#i think heavy could break every bone in this mans body if he wanted to

[jaratedeguadalupe]

i reckon you can't but i think he'd let you in a heartbeat no pun intended

#feel free to try to prove me wrong #you won't change my mind #i think heavy could break every bone in this mans body if he wanted to #medic is into that fyi #naturally #heavymedic #red oktoberfest #tf2 #tf2 medic #tf2 heavy

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR TWENTY TWO

in which eddie is honest. for real, this time.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, discussion of/allusions to smut from last chapter, angst, not edited (what's new though), upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 11.1k+

→ a/n: welp. this... yeah, this is a lot. i truly hope it's worth it. in the waiting, anticipation, and length. if it isn't... my bad. i'm sorry in advance. also, please note, pov change only applies to the memory.

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

22:00 ──────────────ㅇ─ 24:00

His regret turns to pain as you whisper, “What did you just say?”

—

HOUR TWENTY TWO – 1:00 PM

You can’t speak. It’s as if you’re frozen; every muscle, including your tongue, has gone rigid. Every racing thought escapes just beyond your reach. Every single one of the last twenty two hours pound behind your rib cage, and you think you might just faint. Right here, right now. The blood rushes your ears as your body goes ice cold, and even the railing cutting into your palm seems to drift away from you. 

“I’m sorry.” 

He doesn’t even try to deny it. He knows you heard what he said – he can’t take it back. It’s written plainly on his face that if he could, he would swallow back down those disastrous words. He’d grab that destruction four letter word right out of the air, no doubt, and set it aflame. He’d blow away the ash if he could guarantee you would have never heard it.

But he can’t. You heard him. 

I’ve loved you for so long. 

Everything is heavy. The air, your limbs, your godforsaken tongue. 

“Say something,” he suddenly begs. You’ve never seen Eddie look so desperate, eyes wet and voice cracking, “Anything.” 

You want to answer him. Your bones ache with the need – the need to reply, the need to question, the need to do anything but stare at him with what he must surely mistake for horror.

Were you horrified? Were you?

You don’t know. 

It’s why you can’t answer him. 

“I-” he starts up again, breaking down even further right before your eyes. You want to reach out, to coddle him, to tell him it’s fine. But it’s not fine. 

You don’t even get the chance to ruminate on just how not fine it is, or that heat beginning to come to a boil in the pit of your stomach, because the sound of one of the neighbors exiting out onto their own balcony interrupts the infinitely delicate moment. 

“Hey there, Eds-” You don’t know what actually interrupts the gruff man that steps out, who exudes familiarity with Eddie until he takes in the scene before him. 

Eddie, completely fucking naked. You, with only a shirt on. If it weren’t for the moment at hand and the trembling emotions coming to fruition inside of you, you’d probably find it comical. You’d probably find a way to join in the old man’s single guffaw before the two of you meet each other’s gaze and become aware of what exactly is happening.

But it’s not funny. You’re both fucking naked — physically and emotionally — and it’s not funny.

You’re mortified as both of you are scrambling across the balcony, a whirlwind of discarded clothes fisted and nearly tripping over each other to shove back into Eddie’s living room. That embarrassment now trickles down into the start of a boil, everything in you becoming red-hot from how flustered you’ve become and the way you can’t have a second to just process it all. 

When you turn to face Eddie once the sliding door has slammed shut, his cheeks are the brightest pink imaginable. 

“What the fuck,” you whisper out, trying to steady your breathing, trying to take it all in. 

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Your adrenaline is almost making you sick. 

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he catches your whisper amongst your stoic silence and seems to forget the moment that his neighbor had just shattered, voice clear as day as he pulls his curtains shut. You swear you catch the old man still staring, still laughing, and you’re just grateful that you’re not the one completely nude, “I had no idea Mr. Jenkins would come outside, usually none of those fuckers see the light of day before sundow-”

“Your neighbor just saw us naked,” you almost scream. You want to shout, want to throw everything in sight. You crave to flip that coffee table in the center of the room and throw a fit that outdoes even the most petulant of toddlers.

“I know, I-“

“If you say sorry again, I’m walking back out there,” you take a deep breath, but it does nothing to calm you’re shaking body, “And I’m throwing myself off the fucking balcony.”

Maybe you’ll be able to laugh about it in five years. A year, even. Hell, a month or as soon as next week. But you can’t right now; all you want to do is cry.

Some random man just saw you naked. Eddie apparently fucking loves you. 

It might be the sleep deprivation and it might be the fact that it feels like the Universe is laughing in your face at every turn right now. Whatever higher power exists seems to be waiting around every corner for the chance to kick you repeatedly as you stumble to this finish line. And you can’t fucking take it.

So you give in. You give in to that childish need to stomp your feet and scream until you’re blue in your lips.

“I just- Fuck!” Eddie jumps a bit at your exclamation, he’s still naked, “I can’t catch a break! I can’t catch a fucking break. First, I’m showing up here, and I’m stuck with you for twenty four hours. I’m stuck with the man I hate for a whole fucking day,” you’re full on pacing, not caring how ridiculous this scene would appear to anyone. Your hands wave erratically in the space around you, and all Eddie can do is stare, tense with wide eyes, “And I cry in front of you, have full breakdowns in front of you. I listen to you remind me over and over how much you truly despise only to now suddenly find out that, hey! I actually love you! And do I get to process that? No. Because now, some fucking old man that lives next door to you has seen my goddamn vag-“ 

Eddie’s entire demeanor collapses. “Oh, so now I’m back to being the man you hate?” 

You pause your ranting, realizing what you’ve said. 

You’re just angry. You should have thought before you spoke, before you opened your mouth and began to spew your venom, because you can see the way the words have struck Eddie. Not your intention.

“I didn’t mean that.”

“But you said that,” he flatly argues back. 

Your stomach twists.

“I’m just-“ your tongue is back to being heavy as the two of you face one another. Feet apart, worlds apart. “I’m fucking embarrassed, Eddie.” 

“You think I’m not?” he scowls, and you try to tell your racing heart it’s a good sign. But it’s not. You almost preferred his walls dividing the two of you, “Shit fucking happens. We got caught — we fucking dirty talked about getting caught! Big fucking deal! Karmic justice or whatever bullshit people spew. It doesn’t mean I’m going to- It doesn’t change-“ he’s stuttering now, matching that exasperation that had you pacing just moments before. He huffs, a hand reaching up and dragging his bangs upward, harsh at the root as he finally drops his hands in his own defeat, palms slapping his sides, “Everything changes. You said that, not me. You said everything changes, and all it takes is a little bit of fucking embarrassment to go back on your word?” 

He’s still fucking naked. You still can’t think.

“I’m not having this conversation with you naked,” you whisper, almost in disbelief as you shake your head, “I’m- Put your fucking clothes on. Please.” 

“Put my clothes on?” he scoffs, taking a step closer to you, “Put my clothes on? Do you mean the same clothes you just insisted I take off not even ten minutes ago?” 

“We were having sex!” you yell. You’re sure if the old man is no longer on his balcony, he can hear you through the walls. Hell, even if he is still outside, it’s likely he hears the screaming match beginning, “Why- Why are you turning this on me right now? You just said you fucking love me! The least of our issues right now is me telling you to get fucking dressed!” 

“Why are you lashing out at me right now?” Eddie’s voice is louder than yours, something more broken inside of it, “I-“

“Clothes,” you grit out, avoiding his eyes as you start to yank your panties on violently, “Now.” 

You can still feel him. His essence is dripping between your thighs. And you don’t find any sense of enjoyment in it, you don’t savor that quick-fading warmth nor the reminder of the pleasure he’d just brought you. It just reminds you of the words he had said all while not even looking you in the eyes. He couldn’t even face you as he had admitted it. 

One thing at a time, you try to remind yourself. One fucking thing at a time. 

Eddie’s own redressing is another sight that maybe, hopefully, one day you’ll look back on and laugh at. But right now, it can’t spark any amusement in you. Not as all your emotions slam back into you at full force.

You’re embarrassed. You’re confused. You’re angry.

“Happy?” he spits out once his boxers are on, shirt tugged back on so hard over his head that his curls frizz up.

“No,” your eyes are burning, and you feel it again. All those desperate emotions. Like a wild animal inside of you has begun to claw at your insides, making you bleed from the inside out. 

Eddie loves you — and he has, for a long time, apparently.  

Eddie’s neighbor has seen you naked. Saw your full bottom half exposed.

You’ve managed to hurt Eddie’s feelings, again.

Eddie fucking loves you and never thought to mention it. He has for a long time.

All your tempered strings snap, that wild and stricken thing inside of you finally cutting loose.

You don’t know what you’re angry at. You’re angry at him, and yet you’re not. You’re angry at the situation, and yet you’re not. You are bitter from words withheld and you are sour from every moment that paves the road that brought you two to this very moment.

You’re just angry.

“What did you mean?” the question comes out sharply enough to make his own defiant anger fade ever so slightly as he physically flinches, “I- I need to know what the Hell you meant, Eddie.” 

Anger is metallic on your tongue. It seeps from your skin, floods the air, only further dampens everything already so heavy. 

The longer he doesn’t answer you, the more smothering the entirety of the apartment becomes.

“Just tell me. Make it make sense, because right now?” you pause for a deep and shaky breath. Your eyesight is blurry now. Eyes red rimmed with tears that will surely sear your cheeks if they find the nerve to be shed, “Right now, I don’t get it. Over and over and over again, you have reminded me that you hate me. Prior to tonight, it was safe to assume that scorning my existence was one of your favorite pastimes. And I know, I get it — everything has changed. But- But-“ 

How can anything change if you weren’t honest to begin with? 

Did anything change for him? While you were discovering and tending to sore feelings that had been festering for a while but had never seen the light of day, was he only nursing an old wound? 

“But what?” his voice drops low. His entire demeanor has dropped, cowering down before you. His head dips down, his shoulders droop with prepared rejection, you watch the man before you, the man you had just let defile you and the man you had just worshiped on your goddamn knees, turn to dust.

A shaky gasp. Wobbly knees. The blood rushes through your ears again, flushing out any noise except the two of you breathing out of sync. His deep breaths, accepting and welcoming a rejection he was so sure he was receiving. Your shallow breaths, panting and rapid and trying to just get everything to slow the fuck down.

You were right. Once the tears shed, they burn a trail of Hellish fury right down the center of each cheek. “When I say everything has changed between us, what does that mean to you?” 

He’s undressing an old wound, an open slash that seems to be unable to form a scab. You’re pressing on bruises, aching parts of you that had purpled from his neglect long ago. It’s clear as day now — the difference.

You no longer care about the embarrassment of being caught.

“What do you want it to mean?” 

“Don’t do that,” the tears fall faster now. You can’t even begin to dig into this chasm of emotions. Are you angry at him? Are you disappointed by the circumstances? Do you love him? “I want an answer — I need your answer. You promised me your honesty, so give me it. Now.” 

His eyes meet yours, and your entire world seems to fold into itself, “It… doesn’t mean much. It doesn’t change much.” 

Everything has only changed for you. 

“So it means nothing, then? You have me at your disposal, you have me on my fucking knees for you, you tell me you fucking love me, and it all means nothing?” 

You’re twisting his words and you know it. But you can’t help it, can’t stop it. 

“I never said that!” his voice is no longer low and quiet. Sudden worry creases beside his eyes as his mouth goes slack in shock, “I never said it meant nothing.” 

“But it doesn’t mean much, right?” You hate your wet cheeks. You hate the way everything in you is somehow slow-breaking, yet suddenly shattering. An unnerving juxtaposition that is drowning you and sending you reeling over and over again, “It doesn’t change much, right? Because when I said that, Eddie, I meant it – everything fucking changed for me. It wasn’t- It’s not- This isn’t just some throwaway thing to me. Not even a day ago, I thought I had to hate you with everything I had. I thought I had to hate you.”

And I don’t. Not even a little bit. Even right now, when I should. 

“Is that what you think I’m saying?” his voice is low where your voice has risen, his face calm where yours has gone stormy. 

Where you’re on fire, he’s treading still waters. The opposite dilemma that has always existed, and the one you had the nerve to see as poetic. But water meeting flames is never poetic. It never ends well. You should have seen that coming from a mile away.

“What am I supposed to think?” you also quiet your tone to match his. You wonder if the neighbors really had heard a thing. You almost hope they had, that this argument is affecting someone else’s day the way it’s affecting you, “You’re standing here, and you’re telling me it doesn’t mean much, and-“

“It doesn’t change much,” he corrects, and you’re now the one flinching at the crack in his voice. “Not for me. Not when I-“

Not when I’ve loved you for so long.

He can’t even finish his own sentence.

“So what does it change?” you throw your hands out in exasperation, “If it doesn’t change much, what has it changed?” 

There it is again — his silence, your anger. 

“Is it not enough to just know it changes something?” 

If you were stupid, you’d take his tone as pleading. You’d mistake it for begging. But you can’t. For all your fury, you can’t believe that he’s actually stooped so low as to beg for you, especially after what he’s just said. Time and time again, you had repeatedly cracked yourself wide open for him, and he’d managed to rip your heart right out of your chest with such a simply yet damning statement. The most casually cruel bit of honesty he had offered you yet tonight: that nothing changes.

“We’re back to square one,” you choke out in realization, “I- Fuck. This entire time, you weren’t honest with me.” 

He opens his mouth quickly, and for a second you believe he’ll offer an explanation that can soothe over the ache. He’ll come up with an excuse that you can buy, he’ll explain himself in a way that proves you wrong, and the sweet oblivious bliss can return. 

“No,” he says instead after careful consideration, “I wasn’t honest with you.” 

Your tears are running rampant as you only nod slowly, pressing your lips together in defeat, “Awesome. Great,” you reach up, sniffling as you swipe at your nose, still silently quiet but no longer awarding him with any display of your rage, of your hurt, of anything but your acceptance, “No, really, that’s- Cool. Nothing changes. I get it.” 

I’ve loved you for so long. 

It didn’t make sense, but you don’t have it in you to dissect it any further. He had loved you the entire time, and still set out to make you bleed. His grand admission doesn’t change a single fucking thing. 

You don’t say another word as you grab your pair of jeans up into your fist, being sure to move slowly and not in the haste every nerve in your body calls for. You need to leave – you need out of this apartment, and you need to never see Eddie Munson again. It wouldn’t be a far leap from what your friends already deal with. If the friendships take blows of damage from it, so be it-

“Where are you going?” he asks, standing stiller than a statue as he watches you.

You grab your bag, “I’m leaving. The deal’s off. Or- I don’t know. Tell them the bet’s off-”

“The bet is not off-”

“It is,” you turn to him, absolutely frozen in your resolution, “It really, really is. You can even fucking lie to them if you want, I don’t care. Figure out a way to get the money but I don’t want it. I’m done.” 

“So that’s it?” he scoffs in disbelief. When you pull on your jeans, when you sling your bag back over your shoulder and begin to walk to the counter where your phone was left, he realizes that it’s really happening. He realizes you’re truly done, “No questions? I just told you I wasn’t fucking honest, and you’re just going to walk away, not even demand I tell the tru-”

“I’m tired of pulling the truth from you,” you finally move with some of the aggression you felt, hand smacking the counter beside your phone, “If you care so much, if you love me, I shouldn’t have to beg until my knees bleed for you to actually be honest with me,” you take your phone, shoving it into your back pocket before you look at him, “I can’t keep doing this. You were always right. They’re your friends. Congratulations, you got what you always said you wanted. You won’t have to deal with me anymore – consider this a farewell from your life. I’ll make sure no one invites you to my fucking funeral.” 

You assume he grabs you due to your cruel reference to his insult from the very beginning of the night, that he’s going to fight you for that bit of your oddly calm speech. But when his hands wrap around your bicep, and you face him with those silent tears still racing, what comes out of his mouth stuns you. 

“I’ll be honest,” he is pleading, he is begging, “Stay, and I’ll tell you everything. I don’t even fucking care about the bet — we can call off, everyone else can go to Hell. I don’t care about the money, I don’t care about the bet, I just-” he pauses, and you watch the desperation building taller and taller within him, “Stay and let me explain.”

You should tell him no. You should tell him to go to Hell. If you stay and hear him out, it will only end in pain for you. You should leave.

Instead, your bag begins to slip off your shoulder. 

“You have ten minutes,” you whisper as his hand finally releases its grip, “Explain.”

—

SIX MONTHS EARLIER - EDDIE’S POV

If he were smart, Eddie would’ve kept his word.

He’d told them he wasn’t showing up. He’d told them he had work (not a complete lie), and that he wouldn’t make it tonight. He just hadn’t felt like drinking anymore — not since two weeks prior, when he’d gotten black out drunk while hanging out with Nancy, throwing his own personal pity party. 

Pathetic.

It wasn’t just that killer headache that had been haunting Eddie since that night. It was much more than that; it was solid and palpable regret. He’d thrown back too many beers, mixed it with some sort of wine coolers that Nancy offered him once he started to feel the buzz. All it took was just a bit too much alcohol in his system, and suddenly, his rant that Nancy had agreed to indulge him in became so much more. One moment, he was just complaining about you. And the next, he was rambling, letting less harsh words slip between the complaints, more compliments than things he wanted you to change. One wine cooler in, and he was no longer complaining about the way everyone had been fawning over you after a full six months of friendship, but instead the way that your sad eyes and pouting lips following him around a room was cosmically unfair. 

He didn’t remember much of the rest of the night, and he was glad when Nancy had given him a pitiful look over the cups of coffee she offered. 

He’d told her. He knew he’d admitted his stupid, annoying, despicable crush on you to her. Probably whined about the way you and Harrington had clearly had something going on. Definitely spoke too much about how badly he wanted to experience your gentle hand in his calloused one, or to feel your arms wrap around his neck in greeting rather than daggers from your glare every time he entered a room. Hell, he’s sure there was a good thirty minute period amongst the fuzzy memories where he’d sat on the edge of tears as he continued to mumble about how he wasn’t good enough for you.

Nancy Wheeler, his best friend, finally knew. Six fucking months of keeping it under wraps, and Eddie Munson had finally slipped up.

And she clearly hasn’t forgotten as Eddie had prayed she would every single night as she’s the one to answer his knocks on Steve’s door, grinning with the hidden knowledge.

She’d texted him with one last plea for him to show up. Insisted everyone was here. Went so far as to make him a list, and made sure to add your name at the end. It had been phrased like an afterthought on the screen, but he knew her too well. He knew Nancy purposefully mentioned you.

“Munson! Finally! It took you long enough,” she squeals, clearly already halfway to drunk before she quiets down, “And you said you weren’t coming. Wonder what, or who, changed your mind.” 

“Fuck off.” 

It had been a bad day. Work, classes, a phone call with Wayne that had just left Eddie disheartened and terribly homesick. It was selfish, but the thought of seeing you in passing tonight, even if you did seem to dislike him just as he had intended, made it all a bit more bearable. 

Coming home. Seeing you felt like coming home, even if you’d slammed the front door on his face.

He follows Nancy down the hall, a pit growing in the bottom of his stomach, heavy as ever. He shouldn’t have even wanted to see you. The last time he had seen you, you’d been out for blood, blatantly ruining a date he’d managed to bag with Chrissy Cunningham. Chrissy, who never gave him the time of day in high school. Chrissy, who was clearly set on using him as a rebound during yet another break from Jason. Chrissy, who’s only flaw wasn't just the fact that she wasn’t you.

“Eddie, my man!” Argyle greets Eddie the moment he enters the living room. He’s lounging on the couch, Jonathan to his right and a space where Nancy clearly had occupied now empty. 

Eddie nods, still feeling the week weighing him down. No sight of you yet, “Hey, man.” 

He just wanted to see you. One glimpse, preferably before you’ve caught sight of him, and he’d be fine. He’d learned to live with those fleeting moments the last six months, he could keep it up for just a bit longer.

He’d get over you eventually. Even if it killed him.

He had to give his plan time to work. So far, he’d done well, easily offering you a cold shoulder and nothing more after that first night. It wasn’t easy — he doesn’t think anyone would find the task of being cool towards someone as radiant as you easy — but he’d done it. Brick by brick, his wall of invincibility was standing tall and strong between you two. It was safer this way, he had to remind himself. It was better to run off of brief glances of your smiles and laughter never directed at him than to risk anything more. He’d only disappoint you, or you’d magically disappoint him, and it would end in bloodshed. Someone like you, someone so good and kind and easy to gravitate towards, would leave Eddie broken beyond damage. 

You didn’t go for guys like Eddie. Steve had made that clear since day one.

Eddie takes the loveseat as Nancy returns to Jonathan’s side. He tries to make it subtle, the way he twists his head to glance around the room as he removes his jacket, eyes roaming until he finds you. In the kitchen, with Steve and Robin, tense back telling him you’d already noticed his arrival.

So much for seeing you smile.

He tries to keep up with the conversation going on. Argyle and Jonathan are having some sort of debate about aliens, nothing short of heated and passionate, and he’d normally be jumping in without hesitation. But his eyes can’t stop flickering to the kitchen and each time, he can see you downing even more alcohol. He knows you don’t like him, but did you hate him that much?

“You’re awfully quiet,” Nancy leans over to whisper as Jonathan grows in volume about another branch of a conspiracy theory.

“Just tired,” he flatly replies. He’s suddenly itching to get his hands onto some alcohol of his own. Fuck the lessons he should’ve learned a few weeks ago. Fuck his regret in confiding in Nancy.

“Was work rough?”

He hums pathetically in response, eyes glued to the kitchen still. To you.

Nancy’s eyes finally follow his focus, “Have you… I don’t know, ever tried just talking to her?”

He snaps from his daze at that, head turning quickly to Nancy, “I talk to her all the time.” 

“You do not.”

“I do too.”

“Never nicely,” she points out, narrowing her eyes, “You’re like a little boy on the playground, tugging on her pigtails until she figures it ou-“ 

“I don’t want her to figure it out,” he cuts off the assumption, eyes widening in horror at the thought, “Christ, Nance. I thought I made that clear when I ended up shitfaced on your couch.” 

Nancy softens. She can see what’s happening here, see every dampening thought that weighs Eddie down. He might not remember his drunken rambles, but she does. 

“The only thing you made clear is what a spectacular ass you’re making out of yourself,” her words hold no bite, only truth, “Who cares what Steve said that night? He was drunk.” 

“So was I,” Eddie’s eyes are back on you, palms running up his outer thighs until he curls them to fists by his hips, “I was drunk when I talked to you about her. Forget about it.” 

Surprisingly, his stubborn best friend leaves it be. Puts the pointless argument to rest.

Eddie’s feelings can’t rest, though. 

Every night, he tells himself it’ll all go away. The distance will make his heart grow harder, and he’ll eventually be able to wash himself of you one of these days. And every night, all the feelings you’ve sprouted inside of him only teem their way higher, up into his throat and choking him with every last breath before he falls asleep. He can’t forget those first few weeks, the way you seemed to think his coldness was a phase. You’d tried so desperately to seek him out at every function, sparked so many failed conversations with him that left him to burn. Every smile you’d offered him during that time, he’d taken for granted.

Even last week, when you’d interrupted his date, he’d let himself relish in the memory of your attention. Pathetic. 

Had you been jealous? Had you just been spiteful, finally giving him a taste of his own medicine? He couldn’t decide, wouldn’t let himself linger on the reasoning. But he’d remembered your touch, could still feel it scarring his skin wherever your palm of fingertips had rested as you’d scared off Chrissy. He’d even hesitated in the shower that night, pausing for a moment before washing over the shoulder you’d gripped when you’d first approached their table and embarrassed him without care. 

He deserved your spite. 

And he deserves to have to overhear the conversation you’re currently having in the kitchen. You’re going on and on about all the men you’ve had dates with, detailing out every one night stand for Steve and Robin who listen with eager ears.

It makes his stomach churn and twist sharply. Each new man you bring to your roster makes his throat burn with jealousy, plain and simple. And he knows it written all over his face when Nancy leans over and puts a hand on his knee, giving him a concerned look. 

Even the change of topic between Argyle and Jonathan on goddamn Bigfoot can’t overtake the sharp cut of your bragging. 

“I’ve never seen your eyes so green, Eddie.” 

He’s about to snipe back that his eyes are brown, and be unnecessarily cruel from his sour mood, when he realizes what she means.

“I’m not jealous,” he lies through his teeth.

“You very much are.” 

He doesn’t have it in him to bicker back and forth about this again. Not about you, and not with Nancy, “What does it matter? Like I said, me and her? Never gonna happen.”

He had said that. He remembers that, at least, from his drunken confession. He’s sure he reiterated that point several times once he’d made it past the point of coherency. 

“She’s lying,” Nancy casually whispers, pulling her hand back, “She- Us girls talk, you know? Just… she’s lying.” 

“I went on a date with Chrissy. It doesn’t matter.” 

And she has no clue how fucking hung up on her I am. She’ll never know if I have anything to do with it.

“You can keep saying that,” Nancy glances, making sure their other two friends on the couch are still too deep in conversation to listen in, “But we both know that’s not true.” 

Unsurprising. Even if Nancy hadn’t listened to him cry that night about all his miserable yearning, all his unrequited feelings born out of a mess he got himself into, she would have known. Eddie has tried to guard himself when it comes to you, but there’s some times his leashed affection can’t help but seep out. 

Whenever you stumble on sidewalks beside him, his arms and hands are the first to fly out. Whenever the group has gone out to bars altogether, he watches you like a hawk, almost daring the men surrounding you to disrespect you. Whenever your birthday came around, he’d bought that damn gift card to his favorite coffee shop, all because he saw you frequent it twice. Although, to be fair, he’d made Harrington be the messenger there. He wouldn’t have been able to look you in your eye, wouldn’t have been able to put up the bitter persona on a day that should be special to you. He didn’t want to ruin your birthday, so he’d simply sat on the sidelines. Let everyone else go out and celebrate with you. Let everyone else pour enough affection into your cup, even when he wishes his own could have been the final drops to cause it to overfill. 

He had to tread carefully. It’d be too easy — to let himself pour out all these silly feelings and meaningless attraction. One wrong move, and he’d cause his own undoing. His own destruction. It doesn’t matter if it would be by your hand; he’d only have himself to blame at the end of the day.

He’s lost in thought, still itching for a drink, when Nancy is suddenly standing over him. “We’re going out for a smoke, you in?” 

He shakes his head numbly. His mind is far away now, getting lost in all that he’s done wrong, all that he can’t have. 

He’s homesick. He’s watched the way you’ve interacted with Robin and Steve the entire night, and he’s goddamn homesick for a home that he’ll never hold the keys to. 

“You sure, man?” Argyle asks him, wiggling his brows, “I brought the good shit.” 

Numbing his mind with drugs. It’s tempting.

“I’m good,” he reaffirms, still speaking in monotone. He doesn’t have the energy to put up a brave face, too focused on his heavy chest and that miserable pit in his gut still. 

And everyone leaves. He’s sure there’s something poetic for his stormy mind to pick up on there, as he watches his friends gather without him and exit to the outside, but he’s more focused on a miniscule detail.

You’re not with them.

Meaning you’re still in the kitchen.

And God, he really should know better. He should stay planted in his seat and he should sit in his misery until they all return. Only trouble can come from not doing so. But then his body moves to its own accord, fueled by something wickedly cruel and terribly homesick as he grabs one of the bottles of beer off the coffee table. It’s Nancy’s, he’s sure of it. Her lipstick stains the opposite side of the rim he takes a swig from. The beer has long since gone lukewarm, but beggars can’t be choosers. He clears his throat as the bitter lingers on his tongue.

He should know better.

But he doesn’t. He really, really doesn’t as he enters the kitchen. You’re on your phone as he stands in the doorway, and there’s no time to hide what you’d been glancing over.

A dating app.

You spin to face him, and he imagines a world where your eyes land on him and light up. Something akin to that first night, to those first few weeks. Where you look at him with purpose, and he sees relief flood your irises rather than irritation or fear. 

No such luck. He only has himself to blame.

He can’t think of anything else to say, so like an idiot, he gestures vaguely with the bottle of beer towards your phone, “Those apps fucking suck.” 

That jealousy is still gnawing at him. Hateful, painful, reckless. 

You look down at your phone for a second, and click to exit whatever messages you’d been on. And then you look back up at him.

“You’ve used them in the past?” you question him, but he’s still stuck on all the recounts of your escapades he’d overheard tonight. Whether or not they were true didn’t matter. All he sees when he closes his eyes is you, with other men. You, looking at someone else with purpose, relieved eyes awarded to someone more worthy.

He’s lucky he can choke out a short, “Nope,” and make it not sound strangled. 

“Okay,” your attention returns to your phone screen, and Eddie’s returns to his internal battle.

He’s jealous. So goddamn jealous it’s insufferable. It’s not your fault – he chose to push you away, he chose to lash out like a child for his own sanity and his own safety. You’d ruin him; you’ve already ruined him without even trying. If he gave up on the act, on this carefully thought out plan, he’d be beyond leftover rubble of a man. He’d be gone beyond recognition, reduced to ash and smoke. A nameless, forgotten whisper of dust that people would only point to and say, see? Look at that. That’s what becomes of you when you never learn. 

He’s pined enough in his lifetime after girls like you. Girls who were too good for him. He’d done it with Chrissy, and it was still causing him nothing but trouble. 

That burden didn’t hang over Chrissy, or over you. It was all Eddie’s own fault. Neither of you could help that he wasn’t good enough; it wasn’t either of your jobs to fix him or lower your standards for him. You’d even been kind, you’d even nearly fallen into that trap. 

It was for the better. All of it was for the better this way. 

And yet the jealousy remains. The anger still thrives between his ribs, and begs for release. 

“Why are you even still on them?” he should think over his words more carefully as they begin to roll off his tongues. He knows he’s in the wrong before he even continues, “I heard you’ve been having a shit time with the guys on there – quite the opposite of what you’ve been telling Harrington tonight, might I point out.” 

Each word is sharpened so intentionally, glinting from raking against that anger inside of him. You don’t deserve their prick. Really, he should just be comforting you the way the others do – how Robin surely was, how Steve must be. 

But it’s part of the plan. So he tampers down the jealousy and he feeds into the anger, lets it consume him. Because making you hate him is easier than letting you like him. It’s easier to watch the one you can’t have sneer at you like the enemy than let them smile at you like you’re just a friend. 

“I-” you falter in your words, and he decides to straighten his back, takes a deep breath as he slips the mask on effortlessly. He hates how easy it’s become. He hates how quickly he turns everything with you into a fight, “You win some, you lose some. It’s the nature of the app.” 

Sometimes, it’s like a game. And he can pretend that your hatred, your distaste, is also all a facade. Like the both of you are two sides of the same coin. A playful banter rather than an actual argument between two people who can’t even call themselves friends. When he looks at it like that, blinded by his delusion, it makes the ache dull. Sends it away for a few fleeting seconds, convinces himself he really can carry on this way. 

“You haven’t made it sound like you’re losing at all, tonight. I nearly started a drinking game with Nance where we took a swig every time you said you managed to pull another ‘fuck ‘em and leave ‘em’. Quite the boy count you’ve got there, player,” he forces a grin as he leans on the counter, watching his words get under your skin exactly as he had intended. 

You’re cute like this. Clearly drunk, getting flustered. He revels in the way your face physically scrunches in annoyance, the way he can watch you gear up to fight fire with fire. A sick, twisted game of cat and mouse that always can entertain him in the moment and haunt him at night. 

“You’re bluffing. You couldn’t hear me from all the way over there.”

He wonders, for a second, if you’d caught him staring at any point. He wonders if you’d even care.

“We could.”

“No, you couldn’t.”

