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#then realized….I couldn’t share it at the time🥲

lovebugism · 1 year

Note

oh my god,,,, gurl!!!! THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT fic is sooo good 😫 my heart literally breaks every time I read this story. Thank you for blessing us with this masterpiece <3

THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | square one

summary: eddie makes a confession that's been weighing heavy on his heart. you realize that your future with him is haunted by ghosts from your past. pairing: virgin!eddie munson / f!reader word count: 16.3k warnings: hopper, steve, and robin being the reader defense squad, hints at reader's previously poor mental health, mentions of abusive and toxic relationships, a banshees of inisherin quote, b*lly h*rgrove because he needs a warning. (pretend any typos don't exist pls and thank u!) a/n: guess who's back, back again? ✨✨ i'd apologize for disappearing for a month, but then there'd be apologies in all my notes, so just know that i'm sorry every time i disappear unexpectedly, okay? 🥲 thanks for being so patient! please enjoy this long-awaited installment of tcar ily <3

( PREVIOUSLY ) | ( SERIES MASTERLIST ) | ( NEXT )

Eddie’s got a 1986 Van Halen tape in his boombox and a baby pink heart stitched into the fabric of his shirt. He’s the least metal he’s ever been, but he couldn’t be happier.

You keep your promise to him to patch up his torn Hellfire tee. If anything, you use the absentminded assurance as your excuse to see him again. The night you shared before, all but baring your scarred souls underneath glittering stars and streams of pale moonlight, hadn’t satiated your hunger for him. Eddie left you craving in a way you weren’t used to before — a yearning to be close to him that went beyond the boundaries of physical intimacy.

It was a simple sort of longing. It was a homesickness. A sense of nostalgia for a love you’d never felt before.

You wish you could wear Eddie’s adoration for you like a blanket, wrap yourself in the hand-stitched quilt of many colors and bundle it tighter around your shoulders when the cold comes. You want his softness to hold you in a way you’ve never been able to hold yourself.

You feel swaddled in it, succumbed and cloaked and at peace in all his tenderness. You’ve never been so at ease, so blissfully comforted by the presence of another human being. And Eddie feels all of that, every ounce of warmth you feel, because it pours out of you like rays of sunshine and bathes him in shades of gold.

He didn’t think you could get any softer than you had been that night at Skull Rock, until you were nestled in his unmade bed the next morning. You curled your legs underneath you as you weaved the needle and thread through the tear in his t-shirt, eyes squinted and tongue poking out the side of your mouth in an astute concentration.

All of the sudden, you were marshmallow fluff and honey on toast — made of all things sickly sweet that made his stomach feel suddenly full.

You finish mending the rip in record time and beam when he wears the heart-shaped stitching with pride. The rest of the day thereafter was spent in the tiny confines of his one hundred square-inch bedroom. From there, the both of you came to the silent understanding that you didn't want to spend another day apart.

The weekend had given you a limited sort of freedom, allowed you to pretend that you lived in a world with no responsibilities or anything other than Eddie Eddie Eddie, but adulthood made you no such promises. He had a side job to do to keep himself afloat, and you had a cat that thought it was the end of the world anytime you were gone for longer than a night. Both of those things together meant that the eve of parting was ultimately inevitable.

Every second you spent away from Eddie felt like you were grieving.

You mourned for him in the darkness of your apartment and tried to pretend you weren’t half a person in the cat food aisle at Melvald’s.

You tried to lessen the unbearable distance with phone calls, though it didn’t come nearly as close as feeling his fingers thrumming imaginary beats on your thigh or his heartbeat thudding against your ear.

But his voice filled the emptiness of your one-bedroom apartment and the Eddie Munson shaped hole he’d left just behind your ribcage, and that was good enough for you.

When you weren’t with him, you were roaming around your apartment like some kind of ghost, with the phone tucked between your ear and shoulder and the rotary clutched in your free hand.

You cook yourself dinner with him ranting about his day in your ear. You hold the receiver closer to Bowie and force him to hear her purr when she’s being exceptionally cute. He falls asleep some hours later to the sound of your soft snores, and you wake up the next morning to the sounds of his.

It was pathetic, truly.

You’d be gagging at how sweet it was if it wasn’t happening to you.

But it was.

Every ounce of this sticky sweet goodness was yours, and it tasted just like honey on your tongue.

It was the honeymoon stage times a thousand, all rose-colored and reflecting light — your own personal utopia. It brought with it a heavenly sort of refuge, a bubble of peace you never wanted to pierce.

Eddie basks in the serenity of it all when he finally has you with him again. You’re in his lap, on his lips, and all over him, but it still isn’t quite close enough. He doesn’t think he’ll be satisfied until you’ve successfully melted with him and your limbs have entwined with his like tree roots, destined to remain that way for the next couple of centuries or so.

And it’s weird because he could hardly handle living in such a tiny trailer with Wayne, let alone stomach more than a couple hours with the guys from Hellfire all in one place. But you? You entered his life all at once and now he can’t remember what it was like without you.

He doesn’t particularly want to, if he’s being real honest.

It’s why he’s always less enthused about letting you leave when you’ve both got responsibilities dragging you apart. He begs you to stay with him a few hours more, pleads for you to stick around while he makes a quick deal or an emergency pick-up when Dustin Henderson calls and says he needs a ride.

And you promise you’ll wait on him there, because he makes it virtually impossible to say no to his rosy pouted lips and chocolate syrup puppy dog eyes.

That’s when you run into Wayne for the first time, when Eddie’s out and you’re making breakfast for when he comes back.

French toast and scrambled eggs sizzle on the stove and warm the kitchen with all its cinnamon confections. It makes the man’s face screw up in confusion when he steps inside the trailer because he’s never known Eddie to cook a day in his life. And then his eyes find you — a young, pretty girl all alone in his kitchen with his nephew’s van gone from the drive.

“…Who the hell are you?” he wonders gruffly and pops a cigarette between his lips, totally unbothered.

He’s got no reason to be intimidated by the stranger in his trailer. He’s more confused than anything else, and he’s got this contorted look on his face like he’s blaming the exhaustion from the graveyard shift for his vision of you.

“Oh— my god,” you mumble through the mouthful of whipped cream you’d squeezed into your mouth moments prior. You fight to swallow it all down. “Uh. Hi. I’m, um… I’m Eddie’s... girlfriend?”

It sounds like you’re lying.

In some ways, it feels like you are.

You’ve been spending more time in his trailer than in your own home, but it’s not like either of you has motioned to make anything official just yet.

He eyes you with a tired and heavy gaze, eyes as dark and as infinite as Eddie’s. The man gives you a once-over and then chuckles lowly to himself as he tosses his corduroy jacket onto the back of the recliner and his tin lunchbox to the coffee table.

You shift awkwardly on the other side of the room. “…What is it?”

“When Eddie said he was talkin’ to a pretty girl on the phone every night, I thought he was lyin’,” he admits through hearty chuckles.

It makes you laugh too.

There’s little talking after the fact, besides you offering him some of the breakfast on the stove and him joking that you should come around more often.

You recount the story to Eddie when he returns, utterly mortified about the whole thing. You’re even more embarrassed when the boy finds amusement in your horror and starts to chuckle to himself — not exactly at you, but not with you either.

He laughs louder when you swat at him for it. You clamber on top of him, mattress squeaking mattress under your weight, as you demand him to stop through giggles of your own.

Somewhere down the line, both of you stop caring.

Neither of you is quite sure where the conversation stopped and ended, only that when you started kissing, you couldn’t stop.

They weren’t innocent little pecks, but they weren’t sloppy and full of tongue either. You press your lips together with the intent of being as close as you can to the other, like you haven’t spent every second you could together.

Neither of you will be satisfied until you’ve swallowed each other whole.

And you, you’ve got this ache for him. A swirling of want that’s constantly rippling in your belly for this boy. He’s just not usually under you when it’s happening — and now that he is, the crackling embers have burst into white and blue flames behind your sternum.

Your lips click each time you part, a lewd noise you never want to stop hearing. The sound of it gives you goosebumps, like a good song you’ve just heard on the radio. You wonder if Eddie can feel them as his hands start to creep up beneath your shirt and find purchase along your waist.

You open his mouth with your own and sneak your tongue inside just as you roll your hips over his lap.

It’s the most forthcoming either of you had been in your three-day stint of nonstop talking. Even when you were over at the trailer, totally alone and pressed underneath him, it was otherwise completely innocent. You just make out like a couple of teenagers until one of you wants to make a food run or offers to roll a joint.

And you like that. You like that he doesn’t expect anything from you, but it does get a little agonizing when you’ve tried every attempt to give yourself to him and he just won’t take it.

Like usual, Eddie tenses when he feels you grinding on top of him — partly because he feels a tingle at the base of his spine when he gets instantly half-hard, but mostly because he knows there’s nothing he can do about it.

He keeps preaching to himself it’s not the right time, it’s not the right time, it’s not the right time — but he’s got no idea when it’ll ever be the right time, if it’ll ever be the right time, or if he’ll know it when it comes.

Because he’s had you to himself for days now — no Wayne, no responsibilities, no pressure — with his tongue rutting against yours and your hands fidgeting with the metal buttons of his jeans, and it still doesn’t feel good enough. Eddie doesn’t feel good enough.

He’s not sure if he ever will.

And it’s not you. God, it’s the farthest thing from you. As far as Eddie’s concerned, he’s never had more fun with anyone else. He’s never laughed harder with anyone else. He’s never felt as comfortable with anyone as he’s starting to feel around you. So he’s not entirely sure why he finds the rest of it so hard.

Eddie wants you so bad that the ache of all his yearning is palpable. It’s like the weight of it is what’s keeping him from you — unstoppable force, immovable object, blah, blah, blah.

Either way, it leaves him entirely unable to take things further with you, however much he wants to. There’s something in his way and it’s him.

Your heartache is his own when he has to pull away from you.

“You okay?” you ask him with wide eyes and swollen lips, always so concerned for him.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good,” he’s quick to assure you. He’s still breathless when he fidgets beneath you, trying to prop himself up on his headboard without rubbing his half-hard cock against your thigh.

When he succeeds, he musters a smile that shakes at the edges. “It’s just… you know, not everything… It doesn’t have to be about sex, you know?”

He makes himself as soft as possible for you when he says this. He gets rid of all the usual teasing lilts that tend to lurk on his tongue as the words spill from his mouth. The last thing he wants to do is hurt your feelings or, in some roundabout way, make you think you’re the problem.

He just wants you to know that that isn’t why he’s been wanting to spend so much time with you. There was never an ulterior motive with him other than all the adoration he holds in his hands and his mouth for you.

The strike of hurt that flashes across your face is obvious to only Eddie, who’s spent enough time mapping out your features to know what twitches are ones of discontent. The slight frown that dips between your brows when they scrunch together for half a second comes like a stroke of lightning. It’s a brief flash of purple in the sky that leaves so quickly that it makes you wonder if it was ever there at all.

You fidget on his lap, not resting as comfortably upon him as you had been just moments before. “Oh…” you murmur through soft, jutted-out lips. “Sorry. I, I didn’t—”

“No, it’s not— that’s not what I—” he tries to assure over your insecure stammers, but succeeds only in tripping over himself in return. He cuts himself off with a breathy laugh, shaking his head while his fingers fidget on your hips. “That’s just not what this is about for me, you know? I just… I wanna spend time with you.”

It’s easily the softest thing he’s ever said to you — to anybody, for the matter — and the marshmallow sweetness of it all wraps around you like wisps of pink cotton candy.

Your apprehensiveness twists into something lighter, a pair of twinkling eyes and a bashful smile.

“Oh,” you hum again, obviously more pleased than before. “That’s nice…”

“No one’s ever said that to you before, have they?” Eddie asks you.

He tries to muster a crooked smirk as the words leave his mouth, but he’s got a feeling he already knows the answer. Hearing you affirm his suspicions will do nothing more than make him angry at all the assholes that had you before him, at everyone who taught you that you were good for sex and hardly a thing else.

It makes him wish that he’d gotten to know you sooner. Maybe then you’d understand that he’d be happy just holding you like this and never doing anything more.

You don’t answer him verbally, just shake your head with your lips pursed softly to the side. You look more innocent than anything he’s ever seen before, even with your lipstick smeared on your chin.

He’s still not quite sure how someone could be so reckless with such a fragile thing — to watch you break and not spend the rest of time grieving to know that you’ll never be quite the same again.

There’s a primal instinct that swims in him then, an urge to keep you in his arms and locked in the confines of his trailer forever and ever. He wants to keep the wolves of Hawkins, Indiana from ever getting a whiff of you again. It’d be more than they deserved, anyway.

“God, you have got to get better boyfriends, sweetheart,” Eddie tells you with a playful lilt in his voice despite the anger simmering in his belly.

“Isn’t that what you are?” you giggle.

His world stops.

“Huh?”

You tense at his tenseness. Only when he’s gaping at you does the weight of your words dawn on you. “…Huh?”

The awkward moment goes as quickly as it arrives, chased out by the fit of laughter the two of you are quickly thrown into. Your entwining chuckles rise like smoke in his tiny bedroom and then settle back over you like a fuzzy blanket.

“Are you asking me to be your boyfriend, babe?” Eddie teases.

“Of course not,” you scoff. “Babe.”

“Oh, right, of course not. That would be way too crazy considering we’ve spent, like, every day together and have made each other come… what is it now? Twice?”

“Three times for me,” you correct with you a smile. “You need to catch up, Eddie Spaghetti.”

“Another time?” he offers with a scrunched nose.

“Whenever you want.”

Eddie is grateful for your lack of urgency, even more so for the kiss you press to the tip of his nose.

You peck him on the lips after — once, twice, and then a thiiird, drawn out time — before moving on to his chin and jaw and neck. Whatever part of him you can reach (which is just about everywhere, considering the vantage point you’ve got sitting on his lap), you sprinkle a kiss to it.

It’s an innocent sort of affection, the kind that makes him wonder how it ever came to be in the first place. What evolutionary measures led to this, to you pressing your lips to his skin to show how much you care about him? Eddie doesn’t really want to know the answer, he’s just grateful that it happened in the first place.

You’re so good at it, loving on him. You’re always so kind and so gentle in your way and it makes him feel guilty. There’s a lingering feeling of undeservedness that settles something heavy at the base of his stomach. How could he ever expect you to be so open with him when he hasn’t done the same for you?

A heavy sigh rattles in his deflating chest.

“I gotta tell you something, sweetheart,” he cautions when your lips smack against the thrumming pulse below the left side of his jaw. “Something you’re not gonna like…”

A billion things run through your head all at once. When you part from him, he can see the rollercoaster of emotions each one of them puts you through.

Your first instinct is that he’s got some kind of partner he’s kept hidden from you until now. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve gone steady with a guy who’s then told you about some other girlfriend he had — or, god forbid, a wife.

But then you realize that you surely would’ve had some sort of inkling if that were the case. There’s no way Eddie would’ve been able to spend every second of his day with you — and then another several hours on the phone when you had to leave — without someone else coming along to burst your bubble.

And so far, there haven’t been any angry wives, just the occasionally confused Uncle Wayne.

Then you start thinking he’s about to tell you he wants an open relationship. The you’re great, but I’m just not ready to settle down yet spiel that you’ve heard a thousand times before. Usually when people say that, they mean that they just don’t want to settle down with you.

You’ll become some douchebag’s fuck toy for a month or more until the girl next door comes around. He gets her knocked up in record time, his family forces him to marry her, and they begin their cushy lives together in the center of some cul-de-sac — really settle down, as it were.

You’re not sure if you could take that from Eddie. You could grin and bear if it you had to, take whatever attention he’s willing to give you because who cares if he’s giving it to someone else on the side? You’re just not sure how long you’d last like that.

And then you start to worry that he’s just going to break up with you entirely — it’s not you, it’s blah, I’ll always care about blah, please don’t tell anyone about how we blah-ed. That whole talk.

All the rest of your worries stop mattering so much because you’ve only just called him your boyfriend. And here he goes, about to end it all before it can really even start. That’d be just your luck, you figure.

“Did I do something wrong?” you caution after a few moments of heavy silence.

Eddie’s bleeding heart wrenches at your words, at how sad they sound spilling from your mouth, and how you immediately think that it’s got something to do with you.

He shakes his head feverishly in response. “No. No, it’s not you. You’re… you’re perfect.”

“Okay…” you concede quietly, voice trembling with a lingering disbelief.

“I just… I haven’t been totally honest with you, you know?” the boy admits before his glimmering chocolate eyes fly open and he corrects himself quickly. “And I haven’t lied to you or anything. Not— Not exactly. I just… I wanna be honest with you… As your boyfriend and all.”

You can tell by the sudden weight in his voice that he’s serious. But the fine coat of glowing rose that splotches Eddie’s cheeks after calling himself your boyfriend for the first time makes you melt.

You smile to yourself and start to trace the heart you’d stitched into his t-shirt with your finger.

“Yeah. I mean, we are about to spend our two minutes anniversary together and everything.”

“Exactly,” the boy huffs out a laugh. It lacks its usual jest, though, because of the ice-cold anxiety that drenches him from head to toe and makes his hands and feet go numb.

His fingers tremble where the rest on your waist, trying and failing to find a comfortable position there because, right about now, Eddie feels the most awkward he’s ever felt.

“I just want you to know that I… I’ve never done this before,” he confesses quietly and with his eyes squeezed shut. He prays that he doesn’t have to be any less vague than that.

Your face twists in confusion — your brows furrow and your nose twitches and your head tilts to the side like a puppy. And then you’re laughing, a soft little thing of a giggle that normally makes his heart sing, though now he can only feel it breaking.

“What…?” he tries to scoff out his own chuckle. “Why are you laughing?”

“Because you’ve already told me that, dummy. That you’ve never felt this way before…” you answer, reciting his own words back to him. You haven’t yet forgotten how he’d looked at you as you said them, pale skin made silk under the moonlight while he sparkled beneath the beams of it and his love for you.

“No, it’s… it’s more than that,” he corrects. “I’ve never even had a girlfriend before you. Or anything really.”

You still don’t seem to understand. You just look on at him with uncertainty.

A quiet “okay?” tumbles from your mouth entwined with a nervous giggle, because you don’t understand what’s got him so somber. He’s never dated anyone, you’ve fucked half of Hawkins — these are just facts that went unsaid before now.

And maybe it’s because you’ve never been with a virgin before, but the thought that Eddie might be one hasn’t seemed to cross your mind at all.

It’s that exact thought that scares him.

Because if it hasn’t already, maybe it’s because you’re avoiding it altogether. And why would he ever be the exception?

He opts to bite the bullet and hopes that his heart doesn’t get broken after.

“I’m a virgin. Okay? I’m a complete, total, proper adult virgin,” he blurts with a brazenness he’d previously lacked when it came to all this. “And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before now, but I didn’t, because I liked you and I was scared. So if you wanna yell at me or if you wanna break up with me before our five-minute anniversary, I totally get it, but I should probably let you know that it’ll rip my little virgin heart to shreds, so…”

Eddie ends his nervous ramble with a trembling, lopsided smile that does little to ease the leaden tension he’s just manufactured in the four walls of his bedroom.

He can’t seem to gauge your reaction after the fact, which is strange because he always knows what you’re thinking.

He knows when you’re laughing with him and not at him. You scrunch your nose and giggle when he tells you a funny joke, then tilt your head back and cackle when he trips over the punchline.

He knows the exact moment when something’s started to bother you — when you get real quiet in your bubble of reserved stillness and your eyes start to glaze over. To anyone else, it might just look like a person who’s keeping to themselves. Eddie’s starting to learn that usually means trouble when it comes to you.

He knows the difference between your gentle sort of sadness and when you’re damn near inconsolable. When you cried at the end of Stand By Me, you smiled at him with a glassy tear-filled gaze, then rolled your eyes when he tried to comfort you. The tears only spilled over when you laughed because Eddie pretended you’d hurt him when you’d shoved him away.

But when you’re really upset about something, you don’t show him at all — you fight to keep it all to yourself until you’ve squished the problem into a tiny enough ball that you can forget about all of it.

This is something different.

There’s too much crossing your mind all at once for him to get a good read of you.

You just gape at him, like you’re trying to figure out if he’s joking or not, and then fighting to understand what it means when you realize he’s being serious.

And just when you’ve started to wrap your head around it all, when your brain remembers how to make words again and you realize you haven’t said anything in several agonizing seconds, a foreign voice sounds from down the hallway.

Not foreign in that it was unfamiliar exactly, just foreign in that you and Eddie had spent so much time alone that you were starting to forget that there was an entire world outside of yourselves. A great big world, filled with a great many people, some of whom were your friends who tended to get pretty worried about you.

“Edward Wayne— why the hell is the Chief in my driveway?” his uncle curses from the living room, sounding like he’s speaking through a cigarette in his mouth.

Eddie himself is immediately freaking the fuck out because he figures he must’ve gotten tipped off again. He tries to calculate the quickest way to get you off of him and to all of his cubby holes full of miscellaneous drugs so he can flush them down the toilet before Jim Hopper busts the door down.

And even though you’re not the drug dealer who’s had cops on their ass since they were fifteen in this equation, you look a whole lot more terrified than Eddie does.

Your eyes go wide and the whites of them swim with terror as you launch yourself off of his lap. You don’t spare another glance back at him, not even when you nearly trip over yourself when you shove your sneakers on your feet and shuffle out of the room. He’s forced to follow behind you like a confused puppy as you bound through the trailer at lightning speed.

The haste of your movements startles even Wayne, who halts mid-puff of his cig when you’re in and out of the living room before he can blink. The opening squeak of the screen door and metal slamming against metal is the only thing that punctuates your exit.

“Would it kill you to answer your damn phone every once in a while?” the powerful timbre of Jim Hopper’s angry voice, of which only the man himself could pull off, is muffled until Eddie cautiously slinks onto the porch behind you.

He finds the chief standing beside the Cruiser he’s parked sideways. The door of it is still flung open. A distant beeping sounds from the ignition.

He’s still got on the pressed khakis of his uniform — complete with the golden badge pinned to his chest, darkened sunglasses on the bridge of his nose, and flat-brimmed hat on his head. Even with the majority of his face covered, it does little to hide the anger that radiates off of him like a hot stove eye.

You remain on the porch, shifting your weight on your feet at the top of the steps. “Okay, Hopper, just listen to me for a second—”

“Three days!” he shouts over you, not deterred by your composed nature. “I have been calling you… for three days! Seventy-two hours. No answer!”

Eddie decides to speak up from behind you despite his better judgment. “Yeah, uh, that was kinda my fault,” he confesses with an awkward laugh. “Wouldn’t let her hang up the phone—”

“I’ll deal with you in a second,” Jim interjects firmly and without thinking. He goes back to berating you with an admirable finesse. “Buckley wanted my head on a pike when I wouldn’t file a missing person’s report in the first twenty-four hours, but seventy-two? She was gonna kill me!”

Rather than argue with him, like every fiber of your being so desperately wants to, you make the difficult choice to concede with a heavy sigh. Because you don’t doubt that Robin was on his ass the second she realized you weren’t answering your phone or at your apartment when she and Steve dropped by.

She did tend to be on the overprotective side, after all, which obviously paired well with her melodramatic disposition.

“I’m sorry, okay? I’ve just been… busy.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard the one before,” the man answers bitterly.

“It’s different, Hopper!”

“I’ve heard the one before, too!”

Eddie can only assume that the both of you are communicating telepathically, what with the way your synchronized glares seem to say a thousand words (probably every curse imaginable, if he had to guess) without your mouths ever moving once.

