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thexsilentxwordsmith · 1 month

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Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: Two personalities that clash, you and your lieutenant rarely get along, but when it comes to light that Lt. Riley has been messing with things behind the scenes of your life, what will happen when you confront him? Is it really hate that makes you stay in the argument the ensues...or is the tension a little too heavy to ignore?

Word Count: 7.5 k

Warnings:

Author's Note: I was planning on having more out this week, but storms here where I live have set me back a bit in getting things out due to power constantly going down. I'm behind, but I promise things are still coming. We have the steamy risking it without protection fic and the angsty Truth or Dare part 6 coming, so stay tuned!

Lt. Riley doesn’t really want to be here, stuck in the middle of the loud, crowded bar right off base on his night off and yet here he is amidst it all. Just wanted to, he will repeat if pushed for an answer as to why he’s come out and a part of him might even mean it, at least that is what he will try to convince himself of because he can’t accept that he knows it’s a lie.

A strong grip wrapped around his glass from his large hand, he brings his bourbon to his lips as those brown eyes scan the place from within the recesses of his thinner black balaclava that he wears when back in civility. His dark eyes are constantly on the move to disguise their true target, flitting from Soap to Garrick to whoever else is speaking around the small group of tables the taskforce has claimed for the evening only to dart back to one person: you.

He eyes you across the bar chatting up some bloke with mid length black hair and a prominent neck tattoo, smiling and giggling in what looks to be a lively conversation of shared interests and it makes his blood pressure rise until he can feel the heat in his face. Lucky for him that the mask conceals enough, only being pulled up from time to time for him to take a drink or grab a quick smoke.

For whatever reason you both have never really gotten along with one another, even from day one. There is something about your personalities that just does not mix, a tension that always leads to an argument. Maybe it is the similarities in your natures, maybe it is because you aren’t afraid to speak out where he is more subdued and calculated. Whatever the reason doesn’t matter, whenever you are in proximity it is like trying to force gasoline and fire to coexist in the same place without causing destruction. Sure, you can both be professional in the right setting, force yourselves to work together for a common goal as sergeant and lieutenant and you are good at it, but once the threat is gone and you are back on safe ground, the feud ramps right back up.

So it surprises you when the lieutenant immediately agrees to tag along tonight. He usually isn’t too keen on this type of rowdy fun, preferring quieter company, but over the past couple of months it seems like wherever it is you find yourself he is never too far away. It is a free country and he can do as he damn well please, even though it is obvious the way his stare keeps coming back to you.

He may have everyone else fooled, but not you, no. There is no mistaking the feeling you get whenever his gaze falls on you.

You have noticed it more and more in the past couple of weeks the way that somber glare subtly finds you when you are near. Clearly you are doing something right to piss him off and there is something euphoric about forcing his attention to constantly stick to you. Why not play it up? Maybe you like the idea of making him watch as you finally score.

You hope it makes him seethe to see you happy.

Those dark eyes stick to you for a couple hours until finally he has caught what he has been waiting for. He follows your form as you get up from your seat and make your way over towards the bathrooms. He can’t stop himself from taking the opportunity and before you have even let the bathroom door shut behind you, the lieutenant is already on his feet and drawing down his mask as he stalks towards the bastard you were just chatting up a second ago with only one goal in mind.

The same goal he has had for months now anytime you start to get too close to anyone.

Your mystery man has just brought the neck of his beer bottle up and put it to his lips when the shadow from the lieutenant’s large stature casts over the table he is still sitting at. As he looks up he is met with the most intimidating face he has ever seen staring right back at him. The firm stance mixed with the glare in the lieutenant’s eyes within the skull mask gives the man pause and the confidence he once had slips away as he struggles to find his voice.

“Can I help…?” the dark-haired man barely gets out before he is cut off as the lieutenant steps up to him.

“That bird you’re talkin’ to just a moment ago,” Lt. Riley says, his thick British accent deep and viciously harsh from the very first syllable; he’s only got a few minutes to get this done. “Ya best leave ‘er alone if ya know what’s good for ya.”

The man swallows hard trying not to choke as he is caught off-guard by the intense hostility that has seemingly come out of nowhere. “Dude, if she’s with you I’m sorry, I didn’t know. She’s the one that approached me, honest,” he chokes out his apologies, hoping that it will be enough not to get his face bashed in by this hulking specimen of a man.

Lt. Riley ignores his comment and leans down closer to his face, his stare sharp and cruel as he places a heavy hand on his shoulder. His fingers dig in hard until the man winces. “Don’t let me catch ya talkin’ to ‘er anymore tonight, got it? Cause if I gotta come over again you’re gonna wish I didn’t and by then it’ll be too fuckin’ late for ya. I’ll make sure ta put ya in the fuckin’ ground. Do ya understand?”

Eyes wide in fear, the man slowly nods; there is no need to be told twice, not from a man like this. He knows the type of guys that frequent the bar as the military base is not but a few minutes from here and he isn’t looking to get pulverized by a trained professional. A slight tremble in his hand, the man grabs his beer bottle and takes off into the bar with a worried look on his face.

Lt. Riley watches as the man hides himself behind a large group standing around the L-shaped bar near the bartender and a smug sense of satisfaction fills him as he heads back to his own table to finish his drink, content that once again he has succeeded in his mission. It’s not even a couple minutes that pass before the corner of his vision catches a familiar figure exiting the bathroom and heading back to the table he had just left from.

You return to your seat only to find your new friend nowhere to be found. Looking around, you second guess yourself that this isn’t where you are supposed to be, but this is your table; your rum and coke is still right where you had left it. You take your seat and pick up your drink; it’s possible that he had just scurried off somewhere and would be back any second. But as the time passes with no man in sight, frustration begins to wash over you as you realize that this shit is happening again.

It’s been months since you’ve been able to have your needs met by something other than your fingers and for some strange reason no matter how good things seem to be going, it ends in you getting ghosted. Why? Even the few times you’ve had encounters on base the guys you had flirted with for days suddenly go cold and avoid you like the plague.

Is there something wrong with me? you question yourself silently.

Across the way, Lt. Riley downs the last swig of bourbon in his glass, setting it back on the tabletop gently as he situates his mask back down. He doesn’t say a word or offer a goodbye, opting to silently slip out from his seat unnoticed to head outside with a smirk contorting his lips beneath the fabric covering his mouth.

He has gotten what he wanted…well, not all. There is still something else that eats away at him, a specter at the back of his mind, and even as he convinces himself that he is only doing this to make you mad it still lays there in waiting.

Back at your empty table, you finish your own drink and are about to call it a night when you spot your potential lover tucked away at the far end of the bar, hunched down in his seat. It’s odd the way he is sitting; it almost looks like he is trying to avoid being spotted, but that can’t be right, can it? Moving your way through the noisy crowd of people, you make it over to him.

“Thought I lost you,” you say cheerfully and watch him choke into his drink.

He coughs a few times before he is able to get it under control and speak. “Think I’m gonna call it a night,” he says. His response is quick and dismissive as he sets his bottle down and turns to leave, but you are determined to at least get some feedback as none of this is making sense.

You block his path with your stance and watch as his whole body tenses. “Did something happen? I thought we were having a nice time.”

The man uneasily looks around the area, searching for something that he ends up not being able to find, but that only alleviates some of the tension in his brows. “Look,” he says as he turns his attention back to you, “you’re really nice and all, but I’m not interested in getting my head caved in tonight, okay?”

Your cheerful expression falls. “What are you talking about?” you ask in confusion.

He takes a breath; he needs to get out of this conversation fast. “Some big masked guy came over while you were gone and threatened to put me in the ground if I didn’t leave you alone, so that’s what I’m going to do. Don’t know if he’s your ex or something, but I don’t want any part of that,” he confirms. “So, if you’ll excuse me I’m gonna get out of here before he comes back.”

You want to convince him to stay, that there is nothing going on that he needs to worry about, that it’s just your vindictive lieutenant trying to ruin your night, but the way he is shaken up you know there is no stopping him. All you can do is defeatedly watch him walk away as you say goodbye at any chance you had at getting laid tonight.

But this encounter isn’t completely useless; with his revelation things begin to add up now. All this time you thought it was you who scared off your potential lovers somehow, that there was something wrong with you that kept driving them away, but no. It is Lt. Riley who is going around threatening people to stay away from you, you are sure of it now.

And that makes you see red. What even is his endgame? Things have always been tense between you two, but this is going too far. You need to find out why and now because this is becoming unbearable. He has messed with your life long enough without your knowledge; tonight it is all going to end.

You turn your head back over to where the lieutenant had been seated and you spot his glass still sitting on the table. He couldn’t have left that long ago if his empty cup hasn’t even been cleared yet; if you leave right now and hurry, you probably will catch him. Quickly getting the bartender’s attention you pay your tab and immediately head out into the night ready to get your answers.

Each step makes your heartbeat pound a little faster the closer you get to base. Fueled by the uninhibited state you find yourself in from of the couple of drinks you had, you don’t want the moment to dissipate; you need your anger to power your words so that your lieutenant knows just how far over the line he has crossed.

You make it back on base and head in the direction of the barracks, passing by the dark offices and other buildings that are seemingly empty for the night. It’s late so there are not many places he can be and soon you can see them come into view. That is when you catch a figure leaning against the brick, the light from a cigarette glowing orange dimly in the shadow and you know you have him.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” you spit the venom-filled words to him as you come to stand at his side, arms crossing tightly across your chest as you stop.

The lieutenant ignores you, keeping his face straight ahead as he brings his cigarette up to his lips, ignoring your presence like you aren’t even there as he takes a long drag. The audacity he has to disregard you completely after all he’s been up to behind your back makes your blood boil over and you react fast. Instantly you reach out and rip the dwindling cig out of his fingers to flick it angrily to the ground; only then does he acknowledge your existence.

“Don’t know what your fuckin’ on ‘bout princess,” he grumbles as he pulls out the pack of smokes from his jeans pocket and takes out another cigarette, placing it in between his lips as he lights it up and takes a few short puffs to get it going.

Christ, did you fucking hate when he calls you that, all condescending and shit and he knows it too. That’s why he always uses it, just to watch the way it makes your skin prickle and your pulse race as it riles you up…just like it’s doing right now.

Your cheeks are burning red hot with your anger and you know by the feeling alone that it is visible even in the low light. “You know damn well what I’m talking about,” you accuse. “Thought you could ruin my fun and I would just never hear about it, did you? Well, guess what, I did. Guess you didn’t intimidate the guy back at the bar as good as you thought ‘cause he told me all about how you threatened him into staying away from me and now things around here are starting to make sense.”

So, pretty boy talked after all that scaring he had done; fucking hell, he wasn’t planning on being found out tonight. He can’t deal with this right now; he needs to get away before this gets out of hand. “I’m not doin’ this right now,” he mutters as he flicks away his second cigarette and begins to walk off.

You are right on his heels. “Don’t you fucking walk away from me,” you say as you quickly follow him as he takes off inside to a random room not far from the entrance. You barely register anything about the place, only caring about making sure you are on the right side of the door so he can’t lock you out until you’ve said your peace.

Slamming the door, you press your back up against it. There is nowhere for him to go, not with how you are blocking the exit and it is clear that you won’t be leaving. Goddammit, why tonight? The lieutenant isn’t drunk, but he still has enough liquor running through his veins and he is weary of being alone with you.

You aren’t going to let him be, though; your anger won’t let you. “Well, you got anything to say or are you going to stay silent like a fucking coward?” you ask pointedly.

His fist at his side clenches and unclenches to match his jaw beneath the mask. Gasoline and fire; he can’t stop himself from matching your energy. “Fine, ya wanna know the truth? It was me. You’re distractin’, sergeant,” he says, that heavily accented voice harsh with his assertions. “Throwin’ yourself ‘round like a bloody slag ‘tween the men here and at the bar. Ya like that? Being a cheap piece a meat? Ya think that’s a good look for your rank on this team, hmm?”

You shake your head with a forced incredulous laugh before turning your gaze back to him. The only person who is ever allowed to make decisions about your actions is you; whatever you choose to do or not do isn’t up for debate with any outside party. “What I do on my own time is none of your goddamn business. If I want to screw every member of this operation, I will. If I want to fuck a rando from the bar, so be it. It’s my choice and you need to stay out of it.”

It’s a lie, you have no intention of becoming some barracks bunny, but that doesn’t make the point any less true. There’s nothing wrong with a little companionship from time to time and you aren’t going to let him take that from you. This job is hard enough as it is. Still you can’t shake the question that is floating around in your head.

Why does he care so much to go to all this trouble? Why not just stay away?

The Lt. peers down his nose at you, those striking amber eyes looking at you through the opening in his balaclava to give him a dangerous appearance as they are cloaked in shadow. Standing in front this beast of a man has left many shaking in their boots, but not you, never you. Fuck him if he thinks this bit of intimidation is going to do anything; it’s not.

“It is my goddamn business,” he growls. “Ya talk a big fuckin’ game, but ya don’t know what the hell your doin’. Gonna get yourself in trouble one a these days.”

“Oh, so you’re just looking out for me is that it?” you ask. “I don’t need a savior. I can take care of myself, you know.”

Even he can’t deny that you can handle whatever it is that comes your way. He has worked beside you for quite a while now and there is a reason you were selected to this task force in the first place. No, it isn’t his need to protect that causes him to put himself where he doesn’t belong, but he can’t face the truth; he can’t…can he?

“Besides, what the hell do you care, Lt.?” you spit the question harshly into his face to break him out of his thoughts. “Just like to screw with my life as a part of some goddamn powerplay? You got nothing else better to do than fuck everything up? Pathetic, even for you.”

The lieutenant’s jaw shifts as his dark eyes are silhouetted within the confines of his mask silently stare back into your own. There is a glint in their depths, a catch of the light that makes them glisten as he locks your vision in that stoic glare.

“Watch your fuckin’ tone there, princess,” he warns as he moves in closer until the tips of your shoes are nearly touching. “You are playin’ with fire and if ya ain’t careful, you’re gonna get fuckin’ burned. Ya best quit it now or else.”

Taking your pointer finger, you lean forward and poke the tip of the digit directly onto his sternum over his t-shirt and push down. “Make me.”

Hearing those two deadly words come from your mouth while being this close with emotions this high makes his brain short-circuit and he scrambles to get control of the thoughts at the back of his mind; no, he can’t let them get out. For a split second you catch a flash of something in his gaze that gives you pause and leaves you with a strange but familiar sensation in the pit of your stomach before it is gone just as fast as it came on.

Flustered and confused, you don’t notice that his hand has moved from his side until it is wrapped around your wrist as he wrenches yours off his chest and smacks it against the door, pinning it there next to your head. “You’re on thin fuckin’ ice right now,” he threatens as he gets into your face. “Keep it up and see what happens.”

The lieutenant is so close now the sensation from the warm air leaving his mouth is felt against the lower half of your face even through the fabric of his mask. You can smell the bite from the tobacco and liquor as he exhales a weighty, ragged breath. There is a curious tension permeating the space now, filling the area around your bodies until your chest begins to ache with anticipation for something you can’t put into words.

What are you wanting to happen? You aren’t entirely sure you want to admit it, but still there is a growing impatience that makes your limbs tingle as you wait for the moment to break. “You’re not going to do shit,” you scoff. “I haven’t been touched in fucking months and it’s all your fault; you think I care about showing you respect? The way I see it, you have two options: either leave me the fuck alone or I make your life a waking nightmare until you do.”

Why aren’t you shoving him away? Your wrist is still gripped in his fist and yet you haven’t even tried to free it. Sure, your words are ruthless and heated, but you’re still here and he doesn’t understand what is happening. The atmosphere is shifting and he can feel it like a perplexing magnetism, a push and pull that he is finding harder and harder to fight off. He needs you to leave and quickly as he isn’t sure how long he can last under this growing torment.

“Ya best get out, now,” he growls under his breath. “It ain’t a good idea for you to be here anymore.”

His threat does little to make you back down and instead you tilt your head with a cocky smirk on your lips. “Why’s that? Can’t take the fact that someone can actually stand up to you?”

“Not that,” he says curtly.

“Then what?” you push him for the answer.

Lt. Riley stays closemouthed to your question. How the hell is supposed to answer that when your pulse is pounding through your veins and he can count the rapid beats through his palm that is around your wrist? He can’t do it, he can’t stop the way he craves the feeling of it.

The silence is heavy and dangerous, too much and you aren’t sure what is going to happen, but you can’t leave with nothing; one of the many questions you have has to get a response at least. “Fine, you don’t want to answer that one I’m not gonna make you, but if you want me to leave you are going to have to give me something. I’ll go back to my original question: why do you care about any of this?”

The lieutenant is suffocating on the strength of the tension shared between you. It’s intoxicating, more than the whiskey he’s consumed tonight. Try as he might, he can’t stop himself from wanting more and suddenly the fingers on his free hand are lightly grazing along the waistband of your jeans in that sliver of space between your shirt and your pants where just a millimeter of skin can connect with his touch. It’s too late for him now; he can’t let you go.

Your breath hitches and gets caught in your throat at the electricity of the contact. The longer his touch lingers on your body the more disoriented your thoughts become until you aren’t sure what is happening. You desperately want to slap him, shove him off and storm out, but a secret part of you that has started to glow like a tiny ember in your chest quietly begs for him to keep going.

Why can’t you tell him to stop?

“I can’t let anyone get to ya,” he murmurs with a labored inhale. “Don’t care what it costs.” Those hazel eyes with their blown out pupils never break the connection with yours as his fingers draw a line over your warm, soft skin and suddenly it’s near impossible to pull in enough air to keep you sane.

“Why?” you ask. “Hate to see me enjoying myself? Just want to keep me miserable, is that it?”

Those rough, thick fingers risk a bit more as they slip ever so slightly up so that his palm can rest against the meat of your hip and that’s where he stops. His gaze drifts down just a moment to admire how far his touch has gotten. This is the closest you both have ever been in the time you’ve known each other and it is overwhelming.

A shift in his stance, a half step in closer, his hand still resting against that soft, balmy flesh, and is that the pounding beat of your heart you hear pulsing in your ears? You need him to say something, anything, in hopes that it will break the spell that is making you more delirious by the minute.

“Say it!” you demand as you wrestle with the flood of sensations.

His eyes drift back to your face. “ ‘cause,” he says, that gruff, masculine voice making his words firm, “if I can’t fuckin’ ‘ave ya, then no one can.”

The confession knocks the wind from your lungs and you struggle to intake a breath. This has to be a new game he’s playing at; that’s it, a new tactic to make you lose your shit and destroy you in new ways. There’s no way he is serious, right? You study his gaze for any sign of deception, for him to crack and mock you for falling for it, but all that meets you is a fervent stare that makes your body burn.

“Fucking bastard,” you snarl as your resolve to break away from him slips silently away.

“Slag,” he responds.

A few seconds drag on into eternity as you stare back into those dark eyes, your heartbeats racing faster and faster with each labored breath you intake from one another. This isn’t how this is supposed to go, you are supposed to hate each other, but is that really what it is?

You’re the only one who has always treated him like a person, not some monster to be feared. It’s true you fight and bicker and drive each other mad at times, but not once have you ever backed down from him. You’re headstrong and steadfast in yourself and that is something he respects. And more than that, he desires.

His words, why do they sound so good? If it was anyone else you would have slapped them silly and told them to fuck off, but the way he covets you feels like ecstasy. You enjoyed his attention before and now that you have all of it, it’s all you could ever want. There is an ache in you now that can only be quenched one way and that is from him.

The adrenaline coursing through his veins blurs that thin line between hatred and desire until it no longer exists. As if another is piloting his body he cannot stop. All at once something snaps and before you can fully comprehend the action, he is shoving his body into yours as his hand wraps around your throat. A wall of massive, bulky muscle presses tightly into your curves, pinning you to the surface as he wrenches that god-forsaken mask above his lips and grabbing your face between his hands, those large, rough things that have more experience holding a weapon than something soft and tender within them, he meets your mouth with an insatiable intensity that sends your fucking head spiraling.

Things you’ve both buried deep rise to the surface as the dam breaks wide open, feelings that you both had suppressed under the guise of hatred because you couldn’t…no, you wouldn’t admit that maybe there was something there. It all comes pouring out into the kiss with a feverish urgency as you unsuccessfully scramble to contain them.

There is no restraining this fire of desire from catching you both ablaze.

Lt. Riley’s grip is strong, holding your head in place so there is nowhere for you to turn as the brunt of his need is forced upon your lips until they sting the harder he presses into you while the stumble along his jaw pricks your cheeks and the skin around your mouth. The taste of the bourbon that he had been imbibing all night is on his breath, crisp and sharp as it hits your tongue with its bite, but it does nothing to deter you from taking every ounce of his embrace and matching it with your own.

You want him tighter against you still and your hands run up the back of his head through the cropped bits of hair that have popped out from below the edge of his pulled up mask. The feeling of your fingers running through the short hairs near his neck as you bear down on his mouth make that hulking military man shudder and you sigh delightedly into him at the reaction.

Is it really that easy to make that big man fold? Oh, you are going to use that against him.

Strong fingertips jab themselves into your hip so that he can pull your pelvis flush against his while he shoves his boot between your feet to pry your legs apart, widening your stance so that he can fit his bulky thigh between them. The curve of your hip is accentuated by the position and he runs a heavy hand across the length of it as he pushes up against your pussy and you both gasp into each other’s mouths from the feeling.

That instant pressure against that gnawing ache in your clit has you grinding on his thigh. “Christ, Simon,” his name falls from your lips onto his while you cling to his neck to hold your body up as you push down on him as hard as you can to get enough friction through your clothing. He lets you have at it, using his leg however you see fit until you can feel the gathering moisture in the crotch of your panties.

“Do you even know how much I’ve fuckin’ wanted to do this?” he growls, the feral lust in his words palpable on your tastebuds as he shoves his tongue into your mouth past your lips to meet your own so that they can dance.

He has a taste for you now, a craving that cannot be quenched, an insatiable hunger that eats him alive. And he needs more.

Catching your bottom lip, he sucks it in between his teeth to give it a fierce nip that smarts, but you like the pain; it only makes you feel more alive as the aggressive nature of your attraction makes you feel like you are drowning.

“Fuck, need it now,” you demand desperately. “Where can we go?”

The question makes him pause and Simon pulls from your mouth to look over his shoulder before returning his attention to you. “Ya know where we are, dontcha?” he teases.

Your eyes drift from him and really look at your surroundings for the first time since you got in here; you are in a bedroom, not just a random room like you thought. There is a small chest of drawers beside a bed not far from where you stand and on top is laying that familiar hard shell skull mask.

You’re in his room.

“Shut up,” you breathe. “Just fuck me already, bastard.”

“So fuckin’ nasty,” he says with a smirk before he is back on your mouth again.

Coarse hands desperately paw at your clothes as softer ones claw at his, undoing buttons, pulling off shirts, shoving down pants; a flurry of lips caressing while limbs frantically move until both of you stand bare naked before each other. The last is his mask that he removes himself; he is about to be inside of, there is no need to hide from you anymore.

You barely have time to take in his striking features: that strong jaw accentuated with old, faded scars, that prominent nose, that stern brow, before two strong arms pick you up and carry you the few short steps to his bed, forcing you down and shoving you onto your back so that you are pressed down against the surface as he clambers on top with you. His hands part your legs like warm butter and he keeps them spread as he positions himself on his knees between your thighs.