“Yes, we could.”

“You’re lying.” 

You cross your arms, and he can’t help but watch the way they push your chest up. He can’t help but ponder on how much better it would all feel if this were really playful banter. 

He has to refrain from physically shaking the thought from his mind. 

It’s for the better. 

He narrows his eyes, he grips onto the anger again, that hidden jealousy. He should know better. He should stop it. The words even feel heavy on his tongue, terribly forced. Because his anger isn’t at you. 

“I’m lying? You’re the one who’s been telling Stevie nothing but lies tonight,” and oh, how ironic, for the liar to be calling out someone’s little white lies, “Why do you need to even lie about all that, anyways? It’s not like the truth would be any more pathetic than the act you’re putting up,” the words come out a bit easier when imagines the barrel of the gun pointed at himself, as if he were speaking so casually cruelly into a mirror rather than at you, “Everyone strikes ou-”

He’s clearly struck a nerve. And it aches, but he reminds himself that that’s the point. That’s his goal.

 “I’m pathetic? Just last week, you lied to the group. You were trying to avoid being where I’d be and told them you had to walk your neighbor’s dog.” 

He wasn’t trying to avoid you. He was trying to avoid Nancy after his entire drunken confession fiasco. 

“I did!” he continues to lie. Even with no one to show for, he piles up his lies high. Buries himself beneath them, beneath his pathetic act and worthless reasons. It’s probably for the best that you had assumed that he was avoiding you. 

“Your apartment has a strict no pet policy, Eddie.” 

The act cracks for a moment as he freezes. Why did you know about his apartment’s pet policy? 

“How do you know that?”

It can’t be because you care, or even get curious about him. He’s done everything in his power to cause the exact opposite, to make you be repulsed by him and to run the other way if you can help it. 

“I didn’t, but Nancy did,” He doesn’t even react to the roll of your eyes, unable to get riled up as he usually would at that. It clicks for him; it makes sense, because Nancy had stormed down his door not even a day later, “It’s all I had to hear about the entire night. How she wishes we could get along, how she hates when you lie to her. Thanks for that, by the way.” 

Eddie does feel guilty about that. He doesn’t mean for his own self-destructive behavior to leach out to his friends, or even you. His goal has always been to make it so that when he’s not around, he’s not even an afterthought to you. But selfishly, part of him preens at the idea of you being reminded of him, of you thinking of him when he’s not in the room with you. It’s a conundrum. It’s almost deadlier than his other option. 

“It’s not my fuckin’ fault you go out with my friends,” he grumbles like a damn child, almost pouting in his guilt. There’s another selfish sliver of him that’s also upset at that – upset at the fact everyone else gets to bloom with your friendship and positive attention, but not him. Once again, it’s his own doing. He really shouldn’t be angry at you about it. 

“And it’s not my fault that you don’t.” 

Times like these make him want to give it all up. He has to physically tense his body, tick his jaw and bite his tongue to avoid throwing the entire act to the side. He wants nothing more than to grab you by your shoulders and shake you, scream that sometimes it is your fault. But you don’t know it – you can’t read his mind, see past his intentions. 

You don’t know what Steve had so generously reminded him of that very first night. 

“Whatever. Why are you lying to Steve?” his voice is devoid of all emotion despite the storm brewing inside of him. He can’t even blame it on alcohol – he wishes he could, but his tolerance to beer can handle the single sip he’s taken. He crosses his arms, wrapping them around his body, trying to protect that terrible vulnerability only he’s aware of. When your position mirrors his, he wonders for a moment if you’re also feeling it. 

But you’ve been drinking. This entire conversation, every emotion, can be blamed on that. You’re luckier than Eddie. 

“I’m not lying.”

“You are. With Steve, and with me at this very moment.” 

He lets a reaction at his own irony slip through for a brief second, eyebrows furrowing as the voice inside him screams hypocrite! Hypocrite! Hypocrite!

He wishes he could pretend to be oblivious to why he can’t stop bringing Steve up, but he knows better. He can bury the jealousy alive, but it still bites all the same. 

“How the fuck do you even know how my dating life is going? We aren’t exactly friends. Did Robin tell you? Did Steve tell you?” 

We aren’t exactly friends. 

He should relish that confirmation that his plan is working, that you truly don’t see him as a friend, but it just fucking stings. He swallows hard physically, as if it can help him swallow down the truth any better, but it does nothing for him. The truth only continues to choke him up. His tongue has momentarily frozen over in his mouth as he tries to push past the painful reminder and wrap up this conversation. He feels it, that sharp burn of an unattended wound, and he realizes at the wrong moment that whether or not he keeps you at an arm's length, bloodshed will always occur. 

At least this way, he tells himself it’s protecting himself. This way, the knife isn’t pointed at his own heart. 

“You’re right. We aren’t friends,” the words are poison on his tongue. They taste of dirt and rust, like a grave that screams to be dug up but he has no shovel. He’d tossed it once he’d sealed the tomb, like a fool, “But Rob and Nance are, and Nance and me are. See where I’m going with that one?” 

At least he wasn’t lying to you for a brief moment. Nance had told him. He’d throw you that bone, at least. 

“Well-” and with your own pause, you seemingly return the favor. You’re handing him yet another opportunity on a silver platter; exposing an insecurity that he should let live and let die, but he won’t for the sake of the wall he has bled to put up between you two, “You say that as if Nancy and I aren’t friends.” 

“Are you?” 

He’ll regret that taunt for the rest of his days. Two simple words, and he’s damned himself. The conversation that follows, about Instagram and followers and social standards of friendship, doesn’t even matter to him. It’s just a routine. Constant knives, clashing swords of words, lie after lie piling up with the bile in his throat as he shoots for kills. He hands over reason after reason for you to resent him, and makes sure that each punch lands. Ignores the ache, the one billowing in his knuckles as if each subtle insult he tosses your way doesn’t bruise his innards all the same way. By the end of the back and forth, it should be enough, for both of you. He’s accomplished the same thing he always sets out to do with every conversation: he pisses you off, putting another inch in that stretch between you two. 

But then you turn your back on him. And he deserves it. God, he deserves it. But he’s still full of bad ideas tonight, the awfulness of the last few days still suffocating him, and so he makes another decision to regret. He walks up behind you.

You open your phone, and he sees it. You’re on the dating app again, and the screen flashes with the face of your latest contender. 

He knows that face. He schools his face to remain even, but he fucking knows that face. 

The bartender at his local haunt. The only other person besides Nancy who had ever seen Eddie so miserable over you. He had been drinking alone that night, and the whiskey had him pouring out his guts to the poor guy. Slurred words of the girl who had slipped between his fingers, of the one who got away, of you. 

And that same bartender had been the one to sympathize with Eddie, claiming he understood. That he knew that feeling – dating around and doing anything in your power to get the girl you truly want off your mind. He said he had one of his own. He’d told Eddie that his pain-riddled speeches helped him make up his mind, that he was going to go after the girl he really wanted, that Eddie should do the same. 

Was this bartender your ex-boyfriend? Had the two of them been discussing the exact same girl?

Bad decisions. Over, and over, and over. It all comes to a rise within Eddie – not just the anger, but the jealousy and the hurt and the goddamn envy of the man on the screen. He hates the bartender, he hates himself, he hates the world at this point.

He tells himself he should add you to that list. But he doesn’t. He can’t. 

And it all spirals out of control before he can prove that to himself. Words grow sharper, small kindles of tension between the two of you finally explode to full blown flames, and he’s suddenly saying things he doesn’t mean. Things he’ll linger on for the days and weeks, the months to come. 

“You’re so dense, you never realize that you’re not wanted, Not by those assholes, not here-” 

He’s mid-lie, one finger on the trigger of the gun he assumed was aimed at his own chest, when it finally happens. A snap within both of you. Timed perfectly with the glass that shatters against the wall beside his head. 

Eddie learns two things that night. 

One, half of his plan worked. He’s succeeded. You hated Eddie Munson’s guts, and instead of him being content in his success, he’s sick to his stomach. It doesn’t bandage the wound inside of him, doesn’t pack away cotton nor cauterize the bleeding. It only worsens it. Widens it, impossibly so. He swears shards of that broken glass fly right into his unsuspecting chest, even if Nancy doesn’t find a trace on him when she comes back inside to see the aftermath. You hate him, he’s proven his point. He has proven himself to be the worst possible version of himself, the most unlovable man he had always seen in the mirror now residing in him staunchly enough that every single one of his friends sees it. 

He’d done it. He’d diminished any chance he had ever held of being friends with you. And he thought that, without a doubt, that meant he’d diminished any disastrous chance of letting you close enough to risk the chance of any more of his feelings getting involved. He thought it would have meant that he’d done it – he’d protected himself, and in some sick twisted way you, from inevitable bloodshed. 

But blood had still been shed. Even if his friends were only cleaning up broken glass in the kitchen, he could still see the stain of red across the floor and walls from you and him. He was bleeding out for you, but he had just driven the knife in deep enough that you would never return the feeling. There was no world where you would be bleeding out for him, only because of him. 

The second revelation comes a bit later in the night.

Closer to midnight, hours after the fight, when Eddie finds himself alone as per usual. He stumbles to his usual bar, thankful for the late hours, fully prepared to get so fucking wasted he can’t remember his own name. He’d wish to not remember your face, especially when he had spewed such hateful intent your way, but he knows there’s not a single brand or amount of whiskey out there that can cleanse him of that. Your name is just another ghost to add to the lineup. You’ll haunt him until his dying day. And he deserves that. 

But then, when he walks into the bar, he sees the bartender. 

The same man who had stood you up just the night before. The same man Eddie simply couldn’t understand. He was clearly on a date, a nice girl sat at the table across from him, laughing at every word he said. Eddie remembers their conversation, although a bit hazy. 

“I think you’re onto something, man. Some girls are just… irreplaceable. I’ve got a girl like that of my own – prettiest eyes you’ll ever see, a smile that could cure cancer – and… you know what? I think we should both go for it. Give up on the girls who could never compare.” 

He wants to vomit. The bastard had even poured a round of shots on the house, had fucking cheered with Eddie before throwing back the alcohol with him in the promise of moving onto the girls who matter. 

He had said cheers to discarding you. Brushing off you. To you being one of the girls who could never compare. 

Eddie’s vision goes red, and he knows half of the blame falls on himself. He’d been the reason this asshole stood you up. He had already been the reason for your pain tonight before he’d even said a word to you. His self hatred has never burned so deeply, so viciously.

But you can’t punch yourself. And so instead, Eddie doesn’t hold back when he approaches the table and lands his right knuckles right on the bastard’s cheek bone. Even goes in for a second punch. He would have gotten in a third punch, but the bartender hits back. Not as hard as Eddie, fists fueled by self-defense rather than ravaging guilt and crippling self-hatred, but enough to get deter him until security could gather both men up.

It’s in the alleyway that he has his second revelation. At the hands of the man who had just hurt you. It was like looking in a mirror. Eddie nearly does finally vomit as he leans against the brickwall, security a few paces away, ready to file a police report. But then, the bastard still manages to somehow be better than Eddie, throwing up a hand to stop them from dialing for the cops. 

“Don’t,” is all he says, leveling a stare when Eddie’s eyes fill with tears.

“Really?” Eddie cocks an eyebrow, pushing his luck. He needs someone to punish him. He needs to be thrown in a cell for the night, to be treated as the degenerate he truly was, “I just rearranged your fucking face and-”

“Why’d you punch me?” the bartender spits out some blood, nose crooked, “You- You’re a fucking regular, dude. How’d I piss in your cheerios?” 

Eddie’s feeling vulnerable. All his actual feelings boiling and burning in the back of his throat, begging to be released. He doesn’t need a drop of whiskey this time to be honest. 

“The girl,” Eddie rasps, tears threatening to spill as he pictures your face again, “I told you about the girl. The one no one else compared to.” 

The bartender’s eyes widen, “Jesus, fuc- are you telling me that we were talking about the same fucking girl? I- Vanessa told me she wasn’t seeing anyone else, I can’t believe she fucking lie-”

“Not her,” Fuck Vanessa, Eddie thinks bitterly, almost laughing. He has no right to say his next words, but he does, and they cause a pain worse than even the most nightmarish hangovers he’s ever experienced, “My girl is the one you stood up for her.”

You weren’t his girl. You never would be his girl. 

The bartender only looks more confused, and Eddie’s anger flares a bit more at the thought of him talking to more girls beyond you. The man before him had had everything Eddie wanted: he had had you. And just like Eddie, he had fucked it all up. It was easy to misdirect his anger in the moment. 

He says your name out loud, a searing iron in his throat that makes it come out garbled and strangled. Some recognition falls upon the man’s face. 

“Oh… her.” 

Eddie doesn’t hold back, “Her? That’s all you have to fucking say? You stood her up, you fucking- Jesus Christ, go burn in Hell,” He’s being irrational. He doesn’t care, “Call the cops on me. Tell them to let me rot in a fucking cell. I deserve it – but so do you. That girl… that… her. She’s one in a fucking million, she’s a thousand times better than whatever girl you have waiting on you inside, and you couldn’t see that. You’re a goddamn dick.” 

No one makes the move for the call. The bartender just shakes his head again, being far too patient. Eddie opens his mouth, ready to scream now as he demands they punish him. Make him pay for his crimes. Not just the punches, but everything he had broken tonight.

He broke you tonight. He deserves to burn in Hell far more than the man before him. 

“I knew you were in love with her, but-”

Eddie cuts him off, “I’m not in love with her.”

He hates the look he receives. It’s the same pity that Nancy now looks at him with. That same hidden judgment, like everyone else knows something that he doesn’t. 

“You may hate to hear it,” the bartender is choosing his words very carefully as he swipes in a contrasting carelessness at the blood pouring out of one of his nostrils, “But you don’t throw punches like that for a girl you’re not in love with. So I suggest you mind your business, and if she is as valuable as you keep going on about, you tell her rather than punching the dude he just serves you fucking alcohol.” 

He doesn’t even have to close his eyes to see you anymore. The image of you is clear as day, even with his eyes open. You, broken and vulnerable and full of hatred for him. Just as he had intended. 

Success tastes metallic and bitter. Eddie finally empties what little he had in his stomach onto that concrete alleyway.

He doesn’t leave the wall. Not when the bartender goes back inside with one of the bar’s bouncers, not when the remaining bouncer eyes him and nervously steps forward, not when they return with a paper declaring him banned from the bar. 

He can’t move. All he sees is you. He hasn’t drank more than that one pitiful swig of beer at Steve’s, but he feels like his world has gone incoherent all the same. 

He fucked up. 

He crinkles that piece of paper harshly once he’s properly left alone in the alleyway, angry enough that it tears a bit from his force. It doesn’t phase him; he didn’t intend on returning anyways. He carries it with him the entire way home, regardless, rolls it between his palms until it’s gone soft with the sweat of his hands. 

It’s for the better. He fucked up, but it’s for the better. 

He tosses the wadded ball into the trash when he gets home. Goes through the numb motions of taking off his shoes, tossing his jacket on the counter rather than the hook he’d put up for it, and leaves his bike’s keys beside it. Eventually, he makes his way to the bathroom, brushing his teeth but never once glancing up in the mirror. As a matter of fact, he avoided every single reflective surface in his apartment that night. 

He still sees your face, broken and teary, as he turns off his bedroom light and lays on his mattress that night. It doesn’t matter how many times he repeats it to himself, reminds himself over and over, the mantra of it being for the better doesn’t work. It can’t break through. All because of a pathetic revelation.

Eddie learns that night that he is, in fact, in love with you. And it doesn’t matter, because you hate his fucking guts, just as he had intended. 

—

You don’t make a single move once Eddie breathlessly finishes his explanation. Not even to breathe. 

He’s been in love with you since that night at Steve’s. 

You’d known that he had punched the bartender that night. You’d known that he had been banned from his usual bar that night. But you hadn’t known the entire truth. You couldn’t have ever imagined it, ever pieced it together, until now. 

And you don’t know if that speaks more on you and how dense you’ve been this entire time, or on Eddie and how dishonest he’s been this entire time. 

“God, I’ve loved you for so long, and I’ll never be fucking worthy.”

It suddenly makes sense. At a sickening and sudden pace, it clicks into place. 

“Eddie, I-” 

“Don’t,” he stops you, looking you directly in your eyes. You nearly shrink under his attention. Your fury is gone; you just feel empty, “You… You don’t need to say it back. You don’t need to say anything – the bet’s off. I’m not being honest to stop you from leaving,” he admits, every single wall crumbling at both of your feet, “I’m just being honest because you deserve it. I should have told you that night. I should- I actually should have never done any of this. Any of it.” 

You remember the girl you once were. In a bar, surrounded by strangers and new friends, with tunnel vision for the boy in front of you. You remember that feeling of coming home, the way you ached for him to let you in and had been fooled for one night that it was possible. 

A year later, and he was letting you in, too late. 

“Why?” your voice cracks. You should just pick up your bag and go, but you can’t. Not until you stick the final stitches into the wound, seal up this hurt once and for all. For you and for Eddie. “Why would you… Why would you do that? Why would you set out to make me hate you?” 

“Because I didn’t deserve you,” he says it like a simple fact, like it doesn’t shatter you apart, “Because I knew if I didn’t create the rift and kept letting you in, I’d fall in love with you. At first, I thought I needed you to hate me to prevent it. Figured you’d be stronger than me about it. If I made you hate me, I was… Honestly, I was saving myself. I’d tell myself it was about saving you, but it wasn’t. I was being fucking selfish.”

You nod silently, swallowing down tears. Tears for what could have been, tears for what you still want so badly that it aches. 

“All because of Steve making…” you trail off, head trying to wrap around all the honesty he had just presented you with, “Making some off-handed, drunk comment.” 

It was Eddie’s turn to silently nod. To swallow hard and flutter his eyes shut so you couldn’t see the hurt lit within them. 

“You said you hated me,” you’re thinking out loud more than you’re properly speaking to him at this point, voice broken and soft, hands fighting the urge to reach out for him. Even after it all. Every reminder of what he had done for you, and now having the pitiful reason behind it all, still couldn’t break what had formed here tonight. Everything has still changed for you, “When I said everything changes, I meant the hate – I didn’t want to hate you anymore.” 

“I know,” he bites his lip, as if he’s trying to hold back any careless words. Words that might hurt you, but not for the same reasons as they used to, “That’s why… not much has changed. I never hated you. God knows I wanted to. I told myself I had to hate you, because if I didn’t hate you, I’d love you. And I couldn’t do that again – I couldn’t handle falling in love with someone I couldn’t have. I knew I wouldn’t survive loving you when you’d never love me back. It wouldn’t be fair… to either of us.” 

“But you did it anyway,” you almost laugh at the awfulness of it all, terribly irony stacking up between you, “You fell in love with me, you said it yourself. You… you loved me.”

“Love,” he corrects, eyes now wide open, “I love you. It’s not- It’s not some feeling in the past tense. You should still hate me, because I still love you.” 

He’s right, you finally realize. You should hate him for all of this. 

“And all of this counted on the first part of your plan working,” he has to take a step closer, whether it be subconscious or due to how low your voice has dropped. The physical distance erased aches. Splinters each of your bones and all of your emotions, “Which you never even asked me if it worked, even now. You just assumed.” 

He takes a deep, brave breath before he quietly asks you, “Did it work?”

You both already know the answer now, “No.”

But it changes nothing. You know that, he knows that. It’s just as he said – the point of saying it out loud no longer has anything to do with repairing what’s been damaged just tonight. You’re both being honest only because you both deserve it. You both deserve to finally close this tomb. 

You don’t know if you’ll ever be able to close it, though. Not truly. Not properly. 

“I can’t stay,” you whisper, “I still… I still need to leave.” 

Especially now. 

“I know you do,” he responds. He’s gentle, understanding. 

It doesn’t stop the tear you see break from his lower lashes. He doesn’t draw any attention to it, doesn’t so much as move to clear it from his cheek. As if he’s scared if he does, you’ll notice it if you hadn’t already.

“The bet’s still off,” you continue, unable to meet his gaze as you pick up your bag once more. 

“I know it is.” 

He doesn’t try to stop you this time. And part of you, this time, wishes he would have as you slip back out the front door of apartment 2C and let the door shut with a quiet click behind you.

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#my writing #twenty four hours #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #my bad #surprise drop because... i am actually sleeping so peacefully right now haha #also might be more mindful of answering asks with spoilers for this round <3 just to give people a fighting chance to read first!!! #eddie pov truthers please rise because my GOD have i been excited to do this

[m2ok]

Golden Salvation Pt.2

pt. 1

cowboy!Ghost x m! reader

A/N: There will be one more part to this just to wrap everything up :)

Your pulse thundered in your ears as the stranger loomed closer, hand gripping lethal iron at his hip. Fight or flight instincts kicked into overdrive - this was no ordinary burglary; you could see it etched in every predatory line of his body.  

This man had come for blood, your blood.  

Slowly, you raised your hands in a gesture of peace even as your mind raced. One wrong move and you’d be pushing up daisies come morn. These were the dark shadows Simon lived in, the enemies he’d made through his notorious work. And now they were coming for him...through you.  

.“Don’t want no trouble, mister,” you said, keeping your tone calm and even like you didn't know why this man was here. As if there could be any other reason for someone to break into a home as dingy as your own. “Just a simple bartender is all – barely got a dollar to my name”  

This snake didn't need to know how deep your bond with Simon went, especially since hiding your relationship was the only way you could see to get out of this situation.  

The man cackled at your words, rolling his eyes as the smile dropped and he stalked closer to the bed, aiming the gun at you as he cocked it back with a sickening crack.  

“ Mhm... as if you weren't all nice and cozied up to him not mere hours ago – ya really think im gonna believe you?” He gave you a mocking grin 

 “No no im not stupid sweetheart. Im not here to collect any of his debts from you – I care more about the eight men o’ mine your Ghostie killed. Those boys were my family, he didnt think twice about that though when he shot em’ dead where they stood. Figure I should make him feel the same hurt I do, hm?”  

“You won’t hurt him none-” You tried to reason “His heart don't belong to me, he won’t spare a second glance past this cabin. Hell, He's probably halfway across the desert by now” Your voice was shaky as you spoke, lies seeping through your lips at the risk of your life. You knew what you meant to Simon, no one else was able to get into his space as you did- at least not if they wanted to walk away with their life.  

The man's smirk dropped, new anger burning in his eyes as the grip on his gun tightened, “I saw the way that mongrel looked at you, you’re his boy and that's clearer than any mountain river” he scoffed, finger moving from the side of the gun to rest on the trigger.  

You closed your eyes, praying in your head, but not to any god. No, your prayers were aiming for Simon's rescue, praying that he would somehow know you were in trouble and come rescue you from it. 

Simon sat astride his horse on a dusty ridge, watching the moon rise silver over the desert wastes. A half-smoked cigarette dangled idly from his lips; he’d been nursing the same thoughts over and over since dusk fell heavy as a shroud across the badlands.  

 Thoughts of you.  

Somewhere deep in his gut, an uneasy feeling roiled. Like an invisible string tugging at his soul, trying to tug him back the way he came. Simon growled low in his throat, frustrated with his own foolish longings. You’d made your stance clear – this life wasn’t for you, not truly. And he had no right to ask you to join him.  

And yet... 

A crack suddenly split the still night air. So faint and far that any lesser man may have missed it entirely, but not Simon.  

In an instant he was vaulting onto his horse’s back, boots pounding twin paths in the dirt as they flew towards the distant lights of your little town. Another shot rang out, louder now, and Simon’s blood turned to ice in his veins.  

He knew that sound – deep in his bones he knew something was horribly wrong.  

Choking the reins in a near stranglehold, Simon rode as if all the demons of hell were nipping at his horse’s hooves. Towards you. Towards salvation or damnation, he did not know. But by God, no son of a bitch was gonna harm one hair on your head if he could still help it.  

Help was coming- you just had to hold on.  

The man fired the gun, a sharp sting hitting your side before it blossomed into agonizing pain. You let out a pained cry, one hand instinctively going to land on your wound while the other covered your mouth to muffle your sobs. Your hand was soon coated in dark crimson, entire body shaking with adrenaline as the man cocked the gun once more.  

“Was gonna just end you, but I figured I should make this painful the same way he did. Should fill you with so many bullets he won’t be able to recognize you” he hissed, aiming the gun at your other side.  

Simon was little more than a blur of dust and primal fury as he crashed through the remains of your splintered front door. For a split second, time seemed to freeze – taking in the scene with a single, piercing gaze.  

You,curled onto the bed clutching a bloody wound. And him. That snake. Gun pressed sickeningly against your body as he spewed his venomous threats. With an almost guttural roar, Simon’s Colt leapt into his hand like it was part of his very being. Two blooming shots rang as one; his aim was true as bible scripture.  

The intruder pitched backwards, scarlets blossoms exploding from where his eyes once were. He was dead before he hit the floor.  

But Simon saw none of it. Already he was at your side, tatty serape ripped and pressed desperately against your weeping injury. Brown eyes wild and scared met your own, and for a moment the steely outlaw facade slipped entirely.  

“Darlin’...” he choked, voice thick. “Talk to me, baby. Stay with me now, ya hear?” Working frantically to stem the flood, Simon tangled scarred fingers gently through your hair, anchoring you to this world with his touch alone. 

“That’s it…keep breathin’, just keep breathin’” His voice dissolved into ragged prayers mere ghosts could hear. Help was still minutes away - but for now, you had Ghost. And he’d be damned before he let the reaper take you from him. 

You were sobbing, your brain mangled with confusion and fear as the adrenaline ran out and the full pain of the bullet lodged in your abdomen had you reeling, 

Red painted everything around you, hands, clothes, and sheets underneath you drenched in it. 

“Simon-” you rasped, breathing labored as you looked around with wide eyes at the gruesome scene in front of you. It was too much, you could feel your head going light- brain fuzzy and ears ringing as you fought not to close your eyes. 

“It hurts” you choked, trying to shove his hand away from where he was pressing down on the wound to stop the torrent of blood flowing out. “Simon I cant-” you said, throat raw from the sobs that came out. 

You wanted so badly to stay with him, to be able to wake up tomorrow with him, but you didn’t know if you’d get that with the way you felt your strength leave your body.

“It hurts- it hurts” You were almost begging, for what you didn’t know. You just wanted the pain to go away. 

You were terrified- not ready to die yet, and especially not like this, not when you had so much left to do. The thought alone sent a new set of tears streaming down your face, hand shaking- clutching the bleeding wound on top of Simon’s own to try and ebb the pain that burrowed deep in your skin. 

Simon felt his world crumbling as your agonized crimes tore through him, sharper than any bullet ever could. Seeing you in such anguish ripped open a fissure in his battered heart, letting the demons of his deepest guilt and self-loathing spill forth in a torrent. 

“I know, baby, I know it hurts…” he choked, pressing you close as if trying in vain to absorb your pain into himself. His own broad shoulders shook with ghosts of rage and grief, tears cutting rivulets through the dirt caked on his cheeks. 

Goddamn it all, he should’ve been here. Should have followed his instincts and never left your side. Now it may be too late to hope for forgiveness, your blood staining his hands a brand of failure he could never outrun. 

“Please, darlin’, please hold on…’ Simon begged, voice breaking as he spoke. His bandana was wrung out and useless now - in desperation he moved to cradle you fully, applying trembling pressure with his bare hands and what remained of his coat. 

Distantly he heard the clatter of the approaching horses, but paid them no heed. You were fading, slipping away before his eyes, and all the strength and guns in the world couldn’t stop it. 

“Don’t ye leave me now…I can’t do this world without ya…” A broken whisper, barely audible above the thunder in his ears. Simon pressed his forehead to yours, sharing the same ragged breaths, two souls more tangled than any root or vine. Hanging on a blade’s edge against the dark. 

You stared up into Simon's eyes, eyebrows cinched in pain and eyes soaked with fear. 

“I don’t wanna die, Simon” you whispered, voice shaky as you clung to him - like he alone could save you from this fate. 

You could feel your heartbeat slowing, breathing ragged as you gasped for air that just wouldn’t enter your lungs….

Soon enough the doctor burst into the room, medical kit in hand as he came barreling over to you. He very carefully took you out of Simon’s arm with some convincing, to lay you back on the bed before he opened up his kit. 

He handed you a flask filled with whiskey “You’re gonna want to drink this - it’ll help ease the pain” He said. 

With shaky hands you drank the bottle, a scream ripping from your lungs as the man began to carefully dig into the wound, grabbing hold of the bullet with sterile tweezers before carefully pulling it free. 

With practiced care he cleaned the wound, a harsh whimper leaving your lips at the sting of pain before the wound was stitched up and bandaged. 

You were shaking, sobbing so hard your throat was raw and your lungs burned - the pain was unbearable and a large part of you wished you could just die to get away from it. 

The doctor had you drink another flask, the alcohol numbing the pain receptors in your brain just enough to allow you to fall into a light sleep. 

Simon sat vigil at your bedside through what felt like hours, not letting go of your limp hand once. Your cries of pain echoing loud and endlessly in his mind, driving spikes of pure anguish deep into his soul.

He watched in heavy silence as the doctor worked, breath caught tight in his chest, hardly daring to hope. But then - your ragged breaths evened out, color returning sluggishly to waxen cheeks. Alive. You were alive. 

It was nearly two hours later when the man was done, wiping his hands on a rag as he stood up on shaky legs. 

“He’s stable” The doctor said simply

Choking back sobs of relief, Simon buried his face in the crook of your neck, leaving a trail of gratitude-laced kisses amongst salty tears. “That’s it, darlin’...you fight. Got too much left to do in this world.” he’d whisper to you, voice so soft only you could hear

 “Most important thing now is cleaning that wound twice a day lest it get infected. If it does…” The doctor ordered, his words trialing off though his intentions were clear. He put down a set of bandages and cleaning solution on the nightstand for Simon’s use. 

“It’ll take a long time to heal, I reckon” The doctor said “but my work is done here, y’all know where to reach me should he take a turn for the worst” He said, tilting his hat to Simon before he gathered his tools and headed out of the shabby cabin. 

Simon took the doctor's words as gospel, nodding along to every word before the man left. He spent the next few hours cleaning up the mess that was now your little home. He dragged the body out back to deal with fully in the morning, cleaned your sheets and changed you into new clothes, boarded up the broken window, and finished by fixing the door that he had come barging through. 

His own hands were gentle as churches doing their appointed duty, cleansing and dressing the angry wound each time without fail. Whatever it took to coax your stubborn spirit back to the land of the living. 

Days bled into each other without notice. All that mattered to him now was you. And slowly, so slowly - full color seeped back, fever broke its hold. Eyes fluttered open to meet his own once more, full of pain but oh-so-blessedly alive. 

“Hey there, sunshine…” Simon whispered hoarsely, like a parched man dying of thirst at an oasis. Finally, finally, he allowed himself the ghost of a weary smile. 

You were going to be alright. And by God, he’d spend his last days making sure of it. 

You slowly sat up, a soft whine leaving your lips with the movements as you aggravated the still raw wound. “Simon” you mumbled as you held his hand, reaching over to take a swig of the whiskey on the nightstand to ease the searing pain. 

You rested your head back against the pillows with a soft sigh. It had been a few days now, and the pain was still a dull yet constant ache in your side. 

You took the sight around you in, everything was clean and neat including your bedding and clothes. Even the floor had been mopped, the only reminders of your near death being the hole in your side. 

“Simon you did all this?” You asked simply, eyes wide as you gazed up at him. 

Simon huffed a soft, weary laugh at your question, gently squeezing your hand just to make sure you were really here and he wasn’t hallucinating. 

