there. GO FORTH.

#trials of apollo #toa #rick riordan #uncle rick #pjo #percy jackson #pjo apollo #peaches the karpos #robbie daymond

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laikabu · 28 days

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re: my thoughts on laios’s sexuality (long post ahead lol)

let me start this post with this. first, this contains a lot of references to the new adventurer’s bible world guide book released last february. i can read japanese, but i’m sure they’re translated somewhere. general spoiler warning in case. also… i am ESL, so sorry for any grammar errors

second, if you’re on the team that insists laios doesn’t care about humans enough to form relationships, either read the manga again or at the very least read this thread.

last, please don’t chime in with your acearo headcanons on this post. there’s already a majority of posts here that insist laios is acearo and that anything else is impossible. i don’t like it the same way i don’t like when someone declares they hc marcille as bisexual to a poster who reads her as lesbian. i already have enough people here who declare he’s ace on my own art. at least people on twitter of all places don’t do this sort of thing to me. nothing in this manga is canon, you can headcanon anything i won’t get mad if you hc him as bi or something. just. don’t be weird on my post.

okay. trust me, i love women, and i love the idea of making my favs women lovers but the idea of laios being gay really appeals to me because of his background. this isn’t fueled by yaoi since i don’t even ship the only m/m relationship i bring up here, i just think it adds a nice layer to his disconnect with his own humanity

i do think laios has a very abstract relationship with his sexuality for a multitude of reasons. he grew up in a very conservative backwater village. he has a hard time recognizing his own feelings towards others just as much as vice versa. i don’t really care for the “laios is a monsterfucker” agenda people are pushing but i do think he’d engage in sexual thoughts in his own weird way, i won’t deny his deviantart fetish shit

as an autistic person myself, i relate to how he’d prioritize his special interest over social interactions. after all, he was fixated on monster food so he’s distracted from dark thoughts. he’s not an actual glutton

he’s shy around women, but i don’t think it’s out of attraction. i just think it’s because he’s awkward and doesn’t want to be seen as a threat. there’s a couple of times when, out of armor, he deliberately tries to make himself look smaller and nonthreatening.

he didn’t show any interest towards ashivia (the hubby hunter girl marcille replaced) and just humored her because she wouldn’t leave him alone. his other party members thought he was giving her special treatment so he had to tell her he “doesnt want to give her special treatment anymore”(even though he never did), so she left

ashivia did her best to butter herself up to laios and he didn’t care, but laios thought shuro was his bestest friend in the whole world because he was too much of a pushover to reject him. ironically… what ashivia did to him parallels what he was doing to shuro

also… yeah sorry i keep bringing up that one comic of laios saying if he were falin he’d marry shuro and then begging him to take him back to his country, or that comic of laios wondering why he doesn’t like him(and then the first two questions he asks the magic mirror was what if he or shuro were women). i don’t even ship them! but it’s not a reach to assume that he likes men because of this, even if it’s kinda played like a joke(after all,a lot of people like chilshi even though their ‘shippy’ interaction was played as a joke)

of course, given the setting, i don’t think knows he’s gay, he wouldn’t have the vocabulary to label himself. i do want to dance around with the idea of him forcibly confronting his own sexuality after years of yaad pressuring him to produce heirs lol. laios might not be cishet but he’s a king so he rdgaf about that right now. i’m open to him having female consorts for political reasons, but i don’t think he’s into women, is all.

before anyone brings up his succubus… god forbid an author makes hetbait. a part of the plot twist was that not-marcille wasn’t the only succubus enticing laios, his other party members were copied too. she was the only one who approached him. also… succubi aren’t always inherently romantic. once it realized marcille didn’t work, it switched to appeal to his desire to be a monster.

#laios isn’t even in my top 3 fav but i gotta throw this out to the void #dungeon meshi meta #laios touden #dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi spoilers #kabru sexuality is easy cuz that dude is capital B Bisexual but laios has layers to it i feel

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elliesflower · 1 year

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i hate u [abby anderson]

pairing; abby x afab!reader

word count; 3.8k how tf did that happen

cw; language, mentions of death, angst (like, so much angst), enemies to lovers, eventual smut

summary; abby has always had it out for you. the feeling was mutual.

until it wasn't.

an; hiiii, it's me, providing you with the abby content i'm devoid of. i love this buff lesbian woman so fucking much.

read pt 2 here!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT OR I'LL CRY (and as always read it on AO3 here <3)

there were much more productive ways you could be spending your time. you could be, i don’t know—literally doing anything else other than being forced to clean these goddamned bathrooms.

it’s not that you didn’t mind cleaning, no. in fact, under ideal circumstances, cleaning could actually be fun for you. there was just a big problem with who it forced you into a room with this time. with her stupid long french braid, and her absurdly large muscles—like seriously, what the fuck was she showing off for? we’re killing scars, not for training for the fucking rapture.