Quickly he leans over to the short chest of drawers and flings open the bottom most one, reaches inside, and grabs a small, square packet. Holding it between his thumb and forefinger he brings it to his lips and grabs it with his teeth, shredding the top to pull out the rubber. He tosses the packaging to the floor and in one swift motion, slips the condom over the fat tip of his girthy cock and rolls it down the long shaft.

That is it, without another sound he sits back up and clenches his abdominal muscles while his strong fingers hold onto the meat of your hips as he makes sure he is aligned with your entrance. “Ready, princess?” he asks through short, quick breaths.

Your hands grip into his shoulder blades. “Stop fucking talking and get inside me,” you order aggressively.

The tip of his cock is prodding against your opening and you are panting with anticipation as you wait to feel it break through the threshold. It’s right there, right at the point you need it to be to give you the relief you’ve been seeking after the months of agony during your dry spell. Then all at once Simon’s hips rock forward and the head slips inside, stretching you wide open.

You gasp and buck your hips as he gathers the strength for another thrust to slip it in a little more; you are taking him so well. God, he could not ask for more. One more strong thrust and his cock rips into you deep until he reaches the base, bottoming out with a loud, guttural moan.

“N-nh… ah…” Simon groans as he twitches from the constriction around him. “Fuckin’ hell princess, your so tight…oh, f-fuck.”

Breathing through the intense feeling of being stuffed full you roll your hips into him to send shock waves of ecstasy through his shaft and his head falls forward to hang limply as he attempts to calm himself enough that he doesn’t blow his load right here and now just from that initial contact.

“Gimme a second,” he growls, but you shake your head.

“No,” you say, “waited too long for this.”

You will be the death of him and what a fucking sublime death it will be.

Fine, if you want fast and rough that is what you are going to fucking get. He holds on tight as he begins to pound into you hard, making you bounce with the force of his thrusts up and down as he takes you at this unyielding pace. You are anything but fragile and he uses that to his advantage to be as animalistic as he wants.

The longer he drills his cock into you in that relentless tempo the more lost in the feeling he gets until he is completely ravenous only for the sensation of your body. He has waited so long for this, dreamt endlessly of this, yearned in secret for months for this, and it feels exhilarating to finally have it.

His primal grunts fill the room the harder he gets and you are suddenly swept up in it all as your needs are finally being met. You lose yourself in the moment, whimpering and whining as the euphoria washes over your body to make your limbs tingle. Soon you are so loud that you are surely going to draw unwanted attention.

Reaching out his fingers find your lips and roughly he pries them apart so he can shove two of those thick digits inside your mouth. “Keep quiet,” he grunts as he continues to thrust. “Don’t need anyone hearin’ us before I’ve finished with ya.”

Getting you quiet, he needs something for himself and he knows just the thing. Leaning down over your body, his hot mouth latches on to the side of your throat just below your ear and you feel the sharp sting as his teeth dig into the supple flesh. The pressure is so hard from the suction of his lips you can almost feel the skin bubble up further into his mouth; there is no question that there will be a big, angry, purple blotch by tomorrow if he keeps at it. A token of who has claimed you.

And he is going to make sure it sticks.

It is a while before he unlatches his mouth and when he does he brings his lips up from your throat to your ear to fill your mind with only his voice as his hand finds the top of your pussy so that his finger can stroke over your clit. You’re gonna come and you’re gonna come hard if he has anything to do with it. “Look at ya, fallin’ apart just for me, princess. God, I wanna fuckin’ ruin ya.”

Simon pulls his fingers out of your mouth so that he can kiss your raw lips, making you swallow all his desperation until you are gasping for air. “I’d do whatever it takes just have ya all to myself,” he says, the words husky in his throat as he groans them into your mouth. “Need ya to belong to me and only me.”

Simon leaves your mouth to sit up higher, taking the pressure off his knees and pulling your body up slightly with him, and that’s when he catches a glimpse of your bodies at the point of their union and fuck is it a beautiful sight. The way he disappears inside of you is mesmerizing and he doesn’t want to look away, but he also needs you to see it. You need to know how both your bodies are made for each other.

His hand moves to the back of your neck and tilts your face down. “Look at how well your gorgeous body takes me. Do ya think anyone else can give ya this?”

Your dreamy gaze drifts lower between both of your bodies and stares at Simon’s imposing figure with his chiseled abdominal muscles as they contract and release with each thrust, his hips plowing into you, filling you up completely as each of his thrusts go down to the very base of his shaft. Your mind is in a daze as you feel him hit that sensitive bundle of nerves within you time and again before his shaft reappears covered more and more with your juices over the condom.

There is something so primal about watching his cock slip in and out of your tight body, watching as you slowly fall into oblivion.

His amber eyes catch yours and he smirks. Your cheeks are flushed bright and it thrills him to know that it is because of how he makes your body feel. “Fuckin’ hell, you’re a picture wrapped ‘round my cock like this,” he groans, his strokes becoming more sloppy as the slapping sounds of your overly wet cunt get louder.

The longer he thrusts the more his sanity wanes until there is not a single thought left except for the animalistic need to rut into you until he comes. You can see the change wash over his face and through his eyes and it only thrills you more as he becomes a hunter ready to catch his prey; it makes you shiver.

“Ya like the way my cock feels inside ya, dontcha?” he asks in a low growl. “Fillin’ ya full, stretchin’ ya out. Ya think anyone else can give it to ya like this? Ya think anyone else is gonna make ya come as hard as I’m gonna fuckin’ make ya? This pussy is gonna belong ta me after I’m done with it.”

Ragged, broken moans escape your lips while your hips rut up to meet him at the height of each thrust as his voice begins to push you over. Your hands around his shoulders tense and as he strikes into you again your nails dig in, raking across his back in angry red lines that tingle and burn as you drag them down over his muscles. Oh, you are definitely close.

“Ya gonna come for me, princess?” he teases mercilessly, desperately clinging to you as he too is about to spill and wanting you to go first. “Do it then. Come on my fuckin’ cock.”

The way this beast of a man is wrapped around your body, you are completely at his mercy, his size letting him do with you as he pleases and you have no say whatsoever. And yet here he is furiously pounding into you harder and harder as his fingertip strokes at your clit; he is doing his utmost to get you off even though he could leave you high and dry at any moment.

Never have you ever wanted someone to take away your power more than you want him to right now.

Your hands leave his body only to gather in the sheets, gripping them so tight you can hear threads popping and feel the strain on your fingers. Each slam of that throbbing cock into you causes the warmth to grow in your stomach, each second that passes the pressure gets stronger and stronger. Finally at long last, you fall completely silent and with a few more desperate thrusts that pressure is released and shoots through you white hot as you come hard and fast.

Simon continues to grind into your pussy through your whimpers as he lets himself go and within a few more seconds he too is falling over that ledge, his torso shuddering with the force of his orgasm as he pumps all that built up frustration into the tip of the condom inside you. His hips buck and are punctuated with deep groans until he has nothing left to release and he slowly comes to a stop, his hands rubbing up and down your thighs to help him catch his breath again.

You both stay locked that way as you calm yourselves back down from the high, your legs trembling around his waist, the sound of his inhales the only thing to break the quiet that falls over the room. Once he is able to he pulls out and falls down onto the bed beside you.

Moving onto your side, you look over at him with a smirk. “Well, shit, never would have expected that,” you mutter sleepily.

He turns his head to face you. “Is that right?” he asks in that low, gravely tone that sends a shiver down your spine. “As if you haven’t been flauntin’ yourself to keep my attention. Was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“Like you haven’t been undressing me with your eyes for months now,” you push back. “I’ve noticed the way you look at me.”

Reaching out his arm, his fingers lock into your hair, tying it into a ponytail in his grip before he gives it a strong tug. “Yeah well we’re gonna change that. Cause I wanna be the only person ya look at, princess,” he says harshly so you know he means business, “the only one that holds your attention, the only that gets ta be in your ‘ead. I’m gonna be the only one that gets between your legs and no one else; I wanna be the one that knows just how ta make ya fall apart. And any bastard that tries to get in my way is going to fuckin’ get it.”

You chuckle. “Possessive much,” you say snarkily only to receive a solid tug on your hair.

“Absolutely gonna be selfish with ya,” he returns as he brings your face in closer, “cause I would rather fuckin’ die than watch anyone else take this away from me.”

Pulling your head to him, Simon licks the smile from his lips before latching onto your mouth one last time. Maybe you two can find common ground after all…can’t be too mad at each other when you’re making each other orgasm.

965 notes · View notes

mypoisonedvine · 10 months

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𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 (part one) | neil lewis x reader

title comes from the song you already know by bombay bicycle club

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you've been best friends with neil basically your entire life, and secretly in love with him almost as long. will you ever find the courage to tell him the truth?

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 10k

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | smut, angst, pining/unrequited love - 18+ only

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | alcohol consumption, 'kid' as a petname, reader being kind of a femcel, jonathan being kind of mvp??

Neil had asked you to make sure the Thriller section was alphabetized; sometimes you thought he was just giving you tasks to look busy, but then again, you could probably use it since the employees of Gumshoe Video never looked very busy. You spent most of the day on the couches, watching whatever old bizarre gem Neil put on— sometimes you thought he only had employees other than himself so that he could pay people to sit here and watch this stuff with him.

But, the point is, you were sorting tapes. Because everyone needs their VHS thriller movies to be in perfect alphabetical order.

There actually was a customer in the store, for once, so it was better not to be on the couch anyhow. You hadn’t really noticed him when he came in, but as he wandered around the shelves, he seemed to drift towards you.

You tried to ignore him when he stopped right beside you— and kneeling to look at the lowest shelf, he towered over you— but when you stood up he got your attention.

"Need any help, sweetheart?" he asked, leaning in a little too close. "I'm kind of a movie buff."

He had a frat guy kind of look about him— polo, boat shoes, quaffed blonde hair. He could be good-looking, you thought, if he didn’t dress like a discount Abercrombie model… and if he didn’t hit on random women at the video store. "I actually work here," you corrected, barely looking up from your task. This is why we need uniforms instead of just dressing up to promote specials…

"Oh, really?" he smirked. "What made you wanna work in a place like this?"

"My best friend owns the place," you explained, "and I'm, you know… kind of a movie buff."

"Right," he said, not seeming convinced. "You like Kubrick?"

You rolled your eyes so hard you almost choked: Wow, what a deep cut. But you kept a straight-ish face when you looked at him. "Yeah, he's pretty good. Don't care for how he treats his actors, but he was certainly a visionary."

"What are your top five favorite Kubrick movies?"

You knew this guy was a tool, but you were still a bit shocked that he actually had the gall to quiz you. "Excuse me?" you scoffed incredulously.

"Can you even name five?" he asked, looking horribly proud of himself, and you straightened up as you glared at him.

"You're heterosexual, right?" you asked him, getting a confused nod. "Can you name five women you've made come?"

Neil watched the guy storm out, Lucien cringed a bit from behind the register— and Jonathan, not seeming as if he had been paying attention at all, kept laying across the couch and tossing a ball up in the air to catch and throw again.

“Okay, that’s gotta be the third this week,” Lucien groaned. “What are you saying to these guys?”

“Nothing worse than what they’re saying to me,” you assured with a frustrated, sarcastic smile.

“Listen, don’t get me wrong,” Neil began, “that guy totally deserved it— but maybe, you know… work on your demeanor with customers?”

“Wow,” you scoffed as you crossed your arms, “do you think I should smile more, too?”

“Wha— no!” Neil denied.

“Yes,” Lucien said at the same time, though he changed his answer with an awkward cough and mumble when you both shot him a look. “No, no— you’re good— you smile too much, even…”

“I don’t mean it like that,” Neil promised. “But I think half the guys that come here are just coming here to see you! Nobody even rents movies anymore.” He groaned a little, dropping his shoulders defeatedly. “Can’t you… tell them you’ll go out with them if they rent something?”

“What?!” you squeaked. “No!”

“Sales would double,” Lucien nodded.

“No,” you said again. “I’m not letting you pimp me out to sell tapes, Neil.”

“I just mean— maybe you don’t really go out with them,” he suggested. “Just… allude to the fact that you’re only interested in guys who…”

He trailed off as he searched around the shelves for a bit, smiling when he snagged a copy of The Maltese Falcon.

“— in guys who like The Maltese Falcon,” he grinned, “you know— for example. Then they rent it to impress you and we make a few bucks.”

“I am only interested in guys who like The Maltese Falcon,” you frowned, snatching the tape away and shoving it back on the shelf. “But that’s not the point.”

“Maybe you have to be more straightforward, you know,” Jonathan butted in as he sat up, “guys are dumb.”

“Yeah!” Neil agreed a little too easily.

“Just say something about how a massive VHS collection turns you on,” Lucien suggested, and you glared at him.

“Jesus!” you protested, but Neil tried to soothe you a bit.

"C'mon, kid, can't you just… flirt a little? Get our sales up?"

He'd started calling you kid since you two watched Casablanca together— which was especially stupid as you were both twelve at the time. At first you complained because he shouldn't be calling you kid with you both being kids; then you complained because neither of you were kids; and then you gave up. You still punched Lucien for trying to call you that once… you only barely let Neil get away with it anyways.

But you let Neil get away with a lot. It was a side effect of being secretly, but massively, in love with him.

It had been an issue since middle school— that was when the two of you became such good friends. Technically, you’d known each other since first grade (where you had shared your crayons, a true test of friendship at the time), and you’d sort of had a crush on him as early as elementary school (mainly because he was the only boy you could stand at the time), but it all kicked into high gear in seventh grade. That was when you became inseparable, when you got in trouble together, when you stayed up all night watching movies, when you went through all of life’s ups and downs together: you even went to prom together, platonically of course.

As for your feelings, you’d managed to hide them this long and still be his best friend, even when it sometimes felt like letting him stomp all over your heart without even trying. Honestly, the only thing harder than being in love with Neil was trying not to be in love with Neil: you adored his sense of humor, his generosity, his sensitivity— and he’d been there for you through the things you couldn’t have imagined surviving alone. That kinda stuff bonds you to somebody… and when that somebody has the most gorgeous eyes you’ve ever seen, it’s hard not to fall in love.

“Maybe I would flirt if I knew how,” you offered. “But I’m not exactly, you know, flirty.”

“How hard could it be?” Jonathan interjected. “Just, you know—”

You stared in quiet disbelief as Jonathan attempted to push his chest together with his arms. It wasn’t quite working, of course, and the rest of you watched on as he fumbled around trying to force some cleavage. “You look like an idiot,” you finally informed him after letting him do it for a minute.

“But is he wrong?” Lucien wondered.

“So, what, you guys really think that if I just went up to customers and—” you pushed your breasts together with your arms, accentuating them significantly in your tank top.

“That would work,” all three men asserted in unison before you could even finish.

“I fucking hate you guys,” you grumbled under your breath as you walked to the back, deciding to take your break in Neil’s office until these guys got their act together.

You never stayed gone for long, though— as idiotic as they could be, your friends were certainly charming. They won you back with a promise to let you pick what tape to put on, and the four of you ended up laying on the couches watching Roman Holiday.

When the movie was almost over, you rested your head on Neil’s shoulder; you guys did stuff like that, it was normal for you, but it always made your heart skip anyways.

This time, you were all hanging out at Jonathan’s primary workplace: the club. In fact, it was a much larger crowd than just you and the guys— plenty of your local friends and loyal supporters of Gumshoe Video, all sitting around a big table while someone’s mediocre cover band took the stage.

"So, uh, me and Denise broke up," Neil said suddenly, going back in for another swig of beer right after.

The others offered their mild shock and half-hearted condolences, but you knew it was going to happen— he'd told you before he did it. You tried to tell him that paying off a waiter to spill water on her was a weird way to prove what he already knew, but you couldn't disagree with his conclusion. She was definitely difficult, and shockingly judgemental for someone who managed to date a video store owner for this long.

“No, it’s fine, it’s fine,” he promised, “I don’t think anybody’s too surprised, right?”

There was an awkward hesitation among the group as they wondered if they should lie, or just fess up now that he was obviously accurate. You broke the silence to suggest someone go get another round of drinks for the table, and even though that was pretty much a one-man job, nearly everyone agreed and quickly shuffled off— leaving just you, Neil, and Lucien.

“I guess tonight’s your chance to meet somebody new, don’t you think?” Lucien suggested. “Get over Denise, you know.”

“I think I’m already over Denise,” Neil decided.

“And if I told you that girl back there,” Lucien returned, pointing with the hand still holding his drink, “has been looking over here at you for the past ten minutes?”

You glanced where Lucien was pointing as well, seeing a girl in a denim mini skirt and massive hoop earrings settle her eyes on Neil before looking away quickly with a lip-gloss lacquered smile.

“I think I need some help getting over Denise,” Neil agreed suddenly, patting Lucien on the back before he left the table.

You wanted to pout, but you were used to this— he was good-looking, he got a lot of attention from women in places like this… it usually didn’t work out for him, though. Certainly not never, probably more often than most guys, but… definitely not every time.

You tried not to look over too much, you didn’t want to get caught spying or, even worse, looking a little jealous— but you noticed that every time you looked over at them, Neil was talking. That was his problem, see: he never fucking shuts up. Guys, girls, anybody who will listen— if you admit to not knowing about his favorite fifty-year-old spaghetti western or the most recent pre-Code horror comedy he watched, he’ll gladly blab to you about it for ages. The first time you glanced at them, you saw her giving him doe eyes, laughing at something he said— and the last time, those eyes had glazed over and her laugh seemed more nervous and confused; you smirked to yourself. He’s still Neil…

“So, um,” you struck up a conversation with Lucien, “what about you? Anybody here catching your eye?”

“That’s actually the perfect descriptor of my type,” he replied. “Anybody.”

You snorted. “Then you should go, you know, talk to anybody?”

He shrugged and frowned a bit, and it was a simple movement but you understood completely.

The band started to play a new song, something upbeat and energetic, and you smiled. “Wanna dance with me?”

“Oh, I don’t think I’m drunk enough for that—” Lucien began to protest, but a minute later you were dragging him up by the stage. Neither of you were actually any good at dancing, mainly you were just kind of jumping and flailing around together, but it was fun and that was the point.

Eventually, more of your friends wandered in to join you; when the song ended, everyone clapped and cheered, the band bowing in gratitude. You only stole one more look over at Neil and his conversation partner, watching her interrupt his rant with a hand on his shoulder: your throat felt a little dry. You just hoped what she was saying was more like hey, my friends are leaving, I’ve gotta go and not hey, wanna come over to my place so you can keep explaining German expressionism to me?

Your heart dropped when he reached for her— what if he kissed her now? What if he wrapped her up under his arm and they walked out together? What if you had to spend the whole night thinking about him having sex with her?

“Hey, we should ask them if they know any Strokes songs!” Lucien suggested, tugging on your arm to get your attention, but your mind was elsewhere.

“Uh huh, yeah,” you mumbled blankly, and he frowned at you.

“What’s going on?” he asked, trying to look for what you were seeing; but Neil wasn’t reaching for her, he was lifting his hand to wave goodbye as she left. You beamed, even though you did feel a little bad when you saw Neil’s shoulders sink— it’s not that you wanted him to be alone forever, you were just relieved that you might have a few more moments to breathe before he got with somebody again.

“Nothing, sorry,” you answered Lucien, giving him your attention again. “What’d you say?”

“We should ask the band if they—”

And immediately, Lucien lost your focus as you couldn’t stop yourself from looking at Neil again— he was already looking at you, seeing you all on the dancefloor. You waved for him to join you, and he smiled as he made his way towards the stage. A new song began, even louder than the last, and you could blame that for not hearing Lucien’s question for the second time in a row.

Although he danced with you all for a few moments, Neil draped his arms over your and Lucien’s shoulders, nearly yelling to be heard over the music.

“You guys are coming over tonight for a movie, right?” he presumed. “Jonathan’s working ‘til late so he’s out, but—”

“Sorry, I’ve gotta be up early,” Lucien explained, “my brother and his wife are visiting, remember? We’re getting brunch and—”

“Whatever, party pooper,” Neil frowned, before suddenly smiling at you. “Guess it’s just me and you, huh, kid?”

You tried not to sigh too noticeably through your smile. “Yeah, me and you…” you agreed.

As you groggily blinked your eyes open, you found Neil staring at you, his face uncomfortably close to yours, with a big smile. “Mornin’, kid,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

You yelped and nearly jumped out of your skin while he laughed. “Jesus Christ, Neil!” you shouted, kicking off the blanket on you— and then you began to process where you were and why. “God,” you groaned as you held your head in your hands, while Neil kept laughing at you, “did I fall asleep on the couch again?”

It was sort of a rhetorical question— obviously you had, it would be much stranger if you woke up on the video store couch without having fallen asleep there. “Yeah,” he said, standing up and sighing a bit, “but you didn’t miss that much of the movie.”

“What happened at the end?” you asked, stretching your legs and snatching the blanket off the floor to fold up; Neil must have put it on you after you dozed off.

“No, we can finish it later,” he decided, walking up to the register, and you groaned.

“Seriously? Not even falling asleep gets me out of finishing The Man Who Laughs?”

He smiled a little as he started prepping the store for open. “Nope,” he said proudly, popping his lips on the p sound.

“It’s not that I didn’t like it,” you assured, getting up and trying to ignore the soreness in your back from sleeping on a ratty old sofa all night— you remembered helping Neil carry this thing from where he found it on the side of the road. Considering you knew where it came from, it was a wonder you ever sat on it, let alone slept on it… but this happened relatively often. Sometimes it almost felt like you slept easier here or at Neil’s apartment than your own.

You stood up and stretched your arms, sparing a glance over at him.

“Can I run home and change?” you asked, and he frowned.

“We open in ten minutes,” he noticed, “you won’t be back in time.”

“Yes, and who will serve the clamoring crowds that await our open outside?” you rolled your eyes, gesturing out the storefront to the abandoned sidewalk. “You can handle it on your own.”

“Just go to my place,” he shrugged, “it’s closer. And I think you left some jeans there anyway.”

Right— you’d borrowed a pair of his sweats to get comfy for a movie night, and forgot to take the jeans back when you left. You yourself had one of Neil’s short-sleeve button-ups at your place, when you’d both changed there for a costume party, but you let him believe it was just lost… it was too late to tell him now that you had it, ‘cause then he might ask why you kept it so long and then he might, somehow, deduce that you had been cuddling it at night from time to time…

“Right, okay,” you nodded, “but I still need a shirt.”

“Just borrow one of mine,” he said, like it was no big deal at all and didn’t make your heart skip.

For a second you wondered if you should protest— if he was still dating Denise, you probably would’ve said something. But you decided not to say anything, in case he changed his mind; you nearly bolted out of the store and down the two blocks to his apartment.

Your jeans were on the dresser, draped haphazardly in their same just-peeled-off shape you must have left them in last week. You grumbled to yourself a little about how he could’ve folded them for you so they wouldn’t be wrinkled… but then again, all his jeans were wrinkled, so he clearly didn’t know any better.

And now the fun part: picking a shirt. You smiled to yourself as you opened the drawer, perusing through t-shirts with old movie posters and semi-witty slogans… cute, sure, but those were pretty similar to what you already wore.