“Course I did, darlin’. Weren’t about to let ya recover in filth,” He replied gruffly. Truth be told, tending to your every need had been the other thing keeping his demons at bay these long days and nights. 

Keeping busy spared him time to think - and thinking led down paths too bleak to tread. Like how terrifyingly close he’d come to losing you forever.

Holding your gaze with quiet intent, Simon softly brushed calloused knuckles along your cheek “Reckon it’s about time i started pullin’ my weight ‘round here proper. Ain’t no safe place for ya out here alone” A question lingered in the subtle quirk of his brow, the hopeful yet wary gleam in tired eyes. After all that had passed between you both, was there still room for him at your side? A Ghost finally ready to lay his soul to rest, if you’d have him. 

You could only hum softly at his words, sleep still filled in your bones. You didn’t answer him, instead you patted the empty side of the bed “Come sleep next to me, Si. You need the sleep” You said, your words a silent confirmation that you still wanted him. 

Simon gave a soft grunt of approval, too weary in body and soul to do anything but obey your gentle prompting. Careful not to jostle your healing injury, he stretched his long limbs out beside you with a satisfied sigh. 

It felt strange but right, sharing your space in such an intimate way after so long living apart. Like the final piece of a puzzle slipped neatly into place. 

Turning his head, Simon watched you watch him through half-lidded eyes, drinking in every beloved feature as if to confirm this wasn’t some whiskey-fueled dream. Reaching out, he lightly touched the graceful curve of your cheek before letting his hand come to rest against the steady rise and fall of your chest. 

“Sweetest sound there is,” he murmured, voice sleep-roughed and thick with meaning. A tousled head tucked itself beneath your chin with a contented sigh, tension seeping from tense muscles. 

Come what may with the light of dawn, for now all was peaceful. You were alive, you were safe. And against all odds, Simon had finally come home to roost. 

You held him close in your arms, gentle fingers carding through thick hair as you let his head rest against your now steady heartbeat. He needed the comfort, you could tell, and you were more than happy to give it to him. 

“Rest now, Si. I'm not going anywhere. Can’t get rid of me that easy” You assured, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. 

It was a funny thing, holding such a toughened man in your arms, keeping him close and coddled despite the almost laughable size difference. 

SImon made a low sound of gratitude at your soft reassurance, melting bonelessly into your gentle embrace. Your gentle fingers winding through his hair brought forth a wave of lethargy he’d fought to stave off this long week past. But no more - here in your arms, he was finally allowed to let his guard down. 

It still struck him sometimes how two souls so disparate could fit together so seamlessly. But you’d always had a way of easing even his most ragged edges, soothing demons he thought long beyond taming. Lithe as you were in your current state, your strength ran deeper than any show of force ever could - and he found solace there like nowhere else. 

“Missed this…” he mumbled, so soft it was barely audible even in the stillness enclosing your little world. One arm curled protectively around your middle, thumb brushing idle patterns against the slowly healing wound beneath the bandages. 

A prayer of thanks on parched lips, Simon let weary eyes slide shut. Sleep rose like a gentle tide, carrying him off to oblivion sheltered in the piece of heaven he’d begun to call home. You’d brought him back from the brink of darkness once more, anchor in the storm. And for that, he was eternally grateful. 

#cod modern warfare #cod x reader #cod fanfic #cod imagine #cod x male reader #male reader #fanfic #ghost cod #ghost x male reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x male reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x male reader

[ponderingmoonlight]

Honestly, I'm thinking about what if sukuna's s/o(in his og era and when he's still human) died and they vowed that they meet again in another life and they will love him again

MANY many many many years later, itadori become sukuna's vessel and sukuna met his dead s/o who's reincarnated. They have exact voice, face, attitude and everything. The only thing that changed is their last name and THEY HAVE WEDDING RING AND THEY'RE MARRED TO SATORU

And worst of all, sukuna is still inlove with his s/o and LIVID

Jsdijscusncjsnfjdnfieixjeifndfjjeks😭😭😭😭

When I tell you I had to run home and write this IMMEDIATELY I mean it. What a absolutely amazing idea for a fic, there you go! Please let me know what you think<3

PS: I changed it up just the tiniest bit because it fitted better in the story I had in mind, hope you still like it though

Promises you can't keep

Pairing: former!reader x Sukuna; reader x husband!Gojo Word Count: 2,5k Synopsis: When Sukuna realizes that you did not only break your oath to wait until he returns back to you but married Gojo Satoru after 1000 years of him waiting for you, he goes insane. Warnings: pretty rough language, heavy hurt on Sukuna's side

„Ryomen“, you breathe out, whole body shivering in nothing but grief.

A thick veil of rain and teardrops pours down on the lifeless body of your lover without any mercy. How did this happen? Who on earth would be able to defeat the strongest jujutsu sorcerer of all times?  You always thought that this would last forever, that nobody is able to take this blessing away from you. But there he lays, covered entirely in his own blood while you clearly feel that his strength is leaving him with every passing second.

“You need to look at me, (y/n).”

He had so many enemies, countless people who wanted to defeat him. But no one could ever hold a candle to him – no one until now.

“(y/n). Look at me”, he gasps again urgently.

His hand gently caresses your cheek, a grin plastered on his face. You want to bury yourself against his body, close your eyes and pretend that none of this is actually happening, that your lover isn’t dying in front of you. But you know that look on his face all too well – the stare of death. After all, you took enough lives with your own hands to know how this feels.

“You have to promise me something.”

“I’ll promise you everything”, you cry out, holding onto his hand for dear life while the pounding rain seems to soak through your bones.

This is all too much to bear. You want nothing more than stabbing yourself and lie beside him, waiting for death to finally wash over you. But you know he wouldn’t allow that, that he has other plans.

“I taught you how to use cursed technique, use it. And when you do, we’ll meet again, you hear? No matter in which live, I will find you. Promise me that you’ll wait for me.”

“Of course I will. O-of curse I will wait for you”, you mutter.

“This isn’t enough. I need more assurance. Show me that you mean it”, he demands.

Without thinking twice, you use your powers to cut a gaping wound into your very own forearm, running blood mixing with the rain in an instant.

“I swear I will find you in another life and that I’ll love you until that! I insist by my blood, by a blood oath!”

He smiles while you can sense that life slowly begins to leave his weak frame.

“That’s what I wanted to hear…Don’t break your promise, (y/n)”, he mutters, lids so heavy that he’s barely able to keep his eyes open.

“I would never do that”, you reply, determination filling you gaze.

You will do what he told you. You’ll turn yourself into a cursed spirit and live on until you finally meet again.

Until you are finally able to hold Ryomen Sukuna in your arms again.

“Fuck”, you mumble to yourself, scratching your head while you desperately fight against the pictures of Sukuna that occupy your mind.

Even after more than 1000 years, it seems like this man put a spell on you, haunting you even in your dreams. Well, given the fact that your husband just found out one of Sukuna’s fingers disappeared, the wave of your past seems to catch up with you faster than you thought.

Your phone buzzes violently on your nightstand, making you sign in frustration. Who the hell is this? What could be important enough to contact you when you definitely have more urgent problems at the moment?

“I’m busy sleeping”, you mumble into your phone.

“Gojo-san, you need to come here immediately…I found the cursed object”, Megumi’s unusual bothered voice explains briefly.

“Where’s Satoru? I thought he’s around that area too”, you mutter.

“He’s buying sweets at the moment. Can you please just come here? I wouldn’t call you if it’s not urgent.”

You know that Megumi’s right, that he’d never call you if not necessary. But why on earth is your husband out there buying sweets when this is actually his mission?

“Sure. Give me 5 minutes.”

To be honest, it doesn’t really sit right with you to get in contact with Sukuna again, even if it’s only one of his fingers. But he has to be naïve if he thinks you waited for him, right? After all, he was gone for more than 1000 years, swallowed by earth without any sign. When Satoru Gojo came into your world a few years ago, he showed you what life really is about and even accepted the fact that you are half curse half human, protecting you from the elders with every beat of his heart. Yes, you love this man with all your heart. So much that you gave up the idea of getting back together with Sukuna and started a new life with your now husband.

None of this matters, though. Sukuna is sealed, forever trapped in 20 of his fingers. Even if he’s not over you, he won’t have a chance to confront you anyway.

With a swift motion, you get into your car and drive to the location Megumi has sent you earlier. Everything will work out just fine, like always

______________________________________________________________

“Sorry for keeping you waiting Megumi-chan, got stuck in traffic. Oh, who’s your friend?”, you question while eyeing the pink-haired boy in front of you up and down.

“And why on earth is he half naked?”

Meanwhile, Sukuna laughs to himself inside Yuji hysterically. Finally. Finally he found another vessel. Finally he’s able to search for you again. Oh, how much he missed to hold you in his arms, to hear your sweet voice. How have you been? Did you wait for him like you promised? Of course you did. After all, you told him over and over how much you lo-

“Something really bad happened, Gojo-san”, the black-haired boy that caught Sukuna’s attention earlier speaks out while scratching his head.

Sukuna needs to take a closer look. Who is this woman? She surely is attractive, looking almost like…

“Come on Megumi-chan, stop being so shy and call me (y/n) already.”

You. His heart drops, gaze hungrily soaking up your striking sight. Oh, you didn’t change at all, looking exactly like he remembers you with your wry grin and delicious curves. He waited for this exact moment more than a thousand years.

Finally.

Finally he’ll be able to hold you in his arms again, to rule the world with you by his side like the both of you always imagined. Can this day get any better?

“I prefer Gojo-san, though. After all you’re married to Gojo-sensei.”

…

What was that? Married? And that name…He heard it before. It belongs to the current strongest jujutsu sorcerer.

His stomach turns. This can’t be true, it has to be a misunderstanding. Back then, you made it very clear that you’ll wait for him no matter what happens, he showed you how to reincarnate yourself, he is the one responsible for you still walking on this earth.

You…You wouldn’t betray him like that, right?

“Anyway. What is so bad that you had to call me? And where’s the cursed object?”

“I ate it”, Yuji explains briefly.

Time stands still as you can only stare in disbelief at the boy in front of you, too stunned to speak. Fuck, this is bad. This is very very bad. Not only because that poor teen will probably die, but because it means that he’s reincarnated. Sukuna is back walking on this earth, free to do whatever he pleases. And you know well enough that this could be the end of everything.

“He ate it?”, you repeat with low voice.

Your heart seems to stop beating, your usual so confident smile fades away in the wind.

“Yup”, both boys confirm your worst nightmares.

You need to take a step back, to get a hold on yourself while your finger plays with your wedding ring. This is bad, this means trouble, this is the worst thing that could have possibly happen.

“Gojo-san, are you okay?”, Megumi asks, voice filled with concern.

It’s like you’ve forgot how to breathe, your lungs refusing their service. The eyes of that boy, that orbs that are filled with nothing but innocence and kindness. If you look close enough, you can tell that he’s inside him.

“Get that moron here right now”, you hiss, turning around to face Megumi so fast that your head begins to spins.

Fuck, what are you supposed to do? There are exactly two options:

1. Ryomen forgot about you anyway and will continue his cruel plans

2. He does in fact remember your promise very well and still has feelings for you.

While option one is pretty bad already, you are almost certain that option two is equal to the end of the world. Ryomen is fucking cold-hearted, sadistic and selfish. The only time he ever opened up in his entire life was for you. Oh, you just knew how to make him soft, how to make a thoughtful lover out of a man that wanted to burn the entire world down.

“Long time no see, (y/n).”

You feel like fainting, mouth dry like the desert. It’s his voice. And god, it sounds as horrible and unpromising as 1000 years ago.

“You look younger than I expected”, you comment dryly while turning around.

The worst thing you could do right now is showing him your weakness. You know this man all too well to be aware of the fact that he’ll use everything against you he can grasp.

“And you look like a cheating whore.”

His voice makes the blood freeze in your veins in an instant. He isn’t just mad. No, he’s absolutely furious.

“Ouch, that are some rough words to say.”

Before you have time to even comprehend what’s happening, he grabs your wrists and forces you to look at him, tight grip making your skin burst.

When you look into his eyes, you can see nothing but hatred and disgust in them – a mixture that makes your guts turn.

“Is this a wedding ring on your finger, (y/n)?”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

“You were gone for over 1000 years. How long did you expect me to wait for you?”

Your voice isn’t more than a fade whisper, completely swallowed by the threatening way he stands in front of you.

“You swore. You fucking swore.”

“I moved on. I found a man who truly loves me and I love him with all my heart, without any fear or pursuit of power. He accepts me the way I am, he fights for me-“

“And I didn’t do that?”, he yells so hostile that you flinch.

“He showed me that I don’t have to subjugate people. The jujutsu sorcerers at Jujutsu High accept me the way I am, I would even say they like me. And admiration is so much better than submission. I changed my view of the world and this view doesn’t match your fucked up one at all.”

Sukuna can’t believe it. All these fucking years, he waited for you patiently. You were the only thing that occupied his mind, the empire you could have built together. Are you really giving that up because of a random man that put a ring on your finger? Are you giving this life of luxury and nonchalance up for some brats? This doesn’t sound like you at all.

“The (y/n) I knew gave nothing about all of these things”, he spits atyou.

“The (y/n) you knew died a long time ago”, you reply.

He hates the way his heart burns in agony because of your words and how he feels like falling apart. He is the king of curses, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer of all times. You should be happy that he chose you to stay by his side, to support him while he reaches his goals. Why on earth do you choose a miserable life like this over him?

It doesn’t matter.

“Then you are my enemy and I’ll kill you.”

“Here I am everybody! Look what I’ve bought!”

There has probably never been a moment in your life when you were so happy to hear the voice of your husband.

“That boy eat the finger, Satoru”, you explain briefly without breaking eye contact with your former lover.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“So you’re Sukuna, huh?”, Gojo mutters besides you.

Something inside Sukuna snaps. Instinctively, he lunges himself at Gojo, over and over trying to punch into his pretty face. Is this really the man you chose over him, the man you decided to marry despite the promise you’ve made?

“You have something that belongs me”, Sukuna states, pure hatred dripping from his voice.

“I know you want my woman back because she had a thing with you a thousand years ago. But I need to disappoint you: she’s mine now”, Gojo replies with a cheeky grin.

All the countless nights you spent together, the humans you killed on each other’s side, the empire the two of you built back then in your era. And this is your replacement? He can’t help but feel…

Grief. Fuck, even if he’d never admit it out loudly, you were the only thing besides his powers that Sukuna really valued, maybe even loved. He shouldn’t care about things like this, about your new lover. But he’s absolutely livid, the thought of this man touching the body that belongs to him making him see nothing but red.

Over and over, he tries to beat Gojo Satoru, to show him that he is not to be trifled with. But even though that annoying brat acts as his vessel now, there are still 19 parts of him missing. To beat this man, he’ll definitely need more than one part of his soul.

“C’mon, get back on track boy, don’t let this old fart take over your body”, Satoru speaks to Yuji.

Slowly but surely, Sukuna feels the control slipping through his fingers. No, he isn’t done yet, he has to kill the man that proclaimed you, he has to force you to stay with him at any cost. He waited to damn long for this moment, he can’t lose control now-

“Man, that is really annoying”, Yuji speaks out with his usual voice.

You can tell immediately that he’s gone, almost falling backwards in relief. That was a damn close call. If Satoru wouldn’t have made it one time, who knows what would have happened.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?”, Satoru asks softly, hand placed on your back in order to support your trembling body.

“Yeah. Just a little surprised to see my ex after 1000 years I guess”, you breathe out.

All Sukuna is able to do is sit down and watch as this fucker wraps his arms around you and places a small kiss on your forehead, asking you over and over if you’re okay and what happened.

This is unacceptable. You are his and his alone. He will not allow another man to touch you, let alone marry you.

He leans back in his chair and lets himself close his eyes for a brief moment. No, Sukuna won’t allow you to be happy. Even if it’s the last thing he’ll do, he’ll kill Satoru Gojo as soon as an opportunity presents itself.

“I’m coming for you, (y/n).”

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk season 2 #jjk season two #jjk hurt #jjk imagines #jjk shibuya arc #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo satoru #gojo saturo #gojou satoru x reader #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna jjk #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x y/n #jujutsu kaisen ryomen #ryomen x reader #jjk ryomen

[natailiatulls07]

Lando Norris x Female!reader

Summary - She's a workaholic, he just wants to help but she won't listen

Warning - Reader working herself raw, angst but fluff ending

A/n - I'm trying to answer all your requests, I promise, but I've been struggling alot with my mental health and college recently so please be patient 🫶🏻

-

She was at it again. Every once in a while Y/n would work herself to the bone with her work, her fitness, etc. Every time there was a routine to it - An unhealthy and tiring routine. It was just something she’d do and no one knew how to pull her out of that routine. Well one person did and over time he learnt how to pull her out of it - Her own best friend.

Each time he’d collected her up into his arms, away from her desk and through the hall to her plush and abandoned couch. Lando would wrap himself around her, shielding her from the world and he would help her relax. That man was her safe space. Every single time.

-

“I hate when you do this to yourself” He mumbles. His green eyes flicker down to her, seeing her shoulder so tense pains him really. 

A small and sarcastic chuckle escapes her lips. They had this conversation before and it’s becoming repetitive now - maybe she should listen to him sometime soon. “Mmh I know” Y/n mumbles into his firm chest, she can feel his calloused hand stroking her hair. The formula one driver lets out a heavy sigh, much like the female on his chest he also knows the common conversation between the two. 

A frown tugs on the ends of her lips as Y/n pulls her head away from his chest. “I need to get back to work…” She mumbles, actively avoiding eye contact and moving to stand up from her couch. 

Immediately Lando can see how tense and rigid she is again - It was hard not to notice it. “No no, you need rest” He urges, his British accent is soft and worried. “You’re wearing yourself out, Y/n. Please just listen to me, I don’t want to see you hurt” Although it felt like he was controlling her, the man just really didn’t like seeing like this. 

Shaking her head rapidly, Y/n struggled to tug her hands away from his. Having taken her hands in his, Lando did this to slow her and to calm her. “Lando please, I need to work…” It was getting heated now. 

There was a look of concern behind his eyes. “Y/n, you need to rest.” He wasn’t about to let her walk right back into her death. “You are not going to work. All you’ve done is work yourself to the ground. Y/n do you even hear me right now?”

“No! It’s okay Lando…” She’s pleading with him now - not understanding the damage she was doing to herself.

Lando continues to grip onto her wrists, he was determined to get his best friend to take a deserved break. “Y/n, it’s far from okay!” His voice held conviction. “A break is what you need, this cycle you’ve put your body through will eventually lead you to breaking down and we both know that it’s unhealthy!” Unknowingly tears began to form in the white of his eyes the more she resisted. 

“Get out.” Silence followed the two words. Never did they fight nor did Y/n ever raise her voice. “You need to get out of my apartment. Now.” There’s no room for discussion.

His jaw falls and he’s in total shock. “What?” The driver breathes out. The grip on Y/n’s wrists loosens and falls. Having been nothing but supportive and kind, he felt betrayed. And then he shook his head - completely refusing to leave even when practically ordered to.

“You need to get out of my apartment. Get out now!” There’s venom behind her voice as she shouts.

“No!” The two are in a shouting match by now. Lando could feel his frustration boiling and his temper becoming untethered. “I’m not leaving you like this. You need to see that rest is needed. You’re going to hurt yourself if you don’t” His fists clenched. All the formula one driver wanted to do was to help - not hurt her. 

Y/n sighs, realising that he won’t listen to her. “Fine. You can stay but don’t think you can stop me from working…” She narrows her eyes, pointing a finger towards the British man opposite her. “Unlike you, Lando Norris, some of us have to work our ass’ off every single day to just live!” 

Maybe she was right, maybe he was being selfish. But Y/n was killing herself with every coming day, anyone could see it. All Lando could do was sigh and nod his head. At least she was allowing him to stay, this way he could help. 

“Thank you…”

-

It had been two hours since Lando had seen Y/n. She had left him to settle herself in her office, back to the non stop typing. He was getting anxious and worried now.

Pausing the film he was watching, the driver moved from the couch and down the bright hall to her office. Listening from outside, he hadn’t heard anything. And when he slowly opened the door, there she was asleep. 

She looked so peaceful and relaxed. The corners of Landos lips curved into a smile. He really did love her and to see her finally at ease made him happy.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed…” He whispered, wrapping his arms around her before picking her up and carrying her to bed. Lando made his way out of the office and down the hall again to her bedroom.

As he was trying to open the door, Y/n started to stir. “Lando…?” Her voice filled with confusion and tiredness. Opening her eyes, the woman looked up at him to see his growing goatee and loveable smile. 

“Shh…go back to sleep sweetheart…” His voice was soft and gentle. Y/n felt like a princess right now as she slowly closed her eyes and fell back into a delicate slumber. “I love you so much…” Lando whispered as he lowered her down onto the plush bed - she didn’t hear him, he could only wish she did.

-

#formula one #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #mclaren formula 1 #mclaren #formula one x y/n #f1 x y/n

[dfortrafalgar]

Watching You In The Morning

Inspired by “Watching You In The Morning” by Waltzin

Law x Fem Reader

Warnings: fluff, kinda poetic? more narrative study than plot, more fluff

Also posted on AO3

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

The rise and fall of your chest was a perfect metronome, as if you were dancing along to the patter of raindrops as they fell against the submersible’s porthole.  In your deep, whimsical slumber, you would never even know of the romantic waltz your very presence exuded upon the man in the bed next to you.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Slow, methodical.  His tattooed fingers dusted fleetingly across the skin of your neck, reaching out to you with reserve, with apprehension, with want.  He felt himself smile, chapped lips tugging ever so slightly at his cheeks at the sight of your serenity, lost in the haze of your dreams.  You were truly beautiful.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

He could watch your breathing forever.  He could die at the crevice of your chest, just to know that you were still inhaling and exhaling, inhaling and exhaling.  To know that you were alive, that your flesh was warm with your blood, that your nerves could feel his hands against your skin, was plenty for him.  He forever worshiped the ground you walked on, relishing in your every moment.  Every word you spoke, every blink of your eyes, curve of your smile, every time your perfect hand fit snugly into his like a statue carved from the finest marble.

His calloused fingers traced invisible lines up your neck, towards your jaw, barely touching you enough to feel the slight fuzz of your natural facial hair.  He ghosted across your dimpled skin, absorbing the heat you radiated, memorizing every cell he could touch.  His eyes darted toward your lips, parted ever so slightly to breathe.

In.

Out.

When his slate-gray eyes looked back up toward yours, you were also looking back at him.  You blinked in slow motion, eyes heavy with the waning of your slumber.  You grinned at him, a sight that made the cold man’s heart do pierrouets, fluttering below his ribcage.  Any more unbridled affection towards him would make his chest rip open in a flood of snow-white doves.

With exhaustion on your tongue, voice crackling without being used, you spoke.  “Were you watching me?”

His fingers retraced their steps along your skin, landing at your collarbones where he mimicked the line of your bone.  “How could I not?”

You laughed.  A sound so bright, so warm, almost too warm.  A sound that made his body lighter, his hair stand on end.  A sound that filled his senses with yellow and violet hues, that smelled like peaches and lavender, that engulfed him in a sweet embrace of a hearth’s heat.  Your laugh made the walls he had spent a decade building up crumble with vigor, chips of glass falling to the ground and shattering into irreparable pieces.

Pieces that he was starting to think did not need to be repaired.

He adjusted his body with the motion of you shuffling closer to him, nestling yourself perfectly in the crevice of his shoulder, his arms around your body, secure and safe.  He smelled of cedar and ethanol, a faint tinge of gasoline and the essence of sugar.  You melted like butter in his hold, paralyzed in his arms, a willing prisoner of his presence.  You felt his chest rise and fall with his shallow breaths.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Your own air tickled the skin of his breast, tiny, gentle feathers in a spring breeze.  Your fingers crawled along his side before looping your arm under his and pulling your body ever closer.  Oh how you wished you could break the universe for just one moment, to part his atoms and truly become one with him.  Even just a zeptosecond would be enough.

“If you keep thinking this hard, you might blow a fuse.”  His low voice rumbled against your head.

“How did you know?” you responded, voice light and airy, lovestruck and dumb.

He released a chuckle from his throat.  “I just had a feeling.”

Silence once again fell over the two of you.  Save for the continuous rain that fell, a faded noise in the backdrop of the aura he surrounded you with.  Washing away all worries, all fears.

“Can we stay like this forever?”

The question surprised you.  It wasn’t like him to ask such silly, menial queries.  Ever the pessimist, ever the analytical scientist.  He lived for the truth of the world and the facts of life.  He had you for the optimism and the joy for life that he lacked, a perfect balance.  The Yang to his Yin.

You simply hummed.  Tilting your head up to meet his eyes, you felt your blood rush to your face like a flame.  “Forever.”

His arms squeezed you once, then twice.  He sighed, melancholy.  The rain continued to fall, the vessel continued to sway monotonously on the surface of the vast, open ocean, but you stayed anchored to his bed, to his sheets, in his unmoving arms.

He smiled again.  “Thank you.”

No response was followed, and no response was needed.  Your breaths fanning against his skin were more than enough.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

#trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #law x reader #op x reader #one piece x reader #reader insert #x reader #fem reader #x female reader #law x you #law oneshot

[yourheart-inmyhands]

YOU HAVE A CAT?! ME TOO?!

She hates me tho :(

---------

Zhongli, Neuvillette and Dottore

With a fox!darling that is always with animals and isn't social at all due to heavy torture in her past and they discover it? 💀

Man I'm in need of some gore rn 💀💀

- Weird anon ✨

i'm so sorry but i just couldn't write neuvillette for this prompt, he's too precious DX

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including being held against will, delusional behaviors, torture, breaking of bones, and other potential topics. Please Read At Your Own Risk!

Yandere!Zhongli sympathizes with you, and since it’s clear that the animals bring you comfort, he allows you to keep a couple when he moves you in with him. He even goes the extra mile and builds a special enclosure so they’ll be just as content as you are, even if you aren’t receptive to his love yet. 

When he finds out about your past, which is inevitable with how overbearing he can be and how good he is at finding out things from the locals, it almost hurts his heart a little. But the more sickening side of him is thrilled because now he knows exactly how to get to you, exactly how to make you his perfect little spouse.

Whether it’s be reintroducing trauma through breaking bones, locking you in a cold, damp room with no lights for hours on end, or even things that border on torture, he’ll use it against you so long as it won’t entirely ruin you. While he wants you compliant to his whims and wishes, he doesn’t want you to be a shell, it would’ve been a waste of his time to break you to that point;

Zhongli would never stop as low as hurting your animal friends, but if need be he could certainly find ways to turn them against you. It’s almost amusing to him, the way you care so much for creatures who you’ll outlive. How you care so much for creatures who don’t even really know you, funny.

The sickening crunch of bone echoes through the room as Zhongli stands over you, the heel of his shoe digging into the freshly crushed bones in your leg. The makeshift gag, a towel from the kitchen, dug into the sides of your mouth as it muffled your screams and cries. The Geo Archon almost feels bad for using his strength in such a brutal manner, but it would all be worth it, at least that was how he justified it to himself. It wasn’t about the now, but rather what now would soon be bringing him. By breaking you down bit by bit, sending you spiraling back into some of the worst moments of your life, he could slowly rebuild your shattered pieces how he saw fit. What use was a puzzle if the pieces weren’t in the correct order, right?

Yandere!Dottore is sick, sick, twisted, and absolutely disgusting. If he wasn’t the cause of your original trauma, you could surely bet he’d be the driving force behind re-traumatizing you. 

Whether he chooses to reenact every step, or to simply do something far worse than what had previously done it all dependent on how he feels that day. Some days will be so similar to your past that you’ll truly feel like you were back there, all those years ago. Other days are so awful it almost makes what happened in your past seem insignificant as if that were a stone among boulders resting on the ocean floor. 

Dottore does think it’s funny though, using it as both amusement and research opportunities. It wasn’t often that animals such as yourself came across his table, so of course he’d taken the prime subject as soon as he’d laid eyes on you.

In his lab, you aren’t seen as anything but a thing that exists only for Dottore’s own gain. If you’re lucky one of his more sympathetic clones might take pity on you and actually give you a day to rest when he’s out of the Palace, but they’re expected to keep up the same treatment he inflicts in his absence.

It was almost sickening to the segments as the watched the fox-human endure soul shaking torture day in and day out. Everything from injections to straight up live surgery to see how much pain the body could take whilst awake had occurred on the cold, steel table. They were often left to clean up the mess, expected to stitch you up, administer antidotes to anything too harmful that had been administered today, and even sometimes bathe you due to the mess that had occurred. You’d been fed little since you arrived, given water only when necessary for your survival, and hadn’t seen sunlight in days- or months maybe? With the sickening way time seemed to pass, you couldn’t tell how long you’d been here. Your only reprieve would be when the doctor left for something more pressing, leaving you in the care of his segments that only sometimes took pity on you. Some seemed to hold a little more humanity than others.

#genshin x reader #genshin x male reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin x male reader #zhongli x reader #zhongli x male reader #yandere zhongli x reader #yandere zhongli x male reader #dottore x reader #dottore x male reader #yandere dottore x reader #yandere dottore x male reader #yandere zhongli #yandere dottore #yandere genshin

[plutoswritingplanet]

White Rabbit (Peter Ballard x Female!Reader)

PART 2

a/n: how close can i get to writing monsterfricking before being called a monsterfricker?

Warnings: NON-CON (nothing too explicit, but still, be warned, be safe), bathroom-donging (once again), extensive use of a 80′s rock song as a plot device

Summary: Vecna’s Curse finally comes to take what’s his. Only thing is, he doesn’t look like the monster your friends described. 

Edit: Y'all are actually insane for giving this fic so many notes. There will be part two, most certainly, after the finale comes out. I will tag everyone in notes and in my askbox. With peace and love, what the fuck

There is a clock, ticking inside your head. It's sound filling every crevice of your brain, seeping into every fiber of your being, rattling every bone in your body until you're unable to move. You know what it means, you've seen what comes after it. The mutilated corpses of a cheerleader and that press kid are burned into your consciousness. Then, Max, floating above the graveyard, her blue eyes rolled grotesquely into the back of her head.

You haven't told anyone, as the team runs around Hawkins, looking for any clues that could help them stop Vecna's Curse.

Speaking of which, you are yet to see the abomination causing your imminent demise. It terrifies you to your very core, but under that overbearing feeling, there is another one. Curiosity. Danger feels heavy on your shoulders, and you love it, the thrill it gives you. Besides, shall things go south, you have a recorder by your side, "White Rabbit" by Jefferson's Airplane recorded on a small cassette, ready for trouble. "You can do this", is a mantra you've been telling yourself for hours now, you can survive.

The Wheeler house is lively with worried chatter, parents lamenting over their kids, in trouble again, and with the Hawkins Police nonetheless. You're sitting in the living room, head hanging low, fingers pulling at the hem of your shirt, which is currently covered in stains of various origin. Moss, mud, some blood, although you don't know where it came from. All the fault will undoubtedly fall on your shoulders. Being the only adult on scene, the only one getting caught. You curse under your breath, thinking of your friends, old and new, currently stuck in the Upside Down. Leaving you to handle everything else on the surface.

It has been a hassle, the interrogation. You got put into a stuffy room with Officer Calahan, who was strangely excited at the prospect of potentially locking up a bunch of kids, for whatever reason. It won't happen, obviously, but you're not here to break his bubble. He asks you questions with an aura of sarcastic authority, giving you patronizing nods, whenever you answer. You want to punch him, not only because your friends are currently in mortal danger, and you could do so much more to help them, if he'd just let you out. There is also the sound of a ticking clock, coming from behind his back, and the suspense drives you insane.