“you know, if you move the mop in a back-and-forth motion, it would actually clean the floors.”

to put it quite plainly, abby doesn’t like you. you said left, she had to say right; you say go, she had to say stop—the mutual loathing was just routine at this point, it came almost as natural as breathing. surely it didn’t help that the two of you were typically sent on assignments that involved being together for far too many hours at a time. rarely was it made only slightly better by the presence of someone else, another body to diffuse even an ounce of the tension that hung between the two of you like a rope.

you scoffed at her juvenile insolence, though you started mopping again nonetheless. “trust me, i don’t want to be here any longer than i have to. i have shit to do,” you jeered, making it a point to look down at the ground, watching the soapy water spread across the tile. not at the way her muscles—have you mentioned they’re absurdly large?—flexed as she wiped down the counter with bleach.

“oh, i’m sorry, i didn’t realize i was keeping you from something!” abby exclaimed, feigning ignorance. “by all means, you run off and do whatever it is you have to do, and i’ll just finish this little punishment all by myself.”

you had to bite back a bitter laugh, instead choosing to shake your head at the ground, your mopping becoming just a little bit more aggressive with each stroke. you chose to ignore it. you almost had her completely tuned out of your mind, until you didn’t.

“it’s not like i was the one who just let that scar go.” that stopped you dead in your tracks.

abby has said a lot of things to you. a lot of untrue things. a lot of hurtful things, even. and again, it was entirely possible you could have even ignored that. but then you looked up—and you saw her stupid, imprudent fucking smirk, and it was over. “you know what abby?” you started, throwing your mop. you didn’t even have the energy to smile at the way she flinched when the wooden handle hit the ground with a loud bang. she played it off quickly, though, raising an eyebrow and leaning back against the counter. you didn’t expect the sudden lump in your throat.

“fuck you.”

the words didn’t come out exactly like you’d hoped. maybe there was a slight hesitation, the faintest crack between the syllables, a single tear threatening to spill down your cheek—but you meant it, wholeheartedly.

fuck abigail anderson.

you couldn't bother to give her even a second thought as you turned on your heel, ignoring her calls of your name from behind you. perhaps a bit childish, but you slammed the door extra hard on your way out.

let that scar go? is she fucking for real?

you were so tired of having to prove your place here to her. isaac sent you both on the same assignments, he trusts you just as much as her to do his most important jobs, but it never seems to be good enough. whether it was jealousy or stubbornness, you could never be quite sure.

time and time again you’ve tried to make nice with abby; you had actually wanted to be friends with her—the jaunty girl who never seemed to let her past slow her down, taking every opportunity to crack a sarcastic joke and practically jumping in front of bullets for the people she loved—you’d tried to spark friendly conversation, volunteered to take some of her extra assignments, even offered her a book you’d overheard her mentioning she wanted to read that you just happened to have on your bookshelf, but it was all futile. she wanted nothing to do with you, like your presence alone was a personal inconvenience. so, naturally, you stopped trying—yet, the two of you almost always somehow ended up in the same room together, whether it was a drunken night in leah and nora’s room, or cleaning bathrooms as a stupid punishment.

but one, one little slip up and that’s all it took. you took your eyes off that scar for a split fucking second, and now she’ll never let you live it down. you were furious, angry tears clouding your vision as you stormed away, down the hallway and practically sprinting up the stairs to your room.

she can clean that bathroom all by herself, you thought as you fumbled to get your keys out of your pocket, dropping them on the ground in your haste. “fuck!” you exclaimed, bending down to pick them up, searching for the small silver key on the ring.

“there you are,” a sudden voice from behind startles you enough that you flinch, dropping your keys again. of fucking course.

“go away abby,” you practically snarl, wiping away the wetness on your cheeks with your palm before she could see. despite your weak protest, you could hear her heavy footsteps getting closer as you finally unlocked the door, pushing it open and slipping inside.

“oh, come on,” abby was right on your heels, pressing a hand against the door and preventing it from fully closing behind you. your eyes felt like they might roll into the back of your head.