But the button-downs? Those were quintessential Neil, and you'd be wasting an opportunity if you didn't put one of those on.

You felt a little giddy as you opened the next drawer down and found them all folded. The first one you saw had light blue and white stripes, so you snatched it up and slipped it on.

The fit was definitely off, but you let yourself indulge in a fantasy for a moment: waking up here, in Neil's bed… in Neil's arms. You'd slip on his shirt while you went to find some breakfast, and he'd hum something about how pretty you look in his clothes, and you'd end up tangled in the sheets again not too much later.

Sighing to yourself, you buttoned the last button, leaving the two at the top undone so you didn't look too formal, and headed back to the store for opening.

Neil stared at you for a second when you walked in— at the shirt, specifically. You waited for him to say something, but he didn't. "What, should I not wear this one?" you asked, looking down at it as well, and he shook his head.

"No, no, it's fine— sorry," he mumbled, "just start sorting out last night's returns, please."

You definitely got a much stronger reaction from Jonathan, as soon as he walked in the door.

(Why was he here when he wasn't even working today? Who knows— he was just always here somehow.)

“Hey! You look even more like a lesbian than usual,” Jonathan greeted with a peppy fake-smile as he approached you, and you smirked a bit.

“Don’t blame me, it’s his shirt,” you nodded towards Neil.

“See, I told you you dress like a— wait,” Jonathan stopped mid-insult, looking back at you, then at Neil again, then at you; he pointed his fingers at each of you, crossing them back and forth. “Did… you two…?”

You narrowed your eyes, waiting for him to explain what he meant.

“Did you guys hook up?!” Jonathan accused, wide-eyed.

You felt your face getting warm, and you stammered out your denial; Neil started waving his hands in disagreement as well, but Jonathan was already on a roll.

“Oh my god!” he yelped. “The one time I miss movie night here and it gets freaky! Should’ve known better than to leave you two lovebirds alone—”

“Jonathan, we didn’t—” you choked.

“It’s not— it wasn’t—” Neil butted in. “She just borrowed my shirt! ‘Cause she— because—”

“I mean, we’ve kinda all been waiting for this to happen— but I never really thought it would,” Jonathan steamrolled along. “Well, yeah, I guess I thought it would, I just—”

“Wait wait wait, what?” Neil shook his head, stepping up closer to the two of you. “What does that mean?”

Finally, he seemed to get Jonathan’s attention, who began to nervously backtrack as both of you stared at him. “W-well, I just mean—” he started.

“And who’s ‘we all’?” Neil noticed. “This isn’t just you, thinking this?”

“I… I mean,” Jonathan scoffed, “you know— just, just some people… we thought that maybe… that since you two are so close, that you might—”

“Wow,” Neil chuckled, crossing his arms in disappointment. “You know, that’s so reductive. For a bunch of progressive, free-thinking hipsters—” he waved his hands as he said it in a mocking way— “you’re really just, like… like… you know, not! ‘Cause apparently men and women can’t really be friends?”

“No, come on, not like that,” Jonathan denied, “of course we can—”

“I mean, you’re her friend, you’re both single,” Neil noticed, gesturing between the two of you, “why don’t you two, just, you know… hook up!”

You cringed a little as Jonathan tugged at his collar nervously. “Well, I—”

“Come on, why not?” Neil went on, smiling at the suggestion even though he was clearly unamused. “I mean, she’s nice, she’s pretty, she’s got a vagina— why don’t you hit on her?”

“Hey, come on, Neil,” Jonathan sighed, “I’m well aware she’s got a vagina—”

“So what’s the problem?” Neil insisted. “Clearly you can’t just be friends with someone with a vagina—”

“I would really prefer if we didn’t talk about my vagina anymore,” you mumbled nervously.

“— how come you never hit on her, Jonny?” Neil pressed, backing him into a corner metaphorically— but also somewhat literally, he was leaning in and Jonathan was pressing his back more and more against the shelves.

“You really want me to answer that?” Jonathan replied, almost threatening. That made you furrow your brow a bit. It seemed like a rhetorical question, Neil trying to prove a point, but you didn’t expect Jonathan to have a literal answer.

“Yeah, sure,” Neil decided, “enlighten us.”

Neil glanced at you, like you were just as gung-ho about this interrogation, but you were feeling a little sick. You understood the spirit of Neil’s argument— and technically, you agreed with him— but it still stung to see him so incensed at the suggestion of you two together. You were trying not to take it personally, it wasn’t like he was disgusted by you or anything… he even said just now that you were pretty, and he’d told you that before, but… it still bothered you a little, for reasons you couldn’t quite describe and that you were sure were illogical.

“I never hit on her,” Jonathan answered, lowering his voice, “because I… I figured it would piss you off.”

That seemed to surprise you both, maybe for different reasons; you bit your lip to suppress a smile. Did Jonathan really think Neil was that protective over you? “Why would it piss me off?” Neil wondered, but he sounded a little defensive— defensive in a caught-red-handed sort of way.

“I… I don’t know,” Jonathan shrugged. “That’s just the vibe I got, okay? That she’s sorta… off-limits.”

Neil hesitated. “Well… she’s not,” he decided. “You’re grown-ups. Whatever you wanna do is none of my business— as long as you’re not being, you know, creepy or an asshole.”

“Of course,” Jonathan agreed, most of the tension settling as Neil backed up a step.

“Okay, well, ask her out then,” Neil instructed firmly.

“I didn’t say I wanted to!” Jonathan sputtered.

“Neil, Jesus!” you complained simultaneously, and he seemed to relent, shrugging as he walked back to the register.

“Sorry, sorry,” he dismissed, “just letting you know it’s… fine with me!”

You rolled your eyes a bit and looked back at Jonathan. “Sorry,” you offered him quietly, “he’s… I don’t know. He gets weird about that.”

“Oh really?” Jonathan scoffed sarcastically. “Didn’t notice.”

“The real reason you shouldn’t be hitting on me is because we’re coworkers, by the way,” you reminded him.

“Hey, I only work here part-time,” Jonathan noticed, “so I think that means it’s cool as long as we only go out part-time.”

You snorted, but he seemed to get nervous.

“You know I’m kidding, right?” he added quickly, and you nodded with a laugh.

"You know, I was thinking— we don't have many events at the store these days,” Neil mumbled around a bite of pretzel, watching you play your turn at Skee Ball. Normally he would put coins in the machine beside yours and try to beat your score, but the other machine was out of order and you decided to take a relay race approach. “What if we did, like, I don’t know… maybe a double feature for a couple bucks?”

“Neil, we show movies every night,” you sighed, “and we invite everybody, and ninety-nine percent of the time it’s just some combination of me, you, Jonathan, and Lucien.”

“Yeah, but this time we could do movies that more people like— a little easier to watch,” he suggested, “something that would get new people in the store.”

“New people don’t wanna sit on a musty old couch with strangers,” you reminded him, and he nodded as he chewed and swallowed his next bite.

“You’re right,” he agreed, holding the pretzel out towards you. “Wanna bite?”

You were trying to get through your skee balls pretty quick, so you just leaned your head over and chomped down on the end of one of the twists while he held it for you. You hummed in appreciation— it was pretty good, fresher than the last one you guys got here.

Visits to the arcade used to be your thing, back in high school (aside from watching movies, but that was a given). Then you slowed down with the trips, feeling a little old and out of place surrounded by kids— but the problem was, this place wasn’t filled with kids anymore. It hadn’t changed much at all since you were both in high school, and that was exactly the issue: it was old, run-down, a bit grimey… kids weren’t coming to arcades anymore anyways, they were all on the Internet apparently. So, while you and Neil sort of appreciated having the place to yourself, it also broke your heart knowing your old haunt couldn’t hold itself together forever… you two visited not just to recapture some old childhood joys, but to try to do your part to keep the business afloat.

You pretended to like being here— because you really did want to support the place, and Neil wanted to keep coming back— but it actually made you pretty fucking sad. Surrounded by all the neon, the noisy pinball machines, the Dig Dug machine that had a fifty-fifty chance of stealing your quarters, the photobooth (you still had some strips from that thing pinned to your wall, some so old that they’d faded from the sunlight that came in your window each day); it all felt sort of eerie now. You would’ve never known all those years ago how little this place would change, even though you never expected it to— you would’ve never known how little anything would change. Neil was still by your side, but still so far away… if you could talk to that fourteen-year-old girl now, you would warn her that no amount of time spent running around this place and playing Street Fighter was going to make Neil love her, or you.

But here you were anyways. “Woo!” you cheered when your final score came through: 50,765. “Beat that!”

Neil set the pretzel down on the bar-height table (on a pile of napkins, don’t worry, neither of you trusted those tables that much) and brushed the salt off his hands with a scoff. “Oh please, I can beat that with my eyes closed,” he assured as you crossed your arms.

As he put his quarters in and stepped up to the game, you smiled wide. “Alright, if you say so.”

You came up behind him and covered his eyes with your hands, making him jump and then laugh. “What are you doing?”

“Just keeping you honest,” you giggled, holding on tight even when he tried to move his head around so that he could see.

He did his best, usually struggling to even find where the balls were coming down more than rolling them decently— but after the first three went in the gutter without even scoring, you knew he didn’t stand a chance. He did score a few times, but when the buzzer went off and he lifted your hands from his eyes, he laughed at the pitiful 1,150 on the board.

“Ohh, that’s too bad,” you winced, “guess you’re just full of it.”

Still holding your hands away from his face, he spun around and twirled under your arms like you were dancing for a moment; it ended with him face-to-face with you, swinging your hands back and forth a bit to force you to twist with him slightly. “Wanna play Street Fighter next?” he suggested quickly. “I know I can beat you at that.”

The giddy joy of the moment dropped and shattered; if you thought about it too much, you probably could’ve cried right then. As pathetic, yet oddly aesthetically pleasing, as it would be to cry in an arcade, you swallowed down the emotion and smiled back at him. “Yeah, okay,” you agreed.

You’d been a little antsy all day— Neil seemed to notice, asking a couple times if you were okay, but you just nodded and shrugged it off. He had a sense for when you were lying; but that’s the thing, you weren’t lying, really. You just weren’t sure what to say. You weren’t sure if you should say anything. And yet, you felt a little guilty not telling him everything that was going on with you— not just guilty, but plain weird. Because you usually did tell him everything— except, you know, the thing— but you didn’t know if you should talk about this. Not that you couldn’t— but should you?

So you were sort of gnawing on your lip most of the day, keeping yourself busy with tallying late fees behind the desk, trying to keep conversation light and meaningless: thankfully, in that regard, Jonathan and Lucien made it pretty easy.

“Okay: fuck, marry, kill,” Jonathan began, “Dracula, the Mummy, and the Creature from the Black Lagoon.”

“Dude, I can’t answer that,” Lucien refused.

“Okay, then Neil, what would you do?” Jonathan changed his target.

“Um, well,” Neil pondered, “I think I’d have to kill Dracula— spare the world from that evil, you know— and I guess I’d marry the Mummy—”

“Freud would like to have a word,” Lucien butted in.

“And I’d fuck the Creature from the Black Lagoon,” he concluded, “out of morbid curiosity.”

You snorted, but didn’t look up from your clipboard. “You come up with one that Lucien will do,” Jonathan challenged Neil.

“Alright, uhh, let’s see…” Neil stalled as he thought, looking up at the ceiling and stroking his chin dramatically. “Fuck, marry, kill: Sarah Carter, Ripley, and Trinity from Matrix.”

“Okay, see, that’s a real challenge,” Lucien affirmed. “If I marry Trinity, do I have to live in the post-apocalyptic wasteland or can she live here?”

“You’d have to live in the Matrix,” Jonathan announced, like it was obvious.

“Hm,” Lucien pondered, “do I know it’s a false reality? Does she know?”

“She knows, you don’t,” Neil decided.

“Is she gonna tell me? What if she has another guy on the side in the real world?”

“Okay, you’re overthinking this,” Jonathan groaned.

“And is this the Sarah Carter that’s already had John? ‘Cause if not, I can’t kill her, or the human revolution stands no chance— but if she has him, I can’t marry her, ‘cause I’m not ready to be a stepfather—”

“You’re useless,” Jonathan informed him flatly.

“Well, it’s easy then,” you offered, still tallying fees on the printed table. “You fuck Carter, marry Ripley and kill Trinity.”

“Yeah, I guess that works,” Lucien shrugged.

“If you’re so good at this game, you should play,” Jonathan decided. You looked up from your work for once, finding Lucien looking excited at the idea and Neil looking a little nervous but intrigued.

“I’ve got one for you,” Lucien decided, looking concerningly smug. “Fuck, marry, kill: the three of us.”

Jonathan let out a giddy ‘ooh’ and Neil raised his eyebrows. “Oh— I don’t know— that’s too weird,” you shook your head, “it’s different, you’re real—”

“Wait, wait,” Neil interrupted, “now I wanna know.”

You froze for a second, wondering if you should double down on not participating, or if you should tell him the first thing that popped in your head: am I allowed to do all three to you?

Instead, you set the clipboard down and crossed your legs, and the men seemed to straighten up as they prepared for your answer. “Alright,” you said, looking at them for a lingering moment before sighing. “I think I’d fuck Jonathan, and then kill myself.”

“Yes,” Jonathan hissed, shaking his fist triumphantly.

“Dude, really?” Lucien snapped at him. “That didn’t sound like a compliment to me.”

“Don’t care, I stopped listening after ‘fuck Jonathan’,” he replied. “Alright, Neil, you’re gonna have to make good on that ‘she’s not off-limits’ promise you made to me—”

But Neil wasn’t listening to Jonathan, he was still looking at you. “Wait— you wouldn’t marry me?” Neil interrupted, putting a hand on the desk and leaning in a bit closer— he looked half-amused and half-offended, and your heart skipped a beat.

“Um…” you started to wonder how to defend yourself from that. What did he expect you to say? Yes, I’d marry you, I’ve actually been planning our wedding since junior year.

“Hold on,” Lucien stopped you, “if she fucks you and marries you, that means I’m getting killed!”

“Yeah, so?” Jonathan smirked.

“What, you don’t think I’m marriage material?” Neil laughed… but he didn’t seem like he was really joking, per se. He didn’t seem serious either, of course, but you decided to take his question seriously since he’d dared to ask it twice.

“Well,” you mumbled, “no. I don’t.”

Then he seemed a bit more serious, adjusting his posture a bit. “Why not?”

“I mean… you’re my best friend,” you reminded him, “but… you’re not reliable.”

He nodded, pursing his lips together.

“You’re not ready for marriage,” you continued. “I mean, I think you’re just as sure of that as I am.”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“And honestly? You’re a great friend and all, but… if you were my husband, I don’t think I could really… you know, trust you…”

The silence seemed a little heavy— all the men were sort of frozen for a second, you wondered if you should wave your arm around to make sure time hadn’t stopped. But they did move, Neil first in fact, as he stopped leaning on the counter and nodded a little.

“I’m just surprised that you didn’t fuck Dracula,” Jonathan said to Neil in an attempt to cut the tension, “considering your massive man-crush on Bela Lugosi.”

“Hey, that reminds me, tonight’s movie is Bela Lugosi Meets a Brooklyn Gorilla,” Neil announced, apparently shaking off whatever odd energy he’d picked up just before, “you in?”

“Yeah, sure,” Jonathan nodded, “should I bring drinks?”

“Uhh, yeah, why not?” Neil agreed.

“Is a six-pack enough?”

"Uh, maybe…” Neil considered, turning over his shoulder to look at you. “Kid, how many beers are you gonna want?”

You swallowed nervously. “Um, I… well, I’m not coming. I’ve got a date, actually.”

Of course it was just assumed that you would be there; you felt a little guilty admitting you wouldn’t, to the point that you almost considered just skipping said date and staying to avoid the awkwardness.

“Hey, great!” Jonathan said proudly, throwing his arms out wide.

“A date, huh?” Neil noticed, looking happily surprised. “Sorry, I— I didn’t know— you didn’t say anything—”

“No, it’s cool,” you shook your head, “it’s kind of a last minute thing… you know how they’re showing Rope at the Palace tonight? I met this, um, this guy the other day and we got to talking, and I asked him if he’d wanna come with me.”

“Rope, wow, that’s a great first date movie,” Neil nodded approvingly, “that sounds perfect.”

“Yeah— he hasn’t seen it, actually,” you admitted, smiling nervously, “so I guess how much he likes it will kinda be a good judge of if he’s worth going out again, right?”

Jonathan nodded approvingly, but Neil seemed skeptical. "Well, the showing isn't until nine— you can at least hang out until the movie starts, right?"

"I've gotta get home and get changed!" you explained

"You can't wear that to a date?" Julien wondered.

"No!" you scoffed, looking down at your ripped jeans and Dracula t-shirt. "Besides, I have this whole plan of what I'm gonna wear— remember when we did Bonnie and Clyde for Halloween?"

Neil was Bonnie and you were Clyde, in fact; he looked shockingly good in that blood-red lipstick, you tried to convince him to wear it again but he insisted it was a one-night-only situation.

"I figure if I wear my Clyde suit, I'll look kinda like James Stewart!"

"You're doing drag on a first date?" Lucien pressed, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, lighten up, I'm just dressing up for the movie— I'll still, you know, try to look pretty," you assured. "What, I don't look good in a suit? 'Cause I got a lot of compliments on Halloween—"

"No, hey, go for it," Jonathan decided, "it's festive!"

"I think it's cool," Neil agreed. "Have fun, alright? And if he creeps you out or something, call the store number and I'll come get you."

"I'm not really worried about—"

"You know? Just call the store when you get home," Neil decided, "so I'll know you didn't get murdered."

"Dude, chill," you groaned. "We're going to the movies, not, I don't know… hiking off-trail in the middle of the night."

You never agreed to call, but you did him one better: you ended up coming back to the video store afterwards, a bit over two hours later. Of course, the guys were still on the couch— apparently the movie was over but they were watching anime (undoubtedly something Jonathan had brought as a palate cleanser after the movie).

They all looked over at you when you came in the front door and the little bell rang; they seemed excited to see you, and presumably to interrogate you about the date. You sighed, knowing you couldn't have expected anything else, but you'd come here hoping they'd let you watch something with them so you could stop thinking about the date.

“How’d it go, hot stuff?” Jonathan purred, and you rolled your eyes as Lucien wolf-whistled.

“Oh yeah, it was awesome, best first date ever— I’m at his place having sex with him right now,” you frowned as you tossed your purse down onto the couch, and Lucien chuckled while Neil looked a little defeated.

“Not that great, huh?” Neil noticed.

“Was he a creep?” Jonathan assumed.

“Did he think the movie was bad?” Lucien pressed.

“No, no, he was great,” you sighed, “he loved the movie. We talked about it for a bit afterwards and he seemed to really understand it.”

“Okay! That’s good, right?” Jonathan said optimistically.

“Yeah— so good that I asked him when we could do this again,” you recalled, “and he said that he didn’t wanna lead me on and he wasn’t interested in seeing me.”

“What?!” Jonathan yelped, while Neil winced a little.

“He said I was really cool and funny and easy to talk to,” you explained, “but that he didn’t feel any chemistry.”

“Chemistry?” Lucien repeated, confused.

“He means he’s not attracted to me,” you clarified.

“What?” Jonathan scoffed again. “Why not?”

“I don’t know!” you whined, but you did know. “I think I’m just, like, friend material. I’m just ‘one of the guys’, you know? Not somebody you actually wanna be with.”

“But isn’t that what every guy wants? To date somebody who’s just ‘one of the guys’?” Lucien noticed, and then paused when everyone gave him an inquisitive look. “That sounded way less gay in my head. You get what I mean, right?”

“As much as I would love to never let you live that down,” Jonathan smirked, “you’re not wrong— like, a chick who can hang. That’s the best.”

“Well, here I am! Hanging!” you snapped. “Where’s my harem of suitors just desperate to date one of the guys?!”

“I mean, you are wearing a suit…” Neil noticed, getting a little defensive when you groaned and dropped your head back. “No, no, you look cool! I mean, you look really great. I’m not sure what he wasn’t seeing.”

"Maybe he's got a girlfriend!" Jonathan suggested. "And he was gonna cheat but he chickened out."

"Maybe he's intimidated by strong women," Lucien added, sounding more like he was quoting a Cosmo than actually thinking that.

"Respectfully, guys aren't that complicated," you assured. "If he wanted me, he would. He doesn't. It's not that deep."

Neil looked away when you said that.

"Well, come take a seat on the losers couch," Jonathan offered, but Neil sitting next to him frowned.

"You think I'm a loser?" Neil protested.

"No, I was talking about that couch," Jonathan said as he pointed to the other one which Lucien was on.

"I'm not even offended," Lucien decided, patting the spot next to him. "I'd rather be a loser with you than a winner with anybody else."

You smiled and plopped down next to him, pulling your legs up on the old sofa and finding the best angle to see the TV from. "Okay, catch me up," you requested, bracing for the barrage of borderline nonsensical exposition about whatever obscure anime Jonathan was forcing on the group this time.

Since the store closed at eight on Tuesdays, you and Neil decided to go out for a late dinner after locking up— the nearest place you usually walked to was a little hole-in-the-wall dishing out Thai fusion, and even though there were open tables inside, you took your paper boxes outside to eat together on a bench.

You each sat up on it with your legs crossed, facing each other, while he poked at his fried rice with his fork and you stirred your noodles with the chopsticks.

“The Palace is still doing their Hitchcock screenings on Sundays,” you recalled, “I think the next one is Rear Window. We could make Lucien man the store and go see it together?”

“Yeah, let’s do it,” he smiled. “But we gotta sneak in the candy, that place is getting so overpriced…”

“Well, that’s a given,” you laughed. “When I went on my date there I had Sour Patch Kids in my bag, but I was kinda craving Reese’s by the time the movie started.

"That guy sounded like an ass, by the way," Neil announced with a frown.

"Oh, no, it's fine," you dismissed. "He was really nice, even when he blew me off, and I… I guess I wasn’t really expecting it to go anywhere, anyways.”

“Really?” Neil scoffed. “Then why’d you ask him out?”

Just in case. “I… I guess I’m trying to put myself out there more?”

“Huh? You’re trying to put out more?” Neil joked.

You rolled your eyes and unfolded your legs to kick him playfully. “You know what I mean,” you groaned.

“Yeah, yeah,” he admitted, “and I support it. It’s sort of insane that you’re still single.”

“Wow, thanks for the pep talk,” you rolled your eyes before shoving a thick swirl of spicy-sweet noodles in your mouth.

“No! I mean, like, I can’t believe you’re single,” he clarified, and you smiled somewhat awkwardly while chewing your mouthful. “You’re smart and fun and cool and pretty—”

Thanks to the food in your mouth, you didn’t have to worry about coming up with a way to respond to that, so you just shrugged.

“Seriously!” he insisted. “I mean, guys hit on you at the store— I wish somebody who actually deserved your attention would walk in that place.”

The guy I want is already there every day. Swallowing, you finally got a chance to talk to him again. “Thanks,” you sighed, “it’s fine, though. I mean, I’ve been single this long— I think I’ll survive.”

“Keep waiting for the right one, okay?” he encouraged, and your heart swelled.

“I will,” you promised, sounding more wistful than you meant to.