And a spider. Fat and dangerous, it traverses the expanse of the man's shoulder, but when you blink, it's gone.

- Can I use the bathroom? - you ask, voice barely containing all the emotions you were feeling.

The Officer looks at you, startled, as you had just interrupted another one of the monologues. He blinks, as you turn your head, and blinks again, processing your words.

- Yeah - he sounds dumbfounded.

Before the man can say anything more, you bolt out of the room, to the corridor basked in warm light of the ornate chandelier. The ticking is louder here, seemingly just a smidge away from your ear, and slowly, as if not to startle the hallucination, you turn your head left. There, on a cream wall, where normally a lovely family photo of the Wheeler's would hang, you find a round face of a grandfather's clock, staring back at you. One hand comes to life, lazily sliding from one minute to the other, a rusty clank of the mechanism filling your ears. There is a sinking feeling in your stomach, as you force your eyes away from the clock.

The world spins around you, as you fall through the bathroom door, closing it behind you. Your hands shake, as you reach for the recorder, fingers fumbling around the headphones you hastily pull over your ears. One click later, and a familiar base enters your brain, the sound of the clock barely recognizable beneath the drums.

- One pill makes you larger - you mutter under your breath, leaning heavily on the sink.

You try to control your breathing, focus on the steady rise and fall of your chest, still muttering the lyrics, like a prayer. The feeling persists, however, and you begin to sway in your place. The mirror shows your disheveled reflection in an almost mocking manner. Hair is sticking to your sweaty face, there are tears framing your eyes, and you're ghastly pale, worryingly so. Unable to focus, you close your eyes, shutting your eyelids tight. trying to block out everything but the music. Specks of light dance beneath your eyelids, and you try to follow their irregular paths, anything to bring you back.

Yet, that ticking sound is persistent, almost impatient. Waiting for the song to end. And with a click of finality, it does. Your heart jumps to your chest, as silence finally engulfs you. Your right hand flies to the Cassette player, fingers immediately finding the rewind button. Your eyes stay shut, as you listen to the whirling of the tape. And the ticking, always the ticking. Finally, it stops. A breath of relief shakes you.

- Don't play it again.

Your eyes fly open, as you give a startled gasp. The bathroom is empty, only your wracked figure reflected in the mirror. But something is wrong, you can feel it at the base of your neck, where the hairs stand up on guard. It doesn't feel like the Upside Down, doesn't look like it too, and yet, you can't shake the ever present sensation of indescribable dread.

Slowly, your fingers skim the play button, the plastic ridges dig into your skin, as you press down.

Then, something catches your hand. Delicately, like it's holding a flower.

You nearly scream, thrashing in the bathroom, turning harshly towards the shower, nails digging into the porcelain edge of the sink. Empty. Nothing.

Your heart stammers out of your chest, blood rushing through your ears in a suffocating display of panic. And the clock keeps ticking.

You're terrified now, properly. Screw all feelings of curiosity from earlier, you're pretty sure you can live without knowing. And so, even more feverishly, you fumble with the recorder, finally hitting the play button so hard, you nearly break your finger. The drums start again, and as the base joins it, you fall to your knees onto the floor, breathing heavily with relief.

- God - you sigh - Why me?

- Why you, indeed...

His voice is barely audible through the music, but you still feel it crushing through your skull. Your body freezes, as you glance up from the floor. There, just centimeters from you, stands a pair of white shoes. At least you think they're white, as the image keeps flickering in and out of existence, like a glitch on a homemade videotape. Your eyes drag up, over slender legs clad in white pants, white shirt tucked into them. Then, you finally see him. An angelic face looking at you from above. Beautiful, blue eyes, sharp features and lovely lips, all surrounded by a halo of blonde waves. An angel, truly.

You blink, and his image shifts out of existence just for a second.

- Who are you? - your voice sounds foreign in your ears, barely recognizable over the music

The man smiles a gentle smile, before kneeling down in front of you. His hands slowly creep towards yours, cradling them in a hold that is so warm and comforting, you want to melt into it without question. His eyes are so incredibly blue, it takes your breath away. And yet, despite the whirlwind of emotions, you can't stop staring into them. The man lifts your joined hands towards his lips. There isn't even a ghost of a breath, fanning your knuckles, as he places a kiss onto the bone. His image shifts again, violently, and a new feeling of slow dread creeps up your spine.

Then, a shadow passes through him, the kind facade falling into something much darker, much more sinister.

- I'm your worst nightmare - he smiles, teeth on full display, sharp and pointy.

You try to free your hands with a  yank, but he holds them close with little to no force, eyes leaving your face in favor of studying the way veins move beneath your skin.

- I have many names - he says, his voice is calm and melodic - Henry - his lips brush the outside of your left wrist - Peter - a swift kiss is placed onto the tips of your finger - One...

He lingers for a bit at the juncture between your thumb and your pointer, and you still feel no breath coming from him.

- Although, the name your friends have given me has a nice ring to it - he looks up, capturing you again with those blue eyes of his.

- Vecna - your voice comes out as a mere whisper, one you can't even hear amongst the song, slowly, but without stopping, coming to an end.

Suddenly, the man stands up, and you feel yourself being pulled up to your feet as well. It's not gentle at all, and you nearly trip, before finding your balance. Faster than you can comprehend, the man turns you around, so you're facing the mirror. You can see him fully now. He's almost a head taller than you, slender and elegant. Not at all the monster you have imagined, not the one Max told you about. He peers at your reflection, towering over you in his clean, white clothes.

- My name means very little to me now - he says again, hand coming up to tuck your hair behind, exposing your neck to him - I am very particular about the names of my victims, however - another smile has you shaking, as his wondering hands press slightly on your pulse.

You can't move, your legs feel heavy, like someone tied them down with rocks. Your heart is beating so fast, you can feel it in your throat, where his fingers drum delicately over your skin, to the beat of the song still keeping you alive.

- Chrissy - he hisses into your hair - Sounds sweet like candy, and in a way, that's how she tasted.

A shiver wrecks your body, as images of the Cheerleader's body flood your mind. Her eyes, sucked into her skull, her limbs in disarray.

- Fred - you can feel his hands on the insides of your arms, fingers dragging over your veins - Intelligent, although slightly tart, like unripe apples.

Your head starts to spin, breaths escaping you in quick puffs. They found Fred in the middle of the road, alone, abandoned, mutilated.

- Patrick - he dips his head into the crook of your shoulder, nose sliding up, towards your ear - Stern, but full of life, reminded me of walnuts.

"When logic and proportion, have fallen sloppy dead" the singer wails, and you know, your time is coming to an end. A small whimper escapes you, as slender arms encircle your frame, pushing your back into his body.

- Max - there is a spark of rage at the mention of your friends name, one, he catches in your reflection with a raised eyebrow - Strong, youthful, like mint. When I heard your name amongst thousands, I knew, you'd taste wonderful.

Your entire body starts to writhe, as the man gives your neck a long lick of his tongue, starting from your shoulder, up to the back of your ear.

- Oooh - he laughs to himself, as you watch him in the mirror, still unable to move - There is some kick to you, I can tell. Like hot peppers.

He dives down again, placing open-mouthed kisses to your feverish skin, teeth just barely scraping your pulse point.

- A name like this should be savored. This guilt you feel should be savored.

"Feed your head" the woman sings, the song swelling in your ears, so close to the end, you start to shake. As if on cue, the man slowly reaches up, his fingers tangling themselves into your hair, as he pushes them under your headphones. It takes one move, for the plastic to fall from your head, clattering to the ground.

Your eyes meet in the mirror as sudden silence engulfs the both of you. There is a victorious smirk playing around on his lips, as his right hands starts to twirl your hair around his finger. He rubs the strands, like he's sampling a fabric, bafore bringing them closer to his nose, and taking a long whiff of air.

- ...Or maybe cinnamon - me sighs, eyebrows scrunching together.

- Are you going to kill me now?

Again, images of broken bones and mutilated corpses fill your mind, you can almost imagine the wet cracking.

The man laughs, stepping away from your trembling body for just an inch, the loss of his body behind you makes you sway in place. There's this weird flickering glitch running over his figure, intensifying for a moment. He takes a long breath, you can see muscles work under any visible sliver of skin, and as he relaxes again, his form stabilizes.

That is when you realize, what you're looking at isn't real. He isn't real. This angelic, terrifying boy is just an illusion, a hallucination, meant to lull you into a false sense of security. And it almost works. Almost, because as you focus more on his eyes, they seem to become less blue, and more milky and veiny. More like a monster.

- Guilt is a fickle thing - his voice is lower, more raspy than before.

His head dips down behind you, and he plants a wet kiss to the base of you neck, teeth scraping against your skin in a way, that wrenches a whine out of your lips.

Your stomach churns with a feeling sitting too close to arousal, as his large hands begin to explore your body further.

- It never leaves, not truly. And you have so much of it. - a hand digs itself into your hip, then slides up, leasing the edge of your shirt.

- Stop.

He doesn't, fingers creeping under the fabric, squeezing the soft tissue there.

- You're supposed to protect your brother, but he keeps getting hurt on your watch. How many bones does he have to break? How many times have you failed him?

Tears spring to life in the corners of your eyes, as you try to turn away from your reflection. He's faster though, and grabs your chin, forcing you to look back to the mirror. Then, he cranes your chin to the side, forcefully, so that your face is closer to him.

- Those kids you've taken under your wing, I will devour them all, and you'll watch - he seems unmoved by your sobs, whispering the words into your wet cheek - Your father, poor father, never had the chance of seeing how much of a disappointment you really are.

His lips are soft as he kisses your tears away, tasting the saltiness with a grin. Like a chef, proud of his most delicious meal.

- I see it all, sweetness - the hand digging into your stomach climbs up, over your ribs, stopping just short of the underside of your breast.

- Please... - a choked sob escapes you, as your body tries to free itself from his iron hold.

- Shhh - he shushes you, you can't feel his breath on your lips, when he gives you a chaste kiss.

For that matter, you can't feel anything, that would suggest you're being held by a living being. There is no rise and fall to his chest, no smell, no heartbeat.

His form starts to flicker yet again, and suddenly, you feel something definitely not human sliding and swirling behind you. A constantly moving mass holds you in place and instinctively, you screw your eyes shut. You don't want to know how he looks like in reality, mind focusing back on the angelic man from before. Now, you can feel him breath, a low rumble starts in his gut everytime he inhales, like a beast ready to pounce.

- It takes - the voice coming from behind you is gruff and monstrous - A considerable amount of strength to keep this image in place.

Slowly, with every word, the man's voice comes back to the normal, melodic tone. The shifting mass on your back seizes its movements, and slowly, you allow yourself to crack an eye open.

Blue eyes, sharp cheekbones and a halo of blonde hair stare back at you in the mirror's reflection. He gives out a small chuckle, shakes his head slightly, and bends down to take another long sniff of your hair.

- There's no need for you to see my real form - he mutters into the crown of your head - After all, it's not your fear I'm after.

His hands move with unexpected speed, as the both slide upwards, under your shirt, to cup roughly at your breasts. The sound you give out is pathetic at best, as this sliver of friction sets your whole body ablaze.

- It's your guilt - he forces out through his teeth, giving your breasts another sharp squeeze.

Before you have the time to actually understand the implications behind his words, you body is being pressed forwards. The ceramic edge of the sing digs painfully into the meat of your thighs, but the feeling is swallowed completely by a slender hand worming it's way into your pants.

Your entire body rocks back and forth, as the man, Peter, Vecna, plunges two long digits into you without warning.

You feel a raw whine climb out of your throat, as you clench around his fingers, hands flailing at your sides, looking for any sort of purchase. He lets you lean on him completely, one hand massaging your breast, before abandoning it in favor of gripping your pulse.

He works you steadily and greedily, pulling sounds out of you, you'd have never imagined were possible. It feels sick, your stomach tightens into a growing coil, as the rythmic pumping shakes you to your bones.

- I...please - your words come out slurred, as your vision swims around your head.

He chuckles, seemingly unaffected, and presses his thumb down on your pulsing bundle of nerves. The sudden jolt of pleasure wrenches a scream out of you, one, he swallows, forcefully craning his neck, and pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss hurts, plain and simple. His lips, despite being pillowy soft, bite into yours with force you've never experienced in your life. Then, teeth appear, raking abused flesh, tongue forcing it's way into your mouth. It's too much, the whole thing starts to feel less like a nightmare, and more like an execution.

Your lungs scream for more oxygen, the tightening in your stomach accompanied by the sharp pain in your chest. And just when you truly think, this is how you are going to die, something entirely unexpected happens.

"One pill makes you larger and one pill makes you small"

The song enters your brain like a dose of adrenaline, waking you from your stupor. Immediately, the hand toying with your insides, retracts, leaving you unfulfilled and disappointed. The emptiness carries, as his mouth detach from yours. You can't open your eyes, you refuse to do so, too overwhelmed to see.

- Remember this - the man says into your ear, his words slowly being drowned out by music - Remember this feeling, when I come for you again.

With that, you're being released, your limp body falling down onto the floor, where you're met with gentle hands of your friends cradling you.

- Jesus, we though you were a goner! - Lucas nearly screams in your face, as you try your best to focus on the kid's features.

- Yeah! You were flying under the ceiling - Dustin shoves a finger up, and your glazed eyes follow, looking at an unidentified spot above your head.

- Why didn't you tell us? - Max is gripping your shoulders so hard, you're sure it will leave a mark.

The kids, your kids, look at you with terrified faces, as you try to stand up, bones heavy, muscles trembling with unresolved tension.

- Didn't want to worry you guys...

It's a weak excuse, and right now you're not even sure if it's true. Dustin mutters something about you being an adult idiot, and in your heart you can't disagree with him.

- Just - Max slowly let's go of your arm - Keep the headphones on.

With that, the gang makes their way out of the bathroom, you following right after them. The coil in your stomach dies down, and with it, new, overbearing feeling arises in your chest.

Guilt. Crushing guilt of wanting something so wrong you can never recover from it.

And beneath the familiar drums, and the voice, and the guitar, you hear a gentle sound of a ticking clock.

#peter ballard x reader #peter ballard #stranger things #vecna x reader #vecna stranger things #001 x reader #henry creel x reader #001 stranger things #henry creel #my writing #tw: dark fic #monster #i dont support child murder but i do support men being pretty so here you guys go

[speedycoffeedelight]

An Animalistic Disaster

Summery :Where you deal with a shitty guy and decide on jobs for the girls.

Masterlist

CH-15: Job hunting (part one)

You quickly turned your head to see who the hand belonged to. You were faced with a tall, handsome man wearing a suit. His eyes were black slits instead of round.

"Pleasse let the lady go."

The strangers eyes narrowed at the man holding you. When he spoke, you clearly saw he had two large fangs. From his light skin, long black hair and the way he spoke...

You quickly turned your head around as much you could. You saw Cherri peeking out from the bag Niffty was holding and Pentious no where to be found. You quickly put two and two together.

"Who the fuck are you? I'm just teaching this bitch for messing up shirt! Get outta here unless you want some too!"

"I'm afraid I can't do that."

"You little..."

The guy twisted his hand out of his grasp and was about to punch him. But you quickly headbutted him, making him fall. You pushed him on the ground with his back to you and pulled one of his arms to his back holding it and pinning the other on the ground.

The thing happened too fast. Your head was hurting badly. But you kept a firm grip on his wriggling body that was spewing insults after insults at you.

"I ruined your shirt. Focus on me. Try to hurt my friends, and I will break every fucking bone in your body."

You calmly said looking at the man making him go agape. Suddenly Pentious's suit felt too hot for his body. He pulled at the collar to let some air in and gulped.

"I get it! I get it! Let me go you fucking gorilla of a girl!"

"Why you-"

"Alex, Alex where are you? A-"

Suddenly a pair of legs stopped in front of the two of you.

"Well well, what do we have here? Girlie, mind telling me why you're pining my friend to the ground?"

You looked up to see Jake standing in front of you with his arms crossed. His face was painted with confusion? Anger? You couldn't tell clearly.

"Fucking let me go already!"

As you were absentminded, the man, who you assumed was called Alex pushed you away and walked towards to Jake. "Heavy ass bitch.." he muttered while glaring draggers at you.

"So.. could I know what happened?" Jake asked looking at the crowd before him. Especially you.

Pentious helped you stand up again as Vaggie decided to answer him.

"Well your fucking friend here was about to hurt (Y/n) over a fucking strain in his shirt!"

"And she apologized too!" Charlie came forward. Both ladies now glaring draggers at Jake and his friend.

"Is that true Alex?" Jake turned to him, his eyes narrowed. " Did you really hurt my dear neighbour over something like this?"

"What the fuck do you mean bro? She bumped into me first! I was just teaching her-"

"I think that's enough out of you." Jake turned towards your group with a smile.

"I'm sorry about my friends actions guys. He can be a little hotheaded sometimes."

"It's fine.." you said slowly. "I ruined his shirt. But his actions were too much." You said glaring. "Please tell your friend to learn some manners "

"Oh you wanna talk about manners -"

"Alex. Shut. Up. And of course, I'll have a talk with him. You guys can go ahead."

"Thank you Jake. Guys come on, we wasted enough time. "

You picked up the bags you fell and ushered them as they quickly followed you. Niffty let out a growl while passing Alex making him shirek away in fear.

Jake waited a couple minutes after you went away.

"Jake how could you let that girl get away like that??"

"First, tell me Alex. Why are you so keen on causing trouble for me every fucking step? And secondly, how could you let a girl overpower you like that?" He scowled and looked at him with disappointment.

"Did you fucking see that girl? She ain't ordinary. She's a ogre in disguise!"

That just made Jake look more disappointed.

"Pentious, that's you right?" You asked as soon as you went outside Jake and his friends hearing range. "Yess, that's right! The great Sir Pentiouss has finally transformed. Behold my new form!"

"Mm-hmm. It suits you quite well. I like it." You said smiling warmly at him. Pentious felt his heart skip a beat as he looked away bashfully.

"(Y/n) are you alright? That bastard didn't hurt you, did he?" Vaggie quickly stepped in front you, checking you from head to toe. Her expression saddened looking at the bruised spot at your head.

"Yes, I'm fine, I'm fine. Thank you for worrying about me. That guy probably got hurt more than me." You said nervously laughing. "Do you think I maybe went too far...?"

'Went too far? Girl that was the hottest shit I ever saw!' Cherri screamed up from the bag. ' The way you pushed that guy to the ground,why didn't you do that sooner?'

"Well I did ruin his shirt so he had every reason to be mad at me. But when he went for Pentious, it pissed me off ." you blushed hearing Cherri's comment.

'Also snake guy, didn't know you had it in ya to play the role of a knight. Nice going ~'  Cherri grinned at him. Pentious felt his heart almost stop at being complimented by the two girls he liked in one day. He thanked his lucky stars.

You bought some outfits for Pentious before jumping into your car again. The rest of the ride was smooth as you came home. Safe to say, everyone was shocked as hell seeing Pentious. Especially Angel.

'Now wait hold on a sec. How the fuck did he transform before me? I thought I was after Niffty?'

'I guess it doesn't work that way. You're stuck with me Angie' Cherri grinned at him. 'Maybe I'll transform before you and carry you around '

As the pair bickered, you thanked Alastor for watching over the house and told Vaggie and Charlie to sort through the groceries as you rushed to your laptop to work. You couldn't afford to dilly-dally in your work now more then ever.

'Niffty, I assume you remember every little detail up to his transformation?'

" Yes sir. I do!"

As such, Niffty begins to tell Alastor every last detail of their shopping trip. "And the bad boy snatched her collar and Pentious jumped from the bag. He was like, I will sssave (y/n)!" She mimicked Pentious's tone. "And then he turned into a human and went to save her. But she didn't really need saving though."

'What do you mean?'

"She took the bad boy by herself. She slammed him right in the ground and swore she'd break his bones!"

'Interesting....I'd expect no less from her.'

A grin spread across his face. You were quite the specimen indeed. The only problem was he still wasn't sure exactly what made Pentious transform. Was it his desire to protect you? But you didn't need any protecting when Charlie, Vaggie or Niffty transformed. So what exactly could it be.

You took a little break in the afternoon to eat something and shower. Then you jumped right back to work. You finally finished your job around 7 pm. You streached your body as Charlie brought you a cup of coffee.

"Thanks Char, I really needed this."

"No problem! Also how's your head feeling..?"

"Oh this?" You put a hand on the bruise, or the little line that was left. Vaggie insisted on healing you as you worked and you couldn't say no. "It's a lot better thanks to Vaggie."

Charlie's face beamed with joy. "I'm glad to hear it." You stood up and laid down on the bed, relaxing. You opened up your fanfic tabs on mobile. Your face beamed with joy seeing some of your favourite ones got updated.

You drowned yourself so much into the fic that you never noticed Niffty sliding up beside you and reading alongside. You were about to get to a good part. You smirked, you were waiting for so long for the smut and here it was!

"Ohh, spicy~" Niffty giggled beside you making you yelp and let go of your phone. It fell flat on your face. "N-niffty how long have you been there?" You quickly asked.

"For a while, now pick up the phone! Alastor was just about to use the tentac-"

You moved you hand at lightning speed to cover her mouth. "Shut.it."

'Hm, did I hear my name?' Just then, due to fantastic luck, Alastor walks inside the room. He raised one of his eyebrows seeing you grasp Niffty's face like that and looking at him like you've seen a ghost.

"Oh heeeey Alastor! Lovely weather we're having right?" You chuckled nervously while taking back your hand from Niffty. "Niffty, if you so much as breathe any of this to him, I will confiscate every cleaning supplies I swear to god." you mumbled under your breath still keeping a smile and looking at Alastor.

"Wah huh? That's not fair..." She pouted and crossed her arms. 'It's night and you can't see the weather outside, the window's are locked..' Alastor eyed you suspiciously. It was obvious you were trying to hide something from him.

"Anyways, I think it's about time we start looking through the job descriptions!" You suddenly sprang up from the bed, phone in hand as you called out to Vaggie, Charlie and Pentious now.

They soon joined you at the dining table. "Okay, from what I could gather about possible jobs quickly... Charlie and Vaggie, there's a new post for a waiter in one of the small cafes in the town. They're having trouble recruiting people since it's not well known yet. So if any of you two apply, they might not question you much. There's also a spot open for a cashier. But it might be hard to get the job there since it's a popular place. "

"Oh, then what about me?" Niffty said swinging her feet from her chair. "Me as well, I would like to help you as I'm capable!" Pentious said from the other side of the table. "Niffty, for now, I couldn't find any perfect job for you. I'll keep looking. And Pentious, you are an inventor right?" You asked.

"That I am! The greatest inventor ever to be born!" He smirked closing his eyes and pulled on his bow tie. You smiled "That means fixing little knick-knacks should be easy for you correct?"

"Yes I suppose so..why?"

"Then If I buy some broken or damaged goodies and you could fix them and could resell it! It could be quite handy!"

"Oh yes of course! I can also make new inventions to sell! Like the latest version of my death ray!"

"Maybe just stick to fixing things please..."

You all talked about it for a few more. Explaining this and that to them. After some time, it was decided that they'll try for the cafe. The store would be second option.

"Also I have a another question for you all.." you looked at the half human group in front of you. "If you eat things as an animal and then change into human. Do you still feel hungry or does it cause you any problems?"

They all looked at each other. "Well, I haven't tried something like that yet so I can't really tell." Charlie answered. "Me neither. But why suddenly this question?" Vaggie asked you.

"Well I was wondering, if you guys eating as animals can satisfy your hunger as well then it might be useful to save money in future! " You hopefully said. "Not that I don't want you guys to stay as humans and eat human foods as well, it's just it would be nice to have an alternative!!"

"No, no it's fine! You have a clever way of thinking (Y/n). " Charlie reassured you. "I can try tonight! I volunteer to test it out!" Niffty quickly said.

"Then I'll give you some cooked meat now to eat as a puppy. It's best to not give dog food in case something does go wrong."

You concluded the talking there and moved to the kitchen to prepare dinner. Charlie helped you. Soon you, Charlie, Vaggie and Pentious sat down to eat as Husk, Niffty, Angel and Cherri got their own food. Alastor usually eats from outside before evening but you gave him some fruits as well.

It turns out eating foods as an animal does actually satisfy your hunger. That was one question out of the way. Pentious went to take a shower before sleeping and changed into new cloths. He discovered he had forked tongue, fangs and slit eye just like in hell. He had some scales covering his body as well. Looking down he found out he also still had two dicks.

Now as for sleeping, you took a mattress and slept on the floor of your room and Pentious slept on the lounge with Alastor. Niffty turned into a puppy and slept beside you while cuddling. Charlie wanted to turn into a sheep to cuddle as well but didn't say anything. Maybe someday later.

You ordered a couple pack of trading cards before sleeping. You gave up on the pins and early access. Just having cards would suffice for now.

The next day you woke up to Niffty barking happily at you. "I'm up, I'm up" you chuckled sitting up straight. Niffty turned into a human and smiled at you. After freshening up you found that Pentious was trying his hand in cooking today.

After eating, this time you went to town with Charlie, Vaggie and Pentious. You couldn't afford to wait least someone else should take the post.

You prayed that either Charlie or Vaggie lands the job. With high hopes in heart, you four departed.

A.N: So I read from somewhere that Niffty cannonically reads and likes fanfics so I decided to put it here-

Sorry if the pacing is a bit slow 😅

Also I've been trying for more than half an hour but I can't solve the tagging problem 😭😭

For some reason two of you guys blogs wouldn't show up even though I tried multiple times:')

Tag list : @legostars @glowinthedarkbones1150 @darifes @aria-tempest @rainbowcake1212 @luxylucylou

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #charlie x reader #vaggie x reader #angel dust x reader #husk x reader #cherri bomb x reader #sir pentious x you #sir pentious x reader #human charlie #human vaggie #human niffty #human sir pentious #alastor #Charlie #Vaggie #niffty #husk #angel dust

[ficsforeren]

Our Little Secret - Chapter 6 (End)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Eren Jaeger X Female Reader

Genre: College AU, Spider-Man/Spider-Girl AU, Fluff, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Eventual Smut

Series Summary: Eren Jaeger, a 21-year-old virgin college student who loves his camera a little bit too much, has a crush on you. Every night, he switches on his camera and talks about you but he never could find the courage to speak to you in real life. Strangely enough, he finds it easy for him to befriend Spider-Girl, the crime fighting vigilante, not knowing that you both share the same identity.

Chapter Summary: Eren still can't believe that he just went on a date with the most popular girl in school and kissed the hottest superheroine in town all in one night. He tells himself that he has to make a decision—to choose between you and Spider-Girl, not knowing that you two are the same person. Well, maybe it's time for you to reveal your little secret.

Content Warnings: swearing, mentions of characters going through depression, traumatic past events, a little bit of smut near the end (not too explicit)

Word Count: 16k

Poster art by the most talented @rainbuniart on Twitter

Armin Arlert loves Eren Jaeger. He does. He really does, like in a platonic-but-can-also-be-qualified-as-super-gay-way-sometimes. 

He adores him. Might even name his fictional son after him in the future, who knows? He thinks Eren is the best friend he could ever ask for. Armin wouldn’t put his life on the line to save him, true, (‘cause as much as he loves the guy, that bitch can die on his own since it will probably be because of his damn fault anyway), but he would definitely sacrifice his most precious body pillow if Eren’s life depends on it and that’s saying something. Actually, hold up. Let’s not make any hasty decisions here. It’s a special, limited edition dakimakura with his fictional wife printed on it while wearing a slutty maid outfit. He ain’t gonna throw those glorious 2D titties just for Eren’s lousy ass.

Though his actions may speak otherwise, Armin does care about him. More than he has ever cared about anyone else, really. Even on those days back in high school when he was a bit… bicurious, Armin had imagined himself—more than once (or ten)—being with Eren and how hot it would be if he had Eren all tied up on his bed with his body shrouded by wet tentacles that were stimulating each of his sensitive spots. He knew it was weird to imagine his best friend begging him with tears in his eyes, saying lewd things like “Please, Master Arlert, please give me your thick, hard cock and fill me up with your seeds. I want you to breed me like a fucking whore,” but Armin was an eighteen-year-old virgin with a raging sexual desire, okay? Can you really blame him? (yes, please blame him, he's insane).

It didn’t help that Eren looked so pretty with his hair down either, especially when he was sitting half-naked on Armin’s bedroom floor during those hot summer days with a popsicle stuck inside his mouth, making questionable groaning and sucking noises as he jammed his thumbs against his X-Box controller. It also didn’t help that Armin had watched too much hentai in his spare time but at least, he was proud of it. Eren watched tentacles porn too—and enjoyed it—but he would always pretend he didn’t and say that he preferred lesbian porn just so he could “fit in” and “be normal” or whatever. Fucking coward.

We’re getting sidetracked but the point is, Armin loves Eren to the moon and back, but sometimes, sometimes, he just wants to break all 206 bones in his body, squeeze him into a pulp and flush him down the toilet. And by sometimes, he means now.

“Armin!” He can hear the sounds of small rocks hitting his window, followed by Eren’s husky voice calling his name in a mix between a shout and a whisper. “Armin! Dude, wake up!”

Armin only has one eye opened, glowering at the digital clock on his desk that shows it’s two in the fucking morning. His parents might be heavy sleepers—the government has to drop a nuclear bomb for them to wake up—but Armin needs complete silence to be able to wane into his dreamland (which would be the only place for him to be embraced by his fox-eared waifu). He tries to ignore the asshole standing outside his window, but that so-called green-eyed butthole is as stubborn as he is relentless. 

Gathering a handful of pebbles, Eren throws them one by one, continuously hissing Armin’s name like a demonic cat. With each stone hitting his window, Armin transforms even further into a seething monster. By the sixteenth pebble Eren throws, the blonde-haired boy pushes himself off the bed, grabs the baseball bat he hides inside his closet—which he bought not for sport, but for this very reason—and stomps his way to the front door.

“Armin!” Eren rejoices when he sees his best friend walking past his lawn, moving toward him. “Oh, thank God, you’re awake! I need to talk to you—WAIT, WAIT, WAIT, WHAT ARE YOU PLANNING TO DO WITH THAT BAT?!”

“I’M GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU, JAEGER!”

It’s always like this with them—Eren annoying the shit out of him and Armin trying to kill him two or three times in a row—but it would all end well, not with laughter, but with a massive bump on Eren’s head that may or may not be big enough to trigger permanent brain damage. But then again, Eren is already an idiot. He’s probably maxed out at this point. 

“One of these days, Arlert,” Eren groans in pain, rubbing the back of his skull as he wills his tears to stop brimming in his eyes. “I’m gonna file a restraining order on you.”

“That’s my line, you nincompoop.”

“I don’t know what nincompoop means but that doesn't sound pretty.”

The two boys sit on the little stairs that lead to Armin’s porch (five feet apart ‘cause they’re not gay). Armin still has his baseball bat between his legs, his golden hair all tousled from his one-hour sleep. Eren, who’s usually attentive to another person’s well-being, is too excited to pay attention to the bags forming under his eyes. Playfully bumping his shoulder against Armin’s, he asks him, “Dude, guess who just had his first kiss tonight?”

“Why do we strive for perfection if it is not attainable?” Armin says, dramatically sighing into the night. “What is the meaning of a good life? Is there a meaning in life itself? Are we human or are we dancers?”

Eren, now confused, has his smile wavering. “The hell are you talking about?”

“Oh, I thought we were just throwing out random questions.”