He stands on the outskirts of it all, feeling a bit stuck in the thorniness of such a tense silence, like any slight movement might cut him.

Jim moves slowly, akin to a creeping snake, as his hands raise to remove the glasses from his face. Their lack reveals the ice-cold glare that was previously hiding beneath them.

“Get in the car—”

“—No,” you reject just as the direction leaves his mouth because you knew it was coming.

Jim inhales sharply and smacks his lips against his teeth, like a father whose child is most ardently testing his patience. He plants his work boot in the gravel and his hand on his hips. His steel gaze goes far off for a moment before flitting back to you again.

“…Get in the car or I put you in handcuffs.”

Your breath hitches at the threat. You squint over at him. “You wouldn’t.”

Jim smiles at you, but it’s more threatening than anything else. “We both know that I would.”

Eddie’s eyes flit between the both of you. He can tell that Hopper’s serious and that you’re trying to decide whether or not to call his bluff, with your arms crossed defensively over your chest and lips pursed in a tight line.

You ultimately decide not to. Because Hopper has, in fact, done that before. And even though the circumstances are very, very different, you wouldn’t put it past him to do it again. So you all but stomp your foot like a protesting child and spin on your heel to storm back inside the trailer.

Eddie’s nervous gaze flits between your disappearing form and the storm cloud of a police chief standing in his driveway. When their eyes lock, he realizes he should probably say something. He cocks his thumb over his shoulder and stammers, “I should— I should probably…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. He catches the front door before it shuts and slithers through the crack of it to follow in behind you.

“Wait, was he— was he being serious about that?” Eddie wonders once you’re back in his bedroom.

It feels a lot less cozy than it did minutes before, less like the bubble of refuge that you thought nobody could pierce and more like a lonely space that feels entirely too empty. You pluck your things scattered around his room, and it starts to feel less and less like home with parts of you gone from it.

“I don’t know,” you answer within a sigh as you collect your cardigan from the back of his desk chair and shrug the thing back over your shoulders again.

“But it’s happened before?”

“Yeah. Once. When I was…” you confess quietly, then trail off. You get your bag from his nightstand and haphazardly shove your scrunchie, sunglasses, and chapstick into the bottom of it. “…When I was in a bad way— it doesn’t matter now.”

Eddie so desperately wants to pry.

He’d wanted to make a joke before, about the handcuffs — something less than tasteful about them and you and Hopper and some good ol’ freaky deaky that you'd scold him for after. But he decides not to now because you sound so strangely solemn about the whole thing, as though it was a story you buried deep with the intent of never bringing it up again.

“You don’t have to go with him if you don’t want to, you know that, right?”

“Of course, I do,” you scoff at his worries, not nearly as threatened by Jim as the rest of Hawkins. You move to stand in front of him in the center of his room and meet his furrowed brows with a soft grin. “He’s not gonna do anything, he’s just pissed. He’ll berate me on the drive back to my apartment and then it’ll be like nothing ever happened.”

That seems to please Eddie well enough, though he’s still a bit disheartened at your leaving.

“I guess we couldn’t keep spending time together like this, huh?” he teases lightly, like the realization of it doesn’t make his chest ache. “Sorta forgot about the rest of the world… whatever that is.”

“It was fun while it lasted,” you tell him with a shrug and a whimsical sigh.

“Wait for me, will ya?” he jokes, if only to make you laugh and to feel like he’s stuck in some sickly sweet ending of a romcom for a couple moments more.

You roll your eyes at his dramatics but let him wrap you in his arms anyway. His hands find purchase on your elbows, thumbs rubbing soothingly along the outsides of them. “How about a kiss, then?” he offers when the urge to feel you because too great to bear. “For our ten-minute anniversary and all?”

“You never have to ask me, Eds,” you assure with a laugh. You rise to the tips of your toes and he meets you halfway.

Home is in your mouth. It’s warm and cozy and safe there. It’s easily the most familiar place he’s ever known, with your bottom lip nestled between his own. He feels homesick when you part from him.

“You’re not mad at me?” he wonders quietly, feeling a bit like a cowering child from where he stands in front ahead of you — eased only when you shake your head almost immediately in response.

“No. I couldn’t be even if I wanted to, I think.”

“Okay. That’s… That’s good.”

“We can talk about it later, if you want. After I get lurch off my ass.”

He tries not to smile too wide, but it’s hard not to beam every time he looks at you. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll… I’ll see you around, I guess?” he stumbles over himself, having forgotten how to say goodbye to you.

It’s equally as hard for you too, it seems, because you nod at him and turn to leave and then realize once you’re halfway down the hallway that you might not survive if you don’t kiss him again.

So you turn and rush back, catching Eddie with his back turned and spinning him around so you can peck him again. You feel his cheeks heat beneath your palm and his sigh against your cupid’s bow and his lips melt against your own.

You etch each tingling sensation into the edges of your mind in the hope that you won’t drive yourself completely insane when you inevitably start to miss him like crazy.

You focus on that and on him when you find Hopper and his stupid proud dad smirk. It’s the only reason you don’t punch him in the jaw and tuck and roll out of the Cruiser when the silence becomes so slowly insufferable.

You’re starting to think Jim left the radio off on purpose. You’ve never known the guy not to drive around without the strumming of an old-school folk song to accompany him. You figure it must be some sort of intimidation tactic, to make you so uncomfortable that you break. You’re a lot closer to that than either of you realize.

You spare a glance over at the man next to you. He hasn’t looked at you once since you get in the car. He’s got one hand at three o’clock on the steering wheel and the other with its elbow propped up on the door as he scratches at the stubble on his jaw.

He’s too at ease not to be bothered. This is obviously some kind of front he’s putting on to conceal his inner irritation.

You give on the lecture you’d been trying to prepare yourself for and exhale sharply through your nose. Your fingers fidget on your thighs as you kick your restless feet up on the console.

“Get your feet off the dash,” Jim scolds without missing a beat.

You huff and obey. “Okay, this is crazy— can’t you just yell at me already?”

He barely wastes a second.

“I cannot believe you right now!” he seethes through gritted teeth, stewing in a dad-like sort of anger.

“It was three days, Hopper!”

“You know what happened the last time no one heard from you for three days?” he shouts back.

You tip your head back against the seat and groan. You should’ve known he was going to play that card.

He waves an accusatory finger between the both of you. “You and me— we had a deal, remember? You let me check in on you. You agreed to that. You visit your little high school friends, and I see you at work, so I can make sure you’re not off somewhere killing yourself.”

Hopper becomes a casualty to the tense silence he created then, when you don’t retort with some comeback of your own and force him to feel every ounce of pressure from the leaden quiet.

He sighs a great big, too loud sigh and shifts in his seat. His softening gaze flits between you and the road. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean it like that, okay? I just meant it, you know, figuratively. I wasn’t… trying to be mean.”

“When have you ever cared about being mean?” you monotone.

“I don’t,” he assures. “I’m just not trying to hurt your feelings, alright? Jeez…”

You try not to take too much pride in the man’s half-apology, though you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t a little bit rewarding.

Jim Hopper’s practically an iceberg. He only melts for his kid, Joyce Boyers, and you, apparently.

It’s why he’s always so damn protective over you. He’s developed this sort of deep-rooted urge to keep you safe after watching you make every wrong decision a human being could possibly make. And when you mess up, because you do mess up, he feels like it’s partially his fault — that, if he’d done more, he could’ve kept you safer.

It makes you feel like a burden most of the time, but you know it’s above yourself and mostly out of your control.

You’d known of each other for a while before you really met, because a troublemaker and police chief in such a small town are bound to. But somewhere down the line, he found you in a valley of mourning for someone that was still alive and you found him in a black hole of grief for someone who wasn’t. The empty and infinite voids within you both were stitched slowly together all over again.

Jim Hopper was the dad you never had. You were the daughter he couldn’t.

And you thought something might change after he adopted El. You figured he might forget about you because it wasn’t like it was his job to watch after you or anything. Playing pretend always felt nice, but you knew it wasn’t real.

It was to Jim, though, who’d developed a similar adoration for you as the one he had for Sara. He hasn’t been able to forget about you in the same way he hasn��t been able to forget about her.

Every night, after he’s scrubbed the day off his body and washed it all down with a lukewarm beer, he lays on his pull-out bed in the small living room of his cabin and goes through a checklist in his head.

He makes sure that he’s checked on El and reminds himself to wake up early to make her breakfast the next morning before he brings Joyce coffee at Melvald’s — Joyce. She always comes next on his list, always right after El, and then you.

He forces himself to calm down when his blood pressure inevitably spikes at the thought of not having heard from you all day. He reminds himself that he saw you at work on his lunch break and that he’ll see you again tomorrow.

Jim hums to himself as he settles more comfortably into his springy cot, deciding that he’ll try a new wine he can’t pronounce when he sees you at Enzo’s the next day and that he’ll drink it while he rambles about Joyce or El’s new boyfriend.

He drifts to sleep with thoughts of Sara.

You’re as ingrained into his mind as every other person he’s grown to love.

He stopped worrying about never getting you out a long time ago. Like a tomato sauce stain on a dress shirt, he knows he’ll never get you out of his head. He knows even more so that he doesn’t want to — no matter how much you annoy him or how angry you make him when you don’t answer his calls.

“Sorry…” you murmur and swallow down whatever mundane argument you could’ve spewed then, at the result of his sudden warmth. You turn to gaze out the window and trace the edges of the puffy white clouds with your eyes. “I wasn’t thinking about that — the… deal, or whatever… Honestly, I was a little too busy being happier than I think I’ve ever been in my life, so…”

You don’t see the dramatic eye roll he gives you in response, but you can’t miss the hearty groan that spills from his mouth.

“What?” you laugh in response. “Have you never been a kid in love before?”

It’s almost jarring how he goes from huffy to concerned in a fraction of a second. His head snaps over to you, jaw clenched and eyes suddenly stern and swimming with a lingering fear.

“Love?” he repeats like he must’ve heard you wrong. “Love— That’s— That’s what this is?”

You shrug. “I don’t know… Maybe…”

His eyes flutter shut for a moment. “Please don’t tell me you’ve said that to each other yet. This guy was just a crush four days ago.”

“No, Hopper. We haven’t. I mean, he literally just told me he was a virgin, so I don’t think we’re even close to—”

“A virgin?” Jim echoes, voice high-pitched and giddy. He beams at you from beneath his bushy mustache and slaps you a little too hard on your arm when he laughs. “Shit, teacup. Are you runnin’ out of options over there or somethin’?”

You twist your body to hit him back harder with your right hand. “It’s not funny, Hopper,” you scold. “He’s nice.”

“You said that about Hargrove once—”

“This is different,” you monotone before the words have the chance to leave his mouth.

“Yeah? How do you know?”

The question stumps you for a moment because you don’t know — you can’t.

You’d never admit it out loud, but Hopper was right; you’re still not quite sure how you ever could’ve thought that Billy Hargrove was a good guy, but you did. You felt a similar feeling of elation with him as you do now with Eddie, an otherworldly sort of happiness that makes you feel like you’re the only person it’s ever happened to.

And here you are now, sometime later and reveling in the aftermath, still gluing pieces of your shattered heart together.

You treat love like a drug. You use and use and use until it stops being a fun thing and becomes a crutch you can’t live without. That’s always when it starts to hurt you, but you’re in too deep to stop craving it.

And you know it’s bound to happen all over again, but you have to believe Eddie’s different or else you might as well fall into the deep pit of despair you’ve been trying this whole time to crawl out of.

He makes you happy, really really happy, and you’d rather gamble that he hurts you than give it all without even trying.

“I… don’t,” you conclude after a few moments.

Jim seems surprised by your admission, shooting you an incredulous look with his untamed brows raised to his hairline.

You meet his look with a wavering grin. “But he makes me really happy, Hop. Like… It feels like it should be illegal or something. He makes me feel so good my heart hurts. There’s like this—”

“Ugh,” the man grumbles in disgust, sullen all over again.

“I didn’t mean it like that, you weirdo,” you chide.

A grin twitches beneath his mustache in response. “I know you didn’t… ‘Cause Munson’s a virgin.”

“Oh my god!” you groan. “I didn’t even mean to tell you that, okay? Leave him alone— and a swear to god, Hopper, if you make fun of him—”

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with it, alright? I mean, he’s got the expert around to show him the ropes— ow!” You cut off his stupid joke and accompanying sardonic grin with a fist to his shoulder.

Steve and Robin tend to be quite the formidable duo.

They’ve barely got a brain cell to rub together between them, but there’s still something strangely intimidating about them when they’re both angry. It feels a bit like they’re your I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed parents, and you’re the scolded child taking your lashings in the form of a lecture.

It’s what you feel like now, sitting across from them in your designated booth at Benny’s Burgers — the one by the window in the corner. It’s far enough away from the bustle of the entrance but close enough still to gossip about the assholes you used to know from high school when they walk through the door.

“You scare the shit out of us when you go AWOL like that, you know?” Steve confesses, still soft even though you know there’s a more upset part of himself he keeps hidden for now.

His chocolate gaze flits between you and the pile of fries in the middle of the table that the three of you share. He finds the one covered in the most salt and pops it into his mouth.

“AWOL?” you echo with a distant laugh when you realize how much he sounds like Hopper. “It was three days.”

“Yeah, and you fell off the face of the earth,” Robin retorts, half-muffled through the hearty gulp of strawberry milkshake starting to melt in her mouth.

“You guys are acting like I went halfway across the country,” you scoff. “I was with Eddie. At his trailer.”

“Exactly!”

Steve’s face contorts mid-bite. “Wait, you were with him? The freak?”

It makes you roll your eyes. He’d been too busy hopelessly flirting with the waitress at the counter to hear the entire recounting of your absence to Robin, though it was more of you gushing about it than anything else.

“Yep,” you answer.

“You skipped out on movie night to be with… Eddie Munson?” he reiterates for himself, as though there was any correlation between watching the same three movies while gorging on greasy junk food with your best friends and falling more in love with a guy you were already head over heels for as he tried to explain away the unopened box of condoms collecting dust underneath his bed.

Both are equally fun in their own ways, but totally totally different.

“How did you survive without me, Steven?” you joke back in response.

“He didn’t,” Robin quips.

“So… what? You guys just went on some kinda bender? I don’t get it. Did you just fuck the entire time or something?”

“Well, contrary to popular belief, I can actually spend time with someone and not fuck them—”

“Okay, that’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“And to answer your question — no, we didn’t fuck,” you confess, then elaborate more slowly, a tad bit awkwardly. “Because he told me today that… he is a… virgin.”

Your words seem to settle over each of them differently. Robin stills with her lips wrapped around the candy-cane striped straw then furrows her brows, as though their meaning hits her a few seconds after the fact.

Steve, meanwhile, goes entirely agape in an amazed sort of shock. His eyes go wide, his brows fly up and hide beneath the bangs that hang down over his forehead, and his jaw falls open. And then he starts to smile, a subtle hint of a grin on the corners of his pink lips, like he finds it funny.

“I knew it,” he murmurs to himself.

“…Why are you smiling like that?”

His smirk widens. “That freak said he screwed Vicki Carmichael senior year. I knew he was lying.”

“And why do you look so proud of yourself, exactly?” Robin asks him.

“Because now I feel less bad about never fucking her,” the boy explains like it’s obvious. He set his elbows on the table and gestures wildly with his hands. “I always thought the freak one-upped me because she, like, never gave me the time of day after Hargrove came along, you know? But… It’s good to know that I’m still king.”

His delighted grin is met with confused looks from both you and Robin, who look upon him with twisted eyebrows and squinted eyes.

“Are you not aware of how strange everything that comes out of your mouth is?” you ask him, only partly joking.

“At least that settles why he wouldn’t let you give him a blow job,” the brunette girl concludes with a shrug as she slouches against the booth. “Poor guy was probably shitting bricks about it.”

You realize then that it does make sense, why he’d always been so adamant about your pleasure and never his own. Why he always touched you like you were some fragile thing he might break, and like everything was new to him. Because it was new to him. All of it.

And even though it baffles you to no end how he went his entire life without someone wanting to jump his bones (because truth be told, you’re doing a terrible job at hiding your want to do just that), the fact still remains — Eddie Munson is a virgin.

He’s a virgin with an acute infatuation for the local slut, both of you freaks in your own right.

It just adds more intricacy to a puzzle that already feels so complicated.

“I’ve never been with a virgin before,” you admit quietly, mostly to yourself, as you train your gaze on the straw wrapper you curl around your finger. “It’s different… Scary.”

“Why?” Robin wonders aloud.

“I don’t know. I just— I don’t know what to do now.”

“Just do what you always do,” Steve tells you like it’s that simple. He folds his arms on the table and leans in closer to you. “Experience is good. Okay? Experience is key.”

“No, it’s not that. I think I’m just… I’m scared I’m gonna treat him the way, you know, that I was treated. And I don’t wanna… I don’t wanna do that to him.”

You’re not sure when the shift started, when you stopped being a person to people. You only know that you were something less than that. Somewhere between junior and senior year, you become a plaything that anyone could do anything they wanted to with, and you were too starved for physical affection to tell them otherwise.

You liked the attention. You liked feeling loved, even if it was only for a minute and a half, and all you had to show for it was a pool of cooling come on your belly.

Eddie’s the fragile thing now that you were then.

He was a delicate little thing that can break so easily, something you could split in half if you wanted to.

You don’t.

You want so desperately to be kind, but you’re scared you won’t know how to, because no one’s ever been kind to you.

Steve reaches across the table for you, taking a wild stab at an attempt for affection after several months of being scared to touch you — he did enough of that, he thought, and he’d hurt you. But he can see the lingering ache hiding in your glazed-over eyes and feels an overwhelming urge to quell your worry.

Five warm fingers wrap around your wrist, not too tight or too strong, just enough to stop you from cutting circulation off to the tip of your pointer finger and to remind you that he’s still there.

“Trust me,” he tells you with a sudden soft swimming in his caramel-colored eyes and a smile playing on his lips. “You couldn’t do that to anybody. Not even if you wanted to.”

Your heart nearly stops at his words, at the sheer kindness of them, and at the way he holds you in the soft way you’re used to only Eddie holding you. Your eyes go wide when they flit up to him and then start to sting with the weight of unshed tears.

You’re quick to blink them away though, while you playfully shrug him off and joke — “stop being so nice before I get the wrong idea, Harrington” — because it’s easier than accepting his tenderness.

Robin takes one look at his fond gaze, all gooey and dripping with honey, and then at your rolling eyes and accompanying shy grin, and groans at the softness of it all. She slides out from the confines of the booth and grumbles something about getting a refill on her milkshake.

“Some fries too, while you’re up?” Steve offers with a hopeful grin.

He’s met with the girl’s signature scowl.

“Please,” you finish for him.

Robin grins. “Anything for you,” she croons, if only to make the boy pout, before skipping off to the counter.

She leans her elbows upon the red wooden laminate top and smiles that same sickly sweet smile for Benny by the grill — no doubt trying to get her refills for free.

Even though the bearded man seems unimpressed with her presence, you know that he’ll give them to her free of charge. He’s always had a soft spot for her, one of the only people in town who could rival his wit.

The door dings open, a familiar and high-pitched chime that often becomes more frequent as the evening progresses. This time it lets in a foreign, bitter breeze when the door swings open and closed again.

You can feel the chill from a distance — it resembles the crispness of autumn despite being comfortably settled in the middle of March. It nearly takes your breath away, prickles your skin and makes you grimace back a shiver.

When your eyes leave Steve, a difficult feat considering he’s doing an alarmingly good impression of a walrus by sticking fries in his upper lip, you find that it wasn’t abnormally cold air at all. It was a Peter Parker spider sense form of anxiety that had felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured over you.

Billy Hargrove used to turn heads when he walked into a room.

Now he just sucks all the air out of it.

And it’s not like you haven’t seen him since the break up; for a while, the asshole was painted on the backs of your eyelids — he all but haunted your consciousness. You’ll see him around town on occasion, in his sunglasses and jean jacket and too-tight denim pants, while he struts around Main Street with his new girlfriend (otherwise known as, his flavors of the month).

You think this is the first time you’ve been in the same room as him since your split, though. It feels like it must be with the way your throat starts to tighten and you forget how to breathe.

All at once, you’re scrambling for an exit. It’s like Billy’s a fire and his smoke is rapidly filling your lungs. Your legs start to tremble when your adrenaline spike. Your brain tells you to get out as quickly as you can before he burns you.

Steve notices the look of fear flood your features like a dark storm cloud. You were laughing just seconds before the door opened, equal parts with him and at him, but now you just looked terrified — like a child who’s just spotted a boogeyman in her closet.

He turns in the booth to find what haunted thing has just caught your eye and finds that it’s worse than any monster you could conjure up. It’s Billy fucking Hargrove, with his pretty hair and his pretty smile and his pretty girl under his arm.

His presence filled targeted, almost. Like he chose to come to this diner, on this day and at this time just to fuck with the group of you.

“Don’t even look at him,” Steve advises when he turns back to you. “Look at me, okay? He’s not even worth it. That asshole doesn’t deserve to ruin our day.”

And you try to listen to him. You try really, really hard to let him change that subject to the cold fries or Robin taking too long or a combination of the two, but you can’t focus on him. You’re already so overwhelmed at the sight of Billy that you can’t focus on anything else but him.

You settle on the fact that you might just have to drag Steve and Robin out by their wrists because you can’t sit in this booth any longer, and you definitely aren’t hungry anymore.

And that’s when he spots you.

Your eyes lock and you freeze, immediately averting your gaze but catching the sudden sparkle in his own as he grins a sly, sadistic grin.

“No way,” you hear him say with a laugh under his breath. The sound of his voice makes you tense. You hadn’t realized how at peace you’d been all this time without having to hear it. Now it feels like so many little needles piercing your skin.

“Fancy seeing you guys here,” he greets after he’s made a b-line for your booth and dragged Vicki Carmichael along with him. He smiles with all of his pearly whites while he smacks pungent wintergreen gum between them.

When he slides into the booth beside you, he does so without invitation, and forces Vicki to slink in next to Steve.

And like it wasn’t already awkward enough, you know Vicki — like, know her, know her. There was a drunken makeout at a Halloween party in ’82. Then a one night stand with her brother before he left for college in ’83. And then her Tom Selleck clone of a father at a sleepover for her eighteenth birthday in ’85.

You’re not exactly proud of it, but you’ve gotten a rather hefty taste of her family tree, and the fact that both of you know it makes it that much more uncomfortable.

“We’re kinda busy here, Hargrove,” Steve tells him when he notices how comfortable he’s making himself in your booth.

“Ooh… Is this a little date?” Billy teases with a grin.

Steve’s face falls. “…No.”

“Oh, right,” he nods, though the sardonic lilt in his voice tells you that he already knew the answer. He crosses his arms on the tabletop and turns to look at you with eyes bluer than any ocean. They flicker up and down your form. Suddenly, you feel self-conscious in your baggy jean and tank top duo.

“You’ve been seeing that guy, haven’t you? What’s his name again? The, uh— the freak?”

“His name is Eddie,” Steve answers for you, defending him because you can’t find the words to.

“That’s it,” Billy snaps his fingers, then points. He nudges you with his shoulder. The familiar feel of his jean jacket against your skin makes you wince. “God, you must be runnin’ out of steam over there, huh? I mean… the freak? Seriously? You couldn’t do any better than that?”

The jokes were tolerable coming from Jim and Steve and Robin — they weren’t funny by any means, but you could stomach them because you knew they were jokes. But this? This was just to hurt you. And it works too easily because Billy knows exactly how to break you. He knows all the wires to cut and buttons to push because the puzzle of shattering your psyche is one he memorized long ago.