After a brief lull in the conversation, he cleared his throat and continued. “Hey, um, while we’re on the topic of Sunday, about the whole fuck-marry-kill thing—”

“I’m sorry,” you offered right away, “I shouldn’t have answered that. I wasn’t being serious, obviously.”

“No, I wanted to apologize,” he returned, “I shouldn’t have pressed you on your answer. It was funny. And it wasn’t like you could say you were gonna kill one of us.”

You snorted. “Yeah, that one was probably the worst of the three.”

“But I shouldn’t have asked you about what you would’ve done to me,” he shook his head, “I was making it weird. So, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you assured. “Did you really expect me to say I would marry you?”

“No,” he admitted, “I thought you’d say you’d fuck me, marry Lucien and kill Jonathan.”

“What?” you scoffed, though you were still smiling. “Why?”

“Well, Lucien would definitely make the best husband of the three of us,” he explained, “and Jonathan was the only one who wouldn’t have gotten butthurt about you saying you’d kill him. He probably would’ve just asked you to give him a nice send-off, y’know…”

You nodded in agreement, wondering if he was going to address the obviously missing third piece of all this… he sure was staring down into his empty fried rice container with intense focus…

“And, you know, as for me,” he began sort of thinly, “I, um… I guess I just figured, you know, you’re the most comfortable with me.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, “obviously, but maybe that would make it worse? Like, at least with Jonathan, I know that if we ever did hook up or something, it probably wouldn’t mess up our friendship. ‘Cause we’re friendly and all, but it’s not so serious. But with you…”

“Uh huh, well, that’s why it’s good it’s just a game,” Neil finished for you, chucking his trash in the nearest can. “Don’t have to worry about any of that stuff. Least of all you and I being married. Talk about a disaster.”

You choked on your throat. “Yeah. No kidding…”

“Well, anyways,” he sighed, standing up from the bench and stretching for a moment, “wanna come over and see if the game’s still on?”

“Oh, um, I’m just gonna go back to my place,” you decided, throwing away the last couple bites of your food on account of your suddenly-lost appetite. “Kinda thinking I should get my sleep schedule in order.”

“That’s good,” he nodded, “I respect that. Have a good night, then, kid.”

“Yeah, you too,” you breathed, waving as he turned and walked off into the night, tucking his hands into his jean pockets.

You looked down at your lap, taking a deep breath and shutting your eyes for a second. Did he have to be so sweet just to cut you down like that? Could he have even known how it would hurt you to say that?

It’s not even like he was wrong, but you were dying to ask him why he was so sure that you and him together would be so bad. What was wrong with you that he still couldn’t see you that way?

Not interested in this repetitive thought cycle anymore, and being very familiar with where it leads, you got up and started to walk down the street. You didn’t turn to go to your apartment, though; you kept going until you heard live music— scratchy, whiny guitars and throbbing bass drums— seeping out of the club. You just needed to be somewhere familiar that wasn’t the video store or home; and, this place conveniently also had liquor.

You slipped inside— hit by a wave of sound as you entered— and took a seat at the bar, half-listening to the band that was playing, pretending to be focused at all on what was going on in the outside world rather than just spiraling into your own thoughts inside your head.

“Hey,” Jonathan nodded at you from the other side of the bar, and you nodded back. He instantly started looking for Neil— of course he would— and you deflated a bit. “You here alone?” he noticed.

“Yeah,” you shrugged.

“Wow,” he smirked, “it’s like when Peter Pan’s shadow escaped.”

You should’ve probably been offended by that, but it wasn’t worth denying— and you were more interested in getting liquored up than justifying that you did, in fact, have a life outside of Neil.

And, actually, Peter Pan was a pretty good way to describe Neil, too. Fear of commitment, leader of freaks and outcasts, daydreamer… all he needed was some green tights. “What are you drinking tonight?” Jonathan finally asked.

“What pairs well with feeling completely unattractive and unlovable?” you sighed.

“Well, that would be my drink of choice: whiskey,” he smiled, setting a bottle down in front of you. “I’ll do a shot with you.”

He poured you both a shot, and you timed it to shoot it back together; he, obviously, took it better with you, and you cringed from the acidic flavor. "Jesus, people really drink this on purpose?" you grumbled.

"Yeah, give it a few minutes," he assured, "it's gonna numb all those stupid emotions."

"I don't have a few minutes," you sighed, "do you have anything more fast-acting?"

"Yeah— a second shot," he joked, but you nodded in agreement. "Okay, shit, you're not messing around tonight."

"Nope," you agreed, watching him pour just one shot this time. "You're not doing it with me?"

"I need to pace myself, I'm here 'til two," he explained.

He slid it to you and you contemplated it for a moment, before forcing yourself to get it down as quickly as possible to avoid the burn. You still grimaced, but recovered quickly.

"Is it working yet?" he wondered.

"I guess," you answered half-heartedly.

“Well, you could always gush to the bartender about all your problems?” he offered, but you just shrugged it off. “Come on, you wouldn’t be the first tonight. And since I know you, I might actually be able to help.”

“I don’t think you can help with this one,” you assured. “This problem has been going on longer than you’ve ever been around.”

“Oh?” he pressed. “Let me guess… boy troubles?”

“Isn’t it always?” you scoffed, irritated that he saw through you that quickly— apparently your reputation of being horrible with men preceded you.

“But this is just one boy,” he presumed. “One boy who… conspicuously isn’t here tonight…”

“Is it that obvious?” you wondered with a whine, dropping your head in your hand.

“Well, if you weren’t having any issues with him, you’d be with him,” Jonathan guessed— and it wasn’t bad logic.

“But, like, does everyone know?” you wondered. “Does everyone but him know that I’m in love with him? Oh god, Jonathan, you don’t think he knows, do you?”

“Wait— love?” he repeated, and you swallowed thickly as you realized the whiskey had already gotten you to say too much. “You… you’re…”

“Okay, so I guess not everyone knows,” you mumbled.

“No, yeah, I think you managed to keep that under wraps,” he assured with a nod, eyes getting wider. “Sheesh. No, I had no clue. Now it’s even weirder that you guys aren’t together.”

“Well, he doesn’t love me,” you explained flatly.

“Did he tell you that?”

“No, god no— I mean, he tells me he loves me,” you corrected, “but he doesn’t mean— we just say that, you know, like at the end of phone calls or when one of us is sad. It’s not, like… we never meant it that way.”

“Right, okay,” Jonathan nodded as he wiped a glass— the way bartenders do when they’re listening to people— but he didn’t seem to understand entirely. “So, you’re not his type?”

“I don’t think I know what his type is,” you scoffed. “I haven’t really noticed a pattern, have you?”

“You’d have to have a few more data points to really draw any connection between them,” Jonathan laughed.

“Yeah, fair,” you smiled, “he’s only had… I don’t know, maybe four girlfriends since I’ve known him? One in high school, for a month— then Eva, they weren’t even really serious, just dating for a while. And then, uh—”

“Tanisha,” he remembered.

“Right! I liked her,” you hummed.

“What happened to her again?” he wondered.

“Got back with her ex,” you recalled.

“Wow, that blows,” Jonathan sighed.

“She told me before she told him,” you admitted. “She wanted me to tell him for her, actually, but I… I couldn’t do that to him. But I came over right after, you know, and we ate ice cream from the tub and watched movies ‘til we fell asleep.”

Jonathan made a sort of face, one you couldn’t quite interpret, and you tilted your head as he seemed to mumble to himself.

“What?” you wondered.

“Nothing, it’s just… he’s kind of an idiot,” Jonathan decided. “I don’t think he gets how lucky he is.”

You wrinkled your brows together, laughing a bit. “What do you mean?”

“Look, I’m not saying he’s, like, legally obligated to fall in love with you just because you guys get along so well,” he clarified, “even if that’s what Neil accused me of thinking— I really do think it’s fine for men and women to just be friends.”

“So, what are you saying?”

“I’m just saying… like, how do you have someone who cares about you that much, and you end up dating fucking Denise for almost a year?!”

“Well, nobody knows how he ended up with Denise,” you coughed. “That was a fucking disaster.”

“I mean, not to be crass, but, uh,” he stumbled a little over his words, “I’m surprised that you coming over after that breakup didn’t turn into a rebound, at least.”

“After eating that much ice cream?” you laughed. “That would’ve been awful.”

“But really, though,” he insisted. “I have a hard time believing the thought didn’t even cross his mind…”

“I can’t really be sure that it didn’t,” you admitted, “I’m just saying, nothing happened.”

“I guess he’s just known you too long to go for it with you,” Jonathan shrugged.

“It’s not just that— you know Neil, he’s kind of an adrenaline junkie,” you rolled your eyes, “or at least he thinks he is. He wants adventure, I guess— and he always talks about us doing spontaneous stuff but it never happens— and I’m just too familiar. Too comfortable.”

“Yeah, he does kinda have something against stability,” Jonathan agreed, “do you think it’s a divorced parents thing?”

“I don’t know, I stopped analyzing that a long time ago,” you groaned, “and I told myself I would stop trying to be what I thought he wanted, but I think I keep doing it.”

“Well, I know you know him better than anybody,” Jonathan countered, “but I know guys, and that guy… there’s no way he thinks of you as just a friend.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because he was fucking lying when he said it wouldn’t piss him off if we hooked up,” he insisted.

“You really won’t let that go, will you?” you grinned.

“Did you see his face? He couldn’t get the image out of his head!” Jonathan assured confidently. “And then that whole ‘fuck marry kill’ thing— he started getting nervous, I think.”

“Nervous about what?”

“That something could really happen with us!”

“You really think he would care?” you frowned.

“I swear to— to Ash Williams,” he decided, “that if I walked into that fucking video store, and told him that you and I did whiskey shots and you came back to my place and we did the horizontal tango, he would beat me to death with the register.”

“You swear on Ash Williams?” you repeated with a smirk, knowing that meant more than swearing on any deity would mean.

“Him and his chainsaw hand,” Jonathan assured, putting a hand over his heart to add to the bit, and you giggled.

“Well, I don’t think Neil can pick up the register,” you decided.

“In that case, you let me know the next time you wanna get back at him for something,” he offered with a wink, and you smiled at him sympathetically.

“I know you’re trying to be nice,” you sighed, “but you don’t have to do that.”

“Hey, come on,” he frowned, “I know you’ve got this I’m insecure I’m a weirdo nobody notices me thing, but you can’t actually think it would be some kind of charity work for me to sleep with you—”

“No, I don’t mean that,” you sighed, “I know I could get laid if I wanted to—”

“But you don’t wanna get laid,” he finished for you, “you wanna be loved.”

You sighed again, even harder. “Yeah,” you nodded.

“I know,” he agreed. “And you know I love you, but—”

“But not like that,” you took your turn finishing his sentence.

His only reply was raising the bottle of whiskey with a sideways smile, a silent offer to pour another shot— for both of you this time.

“Yes, please,” you hummed, watching him fill the miniature glasses with a sigh.

part 2

#neil lewis x reader #neil lewis smut #watching the detectives #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #you know... eventually #but you have to get to part two for that lol

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iceinwhb · 23 days

Text

Dark headcanon

﹅ contains; what in hell is bad, sensitive content, nsfw, explicit content, foul language, explicit lenguage, female Mc.

﹅ warnings; Dark headcannon, insane descrptions, unhealthy relationships, the softest is at the top.

He no longer had any idea how long it had been since he had last properly killed an angel. Perhaps too long to remember how to avoid instant death on the first hit.

Another army of wounded angels came out of their territory, weary from the constant fighting that hadn't changed for years.

Solomon's descendant no longer participated in the war, nor did he allow her to use any special skill. She only stayed in hell so as not to break the guidelines that bound her to him.

And it worked well for a while, until she became suspicious of the strange movements, and eventually, she realized what was going on.

He tried to hide it, but it wasn't long before she realized his intentions.

He still wanted to believe that if she spent more time in hell, maybe just a little longer, would learn to love it and stay. But the betrayal in her eyes, the feeling of him having cheated on her was still there.

She never said anything, and the more time passed, less she liked Gehenna. He couldn't follow her either, or even claim her because he himself condemned her, every day, to delay what might be inevitable.

But this time, at least that day, she had not avoided him. Her eyes did not leave him as he moved deeper into the room where he had taken refuge, so as not to feel that he was losing her.

“Let me go.” Her determination formed quickly, as he approached. “I want you to take me back to Earth. Reverse the deal right now.”

His brow furrowed, not only at the order, but at the strange feeling that plagued his chest.

“Hell…”

“It's your fault, not mine that the deal hasn't yet…!”

“If you can't deliver it, then you shouldn't have made a deal.” He tried to convince himself that this was the right thing to do, even if was wrong. “Or you're going to lie, and tell me you don't enjoy this place…”

“What the hell is there on earth that you can't have here!” He finally reached out, and touched her, not allowing her to move further away. “I saved you from dying back there, you can still die if you come back! You know exactly what you promised.”

“What I promised ended when you did what you wanted, you don't care about anything else!”

“Then go and ask any demon you find if he wants to help you. Go again, scour hell looking for just one…!”

The resounding smack on his cheek stung, especially since it was full of rage.

“Shut up!” he stepped back a few inches, trying to process the kind of feeling that was rapidly evolving, and looked at her again.

The silence was long, more tense than it had ever been, but no words could fix the mistake.

“Whatever you do, you're not coming back” He closed his mouth tightly and gritted his teeth, not knowing exactly what to hide, but already fury was beginning to rise in his brain, as the tingling in his hands began to rise. “At least I thought it would be different.”

“Don't you dare…”

“He and his lineage is always the same…” He held her again, unaware of how much the pressure of his touch had increased, as he threw her onto the bed. His body trembled as the high-pitched whine entered his ears. “But there will be no one who can take you.”

“Son of…” He held both cheeks with one hand, clenching her jaw tightly, the energy of fury continuing.

“Try it. Leave this fucking room and you'll see.”

“I'm sorry, but I can't stay.”

It was the first thing she did, politely, as she turned down the marriage proposal. She wasn't able to remember how many times considered Mammon's feelings after that.

In truth, she did nothing more than take care not to be rude, as her purpose in hell came to an end. She was more relieved to finally be able to come out to earth again, and feel like had a normal life, that even the excitement was more visible than could have imagined.

Didn't care that hell was safer, not quiet either, or that it could give her anything in return, after all, she was aware that once got out. She wouldn't remember anything.

Didn't want to be like Solomon, looking for a place in the heart of the demons because knew that wasn't her place. The reflection, as walked down the hallway of Satan's palace, ended.

Her eyes were immediately drawn to the figure, too large not to quickly identify. The clear eyes, with a hue as beautiful as gold shone in a different way than she knew, especially as the silence continued.

“What are you doing here?” she hugged herself, as walked in the direction of the greed demon, without a fear in the least. Eyes felt intense as it followed her, and immediately, the decompensation of familiarity when not greeted by a habitual smile appealed to her senses.

“You're leaving tomorrow, aren't you?” she laughed, as excitement rose in her head again.

“Yes, that's why I couldn't sleep and thought it was a better option… To have some peace, but if you're here…” She looked around, especially to the sides and frowned slightly, forgetting what was about to say. “Just…”

“Can we walk together?” She nodded absently.

“That's what I was going to do anyway.”

“Aren't you too happy?” Mammon seemed to notice the strangeness she felt at every turn, but the question only made the atmosphere more uncomfortable. Discomfort pounded in her brain, making her aware of the bad feeling that slowly clung to her flesh.

“I don't…”

“You know you're going to forget hell, and all the demons in it when you get back.”

“I thought they were all aware that I wasn't going to… I didn't do anything to make them think more of me, either.” She looked up, leaning closer to Mammon, but was unable to look him. “I never coveted a place in anyone's heart, and I never wanted to hurt yours either.”

“I always told you I'd give you anything you asked for.” Long fingers covered her wrist, gripping her hand tightly. “And I'm willing to give you anything as long as you stay.”

Her only response, at least quickly, was easy to get out of her mouth, with a clear denial that there was nothing better than hell.

That was the worst mistake she could made.

Tried to remove his hand a few seconds later, but failed to move his hand at all.

The last thing she remembered hearing was Mammon's deep voice, with a completely different tone to the assurance he exuded.

“I can't… forget you.”

It was dragging, full of feelings she couldn't understand. But she didn't need to because his thoughtfulness was extinguished when she suddenly lost consciousness and woke up in that place.

A year ago.

And every day she could clearly remember every movement, every gesture. The difference from what Mammon was, to the demon of greed who only looked at her from the other side of the room.

Like at that moment, where the clear, golden eyes were brutally digging into her skin, burning her nerves and digging a deeper and deeper emptiness, to the point that she could even feel cold.

She tried to understand it every time Mammon spent hours watching her, where she had gone wrong, or if from the beginning her fate had already been written by the demon who rose from his desk, with the slowness of a predator about to hunt, until he touched the barrier that separated them.

The hand was not on her skin, but she could feel the need it gave off, the desire to touch her again, and play as if her body was that of a doll for the enjoyment of whatever needs Mammon might have.

A soft smile rose to his lips, and his cheek hit the material of gold and diamond cage. He dared to savor the minutes as fingers slowly opened the door.

“Don't you think it's time for a bath? I'll buy prettier dresses today than last time, and change your place, sweet master.”

Her lips trembled, in sadness, but she made no visible grimace, for no matter how hard she tried, was unable to move the crystalline diamond because of how heavy it was, and also to escape because the hands were too strong to hold her, like a leash that would take her for all eternity if possible.

And at that point, when he carefully held her waist, she was already resigned to being an object that she hoped, would be discarded as soon as possible.

Beelzebub's eyes were lost in the flickering spotlight, with a dull light, and the humid atmosphere only increased the rapidity of his breathing, as his nose sank into the wet panties. The smell of semen and female cum was so thick it made him dizzy.

It was an addictive drug that he could not stop consuming more and more, more and more hours of his day until he completely stopped moving, the bittersweet smell, the salty taste of sweat, and the moans made him lose the thread of coherence that he didn't know when he had lost, or for how long.

Only rolled his eyes, drenched in lust as he looked at the body of the descendant of a man he had forgotten. Tears steadily filled her eyes, as the moans were muffled by the cock that was penetrating the back of her throat with desperation, while pussy and ass were filled by others.

The scene made him move his attention to the semen-filled bosoms, the same that also marked the panties and cheeks, full of deep bites and saliva his. He didn't need to get lost from sight because another copy, took it upon herself to lick the red, sore, and quivering peaks.

His copy's fingers moved to her pelvis, and deftly advanced on her clitoris, before his eyes connected with it, and with a mischievous grin, the Beelzebub overstimulating her parts, opened her lower lips. The copy of his cock was crushing harder on the small body, to the point of making her squirm and almost scream.

He moaned, raw, as his hand pumped the erection harder than he should have applied. He felt suffocated, and at the same time, ecstatic in madness and pleasure.

Came down from the cloud of pleasure as the precious semen was held between his fingers, and his eyes came back into view, where his copy had already cum in his mouth, burying it to the full.

They all came out at the same time, leaving a long line of white semen, with no space to stain when he finally stood up. He held her neck carefully, and swallowed her tongue, the taste so exquisite that he just clicked his teeth together again.

She screamed, but he kept stifling the sound as the blood touched the roof of his mouth. And when she pulled away, his nose followed the line of his neck, perversely enjoying the smell.

She was the king of gluttony's whore. He could smell it in every pore of her skin, so deeply that it stained even her soul.

“You smell soo good…” Too good to want to eat her in one bite, too good to want all hell to notice how much she'd taken and how very much his she felt.

He bit into the skin again, making her scream again, but even the sound impoverished his ability to reason, and heightened the mammoth pleasure. The piece of skin he had torn from the soft skin made him shiver. The softness in each bite, the sensation that scraped warmly across his throat.

It was a taste he had never tasted before. Beyond anything he could have tasted. He sighed, almost cumming again as the whisper burned in his ears, his name, in the bulging mouth that did nothing but tantalizes him, every bite until there was nothing left.

“Please, Beel.” He brought his eyes to the sound, and his mind paused for a moment. The lips were bruised, red, hot, bleeding.

The tears wouldn't stop flowing, and her body barely had the strength to move. She was so adorable that made him laugh, as he held her wrists tighter and his gaze bored into the dark, tired, on the verge of fainting eyes.

“Should I eat you now?” Her eyebrows furrowed, blood continued to drip, staining the white red, and her consciousness slowly faded. He smiled, as he ran his lips over her wrist. “Unless you finally choose to stay. By my side.”

She didn't speak. The silence became so grotesquely awkward, for seconds before another bitter laugh hit his throat.

His chest wouldn't stop pounding, and the shape of his body was becoming less easy to hold as remembered why they were in that place.

They had gone through Abyssos. Passing time as usual, until her excitement slowly faded and she began to want to go back somewhere else, desperate to get away and leave him abandoned.

He returned to his reason, got control of his body and breathed hard.

“Then eat and fill yourself with my cock until you agree. And if you deny it again…” He held her chin, to make her look him in the eyes, but her eyelids fell slower, even disoriented. “I will eat you.”

“Come to Paradise Lost, one last time” She never denied him the opportunity.

He only acted out of condescension, because his conscience was pounding with despair at the thought of losing another loved one, and being forgotten as if he were nothing.

That was the decline of the last drop of patience he could have. He wanted to respect her decision, but the dark thought that she, in particular, did not want to stay was stronger.

And then, once he managed to have her one day, to give her up, but he did not succeed. They walked together, talked, laughed, even the tender moments became a burden and finally, before sunset they ended up in the greenhouse. He offered her a last cup of tea and they continued together as if nothing would happen afterward, as if it was just another day, where he could see her later.

And when she stood up, slightly dismayed, she finally looked him straight in the eye. For a moment, there was clear hesitation, but instead, she reached over and hugged him.

There was a small farewell, the size of a sigh. She touched his face, held his cheeks, and said words he could not have forgotten, “I am grateful to have known you, and I would only like to stay. But this is goodbye, and I hope it won't be the last.”

“You can't go.”

The minutes went on in silence and continued for twenty after his first words were not a simple acceptance.

“I have to go, Luci.”

“I'm not letting you go.” Surprise came over her, slowly, obfuscating his chest, but it was no greater than the sense of loss that kept dripping out, unsteadily, and almost choking him, as he clung to the hands that were still on him.

“Lucifer.” She swallowed saliva, then looked at the door, thinking of a possibility he had already completely abandoned. He tried to stop her, but she only took a step back, avoiding him, wrenching the resignation from holding her even without knowing what would happen.

“You're going to die if you walk through that door.”

The silence continued, before she sat back in the chair, almost laughing, incredulous at what was happening.

“You're not going to keep me here forever. You know that.”

But even if she was sure of it, she wasn't aware of what it meant forever. But that didn't matter after a while, nor did the certainty of an eternity.

He was barely able to leave the room because each time, he found something different, with the same ending, before Gamigin fixed it again and again.

At first, he could understand the urgency to remain vigilant, and eventually, stopped weighing too deeply, because he was by her side, after all she would always live, no matter how many times tried to kill herself, like in that moment, where she was scratching hard at his throat, looking to cut it for having tried to disobey his words again.