“i’m sorry, what part of ‘go away’ was unclear to you?” you snapped, turning around to glower at her through the small crack in the doorway. her arm strength was incredible, she was barely leaning against the door as you pushed with an embarrassing amount of effort to try and close it on her. what you lacked in brawn, you pride yourself in making up for with brains—yet another reason it was already embarrassing enough that you fucked up, now she was practically rubbing it in your face.

abby’s eyes held a look you couldn’t quite understand. no way she was apologetic, but her face held a certain softness to it you’d never quite seen before. usually her face was all rigid lines and sharp angles, clenched jaw and guarded eyes, especially with you. it was rare for her to smile around you, now that you thought about it.

“can we talk?” abby asked, and her voice was almost…pitiable. her eyes were low and her pink lips parted slightly. it was unnerving. she never asked you for anything, let alone to talk. your eyes flickered across her face, trying to make sense of what she was really trying to say, beneath the surface.

but there was really nothing to say to that. no, you wanted to scream, no we can’t fucking talk, fuck you, and i never want to talk to you again. but you said nothing, instead shaking your head and turning away, letting the door swing open against the pressure of her hand.

“why do you hate me so much?” your mouth was moving before your brain could catch up, arms crossing defensively over your chest, though you were no longer facing her.

“why do i hate you?” she scoffed, and you heard the door closing softly.

“yes, why?” you spun around to face her now—she still stood near the door, that same indecipherable expression painted on her face. you avoided her eyes, but noted the way her nose twitched ever so slightly. “ever since i stepped foot in this stadium you’ve had it out for me, and no matter how hard i try, i can’t understand why,” oh fuck, the anger was coming back up, rising in your throat like bile, “is it because i don’t put up with your shit anymore?”

“no,” abby gritted out, taking a step toward you. “listen, i—”

“because i see right through your little act?” you cut her off and wow, she was fuming now, chest rising and falling heavily as she clenched her fists together. “stop it, i’m trying to—”

but you couldn’t stop, even if you didn’t mean it, “‘ooh poor me, my dad died and now i’m stronger because of it, and everybody loves me,’” the words stung in your mouth, and in your eyes, “‘i’m isaac’s top scar killer but i have a heart of gold,’” tears falling as you stomped toward her, “well good for fucking you abby. i’ve lost a lot of people too but you don’t see me acting like i’m better than everyone.”

you couldn’t help it, you were pushing her before you knew it, right in the chest with as much strength as you could muster, and she wasn’t expecting it because she stumbled backwards into your bookshelf, a picture frame falling and shattering on the ground before she caught her footing.

you looked her right in the eyes for the first time since she had entered your room, uninvited, and all you saw was flames, burning through her blue irises like wildfire. you stepped back, wide-eyed and disoriented, her figure nothing more than a blurry silhouette in front of you. her heavy breathing was all that you could hear, it consumed you, made you dizzy as you staggered backwards, that ineffable sadness reaching into your chest and squeezing around your heart, fuck, how does she do this to you?

“for fucks sake, would you just listen?” abby’s asked suddenly. her voice was rough around the edges, chipped away by your words—you couldn’t look at her, it was too much, a sob escaping your throat before you could stop it. why did you say that to her? she was reaching toward you before you could say another word, you half expected her to hit you, to strangle you, to say fuck you and never speak to you again, but then her calloused fingers were gripping your forearm.

“abby,” your voice was pathetic, broken and whiny, god, you were completely out of control. you let your arm go limp, watching as her hand practically burned an impression into your skin as she pulled you into her chest. you were overwhelmed by her scent, that fucking pine soap she always hoarded and faintest hint of bleach that burned your nose, reminding you of what started this in the first place.

no, this couldn’t be real life, there was no way you were crying in front of abby, your biggest vulnerabilities tumbling from your lips like an avalanche, but her arms were there, wrapping around your shoulders like a blanket as her head fell into the crook of your neck. you couldn’t tell whose heart was beating faster, her pulse pounding against your ear as your arms hung limp by your side. your brain was absolutely spinning trying to figure out what to make of this, a few loose strands of her braid hair tickling the side of your cheek as you shifted your head.

“i’m sorry,” her strained voice bled down your neck, sending a shiver down your spine, her breath hot against your shoulder as she tightened her grip. instinctively, you wrapped your arms around her waist, giving in to her touch, her apology washing over you like a humid rain in the summer—you’d waited so long just to hear those two little words, but it felt wrong somehow. “i’m sorry,” she repeated, quieter now, though you were probably the one who should be saying that.