“That last one wasn’t even a question. That was `Are We Human’ by The Killers.”

“Yes and they were asking us whether we are human or dancers when they should have been asking: why can’t we be both?”

“It’s me,” Eren replies flatly. “I just had my first kiss.”

“Oh, wow, congratulations. I did not see that coming at all.” There’s no mirth or enthusiasm on Armin's face. He's just clapping his hands as he keeps his voice monotone. “Your lips aren’t a virgin anymore. Make sure they don’t turn into a whore.”

Eren, well-accustomed to his sarcasm, remains unfazed, continuously acting like the love-struck puppy that he is. “Aren’t you gonna ask me how it felt like?” He wiggles his eyebrows, showcasing a cheeky grin. “I’ll give you a clue. The word starts with an A and ends with a G.”

“Anal Rimming?”

Eren sends him a flat stare. “It’s amazing.”

“Sure, if you say so. I mean, I’ve never done anal or rimming before so I wouldn’t know, but hey, if it’s amazing then good for you, buddy.”

“I meant the kiss, Armin!”

This attitude Armin is throwing at him is his way of saying dude, I love you but I’m so fucking pissed at you right now, and Eren understands how much he’s being selfish for taking Armin’s precious sleeping time. He knows and he apologizes for it. But if he doesn’t tell Armin about the kiss—about how he’s both overjoyed and conflicted by it—he’s sure as hell he’s going to lose his mind. 

Armin, despite how snarky he is, can only exhale exaggeratedly in defeat once Eren puts his best-kicked puppy look on display. “Fine, you twat. Spill.”

And with his permission, Eren’s words come rushing in like a bullet train. “Dude, it was insane.” Whenever he thinks about the kiss, the first thing Eren feels is joy. The kind of joy that is so fierce, it leaves him burned and paralyzed by it. “I’ve been imagining what my first kiss was gonna be like since forever but even the sweetest dream wouldn’t be able to compare to how amazing it was.”

Armin can see it—that glow on his face. It’s the first time he’s ever witnessed his best friend being this happy. It's disgusting. “You sound like that sappy Aerosmith song.”

“And to think that I was having my first kiss upside down!”

“Wait, what?” Armin finally shows a reaction, his eyebrows adjoined in the middle. “Upside-down?”

“Yeah, she was hanging upside down.”

“Hanging? How—why—” You know that Jackie Chan meme? The one with him looking all confused? Yeah, that’s Armin right now. “Where were you? In her room?”

“Umm… no. We were outside.”

“In public?”

“Yeah, but no one was around. Oh wait, there were like three guys around us but they were unconscious.”

The more he explains, the more perplexed Armin becomes. “Why were they—no, who were they?”

“Just some dudes wanting to steal my camera.” Eren turns sheepish, his index finger scratching his cheek at the memory of you fighting so gracefully under the rain, almost like dancing. The words he says don’t match his expression at all. “They had, like, a knife against my throat. It was really scary.”

“Oh yeah, I can tell, ‘cause you’re blushing so hard right now.” At this rate, being sarcastic is the only way for Armin to keep himself sane.

Eren, to Armin’s horror, giggles. “I remember the way she came by. It was so dramatic. She beat their asses to save my life like bam, kapoww, kapoww!”

Almost getting hit by Eren’s lame attempt at re-enacting your punches, Armin cringed, “Please stop.” 

“We kinda flirted a little bit after that and I just, you know…” Eren has really turned into a thirteen-year-old girl at this point. “I kissed her. She was hanging upside down. There was rain pouring above our heads and we were, like, smiling into the kiss. It was so romantic.”

Fuck Jackie Chan. That meme needs to be reinvented using Armin’s face now. He’s more confused than any Chinese man could ever be. “Hold up, you fucker.” He pushes his eyeglasses up his nose, a pair of sapphire eyes scrutinizing Eren's face as if he could find the answer if he looks hard enough. “How and why was she hanging upside down?”

“Well, she was about to swing away when I stopped her and so she was hanging onto her web and—”

“Her web?” This dude makes absolutely no fucking sense! Armin is now picturing you (not Spider-Girl. You.) in your preppy girl outfit hanging upside down on a tree like a fucking monkey, exchanging tongues and saliva with an actual monkey who was twice your size. The result? Absolutely ludicrous. “Dude, what kind of kinky shit are you guys into?!”

And it’s only then that Eren remembers something. “Oh, no, you’re getting the wrong idea. I wasn’t talking about her. I kissed a different girl.”

“You kissed a diff—” Armin stops himself before he explodes. Taking a deep breath, exhaling with his eyes closed, he mutters under his voice, “Lord, give me strength.” When he blinks open his eyes again, Armin seems much calmer, although his grip around his baseball bat is tightening twice as hard. His fingers are just itching to smack the shit out of his best friend. Again.

Eren, scared for his life, has both hands in the air. “Calm down, Min.”

“I’m calm, I’m calm.” But he takes another deep breath just in case. Armin smiles—that kind of deadly smile that doesn’t reach his eyes—when he asks, “Let’s start from the beginning. You went on a date with Miss Popular.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“But you didn’t kiss her and instead you kissed someone else.”

Now that Armin phrases it like that, that feeling of remorse that Eren felt an hour ago comes back rushing in. Eren still loathes himself for kissing another girl right after his date with you ended but the thing is, it felt right. It felt like it was something he had been wishing to happen for years. He had spent all this time imagining what it would be like to share a chaste kiss under the rain with you—the college version of you. But when the moment was there, he couldn’t do it. It didn’t feel right. He felt guilt at that time, knowing that Spider-Girl kept showing up in his head when he was supposed to be thinking about you. But he didn't feel any of that when he shared those kisses with that alter ego of yours. He just felt joy. It felt amazing. It felt right. 

But with Armin confronting him about it, he returns to the dilemma he was drowning himself in a few hours ago. The time when he realized that he was in love with Spider-Girl instead of you.

“Yeah,” Eren admits in shame, casting his gaze downward. “I kissed someone else.”

Armin fixes his glasses again, just so he’d have something to do instead of looking flabbergasted at the revelation. “And who did you kiss?”

“Umm… Spider-Girl.”

Armin looks at him and Eren looks back. Three seconds pass by in silence and then—

“AW!” Eren shouts in reflex, not caring if it’s two-thirty in the morning, right after Armin smacked him with the end of his baseball bat. “Dude, stop doing that! It hurts!”

“You’re fucking with me,” Armin says, hitting him repetitively on his side. “You’re absolutely fucking with me right now. Can’t believe I woke up to listen to you spouting bullshit!”

“I’m not bullshitting you!” Eren winces, trying to dodge his next attack.

“You’re saying you kissed one of the town's hottest superheroines? The same girl who took down the Lizard—no, the same girl who looks smoking hot in that white spandex—you kissed that girl?”

“Yes! Fuck—Stop hitting me!” Eren, at some point, manages to snatch away the bat from Armin’s grip. His body feels sore all over, even more than when he fought those men in the alley. “Yes, Armin, I kissed her.”

“Yeah,” Armin snorts. “And I just had some raunchy sex in the barn with Green Goblin. Expect his babies to pop out of my ass in nine months.”

The brunette rolls his eyes. “Look, Spider-Girl and I have been friends for weeks now. Here.” Eren retrieves his phone from his pocket, going through his gallery before he shows the selfie he took with you in your costume on the night you shared stories on the rooftop of St. Mark’s theater. You were both so close to each other, shoulders nearly squeezed together as you tried to fit your faces inside the frame. Eren had the biggest, gleeful grin, his skin seemingly tanner than usual next to your white mask and hoodie. Armin examines the picture with suspicious eyes, his gaze shifting back and forth from his friend’s face to his phone. 

“Hmm, very convincing,” Armin comments. “Not sure where you found the skill to photoshop this shit so fast when it took you a week to choose a fucking filter for your Twitter PFP but okay. Assume that I believe you—I don’t,” he emphasizes. “But for the sake of our conversation, let’s just assume I do."

"Fine." 

"So you kissed her.”

“Yeah.”

“Upside down in the rain?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“And how was it?”

“It was…” Eren’s cheeks sizzle at the memory. “They were… soft. Her lips, I mean. They were so soft and they tasted… sweet.”

Armin’s expression turns from suspicious to I’m-tired-of-your-shit-Jaeger in 0.2 seconds. “I was thinking more like it was bad because I’m sure she had rain clogging up her nose, ‘cause that would’ve sounded more realistic, but sure, let’s be corny.”

“Wait,” Eren blanches. “Do you think she was uncomfortable?” It’s stupid that he only realizes this now, but then again, what else is new?

“Yeah, well,” Armin shrugs. “Hanging upside down certainly didn’t seem like it was the best position to make out in, 'cause you have blood rushing to your head and all. And since it was raining, she definitely had water getting up her nose.”

“Oh my God,” Eren utters in horror, his hands going to his head. “Why didn’t I think about that?”

“Probably cause you were too busy sticking your tongue down her throat.”

Eren has no consistency in managing his emotions because at one point he was panicking, and now, he’s back to giggling like a schoolgirl. “Yeah, we used tongue a few times. It was so exciting.”

“Give me back my bat. I’m gonna kill myself with it.”

But jokes aside, the question remains. How could Eren, who has zero games in dating as far as Armin knows, kiss another girl—and not just another girl, Spider-Girl—right after he went on a date with one of his campus’ most popular girls? Even the sentence sounds bizarre and he hasn’t spoken them out loud. Most importantly, though, why? Why did Eren do it? “I thought you were in love with her,” Armin says. “Miss Popular, I mean. You spent the entire summer jerking off to that one picture of her wearing that short skirt and now you’re saying you like some other girl whose face you don’t even know?”

“Did you have to phrase it like that?” Eren mumbles in shame though he can’t deny the fact that he did spend—well, not the entire summer, the entire two weeks, probably—masturbating to the thoughts of you. It wasn’t the proudest moment in his life, but in his defense, that skirt you wore looked super cute on you. “I know, I fucked up,” he sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m the worst.”

“How did this even happen?”

Eren tells him everything, and the more details he reveals, the harder he drowns in his guilt. He feels like he just betrayed and disrespected you—both you and Spider-Girl and it hurts him terribly because he still can’t decide between the two of you. He’s so conflicted he feels like he’s about to vomit his insides. 

“It’s so weird, you know?” Eren says. “At the end of the date, I was sure she wanted me to kiss her. I mean, like, the moment was there. We both felt it, and I wanted to do it but I… I kept thinking about Spider-Girl and it just felt… wrong. I didn’t want our first kiss to go that way—me kissing a girl while thinking about another girl. It wouldn’t be fair to her.”

“Should’ve just kissed her, in my opinion,” Armin counters. “If you had done it, it would’ve been easier for you to make sure of your feelings now.”

 “But that would’ve made me the biggest asshole in the world.”

“You are the biggest asshole in the world. But yeah, probably. Did it feel right when you kissed Spider-Girl?”

Though the remorse on Eren’s face still stands vividly, some of it morphs into delight at the memory. “Yes, it was,” he admits. “It felt like… something I should’ve done weeks ago, you know? Like, why didn’t I realize sooner that I’m in love with her kind of feeling. And I keep thinking about everything—about my feelings toward Spider-Girl and my feelings toward her and it’s stressing me out. Do you think a man can be in love with two girls at the same time?”

“You’re talking to a guy who has, like, seven different waifus. Of course, you can,” Armin snorts. “The problem is, unlike my wives who don’t know I exist, you have to choose. Unless you want to continue being a gigantic fucking asshole for the rest of your life, you need to decide who you want to be with.”

“I know...” Eren starts chewing on the inside of his cheek. It feels like he has a storm raging inside him. “I think I’m in love with Spider-Girl because I feel like… I know her better. I mean, I’ve been spending more time with her, so she feels more like a person to me. More… You know, real.”

Armin nods. “But when you went on a date with Miss Popular, did you enjoy it?”

“I did.” His answer is immediate. “More than I expected I would. She was so nice and funny and she… She gave me a scarf ‘cause she thought I was cold. She was so caring. She was great.”

“What if her personality is just as attractive as Spider-Girl’s then?” Armin provides a new perspective—a genuinely good one, which is rare considering how big of a pervert he is. “I feel like you just need some time to get to know her better.”

“Yeah, but how can I do that if I keep thinking about Spider-Girl? What if every time I see her, all I do is compare her traits to hers? It’s not fair.”

“Okay, let me ask you this,” Armin sighs loudly into the air. “Can you really see yourself dating a superhero? You don’t even know her real identity or what she looks like. What if she’s ugly?”

“I don’t care how she looks.” Determination stands thick in Eren’s voice. “It’s her—” He clears his throat, his face turning scarlet. “I-it’s her heart that I love.”

“Oh my God, I’m gonna throw up on you.” 

“I mean like her mannerisms!” Eren hastily adds when Armin threatens to jam a finger inside his own mouth. “Her attitudes, the way she talks, the way she thinks, and the stuff we talk about—that’s what I care about the most. She’s my best friend.”

“Excuse me?” Armin repeats, offended, picking up his weapon.

“A-after you, of course.”

“That’s right, bitch.” He drops his baseball bat back to the ground. “Okay, fine, you don’t care if she’s ugly. Not my problem. But does she like you?”

“I think so? I mean, she kept asking me to kiss her again. You don’t do something like that with someone you don’t like, right?”

“Yeah, well, strangers fuck at nightclubs all the time. I won’t think too much over a kiss.”

The pretty shade of red that paints Eren’s face turns pale by the second. “You don’t think she likes me?”

“I do, but is it enough for her to want to date you?” Armin lands a hand on the other man’s shoulder, giving him his best sympathetic look. “I wouldn’t be so sure, man. Look, I’m not trying to sound like a douchebag for crushing your R-rated dream so early like this but you’re my friend and you need a reality check so here it goes. She’s a superhero. Okay? She’s busy. She doesn’t have time to play tonsil hockey with nerds like us. Plus, if she cares about you then maybe she won’t date you ‘cause you’ve seen what happened to Mary Jane, right? That chick got taken hostage at least once a week these days, ’cause of what?”

“Umm… Cause she’s dating Peter Parker?”

“That’s absolutely right, you nincompoop.”

“Like I said, I don’t know what nincompoop means.”

“At this point, MJ doesn’t even scream anymore when she has a gun pointed at her head. She’s just like—” Armin pretends he has his smartphone between his hands, his thumbs moving to type something. He keeps his face blank and his voice monotone, talking in an exaggerated New York accent. “‘Oh no, please, don’t hurt me, I’m scareeeed. Hashtag SpideyDrama, hashtag Spidey-MJLoveStory. Take a cute selfie with my kidnapper—” He pretends to take a picture, puckering his lips while forming a peace sign with his two fingers. “—aaaand post.’”

Under different circumstances, Eren would have laughed. Armin’s impression of her was spot on. “Yeah, but that’s because everyone knows that Peter is Spider-Man. No one knows who Spider-Girl is.”

“Yes, but if you keep making out with her in public, they’ll know about you, and then what? You want to start doing your own TikTok trend? Hashtag PrayforErenJaegerTheNewDamselinDistress?” Eren parts his lips to answer but he’s stopped by two hands squeezing him by the shoulders. “Look. Just give Miss Popular another try, okay? It’s easier to be with her than being with Miss Vigilante, I promise you. Plus, Spider-Girl knows how you feel about her, right? Don’t you think it would make you sound like a player if you talked like a lovesick fool about another girl, but then you confessed to her three days later?”

Again, it’s absolutely ridiculous that Eren just realized this now. “You’re right,” he utters in horror. “Holy shit, you’re right.”

“Of course, I am.” Armin scoffs, tossing back his imaginary long hair over his shoulder. “Forget about Spider-Girl for now. Give it a week or two to sort out your feelings. Or focus on something else, like jerk off to your favorite tentacle porn or something. If you still feel like you can’t move on from her then, we’ll go to Plan B.”

“W-what is that?”

Armin retrieves his bat. “Me, beating the shit out of you until you suffer from a massive concussion and forget about this whole thing.”

“Yeah, why don’t we just stick to Plan A for now, thanks. But no tentacle porn.”

"Pfft, whatever, your loss."

***

You have never—never—felt like you were floating in the clouds after sharing a kiss with a boy, and yet there you are, climbing through your window with the biggest dopey smile on your face. You take off your mask, throwing yourself on your bed with the longest, most blissful, content sigh you’ve ever heaved in your life. 

You have two fingers tracing over the seam of your lips, your skin somehow still tingles whenever the memory of that kiss resurfaces. The sweet, pleasant taste of his mouth still lingers near. The soft texture of his lips is the best thing you’ve ever felt against your own. 

“Eren…” His name drifts past your lips and you find yourself giggling, turning over to your stomach before you let out a high-pitched scream against your pillow. It felt like a first love’s kiss and perhaps it was since he is your first love, isn’t he? You haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. Every cell in your body seems to scream I love him, I love him, I love him every time his smile appears behind your closed lids. It feels like you’re thirteen again, just a lovesick girl whose fingers are itching to pour every emotion you felt into your journal. 

Dear diary, I’m in love. 

You didn’t think your first kiss with him would be like that, but it was ten times better. No, a million times better, even if you did have rain clogging up your nose at some point. Eren was so… passionate, you think to yourself as you feel your stomach flipping at the memory of his lips melding against yours. You may be a virgin, but unlike him, you have experienced many first kisses before and none of them was this memorable. None of them managed to awaken the butterflies in your stomach as his kisses did. And none of those boys tasted as good as he was.

“I am down so bad,” you sigh as you hug your pillow close to your chest, a dreamy smile sketched upon your lips. I can’t wait for tomorrow to come. I want to see him. I want to be with him again.

With that thought in mind, you begin to create your diabolical plan to reveal your true identity to him. As cute as he was looking all conflicted from falling in love with both you and Spider-Girl, you decide not to torture him even longer. It’s unbelievable, the amount of elation you felt the moment you realized that he’s fallen for Spider-Girl. It’s clear proof that he wasn’t just attracted to your looks, but your personality too. It puts you at ease, knowing that he keeps catching feelings no matter what persona you’re putting in front of him. He fell for you when you were just an innocent little girl who couldn’t do anything but fangirl over Wonder Woman all day. He fell for you when he saw you stepping onto the podium to accept your science medal, blinding everyone with your perfect smile. And he fell for Spider-Girl, your alter ego that embodied your true personality.

I wonder how you would react when you find out that I’m all those three?

“Maybe I should step up my game,” you mumble to yourself. “Maybe I should be a little…”

The corners of your mouth curve up. Your smirk is just straight-up evil at this point. Hell, even Norman Osborn didn’t look this wicked when he turned into Green Goblin. 

“Aggressive.”

***

When Eren told his brother, Zeke Jaeger, that he wanted to borrow his motorcycle to pick up a girl this morning, his brother was on the floor. Literally on the floor. 

Zeke was skeptical at first, snorting loudly as he muttered, “Pfft. As if you could get a girl to notice you. Bet my ass you’re just being delusional.” But then Eren, heaving the biggest sigh, raised his phone in the air, flashed his wallpaper—that one picture you took on your date with you smiling as you kissed his cheek—on his brother’s face and Zeke collapsed to his knees.

“Oh my God.” Zeke landed both palms on the parquet, eyes shaking in horror. “Oh my fucking God.”

Eren, who was accustomed to his brother’s dramatic antics, simply shrugged when his aunt Dina looked at them funny. “He’s having a moment,” he explained and Dina just returned to her cooking, not wanting to deal with any of that. 

It usually took Zeke a while to get back on his feet—literally—when he was having an episode like that. Eren simply waited with his back leaning against the wall, checking his watch with boredom written in his eyes. “Try and make it quick. I got a date.”

“I can’t believe you found yourself a girl before me,” Zeke sobbed. “I thought it was Armin dressing up as a girl again—"

“We’re over that phase now.”

“—but no, she’s actually a cute fucking chick. Probably has massive badonkers too.”

“Please don’t say that.” Great, now I can’t stop thinking about it too, Eren adds inwardly, face flushed. What if she… does have massive badonkers—I mean, tits—I mean, breasts. He shakes his head. Eren, you idiot. Who cares if she has huge boobs or not. Flat, or huge, those are still great tits—no, stop thinking about her tits!

“Fuck, what if it’s true?” Zeke looked up to his brother from below, like a tortured servant to his sadistic master. “What if she’s packing some dobonhonkeros? Like, massive dohoonkabhankoloos, ya know what I mean? Big old tonhongerekoogers—”

“Language, Zeke,” Dina chimes in from the kitchen. “I don’t understand what you’re saying but I know they’re filthy words so stop it.” 

Eren, in the meantime, is conflicted between not thinking about your breasts or smacking the shit out of his brother. “You’re being disrespectful, stop it.”

“GOD, I WANT A GIRLFRIEND—”

“JUST GIVE ME THE GODDAMN KEYS!”

Zeke, almost with tears painting his eyes, handed them over to him. “Once you’re finished with it, do me a favor and just run me over. I don’t have the dignity to keep on living anymore.”

“Will do,” Eren said—promised—as he threw a black leather jacket on top of his white shirt. “I’ll be back in two hours,” he informed his aunt. “We’re just gonna study in my room after that.”

“Studying each other’s bodies?” Zeke uttered with jealousy coating his tongue. “Gross.”

“Statistics, actually.” Eren planted a small peck on Dina's cheek. “See you, Aunt Dina.”

“Bye, love,” Dina chuckled, seemingly proud that her nephew—one that she regarded as her own child, unlike the other one—was old enough to bring a pretty girl home with him. “Make sure to bring her something. Us girls love gifts.”

“Okay.”

“And buy some condoms on your way home.”

Eren nearly tripped over his feet. “I-it’s not like that!”

Zeke was lying flat on the floor at this point, like a stabbed victim on a crime scene, only in his case, the knife was invisible and he was bleeding tears from his eyes. “When can I get myself some bonkhonagahoogs…”

“Please kick him out before I get home,” Eren said.

“Trust me, darling,” Dina sighed. “I've been trying to do that since day one.”

“Guys, I’m literally right here.”

“Shut up, Zeke.”

***

Eren is just as jittery as he was during his first date with you, only this time, it’s ten times worse as he keeps thinking about Spider-Girl no matter how much he tries not to. The guilt he felt over the kiss sticks permanently in his mind, and it feels like he just committed adultery with a church elder or something when he isn’t even in a relationship with you—any version of you. But even so, he tries to stick close to his plan. He has promised to spend some time studying for finals with you, and he intends to give his full attention to you and no one else. Since he’d brought you a bouquet yesterday, he decided to buy you homemade chocolate truffles from this cute candy store downtown, one that Dina claimed to be the best one in the world. 

He arrives two hours early at your ballet studio, feeling so nervous to see you again that he feels like the whole world is spinning too fast before him. He’s waiting outside in the parking lot, leaning against Zeke’s all-black Royal Enfield Classic 350 with his phone in one hand and his head on the clouds.

What am I going to say to her? Can I even act normally around her? What if she—

“Eren.”

“Fuck!” The boy jumps on his feet, almost losing his grip on his phone from how startled he is. He spins his head around to the side, spotting you standing close with your gym bag slinging on one shoulder. His shock-filled eyes quickly traverse down your body, taking in the sight of you dressed casually in your fitted black tank top and white track jacket. “W-why are you not wearing your tutus?”

Out of all the things he could’ve said, of course, that’s the first thing that comes out of his mouth. “Because I’m still outside and my practice isn’t going to start for another ten minutes?” You reply with a hint of teasing in your voice. “You look handsome today, by the way. I always think you look hotter wearing a leather jacket instead of a hoodie. Not that I don’t like it, though. Hoodies make you look cute.”

This is an ambush, Eren thinks. You, casually throwing your compliment at him as if it’s nothing, feel like a fucking ambush to him. “I—Umm—You look—You look cute too.”

“Thank you,” you titter. “I can’t believe you arrived here before me.”

“Oh... Y-yeah.” It suddenly feels like it’s twenty degrees hotter for him. “I guess I was a little early.”

“As always,” you toss him a smile—the one that has the perfect amount of beauty and shyness that makes his heart swell in his chest. “You’re not planning to wait out here for two hours, are you?” When Eren has no answer to give, you chuckle. “Gosh, you are too cute. Come here.”

“Huh?” 

“You can wait inside.” It’s so natural the way you tangle your hand around his even when you can feel your own heart palpitating. “It’s warmer there.”

Eren, with his cheeks turning scarlet, follows after you. “Is—is it really okay?”

“Well, no. Usually, we don’t allow strangers to watch our rehearsals.”

“Then, why—”

“Relax, Ren.” You hurl a wink at him. “Petra—my instructor—is a close friend of my mother. I’ll just tell her you’re my boyfriend and she’ll make an exception for me.”

Three things left him dumbfounded. The first one is clearly the fact that you just called him your boyfriend. Second, it’s that naughty, naughty wink you threw at him, one that matches your cute little devilish grin. But none of those were as surprising as the way you called him with that nickname. 

Ren.

You’ve never called him that before, have you? But Spider-Girl called him Ren all the time, which is why to his ears, it sounds so familiar. The way you said it. The way your voice sounded when you did. Even if his mind tries to deny it, his heart still pounds. It feels so strange for this to just be a coincidence but you don’t give him a chance to think about it long.

“I’m gonna go change into my tutus, okay?” You tease him once you enter the studio, chuckling at your own words. “You can sit at the back. Try not to stare at the other girls as you wait.”

He knows he’s dumb but today he just feels ten times dumber and it shows. “W-why not?”

“Well, obviously, because you’re pretending to be my boyfriend today.” You reach out a hand to fix the collar of his jacket, watching him flinch at the way your fingers brush against his collarbone. “And also…” You look up at him, turning your voice into a breathy whisper as you feign a pout. “I don’t like seeing you look at other girls. I want you to look at me.” You take a hold of his key-shaped pendant, twisting your fingers around his necklace. “Only me.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. If there was steam coming out of his ears, Eren wouldn’t be surprised. He does feel like his face is about to explode. “I-I’ve only been looking at you.”

“You sure?” Your tongue peeks out to wet your lower lip and Eren swallows at the sight. “You seemed so… distracted last night. You weren't thinking about some other girl, were you?”

He’s staring at your lips. He’s definitely staring at your lips. Oh my God, her lips. “I—I didn't—I wasn’t—” He’s panicking. He’s already having a hard time trying to stay alive from your attack. You really didn’t need to bring back Spider-Girl into his head, but you did and that’s why you fit more as a supervillain instead of a hero.

Eren can practically taste the minty scent of your breath from how close you are when you grin at him. “I’m kidding,” you giggle, patting his cheek and giving him back his space. “You look like you’re about to pass out. You okay over there, big boy?”

“Yeah…” Just feeling like I’m having a cardiac arrest but I’m fine. “Good luck with your dancing—your practice. Break an arm.”

God, he’s an idiot, I love him. Refraining yourself from laughing, you stand on your toes and grant him a soft kiss on his cheek. “It’s break a leg, dummy,” you whisper in his ear, your smirk brushing against his earlobe. His face is practically in flames when you turn on your heels, tossing him one last smile before you disappear inside the changing room. 

The rehearsal starts on time and there you are, walking back into the studio dressed in pink seamed ballet tights, a black halter-neck leotard, and a pair of beige pointe shoes. Your outfit, the way the fabric hugs your body tightly, leaves no room for his imagination to wander. It’s so unfair that you look both adorable and effortlessly sexy at the same time. Eren doesn’t know whether he wants to say, “You’re so cute, I want to squeeze your cheeks!” or “You’re so hot, I wanna clap those cheeks.” He wants to do both, honestly, but he’ll need to rephrase that last line if he wants to be, ehem, respectful.

He can see your back muscles contracting as you perform, your skin glistening under the light, coated by a thin layer of sweat that somehow only makes you look more erotic. He hates the way his mind thinks, so he tries to focus on your movements instead. Every posture you strike is as graceful as it is beautiful and Eren has to remind himself to blink before his eyes fall out of his sockets from staring too long.

You try to concentrate as much as you can on the instructions Petra gives you but every time you see your reflection in the mirror, you also notice the way his eyes are entranced with every gesture you make. He’s staring at you like you’re the only girl in the room—the only girl in the world, even. As much as it pleases you to be the center of his attention, it’s also harder for you to focus on your steps. You just can’t wait for your practice to end.

Eren is so captivated by everything you do, and if he had brought his camera with him, he would’ve taken every bit of your expression. He wishes he could record everything. The way your body moves… Even the slightest lift of your finger is fascinating to him. At this moment, all thoughts about Spider-Girl vanish away from his mind. It feels like he’s falling for you all over again, his heart throbbing like on that day when he saw you on campus for the first time. You’re so pretty. So, so pretty that you leave him breathless.

“Hey,” you greet him again once your rehearsal has ended. “Sorry you had to wait long.” You’re dabbing a towel against the side of your face, gathering your belongings in your arms as the other students are making their way to the changing room without you. “I’m all sweaty so I’m just gonna go take a shower real quick. Is that okay?”

Eren can see a bead of sweat running down the side of your face, disappearing right between your cleavage. It’s the most pornographic thing he’s ever seen and this comes from the man who spent the whole summer watching questionable porn clips with Armin. It also doesn’t help that Zeke’s face keeps appearing in his mind, whispering to him, “Bro, look at those badonkers,” and no, Eren doesn’t want to look at your badonk—breasts. It’s very inappropriate, and you deserve to be respected. 

Fucking monke. Eren is going to run him over for real after this.

“Eren? You okay there?”

He coughs once, trying to focus on your face instead of your, in Zeke’s words, dohoonkabhankoloos. “Yes, I—uhh… I’ll just go wait outside, okay?”

“Okay.”

You’re not sure what you’re expecting but when Eren walks away without saying anything about your performance, you feel a sliver of disappointment growing inside you. Keeping your thoughts to yourself, you tighten your grip around your bag and pivot on your heels.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” Eren says, stopping you in your tracks. You turn around, facing him with a questioning brow. The boy smiles at you, doing it so beautifully, so delicately, so lovingly that you feel like you can fight the whole world just to protect that smile. “You look so beautiful when you dance,” he says, his eyes gleaming in the adoration he holds for you. “So graceful, you’re like, uhh… Like an angel.”

It’s corny. It’s corny and cliche, and embarrassing, and you love it. If anyone else had said it, it would’ve sounded like the cringiest pick-up line, but not him. Eren said it like a confession as if he truly felt that way and he had to tell you the truth no matter what. He doesn’t intend to sound corny, of course, but what can he do? You did look like an angel in his head. But now that he’s hearing the words out loud, he can’t help but feel mortified by them. “S-sorry,” he blushes. “I didn’t mean to sound so… lame.” 

“No, it’s fine.” You could feel a pleasant warmth pooling inside your stomach. “Thank you.” You smile back at him, a bit timidly but as beautiful as always. “Will you… come and watch my recital next time? It’s not until three months from now, but—”

“Of course!” His eyes light up in excitement, his voice loud enough to make three people turn their heads at the sound. “Of course, I would love to! Can I bring my camera with me?”

You almost laugh. He reminds you of that little Siberian husky he owns, the way she looked so excited as she ran down the street, chasing a hummingbird. “Yes. Yes, you can.”

***

There are a lot of things Eren is grateful for in his life. He’s thankful that he has his Aunt Dina taking care of him and his brother after his parents passed away. He’s thankful that he has Zeke, no matter how obnoxious he is, for always lending him his credit card whenever Eren is in desperate need of money (involuntarily, true, but let’s not get into details). He’s thankful that he has Armin in his life to knock some sense back into him, both literally and figuratively speaking. And of course, he’s thankful that he met you—every version of you, though he hasn't noticed yet. But today… Today he doesn’t direct his gratitude to his Lord. Today, he wants to thank whoever it was who decided that motorcycles should have these super cramped seats because holy shit, they’re doing God’s work.