He stopped her fingers, lowering them, and momentarily removed the restraint. She finally drew in a sharp intake of breath, coming back to herself. She moved her hands quickly, trying to pull away before salty tears filled her cheeks and came with a loud sob.

Lucifer moved his hands to her cheeks, as she finally seemed to give in and lick gently at the wetness, savoring the salty taste, then sucked hard, longing for the sensation, taking his full attention.

“Stop it, just let me go…” He brought her tongue to his mouth, and tangled his tongue with the other, which was trying to hide, and the tears continued to enter his palate, relentlessly.

The human body was too weak to resist, even when she tried and finally manipulated it to his liking, even touched hard, to the point of leaving nail marks on the soft, warm skin.

But it was not enough.

He grabbed her neck and pulled her towards the wall, the sound was dry, he repositioned the barrier, and his teeth dug into the flesh, mercilessly, as he removed the clothing, ignoring even the struggling that went on constantly, not giving up even when he tore the blood-filled shirt.

Before his eyes, there were only marks of the countless bites that sank into the skin, each time he made her own. There was no longer any place without scars. Even the fingers, hands, and thighs that struggled to flee from his grasp were marked as his.

Though at that moment she was not yet ready to stay, she would slowly realize that the only one she needed by her side was him, for he would not let her see and touch others.

“The only thing you have now is me.” Blunt teeth bit into his shoulder, as nails dug into the wound in his bleeding wings. “The only place you belong is these four walls.”

The little grunt of discord entered his ears, but it was useless when she continued to cry, without stopping, to the point of shaking off his need. The hand he still had available rose to the nape of her neck, and again, he licked away the tears, for he was unable to let her go.

“Only me, descendant of Adam.”

⛧✃✃✃⛧✁✁✁⛧✃✃✃⛧✁✁✁⛧

I dance to you so that it is not obvious that Leviathan is missing here, but don't worry. I'll write it later.

On the other hand… I don't know about you, but they are still very soft cuties (I also don't want to stress that I censure it too much, because yes, you can imagine how they ended with their own mc).

Aaaaaaaaaand… I think when I'm really fucked, sleep deprived and hundreds of wanting to sleep, I don't check well the coherence of the sentences, which is who, and for you guys it must have been a fucking shitty thing to read it, LMAO. I promise to check that for you guys, and even “render” my headcannons. For your health, and mine.

But right now, if I got something wrong, many apologies, (I love very, very, very much the beautiful people who did help me in the last poll. I need you guys too much, I will never leave you. <3).

Although… (I am a poll addict)

#whb #what in hell is bad #prettybusy what in “hell” is bad?#pretty busy #whb beelzebub #whb satan #whb mammon #whb lucifer #whb mc #whb mc x kings #Don't ask me where is Min

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sillydestiny · 22 days

Note

Hello! I'm new here can I request dokja x reader? Like dokja first to fall in love and fall harder after thank you! You can ignore my message if you don't want to! I really like your work !💕

KIM DOKJA X READER

At first, Dokja couldn't quite put his finger on what it was about you that captivated him. Perhaps it was your unwavering determination, your quiet strength that seemed to emanate from every pore of your being. Or maybe it was your infectious laughter, the way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you found something genuinely amusing or the subtle kindness in your gestures. Whatever it was, he found himself stealing glances in your direction more often than he cared to admit.

As he observed you from afar, Dokja couldn't help but feel a strange sense of longing stir within him. He found himself seeking out opportunities to be near you, to catch glimpses of your radiant smile and hear the melodious sound of your voice. It was as if you had cast a spell on him, one that he had no desire to break free from.

As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, Dokja found himself ensnared in the intricate web of emotions he had so desperately tried to evade. He watched you with bated breath as you carved your place in his heart, leaving an indelible mark upon his soul.

Dokja admired their unwavering resolve, their quiet resilience in the face of adversity. In their shared moments, he discovered a sense of belonging he had long thought lost—a connection forged not by fate's decree, but by the silent whispers of the heart.

And then, one fateful night beneath the glow of a thousand stars, Kim Dokja realized the truth that had been staring him in the face all along. He was in love with you, utterly and irrevocably. It was a realization that shook him to his core, shattering the walls he had erected around his heart and leaving him vulnerable in its wake.

With each passing day, Dokja found himself falling deeper into the abyss of love, his once-guarded heart now laid bare before the Reader's gaze. He found solace in their presence, a sanctuary from the storms that raged within him. In their laughter, he found joy; in their tears, he found sorrow. And in their eyes, he found a reflection of his own soul—a soul yearning to be understood, to be loved.

But love, like the scenarios themselves, is never without its trials.

Dokja was no stranger to loneliness, no stranger to the walls he had built around his heart. He had grown accustomed to solitude, to keeping his distance from others to avoid getting hurt. So, he buried his feelings deep within himself, hidden behind walls of sarcasm and aloofness. He feared rejection, feared that if he were to lay bare his heart, the reader would turn away from him, leaving him more alone than he had ever been.

Yet, despite his fears, Dokja found himself unable to resist the pull of his emotions. They consumed him, threatened to overwhelm him with their intensity.

he couldn't shake the feeling that you were different, that you had somehow managed to breach the walls he had so carefully constructed. And as much as he tried to deny it, he found himself longing for your presence, for the sound of your voice, for the warmth of your touch.

The turning point came during a particularly grueling scenario. You had been separated from the group, and Dokja found himself uncharacteristically frantic. The logical part of his mind told him you were capable and would survive, but his heart was not as easily convinced. When he finally found you, battered but alive, the relief that washed over him was overwhelming.

That night, as you tended to your wounds, he stayed by your side. It was the first time he allowed himself to be vulnerable around you, sharing bits of his past and fears. You listened without judgment, offering comfort not through words, but through your presence. In that quiet moment, he realized he had fallen for you harder all over again and irrevocably.

just how much you meant to him. He couldn't bear the thought of losing you, couldn't bear the thought of a world without you by his side.

Dokja found the courage to speak the words that had been weighing on his heart for so long.

I love you..

And as he looked into your eyes, saw the depth of his feelings reflected there, they smiled - a smile that lit up the darkness around them and filled Dokja's heart with a warmth he had never known

Dokja made a promise to himself: to protect you, to cherish you, to love you with every fiber of his being. For he had finally come to understand that love wasn't about grand gestures or sweeping declarations; it was about the quiet moments, the shared laughter, the simple joys of being together.

And as he took your hand in his, his heart overflowing with love and gratitude, he knew . For in the end, it was your love that had saved him, had given him a reason to believe in the beauty of tomorrow. And for that, he would be eternally grateful.

had found his true home, his true love, in the arms of you

#gn reader #manhwa #manhwa x reader #kim dokja x reader #omniscient reader #omniscient reader x reader #kim dokja #dokja #orv x reader #orv #kdj x reader

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ssshh-im-a-secret · 1 year

Text

An Obey Me X Twisted Wonderland Prompt

So, if MC went from Obey Me to Twisted Wonderland, I think it would be very funny if no one believed them when they started to open up about their time in the Devildom.

Like, they tell people they lived with the Seven Deadly Sins, they know the Crown Prince of Hell, etc. but no one believes them. They just kind of brushed it off as them trying to either get attention or to claim that they do know a thing or two about magic, but it's just different, when they are all under the assumption that MC doesn't have magic at all.

So, a bit frustrated, I would love it if MC would just start making shit up. They think they're probably never getting home, and even if they do get home, there's no way the people here will ever actually know anything about the Devildom because it's in another world.

They start making up random holidays, random trends, random career paths, random foods, and various other things. It's all fake. They know that it's fake. But they don't care, at this point it's entertaining. It would be super funny if they had an entire notebook dedicated to their lies so that they can keep them straight. Or if they had a datebook and just filled out random dates with various holidays.

(Bonus points if they end up convincing a few people, or letting the Adeuce duo in on the secret and they began treating it like MC was telling the truth and they believed them word for word)

And then the Obey Me Boys come, and everyone realizes, "Oh my god, MC wasn't lying. We need to learn more."

They start questioning all these crazy things because, even if these people and that place are real, all these facts can't be, right?

Everyone, despite not knowing about this prior, immediately agrees with whatever MC said. Lucifer and Beelzebub are probably a bit more ambiguous with their answers, Lucifer because he doesn't want to lie about the Devildom, and Beel because he doesn't want to answer in a way that may contradict, what MC has said.

Examples:

Random Twst character: So, do you guys really have a weeklong Chicken Dance Day Festival?

Diavolo, who has no idea what they're on about: Of course, it's a week after our two-day Macarena Day Festival.

Random Twst character: Do you guys really eat fire?

Satan, just hearing this for the first time: Most of us, but there are certain colors of fire that the lower-level demons can't stomach.

Belphie: *Gets woken up by Random Twst character*

Random Twst character: Do demons really hibernate for three decades after a few centuries?

Belphie: Yes.

Belphie:...

Belphie, deciding to add onto whatever the fuck they're talking about: But I'm a special case. I hibernate whenever I want for however long I want because I'm the Avatar of Sloth.

Random Twst character: Is it true that you once held up Lord Diavolo's Castle with one finger because there was a rat?

Barbatos: Of course. Mc could never have killed the rat if I hadn't.

Random Twst character, looking judgingly at Lucifer: Do you really breathe fire?

Lucifer: *Raises an eyebrow, but gives no actual response*

Random Twst character: *Is intimidated and drops the subject*

Random Twst character: MC says that you once gambled for five days straight and held a winning streak that entire time.

Mammon, feeling his ego grow ten times larger: Course they did! MC should want all of ya' to know about the Great Mammon.

Random Twst character: MC says you can talk to fish.

Levi: Duh.

Random Twst character: Is it true that you once knocked out an entire banquet of demons with one soup?

Solomon, suddenly feeling very hurt: Wha-

Simeon and Luke: Yes!

Beelzebub: *frantic nodding*

(MC didn't actually lie about this one, but maybe exaggerated a bit)

They probably confronted MC after a few days, and they all had a good laugh about it.

If MC did have a notebook or a datebook filled with whatever they've made up along with when these things supposedly take place, they would probably make more for the Obey Me boys who are now in on it.

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ghosts-bandwagon · 1 year

Note

Hello lovely. I saw that you have open request and ran to leave one. I'm going to give you an idea, just to make it more "easy" for you (idk, I explain my self like a shit when it come to ask for request, I'm sorry). Will be for ghost x reader (or y/n), whatever you want.

What if soap, on the way to mexico, start talking about love and asks ghost if he believes in it (which he can give a simple or a cold answer). To which soap says that hopefully ghost will fall in love at first sight so that he will eat his words.

And when they land in mexico (in the part they meet alejandro and blah blah), there is a friend or maybe alejandro's daughter. And ghost just fell hard and now he has to eat his words. And maybe where Alejandro and Soap notice this and start comment Sweet thing just to fuck him up, like: "Oh y/n, you just win a heart" "Love is in the air" And ghost just having a heart attack.

Basically is the trope of "falling in love at first sight" Just something like that with daddy ghost. Can make something complete different that the "idea" that I gave you. Thank you very much if you write it. Have a nice day ♥️

Your brain… literally beautiful ily and I love this idea 😭❤️

Ghost was a man of few words, he never says anything he doesn’t mean, he’s direct, and he won’t shy away from the blunt truth. It’s extremely rare that he has to backtrack, and it takes an anomaly of the utmost importance for him to eat his words. And that anomaly is you.

On the plane to Las Almas, Soap had asked him if he believed in love at first sight and the lieutenant couldn’t help but scoff before turning his attention back to the empty seat across from him.

“I feel sorry for ye, LT, I’m sure there’s someone out there that can stomach ye.” Soap sighed,

“Focus, sergeant.” His voice was stern,

“Jus’ sayin’”

There was a small pause, Soap’s prodding question hanging heavily in the air. Beckoning an answer that would satisfy,

“It’s not for people like me, Johnny.” He admitted quietly, and if it weren’t for the fact that Soap sat right next to him, he wouldn’t have heard him.

“Respectfully, sir, I think you’re more human than you let on.” He shrugged,

And then the plane landed and the doors opened, you stood beside Alejandro, talking to him and laughing before turning your attention to the two men approaching you. And that was it. That was the kiss of death. Your laugh echoed in Ghost’s mind, bouncing off the walls of the heart he dismissed as cold. Your smile was bright enough to challenge the sun, and when you walked ahead of him with your shoulders back and humble confidence in every step, he was a goner. (It didn’t help that he was mesmerized by the swaying of your hips)

Absolutely fucking not. There’s no fucking way.

After exchanging words in the car on the way to Alejandro’s base, suddenly he wanted to hear you talk about everything and anything. He wanted to hear your life story and everything else in between. So naturally when Soap would ask you something, Ghost would hang off of every syllable that came out of those pretty lips.

And you picked up on that (you’re not Alejandro’s top pick for no reason), and you had to admit that maybe it wasn’t so terrible having a ghost haunt your every step. So you indulged him, and in turn you indulged yourself.

You brought him coffee in the mornings and sat in silent contemplation until one of you broke the silence, and more often than not it was Ghost. He’d ask how long you’ve lived in Las Almas and how long you’ve been in Los Vaqueros, and you’d smile that same smile that lit up the airstrip when he first landed. You answered every question and tried getting some out of him in return, he was a little more reserved than you but you could tell that he wanted to give you the whole truth.

Through all this, you managed to convince your colonel that you were just trying to get to know your new teammates. To which he laughed, winked and clapped your shoulder, much to your chagrin. Soap didn’t go any easier on Ghost,

“So how’d recon go?” He asked as nonchalantly as he could manage,

“Uneventful, thanks to an extra set of eyes. Managed to tag an extra set of guards we missed.”

It was rare for Ghost to throw out a compliment so unaware like that. And even rarer for him to catch himself. It took a fraction of a second for his eyes to widen and return to normal as soon as he realized what he said. But Soap saw all of it. He bit his lower lip so hard,

“Sergeant, I’m warning you.”

“Lips are sealed, LT.”

“Fuckin hell, Johnny.”

And then Soap caught you two. It was a tender moment and he almost felt bad stumbling upon it, but he couldn’t deny he was thrilled to witness it.

“You know your blood’s supposed to stay inside of you, right?” You teased as you held Ghost’s bicep, your hands firmly holding gauze against a nasty bullet grazed,

“Wouldn’t have thought.” He chuckled,

“What do they teach you guys over there?” You laughed shaking your head, your bottom lip catching on your teeth as you tried to suppress it and focus on his wound,

“Personally, I make a tea to die for.”

“A critical skill, I’m sure.” You teased, “You’ll have to make me one sometime.” Your fingers gently wrapping the wound with a bandage, your touch was light and firm when it was needed. Ghost didn’t miss the way your hands shook almost imperceptibly, or the way your cheeks reddened as you seemed to process what you just said,

“Just tell me when.”

Soap was biting his fist as he watched all of it unfold, “Not for people like me” my arse. He watched as your eyes flickered from the bandage on his arm, down to your hands, and back up to his eyes,

“Tell me how to reach you and I will.”

Damn, that was smooth.

Alejandro approached you later on with a knowing smirk on his lips as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders,

“Parece que te encontraste un fantasma.” Looks like you found yourself a ghost.

“Ay, ya, Alejo, please.” You playfully shoved him away from you with a bashful smile and a blush that would put tomatoes to shame.

Not too far away, Ghost and Soap were prepping their gear, getting ready to track down Hassan,

“If ye don’t say anything, ye’ll regret it.” Soap said as a matter of factly,

“Keep it tactical, sergeant.” Ghost sighed, doing everything he can to focus on sharpening his knives. Don’t bite. He’s baiting you. Don’t fucking say anything.

“Besides, they already know how to get hold of me when they want to.”

“What’d I say, sir? I fuckin’ told ye-”

“That’ll do.”

#ghost x reader #mw2 x reader #simon riley x reader #cod x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #ghost #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod one shot

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iwahajii · 4 months

Text

let the rain take it

Ushijima couldn't make you stay.

Staring blankly at the front door, Ushijima wondered whether he'd be able make the right choice if given another chance.

He thought about what he'd do if time would turn back even for just a second because you slammed the front door just a second ago and now his world seems to be crumbling down while he stands frozen in place.

Was he wrong?

Was it a mistake to let you go when you could be with a man who would understand you, care for you, and cherish you better?

Was it wrong for him to want what's best for you even if it costs breaking your hearts?

Ushijima knows his limits the same way he knows his strengths; vivid, clear and familiar like the back of his hand.

Relationships, unlike volleyball, didn't simply require physical strength, stamina and logic. It demanded more from him, things he wasn't sure he could give and things he wasn't sure he even has in the first place.

After the short-lived relationships he had, all of them ending with "I'm sick of trying to love someone who can't love me back", he tried to steer clear of any romantic relationships because maybe they're right. He can't love other people and he doesn't know how to love other people.

But then he met you and by some miracle, stayed with him for almost three years.

Until tonight.

It was only at that point that he blinked, waking up from the slumber your departure induced.

He felt it then.

The splitting, aching, twisting pain in his chest that bloomed and spread until he was visibly shaking. He tried to breathe, tried to calm whatever rampage is going inside his chest when he realized there was wetness in his cheeks.

I don't need you.

The words felt like bullets shot straight to his heart, leaving him breathless as more tears flowed down his cheeks.

It was him who wanted to believe he didn't need you. It was him who wanted to convince himself that he didn't need someone to ask how his day went, that he didn't need someone to worry about him, that he didn't need someone who would accept him for who he is.

He took your affection in exchange for cold treatment and neglect, pushing and taunting until you break your own promise to love him no matter what.

I don't need you.

They were the last words he said to you before you left.

It was the biggest fucking lie Ushijima ever said.

Before he realized what he was doing, Ushijima found himself outside of his apartment, one foot shoeless as he scrambled after you.

He could hear how loud his heart was beating, how cold and stiff his limbs were from the nerves.

The red arrows pointing down in the elevator seemed to laugh at him as the number 2 repeatedly flashes. He runs for the stairs, skipping steps as much as he could. Everything was a blur until he throws himself out onto the street. He looked around, his eyes quickly scanning the vicinity but the rain was making it harder to see under the streetlights.

He shoves his hands in his hair, panic and despair settling down in his gut. There were already people looking at him, whispering by themselves but he didn't care.

He heads for the station, knowing you'd have to take the train to get to your apartment, and it was just in time that he sees you turn the corner.

Ushijima ran like his life depended on it, because as much as he denies and hides, it was the truth he was scared to face.

When he shouts your name, it was hoarse and raw as though it took all his strength to speak.

You barely just turned around before he was pulling you towards him, his shaking arms wounding around your frame.

"I'm so sorry," he tells you as he pressed his lips on the top of your head.

He could feel your body shake as you let out a sob he'll remember for the rest of his life. Taking your face in his hands, he lost count of how many apologies he whispered and sealed with his lips on your skin.

"I'm so tired, Toshi."

His heart shatters and air whooshes out of his lungs like he just received a spike in his abdomen.

"Please," he cries, trying his hardest not to fall apart.

He could feel you shake your head, could feel the tiny push you gave to pull away from him. "I don't want to fight anymore. I can't- Please, Toshi..."

"We won't. I promise," Ushijima cuts in, his voice surprisingly firm. "I'll try. We will work this out. We can work this out, right?"

"Please," he begs again and this time, he falls to his knees, strength leaving his body for the first time in his life. He felt so weak, utterly pitiful because he couldn't protect the only thing he should've protected in the first place.

He wanted to tell you so many things, words scrambling in his head but they wouldn't come out.

I was just so scared. I was scared by how much I needed you, how much I cared about you, how much I wanted you. I never cared for anyone else as much as I cared about you and it scares the hell out of me because I never felt this way with anyone else. Only you. Only with you.

Ushijima could feel the hand he was holding tremble and he gives it a light squeeze, urging you to look at him.

I am enamored by you. I yearn for you. With you, it felt like everything fell into place and I was just so scared so I pushed you away and hurt you.

He watched as your tears mix with raindrops, drawing short, shaky breaths to try and steady yourself. The grip you had on his hand is tight, enough to make him feel something, anything other than the void that grows inside him every second now.

"I think it's right that we let this love go, Wakatoshi. Losing myself once because of my love for you is enough and I am grateful you showed me that."

With your lips pressed softly against his, you whispered, "I will always love you, Wakatoshi," before you took a step back and turned.

He watched as you walked away and the only thing he could do then is let the rain take his tears and words away.

Please, don't leave me.

#haikyuu fic #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #ushijima scenarios #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima angst

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fetusgooseandjuice · 1 year

Note

hii, can u do a Shuri x reader where the reader is in college and is getting verbally and physically abused by her parents due to her bad academics performance but she won’t tell Shuri because she has a country to worry about until Shuri eventually finds out because the reader won’t answer calls or texts? <33

Her Girl

Pairings: Shuri Udaku x Fem!Reader

Summary: The request!

Word Count: 4,606

Warnings: Physical & Verbal Abuse

Second Person POV:

"Hi, my love. How was it?" Shuri asked as you approached her. She was leaning against her car, waiting to pick you up from your college class.

You had walked to campus this morning since it was close to where you lived with your father, and you planned to just walk back home after class.

But Shuri texted you asking if she could pick you up once you finished taking the midterm so she could take you out for lunch, and then maybe spend some more time with you.

It took some convincing before you agreed, because you knew your dad probably wanted you home after testing.

However, Shuri kept saying that you deserved a reward. Saying that the way you overworked yourself wasn't good for you. So you decided to go with her to make her happy.

"It was okay. Just nervous for the results." you responded, letting her peck your lips before she smiled down at you.

"Between all the time you spent studying on your own, and the hours you put into those flash cards you made me read to you, I know you did just fine. You knew everything like the back of your hand." she tried to comfort the nerves you had.

You've never actually done bad on a test, or failed one per se. With the amount of pressure put on you by your father, there's no way you'd allow yourself to fail. But in his book, if you didn't get an A, then you failed.

Nothing more, nothing less.

So you're hard on yourself when it comes to your academics to avoid his "consequences" of failing.

"Yeah, I guess so." you forced out a light chuckle to not only convince her, but also yourself. "I also got my grade back for our last project a few days ago. The one I was doing when you stayed on the phone with me all night while I was working."

"Anddd how'd you do?" she asked.

You sighed, "I got a B. An eighty-five percent."

"Why do you look so glum? That's awesome, baby! I'm so proud of you!" she said with a big grin pulling you in for a hug.

"I don't know. I thought I would get higher than that." you said.

That wasn't a total lie. You did expect to get higher considering all of the work you put into it. But you mostly had that look on your face because you were worried about what your father would say when you finally told him. You wouldn't tell Shuri that, though.

"Well you still did really good." she looked at you with a small smile after you pulled away from the hug.

"Is there anything you're craving to eat, or do you just want to head over to your favorite spot?" she questioned, taking your bag from you and putting it in the backseat.

"That's fine. You know if you let me choose something else then you'll be waiting hours for my decision." you said and she laughed.