“He’s actually a really nice guy,” you manage through a tight throat, still staring at your fidgeting hands.

“Well, that’s good,” he hums like you need his approval. “It’s about time, right?”

You huff and choose to entertain him despite your better judgment. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He only shrugs. “I don’t know... Just, you know, that found a guy willing to settle for you. That’s all.”

“Settle?” you repeat, trying to laugh despite how tiny your voice sounds.

“You know what I mean, c’mon,” the blonde boy chuckles. “Sluts are fun and all, but they’re not the kinda girls you wanna settle down with. Steve knows what I mean.”

“No, I don’t,” Steve monotones quickly and without thinking, gaze hardened and jaw clenched. “And you need to leave.”

“I”m hungry, Billy,” Vicki whines, feeling every ounce of the tension surrounding her — like syrup or quicksand. She slides her permed bangs from her eyes and tucks a rogue strawberry strand behind her ear in a nervous tick. “Can’t we just get something to eat?”

“Alright, alright. I know when I’m not wanted,” Billy chuckles.

You grumble bitterly under your breath. “Apparently not…”

“I’ll see you around, Harrington,” Billy singsongs with a grin that wreaks of insincerity while his girlfriend slides out from the booth. He turns to look at you and squints. “Don’t be a stranger, alright? Matter of fact, point Munson my way, and I’ll give him a few pointers.”

You’re uncowed by his offer and angered by his mention of Eddie. Your eyes are stern and unwavering as you meet his gaze for the first time since he sat down beside you.

“I think you could learn a thing or two from him, actually,” you retort, words sounding sweeter than the venom lingering behind them.

Billy’s grin only widens, impressed by your arguing. “Ooh… I forgot about the mouth you had on you, sweetheart.”

The use of the nickname makes you cringe. It doesn’t sound nearly as fulfilling as it does when it comes from Eddie. Now, it just sounds artificial — degrading.

He leans in close to you like he’s about to tell you a secret and splays his arm along the back of the booth behind you. The nicotine on his breath makes you grimace; it’s intoxicating when it comes from Eddie, disgusting from the boy sitting next to you.

His eyes are bluer so up close, darker than you remember them being, and you notice he’s trimmed his usual stubble to a patchy mustache. He looks like the grown-up version of the boy you used to know, visually more mature but still the same in his way.

“When he gets bored of you — because, let’s be serious, he will get bored of you — you know where to find me,” Billy murmurs to you, a cynical smirk on the edges of his lips. “I’ll make sure you stay nice and broken in for the next dozen guys that want a taste—”

Steve can’t hear a word from where he sits across the booth, but he’s fuming with fists clenched under the table anyway. He hates how close Billy is to you, more so how uncomfortable you look with the proximity and how his words make you flinch.

“Alright, you need to leave,” he blurts. “Now.”

Before the blonde could respond with a quip of his own, Robin all but teleports to the head of the table. She’s standing in front of the four of you suddenly, carrying a basket of fries and a strawberry milkshake and wearing a frown on her face.

“You’re in my seat, dickwad,” she monotones, even though she hadn’t been sitting next to you before. She’s not the least bit threatened by the Californian douchebag.

Billy smiles up at her anyway. “I was wondering where the third musketeer was! Still a carpet muncher, Buckley?”

“Happily.”

“What do ya say me and you head up to Lover’s Lake later?” the boy offers despite his date shifting awkwardly a few feet away. It’s a joke, for reasons that are more than obvious, and that’s what makes it so unbearably unfunny.

He slinks out from the booth. The lack of his warmth is strangely comforting and you’re able to breathe for the first time in five minutes. He stretches his back out when he stands to his full height in front of Robin, then shrugs with his hands splayed on his hips.

“Maybe you just need some good dick. I mean… we’re gonna die anyway, right?”

“I’d rather,” she quips with a rouge-tinted smile.

The way it makes him laugh is startling. He finds a strange humor in being rejected — in most things, really. You still haven’t forgotten the cackles that left his bloodied mouth when Steve delivered blow after blow to the boy’s face in the middle of his living room, like it was all a fun game to him.

That was, of course, before Billy got the upper hand and nearly killed Steve that night. He laughed about it that too, until Max knocked him out with a baseball bat.

He’s got the same grin on his face now as he did then when he turns to look at you. A pink and pretty smirk, just wide enough to reveal the dimple in his left cheek. It’s nothing short of taunting, like he’s mocking you without having to say anything at all.

“Don’t be a stranger, alright?” Billy repeats. He keeps smacking his gum between his teeth and winks at you before spinning on the heel of his boot. He guides Vicki with him to the counter with a hand on the back pocket of her jeans.

Even when Robin slides in next to you and effectively pierces the bubble of tension that had already started to shrink with Billy’s leaving, you still find it hard to breathe. You have to keep reminding yourself, forcing oxygen in and out with wobbling breaths through your nose, or else you just stop altogether.

The other two move on rather quickly, having no trouble finding their voices again after he’s gone. Their words are muffled, though, like they’re underwater.

“I forgot what an asshole he was,” Robin grumbles.

“Well, I didn’t,” Steve retorts, eyes scanning the basket of fries for the most strategic pick of the bunch. “I can still barely breathe through my nose.”

“That’s because you didn’t go to a doctor, dingus.”

“Because I didn’t need a doctor, Robin.”

“Yeah, because being concussed three times in two years is so healthy—”

Your eyes act like magnets as they stay locked on Billy’s form. He leans in closer to Vicki to tell her something, then pats her once on the ass before walking towards the exit again. The door dings when he swings it open. Through the window, you catch him pulling out a red and white pack of cigarettes — the same brand of Marlboro Reds he’s been smoking since he was in middle school.

“You okay?” you hear Steve say, but it sounds too far away for you to realize he’s talking to you.

Robin nudges you with her shoulder to jog you from your stupor. You blink hard once and then turn to her with wide eyes. “What?”

“You doing alright over there?” the girl wonders.

“Yeah,” your answer is too quick and too high-pitched to be true. “Fine.”

“Like, fine as in you’re actually fine, or fine as in, if I leave you alone for too long, I’m gonna find you living under a bridge like a troll?”

You roll your eyes at her. “Fine as in, if someone bums me a cigarette, I’ll be good as new.”

Steve huffs when you hold out the palm of your hand toward him. He’s the only one of you who smokes recreationally enough to carry a lighter and pack of cigs with him. You swear he only keeps it with him because the weight of them makes him feel cool. You’re grateful for them now, though, and for the escape they unexpectedly provide you.

His fingers are warm when they brush your hand. The metal zippo he drops in the center of it is far colder and carries a comforting sort of weight to it. He thumbs a cigarette from the pack for you, and you take it with a sardonic smile and a sickly sweet “thank you, Stevie.”

Robin gets out of the booth to let you slide out of it.

The door chimes again, this time over your head when you open it.

Fresh, spring air nearly knocks you on your ass when it hits you for the first time. You realize then, that you’d forgotten to tell yourself to breathe and now your vision’s all swimmy. The cool breeze tries its hardest to quell your swelling anger, but you’re still at a simmering boil. Fists clenched over the lighter and cig duo in your palm and your sneakers slapping angrily against the cracked pavement.

That’s what signals your arrival, the raging stomps that echo in the alleyway Billy takes his smoke break in.

The boy takes a puff of his cigarette and smirks on the exhale at the sight of you. All he needs is one glance to see how angry he’s made you. It’s an innocent, childlike sort of rage that’s got you all scrunched face and red — a heartbroken girl on a war path.

“I knew you couldn’t resist me, sweetheart,” he taunts with his signature sarcastic smile. He holds his arms at his sides, like he’s waiting for some kind of embrace from you. “You used to be like that all the time — all over me, you know? Clingy.”

“You know what you used to be?” you ask him once you’ve planted yourself a few feet away from him, fists shaking at your sides in a nearly overwhelming mixture of rage and apprehension.

“What’s that?”

“Nice! You used to be nice! Or do you not remember that?” you wonder rhetorically. Your anger fades slowly, an ebbing tide, as a reminiscent sadness eclipses your fury — a flood of blue in all your red.

The sharp frown between your brows crumbles and so does your clenched jaw as your harsh features crumple like a balled-up piece of paper. You look upon the man that broke your heart with all the shattered pieces of it.

“You used to let me sleep over at your place when I was too scared to sleep alone at mine, and you’d bring me food when I told you I hadn’t eaten all day, and you’d take me on drives when you knew I hadn’t left my apartment in days,” you ramble in a single breath, gesticulating wildly with your hands — waving them at him and at you and the still air between. They fall hopelessly to your sides.

“You used to be so sweet, Billy…” you conclude with a wavering breath. Your chest trembles on the inhale as you straighten out your shoulders and lift your chin, trying your best not to look as defeated as you feel. “And you know what you are now?”

Billy grins that stupid grin at you, the one that almost looks kind. Almost. It’s still soft in all its insincerity, like a parent entertaining their kid that’s gone on some meaningless tangent.

“No, sweetheart,” he answers after a beat. “What am I?”

“Not nice.”

He scoffs out a laugh.

“You used to tell me, all the time, how scared you were about ending up like you’re dad—” he tenses at the mention of the man, of his own monster in his own closet. “—He’d beat you black and blue every night, and I’d bandage all your cuts and put makeup on you when you begged, so you could go out and pretend like everything was normal. And you know what? You’re just like him!”

Billy doesn’t cower when you walk closer to him. He’s got no reason to be afraid of you, but your words hit him in a place far deeper than a thousand bloodied fists.

“What he did to you, is exactly what you do to me… Or do you know see that?” you don’t wait for a sarcastic reply, mostly because you wouldn’t see the indicators of it through the tears that blur your vision. “You’re not punching me, but it feels like you are. You break me over and over and over and I have to pretend like everything’s just normal and that we—”

“Real mature of you. To bring out the dad-card,” he interjects, if only to stop your ramblings so that he might not have to hear the truth that comes with them.

“You used to he nice,” you repeat, you agonize, you deflate. “Or… Or did you never use to be?”

The shell of your mind answers for you, paints itself with all the memories you’ve been trying like hell to forget for the past six months. It’s easier to pretend the bad things aren’t real than unravel all the reasons why they were bad to begin with, you find.

The negative memories come together like renaissance paintings — dark and gloomy and blotted with too realistic tears and spatters of blood. The oil stains the backs of your eyelids, destined to remain there forever like paintings in museum that’ll stand the test of time if you nurse them well enough.

You hadn’t yet been able to forget the screams and the cracks of fists colliding with bone. They tend to keep you up at night, even when you squeeze your eyes shut and beg for your memory to be wiped away completely.

Billy crouches over Steve’s chest and pummels wholehearted punches to the boy’s face, never tiring in their force, even well after the boy goes limp underneath him. You beg for him to stop while trying like hell to shield Max from the sight of it all.

For a while, you’d blamed yourself for it — for Max being there in the first place and for Steve’s cuts and bruises.

You’d taken the girl and sought refuge in the Harrington home after witnessing a rather heated fight between Billy and his father. There was a sudden urge within you to take her far away from it before it ended how it always did — in weeping cuts and salty tears and insincere apologies when the cops were called.

But you made it worse anyway.

For Max, for Steve.

And you apologized profusely for it after, cried to the boy in his bathroom while you nursed his cuts like you were the one who put them there.

When he told you it wasn’t your fault, you didn’t believe him. Not until now. Not until you realized that Billy had always been angry — always raging with an ocean of fear and grief and violence.

When he fought with his sister, you thought it was normal, that that’s just what siblings did. But the way she cried to you after couldn’t have been normal. Neither could the unearthly fury that washed over Billy like a riptide when he found out you and Max had sought safety in Steve The Hair Harrington — angered that it was Steve and that he couldn’t be that for the both of you.

And then there was the fights. The yelling and screaming and crying fights that felt like the end of the world every single time. The kind of fights you shouldn’t be having when you’re eighteen. You thought that maybe there was some normalcy in the cheating and the secrecy and Billy’s accompanying assholery because that was all you’d ever known.

Or maybe because you had to tell yourself that was normal in relationships because you didn’t want your’s to end. Billy was the first guy to give a damn about you in ways that went beyond just sex. How were you supposed to just give that up?

But then there’s Eddie — Eddie The Freak Munson, who was really just sunshine wrapped up in leather jackets and wild hair and chunky rings and metal music. He makes you happy. The sort of happy that makes you suspicious because something bad has to counteract all the goodness he makes you feel.

Maybe that’s what this was.

Seeing Billy after having wrapped yourself in a blanket of Eddie’s warmth made you see somehow more clearly. He loves on you so much that it’s made a mockery of everything else.

Whatever you had with Billy wasn’t normal, it was a goddamn shit show. He loved you when it was convenient and then had you believing it was the real thing, that you wouldn’t find it anywhere else, when you tried to leave him.

It was a lie, all of it.

The realization makes you falter.

“Oh, god…” you sigh, voice fragile like cracking glass. “Maybe you never used to be…”

For the first time ever, you see Billy’s grin shake. The edges of it flitter, like he’s fighting to keep the corners quirked up. And his eyes have gone a lighter shade of blue, the way they always did when he blinked back angry tears as he talked about his father.

It isn’t rage glassing his eyes now. It’s something sadder, but still as real — something you never got from him in the two years you were together.

He tries, still, to cover it all up. He smacks his lips against his teeth, sympathetically. “Sorry it took you this long to figure that out.”

The laugh you exhale then is heavy with sadness. Your smile is far away and so is your gaze as you stumble back from him. You turn your head to the edge of the alley where mom’s with strollers and people in fancy suits bustle on the sidewalk and keep your eyes on the strangers that whiz by you’ll probably never see again.

“This is… This is pointless,” you murmur. His lean form is blurry through the burning tears you blink away. “Every time I see you, it’s just more bullshit so let’s just— let’s just leave each other alone, okay?”

Billy takes a puff from his cigarette. When he sighs, white smoke billows from his plump, pink lips. “That’s a shame… I was just thinking that you were the most interesting you’d ever been.”

The ebbing tide that had just left you rushes back in a bubbling scarlet wave. His words don’t make you sad anymore, they just make you angry all over again because you know you don’t deserve them. And you’re not entirely sure why he’s chosen you to antagonize out of all the other girls who’d made the mistake of falling for him, but you’re too far past the point of not caring to ask.

“Bother me again and I tell Chief Hopper,” you threaten even though you don’t feel very threatening just now. “I know you’re not scared of me, but you’d be stupid to be scared of him.”

“Why’s that?” he wonders before sticking the half-gone stick between his lips again.

“Because he runs Hawkins. And he fucking hates you—” for what you did to me, you almost say. You swallow the words down like bile before they have the chance to spew out. “And… And be nice to Vicki. Okay? She’s too good for you. Don’t do to her what you did to me.”

Your plea for another is the last thing you say to Billy before you turn away from him. You wouldn’t be upset if it was the last thing you ever said to him. You’re grateful for the resounding silence that follows. It’s nothing but the sound of your receding footsteps and the soles of his shoes scrapping the concrete as he snuffs out his cigarette.

There is no snarky remark or insincere plea — just two people who used to love each other that have no idea to exist together anymore.

When you step outside the brick confines of the alleyway, you feel as though a fraying string that had always connected the both of you had been finally cut.

It allows you to take a deep breath in for the first time in months. A lungful of fresh air that cleanses you, body and mind.

And when you catch Steve and Robin idling at the corner and doing a terrible job of pretending like they hadn’t just been eavesdropping, you don’t get upset or angry with them — you don’t feel much of anything, really.

You just hand the boy his lighter and unused cigarette and let them comfort you on the drive back to your apartment.

A misery sandwich. That’s what Robin calls the three of you and the heaping pile you lay in.

Your queen-sized bed is in no way meant to accomodate three moderately sized adults, but you make it work anyway, like you always do.

Steve lays on his back, legs crossed and hands tucked under his head. Robin is on her stomach on the other end of the mattress, arms wrapped around the pillow she smushes the side of her face into. You lay between the both of them — on the both of them. Sprawled out sideways, you’ve got your head on propped up on Steve’s ribcage and your legs thrown over Robin’s thighs.

The awkward position is the most comfortable you’ve ever been.

“I can’t believe that asshole had the nerve to show up to the diner on our day,” the boy rants. “And then sit in our booth, I mean— who does he think he is?”

Robin’s response is mostly muffled by the pillow. “I thought he left, like, forever ago.”

“Maybe he just couldn’t stay away. It’s Hawkins, shit attracts shit, right?” Steve answers with a shrug that jostles your head slightly. It doesn’t little to knock you from your stupor, though, where you’ve been stuck for the better part of the day. You pick at the skin around your nails with little regard for how red and raging it's gone.

He notices this and thumps you on your temple — hard enough for you to feel it, gentle enough that it doesn’t hurt you.

You turn your chin to your shoulder to look over at him. He tilts his own head to stare down at you, honey-tinted gaze somehow stern and soft at the same time. “If he bothers you again, I’ll kill him.”

You’re instantly warmed by his protective disposition. You know that he cares about you, even though you like to joke that he doesn’t. Steve hurt you once, made a promise to himself to make it up to you, and then just never left you alone.

You’re grateful for it.

You’re not sure who’d be the butt of every joke if he wasn’t around.

“Good to know,” you answer, nodding against his side and trying to hide the smile he gives you. You fail. “You think if he breaks your nose again, it’ll pop back into place?”

His face falls. “You’re real sweet, you know that?”

You open your mouth to respond, something along the lines of “I’m always sweet. You of all people should know that, Stevie,” before a knock sounds at the front door. It comes in the several rhythmic raps that Eddie is known to give when he’s got a tune stuck in his head.

Apparently now, it’s the chorus to “Why Can’t This Be Love?” The Van Halen song he said he couldn’t stand before you.

Robin huffs at the sound of the muffled taps. She frowns like a child. “Who the hell…?”

“It’s just Eddie,” you affirm through a half-hearted grunt as you rise from your comfy position.

That brightens the two of them up almost immediately. Her and Steve share a look you can’t place as they grin at one another. Then they turn back to you with identical mischievous twinkles in their eyes. “Your boyfriend is here,” the former of the two singsongs.

You roll your eyes, but make no move to correct her.

When you stand from the bed and make the short journey towards the door, you hear the patter of their feet following close behind you.

“Gonna go all the way tonight?” Steve teases and jabs you on the shoulder. “Do you want us to leave?”

“No, nothing is happening. And yes, I think you should leave,” you monotone playfully.

Robin rushes past you suddenly and grabs the brass door handle before you’re able. She swings it open without thinking twice about it. Her sudden appearance, coupled with the fact that it isn’t you, startles the man on the other side of the door.

Eddie’s umber eyes go wide, brows raising and disappearing beneath his fluffy bangs, as his head jerks back.

“Eddie Munson,” the girl full-names the stranger she’s never spoken a word to before now. She leans against the doorway and effectively blocks the boy’s view of you. Steve, who squeezes himself in beside her, doesn’t make it any easier. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“You too, Buckley…” he wavers, trying to peer past them for any sight of you.

“Perfect timing, Eds,” you call out from behind them. “They were just about to leave.”

He’s relieved at the sound of your voice — even more so at your appearance when the two in front of you step off to the side to toe on their sneakers.

You don’t look much different than when he saw you last. You’ve put on some makeup that’s started to smudge after the long day and changed your baggy sweatshirt for a more fitted tank top and boxers, but other than that you’re still the same. Still familiar and comforting in your way, a home away from home.

His smile is a tired one and it wobbles at the edges. “Oh, shit, am I— am I interrupting something?”

“No,” you’re quick to reassure him. “You’re saving me, actually.”

“Oh, give me a break,” Steve scoffs. “You love us.”

The boy pulls you into a hug before he leaves, and it’s not the rarest thing in the world, but embraces like this do tend to be few and far between. He whispers “use protection” in your ear and then a sharp “ow!” when you jab him in the ribs.

He and Robin smile kindly at Eddie when they walk by him and out the door, but waste barely a second before turning back around and grinning wildly at you. Steve flashes you a thumbs up while she mouths a cartoonish ��good luck’ — like it’s the first time you and Eddie had ever been alone together. Like they were just on your ass about having been with him this whole time.

You usher Eddie and shut the door behind them. A quiet sort of peace settles on the apartment like a weighted blanket. The boy revels in every bit of its warmth.

Exhaustion drips from him like syrup. He’s sticky with it. His eyes have lost their usual twinkle, weighed down now with the burden of his fatigue. His face has lost most of its color, leaving a pale sheath of monotoned skin, and his hair is wilder than normal, with an unintentional sort of ruggedness to his curls.

It’s what being without you has done to him.

“You okay?” you ask him softly. It almost makes him want to cry.

“Yeah,” he answers anyway and idles in the spot where your kitchen meets your living room. “Just had a pretty shitty day. Wanted to spend time with you.”

“Me too… About the wanting to spend time with you part— and the shitty day part, too, I guess.”

Eddie smiles at your rambling, but purses it to the side to conceal it from you. “And since it is just about our…” he trails off and bends his elbow to check the watch on his wrist. “…Twelve hour anniversary, I picked us up some takeout.”

He sets the plastic bag on the counter. The red logo of Oriental Jade on the side of it makes your stomach roll with a distant hunger. You hadn’t realized how starved you were feeling after you abandoned your early dinner at Benny’s. It makes you more grateful for Eddie, who always seems to be on the same wavelength as you without even trying.

“Keep this up and we’ll be married before we hit hour twenty-four,” you joke as you rifle through the cartons — chow mein, sweet and sour chicken, dumplings, the works.

Eddie settles in next to you, propping his elbows on the countertop. “Well, I’m pretty sure the courthouse opens at nine, so… What were you thinking for the honeymoon? Hawaii? Bora Bora?”

“How about a cabin in the woods where no one can find us?”

“Hmm… Spooky. Sexy. I’m into it.”

You settle in the living room and eat on the couch while She Ra re-runs play on the television. You try to teach Eddie how to use chopsticks, though he can only work them with his non-dominant hand and all the wrong finger placements. You think it’s cute to watch him fumble with them, and you giggle about it until you’re scolding him for trying to feed Bowie some noodles. He laughs as you swat at him.

When all the containers are fully scrapped clean and tossed in the recycling bin, you migrate to the bedroom — which is perhaps too raunchy a phrase to use when the two of you only bury yourselves under the covers to talk shit.

Eddie drags out the chunky box fan you use when the air conditioner goes out in the summer — because it always goes out in the summer — and props it on the chest at the foot of your bed so the covers will billow around the both of you. “And it’s perfect because we can stay in the fort forever and not get hot,” he tells you, all giddy about it like he's a kid again.

“What if I get cold?” you retort.

Without missing a beat, he answers, “Well, lucky enough for you, I know several ways I can warm you up, sweetheart.”

He ditches his leather jacket and strips down to his boxers and settles in beside you underneath the blankets. The two of you lay shoulder to shoulder while you trace absentminded patterns on the palm of his hand and tell him about your day.

You make sure to leave out all the re-traumatizing-Billy-Hargrove bits, though. You focus mainly on the tense drive with Hopper and the small fight you’d had with Steve on the drive to the diner later that afternoon about the lyrics to Love My Way (both of you had been wrong).

Eddie tries his hardest to focus on your story and your fleeting touches, but he’s too far in his own head. You tell him all these things but he can’t stop thinking about himself — about whether or not you might’ve brought him up somewhere in between.

He wouldn’t have blamed you, if you had. Steve and Robin are your closest friends and, for whatever reason, so is Chief Hopper, you’re bound to bring him up eventually. He was just hoping it would’ve been in a better capacity. Maybe about how kind he was or what a god he was in bed — not how he could only be one of those things because he’d never been anything in bed.