“abby,” you found yourself saying again, squeezing your eyes shut as you leaned into her, feeling the tightness of her back muscles flex as you flattened your hands against her back, oh god, what the fuck is happening right now? “i didn’t mean that,” you whispered, muffled slightly against her shirt. the words i’m sorry usually came easy to you, often apologizing for things that didn’t warrant one in the first place, but the words were harder to get out somehow in this moment, pressed against the fabric of her shirt.

her grip on you loosened, her arms sliding down your back and she was gone in an instant, turning away, clasping her fingers together and bringing them to the back of her neck.

“i don’t hate you,” but she couldn’t face you, dropping her arms to her hips as she looked at the ground. you watched the anxious tapping of her foot and it felt like you couldn’t breathe—isn't this what you wanted? to be friends, or at the very least, for her to not hate you? maybe then, but not now. “i’m intimidated.” she was quiet, turning to face you. the orange glow of the lamp cascaded over her face, painting her in the softest form you’d ever seen her in.

“intimidated?” you were taken aback, furrowing your brow. “by me?” you shook your head, incredulous at her sudden confession. what could she possibly be intimidated by? “abby, you’re-” you gestured at her, unsure of what to say. “-you could probably snap me in half if you wanted to, i-i don’t understand-”

“oh trust me, i know,” abby cut you off, scoffing, and fuck, she just couldn’t help herself could she? you were mortified she’d caught you in a moment of weakness, you were angry, you were so fucking confused. your pity quickly soured, tears dried up in an instant, the disdain seeping back into your skin like a parasite—no matter how many times the two of you got close to reconciling, it always went wrong somehow. it had felt different this time, but maybe you were wrong.

“abby, i swear to god i-”

“okay, okay, i’m sorry,” she softened again, taking a deep breath to steady herself. “old habits die hard, am i right?”

you squinted at her, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “does this really seem like the time to be making a fucking joke? because the door is right there,” you made a show of pointing at the door before turning to sit on the chair behind you, bending over to take off your boots. anything to avoid looking her in the eye.

“fuck, i’m sorry, i don’t know how to talk to you about this,” she was walking towards you now, and you didn’t bother to look up. she sat opposite you in the mismatched chair, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. you looked up at her through wet lashes as you pulled your boots off, tossing them haphazardly to the side. she looked just as confused as you felt, brows furrowed in frustration—nothing about this felt normal, or okay.

“what i’m trying to say is that i’m sorry,” she started, dropping her head to look at the ground.

“you said that already,” you noted dryly, scooting back in the chair and pulling your knees to your chest protectively. she laughed, but it didn’t sound bitter.

“i’m sorry, for everything,” abby looked at you now, and your breath hitched. “for how i’ve acted around you. for the way i’ve treated you, the things i’ve said. all of it,” her eyes were full of sorrow, and it made her look a way you’d never seen before—vulnerable, fragile, empty. “right after you moved onto the base, leah told me about what you’ve been through, losing your parents and your brother, being forced into that military school, and still fighting to get here all the way from boston. if i’m being honest, i was jealous that you could take it all in stride.”

you could do nothing but stare at her, wide-eyed and dumbstruck.

“from the minute you got here, you were so calm and collected, ready to help anyone who needed it. you were constantly volunteering for extra assignments, helping out in the classrooms, doing all the work that no one else wanted to do with a smile on your face…i know we all have a past but i never could’ve guessed yours,” she let her head fall again, clasping her hands together and taking a deep breath, “and god, you’re so fucking smart, like there’s no way you learned all the shit you know about history at that dumb military school.”

your mouth fell open slightly, trying to process her words. first, an apology, and then a compliment? no smart-ass comments, no snarky look, no just kidding. you’d never even talked with her about your love of history that much, let alone your family.

“abby,” you started, pulling your knees tighter to your chest. your brain and your mouth were fighting over what to say, the years of dissention between the two of you threatening to surface—but she seemed genuine. bouncing her leg up and down, abby continued to avoid your gaze as she picked at her cuticles.

“when i first got here, i was a mess.” she cut you off. “i could barely eat or sleep, i hid in my room whenever i wasn’t out on an assignment, and i didn’t care about anyone or anything. it took me months to get past it all and then you came along, so open and easygoing, even after everything you’ve been through…i was embarrassed.”