"Okay, princess, let's go then." she smiled, walking over to open the passenger side door for you.

~~~

When you got there, you ordered your food and it just arrived. You both thanked the waitress and started to eat, talking about whatever came to mind.

"So besides studying, what have you been up to at home? I feel like recently I've only gotten to talk to you when I help you study over at the palace, or when we're on the phone late at night. I haven't gotten to actually see you." she spoke, taking a bite of her food.

"I guess nothing much really. I really need to do good on these, so I was reviewing my notes a lot. I'm sorry I didn't mean to make you feel neglected or anything like that." you apologized to her.

That is true, but it's not the whole truth. Of course you wouldn't tell her about everything that's been going on at home.

You couldn't.

"No baby, that's okay I understand. I was just a little worried about you because I know how you get around testing week. You forget to eat, and then you hardly sleep. I just wanna make sure you're okay." she gently reassured you.

You gave her the small smile that she adored so much, "I'm okay." you answered and she nodded her head. "I wanna talk about you now." you said and she chuckled.

"How's that project with Riri going?" you asked.

"It's coming along slowly but surely. I think we're gonna put it on hold for a while so she can focus on her classes a little bit more." she replied.

You nodded understandingly, continuing to talk about her work and her projects over the meal you were sharing. You missed having moments like these with her.

You forgot how much she made you laugh and smile whenever you were with her because when important test came around, you tend to forget about everything but studying.

She was always so understanding and patient with you because she knew she could be the same way when it came to her science stuff. However, she couldn't help but feel curious as to why you were so hard on yourself.

You both knew how smart you were so there was no need for you to stress, yet you still did for some reason.

That's why she wanted to take you out today. Yes, she wanted to spend time with you, but she also wanted to reward you for all the hard work you've been doing over the past few weeks.

A little while later, the waitress came back to put the bill on the table. You grabbed it and went to look at it until Shuri spoke up.

"Darling, no. What're you doing?" she questioned with a frown, reaching over the table to try and take the bill from you, but you pulled your hand back.

"It's my turn to pay." You answered and started to get your wallet, but Shuri refused.

"No it's not. I brought you here, so I'm paying." she took her wallet out of her pocket and tried to grab the piece of paper from you, but you just held it further out of her reach.

"Stop," she whined, watching you look through your wallet. "Baby, I'm serious. You're not paying."

"Please? I want to.” you said with a pout on your face.

"Baby, no. I'm actually gonna be upset if you pay, seriously stop." she spoke in a stern, but gentle voice.

"Fine." you finally let her take the paper out of your hand. She pulled her card out and handed it to the waitress along with the bill when she came back.

When she looked over at you, you were sulking which made her smile, “I love you, princess."

You playfully rolled your eyes, "I love you too."

After the waitress returned with her card, you both left the restaurant and got in her car.

"I was thinking we could go back to the palace and maybe watch a movie or something. It doesn't really matter to me, I just want to spend more time with you." she suggested, starting the car.

You sighed, "Shuri, my dad is still probably waiting for me. I told him I'd be home right after I was done testing."

"Y/N, you're an adult. You can make your own choices, and I'm sure he won't mind. We can just lay around for a few hours, and then I'll bring you home. Please?" she pleaded.

You looked hesitant to answer, so she continued to try and convince you.

"My mother has been asking about you nonstop too, so she'll finally leave me alone." she chuckled, looking at you with hopeful eyes.

You wanted nothing more than to go with her, but you knew your dad would be upset at you for getting home later than he wanted, and you'd be in even more trouble considering the grade you got on your project.

You couldn't avoid him for forever, so you thought it'd be better to just get it over with now rather than later.

You looked away from her gaze, "I can't." you said, and you could see the way her face visibly saddened.

"I'll make it up to you, but I'm just really tired." you added, trying to make up an excuse so that you didn't hurt her feelings.

She nodded her head, starting to drive off, "That's alright, I understand. We all need a little extra rest sometimes, right?" she spoke, wanting you to know that it was okay even though she was a little disappointed.

You hummed a small agreement, "I'm sorry."

"There's no need to apologize, darling. It's okay." she responded, reaching over to rest her hand on your thigh in a reassuring manner.

When you got to your house, she pulled up in front of it and put the car in park, "Can we call later?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'll call you after I take a short nap." you answered, opening the door to get out.

"Okay, I love you." she said with a small smile.

"I love you too." you repeated, closing the car door. She made sure you got inside the house before driving off.

You walked through the door and your eyes had to adjust to the darkness. The only light being whatever sunlight peaked out from behind the curtains, and the glow illuminating from the television in the living room.

You assumed that's where your dad was, but you didn't get the chance to check because when he heard the front door open and close, he popped up from the couch.

When he saw you standing there, he quickly walked to you, slapping you across the cheek hard when you were within arms reach. The force of the slap turned your head to the side. It all happened so fast, it caught you off guard.

He grabbed a paper off of the counter and held it up, "What the hell is this." he questioned harshly.

When you didn't look up, he just became more aggressive, "Answer me dammit!" he raised his voice.

You flinched and lifted your head, trying to get a good look at the paper. Your eyes flashed with anxiety when you realized it was the grade you had gotten for your last project. The one you got an eight-five percent on. The one you got a B on, and not an A.

"I-It was my grade f-for my last project." you quickly stuttered out.

He lightly chuckled, turning away from you. You knew he wasn't laughing because he thought this was funny, it was something he did that told you he was furious.

"What in your right mind made you think that it was acceptable to bring that home." he spoke, facing you once again

"I-I don't know, I'm sorry. I tried, I really did." you stammered, squeezing your eyes shut when he back you into the wall.

"That's all you have to say? You tried? What, is that gonna be your excuse for now on?! There are no excuses in this household, there is only discipline because you clearly aren’t understanding!" he continued to shout in your face.

Tears were streaming down your cheeks, and you brought your hands up to cover your face, a measly attempt to hide from him.

But he harshly gripped your wrists, prying your hands away from your face despite your resistance,"Look at me when I'm speaking you!"

"Stop it, you're hurting me!" you cried out over the cruel words that continued to spill from his mouth.

"Losing is a habit, and habits must me fixed." he said before slapping you once again, "Do you think I spent all of this money on you your whole life to see grades like these?!"

When he was finally done yelling at you after what felt like hours, he let go of your wrists and threw the paper at your face, "Where the hell have you been? Why are you just now getting home?" he asked in a strict voice.

"I-I was out w-with Shuri. We went to get lunch because we haven't spent much time together these last few weeks." you quickly answered.

Shuri met your father the first time she drove you home at the beginning of your relationship. You caught him on a good day, so she got to meet the kind, father-like side of him.

But he's gotten worse since then, and there are no good days for him anymore. So that was the first, and last time you'd ever let them meet. You don't want her to have to worry about you.

"Shuri? Well if you think you can just go out and do whatever you want now all of a sudden, then that midterm score better be absolutely flawless. Do you understand?" he pointed his finger at you to emphasize his words.

You nodded your head, but it obviously wasn't good enough for him because he marched over to you and backhanded the same side of your face he had hit multiple times earlier, "I said do you understand?" he spoke quietly, but sternly into your ear.

"Yes, sir." you mumbled, keeping your head down.

He walked away from you, muttering stuff under his breath. You stood there for a few seconds trying to process everything that just happened before picking the paper up off the floor, and making your way to your bedroom.

You set your stuff down, and moved to stand in front of the mirror hung on the closet door. You turned your head to the side, brushing your fingers across the bruise that was starting to form on your cheek.

You sighed, knowing that you were going to have to cover that up the next time you went out. You kicked your shoes off before climbing into bed, silently crying yourself to sleep.

~~~

Shuri's POV:

I arrived back at the palace, parking the car and making my way inside, "Hey, mom." I said when I ran into my mother on the way to my lab.

"Hello, Shuri. Where's Y/N? I thought you said you were gonna bring her back with you." she questioned, noticing that my girlfriend wasn't by my side.

"She was tired, so I just took her home. She said she'll call me later so I'll let you talk then if you want." I answered.

"No, that's alright I don't want to take away from your time with her. I know you haven't gotten to see her much lately, so i'm okay with waiting until she visits again." she responded.

"Thanks." I spoke with a forced smile.

She must've noticed because she tilted her head to the side, "What's the matter?" she asked with a slight frown on her face.

I shook my head, "Nothing. I was just gonna go work on that project for a while." I replied, continuing my walk to the lab.

Whenever I need alone time to just think, I'll work in the lab. Most of the time, I'm thinking about things I need to do and responsibilities I have to take care of, but this time I'm thinking about Y/N.

She's so hard on herself, but she's way too smart to have to worry about her grades this much. Not to mention how she was basically avoiding spending time with me, her girlfriend. She might've actually been tired, but she's already been very distant lately since she was stressed about her classes.

I didn't really know what to think. I love her so, so much, but I just wished she would talk to me about stuff more often. I want to be able to help her whether it's getting her out of the house, or just being with her.

I was brought out of my thoughts by a voice, "Hellooo? Earth to Shuri." I recognized it as Riri's voice.

Turning my head, I saw her standing in the doorway, "Oh, hey. Sorry, I was just concentrating." I apologized for not noticing her presence sooner.

"Concentrating on what?" she questioned, approaching me to look at what I was doing.

"Just that one part of the project I didn't finish earlier." I answered and she nodded her head.

She stood there silent for a few seconds, reading my facial expressions before speaking, "You look like you have something else on your mind besides your work. Has something happened?"

I raised an eyebrow, but still kept my focus on what I was doing, "Did my mother send you?"

She sighed, nodding her head as she moved to lean on the table, "Yeah, she did. And now I can see why. Looks like whatever happened with Y/N was...bad?" she said, trying to gain knowledge of the situation.

I huffed, "No, it wasn't bad. I just feel like she's been distant. I understand how she was busy with studying during test week, but that's over now, and we still can't spend time together. First, she said her father wanted her home, and then she said she was tired." I took a deep breath, and Riri just listened.

"I don't know. Maybe she's getting tired of me?" I voiced, setting down the tool I was working with.

"Woah, okay now, let's not jump to conclusions like that quite yet. Have you talked to her about it?" she questioned.

"Not really. Whenever I try to talk about what's going on in her life and things like that, she changes the subject." I walked around the room, clicking on different screens as I spoke.

"Okay, well maybe start with that. There must be a reason for her doing that, so talk to her. That might be what she needs too. Someone to talk to." Riri suggested.

I stopped working for the first time during this whole conversation, "You're right."

She chuckled, "I always am, aren't I?"

"That's debatable." I playfully rolled my eyes, "We're supposed to call later, so I guess I'll ask her about it then."

"Tell me how it goes? I know you guys will be fine, though." she reassured me.