“It doesn’t make things weird between us, does it?” he wonders out of the blue.

You halt mid-sentence and turn to him with furrowed brows. “What?”

Eddie realizes then, that the first half of the conversation with you had only happened in his head. He prays that it’s too dark beneath the covers for you to see how red his cheeks get. “Just… What we talked about this morning. About me… you know…” He finds it hard to say the words. Or any of them at all.

“Why would it make things weird?”

“I don’t know. Because I wasn’t… totally honest with you, I guess? I feel a little bad about it, you know?”

“It’s okay,” you assure and turn on your side to be closer to him. Eddie stays on his back, more than happy to let you cuddle further into him. “I guess I do wish you’d said something before, though.”

His chest tightens. “I’m sorry. I just… I didn’t know how to—”

“I’m not saying it to make you feel bad!” you interject quickly when you catch the spiral of regret he was about to twist himself into. You curl tighter into his side, tossing a leg over his thigh and wrapping your hand around his bicep in an effort to melt with him. When he turns to face you, your noses nearly brush.

“That’s not how I meant it. I just meant that, if I’d known before, I wouldn’t have… I would’ve taken things slower. I wouldn’t have been so, you know, so all over you.”

He hates how apologetic you sound. Like there was ever an ounce of him that would want to take back what happened that night at his trailer or a part of him that might hate how much you love on him.

“I liked it. I do like it.”

“Maybe we can just start over,” you offer. “Pretend like none of that ever happened.”

Eddie knows there’s no way in hell he’ll be able to forget about a single damn thing — not his cum stained jeans and how you looked so pretty washing them for him, not the feel of your tits in his mouth or you wrapped around his fingers, not how you made him blow his load all over his fist just by talking to him.

He goes along with it anyway, though, just for you.

“Okay...” he nods slowly, then squints over at you. “You’re still my girlfriend, though, right?”

“Of course I am,” you giggle.

He grins proudly to himself. “Well then… Hope it’s not too early to have our first kiss then?”

It makes you roll your eyes because it’s such an Eddie Munson way of asking to kiss you. You told him earlier the day that he never had to ask you — in fact, you’d prefer it if he’d just kiss you out of the blue and take your breath away without you ever knowing it was coming. But there was something foreign and sweet in his little reassurances.

“Kiss me silly, Eddie Spaghetti,” you beam. He twists on his side to press tiny pecks to your smile.

It’s rather strange, you find, to kiss someone this way without the intention of it ever becoming something more. You kiss him just to kiss him — just to map the outline of his cupid’s bow and memorize the pattern of his tongue. Just to feel him, as much of him as your mouth will allow you to.

With one arm curled under his head and the other cradling your jaw, when his watch alarms — high-pitched beepbeepbeeps in quick succession — it’s sudden and close to your ear.

Your lips click in protest when they part. His are pink and swollen and glossy with your spit. He smiles with them. “Happy twelve hour anniversary, sweetheart.”

“How long are you gonna make that stupid joke?” you laugh like your heart isn’t swelling so much you’re scared it might burst entirely.

“Uh, I was thinking… forever. Yeah. That sounds about right,” he concludes after a moment of feigned thought. He turns his watch off again and you swear you see him set for another twelve hours from now.

“Forever?” you echo.

“Uh-huh. Forever—” he presses his lips to yours once. “—And ever—” Twice. “—And ever.”

Eddie kisses you until you’re flat on your back and surrendering to each of his tiny little pecks. You twist your hands in his hair and let him love on you a little while more. You giggle when his mouth trails from your lips to your chin to your jaw to your neck. Please don’t get bored of me, you beg silently within your laughter.

I don’t think I could even if I wanted to, he answers with each kiss his sprinkles to your starved skin. How could I, when you’re the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me?

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #eddie munson fic #virgin!eddie munson x reader #virgin!eddie munson

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umadosedepascal · 3 months

Text

W I N N E R | Pedro Pascal X f!reader | PART VIII

Written by Santa Trindade

Banner by @missyorkswhore

Made in Brazil

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x f!reader

Summary: You couldn’t attend SAG awards but Pedro meets you late in the night to celebrate.

wc: 2.9k

rating/warnings: [a little drunk] [one spit][take a shower together][ride on thigh][Pedro begging in Spanish][little fluffy][Smut][unprotected PIV][oral sex m/f]

a/n: This was kind of a request. Enjoy whoever asked us for it! And sorry if there’s any mistakes on our English.Pedro was freaking HOT that night MY GOSH!Consider commenting and reblogging if you like it!

Its been a busy beginning of the year, Pedro has a lot of work going on and you as well.

You can barely see each other but when there's an opportunity to meet you just jump on it by him invinting you or just to be there at the same event.

When he won the People's Choice Award you just had to call him congratulating for the winning, and while you were talking he told you he was going to fly back to LA for SAG awards and really wanted to see you before come back to Canada.

That news made your day, and you had a good feeling that he was going for good.

Unfortunatelly you couldnt attend the award not even the after party for other reasons but you kept texting insanely each other during the event.

Pedro P: Hey honey, I'm already here. drinking some Casamigos with awesome people, wish you were here...

You: It's ok babe, have fun tonite! I bet you going to win and we can celebrate later..

Pedro P: Not sure, my dear. Kieran is taking them all 🥲 can't wait to see you later tonite.

You are laying on your couch with pajamas watching the award and his category comes up with an surprisingly announcement. Pedro wins, you start screaming on your apartment like your team scored on final championship.

DAMN, you are so proud of him and turn up the volume just to hear his speech loud and clear. Well, wasn't one of the best ones but you swirl your glass of wine bitting your bottom lip while he is saying he is a bit drunk and tear up with him as he mention how important this is for himself.

You realize is time to get ready to meet him, you let the TV on while going to take a shower and hear he's back live with Tan on backstage interview. It looked like more shenanigans than possible. The moment you hear him saying he would make out with Kieran and this is his revenge you automatically raise your phone for a sassiest nude pic and send him..

You: So, you want to make out with me or him? 🤣

You know he is buzzed and feeling the moment and know his not going to reply so soon but still piss and laughing at the same time.

After a couple hours you get a message

Pedro P: Mine or yours?

You: Inside me

Pedro P: This is what I wanted to. I will be there in 20.

You: Come to me Don Juan

Pedro P: haha 🤣

It's 1:30 am and you debating with your sleep just to keep yourself awake and see that Chilean Don Juan appear in front of your door. To keep it up you still drinking and looking at the app because he always share his location with you. Not to bother, you just wait with patience and see its moving faster. Means that he is coming towards your place. Your heart starts to accelerate and definitely you cannot wait to see him holding that heavy award on his hands..

You live in a quiet neighbour in West Hollywood, nothing happens like the crazyness on the other side. You sit in front of your door wearing a comfy robe when his car approaches the street.

"MAMA I WON!" He screams while getting off the car

You are like "SSSSH Pedro! It's 2 in the morning..😂"

Pedro holds you leading you back to your house and closing the door behind him.

"I'm so proud of you, even you saying those things on live TV, you were so funny, light and emotional. Can you believe I cried when you got on that stage saying anything but everything?"

"Yeah I, I, I was drunk babe..haha"

He leaves his award carefully by the door on the floor and when he comes back up to you his hands are already on your thighs sliding up giving you shivers and taking off your robe for good. Pedro holds the back of your neck while licking on it tracing a pat to your right ear saying "I win twice tonite huh..”

He grabs your hand and make you feel his hardon throught his pants, you let out a soft moan and rub your hands harshly on him, your mouths meet each other in a sloppy wet kiss. You can feel the taste of tequila and his tongue is tender and he is gentle on you.

You keep on your toes and whisper in his ear "are you sure this is all for me? Isn't it for Kieran or the other thousand people you wee flirting P?"

Pedro looks at you, those brown eyes getting darker, he raises an eyebrow and moves away from you, your heart beating faster when you see that man going to the middle of your living room.

Pedro stops and looks at you,

"Do you really think my cock is hard like that because of anyone other than you and this tight pussy?"

Each word Pedro was saying, he was opening a button on his shirt, so slowly that you felt your legs soften with every inch of skin that was emerging in front of you.

"Eyes on my dear, tell me, do you know how hard I got when I saw that pic you’ve sent me? How did I have to disguise it by holding my award?"

The last button is undone and Pedro takes his clothes off quickly now just on his undies. He sits in the sofa, legs open, he pops out a cigarette, you face him petrified, the way Pedro takes your living room, how this room seems ten times smaller and warmer with him there.

Pedro lights up the cigarette and drags it slowly, his head falling on the back of the sofa.

"Come here mama" he pats his left thigh twice. The view of him with the cigarette hanging on his lips, shirtless, the slightly reddish skin, the curls on his forehead, and those eyes that look like a burning brown sea drives you crazy.

You sigh, approach and ride on his left thigh.

You take the cigarette out of his mouth, take a drag and land on the ashtray.

While making sudden movements on his thigh you hold his jaw squeezing his cheeks and say "so, it means we have a winner here..." putting two fingers in his mouth, he sucks them and say softly.. "go down, I want to see how wet you are for me" you obey with a peck on his lips.

Sliding down your left hand through his hot chest giving a quick pass through the bulge over his boxers. the feeling is very hot and pleasurable..moving the fabric away from your panties you dip one finger only and move back into his mouth.

He opens his mouth slowly giving permission for you to pass on his lips and that was enough for him to hold the edges of your panties and strip down making you get up quickly and get rid of it.

Sitting back again on his thigh and making more abrupt movements and wetting him completely, a feeling of drowning, a smell of sex and expensive perfume with the taste of tequila coming from that mouth.

Pedro guides your hand to his cock and asks with some difficulty to caress him the way he likes it.

You drag your nails through the contour of his cock, the wet fabric of pre cum shows how Pedro is looking forward to you. You stroke his thighs, going up and down slowly, feeling how his skin chills, how his stomach contracts when your fingers get close to his cock.

You take back the cigarette and drag looking at him, your head falling to the side, watching how he seems lost and anxious.

“You look so beautiful kneeling to me," Pedro says taking the cigarette off your fingers.

Biting your lip you hold the sides of his undies, Pedro raises his hips helping you, the fabric going down his legs, you throw it to the floor.

Pedro holds his throbbing cock with his right hand, uncut, thick and veiny with a swolen red head looking like a huge strawberry, he makes movements up and down.

"Déjame sentir esa boca mama. Please" he says with half close eyes and husky voice.

You approach and hold his cock over his hand, squeezing and feeling how he pulsates. You lick the wet tip of pre cum, looking into his eyes you slowly suck only the tip, Pedro takes his hand off the cock and holds the armchair stroking it, cursing softly while you lick and teases him with your tongue.

"You're so hot, I've been wishing to suck you all night" before Pedro can answer you put his cock in your mouth, feeling the tip hit your throat, you feel him pulsating on your tongue, the bittersweet taste of the pre cum invading your throat. Pedro runs his hand in your hair, moving in circles encouraging you to swallow more, you choke but don't take him out of your mouth.

"Shit! I love it when you do that. Don't stop!"

You look into his eyes, Pedro wiping the tear that accumulates in the corner of your eyes. You take him out of your mouth just to jack him off while sucking his balls, Pedro throws his head back and moans loudly, no caring if anyone will hear him.

"Gosh! You're going to kill me"

You go up with your tongue licking his length, until you reach the tip you swallow it again feeling Pedro grabbing your hair tightly, guiding how he wants to fuck your mouth.

"Por favor…”

You feel that Pedro is about to cum in your mouth, with a pop you let it go and ask looking up at him "will there be a second round, babe?"

With his eyes closed and his mouth half open he nods a yes and you grab him again passing his tongue with more intensity on the frenum. He lets out a dense moan slightly squeezing the sides of your temple and arches his hip releasing jets of hot cum in your mouth. Pedro's moans get louder as you swallow his hot juice by sliding your nails on his thighs making him having goosebumps.

You get up and sit again on him facing front, caressing his graysh beard and kissing his neck and corner of mouth. He mouths a lazy smile biting his lower lip and says "I want more, I don't want it to end like this today without me satisfying you..."

Pedro looks at you from the corner of his eye, pointing to your bedroom.

“..taste you Ma’am..."

Lifting you up on his lap, you interlace your legs on his hip and he goes towards your bed throwing you into it and opening your legs with his knees.

He starts kissing your knees looking up at you, going down to your thighs alternating between each one licking and giving light nibbles, sometimes some bites that will leave you marks making you complain with pleasure "stop, Pedro"

"Stop?"

"No, no, keep going.." giggling.

This time Pedro went straight to the pot licking the sides of your folders, holding your hips pulling you to him so you can reach his curly hair, already messy and sweaty.

He fucks you with his tongue, grunting while smearing himself from you, you feel your pussy pinching with his beard constantly scrubbing against your skin. he alternates between licking, and sucking on your clit leaving on the edge.

"Cum to me babe, you're so delicious... I missed you"

You feel your pussy contract, squeezing, your stomach on fire, a hot numbness taking over your body. Pedro moans against your pussy while sucking on it, begging you to cum for him.

"Cum in my mouth cum in my whole face, babe"

Pedro spits onto your pussy, a long line of saliva while his eyes do not detach from yours. He fucks you with his tongue, his pretty aquiline nose poking your sensitive clit.

"Pedro! Sn't it!" You shout his name, cumming on his tongue, his hands squeezing you, snakeing your body, leaving scratches.

"Every day more delicious" Pedro crawls on top of you, finding your lips he kisses you, you feel his hard cock again against your thigh.

Pedro moves away kneeling on the edge of the bed, you don't even have time to assimilate before you feel him pull you by the ankles, causing your legs to curl around his waist.

Pedro holds his cock hard cock with his right hand and rubs the tip against your swollen clit, you moan when he slide the tip in your pussy.

"So fucking tight..ah”

He takes off and stimulate you again, and so he does one, two, three times teasing you.

"Please papi, fuck me…"

Pedro growls looking at you, he holds his cock by the base and push into you. You two moaning together, that little pain mixed with pleasure taking over your body, Pedro seems like a sex God, a fallen angel looking at your pussy while

fucking you deep, his lips half-open, the side vein of his neck pulsating, drops of sweat accumulating on his forehead...

Pedro grabs your waist, sitting on the bed and rolling you on top of him. He holds your ass making you rub on it, the feeling of his cock so deep in your pussy.

You lean on him, sinking your mouth into his sweaty neck while he already without forces slaps you in the cheeks holding firmly making you move up and down. with a low grun he lifts you slightly and fucks you even harder. the sound of skin to skin and his moans mix while he pumps you in order to reach his climax but you give in first leaving his cock wetter and slippery, making it escape more than once from inside you but he quickly guides his hard cock again inside until he grabs you tight on your waist and cums hot inside you saying cursed things. You quickly shut him up kissing him roughly.

The kiss turns sloppy, and decreases as your lungs fight for air.

Pedro kisses your jaw, his tongue passing through your neck, leaving a bite on your right shoulder. He lies on the bed, still with his dick inside you, he smiles as if he were high. You watch him, his eyes closed, the satisfied smile on his lips, the curls of his hair now completely wet with sweat.

You bend over and kiss his collarbone, raising your tongue to his neck, feeling the salty of his skin. Unique.

"Are you trying a third round?" He says opening only one eye and looking at you. You laugh coming out of him, immediately missing the feeling of his cock inside you.

"Come, take a shower with me"

The bath is relaxing, the warm water falling on you, Pedro kisses you while you pass the soap through his body, it is sensual and calm.

You tell him to turn around, passing the soap behind his back, leaving a kiss on the back of his newly operated shoulder, he laughs and turns to you, kissing your lips calmly, taking advantage of every inch of your mouth. It's so relaxing that you feel your muscles give way every time he hugs you next to his body.

While you talk and get dry, Pedro tells you about how he doesn't remember anything of the speech, that he was so nervous and happy that he just said what came to his mind, and blames himself for not having thanked more people.

"You made a beautiful speech, Pedro, I’m serious"

He smiles and holds your hand.

"Can I ask for something? Can you wear my shirt? From the minute Julie gave it to me, I imagined how beautiful you would look wearing it. Hah”

You smile at his request, nodding your head giving a quick kiss on his lips, you send him to bed and run to the living room. You just see chaos, clothes thrown on the floor, ashtray, glass of drink and TV on. You find the shirt on the couch, you put it on not wearing anything underneath, leaving the same amount of buttons open that he left during that night.

The moment you head to the room, he brought the trophy to the bedside table and catches your attention, you take it, looking at his name engraved, smiling, happy for him.

"Papi I’m a winner!" You mimic him when he told you in the early evening, raising the heavy trophy.

You walk slowly to the side of the bed, leaving the trophy on the bedside table. Pedro climbs his right hand down the back of your thigh, gently squeezing your ass, looking at you while his left hand plays with one of the buttons on the shirt.

"Jesus, you look so sexy! Much better than I imagined. Come here" Pedro whispers looking at you.

You know exactly what that look means. The night will really have no end.

———————————

Thanks for being here and read our delusional fics, likes are appreciate, comments even more. If you want to ask anything, blast it!

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal x f!reader #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal imagine #pedrohub #joel miller #dieter bravo #joel miller x reader #dbf!joel

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burntb4bydoll · 1 year

Note

I’m on my hands and knees for him. His hair 🥲 help

May we get daddy dom!bill pls

GOD i love love love his blonde hair omfg😩 I absolutely love writing for dom Bill AND daddy kinks🤭

ALSO IM SORRY I HAVENT BEEN POSTING MUCH GUYS IVE BEEN SUPER BUSY RECENTLY AND IM TRYING TO ONLY WRITE WHEN I KNOW I HAVE ENOUGH TIME

Bill Kaulitz x fem!reader

Warnings: daddy kink, thigh riding, dumbification

You were laying on your shared bed facing each other just watching a movie while you enjoyed the other’s presence. His hand rested on your hip while your head was buried under his chin, your legs tangled with each other. After a while his thigh that was pressed between your legs started to shuffle a little, rubbing against the thin fabric of your underwear. You took a sharp inhale in and tried to regain some composure. He kept rubbing his thigh against you, but even harder this time, and you couldn’t help but gasp a little.

“Whats wrong, baby?” He sounded sincere and confused, but Bill knew exactly what he was doing. Of course, he obviously wasn’t going to let you know that.

“Nothing, I’m ok.” You smiled up at him, attempting to calm down a little. A grin started to creep up on to his face at your lie. He was trying to see how far he could push you before you finally gave in.

“Well you tell me if you need something, ok?” You nodded and tucked your head back into the crook of his neck. As the movie continued, he started to tease you even more. He was kneading his hands against your butt, pulling your hips to grind against his leg causing his shorts to slide up his leg. Your back arched into his chest and quiet moans started to force their way out of your throat.

“Um, Bill..?” You asked quietly, tugging on his shirt to get his attention away from the movie. Although he was only pretending to watch the movie, he slowly tore his eyes away from the screen and looked towards you.

“Hm? Whats wrong sweetheart?” His question felt mocking and you suddenly realized that he was doing it on purpose.

“Bill, need you so bad. Please?” His eyes switched from looking gentle to having a darker, more lust filled look. He leaned forward and gently grabbed your chin with his pointer finger and thumb,

“Is that what you’re supposed to call me? You know better than that.” He coos, the mocking tone still laced his normally sweet voice. You shook your head and ran your hands down his chest.

“…No, sorry daddy.” Bill pulls your face forward by the hand on your chin and tugs you into a harsh kiss. Your body starts moving on its own, grinding against his thigh to try to get some friction. He laughs a little at your desperation and pulls away to talk to you,

“You are just so adorable, baby. Look at you, so desperate that you’re fucking yourself on my leg. Such a needy little thing.” You felt a little embarrassed that he could get you so worked up so easily, but those thoughts were quickly dismissed by the aching in your cunt. The movie was quickly forgotten as his hands guided your body to ride his leg, your wetness soaking through your panties and onto his bare thigh.

“Daddy! Please just fuck me! I don’t wanna wait anymore.” You pouted, hands clutching onto his loose shirt. Smirking at your pleas, he moves you body faster and shoves his leg up to press hard against your crotch.

“Aww, my poor baby. You’re so needy, you’re making it hard to say no to you. But I wanna play with you more. Daddy’s gonna fuck you after you cum on my thigh, ok?” You whine, but agree with his deal. His lips attached themselves to your neck, sucking lightly on the sensitive skin. Your hands travel up his body to hold on to his shoulders, using them as leverage to rub against him at your own pace. “There you go,” Bills thumbs stroke your hips comfortingly, “make yourself cum. Such a good girl for daddy.”

The combination of his voice and the look on his beautiful face was enough to send you into an intense orgasm, shaking and whining as you rode him slowly to ride out your intoxicating high.

And he definitely keeps his promise when he said he would fuck you after you made yourself cum.

#tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel #tokio hotel fanfic #tokio hotel smut #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz smut #bill kaulitz fanfic

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lnfours · 4 months

Note

can you do "i'm your's but you're not mine" (say don't go) for lando? maybe it's a slow progression of every moment that the reader has noticed that lando has slowly started falling out of love with her to the ultimate point where she just leaves him cause she can't handle it anymore. meanwhile lando makes the realization that this is actually it and she's never coming back? i've been in an angsty mood lately and i love your writing!

okay sooo you want me to cry! got it!! 🥲

cleaning out my inbox

everything with lando lately was all at once or nothing at all. a confusing whirlwind of emotions that left you feeling like the inevitable was coming, no matter how often you tried to push it away.

things were different now. you had met each other at nineteen, and here you are roughly 5 years later. people change with time, with life. the promises he had made once before now felt empty. the boy you once were certain would do anything for you, now you weren’t sure if he even felt the same way anymore.

he hadn’t really realized that his actions had left you battered and bruised, had left you feeling like a complete fool for even trying to keep things from falling apart.

he hadn’t really realized until he got home, bags left by the door. he called out to you, silence meeting him making his eyebrows pull together. he followed the hallway down to your shared bedroom, your lack of presence slowly worrying him as he checked inside the connected bathroom. your toothbrush and the things of yours that sat on your side of the vanity, gone. his heart pounded against his chest, looking at the freshly made bed and the nightstand next to your side which was lacking the book you were currently reading. lacking your favorite strawberry flavored lip balm and a phone charger.

he wandered into the closet on instinct, turning the light on and his heart dropped at the sight of only his clothes inside. your side had been wiped clean, empty hangers hanging from the rod.

he went back to the bedroom, sitting down on the bed and scrolling through his contacts until he found your name. he didn’t care that it was late, pressing his phone to his ear as the ringing echoed. tears slipped from his eyes and onto the duvet as the beginning of your voicemail played. thoughts of regret rippling through his mind as your voice echoed on the other end.