“I’m sorry for holding onto you like this,” you say with your hands tangled around his waist, a little bit embarrassed with how close you are to him. The motorcycle itself is designed to be a two-seater, but apparently, comfort for the pillion has not been a priority—which is a good thing for Eren because you don’t have other options left but to have your front all squeezed against his spine to fit in.

“Umm…” Eren swallows and he swallows hard. You’re wearing his leather jacket above your clothes and yet he can still feel the way your breasts—oh my God, they’re so soft—are pressed against his back. Maintaining his eyes on the road, he tries to focus on his surroundings as best as he can. “I-it’s okay.”

“Are you sure you’re not cold? You can take back your jacket if you want. I can just use mine.”

“No, it’s fine. Yours is too thin.” He refrains himself from sniffling because damn it, it is cold. He should’ve thought of bringing a spare jacket for you, but no, of course, being the idiot that he was, he didn’t. “Don’t worry about it. My house isn’t far from here.”

“Okay.” Despite his reassurance, you still have your eyebrows knitted in concern as you can still feel him shivering from the cold. As a way to warm him up—which is only an excuse for you to touch him even more, and to continue with your diabolical plan—you embrace him from behind, tightening your arms around him just a little bit harder. 

Fuck, Eren thinks, face flushed. You’re plastered against him like a conjoined twin and he can feel your warmth seeping through his shirt. It’s a wonder that he’s still able to maintain his grip on his vehicle. “W-what are you doing?”

“Umm… Making you feel warm?” You reply sheepishly which drives him insane. You’re already so beautiful and sexy in his head, now you get to be so innocently adorable too?

Eren only responds with a little "Oh..." because that’s the only thing his pea-brain can manage to form with all this blood rushing to his head. God, you wish you could steal a glimpse of his face. What kind of expression does he have right now? He must look so cute.

He’s dying, that’s how he looks. Probably about to combust into flames too. Why are they so sooooft, Eren wants to whine, feeling your chest pushed up against his back even more. Is this the kind of sweet torture people talk about? The kind that makes you feel like you’re both in heaven and hell at the same time? It certainly feels like one. 

“Sorry, Ren…” Noticing the way his body is tensing, you loosen up your hold. “Am I making you feel uncomfortable?” 

“No!” Eren takes off his left hand from the steering wheel and snatches yours back before you can retrieve it. He keeps it in place, pressing your splayed fingers tight against his stomach until you can feel the shape of his abdomens underneath the thin layer of his white shirt.

“I’m not uncomfortable,” he says, his voice subdued by the wind. You fail to notice the way he stutters his words. “Hold on tight so you won’t fall."

When he’s only driving twenty miles per hour because of traffic ahead, even if you did fall, you would only get a scratch on your palm at most but neither of you cares. You both know it’s just an excuse anyway. "Okay."

"And also, uhh…” Eren is glad he has his helmet on to conceal his face. “It’s… warm. You, I mean. You're so warm.”

“I'm glad I am,” you giggle, winding your arm around him again, even going as far as resting your chin on his shoulder. Feeling a bit naughty, you lower your pitch, seduction ringing in his ears. “Kinda wish we were alone in your room right now,” you purr, your fingers hovering dangerously close above the hem of his jeans. “I know something else we can do to warm you up.”

That’s it. That’s the final string. Eren’s concentration breaks and he’s easily startled by the car driving past him on his right. Veering his vehicle immediately to the side, he nearly collides with the motorcycle on his left. 

“WATCH IT, JACKASS!”

“Sorry,” Eren mutters in chagrin, while you’re cackling like a witch behind him. From his bar-end mirror, you can see how he childishly pouts at your laughter. “Why are you laughing—that wasn’t funny!”

“It was a bit funny,” you sneer. “You panicked like a girl.”

“Well, you were saying some nasty things to me!”

“What nasty things?” 

“Y-you said you were going to do something else to warm me up.” 

“Yes, I was speaking about making some hot chocolate for you. What were you thinking about?”

He opens his mouth, closes it, and repeats these two actions three times more before he gives up and grouses, “Oh, shut up.” Eren spends the rest of his drive pretending to be upset about it, even when you can tell he’s having the hardest time masking his smile. He can’t do it for long since your giggle is infectious. 

“You seem happy,” he comments, mirroring the joy on your face. 

“That’s because I am,” you reply, snuggling close. “I feel like I’m the happiest when I’m with you.”

Oh, for fuck's sake. “Don’t make me crash our bike into another car, I swear to God—” 

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry!”

When the laughter has receded, Eren shares stories about Dina and Zeke, the two family members he loves dearly—well, he loves Dina, Zeke can go to hell (affectionately)—and how they are very excited to meet you today. But the second you arrive at his house, no one comes to answer the door.

“Weird,” Eren mutters as he walks past the entrance, dropping the keys on the counter. “I thought they’d be—” He stops short when he notices a piece of paper lying on the coffee table. With a frown, he picks it up and runs his eyes across Dina’s neat handwriting.

Zeke and I are going shopping to give you kids some time alone. We’ll eat outside too so we won’t be back until nine. Remember to use protection ;) - Love, Dina.

Eren, too busy trying to understand what the fuck is going on, doesn’t notice the way you’re standing on your toes, trying to steal a peek at the paper from behind his shoulder. Unlike him who needs a whole minute to process her words, it only takes two seconds for you to finish reading the whole thing. 

Eren shrieks at your presence, crumples the paper with both hands, tosses it inside the trash bin, and hopes the whole thing gets swallowed by hellfire. “You—You didn’t read that, did you?” It feels like he has his heart throbbing in his throat.

“Read what?” You play dumb, even tilting your head to the side for a cute, dramatic effect.

“Nothing,” he says, and when you arch your eyebrow at him, he spins you around, placing both hands on your shoulder as he guides you down the hallway. “Let’s just go to my room. Go, go, go, go, go.”

“Wait.” You stop him with one hand in the air, putting on your best solemn face. “Have you brought protection with you?”

“OH MY GOD, GO!”

***

Things aren’t going as smoothly as Eren had planned. Actually, nothing went as planned. For all he knew, all he had been doing was just turning red like a fucking tomato for the whole two hours he had spent with you, and you teasing the shit out of him. And it doesn’t seem like you’re going to stop anytime soon!

Is she planning to kill me? He sighs as he opens the door that leads to his bedroom, welcoming you in. She wasn’t like this yesterday. Now, don’t get him wrong. Eren loves how aggressive you’re being—he hasn’t unlocked his kink yet, but he’s secretly a sub who longs to be dominated by his women, both in bed and in real life—but with how smooth you’re going right now, constantly flirting with him as if it would kill you if you didn’t make him blush every ten minutes, this is getting so bad for his heart.

And it doesn’t help that he’s now alone with you in an empty house for the next—he takes a glimpse at his phone screen to check on the time—three hours and twelve minutes. His thoughts are going insane. From Dina’s message to the image of you in your skin-tight leotard, and of course, the way you embraced him on the ride home too. You’ve been giving him signs that you like him. You’re more honest and blatant compared to how you behaved during your date, and as much as he is certain that Spider-Girl is the woman he’s in love with, he can’t deny that he has feelings for you too. And the way you’re looking at him right now, sitting on the edge of his bed in your cute little red dress and your cute little matching headband with your smile never faltering away from your lips—everything about you right now is so… titillating.

“You’re such a dirty boy,” you smirk.

Eren nearly collapses. “W-what?” What the hell is happening? She can hear my thoughts now? WHAT IS GOING ON?! “What do you—I’m not—I don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I said you’re a dirty boy.” Your salacious smirk turns into a mischievous grin. “As in your room is a mess.”

“Oh!” He laughs once in relief, his hand coming up to wipe cold sweat off his forehead. “Oh, you were talking about my room, thank God.” Wait. He panics again, eyes moving back and forth from one corner to another, scanning his room. He’s sure that he’s cleaned up everything he could this morning, and by cleaning up, he means picking everything off the floor, jamming them inside his closet, and pretending that they don’t exist. Everything seems to be in order. There are no clutters on his computer desk. No laundry on the floor. Sure, the books on his shelf are in disarray, but at least they’re not too dusty. “It looks clean to me, though.”

“On the outside, sure,” you titter. “But your wardrobe looks like it’s seconds away from exploding. I don’t need to take a peek inside to know that you have dirty clothes and questionable things stored there.”

“I don’t have… q-questionable things,” Eren says very unconvincingly. Poor boy can’t lie to save his life. Unable to stand the way you narrow your eyes suspiciously at him, he sighs in defeat, “Well, it depends on how you define questionable.”

“Playboy magazines?”

“Nope.” Why should I buy one when I can just see naked girls for free on PornHub?

“Erotic novels?”

“No.” Ha ha, too bad. You were close, though, cause instead of erotic novels, I read—

“Erotic mangas, then?”

Fuck. “N-no,” he coughs out.

You wait for him, watching him with the nastiest grin you could muster until he gives up on his lies. “All right, all right, you got me,” Eren says, rolling his eyes. “I have some hentai mangas hidden in my closet. Happy now?”

“Immensely,” you chirp back and whatever it is you’re doing, it’s working well because Eren feels like he can breathe properly again. 

Now that the tension isn’t as suffocating, you both settle down on the carpeted floor, your backside leaning against the side rail of his bed. You have your textbook perched on your lap, a pen between your fingers as you teach him about univariate and bivariate transformations. Eren wears a pair of eyeglasses when he studies, and you hate whoever invented those black frames for making him look more attractive than he already is as if his little man-bun wasn’t strong enough to emphasize that. 

An hour passes by in a flash and Eren asks for a ten-minute break. You follow him to the kitchen, watching him make two cups of hot chocolate while casually throwing back some of your earlier teasings. It feels so domestic—the playful banter you throw, the way you share smiles and giggles while you both sit on the kitchen aisle with your legs dangling in the air. And while you secretly fantasize about spending every morning with him like this, Eren is constantly reminded of the time he spent with Spider-Girl.

Why does this feel so familiar? He ponders. Is your personality similar to hers? Is it the way you talk? Or is it because he unconsciously starts projecting Spider-Girl on you? Because he can’t stop thinking about her even when he’s trying his best to focus on you today? He grows restless at the thoughts. Because if that’s the case, then what’s the point of doing this? It’s clear that he’s still searching for Spider-Girl everywhere he goes. Even when he’s seeing you, he still thinks about her. He was sure he managed to forget about her earlier today, but the more he grows comfortable with you, and the more you show your true personality to him, the more he sees Spider-Girl in you.

When you return to his bedroom with him trailing after you, you notice a little box sliding out of his bag. Eren follows your gaze, mumbling, “Oh, shit, I forgot,” under his breath before he snatches it away. “I bought something for you earlier today,” he says, taking a seat on the edge of his bed with you settling down right next to him. “I wanted to give this to you back when we were at the studio but…” He smiles a little bit sheepishly as he hands it over to you. “I got, uhh… distracted.”

The way he said his words, it was clear that you were his distraction. “Thank you,” you reply, your fingers playing with the little red bow that ties the package together. “You’re always so thoughtful. I wanted to give you something too, actually, but I couldn’t get it done on time. It’s going to take a little while before I can finish it.”

“Oh?” His whole face brightens at once, seemingly giddy at the thought, as it would be the first time he’ll receive a handmade gift from the opposite sex. “You’re making something for me?”

“Yeah.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a surprise.” Your coquettish smile quickly becomes one of his favorite things in the world. “For now,” you land a hand on his shoulder, leaning up to brush your lips lightly against his cheek. The kiss is light and chaste, and yet, Eren turns rigid, his heartbeat roaring in his ears. You break away with a bashful smile painting your lips. “I hope that’s okay?”

“Umm…” He mumbles out, unfocused. “Yeah…”

The moment is there. The same atmosphere, the same tension that you felt when you were about to part ways at the end of your date has returned, ten times thicker than before. You maintain your gaze on his face, while Eren learns the texture of your lips with his eyes. They seem so soft, so inviting and he wants it. He wants to know how it would feel like to have your mouths pressed against one another but at the same time…

He’s conflicted again, you think to yourself, and if you’re not careful, your devilish smirk will rise to the surface again. It’s such a fun game watching him like this. You can almost literally see the way he’s battling against himself. On one side, he wants to kiss the bejeezus out of you, while on the other hand, he wants to push you away and say, “Girl, you’re making my jeans tighter than ever but this heart only belongs to one woman, and as long as you’re not dressed in white spandex, you’re not her.”

The evil that you are, you plan to make it even more interesting. “Kiss me.”

Somewhere at the back of his head, a nuclear bomb explodes, killing half of his brain cells at once. “W-what?” Eren croaks out, sounding like he hasn’t spoken in years. 

You lean closer, your breath fanning his lips. God, your perfume, the scent of your breath—you smell so fucking wonderful. Sliding a hand up his chest, fingers gliding smoothly against the fabric of his shirt, you whisper again, “I want you to kiss me, Ren.”

“I—mmph—” His eyes close in reflex the moment your lips touch his, his eyebrows sewn together in the middle. You frame his cheek, bringing him closer to you than ever. For a moment, he succumbs, his fingers fisting the sheets underneath him. You press your body against him, and he wonders if you can feel his heartbeat reverberating on your skin. He lets out this cute little whine when he feels you parting his lips with yours, but the second he feels the tip of your tongue touching his, his body flinches and Eren breaks away.

“S-sorry.” He stands up abruptly from the bed, one hand shooting up to cover the bottom half of his face. His blush creeps up from his neck to the tip of his ears. He seems breathless, panicking out of his mind.

Your lips are just itching to exhibit a wicked grin but you pretend to be confused. “Is there something wrong?”

“I—I can’t—” He’s looking anywhere but your face, jittery hands moving animatedly as he speaks. “You and me—we can’t—I can’t do this with you—Not right now—Not when I’m—I can’t, I’m sorry, I can’t.”

Poor Rennie looks like he’s having a heart attack. “You can’t?” You’ve never taken any acting classes before, but you’re sure as hell this performance you’re doing right now deserves an Oscar's Best Actress nomination. Guess binging Euphoria all weekend has some perks after all. “But…” You perceive him with glassy doe eyes. “I thought you liked me…”

“I did!” He shouts out the words like it physically pains him to say them out loud. He’s losing his mind and it’s hilarious. “I did…” Eren goes down to his knees before you, his hands reaching out to take yours before he settles them on your lap. They’re sweating, and so cold. “I really liked you but…”

You start to feel bad but the sadistic villain inside you wants to see more so you just fake a sob. “But now… You don’t like me anymore…”

“Oh, God.” You, brushing your nonexistent tears with your fingers right now, are his kryptonite. “Please don't cry. No—no, it’s not like that! I like you!” he shouts, his eyes shaking as he peers into yours. “Jesus, I think I even loved you at some point and maybe I still do, I don’t know—I don’t understand my feelings right now, I just—”

“It's okay,” you say, trying to calm him down. You're a bit worried now because if this guy ends up passing out, that’s going to be your fault. “It’s all right, Ren… I know what you’re saying…”

He pauses to take a deep breath. When he speaks again, he no longer sounds as squeaky as before. “Listen to me,” he squeezes your hand, and even if his fingers are still trembling, they’re doing their best to comfort you. “I really, really do like you. Honestly? I was so obsessed with you before. I stalked you like a pervert. I took pictures of you when you weren’t looking. I've had your photo as my wallpaper for God knows how long. My video journals—”

Are all about me, you echo the words in your head as he speaks the same thing. Oh my God, he’s freaking out so bad, he’s telling every bit of his secret now. So cute. 

“I did all those things because I liked you and you should hate me for it—”

“I’ll never hate you, Ren. I want to be with you.”

You’re killing him. You can tell you’re killing him inside. “And you don’t know how much those words mean to me but the truth is, I’m—” He hesitates, still contemplating whether he should say the words out loud. He doesn’t want to hurt your feelings, but if he continues doing this, letting his desire overtake him once again, he’s only going to hurt you even more. He needs to make a decision. “I’m in love with someone else.”

You fake a gasp, even going as far as covering your mouth with both hands. “Y-you are?”

“Yes…” He answers in dismay. “I know maybe I should give myself some time to figure this out but I don’t want to be selfish. I don’t want to make you wait for me. I don’t want to make you feel confused. And I know it would be easier to love you instead of her—I don’t even know how she feels about me but… I can’t. I can’t deny that I’m in love with her. And it’s not fair if I keep doing this with you when I keep thinking about someone else. I don’t want to be that kind of person.”

He’s kind. Eren is always kind. He could’ve just dated you both if he wanted to, but he didn’t. “I see,” you solemnly respond. “Can you… tell me who you’re in love with?”

He nibbles on his lip, looking down when he says, “S-Spider-Girl.”

FUCK, YES! In your mind, you’re punching the air in triumph with Cardi B and DJ Khaleed throwing a party in the background, celebrating your victory. But if you take a look at the situation, how fucking ridiculous is this? Imagine if Spider-Girl wasn’t your alter ego. It would be like you confessing to that delusional nerd Armin, only to be rejected by him saying he’s in love with a random cosplayer whose real name he didn’t even know. Well, with Armin, it’s still a plausible thought. Ridiculous, sure, but plausible.

“I see…” You land a hand above your heart, pretending like it’s breaking when you’re really trying your best not to cackle like a madman. “Oh, gosh… I don’t know what to say… This is such shocking news to me.”

Colors drain from his face. “I’m sorry.” He looks like he’s the one who’s having his heart shredded apart. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you like this. I’m sorry for leading you on. I should’ve told you last night. You are such an attractive woman. You’re beautiful. You’re brilliant and you’re so kind and—”

Oh my God, he’s consoling me now. It’s getting harder and harder not to guffaw at his face. "Ren—"

“—I’m sure there are a lot of guys out there who would love to date you,” Eren says, his eyes drooping in sadness. “And I know this is a selfish thought but I hope we can… still be friends?”

God, you better be grateful I’m Spider-Girl ‘cause this feels like a terrible break-up movie and I’m livid. “We can,” you nod. “But only if you do something for me.”

Eren blinks, his eyes turning hopeful. “Yes, anything. Anything you want, I’ll do it.”

“Okay, then, sit down on the floor.” With a confused frown, he follows without a word. “Lean back.” You give two light taps on the railing of his bed and he rests his backside against it. “Good, now close your eyes. Don’t open them until I say so.”

“Umm… Okay…” 

“Promise me that.”

“I promise.” His furrow turns deeper when he senses you crawling up his bed. You position yourself behind him, lying down on your stomach with your elbows propping the upper part of your body. 

You lean close, whispering breathily in his ear, imitating the words he once said to you on the night he kissed you. “Can I try something I’ve never done before?”

He shivers. The way your voice echoes through his mind sends his mind reeling. “Y-yes…” It sounds more like a question and you almost laugh. He’s beyond nervous. 

Your hand slithers down his cheek before you hook your fingers on the underside of his jaw. You lift his face. His gaze would’ve lingered on the ceiling if he had his eyes opened but Eren keeps them pressed shut. Your touch feels burning on his skin. “W-what are you doing?” he stutters out as you take off his glasses.

“Telling you my biggest secret,” you murmur, leaning closer until you have your face hovering above his. He can almost feel your every word on his skin. “Do you trust me?”

“I—” He noticeably gulps. “I do.”

With an elfin smile, you lower your head. Eren softly gasps when your lips are connected. You’re kissing him upside-down, similar to the kiss he shared with Spider-Girl. You try to replicate the way he kissed you that night, starting out slow, giving him a light, innocent kiss. There’s no pressure on your lips, nothing to distract him away from how soft they feel against his. This is that kiss—your first kiss together.

And Eren remembers it. His body, his lips, his heart remember it.

A few seconds are spent with Eren holding his breath and when you pull away, whispering, “Look at me,” he slowly opens his eyes but they stay half-lidded, completely dazed. 

You stroke his cheek, your smile is an everlasting beauty. 

“I’m in love with you too, Rennie.” 

Your confession certainly comes as a shock, but it’s not as much as the way you called his name. Eren has his heartbeat ringing clamorously in his ears, his eyes widening at the pet name you gave him back when you were nine-year-old. His flashback hits him at once and it strikes him like thunder. He has never told anyone else about the little girl he met in the hospital except for Spider-Girl, and even then, he didn’t tell you that she used to call him Rennie. So how the fuck can you tell? 

Eren turns around, almost knocking his head against the railing as he does. “Wait—” He rises to his feet, both hands stretched out forward. He is mortified beyond belief. So embarrassed, that he wishes he can light himself on fire so he doesn’t have to deal with whatever the fuck that’s going on. This can’t be—she can’t be—

He catches you grinning at him no matter how much you try to hold yourself back. “Calm down, Rennie.”

“No, don’t call—” Oh my God, I can’t breathe—This isn’t happening right now—She—

You’re laughing—great, now you’re laughing—interrupting his thoughts and sending him even further down this endless hole of shame. “So, I’m your first love, huh? Been crushing on me ever since we were nine? Damn, didn’t know you were such a simp for me, Tarantula Boy.”

“No. No, no, no, no, no.” He only has one color on his face: red. “You can’t do this to me—”

“And you jerked off to my pictures?” You playfully scold him, stepping down from the bed and making your way to his spot. “Can’t say I’m pleased with that. Also, I can’t believe you kissed me right after our date ended. Not to mention, I had to save your ass again—”

Fuck, I can’t do this. Eren spins on his heels, literally trying to run away in shame as his brain turns into mush. He has one hand around the doorknob, ready to run and jump off the nearest bridge when you stretch out your arm and shoot out your web. Snaring him by his wrist, you pull him back toward you with a hard yank. With a startled yelp, Eren tumbles back, his body nearly crashes against yours but you catch him just in time. You flick the web off your wrist and tangle your arms around his neck. 

Standing on your toes, you press your body against his, meshing your lips together and laughing against his mouth in response to the muffled sounds of his protest. “Kill me,” he sighs against your mouth, followed by a strangled moan when you part your lips just to close them around his bottom one. “Just kill me now, please.”

“You sure about that?” You tease him, one hand sliding down his chest. “Cause I’d rather do something else if you ask me.” You nip on his lip, not being as gentle as before. 

Groaning in defeat, Eren frames your face with both hands. He decides to take control of the kiss as a way to make you feel just as flustered as he is now. He’s still awkward, his teeth almost knocking against yours but when his tongue slides inside, he manages to steal a gasp out of your mouth. 

You lean your entire weight on him, clawing against his chest as he winds his arm around your waist. “Easy, Tarantula Boy,” you giggle, still sounding mischievous albeit a little breathless.

“You’re evil.” Eren moves his lips to your jaw before he settles his head in the crook of your neck. “I can’t believe you played me like this. Is this the reason why you were being so aggressive today?”

“I’m sorry.” Your small laughter morphs into soft moans as his tongue slithers against yours again. Your fingers slip between his strands, your eyes closed in pleasure as you face the ceiling, giving him more access to nibble on the supple skin of your neck. “I didn’t mean to go this far, actually. I just wanted to tease you a little bit but—” Your sentence ends abruptly in a gasp when he seizes you by your waist and throws you down to the bed. His strength surprises you but the way he handles you so easily, losing almost all the tenderness in his touch, lights your stomach on fire. He crawls on top of you, pinning your hand down against the sheets before he smashes your lips together again. The sudden change in his attitude baffles you but you're quick to display your smirk again. “My, my, look who’s being so aggressive now.”

“Shut up,” he replies, face aflame, robbing you of the ability to speak. Eren kisses you deeply, almost frantically, demanding, plundering your mouth with his own, and you understand why. He doesn’t use his passion to cover his embarrassment, not like what you thought he was doing. He’s kissing you like this, like he owns you and you own him, because he’s been in love with three different people all this time, and all of them are now in his arms, in the shape of you. And, God, you are beautiful.

“Calm down,” you remind him again, sliding your fingers up and down his spine, effectively slowing down his pace. His bun is a mess, his strands falling all over the place, all designed by your eager hands. You play with the baby hair on his nape when he pulls away, your smile is too delicate to be real. “I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to rush.”

His heart hammers inside his chest and it’s beating so fast, it’s frightening, but Eren loves it. He’s always felt this way when he was with you—with any version of you—but now that he knows you’re all of them, his heart beats three times faster. “I don’t think I can do it.” He keeps his face close enough for the tip of your nose to brush against his when he whispers, “I’ve been in love with the same girl for twelve years and now you’re right here and I’m… I’m going insane.”

He’s adorable. So adorable. “Well then, maybe I feel the same way…” You untangle his hair tie with one hand, pushing back his hair behind his ear before you caress his cheek. “‘Cause I’m sure I’ve been in love with the same boy for twelve years too.”

He melts in your arms, weak with the surge of joy that suffuses his body. “It’s hard to believe that you’re Spider-Girl,” he breathes out, resting his temple above yours, closing his lids. He seems so blissful, so relieved at the revelation. “But at the same time, it feels so right. This is the perfect moment of my life, I feel like I’m gonna die.”

“Don’t die just yet,” you titter. “You haven’t loved me enough yet.”

He breaks away with a peal of laughter flowing past his lips. “I’m already going insane because of you and you still want me to love you harder than this?”

“If you can.”

“So demanding.” He jokingly rolls his eyes. “That little boy in the hospital.” He twines his fingers around your wrist, bringing your hand closer to his face. He speaks his next words with his lips brushing against the lines of your palm. “Have you always known it was me?”

“No…” You’re entranced, eyes turning a bit hazy at the way his long eyelashes flutter against his cheeks. He peppers soft kisses on your skin down to the veins that paint your inner wrist. “I only realized it was you when you told me that story.”

“That night on the rooftop?” His pout returns. “You should’ve told me then.”

“Well, yes, but then I wouldn’t get to have this much fun.” You toss him your signature Cheshire Cat grin. Eren throws you a playful snort before he dives back to taste your lips again. “Plus, I was too… embarrassed to say a word back then. I’ve always thought you looked familiar but I had no idea that you were that boy.” You hug him close, breathing right against his ear. “You grew up so handsomely, Rennie….”

He’s buzzing with joy, every part of him is. “You’re really trying to kill me right now, aren’t you?” Eren tickles your side, making you laugh hard enough for his neighbors to hear. He takes in everything, the crinkles in your eyes, the way you have your mouth opened wide, and that adorable laughter you emit–he loves it all. “This is how I always imagined you to look underneath that mask when you laughed,” he confesses, settling himself between your legs. 

You play with his necklace, fingers hooking around his silver chain. “Are you disappointed that I’m not as feminine as I usually behave on campus?”

“Are you kidding? I love you more like this.” Your heart thrashes wildly, no matter how hard you tell it to stay put. Eren props his elbows on the bed, trapping you between his arms. He gently swats the bangs out of your eyes, taking his time to examine your every feature, using the chance to commit every part of you into memory. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on but it’s Spider-Girl whom I’m in love with, and I never cared about her looks. I care about the way she comforts me with her words.” He presses a gentle kiss on the center of your temple, stunning you with intimacy. “I care about the way she cares about me.” He drags his lips to your cheek, lips as light as feathers. “How she gets upset on my behalf when I blame myself for something that isn’t my fault.”

“Yeah, you do that a lot, it’s annoying,” you giggle and you can feel his smile growing on your skin. “What else do you care about?”

“I care about the way she uses sarcasm as her weapon.” His lips are now closing around your earlobe, letting you know the shape of his smirk as he speaks. "And how she gets snarkier when she's embarrassed, not knowing what to do when she receives a compliment."

You flinch, a little bit sensitive in that area. Especially when he sounds breathier like this, huskier as if he just woke up from his dream. “I thought I was irritating.” 

“Sometimes, sure.” But in his next lines, he abandons all the mirth in his voice, and he speaks sincerely from the bottom of his heart. “I'm kidding. I just find you endearing. I care about how you always pretend to be strong when you’re actually scared.” He grants a soft kiss on your nose, breaking away to look you in the eyes as he strokes your hair. “I care about how you seem like you don’t need anybody else in your life, when the truth is, you’re always searching for someone to be there for you. Just like everyone else, you’re scared of being alone.”

Your gaze softens, your stomach somersaulting at his words. “I can never lie to you, can I?” Your voice is not louder than a whisper, your lips only a breath away. “Ever since we were kids, you always knew what to say to me. You understood me more than anyone else.” It’s such a wonderful feeling to be with someone you can truly open yourself to. No secrets. No lies. No sweet nothings. No boundaries. “I wish we had never grown apart during those years. I would’ve loved to spend every moment with you. Growing up together. Being your best friend and making out with you on our school’s rooftop during lunch breaks.” You brush two of your fingertips against his lips, tracing the pretty shape of his mouth as he chuckles. “Maybe I could even give you that radioactive spider that bit me so you could be my sidekick and we could fight crimes together.”

“Your sidekick?”

“It’s kind of a package deal. Plus, I have better social skills. You're not ready to be a superhero, trust me."

"And why not?"

"'Cause even if you were able to kick some ass, you’d never win against your true enemy.”

“Which is?”

“The press. And Tony Stark ‘cause he’d just bully you like crazy without me.”

He just can’t seem to stop grinning when he’s with you. “Well, it’s not too late to start. I'm sure there's some radioactive spiders somewhere.” He gently bites on the tip, rolling your finger between his teeth. “Can you find me a tarantula, though? Spiders are a little bit overrated.”

“Of course, baby. Whatever you want.” 

Eren smiles, bestowing another kiss and letting himself drown in your taste for a minute before he pulls away with a pout. “You said you could never lie to me,” he mutters. “But you’ve been lying to me about your identity for three months.”

“Oh my God,” you groan, throwing your head back. “Stop being so butthurt about it. I said I’m sorry.”

He chortles, gathering your face in his hand again. “You’re so annoying.” He pecks your lips. “But I love you.”

“You’re such an idiot.” You pull him for another kiss, separating your lips to welcome him inside. “But I love you.”

Your kisses seem never-ending, and none of you complains about it. It’s so addicting, so exciting to have his taste lingering in your mouth, to feel the flick of his tongue against yours. Eren may be an inexperienced kisser, but he learns fast. By the time he regains confidence, it’s easy for him to steal your breath away, leaving you all dazed and needy for more.

You have your body squeezed against his, your heels hooked behind his waist, but you’re left feeling unsatisfied as you still have layers of clothing separating your skin from his. “Can I do something I’ve never done before?” you ask him with a cheeky grin.

Eren, who was suckling on your neck a second ago, elevates his face just to give you a flat stare. “Can you stop embarrassing me for one second?” 

“What, I can’t speak English now?”

“You’re using my words!”

“Since when are those words your words—It’s basic English!” Laughing, you roll him to his back, position yourself above his lap and watch him gulp in anticipation. With a naughty smirk, you slip your hand underneath his shirt, your fingers tracing the ridges of his abdomens before you bunch up the fabric in one hand and push it up to his chest. “Wow…” The word accidentally slips out of your mouth as you stare shamelessly at him. “Jesus, when the heck did you work out?”

“S-shut up.” He pushes down his shirt, hiding as much skin as he can from your hungry eyes while blushing like the virgin that he is.

Well, actually, you’re a virgin too, but at least, you act like a pro. “Why are you covering—let me see your abs!”

“No!”

“Wha—” You’re trying to pry his hands away. He’s pretty strong, and you don’t want to use your superhuman strength to pin him down just so you can marvel at his stomach (you won’t stoop that low).

“Stop trying to undress me, woman!”