I gave her a small smile, "I will, thanks." I said before she walked out of the lab, leaving me to continue my work.

~~~

I've been waiting for Y/N to call me for hours now. It was almost 9:00pm, and I listened to my phone ring one last time before it went to her voicemail for the fifth time. I was worried, but tried to think of some of the possibilities, like she's just taking a really long nap, or maybe her phone died.

But as it got later and later without hearing from her, I decided to just go check on her to make sure she was okay. Even when she's busy, she was always good with answering her phone, so that's why I was concerned.

I got in my car and drove over to her house. When I parked, I noticed that there wasn't a single light on which wasn't I guess wasn't unusual considering how late at night it was. But I still wanted to make sure Y/N was okay before I could settle down for the night.

I walked up the front steps and knocked on the door, waiting for someone to answer. When almost a minute passed with no answer, I knocked again. A few seconds later, the door opened, revealing Y/N.

When she saw me, a look of panic flashed over her face, "Shuri? It's almost ten o'clock, what're you doing here?" she spoke in a hushed voice.

"I was coming by to check on you because you never called." I explained, putting my hands in the pockets of my jacket.

"Um yeah, about- about that. My- my phone died earlier, and my charger wasn't working..." she stammered out in the same quiet volume.

"Oh, that's fine. I was just worried about you because you never answered any of my calls or texts. Why are you whispering? Are you okay?" I asked with furrowed eyebrows, faintly noticing something on the side of her face.

But it was already difficult enough to see anything considering how dark it was outside, so I just brushed it off.

"Yeah I'm- I'm fine. My dad is already asleep, and I was about to just do some extra credit work because I couldn't sleep. Probably wasn't the best idea to take that nap earlier." she answered with a light chuckle.

I nodded my head in understanding, "Well if you can't sleep, do you wanna go back to the palace with me? You can spend the night, of course."

She turned to look behind her as if she was checking for something, and then looked back at me, "I don't know, Shuri. It's pretty late." she said, hesitation very present in her voice.

"Come on, baby. Please? I miss having you in my arms." I begged and she sighed, "This can be your way of making it up to me for earlier." I added.

She stood there for a moment responding, "Okay, just wait here for a second. I'm gonna go grab some things real quick." she said and I smiled brightly, nodding my head before she disappeared back inside.

Second Person POV:

You quietly made your way back to your room so that you didn't wake up your father, and packed a small bag of things you'd need for tomorrow.

When you went back outside where Shuri was still waiting, you got in the car with her and she started the drive back to the palace. But what you didn't realize was that you forgot to cover the visible bruise on your face.

Being so mentally tired, it had slipped your mind. You had gotten lucky earlier because the darkness outside affected her ability to see. But that luck obviously wouldn't last for much longer.

After arriving at the palace, Shuri led the way to her room and turned on the light. You set down your bag and started taking off your shoes when she began to speak.

"Do you wanna stay up and watch a movie or are you starting to feel tired-" she cut herself off in shock when you lifted your head to look at her.

Now that she finally got a good look at you, she saw the bruise on your cheek, "Oh my god, baby, what happened?!" she hurried over to you.

"Hm? What do you mean?" you asked, confused. But you realized what she was talking about when her hands gently cupped your cheek, looking at the side of your face.

"Shit." You thought.

You weren't planning on going anywhere tonight, so you had forgotten about the mark. However, it was too late now.

"Did someone do this to you?" she questioned, shifting her gaze to look you in the eyes.

You quickly responded, "No- no one did this to me. I- I just...fell." you mentally face palmed at the poor excuse you came up with.

She knew you were lying from the nervous look in your eyes, and the way you were stuttering.

"Princess, don't lie to me. Please, just tell me the truth so I can help you." she spoke softly, stroking her thumb under the injury.

Help you. You didn't want her to have to help you. She has more important things to worry about than a girl with daddy issues because of her academic performance.

But she thought the exact opposite.

There was not a single concern running through her mind at the moment that wasn't you, because you were the most important thing to her. You were her girl.

During the time you spent thinking about your next words with her eyes staring into yours, tears started slowly rolling down your face.

You shook your head, "You can't help me." you whispered.

"Why not?" she asked desperately. "Talk to me, my love."

You moved your gaze to look at anything but her, "It's just the way he is. As long as I'm in school, and probably even after I graduate, he'll always be like this."

"Who? Who is he?" her eyebrows furrowed.

You looked back into her eyes, and the look that was held in them said everything that she needed to know, "Your dad?" she said shock, and you nodded.

"Your dad did this to you?" she repeated.

You nodded once again, "He's made it seem like he's only proud of kids who bring home A's on every test. The second I bring home anything less, he flips out." you quietly confessed.

Her jaw clenched at your words, "I don't care who he is, no one puts their hands on you. Your own father especially. I swear I'm gonna-" she began, starting to pull away from you but you stopped her.

"No," you said, and she turned to look down at you, "Please don't go." you whimpered out and her gaze softened while her heart broke seeing you this vulnerable.

"Okay. Okay, I won't go. I'm here, darling." she said, gently pulling you into a tight embrace.

She held you for a few minutes before remembering the injury you had, "We should get some ice for that bruise on your face." she suggested, but you shook your head against her chest.

"Tomorrow. I just want you to hold me right now." you said and she complied.

"Let's lay down then, yeah? That's probably gonna be more comfortable than standing." she voiced, and you let her guide you to her bed.

She laid down and allowed you to curl up to her however you wished. Her arm immediately wrapped securely around you while your head rested on her chest.

You sat in comfortable silent for a few minutes until she spoke up, "Why didn't you tell me before?"

You were so quiet that anyone would've thought you had fallen asleep if you didn't respond a few seconds later, "I didn't want you to worry. You have an entire country to take care of, so I tried to just deal with it myself." you explained.

"Love, you can always come to me no matter what. I don't care if I have a million priorities to keep up, you'll always be my number one. I don't want you to ever think that you have to go through anything alone." she responded, rubbing her hand up and down your back in a comforting manner.

You sighed, "I guess I was just scared. Scared of bothering you, and of what he might do if he found out that I told someone."

"Well you don't ever have to go back there. I can stop by and pick up your stuff whenever he's not home, and you can stay here with me." she spoke and you looked up at her.

"Really?" you said.

She nodded her head, "Of course, princess. And I bet my mother will be thrilled to hear that you're staying. I think she loves you more than she loves me." she chuckled, and you giggled.

Her heart fluttered at the sound of your laugh. It never failed to make her heart soar.

"I love you, Shuri." you said with a content sigh, letting your eyes fall shut.

"I love you too, beautiful." She looked down at you with adoring eyes. "Griot, turn the lights off." she told the A.I, and he did as asked.

She lightly scratched you back, watching you relax in her arms and drift off before falling asleep herself.

#shuri fanfiction #shuri udaku x reader #shuri fic #shuri x reader #mcu shuri #letitia wright shuri #shuri udaku #queen shuri #princess shuri #shuri black panther #shuri imagine #shuri x you #shuri fluff #shuri angst #shuri udaku x yn #shuri x fem!reader #shuri x y/n

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nayatarot777 · 1 year

Text

✨ what does your inner bad bitch have to say? ✨

your inner bad bitch is the aspect of you that other people could see before you could. as a result of this, people have most likely been threatened by that aspect of you and tried to project all types of shit onto you to suppress that part of yourself. this helps you to step into your power as long as you know how to overcome the bitter bitches who love to project. or the situations in life that have made an imprint on your mind. choose your pile and listen to what your inner bad b has to say to you.

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pile one ✨

how has your inner bad bitch been shamed?:

{7 of wands, 10 of coins, 7 of cups)

i feel like a lot of you in this pile have had people turn on you, resulting in you having to defend yourself and everything that you're worth. because of these betrayals, your boundaries are firmly rooted and you protect your abundance as much as you can. people have shamed you for your boundaries and they've shamed you for protecting + accumulating abundance too? some of you could have experienced people mistreating you out of jealousy, because they feel like you're wealthier than them or just because of what you own. your possessions. maybe even some family wealth that has been passed down to you for someone in particular. if not, then you could prioritise gaining wealth one day, and for some strange reason, people have made you feel bad about having that goal. people with poverty mindsets, i'm hearing. you may have grown up in poverty but you know that doesn't define your future. others around you who feel differently try to convince you otherwise. you might want to start your own business and you've been told (or you've picked up on the implications) that you're not capable of that. others of you have decided to not put so much focus on money because you understand that money isn't everything (i'm seeing that you'd much rather focus on self-improvement instead), and it's almost like people see you as 'dumb' or 'naive' because of this. you're not, you've just managed to detach yourself from materialism. now you don't know how you should feel about all of the different options that you have available to build either wealth or self confidence + a sense of self, and it's not hard to see why. anytime you feel good about yourself and you share your desires for the future, someone has to come through and put a dampener on your mood.

what does your inner bad bitch wanna say?:

{the star, queen of cups, the fool}

there's a very strong message of advice to have faith and be lead by faith and intuition. a lot of you are idealists, and your inner bad b is asking you to keep the idealism and protect it. the best way to protect this is to use discernment about who you share your dreams and goals with. i feel like a lot of you have such a pure energy that you get excited when you think of a new goal or idea and you just want to tell people. but obviously, some people will project their own insecurities onto you and others are just straight up evil witches who will put all types of evil eye and dark witchcraft onto your wishes. it's time to embark on a brand new journey of blind faith in your idealism though. whatever your biggest dreams are, you should know that they are possible. you could be feeling depleted and that's because you're disconnected from your faith. remember when you were a child and you dreamt without limitations? get a notebook and a pen and write down every desire that comes to mind. don't even think about whether or not it's "realistic", just get them down on paper. it's time to start dreaming again and understanding that the world is bigger and full of more possibilities than people have lead you to believe. 💛

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pile two ✨

how has your inner bad bitch been shamed?:

{justice, 3 of wands, 6 of cups)

people really hate to hear you speak the truth. you could do this in the most caring, loving way possible in order to try to expand someone's mind and they'd still get triggered by your words. these people don't realise that you're trying to extend help. i'm hearing you guys speak to people about their shadow traits and toxic parts of their personality. it's almost like you've been shamed for being a guide for people when they literally put you in that role. and i'm seeing that you may be okay with this role - and so are others - until you say something that people don't expect to hear or don't like. you've been shamed for your want and need to self improve and heal. you're not someone who likes to stay stagnant in am situation that you could change in order to better your life. those who get triggered by you are the people with victim complexes. they don't actually want to improve themselves like you do but they'll keep themselves around you to look a certain way by association. that's until you become "too real" for them. then they want to behave like you're someone who was wrong for being fair and balanced in your judgement of someone that you care for. you're not someone who will support bs and fuckery just because that behaviour is coming from someone who you like or care about. the people who get triggered by you are people who secretly want you to kiss their ass and put them on a pedestal. why? because they put you on a pedestal. they might even aspire to be like you, speak like you, think like you, but they can't match up. you've been shamed for your honesty, your self improvement, and your self healing. also for standing your ground in your own truth.

what does your inner bad bitch wanna say?:

{the high priestess, temperance, 4 of wands}

your inner bad bitch would like to tell you that you find ultimate peace and tranquility in isolation. you're someone who's extremely receptive to energy and intuitive af, so when you're telling people about aspects of themselves that they can't even see from their own perspective, they get triggered. you scare people because you know how to read them. it's like you've shone a bright, white light into the darkest parts of themselves and they scare themselves tbh. but they'll get angry at you for that, instead of coming to terms with the fact that they have shadow traits that they don't want to admit to themselves. you guys will always be the scapegoat for people who don't want to take accountability for the shadow that they carry around. it's not your problem to expose themselves to them though. protect your peace and your energy by building a life that's primarily in solitude. i feel like you guys are naturally quite private people (you could have pisces/12th house placements) and you actually don't have a problem with being alone most of the time. it's other people's expectations who make you feel as though you should step out of your comfort zone and seek out others. now, there's nothing wrong with stepping out of your comfort zone, but i'm seeing that you're experiencing a pattern with the people who you meet. why? because they're not aligned with you. that's what happens when you force connections with people. it'll always be imbalanced with people like this. when you go into your shell and step out of your comfort zone in YOUR own time, you will meet people who can naturally meet you as deeply as you've met them. they may still get triggered by your truth speaking - and the same may apply to you with them - but you'll meet people who are connected to their higher perspective enough to still appreciate you despite being triggered by you. they won't scapegoat you. they won't victimise you. whatever you're searching for in others, you can give to yourself until these people on the same wavelength can come into your life. 💛

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pile three ✨

how has your inner bad bitch been shamed?:

{death, 5 of wands, ace of coins}

most of you in this pile have prominent pluto/8th house/scorpio/lilith placements or aspects in your birth chart. you go down your own path in life. you transform drastically form year to year - whether that's physically or figuratively - but you've had to fight for your right to transform. when you were peeling back the mask that was placed onto you by other people and societal traditions, people attacked you for this. multiple people. and you had to defend your own right to live your life however tf you want to. you've been shamed for wanting to develop a life path of your own instead of sticking to what everyone else was doing. mainly by family i'm seeing. you may have also been shamed for exposing family secrets. you've even be shamed for defending yourself from these people's attacks. i'm hearing "whistleblower", so any group that you're in - whether it's a family, a friend group, a work group, doesn't matter - ends up having to face all of the shit that they sweep under the rug, thanks to you. and people don't like that. you disrupt corruption and cover-ups and force people to address the truth. even if that means you going up against a bunch of people by yourself. you've been shamed for finding value in areas of life that nobody would think to look into, and you've managed to go down your own route for the sake of your peace of mind. these people didn't like that you were able to find a way out of this toxic group and this unhealthy situation because they're too cowardly - or egotistical - to even find a way out for themselves. there are people who compete with you and your transformations in life. on some weird bitch behaviour. especially any seeds planted in the practical world (building a career, a home) and just how you use your creative energy to manifest certain things into the physical. i'm even seeing that some of you could have jobs/careers in the occult business (for example, a practitioner that people come to for spell-work services) and you've been attacked by non-believers or religious people. and you're deadass minding your damn business.

what does your inner bad bitch wanna say?:

{queen of swords, 8 of coins, the high priestess}

you've really perfected your craft, pile 3. you know exactly what you're doing on your life path because you're listening to your intuition more than anything else. these people's attacks have really done a number on how you view your abilities and maybe even your work ethic or talents. you need to differentiate between your thoughts and the residual words of others from the past. because i feel like you criticise yourself quite harshly but it's not actually coming from you. it's a voice or multiple voices from those who verbally berated you before. you might feel like your skills and abilities aren't as "perfected" as they were before (particularly when it comes to your intuition) but the pressure that these people added onto your shoulders is what's still currently weighing you down. it would benefit you to write down everything that you remember these people telling you in order to really observe the bs from a more detached perspective. this will allow you to really understand how illogical and vile these attacks and insults were, helping you to release them much easier. the path to success over these negative thoughts is listening to your intuition (how you truly feel at your core) over your fears and anxieties. and once you establish a clear viewpoint of yourself, set that as the standard mindset that you operate with. a mindset that encompasses acknowledgement towards your own hard work and skills/talent that doesn't easily budge at the opinions of others. 💛

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pile four ✨

how has your inner bad bitch been shamed?:

{7 of swords, 6 of cups, 2 of cups}

i feel like you guys in this pile really don't fw anyone like that. you prefer to heal yourself behind closed doors in order to prioritise what you need to in order to give to yourself. the people who you do fw are very few in numbers and people may have implied that you were selfish because of this when you're not. this is self preservation in a healthy way. i feel like the people who have an issue with this are the people who are salty that they can't get into your energy too easily. and i'm seeing that they usually have negative intentions for you that would most likely lead to backstabbing. your instincts are on point though, and you know when you're being set up. unfortunately, this feeling is familiar to you so you're now hypersensitive to it. it's like people punish you for not falling for their shit??? they get mad that they tried to lure you into a situation, but you were too smart for them. you may have also been shamed for expecting reciprocity from people who you're in friendships or connections with, which is why i'm seeing that you guys give your energy to up to two main people in your life. you could have been shamed for trying to nurture people too which is some bs. people get triggered by your pure, genuine intentions because it makes them reflect on how grimy and sly they are with their own intentions. again, i'm feeling an energy of people shaming you for not folding under betrayal and pressure. you've been shamed for surviving, basically. you know how to juggle things in the way that you need to. i'm hearing someone ask "what do you even do all day?". "you can't be that busy". as if you're not amounting to shit and as if you're not doing shit when you reject spending time with people who you just don't connect with in the way that you'd like to. these people get offended almost and start to downplay what you have going on in your life. you're shamed for your exclusivity over your energy. some people could even think that you think that you're "too good" for people when that's not the case. that's them projecting their insecurities onto you.

what does your inner bad bitch wanna say?:

{7 of cups, 3 of cups, 2 of cups, ace of cups)

you may subconsciously feel like you'll forever have a lack of friendships and a lack of people who you can genuinely vibe with. there may be so many different scenarios that you think of when meeting people for the first time due to past experiences that you've accumulated in friendship groups in particular. your inner bad bitch is coming through to say that you shine best in one on one relationships. group friendships is something that overwhelms you and there are always too many energies clashing with each other in pre-made friendship groups. you might like one person but not like the other in a group, and now you feel stuck in a situation that you'd rather not be in, affecting the friendship that you have with the person who you genuinely get along well with. you're being told to stop forcing something unnatural to you, and accumulate one-on-one friendships to spend solo time with each person individually. it'll be a lot easier on your social battery and your energy field. you won't feel so drained and you'll be able to really dive deep into connections with people authentically and experience who they are in actuality - without being around others (because bitches be switching up around company sometimes 👀). individual friendships will make you feel much more emotionally fulfilled. this is a "two's a company, three's a crowd" type of deal. you can have a good time with only one other person. you don't need to surround yourself with a group that you're energetically not ready for. 💛

#divination #pick a card #pick a photo #pick a picture #psychic readings #spirituality #tarot #pac #tarot reading #pac reading #collective reading #astrology #astrology placements #intuitive #astro posts #12th house placements #astro community #astro placements #astroblr

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galexystern · 1 year

Text

i don't wanna wait my whole life through (to say i'm in love with you) - 18+

pairing; steve harrington/eddie munson/fem!reader aka steddie/fem!reader

rating; E

warnings; fluff, smut (MDNI), pining, fix-it, spitroasting, oral (f & m receiving), fingering (f receiving), face-fucking, p in v sex, established relationship - eddie/reader

word count; 8.8k

desc; You and Eddie start to notice all the things Steve does for you two. Or, alternately, Sometimes things that feel too good to be true are true anyways.

read on ao3 / masterlist

It all started a few months after you, Eddie, Steve, Robin, and Vickie moved in together.

Steve's parents were part of the wave that swept out of Hawkins after everything with Vecna. They'd tried to convince him to go with them, not wanting to leave him in this obviously cursed town, but he'd declined their offer. They almost didn't let him, but he was an adult now and they couldn't force him to do much of anything. Teary eyed, they'd joined the long line of cars inching down the road, itching to get out.

As a gift, they'd left Steve the house. The giant house, with so many empty bedrooms he couldn't hope to fill by himself. So he'd opened it up to the people he cared about most.

By chance, he ended up inviting you and Eddie to live with him first (he made you promise to never tell Robin that fact). It took some convincing, but he managed to puppy-dog-eye his way intothe two of you agreeing to move in. He graciously gave you the master bedroom, something about how it would be awkward to move rooms within his own house and weird to take over the room where his parents had slept. When he'd said that, it'd creeped you out as well, but Eddie persuaded you that you would be able to make it your own, and eventually you wouldn't even think other people had lived in the same space.

Sure enough, over the days and weeks, the whole house transformed. Stuff started filling all the cabinets, drawers, and surfaces until they threatened to overflow. Anywhere you looked, there was something that clued you in on who lived there—Robin's language dictionaries and stacks of pen pal letters from several different countries, Vickie's gardening supplies and magazines, Eddie's sheet music (blank and filled out, he wasn't very good at keeping it organized) and various guitar accessories, your piles and piles of books in every genre available (you liked to hoard them). Sometimes you caught Steve just sorting through it all with a smile on his face; he liked to scold you all for how messy it was, but you could tell he was so unbelievably happy that there was plain old stuff sitting alongside his, almost burying it even. He started to buy more of his own things just to keep up.

And your and Eddie's bedroom changed just as much. You plastered the wall with posters of bands and movies you both loved, dumped your combined clothes in the dresser and closet, placed all the kitschy stuff you owned on every surface available. All the books in the main area were just spillover; they couldn't even come close to how many were strewn across the floor in your room. You bought everything you found and liked in thrift stores (okay, so maybe you were a hoarder in general). Eddie couldn't resist buying any new cat toy for your beloved Sweet Potato (he could say he hated your cat all he wanted but you knew the truth) so they were always under foot. Vickie liked to give you cuttings from her plants, and so those were placed anywhere sunlight reached. You loved candles a little too much, so there were not one but two drawers full of them. There were shells you and Eddie had collected when you'd gone to the beach, VHS tapes of your favorite shows and films, supplies from any hobbies you'd picked up but eventually gave up (it drove Eddie crazy but he couldn't resist buying you things for whatever new hyperfixation you had, he always wanted to get rid of the old things but you wouldn't let him).

And yet, the room was just a little too big for the two of you. The bathroom was enormous—you and Eddie didn't much care for your looks (besides Eddie's hair) and so it felt empty whenever you went in there. You and Eddie couldn't reach the highest shelves and so they remained clear—you two frequently talked about buying a ladder, or asking Steve to put stuff up there since he was the only one who could reach them, but it hadn't happened yet. And the bed...it felt huge, an expanse of sheets and blankets and pillows. You and Eddie could lose each other in it. When you were in bed, even with Sweet Potato, it was like a whole other person could fit beside you, and even be comfortable.

A voice came from the doorway as you pondered that, just finishing up making the bed. "Wow, this room is unrecognizable."

You looked up to see Steve, arms crossed, leaning against the frame. You smiled at him as you fluffed up Eddie's pillow to how he liked it, then flopped on the bed. Following Steve's roving gaze, you looked around the room at all your stuff mixed with Eddie's. It gave you a thrill, every time, remembering that you two actually lived together, on your own, in a house filled with loved ones. Seemed too good to be true.

Turning back to Steve, you teased, "Is that a compliment?"

His eyes snapped back to yours and he narrowed them playfully. "No, I actually hate what you've done with the place."

You clutched your chest in fake hurt, comically dropping your jaw too wide. "You wound me."

Steve laughed, the sound music to your ears, and you couldn't help but grin back at him, breaking the act. "It looks great," he said, genuine this time. "There's no mystery about who lives here."

"You trying to be dick?" You asked with a raised eyebrow.

A faint blush rose to his cheeks. "No. I like it. It's nice knowing you and Eddie are here. Living here. With me."

"Well," you replied, looking away, your own face flushing, "we like it."

You could feel his eyes on you. "Good," he said quietly. Taking a chance, you looked back up and caught his stare. It felt intense. And then he cleared his throat, breaking the moment. "Maybe I should've kept this room." His teasing tone was back. "If you're not careful, I might take it back."

"Oh yeah? I might just dare you to." You smirked.

"Mm, well, I'm not going down without a fight."

"Neither are we."

You and Steve grinned at each other goofily and your heart pounded and his hand clutched at his bicep and then Robin's voice thundered through the house.

"STEVE!"

Said man huffed out a laugh. "Guess that's for me."

You nodded and watched as he gave you one last smile before disappearing from view. You heard his footsteps down the hall, then the stairs, and then you couldn't hear them anymore.

After that encounter, you started noticing.

Like the day Steve came home from grocery shopping, dumping the bags on the kitchen counter while chanting "gotta pee" before quite literally running to the downstairs bathroom. You'd been at the table, engrossed in a book. Your focus broken, you got up and perused the bags, looking for something to snack on. You wanted to be quick—Steve didn't like it when anyone ate too close to a meal, he said it ruined your appetite and Vickie's delicious cooking would go to waste, something you never understood because Eddie inhaled anything in the fridge when he got the munchies and so leftovers were always eaten—but then you found no less than six different bottles of allergy medication. You picked a couple out and examined them.

You heard Steve walk back into the room and looked up at him. "Who're these for?" You asked curiously.

He glanced at the bottle in your hand. "Oh, they're mine."

"What? Why?"

"I'm allergic to cats."

You looked down. Sweet Potato was weaving between his legs, leaving orange hairs all over the bottom of Steve's jeans. He was notorious for how much hair he shed all over the house. You tried to vacuum regularly, but it was impossible to get it all.

Your eyebrows raised so high they probably hit your hairline. "Steve!" You exclaimed. "Why didn't you tell us?"

Steve shrugged and leaned over to pick up Tato and hold him to his chest. "Because you and Eddie love this pea-brain," he answered. The cat head-butted him affectionately, purring loudly, and Steve scratched under his chin. "I wouldn't have made you get rid of him. Besides, he's grown on me." Tato started making biscuits on his shoulder.

That's when Eddie walked into the room. He saw Steve holding Tato and immediately went over to them. "Hello, you little monster," Eddie said lovingly, petting him. Sweet Potato just soaked up all of their attention. Your heart melted at the sight.

Steve looked up at you. "Can you and Eddie put away the groceries? Since I shopped and paid, it's the least you can do."

You rolled your eyes. "You're the one who can afford it." Steve smirked. "But yes, we'll unpack." Steve nodded and left the room with Tato.

"Why do you rope me into these things?" Eddie whined. You smiled at him and he reflexively smiled back, walking over to give you a kiss.

"Help me now," you replied, "and I'll give you a back rub later. If you're good." Eddie's eyes lit up and he immediately went over to the counter and started taking things out of bags. You shook your head fondly—when you gave him back rubs, things tended to get heated, if you know what I mean—but still stared at the space Steve had been, thinking over what he'd said. Until Eddie called your name and you turned away, joining him in the task.

Or that time when you and Eddie were at work and a sudden thunderstorm broke out in the late afternoon. It shocked the hell out of you both when lightning flashed through the music shop, a crack of thunder following immediately after.

"Oh, man, we didn't bring any umbrellas or coats or anything," you whined to your boyfriend.

He kept sorting through the new records that had come in, setting aside any that looked interesting. He liked to play those on the store's player near closing time, when there weren't any customers and it was just you and him, sitting on the counter and soaking up the sound. If Eddie was feeling particularly romantic, and the record was full of ballads, he liked to dance with you in the aisles, making you feel like the only person in the world.

"You can wear my jacket," he offered.

"But then you wouldn't have anything to wear," you retorted, to which he shrugged. You rolled your eyes, knowing you wouldn't take up that offer. It was super easy for Eddie to get sick, you'd learned, and going into a thunderstorm without a coat would give him a cold almost immediately. Then he'd bring it home and spread it around the house, making everyone miserable. You weren't going to let that happen.

You watched the rain fall through the window when a familiar car pulled into a parking spot out front. You peered outside as the car door opened and someone stepped out and ran to the door. They opened it and in walked...

"Steve!" You called out in surprise and Eddie looked up.

Steve gave a wave, one of his arms full of stuff, stamping his feet on the shop's welcome mat before walking towards you both.

"What are you doing here, man?" Eddie asked, bewildered, records forgotten.

Steve huffed and dumped what he was holding onto the counter in front of you. You looked down and found that it was your and Eddie's rain gear, complete with your coats, boots, and umbrellas.

"Thought you might need these," Steve said. You and Eddie stared at him in awe.

"You brought these here for us?" You asked.

"In a thunderstorm?" Eddie continued.

Steve shrugged, the tips of his ears going pink. "I know you didn't take them this morning, what with the sun shining and everything, and I know how easily this one—" he pointed to Eddie, "—gets sick, and I wasn't doing anything so..." He cleared his throat. "I thought I'd bring them to you. Be a good friend and all."

You just looked at him.

"Well," Steve broke the silence. "I guess I'll go now." He turned away and started back towards the door.

"Wait," Eddie called, and Steve stopped and turned back around. "Do you wanna stay and eat lunch with us? We haven't taken it yet."

"Oh, I didn't bring any food," Steve said, sounding disappointed.

"That's okay," you replied. "I always pack extra since this one—" now you pointed to Eddie, "—likes to steal my food. Maybe he can control himself and you can have it." You raised your eyebrows at your boyfriend, who nodded excitedly. "Yeah! Stay!"

Steve just looked at you.