‘hey, it’s y/n! sorry i couldn’t take your call…’

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gojosnympho · 2 years

Text

cleaning day - k.nj

pairing: kim namjoon x black!fem!reader

genre: smut, lil bit of fluff, pwp, non-idol!au

word count: 2.5k

content warnings: established relationship, pet names, unprotected sex (don’t), lil bit of a breeding kink 🫣, dirty talk, oral (fem receiving), praise, ass slapping, teasing, sex with joon over a counter (bc that needs a warning in itself), and multiple orgasms. (lemme know if i missed anything <3)

author’s note: this is my first time posting on here so let me know if y’all fucking with it and i’ll post more! <3 (also idk how to do the read more thing yet so i apologize for clogging up your dash🥲) i figured it out!!!

you designated saturday mornings for cleaning up the apartment you and namjoon shared. he helped usually, other times he “needed to run an errand”, or “yoongi needed his help with something” when he didn’t want to help you clean. most of the time you didn’t really mind it because it wasn’t a frequent occurrence and because he took such good care of you so cleaning the shared space by yourself from time to time wasn’t that much of a huge deal. today was one of his “errand” days. he’d left almost as soon as you started playing old r&b songs over the jbl speaker you used when cleaning. he knew what that playlist meant and he wanted no parts today.

right now you were in the kitchen washing the dishes and jamming out to an old r&b song your mother used to play throughout the house on cleaning days. you didn’t even realize that your boyfriend was watching you from the doorway of the kitchen. you hummed along to the song as you made sure the plate you were washing was clean to your liking, then you moved on to the next one. he was still watching you, taking in your appearance. you were in your regular cleaning day attire: one of his big ass shirts that damn near swallowed you whole, a pair of shorts, your scarf or bonnet, and slippers. he always thought you looked so pretty like that.

he walked up behind you and snaked his strong arms around your waist, “hi, sweetheart.” he greeted you with a kiss to your cheek. you melted into him almost; the smell of his cologne clouding your senses. “hi, joonie. back so soon?” you teased him with a giggle. usually he’d be gone until he knew you’d finished cleaning. you wondered what was so different today.

“i just missed you too much to stay gone, princess.” his sweet words made you giggle again. you continued your task of washing the dishes while he stayed wrapped around you. once you’d finished you were taking off the yellow dishwashing gloves and about to pull away from namjoon but he held you against him.

“what are you up to?” you asked him, craning your neck to look back at him. he had a smirk splayed on his face, dimpling his cheeks. mischief was swimming in his brown eyes. when you realized you shook your head no at him. you knew what he was up to now. horny bastard. “if you can’t help me clean up then you can’t have no pussy.” you turned in his arms so that you were facing him now, looking up at the tall man. he frowned at you, his dimples disappearing with his action.

“i promise i’ll help after.” he said and his stupidly handsome face and the pout on his face almost had you dropping your panties right there but you stopped yourself. “i literally look so unattractive right now.” you said and he sucked his teeth. oh how he hated when you talked down on yourself. even if you were just joking. “you can never look unattractive. now c’mon, baby, let me bend you over this counter,” he taps the cold marble counter with his hand for emphasis, “and fuck you until you’re creaming all over my dick.”

his words made you moan softly. you nodded at him and that’s when he pressed his lips to yours. the kiss was sweet at first his hand went to caress your cheek while his tongue pushed inside your mouth. it quickly turned needy and desperate though. you couldn’t believe he’d gotten you this riled up in such a short amount of time. he pulled you in deeper, placing his large hand on the back of your neck for leverage. soon his lips were on your neck to give it the same treatment. you moaned at the feeling of him biting your neck and then licking over the spot to soothe the ache.

while his lips were busy on your neck, his hands were running up and down your backside, and then his hands were under your—his shirt to play with your boobs. he squeezed the mounds of flesh in his hands and you both moaned at the feeling. your nipples pebbled under his touch. even after the three years you’d been together he still had the same effect on you and your body.

“love your titties baby. so perfect.” he praised squeezing them again drawing yet another moan from your already parted lips. he began rolling the hard nipples between his fingers and you moaned again but this time it was a little louder. he tugged on them softly and watched as you twitched and keened under his touch. if his dick wasn’t hard before it definitely was now. you looked so fucking pretty he thought.

“stop teasing me, joon.” you whined. you enjoyed foreplay just as much as the next girl but you needed him inside of you now. he usually preferred to at least make you cum once before actually fucking you because of how…big he was but right now you didn’t think you needed to be prepped. just the thought of him wanting you so badly he was willing to take you over the counter was enough to make you gush.

joon, to your dismay, ignored your comment and continued the ministrations on your body and leaving hickeys all over your neck. his hands were caressing your sides and your belly now. his hands were warm against you; in a way it was comforting. he pressed his lips to yours once more to swallow all the moans you made. “gonna eat your pussy. would you like that, princess?” he asked against your lips. you mumbled a soft “yes” in response. fuck what you were saying earlier about foreplay. if he was willing to give you head, who were you to deny him.

he turned you back around so that you were leaning over the counter. your clothed breasts laid flat against the hard surface and the cold marble made your nipples even harder than they already were. behind you, namjoon was pulling your shirt up to get a view of your ass. your sleep shorts hug the lower half of your body, the shape of your ass very prominent in them. you jolted forward when you felt him leave a smack on the right cheek. it wasn’t enough to actually leave any sting but it was enough to make your ass jiggle upon impact.

you felt him hook his fingers in your shorts and underwear and pull them down your legs. he helped you step out of them and then threw the clothing to the side. now here you were in your freshly cleaned kitchen half naked, dripping, and waiting for your boyfriend to touch you where you were aching for him the most. you didn’t even care that you would have to clean the counters and floor again as long as he was gonna fuck you. you felt his fingers trail up your thigh and stop right before he got to your pussy.

“kim namjoon! enough of the teasing!” you complained with a stomp of your foot. he chuckled at you but ultimately he gave you what you wanted because he wanted it just as bad. his hand finally found the wet slit of your pussy. both of you moaned, you because even that small touch felt so fucking good and him because of how wet you are.

“oh, baby. you’re dripping.” he said, barely above a whisper. he pulled his fingers away from your cunt to show you just how wet you were. his long fingers were glistening with your arousal and the sight had you moaning again. he returned his hand between your legs to rub circles into your clit.

“so good, joonie.” you praised him as your eyes fluttered closed from the pleasure. he was so skilled with his fingers and he knew it too. there’s been plenty of times when namjoon got you off with nothing but his fingers. he was even more skilled with his tongue though and that’s what you really wanted. it’s like he read your mind because you felt his thick tongue lick a stripe up your pussy. “oh fuck!” you cried out gripping on to the edge of the counter. he chuckled from behind you which sent vibrations straight into your dripping hole.

he attached his lips to your clit and began to suck on it while you moaned and pushed your ass back against his face. he grabbed your ass cheeks and spread them to give him a better view of your pussy. he flattened his tongue against your sex to lick up the juices that gushed from you. you were sure you were making a fucking mess but he didn’t give a fuck and honestly? neither did you. he slurped up more of your juices before returning back to sucking your clit.

“taste so good, baby girl.” he said into your pussy. you moaned again at his words. your orgasm was steadily approaching and if he kept going at this rate you were gonna cum. you started to grind down on his tongue to speed up the process. he noticed so he grabbed your hips to help you out. you dragged your pussy across his tongue at a steady pace until you felt that feeling in your stomach start to come undone.

“fuck, joon! ‘m cumming!” you cried out as you continued to move against his tongue. with a gasp and a soundless scream you were creaming all over his tongue, wetting his face even more in the process. you rode his tongue a little longer until the intense feeling went away. you sighed and used the little strength you had to look over your shoulder. joon smiled at you, his face shiny with your juices.

“how did that feel?” he asked you smugly. cocky bastard.

“it felt amazing but you didn’t need me to tell you that. the evidence is all over your face.” you said to him. he licked around his mouth trying to get as much of your juices off as he could.

“you made a mess.” he responded simply. you chuckled before laying your cheek on the counter again. the first orgasm still buzzing on your skin. you heard joon getting undressed behind you; his clothes hitting the ground with soft thuds. “are you ready for me, baby?” he asked you, sweetly.

“yes, joonie. please fuck me.” that’s all it took. the blunt head of his dick was running through your folds to collect your arousal and then he pushed into you slowly. “so fucking tight.” he mutters under his breath before pulling all the way out of you and then slamming back into you with no mercy. your body jolted forward from the sudden intrusion but before you could give him shit for it he was already giving you strokes that had every thought falling from your pretty little head.

his strokes were deep but slow. you could feel your pussy clenching around him with each thrust. all you could do was moan at the feeling. he was basically splitting you open. he started moving faster now, rocking his hips into you until the sound of skin on skin resounded throughout your kitchen. you moaned again trying so hard not to scream but it was nearly impossible because he was reaching so deep inside of you. he placed his hands on your hips to give himself more leverage to speed up even more. he was pounding into you now, pushing you up the counter with each powerful thrust. he pulled you back against him each time, the tip of his fat dick bumping against your sweet spot. your toes were curling and your jaw was slack as choked whimpers and moans came from your throat.

“you feel so fucking good…fuck!” he said and you moaned in response not being able to say anything with the way he was fucking you. he didn’t mind though. he enjoyed nothing more than fucking you stupid until you were nothing but a puddle beneath him. he angled his hips up so that now every time he drove into you he was pushing even harder against that spot inside of you.

“don’t stop, baby. please don’t stop.” you reached behind you to wrap your hands around his wrists to ground yourself because you were losing your fucking mind. he kept snapping into you, his hips smacking against your ass every second and you were seeing stars.

he moved your hands from his wrists and then pulled your body up so that you were standing back to chest. he never stopped fucking into you and this new position had you clenching around his dick so hard it was almost painful. you were dangerously close to toppling over the edge and joon knew it too.

“you gonna cum baby?” he asked and you nodded frantically. “yeah? you gonna cum all over this dick? milk me for everything i have?” you moaned at his words and he chuckled at you. he reached in front of you to rub your clit in fast circles. you cried out his name in a high pitched voice and his next words had you cumming all over him: “cum for me baby so i can breed this fucking pussy.”

you clamped down on him violently and as your orgasm washed over you, you chanted his name. he chuckled into your ear and then placed a kiss on your sweaty cheek. “that’s a good girl. now let me put my baby in you.”

he bent you back over the counter and started fucking into you again at a fast and brutal pace. his grunts turned into soft pants and his hips began to stutter.

“gonna cum.” he announced with a breathy whine before he spilled inside of you, ropes of his thick seed coating your walls. after he finished he pulled out of you and watched as both your and his cum dripped from your hole and onto the floor beneath you. he sucked in a breath at the sight before leaving a light smack on your ass. your brain was still fuzzy from your orgasm so all you could do was hum in satisfaction. joon rubbed your back as you came to your senses whispering praises into your ears about how good you did and how good you were for him.

“you are so nasty.” you softly chastised him when you’d finally gained enough strength to stand on your shaky legs.

“fucked you up didn’t i?” he asked wrapping his arms around you and pulling you against his chest. he rubbed your back some more to calm your trembling body.

“you better keep your promise.” you said to him. he placed a kiss on top of your now scarf-less head. you’d lost it during your…activities. “oh i will, starting with you. let me run you a bath, okay?”

once you were out of the bath and in new clothes, joon in fact did keep his promise. he cleaned up the rest of the apartment while you sat in bed and relaxed. what a sweet boy. he came to join you in bed a little bit later, wrapping his arms around you to cuddle. you relaxed into him, feeling your eyelids getting heavy with sleep.

“you know, maybe cleaning day isn’t that bad.” namjoon said to himself when he heard your light snores fill your bedroom.

#ten writes 🧚🏾‍♀️#knj x reader #kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon smut #bts x black reader #bts smut #knj smut #kpop x black reader #namjoon x black reader

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gunilslaugh · 1 year

Note

hi!! I absolutely love ur work <3 I was wondering if u could do xh having a nightmare of u breaking up with them and u had left the bed in the middle of the night to go to the washroom or drink water (angst + comfort) I've been needing some angst in my life 🥲

I definitely didn't foresee this being a bit over 2 thousand words, but here we are and I hope you enjoy.

All members :D

Summary: When they have a nightmare about you breaking up with them and you’re not there when they wake up.

WC:2.1k

Warning:grammar

photo not mine credits to owner Gunil

Gunil entered your shared apartment, but something was different this time. Usually, when you were home, you’d come and greet him with a warm comforting hug. This time you didn’t come greet him. He tried to rationalize that maybe you were just busy. A pit in his stomach began to form as he walked farther into the apartment and there you were sitting on the couch. You look up and meet his gaze.

“Let’s talk,” you say and the pit in his stomach grows deeper. He walked over to the couch and sat down beside you. “Let’s break up,” at your words his mouth immediately goes dry and his hands begin to clam up.

“W-why?” is all he manages to say.

“We’re both too busy Gunil. We’re more like two people living in the same apartment than a couple,”

“I love you though,” he says.

“I love you too, but that’s not enough for a relationship you know that. I’m sorry. I already packed my things. I'm gonna stay with a friend. Goodbye,”

Gunil jostles awake in a cold sweat. It was just a dream, he thought, feeling relieved. It went to wrap around your body only to be met with the mattress. It was only just a dream right? Where were you? He began to panic. He got out of bed and searched the apartment. A huge wave of relief washes over him as he finds you in the kitchen with a cup in your hand. He couldn’t wrap his arms around you quick enough.

You jump at the sudden embrace, relaxing when you realize it’s just Gunil.

“Are you ok? You feel clammy,” you ask concerned after noticing his current state.

“I’m fine I just had a nightmare,” he elucidates keeping you in his hold.

“Oh my poor baby. Did you dream you lost all your muscles?” you say, causing him to laugh.

“Worse, but I don’t want to think about it anymore,” he said. You nodded understandingly.

“Ok let’s go back to bed,” you say walking back to the bedroom.

Jungsu

Jungsu was standing right by your side as the two of you were walking around a local park. It was nighttime and there weren't any people close by. Your hands were interlaced. The moon shone brightly. There was a slight cool breeze.

“Jungsu,” you spoke up.

“Yes?” he asked.

“I’m sorry,” you said while letting go of his hand and your footsteps halted.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, very confused. You had nothing to be sorry for as far as he knew.

“I don’t love you anymore,” Those words made his heart crack immediately. It couldn’t be true.

“What are you saying y/n? Stop playing,” Jungsu pleaded.

“I’m not playing Jungsu, I'm really sorry,” you said before quickly walking away.

Jungsu springs up from the bed. His breath is heavy and his heart still hurts. It hurts even more when he turns to your side of the bed seeing it empty. The sound of the toilet flushing catches his attention. In reality it was only a matter of seconds but for Jungsu it felt like an eternity before you walked back into the bedroom.

“Sorry did I wake you up?” you ask him when you saw his frame sitting up on the bed. He got up from the bed and gently pulled you into a hug.

“I love you,” he stated with fragility in his voice.

“I love you too,” you replied, pulling slightly away to look at his face. Your heart is now the one that cracks when you see tears pricking his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“I had a nightmare. You said you didn’t love me anymore and left,” he began to sniffle.

“Hey it’s ok. It was just a dream. I love you very much, so don’t cry,” you reassured him, leaning up to give him a kiss on his nose. Once you’re back in bed he rests his head on your chest, arms around your waist as your heartbeat lulls him back to sleep.

Gaon/Jiseok

Jiseok feels numb as your words ring on his head.

“My mother doesn’t approve of our relationship,” How could she not approve? She hasn’t even actually met him yet. He treated you well. Did he not? Was he unknowingly a bad boyfriend? All these questions boggled his mind.

“What does that mean?” Is the question that left his mouth.

“We have to break up. I can’t be with someone my mother doesn’t approve of. I’m really sorry.” Each word made him feel heavier.

“I haven’t even met her in person yet. Certainly I could change her mind,” His says, trying to grab onto the last bit of hope for your relationship.

“Like I said I’m sorry, but my mom has made up her mind and I have too. Take care Jiseok,” Just like that you left him and his knees finally gave out.

Jiseok’s eyes shoot open. The early raise of the sun barely illuminates the room. He lets out a sigh, realizing it was just a dream. He turns over to face you. Eyes opening wider yet again when he sees you’re not there. He throws the covers off of him and begins his search for you. Fearing that maybe you did actually leave. That fear subsides when he finds you on the couch, laptop open on your lap as your busily type away.

“Y/n,” he calls your name. You stop typing looking up from your laptop. Once you see Jiseok you open your arms for a hug. He quite literally throws himself into your arms.

“Oof, did you miss me that much?” you asked, taken aback by his actions.

“I had a dream you broke up with me because your mom didn’t approve,” You laugh at his words. “Aye! It’s not funny,” he complained.

“No, no your right it’s not funny. I’m just laughing because my mom adores you and she keeps bugging me about how bad she wants to meet you,” you explained.

“Really?” he asked

“Really, so you have nothing to worry about, ok?” He no longer felt heavy. In fact he now felt light, like he could fly.

O.de/Seungmin

You and Seungmin were sitting at the kitchen table. The drinks you guys had were long forgotten by the heartwrenching conversation the two of you were having.

“I feel like you never have time for you,” you confessed.

“I know being an idol makes me very busy, but y/n any free second I have I spend it with you,”

“I’m aware and I’m thankful. I just feel like I’m a girlfriend when you have time. At first I was ok with it, but now I don’t think it’s enough. I know I’m being selfish, but I’m just not happy anymore,” your words are a lot to process. He doesn’t even know if he can process them. He always prioritized your happiness though and if you weren’t happy, no matter how much it killed him he’d let you go.

“Please be happy,” he said despite all the happiness leaving his body as you walk away.

Seungmin’s eyes open and slowly begin to adjust to the dark room. He takes a few breaths trying to regain himself after that horrible dream. His hand moves across the bed to find yours. When it doesn’t he loses his breath all over again, but then his ears pick up on the sound of a facet running. Not long after it turns off you return to the room with a glass of water in hand.

Finally he’s able to breathe again. You crawl back into bed after placing the glass down on the bedside table. His arms are quick to pull you against him.

“Sorry did I wake you?” You question him.

“No, a bad dream woke me up,” he informs. You turn around in his embrace, so that you can face him.

“What was it about?” you ask gently caressing his hair.

“You broke up with me, cause you felt like I didn't have enough time for you,”

“That’s stupid you give me more than enough time,” you say, moving to tuck your head into his chest. “Go back to sleep. I’ll keep the stupid nightmares away,” Seungmin now rest soundly.

Junhan/Hyeongjun

“Hyeongjun I feel like you’re not that committed to our relationship,” These words of yours broke him. Not committed? You were one of the people that he loved most. How could he not be committed to you? Was it because he was bad at voicing his feelings? Did he not tell you he loved you enough? Was it because it was hard for him to open up about his problems? Was he really still too closed off with you? Many doubts began to plague his mind.

“I’ll do better,” he proclaimed, not wanting you to leave him.

“Hyeongjun you are good. I just don’t think your personality can give me what I want in a relationship. You should be with someone who understands you better. I’m sorry that it’s not me,” Just like that you’re gone. Taking a piece of his heart with you and leaving him with the question, was he a bad lover?

He sits up, now leaning to rest against the headboard. He knows that it was just a dream. He couldn’t help but feel scared now though. What if a part of you actually felt that way. Could he not love you the way you wanted? He tries to calm his mind by looking at your spot on the bed, but he sees that it's empty. He's anything but calm. He throws the covers off of him and leaves the room. You had to be somewhere right? He finds you sitting on the kitchen counter. Having some late night munchies. He slowly walks over to you and hugs you, head resting on your shoulder.

“I love you….so much,” he confesses in a voice filled with sincerity.

“I know, I love you so much too,” you say, putting your food down to hug him. “Are you ok?” you ask sensing that something was wrong.

“I had a bad dream and I need you to know how much you mean to me,” his voice is a bit muffled by your shirt.

“Don’t worry Hyeongjun I know how much I mean to you and you mean just as much if not more to me. Now let’s go back to bed,” you told him, climbing down from the counter.

Jooyeon

Jooyeon was sitting with you on the couch. His attention was absorbed solely on the game he was playing on his phone. That’s until his attention is destroyed.

“Jooyeon I think you’re too immature for this relationship,” these words of yours destroyed more than just his attention to the game. He knew that he could be a bit childish at times, but he wasn’t an immature person. At least he thought so.

“I don’t want to have a child as a boyfriend,” you told him

“What are you saying?” he asks, heart pounding in his chest.

“I’m breaking up with you,” you say. His heart no longer pounds, it shatters. All that he can think about is that he should have been better, less childish. Maybe if he had just eaten his vegetables.

Jooyeon jolts awake. His heart is back to pounding. “It was just a dream,” he tells himself, but when he rolls over to see that you’re not there he can’t help but feel panicked. He rushed from the bedroom. Knocking his shoulder against the door frame as we went, but he didn’t care.

He found you sitting at the kitchen table working on something on your laptop.

“I’m sorry! I won’t play games when we’re spending time together anymore and I’ll eat more vegetables!” He proclaims as he drapes himself over your body in a type of back hug.

“Woah, woah, calm down. What type of dream did you have to make you say all that?” you question, very surprised by all his words.

“You broke up with me because you thought I was too immature, but I’ll be better I promise,”

“Jooyeon calm down. I don’t think that you’re too immature. You should definitely eat more vegetables though,” you tell him.

“You don’t think I’m more of a child than a boyfriend right?” he asks with some alarm still in his voice.

“No, you’re very much my boyfriend, so don’t worry so much alright?” He nodded his head, but still keeps holding you, not ready to let go just yet.

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emilybahu · 17 days

Text

Just a culmination of thoughts I had and moments I liked during 7x06:

This ended up being MUCH longer than an expected, I just kept adding things to it! So you totally don’t need read the whole thing just skim through if you want…

1. Maddie about a minute away from a panic attack, but still looking stunning✨

2. Hen looks like she’s gonna go all angry mom mode on Buck and Eddie, who are looking ROUGH… she gives them a look that should put the fear of god into anyone!

3. You know, I just wanted them to have one major milestone that didn’t involve one or both of them being in danger, but NOOOO! We don’t even know where Chimney is and Buck and Eddie are a complete hit mess! Evan “✨it’s complicated✨” Buckley.

4. Oh my god I love Buck and Eddie and their shared brain cell so much! Their bickering is hilarious! Buck slapping Eddie’s hand away from the sliders and later Eddie saying, “reach for them and you’ll be pulling back a bloody stump!” 🤣🤣🤣

5. RAVI WHAT ARE YOU DOING, DO YOU WANT TO DIE!? 🤣

6. “Wholesome 80s themed karaoke” and Eddie proposing that he and Buck go as Crockett and Tubbs.

7. I kinda figured Chimney wouldn’t show seeing as HE DIDN’T WANT A PARTY. Then everyone leaves and it’s JUST Buck and Eddie, because of course!

8. And back to Buck and Tommy again… Tommy has to go and put out a LITERAL fire and we get a second Buck/Tommy hug in the span of like 3 minutes! I’m getting FED they are so cute and soft, and Tommy really doesn’t want to leave but has no choice… the soft hug and “be safe” I’m sorry my heart is melting! 🫠❤️

9. Buck and Eddie are just having A TIME with all these random people, and of course being the touch starved boys they are, you get a little (a lot) of alcohol in em they obviously need to have physical contact at all times! 🤣

10. Drunk Buck being like “we don’t have a key🥺” and Drunk Eddie “you don’t need a key,” (hand on shoulder, thumb on pulse point) “we’re fire fighters👨‍🚒😈” continues to kick in the door!

11. CHAOS ENTERS THE BUILDING, I couldn’t stop laughing! Honestly I didn’t realize Buck and Eddie could party this hard! Buck wakes up on the floor, Eddie’s in the bath tub (a shirt? What’s that? Never heard of it) and Chimney is FUCKING NO WHERE TO BE FOUND! 😬

12. Cut to Maddie desperately trying to get ahold of Chimney and track him down, but he’s somewhere in his car dazed, confused and clearly UNWELL! And his car gets freaking stolen!