“everybody handles grief differently,” you said quietly, putting your feet back on the ground. she looked up at you, and her cheeks were wet. you swallowed thickly. “i wasn’t always that happy behind closed doors.”

abby frowned slightly. she was quiet now, pensive as she held your gaze. your cheeks burned under the scrutiny, and you wanted to shrink into the chair. less than an hour ago you had all the intention in the world of never speaking to abby again, and now she was sat, taking up space in your room, and your mind, fuck, how was she always on your mind?

“that still doesn’t explain why you were so mean to me,” you broke the silence after taking another second to process her words, and tears were clouding your vision again.

“yeah, if i’m still being honest, i don’t really have an explanation for that either. or, not a good one, at least,” she at least had the decency to look sheepish, leaning back and scratching her neck lightly. “i guess because i was so intimidated by the way you handled yourself, i just defaulted to…jealous rage?” she sounded unsure, and you scoffed.

“wow,” you said. “you’re right, that is a terrible explanation,” you shook your head, leaning back to match her pose. she laughed again, looking up to the ceiling, and it sounded foreign.

“i’m not the best with words,” she smiled weakly, a blush creeping up her neck.

“trust me, i could tell by all your elementary insults.”

“hey, didn’t i just say i was sorry?”

you smiled back at her now, against your better judgment. the two of you had spent the past three years practically at each other’s throats, and a simple i’m sorry i was mean to you because i don’t know how to handle my emotions was supposed to fix it all?

“i meant it though,” abby said softly now, eyes boring into yours. “i’m sorry. for everything.”

you held her gaze a moment longer, but had to look away. you had to, before she could see that you were caving, that all you’ve ever wanted to hear was that—that you wanted to just talk to her without always being on guard, that you wanted to know her favorite music and what she really thought about all of manny’s sexcapades and if she ever took her hair down from that goddamn french braid and— “you don’t have to forgive me. not right now, anyways. i just hope that one day you can.”

and then she was standing up, your eyes followed up her torso as she stood, smoothing her shirt down before giving you another weak smile and heading for the door. oh god, fuck, fuck all of this, “abby, wait,” you were up and after her in a heartbeat, grabbing her forearm just as she had yours earlier, forcing her to turn around. she looked surprisedly, first at your face, then down at your grip on her forearm, which you quickly dropped when you felt your heart skipping a beat. her eyes were wild, tired and full of anguish.

before you could talk yourself out of it, you were practically throwing yourself at her, arms wrapping around her torso as you pressed your cheek into her chest. she stumbled only briefly, before you felt her arms envelope your shoulders once more. this time, it didn’t feel wrong.

it felt like coming home.

“i really shouldn’t have said that thing about your dad,” you said, but it was muffled in her shirt.

you felt her laugh rumble in her chest before she squeezed you tighter, her head lowering into your neck so that you felt her lips on your shoulder as she spoke. “yeah, that was pretty fucked up.”

you smiled into her, and god, this was all fucked up. the world was fucked up, and out of it was born you and abby—two fucked up people making fucked up choices that lead to some pretty fucked up consequences.

she pulled back from you, but kept her hands on your shoulders. you took a fistful of her shirt, looking down to avoid her eyes. your stomach was flipping, the heat radiating from her body overwhelming you and making you feel dizzy. “can you forgive me?”

and yeah, that was maybe your fucked up, roundabout way of telling abby, i do forgive you, but she seemed to understand. when you dared to look back up, she dropped a hand, and the other came to softly caress your cheek. she looked at you tenderly, the rough pad of her thumb wiping away a tear you hadn’t even noticed.

“of course i can.”

and then there was only the sound of your heart thrumming in your ears, her quickened breath as she looked at you in a way you’d never seen before. you gripped her shirt tighter, lips parting slightly as you felt the weight of her hand against your cheek. you leaned into it, eyes slipping closed for a moment.

“abby,” you whispered, your free hand coming up to hold hers in place against your cheek.

“shh,” she shushed you softly, and you could sense her getting closer. you didn’t dare open your eyes, heat pooling in your stomach as you felt her breath fanning across your face.

“don’t speak.”

her lips pressed against yours so softly that for a moment, you wondered if you were dreaming.

#abby anderson #abby tlou #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby x reader #abby x you #abby anderson smut #the last of us part 2 #i love abby anderson w my whole heart #also thank u to mia for reading most of this and reassuring tf out of me

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