"Unless you have somewhere you need to be?" You asked. "Do you need to bring Robin and Vickie their stuff too?" You knew they were at work as well and sure to have not grabbed their stuff either.

"Oh," Steve answered, looking sheepish, "I didn't bring theirs. I forgot it."

You and Eddie laughed. "We won't tell them," you promised.

At that, Steve smiled and walked back to the counter. "In that case, sure. I'd love to stay."

While Eddie grabbed your lunches from the back, you stowed your rain gear under the counter and hopped up to sit. Steve leaned next to you, and you could feel the warmth of his arm against your leg. Eddie returned and you three sorted through the food, picking and choosing what each of you wanted to eat. Once that was done, you dug in, talking about what Steve had watched that morning and what records Eddie had chosen to play and what you were reading at the moment. It felt nice, with the rain pounding away outside, matching how your heart felt.

Or the time when you and Eddie had gone to a concert and gotten a flat on the drive home and had to stop at some random gas station. It was practically the middle of the night and there was no one around. Even the gas station store was closed. It was cold and you both shivered as Eddie dug through his pockets for change.

"Here," he said, teeth chattering. He had two quarters, two chances to get a ride home. You took one and called the house, but it just rang a couple of times before the machine picked up.

You hung up the phone with a huff. "No one's home. Steve, Robin, and Vickie are probably still at that party they were going to."

"What are we going to do?" Eddie asked. His tone sounded calm but his word choice revealed his worry. "Who else can we call?"

"Maybe Joyce? I don't—wait!" You ran to the van, opening the door and digging through the glove compartment. "I know it's in here," you muttered as you threw everything in there on the floor. Eddie's messiness and your hoarding were really catching up to you.

Finally, your hand closed around a piece of yellow paper. You pulled it out and quickly examined it. Smiling, you jumped out of the car and ran back to Eddie.

"What's that?" He asked, his hands deep in his pockets.

"Sometimes, Steve's maternal instinct comes in handy," you answered, showing him the list of names and numbers of all of Steve's closest friends. Eddie laughed. "I can't believe we actually have use for that thing."

"Me either," you breathed and grabbed the last quarter. You were so happy you remembered Steve was at Emily's house, otherwise you and Eddie would've been screwed. You dropped in the quarter and dialed the number. You hoped Steve would answer, but you would've been fine with anyone after the third ring.

Eventually, someone picked up. "Hello?" You could barely hear them over the party noise.

"Emily!" You yelled. "It's Y/N!"

"Oh! Hi Y/N!" She shouted back. "What's up?"

"Is Steve there?"

"Yeah! One minute!"

You waited for three seconds.

"Y/N?" Steve's voice came through the phone and you relaxed almost completely. Everything would be okay. Eddie noticed and sighed in relief, leaning against the wall. "What's wrong?"

"We got a flat tire!" You answered. "Can you call us a tow truck or something?"

"No way," he said, and you tensed in confusion. "I'm coming to get you!" You relaxed again but didn't understand. "What?"

"Just hold tight! Where are you?"

You told him you were just off Highway 73 at a gas station. He said he would be right there and hung up.

You and Eddie ran back and got in the van, turning it on so you could have some heat. "At least the battery didn't die," Eddie joked. "Otherwise we would've frozen." You rolled your eyes but didn't say anything, just leaned against his shoulder. You two dozed until someone knocked on the driver's side window.

You both jumped and saw Steve outside. He waved and Eddie rolled down the window. "Come on," he said. "Get in." He pointed over his shoulder at his car.

"What about the van?" You asked.

"We'll get a tow truck in the morning. Let's just get you home and out of the cold," he replied. He waited as you two got out of the van, grabbed anything valuable, and locked it, leading you to his BMW.

Eddie dove into the back and laid across the seats. "It's so warm in here," he slurred, half-asleep already. You and Steve smiled as you buckled into the front. Steve looked both ways before pulling out onto the road. You lay in the passenger seat, head turned to watch Steve as he drove. It was warm and everything smelled like him, a comforting, familiar sensation. Your eyes drooped, following Eddie's lead. Steve kept his hand on the stick shift and you laid yours on top. He looked at you briefly.

"Thank you," you whispered. He smiled softly. His hand flipped upside down and squeezed your fingers, making your heart flutter. Your eyes closed fully.

"Go to sleep," Steve whispered back, and you could've sworn he said "my love" at the end, but you were already gone.

;

"Babe," you started, as you slid under the covers and into bed beside Eddie, trying not to disturb the sleeping Sweet Potato. "Have you noticed anything...odd about Steve recently?"

Your boyfriend turned on his side to face you, a curious expression on his face. "What do you mean?"

You explained about the allergy meds and rain gear and flat tire.

"What do you think it means?" Eddie asked.

You sighed. "I don't know. But it's confusing me."

Eddie hummed, and you watched as he thought. "You know," he said eventually, evenly, "maybe he has a crush on you."

Your breath caught, but shook your head anyway. "It can't just be me. All the things I told you about were for both of us."

Eddie narrowed his eyes at you. "We don't know that he's bisexual."

"Yeah," you conceded. "But he knows we are." Eddie's eyes widened at that and you giggled.

"Now that I think about it," he mused, "he lets you drive his car. He doesn't let anyone else do that."

"Well, he lets your band practice in the garage whenever you want."

A moment of silence.

"He does let me pick whatever we watch when we're together," you continued.

"He lets me play any new record I get, even if he knows he won't like it," Eddie said.

"He always gets my favorite flower when he goes shopping..."

"...and our favorite magazines..."

"...and our favorite candy."

You and Eddie looked at each other and spoke at the same time.

"Holy shit."

;

It felt like a dream. It actually was a dream, kind of the dream for you and Eddie both. You'd determined that a few months ago, before you'd moved in with Steve, back when you were living with Eddie in his trailer.

It was just pillow talk, uncommonly intimate pillow talk. It was raining outside and the trailer felt warm and cozy and you and Eddie were in sex's afterglow, tangled up in each other. It started innocently enough, but then you started discussing exes and old lovers. You'd been a goody two shoes in high school, never getting into trouble, never doing much of anything. Unfortunately, that meant you didn't get much action, and Eddie was your first (and probably last) serious boyfriend. He wasn't your first though, and so you told him about how you'd lost your virginity to some nice, bland kid at summer camp—the same summer you had your first kiss with a girl. Eddie had whistled and said something about how for someone who didn't do anything, you sure did at lot in those three months. You'd hit him but blushed as well.

Eddie had talked about Tanya, the girl he'd dated throughout freshman and sophomore year, before she'd moved away. He'd been devastated, thought she'd been the one and everything, but long distance didn't work and he'd eventually lost touch with her. It'd hurt for a long time, and still hurt if he was being honest, but he said you were better than she ever was. You rolled your eyes but you couldn't stop a smile from playing on your lips.

Then he'd asked, "Do you have a crush on anyone?" You looked away quickly and he noticed. "You do," he said. You could hear the smirk on his face. "Who is it?"

"No one," you insisted, not wanting to say and hurt his feelings.

It was like he could read your mind, he always could. "You can tell me, I won't mind."

You looked up at him. "Are you sure?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die," he answered, complete with the motion of an x across the left side of his chest. You smiled softly at the gesture. "Go ahead, princess."

"Well..." You started softly. "I've always had a crush on Steve."

Eddie's eyes just about bugged out of his head. "Steve? Our Steve? The Hair?"

"Don't say it like that!" You shoved him lightly. "You've seen how he's changed after graduating. Everyone had a crush on him before, who wouldn't have a crush on him now?"

"Me," Eddie scoffed, but you could see him bite the inside of his cheek—the tell-tale sign he was lying.

You gasped. "You liar!"

"No!" He exclaimed, trying to save face.

"Yes!" You were excited now. "You have a crush on him too! Oh my god!"

He shoved his face into his pillow and groaned. "No I don't!" You heard him say, his voice muffled.

You leaned in close to his ear. "You can't hide from me," you said lowly, teasing him. "I know all of your secrets. And now I know this one too, the juiciest one by far."

"It's not that big a deal" came from the pillow.

You leaned back. "It's not." Eddie lifted his head and looked at you with an eyebrow raised. "You're just as hopeless as I am."

He sighed loudly and flopped onto his back, staring at the ceiling. "He's just so pretty," he whined, lovesickness finally coming out.

"He is." You mirrored his position, grabbing his hand and holding it tight. "Sexy, too."

"Yeah...and funny and caring and beautiful and thoughtful and smart..."

"You sound like you're down bad more than me." You giggled.

"Well then, babe, you should catch up."

"Oh, I will."

"Good," Eddie said, sounding tired. He leaned over to give you a hug and kiss before rolling away.

You pouted. "Why don't you ever hold me at night?"

"Angel, I love you, but you're like a million degrees when you sleep. You make me feel like I'm going to melt into a puddle."

"I bet Steve would cuddle me."

Eddie chucked into the dark. "I bet he would."

You huffed.

;

You laid on the couch, head on Eddie's lap and feet on Steve's. Credits rolled across the TV screen, throwing the room into near darkness. Red flared above you as Eddie took a hit, passing the remnants of a joint to you. You took a drag and inhaled. Steve's hand lightly caressed your leg as he brought it to yours, plucking the joint from your fingers. You exhaled shakily and Eddie rubbed the back of your neck as his hands brushed through your hair. He knew.

It'd been a few weeks since your and Eddie's conversation regarding Steve's behavior, and since then, you couldn't stop seeing all the things Steve did for you both. Reading the books you raved about, listening as Eddie's band practiced and giving praise, buying little things he thought you two would like. You and Eddie tried to return the favor: you took pictures of the three of you together with the camera you'd picked up during your photography phase, visited him at work whenever the two of you were off to cheer him up, brought him home cassettes of his favorite musicians as soon as they came in. For his birthday, Eddie wrote him a cute little jingle and you gave him a collage of all the pictures you'd taken together; he loved and cherished them both. But nothing felt like enough—not enough to show him how much you two cared for him. Nothing short of telling him felt like enough, but you were scared. It felt too good to be true.

"Steve," Eddie said, breaking you out of your reverie. The man at your feet hummed. "Why didn't you leave with your parents? Why did you stay in Hawkins?"

A minute of silence passed.

Eventually, Steve answered, voice scratchy from not using it in a few hours, "It's complicated. Part of me wanted to go. I love my parents, but I never got to see them. They always worked too much. It felt lonely, when I was a kid. I thought maybe this was my chance to really spend time with them." He sighed. "But that wasn't real. They were going to continue working hard even after moving. I would've been alone again—actually alone, without all of you."

You made a sympathetic sound and he squeezed your feet in gratitude.

"And..." He continued. "And it just felt wrong to leave everyone. I don't think it would've felt right to live anywhere but Hawkins. Cursed as it is." He chuckled softly. "You know what I mean?"

"Mhm." Eddie answered for the both of you.

"This is where I belong. With you."

You knew he was talking about everyone, the kids and adults and other teenagers, but it really felt, in that moment, like he was talking about the three of you. You, Eddie, and Steve, saying you belonged together. You felt the same, deep down in your bones.

"Steve," you said suddenly, propping yourself up on your elbows. "I—"

He turned his head to you, leaning against the back of the couch, the moonlight shining through the windows to highlight his face, with its sharp jaw and high cheekbones and strong nose. His eyes sparkled and his hair glowed and a soft smile spread across his mouth and your words died in your throat. He was too beautiful, too kind, too loving for you. You didn't deserve him.

If it seems too good to be true, it probably is.

"Um," you managed. Eddie rubbed your neck again, giving you strength. "We would've missed you. If you'd left."

"I would've missed you too," he whispered, still smiling at you, giving you butterflies.

You laid back down and looked at Eddie desperately. He nodded and said, "Well, I better get this one upstairs," patting your hip. At that, you pulled your legs from Steve's lap, missing his warmth already. "Scoot up," Eddie murmured to you and you did as he asked. Once you were in a better position, he placed his arms under your knees and back, lifting you as he stood up from the couch.

"Damn, Munson," Steve said, sounding impressed.

Eddie turned you both around and he winked at Steve, making you giggle. Steve also laughed, staying seated as Eddie carried you upstairs to your room. He laid you on the bed gently. "Are you okay?" He asked softly.

You nodded but didn't say anything.

"You know I love you, right?"

You smiled. "How much?"

"Oh," Eddie drew out as he sat on the bed next to you. You climbed into his lap and straddled him. "More than the number of stars in the sky. More than the amount of water in the oceans. More than the number of trees there ever have been or will be."

Love for him pooled in your stomach. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he answered simply. You kissed him, deeply, passionately. You wanted to forget you couldn't have Steve. You wanted to remember that you would always have Eddie.

Like always, he read your mind and pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist and letting his hands rest on your ass. He ran his tongue along your lower lip and you opened for him. He gently moved your hips, making you grind against him, and you moaned at the hardness beneath you. His mouth left yours and ran hot kisses down your jaw and neck, stopping at your pulse point to suck deeply. You groaned again at the sensation, pressing harder against his crotch.

"Eddie," you panted. "Need you."

His teeth nipped at your skin when you said his name and you whimpered, his tongue soothing the hurt. His hands moved to the hem of your shirt and you leaned back so he could pull it up over your head. He moved towards you again, and his lips explored the newly exposed skin like it was the first time. He always made you feel so precious, like you were a wonder he couldn't believe he got to touch. You placed your hands on his face and pulled it up to yours, kissing him deeply again. He grunted, smashing your chests together in an effort to get closer to you. You gasped lightly as his shirt rubbed against your breasts, creating friction and making your nipples stand at attention.

He leaned back and pulled his own shirt off, throwing it somewhere behind you. Your fingers caressed the open skin, feeling the line between his abs, the happy trail leading into his jeans. Going lower, past the waistband, to the bulge that was growing as you kissed. You rubbed the heel of your hand against it and he broke away to groan into your neck, the sound going straight to your cunt.

Eddie suddenly flipped you so you were lying underneath him, head against the pillows. He trailed his lips down your neck to your chest, taking one of your nipples into his mouth and sucking. You gasped, hands going to his hair and pulling him closer. He swirled his tongue around, a hand coming up to tweak the other one and make your back arch. "Good girl," he muttered against your skin and you whimpered at the praise. "Don't worry, baby. I'm going to make you feel good."

He continued down your torso, sucking bruising marks here and there, making sure they would stick around for a while. Finally, he reached your waist, and he pulled down your pants and underwear in one go. You sucked in a breath as the cold night air hit you, goosebumps popping up. But it was quickly replaced with Eddie's warmth, as he ran wet kisses down your thighs and licked a long stripe up your slit.

"Fuck," you moaned, thrusting your hips up. Encouragement enough for Eddie to dive back in and devour you.

That's when the door creaked.

You looked up and said breathlessly, "Steve."

He stood in the doorway, your jacket in his hand. His mouth was open but he didn't move, watching where Eddie's head was buried between your thighs. At your voice, he ripped his gaze away to meet yours, and your breath caught at his dark eyes and hungry expression.

Eddie lifted his head. "Did you just call me 'Steve'?" But when he realized where you were looking, he sat up, turned, and saw Steve as well. He must've recognized the same look on his face as you did, because neither of you moved. In fact, Eddie brought up his fingers to drag through the slick wet of your pussy, making you gasp. Steve swallowed at the sound.

"Hi there, pretty boy," Eddie said, and Steve looked at him. "What a nice surprise."

"I—" His voice was strangled. "I just wanted to give this back."

"How chivalrous of you," Eddie replied, somehow sounding calm and wrecked at the same time. The hand not lazily sliding between your legs grabbed your ankle, and that was your only warning before he pressed his middle finger into you. You arched back at the sensation, still staring at Steve, who looked down at Eddie's finger pushing in and out of you slowly. "You know Steve, this angel right here has never been wetter than she is right now."

"Oh?" Steve said faintly. The squelch of Eddie's finger moving sounded louder than ever.

"Yeah," Eddie drew out. "I think maybe it has something to do with you?" On "you", he added another finger and you moaned loudly at the stretch. His rings felt cold against your hot skin, and it just heightened the tension in the air between you, Eddie, and Steve. "What do you think?"

"Fuck," Steve breathed out.

"How about you, princess?" Eddie turned his attention to you and you could see the wicked glint in his eye. "Who do you think is making you so wet?"

He hit inside you particularly hard and you cried, "Steve."

Eddie looked back at Steve triumphantly. "See, pretty boy? All you. Now, rather than me just telling you, would you like to come over and feel it?"

Steve nodded dazedly, stumbling forward and closing the door behind him. He walked to the bed unsteadily as you and Eddie watched him. Once he got close enough, Eddie removed his fingers from you. You whimpered at the emptiness, clenching around nothing, but Eddie leaned forward and pressed his fingers into your open mouth. "Suck, beautiful," he murmured and you followed orders. Eddie and Steve both groaned at the sight and your eyes fluttered shut in pleasure.

You felt someone shift and opened them to find Eddie now sitting beside you and Steve perched between your open thighs. You locked eyes with him as he shakily reached out a finger and gently swept it through your slick. His eyes widened at the sensation and he said, "Wow."

"Go ahead, pretty boy," Eddie said, his hand coming up and massaging your breast. "Give it a taste."

Steve kept your gaze as he slowly leaned forward and very lightly touched the tip of his tongue against your clit. You both moaned at the feeling, Steve's eyes rolling back up into his head as he pressed closer and pushed his mouth into your pussy. You let out sounds like you were falling apart, feeling like you were, as Steve's tongue explored your folds, never stopping, like he didn't want to stop. Like he wanted to map you down to the millimeter.

"You make such pretty sounds, sweetheart," Eddie said, and you wrenched your gaze from Steve to him. "Doesn't she, Stevie?"

You felt Steve nod against you, pushing impossibly closer. He was settling now, moving his tongue down so it could press inside you, and your body shivered. He did that a few times before running it back up, nosing your clit teasingly. "Tastes so good," he groaned, and you and Eddie both responded with your own whines. "Like honey."

"She's our sweet girl," Eddie managed to say, though his voice was barely there.

"Eddie," you whimpered out. He knew what saying "our" would do to you.

But then Steve pushed two fingers inside you while lazily sucking at your clit, and you cried his name out with pleasure. Your hips moved of their own accord, thrusting down to meet Steve's hand, like it was a dance you two knew how to do without ever trying before. Eddie's free hand moved and rubbed his hard cock through his jeans, slowly but forcefully. You didn't want him to feel left out, so you lifted a hand to tangle in his hair and turn his head towards you. "Kiss me," you pleaded in a whisper.

Eddie wasted no time, falling into you and your mouth, tongues immediately clashing. Your noses and teeth and jaws bumped together, feeling violent, as you chased your climax on Steve's mouth and fingers. "Do you wanna cum?" Eddie asked into your mouth and you nodded against him frantically.

He leaned away and you whined pitifully. "What do you think, Steve?" Eddie sounded absolutely breathless. "Should we let our good girl here cum?"

As an answer, Steve revved up his motions and worked overtime, making you wail wantonly into the dark. It only took another minute of Steve's ministrations and Eddie's kisses and then you were over the cliff, free-falling into your climax. Your body jerked as Steve slowed but didn't stop, extending your pleasure, making sure it lasted as long as possible. At some point, you moaned in overstimulation and Steve finally stopped, letting you collapse on the bed and try to get your breathing back. He sat up and put one of his wet fingers in his mouth, and you watched as he sucked it clean, closing his eyes at the delicious taste. If you could've moaned, you would've.

Then Steve opened his eyes and trained them on Eddie, who swallowed slowly. "Here," Steve said simply, and held out his other wet finger to your boyfriend.

They didn't break eye contact as Eddie crawled down the bed to Steve, wrapping his lips around the offering. He sucked eagerly, groaning at the taste, and Steve's eyes darkened in response. And you watched it all happen with half-lidded eyes, already feeling desire pool again within you.

Steve gently pulled his finger away, and Eddie followed it, not wanting to let it go. But then Steve leaned down and pressed his lips against Eddie's. It must've felt good, because then they tried to swallow each other whole, hands coming up to grip waists, shoulders, hair, before they found their spots: Steve's on the back of Eddie's neck and Eddie's on Steve's lower back. They pulled at each other endlessly.

You whimpered at the beautiful sight, and that broke them apart, giving all their attention to you. You shivered under their combined stares, knowing they weren't close to being done.

You were proven correct when you saw the wicked glint that had been in Eddie's eye now shining in Steve's. "Don't worry, my love," your breath hitched at the pet name, "we haven't forgotten about you. Right, baby?" By the end of the question, Steve was looking back at Eddie, who was hanging on by a thread after hearing "baby" fall out of Steve's lips and directed at him. He nodded with a whimper. Steve smirked, knowing he had the upper hand now, and moved his hand to Eddie's hair. He tugged lightly, but Eddie's head fell back like he'd been pushed. "Good."

At that point, you'd gotten some of your strength back, so you sat up and grabbed the hem of Steve's shirt. "Stevie," you whined. He looked down at you with an eyebrow raised and adoration in his gaze. "My turn."

"Your turn for what, beautiful?"

You seemed to shiver anytime Steve addressed you by a pet name, and this time was no different. "To kiss you."

Steve nodded and leaned down, still holding onto Eddie's hair and moving the free hand to cup your cheek. When he was a hair's breadth away, he whispered so the words would fall across your lips, "I've been wanting to do this for so long."

You melted and combusted at the same time. "Me too," you replied, and surged up to meet him. He moaned against your lips as they pressed against his. They were soft and sweet and a perfect fit. You never wanted to stop. All you wanted to do for the rest of your life was kiss Steve and Eddie, one after the other, again and again, that was it. You slid your hands under his shirt and lightly brushed across the skin and muscle. In response, he flicked his tongue across your bottom lip and you opened your mouth to him. His tongue pushed in and started to map your mouth like it had your pussy. You could taste the sweetness he'd loved so much and you dove it to chase it further.

Eventually, Steve broke away. You were all panting, eye contact electric between you. Steve took a breath and asked, "How is everyone?" Ever the most caring boy in the world.

"Good," you replied breathlessly.

"I'm great," Eddie answered eagerly and you shot him a look.

Steve laughed quietly. "It's not a competition."

"But I'm winning, clearly."

Before you could shoot a sarcastic comment in his direction, Steve pulled Eddie's hair so his head went back and his neck was exposed. "Oh?" The dark look was back in his eye. "Is that so? What do you think, angel?"

You hummed, watching as Eddie's stare bounced between you and Steve, desperation growing in his expression, hand going to palm his crotch. "I don't know if he's winning per-say...but I think he's been a good boy for us. Haven't you, my love?" Eddie nodded as much as he could with Steve holding his head back. "Yes, such a good boy, letting Stevie eat me out and letting me cum. Don't you think he deserves a reward?"

You gave Steve your best puppy dog eyes and he sighed shakily at the sight. "Now that you mention it," he replied, voice a tiny bit strangled, "he has been a good boy. I think it's time we give him some relief." You nodded at him. "And since I already got to experience your pretty pussy tonight, I think it's only fair Eddie does too. How does that sound?" He grabbed your chin and pushed your head back to mirror Eddie's. "Would you like our good boy here to fuck you? Make you cum again?" Eddie whimpered at the use of "our" just like you had, and you nodded at Steve desperately.

"Yes, please," you breathed out and Steve smiled sweetly. He kissed you and Eddie before letting go and moving so Eddie could take his spot. He was about to leave the bed when you grabbed his hand. He looked at you and you tugged him towards the top of the bed, motioning for him to sit behind you. "I'm a good girl, remember?" You asked, teasing gently. You turned so you were on all fours, ass high up in the air towards Eddie, who squeezed it hard. That made you arch your back and you gave Steve a coy but knowing look. "Let me be your good girl."

Both Eddie and Steve rushed to get rid of their pants and underwear while you waited patiently, looking over your shoulder at them. Within seconds they were back on the bed, at either end of you. The three of you together—it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Eddie pressed two fingers into you and you keened at the feeling. He leaned down and kissed up your spine to soothe as you got used to the stretch once more. Steve slid in and sat in front of you, cock red and hard and already leaking. You dropped your head and used the tip of your tongue to lap up the white bead of pre-cum. You heard Steve's head hit the headboard along with a loud groan, and so you did it again—this time adding a swirl of your tongue around the head of his cock.

"Fuck," he swore, the sound seemingly echoing throughout the large room, making you wetter. Eddie took the opportunity and added a third finger to the two that were fucking you nice and slow and deep. You moaned around Steve's cock, halfway into your mouth, and the vibration made him jerk his hips up and push it in all the way. You gagged at the sudden pressure in your throat, but he was quick to bring his hips back down. "Sorry, angel," he whispered.

You swallowed the spit that'd gathered in your mouth. "S'fine." Looking up at Steve with doe eyes, you continued, "I can do it."

He smiled softly and kissed your forehead. "I know you can. You're going to take both of our cocks so well, baby. Right?"

You whined and nodded, bringing your head down again and taking Steve all the way into your mouth. "Oh my god," he groaned out.

"No gods here," Eddie smirked, fingers speeding up and curling to hit just the right place inside of you to make you cry out around Steve's cock. "Just a good girl who's about to create the most beautiful spit-roast imaginable." He removed his fingers and before you could whine about the loss, you felt the head of his cock press against your cunt. He dragged it through your slit, hitting your clit now and then, enough to make you whimper but nothing else.

Then he slowly pushed his cock inside you, letting you adjust as he moved inch by inch. "So tight," he praised. "Always so tight for my cock. Such a good girl."

You shuddered at the praise and being filled up. Steve spread his hands in your hair to help move your head so you could keep sucking him off. When Eddie bottomed out and you could feel the press of his hips against your ass, he stopped and just reveled in the feeling.

"You're so beautiful," Steve said as if in awe. "You're both so beautiful." You knew he and Eddie must be staring at each other as they both fucked you and you moaned at the thought. You pushed back a little on Eddie, giving him permission to move. He gradually pulled out and then pushed back in hard and fast. You choked around Steve's cock but didn't stop sucking his cock.

"Look at you, taking us both so well," Eddie cooed in a strained voice. His hips quickened, making Steve speed up your head movement. You were just between them, letting them use you for their own pleasure, and you'd never felt more perfect in your life.

Steve panted hard. "M'gonna cum," he managed, and you wrapped your lips tighter around him and sucked harder. "Oh, fuck, baby." You took him all the way, deep into your throat, and swallowed around him. He jerked and you quickly retreated so you wouldn't gag. His cum shot into your mouth and you did your best to swallow it all, some of it leaking down your chin. Steve slowed and eventually stopped your motion, extending his orgasm as much as he could, and then lifted your head so it was level with his. "That was amazing."

You smiled and used a finger to wipe the cum from your cheek and into your mouth, sucking on the digit while staring at him. He already looked wrecked and that was just the icing on the cake.

And then a hand, adorned with big silver rings, wrapped itself around your throat and pulled you back.

Your back came flush with Eddie's chest and you cried out from the change in position. His cock was hitting deeper now, and rubbing that specific little spot over and over again.

"Hi, princess." Eddie's voice was right next to your ear. "Having fun?"

You nodded.

"Ah ah ah, I wanna hear you say it. Let Steve and I hear everything," Eddie directed and then bit down on your pulse point.

"Oh, fuck! Yes, yes, yes," you cried. "Feels so good."

Eddie's wicked chuckle tickled your neck. "It does? Well, I think pretty boy here can help you feel even better."

Next thing you knew, Steve was kneeling right in front of you, hands pressing into your waist. He looked exhausted but there was still a hungry look in his eyes. Then he moved his hands up and grabbed at your tits, rolling the nipples in his fingers harshly. You dropped your head onto Eddie's shoulder, keening, feeling like you could explode.

"Look at us, angel," Steve said gently, and you turned your head so you could see them. They leaned into each other and kissed wildly. Both sets of their hands tightened on you and you whimpered. Your orgasm was on the horizon; it was a tsunami and headed towards you fast. Steve took one hand and dragged it through Eddie's hair, pulling him even closer. You felt his lips on your neck, here and there, and you knew he was marking up both you and Eddie, marking you as his. You leaned your head to the opposite side so he would have more space to create his art.

His other hand slowly slid down and then two fingers started rubbing fast circles on your clit. "Oh, god!" You shouted.

Steve leaned away, and Eddie retightened his grip and focused on drilling his cock into you, harder and faster and deeper. "That's it, baby," he said. "Cum for us."

You lifted your head and locked eyes with Steve. He nodded, a half-smirk on his face, and that was it. The tsunami hit and wiped everything out.

"Holy shit!" Eddie groaned as you clenched hard around him. You let out whines as he kept fucking you and Steve kept rubbing your clit, prolonging your pleasure to the maximum limit. Three, four, five hits later and Eddie was cumming too, his hips stuttering but still thrusting as he rode out the high.

At some point, he slowed to a stop and pulled out. You collapsed forward and Steve caught you, moving you so you could lay on the bed. He set you down gently and pressed kisses to your face. Eddie flopped down next to you and did the same as Steve. You giggled tiredly.

You were in heaven.

Then Steve was getting up and walking into the en-suite bathroom. You heard water running and then stop and Steve reappeared, carrying a warm wet towel. He gently cleaned you and Eddie up, then himself, then tossed it into the dirty laundry hamper. He was about to lay back down when there came a meow from outside the door. Steve walked over and opened it, and Sweet Potato emerged from the hallway. He rubbed against Steve's leg before jumping onto the bed, curling up in his regular spot, and falling asleep.

All three of you laughed quietly. Steve closed the door and returned to the bed. He climbed in and laid between you and Sweet Potato, with Eddie on the other side of you. You pulled up the comforter and got cozy.

"I don't know if this actually needs to be asked now," Eddie said, sounding worn out, "but I'm gonna do it anyway. Steve, would you like to date me and Y/N? The both of us, together?"

You looked at Steve and smiled. "'Cause we wanna date you," you finished.

It was pretty dark in the room, but you thought you saw a tear or two shining in his eyes. "I would love to date you, both of you, together."

Eddie sighed. "Thank god."

"I thought there weren't any gods here?" Steve teased.

"Oh, shut up."

You and Steve laughed. You looked up at the ceiling, feeling like you were on cloud 9. "This feels too good to be true."

"Well, it's true," Steve said.

"Finally," Eddie sighed. You felt both of their eyes on you. It gave you indescribable joy to know they were looking at you, and each other, the same way you and Eddie would. Like they were the most important person in the world. Like you couldn't live without them. Like they were the key to your happiness, and you to theirs.

You gave each of them a kiss and then turned on your side towards Eddie. Steve shifted behind you, and you felt his body pressed up against you from behind. His arm snaked around your waist and held on tight. "Is this okay?" He asked.

"Ha!" You yelled, startling both boys and the cat. They all stared at you and you looked back at Eddie triumphantly. "I told you Steve would cuddle me!"

Eddie laughed. He gave you a kiss and said, "You sure did, babe."

You all settled down again, and you covered Steve's arm with your own to keep him against you. "What was that?" He asked, sounding more confused than ever.

You giggled. "I'll tell you in the morning. Promise."

#steve harrington x eddie munson x reader #steddie x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #mine

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