13. The dinner celebrating Kevin’s life 🥲

14. Gosh dang it, everyone in the room together worried about Chimney, god my heart! I hope they find him soon!

15. Maddie showing up at the dispatch center in her wedding dress! The woman means business! SHE GONNA FIND HER MAN!

16. Doug, DOUG!? What are you doing torturing Chimney in his subconscious!? No one wants you here!

17. Seeing Maddie’s reaction to Chimney in this state is heartbreaking! She just wants to make sure he’s ok, but he’s clearly not!😢

18. Bruh, we keep getting jump scared by Doug, I’m so DONE with that guy!

19. Time jump to two weeks earlier… “telling Buck ‘no’ is like telling a dog not to jump your leg” just more proof that Buck is a man with the soul of a golden retriever puppy…🤣

20. Bobby saying “well evidently our two love birds over there were enjoying some sexy time, when they heard some weeping” had me wheezing! 😂

21. When they figured out what was wrong with Chimney I got so scared, even though I knew he’d likely be fine. Never know what might happen though…

22. When Chimney’s paramedic skills kicked back in it gave me hope, then he saw Doug again… and still didn’t remember that he’s actually a paramedic.

23. He knows he needs to be somewhere and he hears Buck calling for him, Chimney knows they’re looking for him, then freaking Doug makes him almost give up fighting! 🥲

24. NO DOUG🙄 MADDIE DIDN’T FUCKING LIKE BEING ABUSED!

25. KEVIN🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 Kevin telling Chimney he NEEDS to get up and get help!

26. Maddie in the hospital with Chimney, thinking he doesn’t remember her then him saying “I’m sorry I missed our wedding” GOD MY HEART!

27. Jee running in yelling “daddy!” 🥹

28. “We always get back to each other somehow” please! My heart can’t handle this! They’re meant to be!!🥹😭

29. “I know Kevin is smiling right now” “yeah he is” I can’t breathe! I’m shocked I didn’t cry!

30. Just the whole ceremony, Bobby officiating! Everyone so happy for them together after this day they’ve had! I’m just gonna melt into a puddle of pure emotion! 🥹🥺

31. I love them. I love them! I LOVE THEM!!!!!❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

32. Buck looking down at his phone to see that Tommy told him he’s there 🤭🤭

33. I made a whole post about this kiss, ahhhhhh!! (My reaction remains the same every time I watch it, I lose control of my limbs, my voice gets all high and squeaky, and I lose the ability to form actual words) The damn 10 second scene still has me SHOOK! 😆🫨

34. Buck pulling Tommy into the room, Tommy apologizing for missing the ceremony and Chimney looking up at him and over to Buck and saying “Thanks tommy, looks like you were… busy” (I didn’t even think about how long Buck was gone before, but since they had time to cut and serve cake to everyone Buck had to be just in another world with Tommy for at least 20 minutes…)

35. Hen’s face when she realizes that Buck and Tommy totally were just making out! And Eddie being the supportive king of a bff that the is!

36. The Buckley parents faces… I’ll be ready to throw hands in a second if they say something homophobic later on!

37. Hen saying “well it’s about damn time” to Karen!! Ahhhhhh! Girlllll!!! Are telling me you could see Buck’s raging bisexuality THE WHOLE TIME!? 😆😆😆😆 She so CLOCKED HIM!

38. Chimney feels right at home anywhere if he and Maddie are together!! ❤️🫠🥹

39. Not them mentioning the cruise ship!! Too soon, too soon! 🫠 But I also laughed!😂

40. “So, were Buck and Tommy a thing before my amnesia?” “Um yeah, actually they were.” (Still trying to figure out how much time there was between the coffee date and the wedding… I have no clue. [Please can someone tell me!?])

41. “Why do they call me Chimney?” And cut to black…. Really, REALLY!? That was cruel, so rude. They’re never gonna tell us why they call him Chimney are they?

And that’s the end!

#911 abc #9-1-1 #evan buckley #eddie diaz #tommy kinard #maddie buckley #chimney han #hen wilson #madney wedding #911 7x06 #911 spoilers #just my thoughts

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ghostofskywalker · 4 months

Note

Could I please request the prompt "am I your favorite?" with tech?

My heart almost imploded imagining him saying that🥲 he deserves the world

thank you for the request, sorry it's taken so long! this prompt was cute for him!

words: 825

summary: You've always found it easier to exist when everyone else was asleep. Eventually, another person joins your routine.

Comfort, Silence, and Conversations in the Middle Of The Night

clone troopers masterlist || request a winter ficlet!

For you, things just made more sense in the middle of the night. You didn’t always understand it and you never dared to question it, but it was the way you lived. That meant volunteering to take night watches whenever possible, realizing that your creativity flowed better whenever most people around you were fast asleep, and most importantly, learning how to exist on your own, since there weren’t a lot of others who shared your lifestyle. As life went on, it became more difficult to live exclusively at night, but you made it work.

Now, as you traveled on the Havoc Marauder, you found yourself between two worlds. During the day you helped where you could, often interacting with your fellow shipmates at the beginnings or ends of their waking hours, and you tried to sleep in between. At night, you worked on the ship or your other tinkering projects, kept watch as it hurtled through hyperspace, and just existed in your own little bubble.

Occasionally you would have visitors, but it was never consistent. Sometimes Hunter or Echo would be unable to sleep or Omega would have a bad dream, and the two of you would spend some time together in the quiet of the ship’s cockpit for a night, but they wouldn’t return the next time you were there.

So when Tech started keeping you company in the middle of the night, you were a little surprised, to say the least.

It started out as a once in a while thing, where he would wordlessly step into the room and the two of you would acknowledge each other before continuing to work on whatever you wanted. If the others on the ship had seen it, they might have gently teased you for not talking to each other, barely exchanging a word at greeting, but just the presence of another person was enough for you, especially when you weren’t sure what had caused Tech’s change in behavior.

Soon, you realized that it had become a daily thing. Tech’s sleep schedule now mirrored yours, and you didn’t know how to feel. At this point you felt safe enough from the crushing grip of the Empire that you weren’t too worried about being followed or attacked, but you also didn’t want to ignore this change if something was bothering him, or something was wrong that you didn’t know about.

It took more rotations than you would like to admit, but eventually you worked up the courage to break the silence and asked. “Why do you spend all your time here in the middle of the night?”

He looked at you, slightly puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“As long as I’ve been on the ship, you’ve always slept at this time. What prompted the change in routine?”

“Oh,” he said, his eyes shifting downward. “I wanted to keep you company.”

Well, that definitely wasn’t what you were expecting to hear, and you couldn’t help the shock that took over your face. “What?” you asked softly.

“You’ve always spent your time here alone,” he said. “Maybe once in a while someone would be out here, but it wasn’t a guarantee. I know that my life is better with those that I care about, and I wanted to make sure you weren’t feeling lost or lonely. Even if that means just tinkering together.”

Your mouth feel open, and immediately you almost teared up. “Tech, that’s so thoughtful,” you said. “No wonder you’re my favorite.”

That last part was said without really thinking, even though it was absolutely true. “Am I really your favorite?”

“Of course,” you responded. “It can be lonely out here when you live like I do, and I thought that I had gotten over all the negative emotions that come with it. But I guess that I realized how much I enjoyed spending time with someone else, even if we weren’t really interacting at all.”

“You should never be lonely,” he said, a small smile crossing his face. “And you’re my favorite too.”

Now it was your turn to be shocked. “Really?”

“Of course,” he said. “I wouldn’t do this for my brothers, that’s ridiculous.”

You had a sneaking feeling that his words weren’t actually true, even if he believed they were. But as much as you wanted to comment on the fact that you knew his heart was bigger than he said it was, you didn’t want to lose this growing connection with him. So of course, the easiest way to do that was to change the subject. “Do you want to come work on modding this datapad with me?”

“Of course, what features did you plan on including in the upgrade?”

This type of connection might not work for everyone else, and some of it was certainly unexpected from Tech, but you’d never felt less lonely in your entire life than you did right now, and that was something you never wanted to change.

- the end -

i no longer have a taglist! if you're interested in being notified when i post, you can follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library and turn on notifications!

#winterficlets23 #tbb tech x reader #tech x reader #tbb tech x you #tech x you #tbb tech x gender neutral reader #the bad batch x reader #star wars x reader

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velaryqns · 1 year

Note

Hey!

Can you do a Robert Chase x imagine?

Chase is married to his co-worker that also works with House.

Chase and his wife has a daughter together who is almost 2years old and she is her daddy’s little girl.

After chase got stabbed and he needed to stay home for awhile, he was giving his wife the cold shoulder and even to his daughter. Chase and his wife gets in a fight at the hospital which makes chase realize what he has done and he is trying to go everything for his wife and daughter.

Something like what happened in season 8 and episode 12

On Your Side

Pairing: Robert Chase x Female Reader

Universe: House MD

Summary: after your husband is stabbed during work, your relationship seemingly changes and you need to prove to him that you’re on his side no matter what

Warnings: mentions of a stabbing, angst, it’s a long piece (sorry, I like long pieces 🥲)

Author’s Note; I was so excited when I saw this request; Chase and Wilson are my favorite House characters and I don’t get requests for Chase. I’m really excited for this story! I did age their daughter up for plot purposes

Your day had started off normally; or as normally as it could when both you and your husband, Robert Chase, worked under Greg House on the diagnostics team. You had woken up early to shower for the day, then woke up your daughter; Ivy Chase. The four year old was exited to see you, and you tasked her with waking up Robert.

He faked being asleep, teasing her until he woke up to tickle her. Squeals filled the room and you watched with a satisfied smile as your sat on your’s and Robert’s shared bed. He looked up at you with the smile you had fallen in love with at the very start of your relationship. You leaned down and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“Morning,” he said softly when you pulled away. To which you smiled and ran your hand over his disheveled hair.

Ivy mimicked you, giving her dad a kiss on his nose and then playing with his hair. He looked at her in fake shock, and his attention returned to your daughter entirely. Ivy was a daddy’s girl, from the moment she was born. Ivy was born within your first year of being married to Robert, but she completed your family and she was something he truly needed.

Ivy was a split image of the both of you, and completely spoiled by her father. Robert insisted on helping you as much as possible after Ivy’s birth, and truly focused on bonding with his daughter during his time away from the hospital.

Your morning continued normally, the two of you getting Ivy ready for her daycare stay. You both covered her with hugs and kisses and a promise that you would pick her up as soon as you got off work.

How wrong that promise was.

You had been with Foreman, asking him for his opinions of the chemistry teacher. Even with Eric Foreman being the Dean of Medicine, he was still one of your closest friends and someone you had always bounced ideas off of since he joined the Diagnostics team.

You pair were interrupted by you being paged. Robert had been stabbed. You didn’t know the extent of the damage, but still ran out of Foreman’s office for sight of your husband. Taub had Jessica Adams keep you out of the room, where she informed you of what had led to the stabbing, as well as where it was.

Of course you cried, and immediately knew you couldn’t take part in either case anymore. You needed to be there for Robert. Once he was brought out of the OR, you followed and sat beside him. The rest of the team sat around the room, and you didn’t bother to ask them to leave.

Holding his hand, you didn’t leave Robert’s side except to call your mother to pick Ivy up and briefly explaining what happened. You watched your husband closely. He looked so different…the blood loss and anesthesia had heavily effected him.

Your peace was short lived when House came in insisting that you and the rest of the team drop everything to return to the “real” patient. Taub insisted that House leave, or at least let you stay with Robert. You were his wife.

When Robert woke up, you got excited. You squeezed his hand, smiling at him and inching closer to Robert.

“Hey, hey,” you whispered, rubbing his arm with your opposite hand, “You’re okay, I’m right here. You’re in the pac-u.”

He groaned, squeezing your hand slightly. You breathed a sigh of relief and rest your head on his shoulder. Your joy faded when he asked if he had been given an epidural, and then explained that he couldn’t feel his legs.

You sat in silence, processing your husband’s words while the team began to theorize as to what was going on. You were automatically off of helping for obvious reasons, and could only sit in silence and hold his hand while you listened. But you noticed that Robert was slowly pulling away from you, but you couldn’t fight him; he was already stressed enough.

Being interrogated by Cofield didn’t make matters any better, and you wanted nothing more than to go back to early in the morning when you and Robert had been curled up with Ivy. The two of you weren’t worried about the chance of Robert being stabbed by a patient dealing with psychosis, let alone him losing feeling in his legs.

House and the rest of the team being cleared to continue their practice didn’t matter to you; what mattered was your husband. You spent the next three weeks helping Robert as much as you could. Whether this was getting him to and from physical therapy or helping him at home. Or you tried to.

Robert grew to push both you and Ivy away. She had already rarely been home because your mother didn’t want you dealing with the stress of tending to both your toddler and your husband. And when she was home she wanted to see her father. To see the smile he had given to her before the accident. But it didn’t show.

Two weeks into his treatment, Robert was on crutches and managing much better on his own. You still tried to help here and there, but were glad to have Ivy back in the house. You understood that Robert was struggling, but you wanted your family to be back to how it had been two weeks ago.

One night you were tucking Ivy into bed, placing her favorite stuffed teddy from her dad on the bed next to her. She looked up to you with eyes that shone like her dad’s, and you smiled down at her.

Ivy, though only four, was an intelligent little girl. She often picked up on when there was tension between you and Robert, or when one of your were upset after a case or argument. And you knew she had noticed Robert’s shift in behavior as well.

“Is daddy okay?” She asked, playing with the ears of the teddy bear. She held the bear close and you felt tears prick in your eyes as you forced a smile on your face, “I miss my morning tickles.”

“I know baby,” you sighed and pushed her hair back, rubbing her forehead with your thumb, “Daddy’s okay…he’s just dealing with something in his own way. Like how you do when mommy and daddy take a toy away for being naughty.”

Ivy hummed, nodding slightly. You knew she couldn’t fully understand what you were trying to tell her. You tucked the blankets into her sides more and then rose to your feet. She watched you before she spoke up again.

“Mommy,” you hummed at her as you folded your arms and smiled at her, “Daddy still love us?”

“Of course, baby,” you assured her, then pressed a kiss to your fingers tips before gently placing them on her forehead, “Now go to sleep.”

You walked out of the room, turning off the big light and only the illumination of her night light is what filled the room. You walked through the silent house, stopping in the living room briefly to see Robert in the place he’d taken residence in: the couch.

He was sitting on the couch reading a book, his legs propped up on the table. Coffee sat on a coaster, and he didn’t acknowledge your presence when you walked in.

Sighing, you stopped by the couch and folded your arms, “You are welcome in our bed.”

He hummed, looking over at you. For a brief moment you saw your Robert again, but then he looked back at the book that was in his lap. Clenching your jaw you shook your head and walked out of the room, going down the hallway and entering the bedroom.

You changed in silence, then turned off the light and climbed into bed. You purposely faced away from Robert’s side, as you had done for the past two weeks. You couldn’t bare facing the empty side of your bed, the side Robert was supposed to take up just as much as he took up yours.

Over the next few days, everything remained out of rhythm. Robert not only pulled away from what he had built for him at home, but at work as well. You’d eventually had enough, and couldn’t take the constant silent treatment from your own husband.

You walked to a table at the cafeteria, seeing him sitting in silence and reading his book. You sighed and approached the table, folding your arms and looking down at him.

“We need to talk,” you told him.

“It can wait for at home,”

“So you can ignore me and our daughter longer?” I snapped, I sat at the table and leveled a glare at him. Robert brought his gaze up to your own, eyes locking, “You’ll never believe the type of question Ivy asked me the other night. We need to talk, or I’m going to stay with my mother and Ivy will go with me.”

He hesitated, but then stood from the table and waited for you to follow him. The two of you walked into the diagnostic conference room, knowing the rest of the team was away for lunch or to do tasks for House.

“Robert, I have been trying to help you,” You began, trying to keep your tone level and. It show your emotions, “For the past three weeks I have been trying to help you take care of yourself. You have done nothing but push me away at every turn. At the start of the week Ivy asked me if you still love us. Why should our daughter being those kinds of questions. Especially with how little she is?”

Robert was silent, pressing his lips into a thin line as he processed your words. Robert watched your for a moment, and then nodded, “You know I’ve been processing what happened —“

“That gives you no right to push away the people who care about you,” you snapped, dragging a hand down your face as you shook your head, “I love you. Ivy loves you. We want to help you get better and I don’t have the patience to continue and act like this doesn’t hurt me. Watching you heal from the accident hurt enough. But you’re shutting me out Robert! You don’t understand, but I am on your side. I always have been, I didn’t marry you for nothing.”

“I’m sorry,” he said almost immediately, setting the crutches aside and walking up to you. He placed his hands on your upper arms, looking down at you and shaking his head, “I’ve acted wrong, I’m sorry. Of course I love the both of you, and I’d never intentionally push the both of you out of my life like that. I can’t lose you. I don’t want to.”

You were silent for a moment, processing your husband’s words before you moved his hands from your arms and took them into your own. You have a small smile to him, “Don’t just apologize to me.”

You were relieved to go home, hugging Ivy and adorning her with tons of kisses as you moved to start preparing supper for the two of you. Robert said he needed to finish some things in the clinic, and you didn’t want to cause another argument at work about work.

You and Ivy settled for your meal, and were interrupted by the front door opening. You turned to see Robert walking in with a grocery bag in one hand a tub of ice cream in the other. You raised brow at him as he struggled into the house and Ivy rushed into his arms.

“Ivy baby, you still need to be careful,” you called out and rose to your feet. You grabbed the items from his hands and Robert let you take his crutches and set them aside.

Robert lifted Ivy and looked toward you, “I hope there’s some supper for me?”

“In the microwave,” you confirmed, walking alongside him toward the dining room. He kissed Ivy and told her to climb back in her chair while you walked to the kitchen.

Robert sat in his chair as you warmed up his plate of food and bri fight it to them. As he began to dig in, you out the ice cream away. You began digging through the bag and froze at a small felt box in your hand. You looked up curiously, and he caught your eye with a small smile.

You opened the box and found a small gold necklace. Shaking your head you closed the box again, chuckling to yourself and continuing to put everything away. After a night of ice cream and movies, Robert insisted on putting Ivy to bed. You could hear her laughter and his voice as he told her a story.

He eventually limped into the living room, watching from where you were in the kitchen cleaning up for the night. You had just finished up and shut off the light to leave the kitchen.

“I’m going to bed,” you told Robert, sending a smile in his direction, “Night.”

You had already changed and climbed into bed when you heard the door open. You did not pay attention to Robert until you felt the bed dip. He inched closer to you and his arm wrapped around your waist. You let Robert pull you as close as his wound would allow, before you brought your hand up to cover his own.

“I love you,” he whispered softly, pressing a kiss behind you ear.

You smiled softly and brought his hand to your lips, “I love you too. And I’m happy you came to your senses.”

You had your Robert back, and things were already looking much better.

#fanfic #fanfiction writer #oneshots #reader insert #gregory house x reader #house x reader #james wilson x reader #allison cameron #gregory house #house md #robert chase x reader #robert chase #jesse spencer #floridwrites

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tokosparrow · 6 months

Text

“Hello! I'm new to requesting so if I suck MB... I really love Matthew patel and there's very little fanfics of him out there 🥲 how about Matthew being beat by Scott (in a world where he doesn't explode into coins) and after everyone leaves, reader helps him collect himself and they end up being friends, and then later on they confess? Gender neutral reader would be nice!! Thank you 💚”

a/n : thank you @habitabel for the request!! i also love how wholesome this is so double thanks (ps. this has slight angst) :3

you were having a great time watching the battle of the bands, you had a shared amount of favorite bands you wanted to see, especially the one named sex bomb-omb was it? soon you became much more invested when some guy flew through the roof, killing the band that was supposed to be battling.

‘oh wow…’ you thought, watching the guy challenging the bassist, poor guy you suppose.

matthew patel you soon to find out it’s the guys name gets pretty mad, soon you watched as the two fought over a girl named romona flowers? you watched, amused, as matthew sung and fought, soon loosing to the bassist, leaving the poor guy defeated on the floor. everyone has soon started leaving since the performance was basically over, the guy still being left on the floor which pulled onto your heart strings.

as people continued to leave you walked up to the guys body to check on him just once before you left yourself, you place your hand onto his chest gently to make sure he was still breathing as he was landed on his back pretty hard. soon a groan came from him leading you to quickly take your hand back as you jumped a bit.

“you okay man? you hit the ground pretty hard…” you asked as you watched him open his eyes and trying to sit himself up.

“yea…i’m alright..” he responded, struggling just a bit, yet you you helped him hold him to his feet.

“your name is matthew patel, right?” he nods as you asked, still feeling shaked up. “im (Y/N), im gonna take you the hospital to make sure you’re alright”, you say as you help led him as he still struggled.

then you know it, about a year passed and the both of you and matthew became good friends after you helped him so kindly, and he was ever so grateful for someone like you, you felt the same. which led you into a small problem, you somehow gained a crush on your friend that you became so close with, it was something you thought about over and couldn’t put a finger on just why you liked matthew so much.

you were on a bench in your local park as this thought pondered in your mind, sighing and lost in your thoughts as small hue of red creeped onto your cheeks as you thought of matthew again and again thinking that maybe today is day you get the confession over with. you didn’t even noticed that he already somehow spotted you from across the park and running toward you as fast as he could.

“(Y/N)..!!” “Matthew!?” you shouted in response as the scream of him calling your name out pulled you out of your imagination.

as he stopped infront of you, hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath, soon making eye contact with you, with your eyes already placed on him hiding the slight blush on your cheeks.

“i saw you…across the park…so i decided… to come over and talk..” he said taking breaths inbetween a couple words, soon sitting himself next to you.

“you alright…you seemed out of it” hearing his concerned tone made you fidget just a bit, deciding whether if you should go though with this confession.

“yea…is it weird to like a friend?” you asked out of the blue as you continued to fidget, confusing matthew just a bit but soon leading him to smile.

“sooo who’s this lucky person?” hitting your arm playfully with his elbow, soon realizing that this seems a bit serious.

“well…it’s not weird okay..?” rubbing his neck as he says so, “if you’re comfortable, you could tell me who it is…?”

you thought for a moment, then you sighed. better now or never, you look at him and took a deep breath as to give yourself a moment before telling him the truth.

“i like…well…” you say placing your hand onto his hand that was on the bench, looking at him feeling much more nervous than before, “i like you matthew…”

he looked at you for moment, almost speechless and trying to put a single thought together on how to respond. you took him being speechless for the worse and stood up, a bit of tears formed in your eyes and looking down as you didn’t want to make any eye contact with him for one moment out of embarrassment.

“i’m sorry…i-..” “wait (Y/N)…i…” matthew took your hands as he stood up and before you could walk away, gently holding both of your hands into his as it’s like he doesn’t want to hurt them.

“i…i like you a whole lot too, much more than you think..” he admits confidently, caressing your hands as he does so.

“i’ve liked you a lot for a while yknow” he says as he smiles, soon placing one of his hands on your cheeks, gaining a small smile from you which made him happy.

as matthew has his hand place on your cheek, he felt his heart start to race slowly, soon placing a kiss on your lips which was returned. with a moment so valuable, there were a surprise that neither you or matthew could possibly predict.

“woah, sparks??” you two both said confused as the kiss quickly was broken to see what just happened.

you two looked at each other once again, soon laughing and giggling as you two embrace each other in a hug, both of your foreheads against each other. what a great way to confess, you both must’ve thought at the moment.

ahahahahshaa, im so in love with him <333

#matthew patel x reader #matthew patel #scott pilgrim takes off #scott pilgrim vs the world #toko writes

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jakeyt · 1 year

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Something

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Summary: On a rainy day, Jake's Les Paul gives you an idea.