You know what, if he keeps fighting you back like this, you might as well tie him up with your web. “Rennie, come on, just give me a peek!” Did you sound desperate? Yes. Are you desperate? Yes, times a thousand. “I’m your girlfriend, you know!”

“You literally just became my girlfriend like seven minutes ago!” He’s struggling just as much, keeping the hem of his shirt as low as possible. “Also, being my girlfriend doesn’t mean you can do whatever you like with my body! Ask me for my consent first!”

You see, he’s right. He’s totally right, but— “Babe, I can literally feel your dick poking against my thigh right now.”

“Y-yeah, but still…” Aaaaand he's blushing. 

“Huh. Cute. Now let’s get back to the game, darling.” You grab the hem of his shirt and— 

“No, wait! I’m not mentally ready and we're—” Eren gasps loudly—almost too dramatically—in both horror and surprise when you shoot two lumps of your web, snaring his wrists and keeping them glued on the bed right on each side of his head. He turns to face you again, his jaw dropping low when he speaks, “Did you just use your web on me?”

You did. Holy shit, you did. What happened to not stooping that low? “I-I’m sorry.”

“Just to see my abs.”

You palm your face, your cheeks blazing hot. “I’ll let you out—”

“You know Peter Parker wouldn’t do this to MJ, right?”

You sigh. You kinda wish you were bitten by a radioactive bunny so you could dig really fast and bury your whole existence inside a hole. “Well, I mean, I wouldn’t know–”

“Steve Rogers would judge you so hard right now.”

“Steve’s actually a kinky bitch. I’m sure he likes it. Look, just calm down,” you tell him, settling yourself on his lap while trying your best to ignore the way his cock is twitching in his pants at the sensation of your weight pressing against him. “I won’t do anything to you without your permission, all right? I'll act like a gentleman. A gentlewoman, if you must.”

“Oh, am I your lady now?”

“You’re acting like one right now, aren’t you?”

“Oh, shut up.” He yanks on his wrist, trying to break free but your web is unyielding. “Can you get this off of me? This looks ridiculous!”

No, it doesn’t. This looks kinky as fuck. Never have you imagined that you’d be using your superhero ability to tie up a handsome man on his own bed, but you learn something new every day, I guess. Trying not to stare so much at the way his biceps are flexing with every attempt he makes, you ask the most important question. “Are you nervous because you’re a virgin?”

“I’m not—” His face catches on fire. “I’m not nervous, I’m just—okay, yeah, I’m nervous.”

“Because you’re a virgin?”

“No,” is his first answer but then bashfully he corrects with, “Well, yeah, kinda. But I’m more nervous about the fact that you’re… not.”

“Not what?”

“A virgin.” He tucks his chin, his voice muted. “I just… I don’t want to disappoint you.” Because Eren knows that you’ve dated several popular guys on campus in the past. Porco Galliard, Colt Grice, even that notorious bad boy, Floch Forster at some point. How can he compete with that? He wants to have sex with you—God, he wants nothing more than to get his dick wet with the girl he’s been in love with for twelve years—but what if you’re not satisfied with him? What if he sucks (no pun intended)? What if he’s supposed to suck but he can’t suck properly? Like sucking on your tits, for example. What if he can’t suck them right? What if—

“I’m a virgin, though,” you say.

“Okay, you can do whatever you want with me. I’m ready.” 

That’s it. That’s all it takes for you to get his consent. The next thing you know, Eren has his shirt bunched up around his chest, your fingers splayed and pressed flat against his stomach. “Damn,” you murmur under your breath, eyes transfixed on the way his muscles tighten underneath your palm. “If I had known you looked like this underneath that hoodie, I wouldn’t have wasted all these months keeping my identity a secret.”

His blush blossoms fast on his face, flinching when he feels your fingertips tracing the dip of his V-line. “I—I thought you were trying to keep your identity a secret to protect me.”

“Well, yeah, that too, but—” You brush your pads against his navel, feeling the little happy trail that disappears behind his jeans. He lets out this little sound, like a mix between a yelp, a whimper, and a moan, and it’s so fucking cute. “I think I’d be okay with you getting kidnapped once a week if I get to do this every day.”

“It feels so weird to have a hot girl talking about me like this, but okay.” Eren, despite how bizarre this conversation is getting, still has his focus on how to break himself free from your webbing. “Can you do something about this, please? It feels sticky on my skin.”

“No.”

“What do you mean 'no?' I can’t touch you if I’m like this!”

“Yes, that is the point, now shut up.” To Eren’s surprise, you casually yank your dress over your head, tossing it haphazardly on the floor and leaving you only in nice lacy lingerie that matches the shade of your lipstick.

“Fuck me,” he mutters under his breath, his gaze quickly shifting down to your chest. He gulps at the sight. “B-badonkers…”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, your tits—your breasts!” He stammers. “They’re—they’re perfect. Like, the shape of them and how they look so… so soft and…” He clears his throat, realizing just how much lame he’s being. “You know, like a really nice pair of natural, fully functional breasts.”

You scrunch up your nose at his words. “Are you going to be like this the whole time?” You reach one hand behind your back, unclasping your bra.

“I… hope not…” He’s staring with unblinking eyes, practically salivating at the sight of your breasts bouncing once as you position yourself better on his lap. Fuck, they really are perfect. “A-are you sure you’ve never done this before?”

“You mean sex? No.” You lean forward, crawling up his body until you have your face hovering above his again. “Why?”

“You just seem awfully calm and—” You leave him speechless for a good few seconds when you press your breasts against his chest. Eren whines, closing his eyes as he throws his head against the bed. “Fuck.” 

Your lips twitch up into a smirk. “Soft, aren’t they?”

“Like fucking marshmallows.” He dreamily sighs—almost sobbing, really. “Can I have your tits in my mouth, please?”

Perhaps sometime in the future, when you look back into this scene again, you’ll have the biggest cringe moment in your life because what the fuck is he asking but right now, everything just seems so hot, you don’t even care. “Yeah, but maybe later once I’m done with you.” You reward him with a kiss to distract him, stifling his protest. “To tell you the truth, I’ve gone to second base before but I’ve… never gone past that.”

“Oh… Why not?”

“Just didn’t feel like it was the right thing to do at that time,” you answer with a shrug. “I almost did it with Porco but… It felt like I was missing something so I stopped him at the last minute.”

There’s jealousy burning inside him, but the revelation also provides him some relief. “I see…”

You can sense it, the tiny hint of fury raging in his chest and you nuzzle the tip of your nose against his to soothe him down. “Are you jealous?”

“No.” 

He is. He so is. “Would you like it if I said I was waiting for the right person?” You slide down one finger from the middle of his chest to the dip of his belly button. “Waiting for you?”

“N-no.”

He would. He so would. “You’re cute.”

“Stop calling me cute—ah!” A moan is snatched away from the back of his throat the second you grind your hips against him. Even the slightest friction drives him insane and now he has you rubbing your clothed heat against his bulge. “Fuck, baby, that feels good.”

You recall the way he called you by that pet name on that night you shared your first kiss with him, and as pleasant as it was in your ears, this one feels a million times better. It’s laced with urgency, desperation, and need. “Can I take off your jeans?” You ask him, even when your fingers are already playing with his zipper. 

“Are you going to ask me questions the whole time?”

“You said you wanted me to ask for your consent.”

“Yeah, fuck that. Do whatever you want with me. I’m yours.”

You almost laugh. “Well then, don’t mind if I do,” you say, a moment before your lips meet in a frenzied kiss. Eren arches his back, wanting to close every inch of gap between your skins until he feels like you’re completely plastered against him. He can feel your hand sliding down his stomach, toying with the button of his jeans before you push them down to his mid-thighs, along with his briefs. With a sheepish smile, you maintain eye contact as you curl your fingers gently around his shaft.

“How does it feel, Rennie?” You keep your face close, loving his expression. “Feels good?”

His chest rises and falls with rapid breaths, his face scarlet and erotic. “Feels ama—”

Right at that exact moment, Zeke Jaeger comes bursting inside his room with a phone in his hand, recording everything as he shouts, “AHA! CAUGHT YOU GUYS IN 4K! I knew you wouldn’t be studying–” He freezes at the sight of you stroking his sibling’s cock, your naked breasts practically dangling over his face, and for a second, none of you make a sound.

And then, it’s chaos.

The three of you are screaming at the same time, with you quickly grabbing the nearest pillow to cover your front, completely forgetting to throw a blanket on your poor boyfriend who’s practically buck-naked on his bed. Eren, with his wrists still glued to the sheets, can only spout out incoherent words, while his brother, who’s so horrified at the sight of Eren’s cock, spasming and leaking in desperate need of attention, can only stand still, his brain unable to function. It’s only until Eren screams, “ZEKE, GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY ROOM!” that he returns to his senses, whining out, “DINA, MY BROTHER IS FUCKING BEFORE ME!” as he runs back into the kitchen.

You hastily jump down from the bed, shutting the door and locking it up. “Use your web,” Eren says, “He has a spare key. He can still barge in anytime.”

“I think he saw us,” you utter in horror.

“Yeah.” 

“If I drop him off the building and make it look like an accident, do you think you’ll be okay with that?”

“Will I be okay with you killing my brother after seeing your boobs and catching me getting tied up to my bed and being dominated like a fucking masochist by my girlfriend?” Eren watches his cock wilting away. “Yes.”

“Well, not killing. I’m just gonna punch him hard enough to give him like a massive concussion or something.”

“No, no, no. Let’s just stick to murder. I like murder.”

***

AN: Hi, everyone! It took me a while but I finally got to finish this series. I wanted to write a small epilogue that will feature a funny scene where they get to lose their virginity to each other but since I'm pregnant with my second child now, I don't think I'll have the energy/time to do it, I'm sorry 😭😭😭 I hope you enjoyed the story despite how cringe this is (I'm never gonna do comedy again oh god what was I thinking). Anyway, thank you so much for reading! I'll see you next time!

Tagging:

@l6ffys @vivi-et @halparkebitch @fwess @littlemochi @thebeardedmoon @didiyogo @coyloves @erenbean @tehehebri @justasketch @infnteen @naiomiwinchester @spiderlingh @doyochii @ahornyenby @aengelren @sakurashell @princess-okkotsu @resonancesoul @blrqt @cacapeepee @persyhange @jaegersdiary @erentoes @trashygremlin04 @meed18 @j0livi0ni @snowflake-201 @eva-gates @claudevonstrukesblog @sofijaeger @rinsie @blanccofiie @ereninbunu @natanialora @khinjito @jaegeriess @watermelon-online @tropicsoda @damselofblueroses @alexackrman @bblgumz @jurrasicpork @erenjaegercult @holycandypizza

#eren smut #eren fluff #eren jaeger smut #eren x reader #eren jaeger fluff #eren yeager smut #eren yeager fluff #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #aot smut #snk smut #aot fluff #snk fluff #eren x reader smut #aot x reader #snk x reader #eren x you #our little secret canon

[leqonsluv3r]

pretty girls don’t cry

— you love leon but as you reflect on your past with him, maybe it’s best it’s over, a blurb

masterlist taglist

an: i’m sorry this is so sad, and not a oneshot. i have two that are almost finished. inspiration struck at 3am, yall know how it is.

you don’t even know where it all went wrong. where the love turned to hate and everything twisted around and mulled like an ugly beast waiting to strike.

it made you sad, not able to pinpoint the exact cause of everything that shattered around you. you’d loved leon for as long as you’d remembered and that was all you’d known.

and in the deep dark part of you that wanted to hate him, thought that maybe he’d planned this out all along. made you some weak little girl without any fight left on purpose. you knew that wasn’t true, you were both broken but…

you didn’t know if it was something you said, something you did and the feeling in the pit of your gut never really went away. memories of that night echoed in your skull like an angry ocean, crashing against the shore.

“you can’t keep doing this to yourself. you’ll die.” you said, thinking you sounded brave in the words you said. that maybe this would give him some strength to change. foolish, you think now.

to think you could change a man, a man you loved no less. a man you put your heart and soul into for years, a man that was such a part of you, that it physically pained you when he walked away.

“you’re not my fucking mother! fucks sake! stop being so damn controlling.” you heard him reply back, yelling and shaking every bone in your body. a side you’d never seen before. a side you despised. you hated it, you wanted to hit him and smack some sense into his gorgeous face.

and the venom that spewed from your mouth wasn’t any better, “don’t be such a child! i’m just trying to help you! you should be thankful i’m still around!”

and you saw the frozen air still around the both of you, cracking and breaking like shards to glass. you should have just kept your mouth shut, not said anything. but were you wrong? no, you weren’t.

but that still didn’t stop the ache in your bones and your chest, your eyes were red and heavy with tears. so damn tired of crying, but can’t bring yourself to stop. you hated him for making you like this, so weepy and sad.

“pretty girls don’t cry.” he had mumbled to you into your skull one day, caressing your hair. this was before everything had gone south, when he actually cared enough to console you.

fuck you, i am crying and it’s all your fault. you think now, cursing him as if he were actually around and not just a ghost haunting your bones and memory.

but you couldn’t help it, he’d left, taking a part of your heart with him. he ended things, you needed him too and you hated admitting that maybe he wasn’t right for you. he changed.

you fought hard, you tried to change him, to hold onto that man you fell in love with so many years before. it was hard to just learn to live without him, to breathe air. but you managed in a way, breathing on your own and just surviving without a life raft.

you needed him shamelessly, even when he walked away and cut things off, when he was the one to leave you in pieces. to make you hate him with every fiber in your body, but you couldn’t hate him fully. he taught you how to love so many years ago.

and you couldn’t unlearn something so visceral and such a deep part of your soul. you just couldn’t bring yourself to, not knowing that he was out there. that he was breathing and living and trying as hard as you to forget.

it was painful, it was a sharp reminder that love wasn’t easy and that pain comes with it. even when you would eventually see him again, maybe find your way back to him. that the pain would still reside, along with the love.

glass shattering, broken promises, lies. they all piled up in your way like a blockade as you unraveled leon from your body. in every aspect of your life, he was tangled within you, a part of every part of who you were.

it was scary, to see someone change right in front of you and not be able to do a singular thing about it. all you could do was watch, try and help. and even in your case, that wasn’t enough.

he still left and you still hoped deep down he would come back to you. that he would apologize and that maybe, maybe he would care about you again.

but even if that did happen, you didn’t know if you could let yourself.

and that was even scarier.

an: if you guys want to request blurbs now, you absolutely can now. as well as headcanons, pls repost <33 i hope u guys enjoyed. i love u all so much. kisses xx

#leon kennedy #leon x reader #resident evil vendetta #vendetta leon #leon kennedy au #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy fic #leon kennedy drabble #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fanfic #angst #leon kennedy angst #resident evil x reader #re2 leon #re4 remake

[turbulentscrawl]

Reminders of the Horror (Norton & Edgar)

warnings: character death (you), descriptions of heavy gore (I mean it. the Norton one is p bad), angst, lots of blood and pain

Your ears are ringing.

There’s not really any reason for them to be. All things considered, the wall coming down wasn’t that loud, and neither was your screaming. But your ears are ringing like you think Norton’s must have during that horrible event so much like this moment. Aside from the volume, everything is exactly as he’d described it on those late, sleepless nights. The dust, the dark, the agonized cries. (Yours.) Somewhere in your scrambled mind, you’re sure Norton sees the ghosts of his spiteful coworkers littered about him, but it’s just you there, trapped under the rubble of the asylum’s collapsed walls. You’ve seen single portions of wall collapse at the church, but never anything like this. Fools Gold had somehow managed to bring down an entire section of the sprawling building. Right on top of you.

You’re wailing and screaming for Norton, and he’s just sitting there, mere feet from you, paralyzed. His face looks like a dead man’s.

“Norton!” you scream, almost incomprehensible. His name leaves your lips along with all the air in your lungs, the rubble crushing everything out of you. You’d never dared to imagine what this kind of death felt like. Never wanted to experience the horror of it. And the pain is beyond words. Every cell in your body screams wrong, wrong, pain!

The rubble continues to settle, shift, and somehow it all gets worse. Your bones give like fragile chalk. Your abdomen shifts, squeezed from the bottom-up like a tube of toothpaste. When you open your mouth again, blood and bile gush forward, followed by a bulge of something horrifically organ-like that chokes your airways. You claw a desperate hand towards Norton, and he reacts only by numbly pushing himself away.

His back hits the far wall, still staring with unfocused eyes, and through the window above him you spot Fools Gold amble into frame. He’s grinning, albeit tightly.

“Don’t mind him,” the Worse Norton says, stepping through the window. Stepping on Norton like he’s an insect. Stepping right into the pool of your liquified viscera. “Sorry, babe, you know I wasn’t aiming for you. Just trying to give that one a hard time. That sure looks rough, though. Let me help you out real quick.”

You’re crying, but there’s no air to sob. Only bloody, salty tears as your feel yourself about to burst from the mouth. Fools Gold raises his pickaxe—perhaps the one mercy he’s still capable of giving—and brings the heavy point down on your head.

There’s so much blood. Your blood. It’s unnerving despite Edgar’s assurances that it’s good.

From your position, though, it’s hard to see how this is good. Only you two are left in this match against the triplets, and you’re only meters from the exit gate death’s door with a porcupine’s worth of metal thorns lodged in your body. The wrecked wedding venue does not help the mood, and freedom being so close by is but a taunt. You have a win at hand, if only Edgar would flee. Edgar, though, is determined to drag your mangled figure out with him no matter how much it cost.

And it was costing a lot of hurt. The spiks caught in the dirt, in the cobblestone, and pulled on your flesh and muscle, poking and swirling around inside your bruises.

“Go,” you gasp, hiccupping in pain. If he’d go, secure the win, you could die faster too. The pain would stop faster. “Go, Edg—go. I won’t…last. Go.”

“You need to tough it out,” he says through gasps of strained effort. His soft face is twisted with determination. He is not a strong man to begin with, and the added weight of the spikes is only making this harder for him. His skin and hair are dripping with blood, sweat, and mud. “I told you I can do this. Just deal with it a little longer.” In the not-so-far distance, you hear the familiar metal and cloth of the triplets shifting out of their dreaded Breaking Wheel.

“Ed,” you sob, crying dirty tears. Everything is blurry, indistinct. A bubble of blood comes up with your next scream of pain, “Go!”

“I am not afraid of death,” Edgar snaps at you. “Least of all for a situation like this.” Suddenly, he drops you and his hands are all over your body, your wounds, on the ground. Touching until his fingers and palms are running with rivulets of your blood. Then he starts smattering it about his last blank canvas with a desperate speed you’ve never seen utilized for his creations. A mania-like joy overtakes his eyes as he smacks, pokes, and smears your blood into something to distract the Hunter.

“It’s perfect,” you hear him say. When he grabs you up again, you jolt with a scream and realize, foggily, that you blacked out during his creative process. And will black out again, despite the pain’s best efforts to keep you conscious. Edgar starts dragging you again, somehow, miraculously making it to the door. When you look up, you see the triplets there, looking over a propped painting in the aisle. They’re shaking, then howling. With rage.

They grab the canvas and launch it in a tantrum towards your now-immune forms stepping over the invisible line. It clatters in front of your fading eyes, allowing you to see, barely, the butchered forms of the triples painted in your blood. A daring threat from the painter holding you to his chest as you’re swept back to the manor, where you can die and rebirth in peace.

#idv x reader #identity v #idv prospector #idv painter #edgar valden x reader #norton campbell x reader #turbulentscrawl

[blind0demon]

Little Soldier

Summary: Your work alongside the recom team went on normally until your body went into a heat cycle and you couldn't help but keep getting distracted from your missions. Fortunately, your Colonel knows just the right way to help you out. 

Pairing: Na'vi! Miles Quaritch x Na'vi! Gender Neutral! Reader 

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 4,3K

Author's Note: No amount of water will stop my thirst for this man. Part two is up, you can read it here:

"I think they're gone" You whispered, as quietly as possible so as not to attract anyone to your location. Quaritch nodded and the both of you got out of your hiding place from under a big tree. None of you said anything, too busy looking for any signs of danger as you kept your weapons ready. After a moment of making sure that nothing is going to kill you, Miles turned towards you with an angered expression. "Do you have any idea that your distraction almost got both of us killed?" He snapped, making you look away in embarrassment, your fingers nervously tapping on the surface of your gun.

"I'm sorry, Sir. Won't happen again" You answered with humility, trying to ease the tension. It seems to have worked, as your Colonel signed in frustration and ordered you two to keep moving forward and find the rest of your crew. The two of you split from your team when you were attacked by Na'vi warriors as you were venturing through the forest. Fortunately, you were able to resist the attack without any losses. In the middle of the confrontation, you hid behind a tree to reload your weapon and couldn't help but stare at Miles.

Your hungry eyes unwillingly trailed through every part of his body, his focused expression, his muscles tightening and relaxing as he was shooting, everything about him made you lose concentration of the situation and almost get yourself killed. The man noticed you looking at him and pushed you on the ground, before an arrow could hit your skull. You were so busy admiring your Colonel that you didn't even realize that you were partially exposed from your hiding spot and became an easy target.

Luckily, your partner saved your life. You didn't have much time to think as the two of you began running away from the firing shots and before you knew it, accidentally fell into a trench that was impossible to notice. You met the ground many meters down the deeper part of the forest. You were lucky to be in the body of an Avatar as normally you'd break most of your bones from the impact but instead, you only received a few bruises and cuts.

Nothing serious happened to Miles either, at least those were good news. The two of you waited for a few minutes, trying to make sure that you weren't followed and now you're here. Your feet dragged you after your partner as you tried to find a way out of this place. Barely any light shone through the thick tree crowns and gigantic leaves while everything around you seemed quieter than usual. Unfortunately, your communicators broke due to the fall so you had no other way but to move forwards and find your team on your own.

You wanted to hit yourself in the head for being this stupid and ruining everything but you tried to keep your cool in front of Quaritch. You could sense this weird feeling growing in your body again as you looked at the man walking a few steps ahead of you. Your ears tilted back from the discomfort you experienced when you tried to keep yourself together and not think about Miles again and the things he could do to you.

Becoming a recom, you only expected the positive things coming from a new body. You are stronger, faster and overall a better version of your human self. However, after a few weeks of living as an Avatar, you noticed something unusual happening to you. You become horny but not just once in a while, everyday. At first, you thought nothing of it and assumed that it would go away after a few days but it didn't.

Your thoughts constantly drifted away into scenarios of you getting intimate with a certain person, your Colonel. Guilt ate you up every time you thought about him in an inappropriate way and you hated your organism for letting you know how much it wanted to get screwed by Quaritch. It felt as if your mind and body were split in two. Perhaps, you were in a mating cycle but you've never heard of it happening to Na'vi before and you felt too awkward to ask anyone else about it.

You are a soldier, you were trained to control yourself in the worst moments of war and now you can't even do that. You felt like a disappointment compared to your recom team and to Miles. You were never attracted to him as a human but after you two became Avatars, it changed. Out of all the other crew members, your stupid brain had to choose Quaritch to root over. Maybe it's because he was physically your age now and his features weren't too bad to look at either but you mostly assumed that it was because he had authority and was your leader.

Your dirty mind couldn't stop imagining him pinning you to a wall or bed and forcing you to listen to every command he'd give you. This man brought out thoughts from you that you never suspected yourself to have and it disgusted you. Unfortunately, you also loved it. A sight left your lips as you rubbed your hand against your face to put yourself together. Who knows when your problems will start to bother others to the extent that it might cost you your job.

What would the RDA do? Send you back to Earth as an Avatar? Right now, all you have to concentrate on is getting out of this place, seems easy. It would've been simple, if you were to walk with anybody else but Quaritch. You bit your lower lip, just imagining what those slim fingers could do to you while your eyes stared at the man's hands like a creep. So much for your focus on the mission.

Eventually, you encountered a river on your way and decided to rest nearby for a few minutes. You used the time to wash your face with the cold water to clear your head while Miles tended to the few wounds he got from the impact. Compared to you, he earned a few more injuries. It made you feel even worse about yourself for screwing up. "I'm really sorry for what had happened. I've been just… really distracted lately" You said, breaking the silence and catching his attention.

"It's alright, everyone fuckes up sometimes. Do you need to talk about it, (F/N)?" He asked, while turning towards you and looking at you in interest. You immediately tilted away and shifted in your seat. "No, I'd rather keep it to myself" You murmured awkwardly, trying to make it sound as polite as possible, your cheeks slowly turning red. No way in hell that you're telling him any of your recent thoughts. You won't be able to look at your reflection in the mirror for a week.

You felt his gaze lingering on your body as you tried to keep yourself busy, staring at the moving water in front of you. "If it's what I think it is, don't worry. You're not the only one" Quaritch said with a grin on his face and began to laugh when you shot your head in his direction and stared in shock. "What?!" You shouted in embarrassment, making sure that you didn't just hear things. "Well, I've also noticed myself lately getting a little 'distracted' as you'd say, and by observing you for the past few days, seems like I'm not the only one" He concluded, making you hit your hand against your forehead.

You wondered who else also realized your weird behavior recently, you had no idea that the others also experienced the same phenomenon. It felt shameful to think that you were the only one who struggled with keeping it a secret. Maybe it's because you're the youngest in the group, at least when you were a human. "I'm trying to keep myself at bay, I really do" You explained, hoping that he wouldn't think of you differently from now on. You wanted to be known as one of his best soldiers, not somebody who died in action because they couldn't stop feeling horny.

"I know, it's hard for everybody and I have to admit, it felt adorable to know that you couldn't keep your eyes away from me. I didn't know I was this charming" Quaritch jokes, only adding to the sheer embarrassment you felt from the whole situation. "Maybe I did, but it's not like I can control it! My mind just drifts away whenever I… look at you" You mumbled, just realizing what you just confessed to him.

You watched in horror as the man looked at you in surprise, before a smirk painted his face and he got off the ground. "Oh? And what exactly were you thinking about me?" He asked intrigued, putting a hand on his hip. Your heart was beating like crazy and you wondered how he didn't hear it from afar, he was just messing around, right? "Nothing, just forget what I said!" You shouted, your tail nervously sweeping around the grass behind you.

Your nervous babbling only seemed to amuse him more as he took a few steps towards and kneeled down to face you. He could only notice now how turned on he made you. Your chest was moving rapidly, your pupils were dilated and legs tightly held together as if they were going to fall off. "Look, I'm responsible for my team and for their members so when there's a problem, I will do anything to solve it" Miles said in a deep tone, while keeping eye contact.

You were barely able to keep yourself together by how close he was as his words hit your twitching ears. "It looks like I need to put my soldier back to their great shape again, what do you think, (Y/N)?" Quaritch's fingertips trailed along the side of your face as he gently spoke, his eyes digging into your own. Everything felt like a fever dream, you would've never imagined him offering anything like this to you. You felt like you could climax just by listening to him talking like this to you.

"But like, right now in the forest?" You asked, your voice trembling from the excitement and stress. "I told you before, we eat like Na'vi, we ride like Na'vi, we think Na'vi and we might as well fuck like Na'vi" Damn it, he really was serious. His words driften from your ears right into your lower regions, only worsening the arousal you felt for him. At this point, you wouldn't mind him screwing you up even on an aircraft full of people, you just needed to get off this horrible feeling. 

"So, what will it be? Will you let me help you?" Quaritch asked, gently tugging onto the metal pendant wrapped around your neck, the slight force adding to the excitement. You swallowed and nodded nervously, not sure if you could trust your voice at that moment, earning a smile from him. "Good answer. So, what were you thinking about the two of us?" He gave you another question, eager to know every detail of your fantasies that might help him work you up.

"We had sex" You blurted out matter of factly. The man smiled awkwardly and tilted his head to the side. You weren't exactly the best at showing your thoughts, didn't you. "Yeah, I could've predicted that… How about we start with something lighter?" He proposed, before resting his hand on your cheek and pressing his warm lips against yours. He could feel them tremble as you tried to relax under his ministrations, too exhilarated from everything happening around you.

His kisses felt surprisingly gentle and you soon calmed down and started returning the gesture as well. Every movement of his skin against yours sends thrills to every fiber of your body. You flinched away from him when you felt the top of his tongue run along your lower lip. "What a baby. First time?" Quaritch chuckled, making you look away and nod. It felt embarrassing to admit that even when you were in your late twenties before you died, you still hadn't slept with anybody besides for sharing a few kisses.

On Earth, you spent most of your time focusing on your career as a soldier and didn't care too much about relationships. The same thing happened on Pandora. "Don't worry, I will take good care of you" Miles reassured you with a toothy grin and pressed his lips against yours yet again but this time, you didn't resist when he deepened the kiss. You signed, as his tongue began exploring your mouth, the alien sensation radiating onto the rest of your body, setting it on fire.

You tried to mimic his movement, sloppily kissing him as well while your hands gripped the tall grass beneath you, too scared to touch him. Even if he allowed you to do this, he still felt inaccessible to you as Quaritch was still your leader. Like a forbidden fruit. Your lips separated after an intense session, gasping for air as you looked at each other in hunger. Miles looked even hotter than before, as he was now eyeing you like a predor about to eat its prey alive.

You wouldn't mind it though, too fixated on the throbbing feeling in your body, that was begging to be released. The last bits of rational thinking left you, when the man began sucking on your exposed neck, earning a moan from your lips. You couldn't help the lewd noises escaping, he just felt too good. In this state, your skin was even more sensitive than ever and it didn't allow you to keep quiet and collected.

Noticing your reaction, Miles took another step and traced his fingers along the exposed skin on your stomach in a tantalizing manner. His other hand took a firm hold on the back of your neck to keep you in place, as he kept on leaving marks under your chin. Your recom throat communicator stood in his way, so he swiftly took it off and kept going. You also wanted to touch him, but you had no idea what you were supposed to do in that situation, so you awkwardly wrapped your arms around his neck and let your fingernails drag across the bruises on his shoulder.

You smiled as Miles sighed each time your delicate digits traced patterns across his sensitive skin. You let out another moan when Quaritch found your sweet spot, that you had no idea existed, and began enthusiastically sucking on it, entitled to break you. Your fingers curled around his queue, enough to make his groan in excitement as his hand grabbed your hip, giving it a squeeze. His other limb roamed over the abs beneath your shirt, feeling your muscles tense underneath his touch, turning him on even more.

"Oh fuck, I will make you go insane once I stuff you nice and good" He growled in your ear. "You want this right? Having me fuck your tight little ass, don't you, soldier" Miles continued, taking a firm hold of your jaw and making you look at his heated eyes. "I do, Sir. Please" You breathed out, feeling your body tremble for more. "Let's get you ready then" Miles said with a satisfied smile, knowing how desperate he made you, just by making out. He got you wrapped around his finger.

You were told to lay on your elbows and relax as he will do all the work of preparing you for him. Relaxing wasn't exactly possible in your state as you laid on the grass nervously with your heart beating like you've just ran a marathon. You watched him slowly unbutton your pants alongside the belt and get rid of them and you sighed as the air hit your most vulnerable parts for him to see. Quaritch chuckled, seeing you fully exposed, swollen and throbbing just for him.

"Aww, it seems like someone's been struggling for a long time. Don't worry, sweetheart, I will make it up to you" He cooed and licked two of his fingers, before rubbing them around your opening. You didn't need a lot of preparation, as you were already on edge for days on end, so he didn't waste much time and pushed one of his fingers inside of you. You moaned at the pleasurable feeling, never experiencing anything like this before but it felt amazing.

Your muscles hugged him tightly, tempting him without intent as he worked on you. Soon, he joined another finger to stretch you further and you were now a mess underneath him, thrashing and moaning at the astonishing sensation he provided you. The burn of his digits twisting your insides gave you a bit of discomfort but you knew that the real deal will be a greater challenge. Just seeing the tent in his pants told you enough about his size and lord, it's going to break you.