Word Count: 6.7k+

Warnings: fluff <3; cursing; sexually explicit content (18+, MINORS DNI); light dom/sub; oral sex (m + f receiving); unprotected penetrative sex

a/n: so, i was watching gvf's pinkpop performance of wod/highway tune yesterday (my personal fav) . . .and i got a filthy idea. i couldn't get it out of my head, so 6,700+ words later, here we are. this is the first smut i'm putting on here, so i'm admittedly very nervous. 🥲

if there is some possible way you haven't heard 'something' by the beatles, i would give it a listen while you read :)

thank you to @joshym for always proofreading/editing. ily <3

i hope this filth is received kindly lmao <3

🌧️🎶

Something

It was a lazy morning in the middle of spring. The flowers that you were watering right outside your home were in full bloom. The sight made you happy, and the strumming on the guitar that you heard through the open window made your heart flutter. A small smile was fitted to your face.

Life couldn’t get any better.

The guys were on a slight break from their recent touring, giving you ample time with your boyfriend, Jake.

You missed him terribly when he was gone on tour. Though, you had decided years ago when you’d started dating, that you didn’t want to live your life only to follow him along wherever he went. You wanted him to have his own time. Time to himself, with his brothers, to live out his passion. And had made the decision for yourself, too — you couldn’t abandon your own life plans like that.

You had dreamt forever of being a teacher, and you loved your students too much to leave them behind. And Jake loved that about you. He wanted you to be able to have the career you’d wanted for so long, just as he had his. His appreciation for your career only encouraged you more to stay behind and do what you loved.

But these moments? You wished life was different. You wished you were living in a timeline where the two of you could always be together.

The sounds he made while playing his guitar soothed you. He was playing some of your shared favorites on his guitar, making butterflies erupt. He knew how much music meant to you, just as it did him.

He loved that you two shared the understanding that there was intimacy like no other in music. These melodies you heard made it so clear that he was communicating to you through the melodies. Different tunes took you through untouchable moments in time. Moments the two of you had so sweetly shared.

The thunder that rolled in the clouds above you shook you slightly from your love-struck thoughts. You peeked up to see the sky. In your daze, clouds had started to gather above. When you’d come out an hour or so ago, the sky was mostly blue, only a few clouds littering.

The rain started coming quicker than you could cooperate with. You ran to the spout to turn off the hose water, and as you turned it off, you realized you left the hose itself draped across the lawn.

Dammit. Now you’d have to go back around the house to gather it all up. You wished you had grabbed it when you came to the spout. As you smashed your feet though the grass that only seemed to continually grow wetter and wetter by the stomp, you turned the corner to come back to the front of your house.

You had no choice but to halt your steps, colliding with a hard chest. You almost slipped in the wet grass. You looked up to the person in front of you, already knowing it was Jake.

Your eyebrows scrunched. “Go back in! You’re going to get wet,” your voice elevated as the rain seemed to start coming down even harder.

You were already completely drenched, your hair heavy on your head, just as the clothes on your body. You watched him bite his lip. Hooded eyes scanned over you, stopping at your tank top, where your nipples were completely hardened underneath.

He blinked away the lust in his eyes and got back to the topic at hand.

“Babe,” his voice was also loud. “I’m already soaked,” he laughed, looking down to his partially-open button down. The rain was creating perfect droplets on his tanned chest. One of his toned pecs flexed slightly at the feeling of it. Your thighs tightened at the sight of it, a jolt at your core. “Just go inside, let me finish this.”

You then looked down to where his hand had moved slightly and noticed the hose was in his grip. Tears then grew in your eyes at the sentiment.

“Jake,” your tone was one of complete adoration, for more reasons than one.

He was already wrapping the hose around his arm. He had a small smile on his face when he repeated, “Go. Inside.”

Your cheeks flushed and your bare feet shuffled to move past him, slipping slightly in the grass. From behind you, you heard him shout, “Baby, please be careful!”

🌧️🎶

You continued to heed his advice and moved with balanced steps on the hardwood floors of your home. The soles of your feet were daring to slip.

You glimpsed the living room. You saw how he’d laid his acoustic guitar on the chair. It was odd to find it out of its case, or away from a stand. He’d obviously put it down in a rush to help you as soon as the rain had started.

Your heart springed in your chest, just thinking of the way he was.

You were moving to put the guitar in its case or on the stand, when the sounds of your wet clothing made you think better of it.

You were sloshing and dripping everywhere you went. You could hear your clothes and the slaps of the water falling to meet the floor. It wouldn’t be much of a repayment for you to soak one of his prized possessions, now would it?

You decided to continue on to the master bathroom. Your skin was beginning to crawl at the feeling of your sticky clothing and heavy hair.

You flipped on the shower and as it seemed to instantly fog the bathroom (yay, warm water), you hastily stripped your shorts and tank top.

🌧️🎶

A while later, you were drying your hair in the bedroom and he was taking his shower in the master bath.

Once your hair was dry enough for your liking, you rolled the cord around the base of the dryer and put it away.

You rolled the sleeves to the sweatshirt you’d chosen to wear. You were now at a loss for what to do on a rainy day.

You sat on your shared bed. Your eyes traveled around the bedroom. Then, they landed on his worn red Les Paul, sitting so prettily on the stand.

Suddenly, an idea entered your mind that you simply couldn’t shake. Your cheeks flushed at the thought.

A sly smirk graced your features, and you had to cross your legs at the thoughts you were having.

You suddenly knew exactly how you wanted to spend your rainy day.

🌧️🎶

You waited a while to bring the idea up to Jake. You thought it would entice him, but bringing up new ideas for the bedroom could be slightly daunting to you.

You knew he loved everything you’d thought to do up until this point, but this one involved his first love. You were intimidated to bring his Les Paul into the bedroom, but you just had to try what was now settling in your mind.

You hoped he’d be okay with it.

A movie was rolling on in the background as the two of you sat, curled up on the couch. The rain still pitter-pattered against the roof and windows. You were so comfortable, legs strewn over him, one of his hands going back and forth between your thighs, massaging the tops of them.

Your hand played in his long hair. Jake was scrolling through Pinterest, scheming what he wanted to make for dinner. His lips smooshed together and shifted back and forth as he pondered.

The way he expertly rubbed your thighs, the fullness of his pink lips, and the mustache that sat on his upper lip was making your tummy do somersaults.

These simple things, along with your guitar thoughts, had your core quivering for more.

It was now or never.

“So, babe,” you halted your movements in his hair. Your hands came to rest in your blanket-covered lap.

You connected eyes with him, and his lips pouted, “Why’d you stop?”

You sighed, moving your legs so that you were sitting criss-cross underneath the blanket. When you moved, his hand had fallen from your legs. His bottom lip jutted out even further.

“Jake,” you started again, fiddling with a loose blanket thread. “How would you— I was thinking—,” you huffed. Just spit it out. “Would you be okay with—. Ugh.”

“Sweetie,” he laid a hand on your thigh again, giving it a reassuring squeeze. His phone clicked off, and he scooted up from his spot, turning to look at you directly. “It’s just me.”

You looked in his eyes. “Earlier, I thought of something,” you turned your body to face him more. “A new idea for the bedroom.”

His eyes blinked at the subject. “Oh, yeah?” His lips quirked. “You know I’m always down for new ideas.”

You grew some confidence at him reminding you of what you already knew about him. “You know how music is so important to us both,” he nodded, a sweet grin gracing his full lips at the fact. “Well, I was thinking . . .how would you feel about playing your guitar?” His eyes were questioning. You continued, “While I. . . While I blow you?”

He started coughing on a breath he drew. You looked up to see his eyes watering as he struggled to breathe. You patted at his back. The smallest tear escaped his eye and he got up from the couch.

You followed him to the kitchen where he opened the fridge door and grabbed a bottle of water.

He took a long swig from the bottle. And when he released one more cough after that drink, he took another.

He came towards you, meeting you at the island in the middle of the kitchen, eyes still watering. “I’m sorry, that was just—.” He shook his head, “It was just.”

You stepped back, nerves creeping all over again. “Oh,” You cast your eyes downward. “Okay. I totally get it. That’s why I didn’t want to bring it up. I know that involving the guitar probably wasn’t the best ide—.”

You felt his hands grip your shoulders, your head coming up. You blinked at him. “Baby,” he gave a huff of a laugh. “That is the complete opposite of how I feel about the idea. I think it’s a fucking brilliant idea.”

Your eyes grew bigger. You stepped closer to him, “Really?”

“Sweetie,” his eyes were soft again, consoling your fading worries. “The woman I love most sucking my dick while I play the guitar?” He draped his arms around your waist, bringing your front to his. You could feel a familiar hardness against your hip.

“There’s some rules, though,” you let the feeling pressed to your hip encourage you further, pushing into it. He groaned at the move. “You would have to play a song of my choosing,” you paused. “One you know, of course. But. . .,” You looped your arms around his neck. “If you mess up —if one chord is even slightly off . . . I'll stop.”

His cock pulsed against you. “Holy shit,” he breathed.

He scooped his hands underneath your ass and sat you on top of the island. His voice was low and sultry when he said, “Am I totally naked while I’m playing?”

You hadn’t even thought of how naked he’d be behind the instrument. You felt your shorts get wet at the thought, having spared your underwear after the shower.

“Oh yeah,” your tone dripped with lust. You laced your legs around his waist, bringing him as close as he could come to you. “And you have to play it laying on your back. In this plan, we’ll be on the bed.”

“Sounds like a good challenge,” he smirked. Then, he seriously asked. “Electric or acoustic?”

“Electric.”

His brown irises were the darkest you’d seen them in a long time. Your skin heated at his look. You didn’t have time to think as he dove in and crashed his lips to yours. Your pussy flexed at the action.

The urgency behind his kiss caused you to fly straight back. Your shoulders would have hit the counter hard if he hadn’t strategically placed his arms to be a cushion for your back.

He dipped his tongue between your lips, and massaged your own tongue with his. He licked at every part of your mouth, wanting to taste you. You could only hope you tasted as good as he did. He tasted like his minty fresh toothpaste. Any time Jake showered, even if it was mid-day or late at night, he brushed his teeth. It was almost like a ritual for him. You loved his attention to hygiene.

He took his mouth from yours and started kissing a wet trail down your neck. He licked a trail from your collarbone all the way to your jawline and you lustily whined for the duration of the action.

“My love,” he said into your ear. He then went behind your ear and nipped at the sensitive skin. “I want to hear you as much as I can. Be loud.”

He then completely abandoned your upper half, your legs falling from his hips. He knelt in front of you to rip away your sweatshorts.

You felt his warm breath against your thigh, in contrast to the open air hitting your naked center. He hotly said, “No underwear?”

“Nope. It didn’t align with my plan.”

“You would be correct, sweet girl,” his breath was soothing steam against your sticky heat. His hands grabbed the undersides of your thighs, kneading the flesh.

And then you felt his tongue go completely flat at your slit. He licked a precise stripe up the center of your folds. From the very bottom of your pussy to right above your clit, he’d added a healthy amount of wetness.

You groaned, earning you a few more expert slides of his tongue, back and forth over the same area he’d treated before. Though, the more he went, the sloppier they got. It always went this way: the wetter and louder you were, the less meticulous he became.

He couldn’t ever seem to concentrate, with how your sounds and reactions affected him. He always said that the way you reacted to sex sent shockwaves to his mind. Nothing else could make him go so wild.

Hence the fun of your idea.

He gripped your thighs, bringing them down closer to him. And before you knew it, he was balancing your bare legs on his shoulders, standing up with his arms wrapped around your back. He was keeping you steady as he moved you both to the bedroom.

His mouth didn’t leave your heat for even a second.

The trek wasn’t long, or else you’d have been out of sorts worried about causing his shoulders and back irreparable damage.

And he didn’t give you much time to think as he placed your backside delicately on the bed, sitting up. He rose from how he’d had to kneel to sit you down, opting to strip you of your oversized sweatshirt.

Your breasts immediately flared with goosebumps at the change in temperature. The cool air forced your nipples into even harder peaks. The way he was looking at them made your cheeks warm.

“I just love your fucking body,” he knelt down in front of where you sat and held a breast in each hand. He massaged the flesh. The rough tips of his fingers that accompanied the gentle, knowing touch elicited a moan out of you.

He grinned, then rubbed his thumbs over your sensitive nipples. “You like the way I touch them, huh, baby?”

He flicked his eyes up to yours and winked. He knew how much you loved the stimulation of your breasts. You threw your head back when he licked his way around your right nipple and then sucked it into his mouth. You couldn’t help it. You had to look down to see him work his mouth over you.

Watching his mouth work tirelessly at your nipple made you buck your hips up with want for more.

And somehow the desperate action made you remember the objective at hand. As much as you wished for him to continue, you pushed Jake back by his shoulders. You weren’t supposed to be the vulnerable one.

His eyes were equal with desire and disappointment at the loss of contact with your body.

“No, Jake,” you firmly stated. You stood up on shaky legs, moving around him. “The objective is not me. It’s about you, your Les Paul, and your dick in my mouth.”

He eyed you from his place, still on the floor. But you could see the slight twitch in his flannel pajama pants. “But I wanted you to feel pleasure, too, baby.”

You bent on a shaky knee to meet him, “Sweetie, making you happy will bring me pleasure.”

His eyebrows dipped. “But you won’t—.”

You came up from your knee. You gazed down at him, then held a finger up. “Stop. I’m in charge.”

He looked your entire figure up and down and then raised his eyebrow at you, “Yes ma’am.”

He stood up, coming close to you, though you held a hand up for him to not come too close. It might have looked like you were doing it out of dominance, but you were really doing it to keep him far enough away that roles wouldn’t reverse. He held so much sex in his pinky alone, and you wanted the upper hand.

“If you pass the test, we have sex. And for me, having you inside of me is what gets me off best,” you lifted his self-cropped gray t-shirt over his head. His silver pendant necklace connected with his tanned skin. You were stern with him and placed your hands on his chest, “That’s why it’s imperative you don’t falter.”

You traveled down to the waist of his pants and hooked your fingers into the waistband, slowly dragged them down.

His thick length sprang up as soon as the pants moved past it. The sight of the glistening pre-cum at his smooth, pink tip made your mouth water.

You were glad to see he wasn’t wearing underwear. Around the house, he rarely wore underwear if he was in comfy clothes.

You stayed where you were, appreciating just how neatly groomed he always was. You hadn’t forgotten how attentive he was to it, but seeing it again? It made your stomach flame up.

His cock pulsed as you looked at it. You felt your own arousal father at the sight.

“Oh, Jakey,” you cupped his sac, holding it softly in one hand. You were not going to touch his cock yet. He’d have to wait. He whimpered at the feeling of your hand, playing with his balls. “You like that, baby?”

You looked up from where you had kneeled in front of him, his eyes were clamped shut. His head was thrown back, per usual at your attention to his lower region. He hummed an agreeing response.

“No, no,” you took your hand away. “This is practice time, baby. Rehearsal,” you skated your hands over his bare thighs as you lifted up to stand with him. “If you can’t even keep it together when I’m holding your balls. . .I’m worried about how you’re going to do when my mouth is doing the work.”

He blinked his eyes at you a few times. His eyebrows turned in, he pleaded. “Babe, I’ll do better,” he leaned in and gave you a small kiss. He brushed your hair behind your ear. “Please?”

Your stomach fluttered at his devotion to the task. “Go get your guitar,” you gave the order, trying to keep your voice steady.

He walked over to the guitar that stayed on the stand in your room when he was home. It was the older of the two of his nearly-twin guitars. His original. He picked it up, then balanced it on the bed.

“If I don’t fix this, she’s going to be on top of my dick,” he nodded at his guitar. Then he looked at you and lifted one thick brow. “And that’s where you need to be.”

He then made quick work of adjusting the strap to where the body of the instrument would sit against his stomach rather than where it usually rested.

He looped the strap over his head when he finished. The sight was unusual. You’d never seen the Les Paul rest so high on his body.

He looked down, wrapped his hand around the neck and looked at you. His mouth lifted with a laugh, “This feels weird as fuck.”

You giggled with him, “Yeah, it’s definitely more ‘Lennon-esque’,” you swayed your hips as you walked towards him. “But you still make it look so sexy.”

You gave him one chaste kiss on the lips, taking only a minute to deepen it. When you pulled back, his lips were plump and looked so ready to be kissed again. But you denied the urge. You were ready to test the idea.

“Go plug in to the amp and lie down,” You wanted to be firm with him. Be in control. “I still have to tell you the song.”

He turned and picked up the small amp that stayed in the room. Once he had it situated at his side of the bed, he plugged his guitar into it. The sound of the feedback as it got plugged in made you push your thighs together. You saw him move his arm and strum a few chords from the back, his naked ass flexing slightly while he geared up the guitar.

It was a sight. It looked almost like normal. Almost how he always looked when he checked the sound of the instrument . . .though this time, clothes were exempt. You were glad this scene was for your eyes only. You didn’t ever want to share this version of him tuning it up with anyone else.

Once he felt it was good to go, he laid (mostly) down. He situated a couple of pillows behind his head to give him some sort of leverage.

When he’d gotten situated, you admired the sight. His guitar was laying across his body, while his erection was still fully present. The way it stood at attention in the air, the worn red body of the guitar right next to it . . . It was something so pornographic. You wanted the image sealed in your mind forever.

“I’m going to be honest,” you spoke, tearing your eyes away from him, wanting to keep some sort of composure. You walked to the Amazon Alexa you kept in the bedroom. “I couldn’t choose one song. So, I just went with a random one I’ve been wanting to hear you play again. It’s been a while.”

He blanched at that. “It’s been awhile?!” He sounded worried. “I kind of want to stand a chance at passing this little test of yours, sweetie.”

You raised a brow at him.

“Jacob Thomas, you can hear a song once and instantly know how to play it,” you checked to make sure the speaker was plugged in. “It’s not going to be a big deal for you. You know it. Don’t stress.”

“I don’t want to mess up and make you stop,” his eyes glazed over. “I love the way your mouth feels too much to lose it. I wanna be good for you, baby.”

Your clit fluttered at that. He wanted to be good for you.

“Then be a good boy and tune your guitar again. You don’t want to know the consequences if it’s even slightly out of tune,” you turned on the lamp at his bedside, the dark room needed some sort of light. Daytime was fading, rain still ticking against the window. “Don’t worry about the song until it starts playing.”

He went about his tuning and mid-strum, he suddenly questioned, “Why are you making Alexa play the song if I’m going to be the one actually playing it?”

“The speaker will help to keep me aware of any possible mistakes,” you tapped it and then pointed at your mouth. “I’m going to be a little preoccupied to only rely on memory. My brain goes a little fuzzy when I. . .”

He swallowed thickly, blinked a couple times and nodded. “Makes sense.”

You watched him go along with his tuning and decided to have another little practice. You sauntered over to him, and sat down on the edge of the bed, next to his leg.

He didn’t look up from what he was doing until he heard you spit in your hand.

You placed your wet hand around his thick shaft, you gave it a couple of pumps. You looked him in the eyes, testing him. He knew if he stopped doing what he’d been doing that you would stop. He knew exactly what this was. And he wasn’t going to mess it up like he had before.

You let your slick thumb rub in the crease at the base of his pretty pink head. You then took the precum from before (and the extra that had gathered since), and rubbed it from the slit of the head all the way around the head.

You glanced up to see his face and the sight was beautiful. There was already a slight sheen of sweat forming at his hairline. He was working so hard for you. And then—.

There was one slight twang of a string. You took your hand away.

He moaned. “You can’t. . .it was just a little—.”

“Gotta do better next time, baby,” you got up from your spot. “Is the guitar about ready?”

He gave the smallest glare. Then he reached up, using the back of his hand to wipe at his forehead. He placed his fingers on the correct frets and played the beginning of ‘Highway Tune’ to test out the sound.

His face was concentrated, looking down to see his fingers go. You watched, too. And besides his fingers going crazy, the music was obviously flawless. Holy shit. You weren’t sure you were going to survive this. You were sweating, flushed, and your thighs felt wet from being clenched around your core.

What were you going to do if you got distracted by him and stopped going when he was doing perfectly fine? You would lose all of your high-standing in the situation and you’d simply look like a loser.

The competitive streak suddenly came to life inside your chest. Your heart started beating so fast.

Or, you noticed how fast your heart had been beating all along.

“Okay, stop,” you said firmly. “You miss one little strum, even the smallest string of a note, I stop. Got it?”

His brown eyes were unaware of your inner conflict and were doe-like as he nodded to agree. He wanted to be good.

“Alexa, play—.”

“Wait,” his voice was frantic. “Is it the entire guitar part or just a solo I’m playing?”

Before you spoke, Alexa’s monotone voice did. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

You rolled your eyes at the device. “Alexa, stop,” you surveyed him. You hadn’t thought so specifically. So, you thought on the spot. “Anytime you hear a guitar playing, you play.”

“Rhythm or lead?”

Damn, good questions. These were things you really hadn’t thought of initially. You‘d just thought of the grand scheme. And, while you both loved music, he was the guitar player. It technically was his job to help remind you of these things. You would be lying if you said it wasn’t slightly embarrassing in this situation.

But, you kept your cool. You tried not to think of the little holes you’d left in the plan.

“Lead.”

He nodded, then cast his gaze down to look upon his guitar. His fingers tapped against the body, waiting patiently. And, like a pro, his tanned cock continued to stand at attention.

“Be ready,” you warned. He visibly gulped. You made your way to the bed, combing a hand through the front of your hair, tucking a piece behind your ear. “Alexa,” you situated yourself between his legs, ass in the air. You knew your body drove him crazy, so you’d use it. “Play ‘Something’ by The Beatles.”

You let the sexy act go, and peeked up at him. He was already gazing so lovingly towards you. You two lazed grins towards each other. As though you were sharing a secret.

Back when you’d started dating, this song seemed to play everywhere you two would go. And so, it had gotten deemed special for the two of you, by the two of you.

It was really silly, but you two had been kids then. Thinking up something for everything.

“Playing ‘Something’ by The Beatles.”

While she repeated what you said, he placed his fingers in position. And without even knowing what it was supposed to look like, you knew he was right. You already felt a little wetness gather at your center, simply for how gifted and intellectual Jake was — especially with his craft.

Right before it had begun, you sunk your mouth down over his tip. The taste of him was what your mind latched onto. He always tasted so sweet. You felt his body shiver. His legs shook on either side of you.

“Baby. . .” He sighed.

And when the guitar started, you closed your eyes to bask in the beautiful melodies Jake was already matching. He moaned and whined a few times here and there as you continued to flex your mouth over the top of him, but other than that, he was focused. He was magic.

You moved your mouth off of the top of him and then let your tongue lavish around the base of his cock. You licked it in long horizontal and vertical stripes, making a pattern of it. You occasionally went back to the top to give it proper attention.

And once you’d made his skin glisten with the work of your mouth, you placed your hand on his base. Letting your hand do some work while you watched him play.

The way his face would change as he played was so like the way it would on stage while playing, but this time, there were little whimpers that accompanied the faces he made. You knew the faces were not only meant for the guitar in this moment, he was reacting to you more than anything now.

His fingers moved in precise motion, the veins in his hand showing as it flexed around the neck of the guitar.

He still hadn’t missed a chord. Damn. As if you needed to be reminded of just how incredible Jake was.

You licked around the slit at his tip and then licked in the crease just below the head, where your thumb had been earlier. You loved this spot on him, almost hidden between the head and length of him.

You took the top half of him into your mouth, bobbing your head slowly up and down while also letting your tongue swirl in and around your favorite spot.

You let extra saliva leak from your mouth, right before you hollowed your cheeks out. You then brought a hand to his shaft and stroked it liberally, grateful for the lubricant you’d provided. It was so slick to the touch, your hand glided perfectly.

He breathed a combined whimper and moan when you added one more hand to the mix, grasping his balls. You rolled his sac in your hand. So fucking smooth.

You decided to massage his balls, giving them attention. With all of these actions combined, one chord stayed slightly longer than it should have. But you pretended not to notice. You were too engaged with your own activity at hand.

You started humming the melody as you swallowed as much of him as you could. He whined at the new vibrations that only added to the present pleasure.

Meanwhile, you generously stroked at him, but added just the slightest squeeze. His hips bucked as both of your hands continued their work, while your mouth sucked at him. You tightened your jaw and your lips went taut as you gave him one especially tight suck.

Your mouth sounded like a little ‘pop!’ as you came off of his tip.

His breath seethed through his teeth. But he was a natural born rockstar, and played seamlessly through the hurdles thrown his way during a performance. The current hurdles being your mouth and hands.

The guitar solo was close. You couldn’t lose focus before then and you had to do your part to keep him steady. You had to stay consistent in your movements to keep his stamina going.

You grasped at his shaft, but realized it was becoming dry. So, right before it was time for the solo to start, you brought your head up.

You gathered as much saliva as you could, and made sudden eye contact with him as you spit (drooled) it all onto his throbbing length.

Your center was aching.

His mouth fell open and you kept your eyes on his as the solo began and you moved your mouth around him. Your hand moved in the places your mouth couldn’t quite reach. Your movements went along to the rhythm of the music. You knew it like the back of your hand, making it one big—.

And his finger slipped off the string, right at the end of the solo.

You sat up, deciding that was a big enough error to hold to your word.

But, his eyes held such disappointment and guilt and longing . . . You felt for him. He never stopped playing, even as you stopped your efforts. He kept going.

He’d also made it through almost the entire song, holding up his end of the plan so damn well.

And his cock was just so pretty, standing up straight, waiting for more.

You realized you just couldn’t hold to your word like you’d wanted to.

Though, you did give his thigh a hard smack, and bit down on the flesh right on the inside of his thigh. So close to his most sensitive area.

“Shit,” he hissed through his teeth. “Won’t do it again,” he continued to play relentlessly. “Just so hot, babe.”

The flawless music he continued to make rushed through your ears. You knew the song was almost over, so you looped one of your legs around one of his. You moved it between your thighs to be in the right spot for satisfying friction and grinded down on it hard.

“Oh,” his mouth was held in an ‘o’ shape at the feeling of you, wetting his leg with your arousal. It was the same big ‘o’ his mouth tended to make during a normal guitar solo.

Fitting.

“You like that, baby?”

His eyebrows drew together, nodding.

You hadn’t taken the time until that moment to realize how sweaty he’d become. His forehead glistened, as did his nose and chest. The sweat dripped down from the middle of his pecs to the top of his tummy.

Your mouth watered.

His eyes stayed glued to the guitar, focus driven. His fingers moved expertly along the strings, finishing the song as if he had helped George Harrison write the song himself.

You finally stopped your movements, wanting to admire the man beneath you.

But he didn’t give you much time.

As carefully as he could manage, Jake slipped through the strap of the guitar, depositing it against the bedside table. And as soon as he was free of the constrictions from the instrument and your game, he took his control back.

And you gladly let him. Almost.

He grabbed your ass, still sitting atop his thigh. But you moved his hands to resituate yourself. You climbed off of him, only to slip your legs to be knelt on either side of his abdomen.

But Jake wrapped his arm around your waist and switched positions before you could even breathe. He wanted you below him. His chest was heaving as his swollen cock rested on your upper thigh.

Before anything else transpired, he got down on his forearms. He nudged your nose with his affectionately and captured your lips in a full kiss. There was barely any tongue, but his plush lips latched securely with yours. Puzzle pieces.

“I love you,” he whispered when he pulled away.

“I love you,” you sighed back to him.

He ran his throbbing cock through your folds. Your body vibrated at the feeling. Then, he took it away.

Sparing no time, he pushed in, sinking into you. Another puzzle piece.

Having just gotten him back from tour, you were still readjusting to the feeling of his girth. But when he started moving, home was found and you moved your hips in time with his.

You knew neither of you were going to last long, but making love seemed priority to you both.

“Not a complicated song,” he huffed between thrusts. “But dammit if it was the most diffi—,” he slammed hard, making you both grunt at the motion. “. . .Most difficult with you doing all of that.”

You blushed, looking up to him. He was looking down to where your bodies were connecting. “Mission accomplished.”

He snapped his eyes back to you, “Mission enjoyed.” He winked at you, a suggestive smirk marking his lips.

There wasn’t any more talking as he rounded his hips a few more times. He never let himself fully leave your center, obviously wanting to drive you to the edge.

It wouldn’t be hard.

One, being Jake Kiszka’s girlfriend, was a constant loop of being on edge for the man. And two, with everything that you’d taken part in together that day, you’d been ready to release for a while. But this was the moment you’d wanted most.

You’d wanted it with him. This connection. It was arguably what you missed most while he was away. These intimate moments, wrapped in time, for only you both.

His hair was so long, it draped around your head like a curtain. You felt every single inch of him as he bucked into you, hearing the sounds your bodies made together.

You moaned outright, “Jake,” your voice was husky. Your pussy clenched. You felt it coming.

“Fuck, baby. I know,” his hips crashed to meet yours, the tip of him connecting to your g-spot.

You whined loud, letting out gasps of encouragement and his name.

Finally, your eyes met his, deep brown, and you held contact like that. You felt the entire world in his eyes. You lifted one hand to wrap at the base of his neck, under his hair, and left one to rest on his shoulder blade. His skin was completely tacky with sweat. Your bodies were vigorously moving to meet each other now.

He stuck his thumb in his mouth, completely wetting it. And then, he slipped a hand between you, rubbing gentle circles on, around, and underneath your throbbing bud.

After a few uneven thrusts, his body started to falter more in its ministrations.

“I’m—,” he started.

“Me too,” you gasped.

His thrusts still guided you, and his thumb nudged just right against you. Everything you felt and saw was him. You shuddered as you hit your peak, your body stiffening. You threw your head back against the pillows. Your core was throbbing at the sensations.

Then, he pushed in one more time, his sticky stomach meeting yours. He whimpered, and you could feel him spill inside of you. All of him.

He stayed where he was for a second, his dick still pulsating inside of your walls.

Then, he slipped out of you, going quickly to get a towel to clean the mess he’d helped to create. Once you were cleaned up, he laid his head to your chest, totally spent.

His breath was warm against your breast. You combed your hand through his now-knotted hair. This was right.

You gazed down at him, his long hair swept across your stomach. Your heart pressed to your chest. You missed him.

When summer came and school let out, you would have to rethink not joining him on tour. You couldn’t take being away from him for so long. These moments were everything.

“What do you think about joining the guys and me this summer, hm?” His fingers were tracing shapes into your hip.

You grinned, braiding a few pieces of his hair when you responded, “You know, I just might have to.”

#jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fic #greta van fleet fic #jake kiszka fan fic #gvf fic #jake kiszka #jake fic #my fics

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kaipeachyscorner · 9 months

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I Promise You

Han Jisung x GN! Reader

It’s a comfort fic. A mix of fluff and angst? Not sure how to describe it. I just want Han to hold me like this and tell me everything will be okay. 🥲

Warnings: Nightmare mentions, pet name use (Sweetheart)

Jisung was awaken by a small whimper beside him. He was confused when he opened his eyes, realizing it was still dark, but also because he couldn’t feel his lover in his arms. He groaned a little and rolled over to reach for (Y/N).

He found them, however, they were in a cold sweat. Their limbs were tangled in the sheets and whimpers that were broken up by sobs and the occasional word or two escaped their lips

Suddenly awake, Jisung leaned over and cupped their face to assess the situation, soon realizing the reason for their distress

Nightmare.

Jisung quickly pulled them into his chest and circled his arms around them. One hand cradled their head while the other traced shapes onto (Y/N)’s arm. In their sleep, they instinctively clung to the fabric of Jisung’s shirt in order to ease the turmoil in their mind.

He placed kiss after sweet kiss to the crown of their head, hoping to cease their shaking.

“Shhh it’s alright (Y/N). It’s okay. You’re ok.”

He mumbled comforting words into their hair. (Y/N)’s breathing had just begun to even out, and the shaking was beginning to slow. It pained Jisung to see them like this. It was one of the rare moments of fear he had witnessed during their time of being together. They had always been there to comfort and shield him from the world in his own vulnerable moments. It was his time to return the favour.

“That’s it. I’ve got you, sweetheart. It’s gonna be okay, I promise.”

Jisung continued his actions while humming a new track he had been working. He rubbed their arm and caressed their hair, just barely swaying back and forth in their shared bed.

(Y/N) soon loosened their grip on his shirt and was lulled into peaceful, dreamless slumber. Jisung, on the other hand, never lessened his hold on them, wanting to ensure they felt just as safe as they made him him feel. He stayed awake for a few more minutes, making sure (Y/N) would not have another nightmare. Once he was content, he placed one more kiss to their forehead before returning to sleep himself.

“I love you so much, sweetheart. I’ll always be here to protect you, no matter what. I promise you.”

I hope you liked it <3

#stray kids #han jisung #skz #straykids x reader #stray kids fic #han jisung fic #han jisung x reader #x y/n #comfort #comfort fic #nightmare comfort #stray kids fluff #slight angst

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inurecity · 6 months

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Exhausted

Hey!! This is my first ever fanfic I’ve written,, I’m extremely sorry about any mistakes I made </3

I struggled to capture Soap’s accent in this; I hope you all won’t mind!! He’s an American for the time being 🥲

Minor Warning: Shitty spelling/grammar mistakes, most of it is fluff though 💕

This is also pretty short!! If this writing seems to be well received, I may add on to it or make more chapters :)

Please let me know if you have any suggestions for future fanfics, I love to write and I love my 141 and KorTak babies even more <3

The mission went swimmingly. No casualties (on their side, anyways), little to none injuries. A miracle, honestly—the task forces assigned were biting off way more than they could chew. As Simon Riley, or “Ghost��, heaved his weight onto the back of the truck, the yells of what he assumed to be of Price’s echoed around the area. Close behind followed John “Soap” Mactavish, who plopped himself right next to where Ghost had chosen to sit.

With a cocky smirk spread across his face, Soap leaned his body weight against Ghost. “Heard you roughed ‘em up pretty good, LT.” He slid his hand along Ghost’s shoulder, hugging him closer.

Ghost let out a grumble, shoving him off of his body. “Heard you got fucked yourself. How’s the arm?” He returned the smirk (which Soap could just barely make out with the balaclava Ghost was wearing covering it), poking Soap’s arm.

As Soap flinched away—and Ghost swears he heard a hiss as he did so—Price eyed them both from the opposite side of the truck. When had he gotten there? Ghost hadn’t realized. Weird.

“It’s just fine.” As Soap massaged where Ghost had touched him, Ghost took the chance to scoot farther away from him.

As the truck began its rocky pace back to HQ, Ghost (whom had previously snapped at Soap for falling asleep on him on the way back from a mission) couldn’t help but occasionally rest his eyes before he fully began to drift off onto the unsuspecting shoulder of Mactavish himself. He was spent, Price had put more weight than usual on him: assigning two god damn squads filled to the brim with militia. It was an easy win, obviously. That didn’t stop him from being exhausted by the end of it.

Soap, who had now began to realize Ghost’s proximity to him, cracked a smile, careful not to disturb the moment. He nudged his free arm in the direction of Gaz, who was sitting next to him, and the two shared a moment of pure excitement. It was shocking in itself that Ghost let his guard down enough to actually manage to drift off, but on someone else? Completely unheard of. Ghost, full of surprises to say the least, nuzzled his head into the crook in Soap’s neck, mumbling incoherent bullshit. Gaz (whom has been waiting to witness a moment like this) smiled innocently at Soap, batting his eyelashes. “Looks like you two finally got together, eh?”

This caught the attention of Price, who had been trying to ignore his.. well, children at this point, and he pulled his head up slightly to get a better view.

Soon after Ghost was fully asleep, Soap carefully placed his hand on top of his, eyes distant and longing. As much as he was enjoying this, he didn’t want their first time properly holding hands to be when Ghost was asleep. So, he retracted his own, the corners of his mouth twitching downwards.

Seeing what Soap had did, Gaz leaned in closer and hissed in his ear. “It’s not every day you get to hold his hand, ya? Go for it.” He smiled at Soap, holding eye contact for a second with an encouraging look in his eyes before shifting his attention back to the chaos going on in the other side of the truck.

With a flinch of awkwardness, Soap reached out again and laced his fingers with Ghost’s own. He knew Ghost’s hand would be limp, and that it wouldn’t be like the real thing, but he still felt beyond euphoric to do something so intimate with Ghost.

“I swear to god, if either of you tell him this happened, it’ll be the last thing you do.” He spread his pointed glare to Gaz and Price, whom agreed via a nod of the head and a knowing smile.

Throughout the ride, Soap had forgotten he was holding Ghost’s hand; he had been holding it for too long to not see it as natural.

But Ghost? He had woken up halfway through the ride, not moving a muscle. He kept his place on Soap’s neck, hearing the hum of his vocal cords as he talked with Gaz. He would never admit it, but the sound relaxed him; his hand laced with Soap’s even more so. Slowly but surely, he inched his fingers to close over Soap’s with a soft smile under his balaclava.

As the truck lurched to a stop, Soap looked down to both his and Ghost’s hands. He smiled to himself before loosening his fingers. Ghost, who realized what Soap was doing, huffed into the warm skin on Mactavish’s neck and squeezed his hand.

With a wide-eyed Soap staring at him, Ghost took the chance to stroke his thumb across his palm. “Ya gonna just sit there lookin’ pretty, or ya gonna hold my hand again, sergeant?” His voice was gruff from not talking for hours, the hum pressing into Soap’s neck.

With an excited side glance to Gaz, he tightened his grip on Ghost’s hand. “Jus’ keepin it warm for ya, LT.”

“Likewise.”

Thank you so much for reading!!

Typed this all out on my phone lol, sorry if it sounds lazy 💕

#john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #soap x ghost #ghost x soap #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #soap mw2 #soap cod #soapghost #ghostsoap #simon riley #john mactavish #cod mw2 #call of duty mw2 #mw2 #gaz #kyle gaz garrick #captain price #captain john price

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silent-sanctum · 11 months

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Anon didn't pm me for their preference 🥲 however because of a reply and my choice of "playing safe" because I don't know how the fandom responds to a/b/o in tumblr, I'll be doing this for now. But if this fic does well, then I have an alternative omegaverse ft. Jotaro in mind 😏

So for now, here's a short fluffy au with alpha joots 😊

Loving Me - Jotaro x Reader

word count: 1.2k

Being in a stable relationship with an alpha was honestly a bit complicated than it should be.

Considering Jotaro was one of the institute’s most sought out alpha with a literal group of omegas fawning after him, it was a genuine surprise a stoic man such as he would find interest in a mere beta instead of the other omegas available around him.

You thought about what made you attractive to him in the first place. It wasn’t that you didn’t like having him around, it was just strange. You liked talking with him ever since you got paired for a project, it continued even after it’s finished, and you grew more confident when the alpha didn’t mind your constant talking- paying attention to you even.

Sooner than you realize, he wanted to be close to you and knowing how nice he was beneath his bad boy façade, you liked getting close to him as well.

For the first few weeks, you had no issues being with him. You felt proud that you managed to get him to be your lover.

But you couldn’t deny that every time you hung out with your boyfriend, you’d begin to feel a bit insecure about it. Not about the relationship itself, but about yourself.

Every time he’d hold you close to him as he napped, you would fret about how you didn’t have a scent that could make his inner wolf satiated. Every second he would walk around with you by his side, you’d begin to worry if you were making him bored with mundane things or if you were embarrassing him in public for making a perfect example of an alpha date a beta.

Every time he’d make love to you, there was always that voice in the back of your mind thinking about how you didn’t have the basic omega instincts that would bond with his alpha on a deeper level.

Whenever he’d nuzzle into your neck where the scent gland should be, it broke your heart for you to hear his low growl or whimper when he couldn’t smell you.

You tried not to think about it too much, you really did but the longer you stayed with him, the more consistent the voices of doubt started to bother you.

It’s been a year now since you’ve first gotten together with Jotaro and today was your first anniversary with him. He offered to take you to the park where cherry blossoms were in bloom and who were you to say no to his offer?

As you had wanted, you and Jotaro had a lovely time strolling down the place, admiring the falling pink petals around you while you shared conversations with your boyfriend along the way. To your relief, he would glance at you from time to time with a smile, adding to the conversation when appropriate so it wouldn't be one-way.

Though when you two would rest under the shade of a tree, you’d see other alpha-omega couples having a good time, laughing and being in love, likely basking in each other’s scents. All you could do was huddle closer to him, hoping he’d notice your affections despite your lacks.

Then there were the single omegas who would stray a bit too close to the raven-haired when you went to buy you both something, trying to woo him when they couldn’t smell someone else’s scent on him. He’d decline them with a hard ‘no’, but it was still a gnawing feeling to be known as a non-omega with an alpha in a crowd of “standard” couples.

By the end of the day, you entered your apartment with your head bowed while Jotaro stepped inside after you.

Insecurity was such a bitch sometimes, giving you so much things to overthink about with images of Jotaro being with a proper omega who would know how to placate the alpha in him.

“Y/N? You’ve been quiet nowadays,” he said as he sat beside you on the bed. “Is something wrong?”

You shook your head, putting up a smile. “Nothing’s wrong… I just have a lot in my mind.”

“Tell me.” A hand covered yours laying between you two, his thumb caressing the skin. “And don’t lie.”

Where to start… “Be honest, do you…,” you started with hesitation, but he remained patient. “I mean… are you happy being with me?”

“Hm?”

“I mean look at us, you’re an ideal image of an alpha who can intimidate and overpower most people, while I’m just a beta living life the best that I can.”

“I don’t care what your secondary gender is,” he said. “The reason why I like you so much is because you’re able to stand up against my bullshit, all while being one of the most competent in your work field. Whether you’re an alpha, beta, or omega, I’d not care at the slightest.”

You felt your eyes tear up and nodded. What Jotaro said was true- you were one of the best in the team, able to take charge of any situation and lead groups of people, demonstrating assertion and control like how one would define an alpha, while still possessing a caring and nurturing instinct similar to that of an omega.

And you know your boyfriend wouldn’t be the type to lie. He was always forward about his thoughts. You were aware of all of these so why start overthinking all of a sudden?

“Ah really…” you chuckled, wiping the unshed tears off your eyes. “And here you said you were shit at consolation.”

Jotaro huffed, looking away. “I am, but it’s not like you were asking for professional levels of counseling-!”

You threw your arms around him in the middle of his sentence, nuzzling against his scent gland while he secured you close to him. “True. I always like you helping me like this. It’s nice.”

Drawing back, you cupped his cheeks and gazed at his shining aquamarine eyes and minuscule smile. “But it’s still a shame I can’t appreciate what your scent is.” You drew back with a pout. “I heard that it’s kind of a built-in perfume that does loads of things to their significant others, like easing one’s emotional distress.”

You sighed and laid your head on his shoulder. “I’d like that right now, basking in whatever your scent is.”

“I’ll do what I can to ease you in a different way… but I appreciate your ideas on what I smell like…”

You hummed, nearly purring as Jotaro caressed your waist. “Still loving the thought of you smelling like earth rain and sea breeze. Do you remember your thoughts about mine though?”

Your boyfriend pressed his nose close to your neck, mirroring your movements from seconds ago. “Deep down, I like to think you’d have a calming chamomile scent with hints of vanilla mixed in the middle.”

“You really have a preference for vanilla stuff, huh pup?”

“Stop calling me that,” Jotaro grumbled as his cheeks and ears grew a faint red.

“Do you really want me to though?” You leaned close to his ear and whispered, coy and full of intent. “Alpha?”

A satisfying growl escaped your lover’s throat and his hold on you tightened, nearly causing you to whimper. “Now you’re tempting me again.”

“Perhaps…” You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, bracketing your legs around his waist. “That was my intention?”

“You minx,” Jotaro said, leaning to hover his lips before yours.

You smirked, muttering a quiet “yours only” before closing the space between.

#jotaro x reader #jojos bizarre adventure #jotaro kujo #you know at first i was planning on extending this where the reader becomes an omega down the line #but then i came to the conclusion that having the reader love and accept themselves in the relationship is better than changing for others #and i do omegaverse smut as well dont worry tis but an appetizer hhhhhh

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dolli-is-me · 7 months

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hi dolli i’m back here again🥲 (anon who dreamt about my desires) i haven’t gotten into the void yet bit im trying to be as positive as i can be. last night i accidentally fell asleep without even affirming(i didn’t even realize i was asleep???) and when i woke up to try and affirm i just couldn’t go back to sleep😭

no good updates yet but do you mind i keep sharing my progress with you? i don’t want to spam you and be annoying

HIYA LOVE, WELCOME BACK

OMG OFCCC YOU CAN SHARE YOUR PROGRESS HERE OFC OFC

I don't mind at all! In fact I'd love to and I'll make sure to provide you with the best advices I ever had, don't worry at all love 💗

ANYWAYS STRAIGHT TO THE ANSWER:

I've heard many people say they had this problem, where they can't keep awake enough for the sleep state, and this is completely alright, I'll go ahead and list down some ways that will make sure you'll keep awake while letting your body sleep, don't worry at all love, you did everything alright and I'm sure you'll have a success story coming up the next time 💗,

List of things that would put you in a mind awake/body asleep state without letting you sleep or losing any energy:

1. Yoga nidra ( this by far helped me the absolute most, I used to use guided meditations before but now I kinda know it by heart so I don't need it to listen in order to get to that state, I understand this will put you in a yogic sleep, but listen here, in this state, you're body is extremely relaxed, no tension whatsoever, your subconscious mind will immediately accept anything, but remember, just like how pink stated, this isn't guaranteed to let you enter the void, it's just a method to help you relax yourself and your mind in order for you subconscious to pick up the affirmation you tell it, yet I highly recommend it)

2. Singing along to songs in your head ( another actual fun trick I've found, is to sing songs to yourself, this makes you lose focus on your body, and more on the lyrics, resulting in entering that state where the subconscious will adapt to anything you tell it)

3. Do it during the day (another actual amazing trick, change the routine, and make it in daytime, where you won't let your body sleep as Peacefully as it is, this methods works best for those who can't sleep unless it's dark and nighttime)

4. Change this into a lullaby x subconscious commanding method (the title explained it itself, if you still find problems for yourself, it's alright, don't need to wait for that sleep state, instead of forcing yourself to stay awake for the sleepy state, you'll force the sleep state to wait for you, in short, the moment you go to bed, until you feel you wanna sleep, affirm until you fall sleep, choosing the commanding method 💗)

However, do not beat yourself for falling asleep, do not let a wrong action of yours throw you down, even if it was accidental, because you, you are what you embody, you didn't do anything wrong, because no wrong action of yours will alter your 3d or concept

That's all I think, I only found these things that are helpful, but you can go ahead and alter anything you want! Remember, if you feel like you didn't do anything, or feel like it's not worth it, or if it's not working

That's not true at all love, the mere idea of you doing that method is enough proof for your subconscious that you are serious for entering the void

Remember, you're a master of your subconscious

Your subconscious is not your master

So bend it to your will, and it will have no other choice but to bend to your will, I suggest trusting yourself to the fullest

"Plant a thought, water it and let it bloom, feed it belief and faith, watch it bloom to your desires"

#dolli memories posts!#manifesting #void #void state #void challenge #subconciousmind #subconscious

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