You tried not to think about it at the moment, too busy consumed by the ecstacy in your system. After all, it's not everyday when you're getting fingered by Miles Quaritch. This moment will stay in your memories till the day you die. A curse left your mouth, when you started to feel your orgasm rapidly approaching but to your disappointment, your partner stopped and pulled his glistening fingers out of you, before you could finish.

You groaned at him, making him laugh at your pathetic state. "Easy, soldier. The main course is about to begin" He reassured you and took off his pants alongside his underwear, freeing his hard member that was ready to tear you apart. Just like you predicted, he was enormous. It's not like, you've seen anybody else's equipment but you could tell that he wasn't just average. It was hard and pulsating as Miles stroked himself while spreading your legs apart.

"This may hurt a little" He warned you, before entering you, immediately making you hiss in pain as you gripped his shoulder. Quaritch stopped halfway in, drawing little circles on your hip to try and ease your discomfort. The word 'little' didn't really identify the feeling you had at this moment as the burn spread through your body, making you ache. At the same time, you also experienced a great rush of dopamine from the pleasure of his manhood inside of you.

It's what you wanted from the start. No matter how many times you tried to touch yourself and make the terrible feeling go away, it was never enough. But now, your body finally got what it desperately craved for. "I will give you a moment to adjust, okay?" Miles asked, making you feel better to know that he cared about you but you're not going to wait. "No, keep going" You answered. "You sure?" He asked again and you only nodded, closing your eyes to endure another wave of pain when he pushed himself even further than before.

You breathed rapidly, trying to relax yourself while your muscles hugged his member, that was now fully seated inside of you. "Feels good, doesn't it? It will get only better once you get used to me" Miles breathed out, leaving kisses on the side of your face to soothe the pain you felt. "It's alright. I've been hunted, shot at and just fell a few stories down on the ground, I've been through worse" You joked, making him grin in amusement of how you tried to ease the situation.

"I know that you can handle it, you're my little recom after all" He said seductively and started to roll his hips against yours, making you melt at the sensation. It was already hard not to make a sound when he was fully inside you but now, that his manhood was massaging every sensitive part in your body, you couldn't help but be vocal about it. The pain slowly disappeared each second he thrusted into you, as you dug your nails into his back, unable to control yourself.

Your partner tugged his arms behind your shoulders and changed the angle of his entry to meet every sensitive spot in your body. Miles also wasn't silent about his experience. Each time you scratched his skin a little too hard, he growled in your ear and hit your insides even harder than before. Your tight ass drove him crazy and he forced himself not to lose control and fuck you like an animal. You were so pure and quiet compared to the others in his team that scraping you of the last bits of your innocence gave him the reason to live.

Just hearing your voice calling out for him made his member twitch in excitement as he was eager to finish, thanks to your body. "Harder, please" You begged him, wrapping your legs around his waist in an attempt to keep him even closer than before. "Eager, aren't we?" He taunted, before sliding out of you, changing the position and sitting up, forcing you on his lap. "How about you take the lead, tiger?" Quaritch proposed with a smug smile.

You had no other choice but to comply when your body started to complain about the emptiness it felt. You circled your arms around his neck as you sunk yourself on his hard erection, both of you sighing at the returning bliss. You sucked the air in your lungs as the pleasurable experience of getting filled by him came back. Your hips started to move up and down his shaft, a bit sloppy as you've never done anything like this before.

Miles helped you out and took a hold of your hips, guiding you along him and thrusting upwards. He was so deep inside of you, that you could feel his balls brush against your ass when you moved. You breathed heavily against his ear, occasionally letting a moan slip by as your fingers ran along his short dark hair. Despite the growing pleasure and approaching climax, your pace didn't slow down as it only nagged you to go faster.

Quaritch knew that you wouldn't break under the pressure, you were trained to endure it after all, even if it wasn't meant for fucking. He watched in delight as you screwed yourself on his shaft, your muscles spasming each time the tip hit a deep spot in your insides. You were basically the same height, the only difference being that he was built a bit more than you. A curse left your lips as you felt yourself on edge again, glad that this time Miles won't stop you from finishing.

The man noticed your struggle and leaned into your neck, biting hard into your flesh, breaking the final straw and making you climax. You left out a broken moan, your body tightening around Quaritch as waves after waves of ecstasy hit you like a train. Your body was trembling and shaking at the overstimulation Miles gave you, still chasing his own orgasm. He wasn't far behind either, letting his fingers sink into your hips as he rapidly thrusted in your insides, before pulling out and cuming on your exposed stomach.

You watched him come undone under you, tilting his ears behind his head and shutting his eyes, letting the pleasure wash over him. Even at this state, he tried to keep himself collected in front of you but you knew that he struggled a lot. The two of you sat in silence for a while, trying to catch your breaths and pull yourself together. You felt a tingling sensation as the remains of his fluids ran down your abdomen and on your private parts. You didn't mind it too much, It would've been harder to clean up if he came inside you.

Only now did you realize what you had done and how close your face was to his so you flinched away from him in embarrassment, making him laugh. After a moment of cleaning and dressing up, Miles helped you get up and you now stood facing each other, your legs still slightly shaking. "Everything okay?" He asked. "Yeah" You answered, feeling a grin slowly creep on your face, remembering all the shameful acts you've done just a while ago.

"I'm glad to be of service. If you even need my help again, feel free to ask" Quaritch said, winking. A blush crept on your face again, as your tail swayed in excitement. Will there be another time? Right now, you felt relieved that the throbbing feeling in your body finally disappeared. Your mind was no longer occupied with thoughts you shouldn't have, especially in the middle of a serious mission. But you didn't know how long it's going to last. Perhaps one day when you'll need him again, you may just come by to his room. Just maybe.

"Oh, you forgot something" Miles said, as you were ready to leave and walked over to pick up your recom throat communicator from the ground that he removed before. He took a few steps towards you and slowly put it back on its place around your neck, his fingers tickling your still fragile skin. You found it sweet that he cared for such little things but in reality, Quaritch just used the opportunity to look up close at the hickeys he gave you. They were barely visible on the dark blue patterns of your skin but they were still there, letting everybody know that he made you his. His little soldier. 

#avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar 2 #miles quaritch #miles quaritch x reader #quaritch x reader

[2frosty4you]

Hi hon! This is a bit of a weird request so I understand if you don’t wanna do it…

Mercs with an underage reader who looks older than she really is so she gets hit on by older men alot? which clearly makes her uncomfortable.. Maybe this happens while shes out shopping and the catcaller is stupid enough to do to it while ____ is around, how would he react?

If you do end up taking this request thank you, I really appreciate it🫶

Mercs reacting to underage reader being catcalled [Drabble, Platonic]

| All mercs x fem!reader Platonic | 597 words | Masterlist | Ask/Request |

tw: murder, its tf2 so its the norm

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Scout: 

Having grown up with only a mother as a parent he always was protective of the women close to him in his life.

Now with you being like a sister to him and the daughter his mother never had, he has to be stopped from pulling out his scattergun in the mall at this cat-caller and just unloading every bullet he has into his head.

Soldier:

Jumping over tables, chairs and people to get to this sickening cat-caller. You either have to attempt to get soldier off of the man or just let soldier scream and punch the cat-caller while shouting about America and War.

Either the catcalled is let off with a few bone breaks or let off in a casket

Pyro:

Through pyrovision all they see is your face turning to comfort and a large monster made of gray goo in the place of the cat-caller, they mutter something through the mask.

Pyro doesn't want to engage at first but if the cat-caller says anything more they are jumping at him with their fire-axe.

Bashing in the skull of the cat-caller, only seeing this gray goop dissipate then they turn and skip back to you all giddy and happy.

Heavy:

Stands behind you, his shadow fully covering you as his presence itself makes the cat-caller almost piss himself. Being protective of all the women in his life, he is standing there like a bear ready to mutilate that man.

He grabs the guy's head head to say something to the cat-caller.

Which you cannot hear but makes that man go running from the hills and the Russian to come back and usher you to the deli.

Demoman:

If he isn’t piss drunk he is more calm, moving you away from the cat-caller and changing the subject to something more your to interests.

But if demo is drunk? Well, there is a bomb in the cat-caller's car, a bomb in his pockets, a bomb in his shoe, a bomb in his hat. There is not one place a bomb won’t be. And I mean it.

Engineer:

Being a Southern gentleman he talks to the cat-caller in his calm Texan accent, buttering him up making the man feel guilty acting like you are his kid.

Then when the man is more less on edge he unsheathes his gunslinger, and threatens to rearrange his body into a way which will make him never be able to talk to women again.

He puts on the glove and walks back to you, offering to buy you ice-cream or any sweet treat.

Medic: 

What cat-caller? What the guy in his fridge? ohhh yeahhhhh. 

Yeah that cat-caller ain't lasting long if medic is around, he tracks him down and dismembers him, selling off his organs to buy you something special.

Sniper:

Sniper doesn’t say anything in the moment.

He stays quiet, moving you to walk away from the cat-caller.

But late at night, while the cat-caller is going home drunk in the dark of the night. He tracks him down and plants a bullet deep in-between his eyes.

Spy: 

That cat-caller has a target on his back now.

Spy may seem indifferent while the two of you walk past the cat-caller, but inside he has thinking of all the ways he could ruin that man’s life. Already prepared to unleash hell on him.

He stalks him, unearths private files, indecent photos of him, tax fraud, any criminal record he has, all accounts of his verbal assault and more to ensure he never can get a job or live a life ever again.

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#↪⋆GhosyFrost #↪⋆Tf2 #↪⋆GhostyWrites #↪⋆Requests #↪⋆GhostyDrabbles #Sniper #sniper x reader #tf2 #tf2 x reader #reader x tf2 #fem reader #tf2 heavy #tf2xreader #tf2 spy #tf2 scout x reader #tf2 scout #scout tf2 #tf2 soldier #x reader #team fortress 2 #medic x reader #spy x reader #heavy x reader #pyro x reader #engineer x reader #demoman x reader #soldier x reader #team fortress #team fortress two x reader #platonic

[weskin-time]

Rest

Captain John Price x GN!Reader

youre a prideful idiot who wont take a break even when their body is screaming at them to heal and rest, and Price humbles you.

not beta read

i know more about the air force than i know about the army. i used to be in ROTC so i have very faint ideas on how the military works im also still loopy on pain meds so i apologize for any mistakes this also just fuckin sucks ass im sorry.

I took the saying "fuck the military" too literally and now im writing fics for old british army men

You were the definition of exhausted. For three weeks you were deployed out to a frigid Russian forest trying to find the location of some worthless man. You were sent out with a team of men to lead this mission, you knew you could handle it, you knew Gaz and the other men who came with you could handle it, but no one can handle Russian winters better than Russians.

It had been a useless hunt at first, slow and steady making your way through bases and killing dozens of men before you got intel on where the man you were looking for was hiding. After three weeks in Russia, you finally arrived back home with new intel and the man in question captured.

Your bones ached with chill that never left you, as if the snow had sunk itself into your flesh and kissed your bones, your fingers ached the most, even through heavy gloves you could never shake the numbing chill. Your body felt heavy as if your collar bones weighed 40 pounds, every breath you took was deep and sore, you legs were made of lead as you limped from the helicopter pads to the weapons bay. Your eyes strained in the darkness of the night and you tried your hardest to not close them as you walked the path. You didn't have time to sleep or rest you had to clear and turn in your guns before even thinking of rest, you had paperwork to fill out, reports needed to be made to be processed, a meeting with Captain Price and Laswell needed to be scheduled, you didnt even want to think about the paper work you needed to fill out for capturing a man, and you told Gaz you would take his weapons to the bay to clear them for him so he could get some much needed rest. He looked the worst out of the two of you and you couldn't just not help him and his puppy dog eyes, the two of you were very close even though you were a higher rank than him, which he hated the hell of and you teased him for it.

You did sustain a few injuries over the three weeks, sprained left ankle, you were stabbed in the same leg in the thigh, and a bunch more cuts and bruises but those were minor, Gaz helped you patch up your stab wound as you tried not to punch him out of reflex when he got out a needle and thread. Gaz took a few scrapes here and there but he mostly was just exhausted from the cold, probably more than you were, or maybe he flashed you his puppy dog eyes knowing your heart couldn't say no to him, either way he was probably already resting up in his warm bed trying to sleep away the cold ache.

You noticed you were slightly swaying when you entered the weapons bay, your limp wasn't the only thing causing it, you were exhausted, but there was no time to rest. Not surprising that the bay was empty, it was almost 1am and almost everyone from your squad was sound asleep in their beds, lucky them. You didnt know or care at the moment with what they do with the Russian captive, youll figure it out after the meeting with Price and Laswell.

Setting down Gaz's sniper you began to de-arm yourself taking the M17 from your thigh holster and the M4 off you back, unloading the clips and mags from them and began to take them apart for cleaning. Cleaning guns was always fun for you, taking them apart and putting them back together, the little clicks and sounds they made were satisfying. Your eyelids felt more like lead as you took apart the pistol, you swear you blinked for a second and when you opened them back up again your head was almost on the table, you knew you were tired but you didnt think you were that tired. You exhaled and scrunched your eyes closed before opening them wide as if that would help you. Youre so sore you can feel the muscles in your shoulders straining as you picked up Gaz's rifle and began to clear that. There was no time to sleep you needed to get so many things done before you even had the idea of resting, you wondered if Ghost ever got this way and you wondered what could keep him up for so long and maybe you could pull the answer out of him.

"Master Sargent Y/L/N!" Rang a deep British voice, husky like whiskey and cigar smoke, Captain Price has entered the building.

You stood up fast from where you were sitting, shooting up straight and turning around as you stood at attention and saluted your commanding officer, the little surprise woke you up enough to jolt you fast enough. You took him in as he walked to you, why the fuck was he still wearing that dumb bucket hat at 1am? He was without his gear, just wearing an army green tight cotton shirt that was tucked into his light sand camo cargo pants and held up with a belt. You tried your hardest to keep your eyes straight ahead of you at attention but it was very hard not to stare at the way the shirt hugged him way too well. It was still loose enough to leave some idea of what was underneath to your imagination but tight enough to shift and move over his muscles as he walked to you. Gaz and you one time joked that he looked like a cranberry farmer or a dad who got into fishing after retiring with that bucket hat on his head. He was in his late 30s but you swear he was one of the most attractive men you've ever seen in your life, even his weird beard was hot on him.

"At ease kid." He stood next to you and watched you slightly relax out of attention and sit back down to work on the guns again.

"What're you doing up this late Captain?" you asked him as you began to finish up Gaz's gun to avoid his blue stare.

"Just got done talking to Gaz about your mission, wanted to check in to see how things went with you." you were grateful you could have a small debriefing now to get one thing out of the way before you had to work on the rest of everything else. He placed a large hand on your shoulder, putting some weight on your sore body and asked about the mission to which you tried your hardest not to slur your words in a sleepy haze as you gave a simple report of everything, keeping in the story of your injuries and how you got them.

His hand was so big his palm alone covered your shoulder by itself and they were so warm too, it almost unfroze your aching bones just by his touch alone, and the warmth lightly spread to your face, which tickled your eyes making them even more sleepy. You wondered why he put it there in the first place and why he was slightly leaning on you.

"I wanted to have a small word with you." he announced after you finished up the short debrief. your interest was peaked quickly at his words and you sheepishly looked up at him in confusion. He took a small breath in before sighing, "I'm putting you on leave Sargent."

That peaked something that wasn't pleasant in you. Call yourself stubborn because you instantly began to drag your heels into the conversation, "Price I cant go on leave!"

"Just for a week at most y/n." His voice was that of a parent telling their child that they couldn't get Maccas on the way home.

"I have so much I have to do, I cant just sit on my ass while everyone else gets on with it." You argued although your brain was a tad fuzzy from how his hand was on you and the lack of sleep so your arguing wasn't very good in the slightest.

"You're exhausted, I can see it in your eyes kid-"

You cut him off, "Im not-"

"Let me finish solider."

You fell quiet.

"You do this every time you get back from a mission that you're commanding." He explained. "You get back on base and while everyone else takes a few days off to heal and rest you run around like a bloody chicken with its head cut off trying to get work done. I'm helping you out here y/n."

Your ego didn't like that. "Sir I'm fine, I'll get sleep tonight and I'll be chipper by morning, good as new." You tried to be polite with your arguing back.

"And what? Walk around on that healing leg of yours?" His eyes flicked to your left thigh before meeting your eyes again. "I saw you limping when you got off the helo. I think you're the first solider that's fought with me about getting a break."

"I'm alright Captain, really, I'll just finish up here then go to bed and I'll be back to myself in no time tomorrow and get all the reports and paper work ready and done." If you weren't so sluggish you would have felt more anger bubbling in your throat then the little spark that you felt now. Your words were slurring slightly and you knew deep down he was right but you didn't want to hurt your pride and admit it.

"Stand up." He ordered.

Confused you tried to push your body up but was completely halted by his hand on your shoulder. He wasn't even leaning his full weight onto you and your thighs shook at you trying to stand up against him, this should have been easy but it felt like your body was shutting down, you were being provided proof in what he was saying was true and even then you still tried to fight it, but nothing came of it. Were you really that weak? You weren't weak. This should be nothing compared to what you can do normally and yet you felt a sting on your ego. Your whole body protested trying to get up again.

You hung your head in a sign as you stopped trying. A very very tired part of your brain popped up with the thought of liking this weird imbalance of power being displayed, it liked the way he looked when you had to crane your sore neck up to see him, loved the way his eyes felt as they looked down upon you. You need to shut that part of your brain off before you eat your own shoes.

"It's an order Sargent." his voice was firm.

Some dumb part of you had one weak last attempt at an argument in you as you slurred, "I'm not even that tired." and as soon as it left your mouth you cringed at how fucking stupid you sounded.

"Oh come on that was pathetic." he was right it was a very pathetic last attempt.

Your eyes trailed up his toned arms and to his eyes, "Fine."

"Good cause you had no choice. I already had it approved." He blew out some air from his nose in a small laugh.

A break did sound nice, the thought of your shitty cot and thin blanket sounded like heaven to you, like the thought alone lifted your bones of some of the deep ache. You knew your past actions labeled you as stubborn, stubborn enough to warrant this entire situation. You probably were the only solider in the world who protested a vacation. You sighed as he removed his hand from your shoulder, the anger you once felt sloshing away down the drain as your head began a dull thrumming.

"Cant have one of my best men running around like that sweetheart." his voice was course and sent a shiver down your spine, you closed your eyes and mulled over the pet name in your head, you loved the way it made your heart flutter and your chest tighten. If only would call you soft names all the time, you dont think you could get tired of hearing him talk ever.

Your eyes opened wide when you felt a thumb and a finger pinch your chin and force you to look up, your eyes looked into his blue ones in tired confusion mixed with shock. Your face felt even warmer than before, it spread from your face down your neck and seeped into your aching bones and began to thaw them out, the warm that you so missed in those weeks settled into your flesh.

"Hey, how about i take you out tomorrow? There's this new pub Soap wants me to try and since you're not doing anything might as well come with me for a drink or two."

You have to be so very tired with how long it took to register in your mind that your captain was asking you out on a fucking date. You just sat there for a second in shock before your brain caught up to your ears and sent your heart into overdrive. You were defiantly not tired anymore.

"I-, wha- uh, yea sure! i mean." You were so flustered that you fumbled over your words which made you even more flustered. "Yea I would love that, it would be fun Price." you coughed out finally.

"Good. I'll come by your flat in the afternoon." He leaned down to you and he pulled you closer to him by your chin. "Now please go get some sleep, kid. Youll need it for tomorrow sweetheart." and placed a kiss to your forehead before turning away and leaving you as if he didnt just ask you on a date, call you pet names, and kiss your forehead. His beard was scratchy and the skin still tickled after he departed but it felt nice, comforting. You totally didnt stare at his ass as he walked away and left the weapons bay. How the fuck are you going to be able to sleep now??

#tezi post #call of duty modern warefare #modern warefare 2 #captain john price #captain price #john price headcanons #captain john price x reader #mw2 x reader #cod x reader #mw2 headcanons #cod imagine #mw2 imagine

[voidchillz]

Ground Together

(Horrortale SansXBarista MC)

I’m realising I haven’t actually shown any of my new and improved writing, so here’s a silly little barista concept I thought up :)

(more below the line)

***

…He’d been staring for a while now. Not at you. Thank the gods he hadn’t been looking at you. He’d been looking at the menu, and you wouldn’t really have minded. It was a relatively quiet day today which meant you could mind your own business in the break room, avoiding eye contact on your phone of course, while near enough to the counter so that when he decided to take his order you’d be ready for it and not get in trouble. Foolproof plan with minimal interaction. Only the longer he stared, the more you began to realise it was a quiet day because every time someone tried to come in, they spotted him through the window and not-so-discreetly bolted for it. He was staring at the chalkboard with such a haunting heavy glare that if you had been the unfortunate victim of it, you probably would’ve high-tailed it like the other possible customers. For the first ten minutes you just figured that this was his first time ordering from a complicated cafe. Completely understandable reaction, it could be quite overwhelming, it took you nearly three months to get used to it. In a moment of weakness after another twenty minutes, you resorted to the internet to ask if Monsters had many coffee shops in the Underground. You knew it was probably a stupid question but you hated to think this poor guy was dealing with indecision paralysis all by himself. Maybe you could offer some help if he really was confused, though you did wonder if your nerves would even allow it. The whole time, the only movement you had seen from this guy was the slightest shuffle from when he had sat down at a table in the back and the slight flicker of his glare scanning the board of today’s offers. You’d heard the bell ring so you went out to get ready for his order, but it had been a bit of a shock to see someone of his stature cross the room so quickly and quietly.

He was huge. Like, wild bear huge. Wide and tall enough to look out of place in such a quaint cafe, and with thick sturdy bones that dwarfed anyone on the planet. You could tell because they were visible. Not injury-visible, as in no-skin-visible. He was a skeleton Monster. Sockets and all. One of which had a vividly deep crimson orb of light inside, roughly the size of a goofball with a pinprick of black inside imitating something of a pupil. He had held the same position for nearly a half hour now. Obviously strong hands that you would’ve liked to take a closer look at locked firmly together, elbows resting on the table to hold his skull up, his broad shoulders set and still, and his huge body slightly hunched over the wood. You really didn’t want to make him feel any more uncomfortable than he probably did, you wouldn’t be having a good time either if you were stared at like an exhibit while puzzling over a giant complicated menu. He was intimidating, that was for definite, but oddly fascinating… You chewed the inner flesh of your cheek as punishment for being so damn curious. It was rude to stare, you just really couldn’t help it. You’d seen plenty of different kinds of Monsters. Cyclopes, Dogs, Fairies, Ghosts. You name it, there was probably a Monster variation like it. A skeleton Monster though… From the few glances you allowed yourself, he seemed to have the same basic features of a Human skeleton, only multiplied by five, with subtly sharper shapes, and a lot more fused plates of bone to make up for muscle and cartilage. This man was the visual definition of big-boned. But it wasn’t right to stare, you had to be empathetic with what was done to Monsters… Humans had trapped them Underground for over a century, and getting stared at by some rude barista after only a few months of finally earning freedom would not be an excellent afternoon. So with a self-inflicted pinch to your hand, you forced your eyes back to the phone you were meant to be avoiding eye contact with, tapping its darkened screen back to life and scolding yourself as you idly stared at the unhelpful Google page.

And you would’ve stewed in embarrassment and shame a little longer, only for the scrape of a chair sliding along the floor to nearly make you fall out of yours. You half sprinted back to your post, standing straight up and steadying yourself on the marble counter, trying to remember the catchphrase you were paid twelve bucks an hour to memorise. But you seemed to forget your name entirely as you finally found yourself less than two feet away from the skeleton.

You thought he was just tall, oh no. Mountainous was more the word. You had to grit your teeth to stop your jaw from dropping. His clothes seemed to match his built-like-a-brick-wall exterior, thick and heavy. A grey wool beanie on his skull, a slightly tattered looking hoodie in a distinct ashy blue colour with clear patches of repair and sewed up tears, and a much fresher looking sweater beneath it. You tried not to point out to yourself that, at his height, you could even see the sweatpants he was wearing behind the counter. But with a trembling little intake of breath, words began to form.

“H-…hello… sir…”

…That was weak. You pursed your lips into a little apologetic smile, hoping he wouldn’t be too upset at your shakiness. General fear of Monsters wasn’t at all necessary. Of course, there was diversity in temperaments and social habits, but Humans are just as different. You’d seen the occasional posturing Sea Horse or grumpy Ghost, but those were individuals, just like Humans. So you treated every encounter with an open-mind and a respectful attitude. But you weren’t exactly used to… this. You’d seen giant buff wolves on two legs and with teeth the size of knives that looked like sweet little puppies in comparison this guy. It was that blood red stare that sent chills down your spine. There were sentient mini volcanoes you’d met that were more expressive than him.

That fierce crimson eye watched you for at least a minute. He didn’t say anything. Just stared you down with a blank iron stiff expression.

“…hi.”

The slight fear of being beneath that glare melted as quick as snow under sun… his voice was really nice… You definitely hadn’t expected that. It was deep and baritone with a raspy edge to it. You didn’t know what you expected, but it sounded a lot gentler than you thought it would. Something between a growl and a purr that was very pleasant on the ears. It made you a little disappointed that he seemed to be the quiet type. He didn’t appear to be glaring anymore, his sockets were a little wider now, more alert and less jittery. So with a little more confidence, you quietly cleared your throat and spoke up with what you hoped looked like a more genuine smile.

“What can I get you today?”

…

Okay…

No answer.

That’s fine, he’s just thinking a little more. Usually when customers had that momentary pause and standard thoughtful hum, they checked the board again to remind themselves of their order. He just stared at you. It wasn’t as terrifying as the glare he had used before. It was more of a thousand-yard gaze. You were plenty familiar with spacing out during your break times, but you didn’t tend to really look at anything when you did. Just letting your eyes go blurry and blinking a minute and a half later with the slightly stingy wateriness that made you focus again. He on the other hand, was looking directly at you. That softly glowing orb of red light watched you in dead silence, and as still as it was, you could’ve sworn it had gotten a little bigger. Probably just because he was closer now.

Your own heartbeat was louder than him. Was he breathing? Did he even need to breathe? Your slight concern and curiosity must’ve slipped through, because you got to see the most movement out of him yet when the light flickered with what you recognised as him slipping back into his own head, his skull tilting the slightest bit up to look at the chalkboard again. You mused to yourself that it’d be great if he worked here. At his height, he could easily reach the board and change it without you having to get a ladder out. But out of understanding politeness, you didn’t bother him with another question and just let him reassess.

You watched the subtle way that two thick bone ridges above his sockets knitted together like eyebrows, it was interesting to see what parts applied to certain features a regular Human skeleton wouldn’t have. Your eyes were drawn to his teeth as an example, he didn’t have lips of course, but something like it. His chin hung ever so slightly loose, sharp thin teeth with plates of bones that melded into the rest of his skull seamlessly, covering where gums should’ve been. The joint where his squared jaw should’ve rounded off completely disappeared, making it look like smooth cheeks. Were they squishy like flesh or hard like the rest of his skull? His nasal bone was much more pronounced than a Human’s would be as well, so it looked slightly more like a nose than just a hole.

The faintest little sound of scraping bone grabbed your attention, making you glance down at his hand to see him gently flexing his index and middle fingers against his thumb. They slowly curled in and out of his hand in a steady motion, the small joints of bone between his distal and centre phalanx straining against the inner side of his thumb’s distal. You glanced back up at his face, spotting the way the orb of red light flickered and sparked ever so slightly. He didn’t need facial features to look distressed.

“Do you need any help…?”

You trod very carefully, making sure your voice was gentle and calm but steering away from condescending. The eyelight flicked down to you again without his skull moving. With years of practice, you managed to steel yourself and offer a helpful little smile.

He stared for a long while, and you wondered if he was surprised or simply sizing you up.

…

With the slightest movement of his skull, he nodded, triggering an internal deep sigh of relief as you got your barista knowledge ready.

Over then next minutes you explained what the sizes, variations, and overall flavours of the drinks were. The whole time he kept every ounce of his attention on you, it felt kind of refreshing… Whenever you went through this spiel, the poor soul you were trying to convey this information to was lost within the first few minutes. He was absorbed in every word, making no visual or vocal sign that he was taking any of it in other than the intense way he studied you in silence.

You couldn’t stop smiling… in a dumb sorta circumstantial way, he was the first person that had paid this much attention to you.

***

This was… confusing… really confusing…

Skull had tried to make sense of it while he was in his seat, but all he could think about was the people staring at him outside, the way you kept looking over at him when you thought he didn’t notice, the fact he was taking so long in the first place. It was eventually waiter’s guilt that made him get up, that and you were really distracting him. Just pick something random and leave. He really just wanted to get a drink and go home, he hadn’t expected to stay so long. But seriously, why did Humans need so many options for how they boil beans? He came in here because it looked quiet enough to soothe the headache that the outside crowds had induced on him, but it had only gotten worse. Scanning the board for something easy to say didn’t really help. Pronouncing half of them looked even more difficult than understanding the rest. If Crooks wanted to come back here, Skull really didn’t want to be remembered as the freak that sat in a coffee shop for half an hour and left without buying anything. He doubted any Human would be ballsy enough to actively try and piss him off, but he didn’t want spit in his next coffee. It would be all around unpleasant to deal with that, for a number of reasons.

He hadn’t even reached the counter when you had skidded into view, it was a bit of a shock, enough to make his bones lock up. But as soon as he saw that slightly frizzed hair and wide eyes…

And those lips…

The memory of any word on the board might as well have dusted in his head.

So… tiny…

He hadn’t really registered anything today beyond where he was going and what he was doing. It made it easier to think quickly that way. But now he got to see you properly…

His mind went blank.

He didn’t know Humans could look like that… he just didn’t know what it was about you that made him stop so abruptly.

“H-…hello… sir…”

Oh dear gods. Who allowed such a little creature to have such a sweet voice? You looked so fragile… Skull kept himself firmly planted in his spot, grinding his teeth shut to force the broad smile that tried to pull his neutrality out of order down. It was nearly laughable that you called him ‘sir’, so tense at the sight of him. He was mildly impressed you hadn’t been more frightened actually, most Humans were. That was, until you smiled. That pretty little way those smooth warm lips curled made something in his marrow shiver. And for once, he didn’t need to think hard just to speak.

“…hi.”

He had to thank his own face for not reacting so obviously when your eyes sparkled like that… He did feel it though. The fluttery hot flush that thrummed in his ribcage, threatening to crawl up his spine to his cheekbones. The way you brightened made him oddly proud of himself. And he didn’t know why that was either.

“What can I get you today?”

Oh… that was nice… you sounded a little stronger this time. Happier. It soothed his head just that little bit more. He did wonder if you were only putting on a professional face. On the few occasions he had gone out by himself, plenty of Humans had been their usual frightened selves. Shaky and about half a quick shock away from scampering off like rats. Skull never liked going out because of it… too loud, too bright, too crowded. He’d endured all manner of nasty glares and scoffs that made his thoughts darken. People wanted him to stay out of their cities, and he just wanted to stay in the woods. Skull didn’t actively dislike being outside, but there were usually so many factors and deterrents that he associated with it that made him avoid it. Safety wasn’t a concern. He hadn’t met a single Human that could land a good blow on him or his brother. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t always kept his senses sharp whenever they went out. By now, his spacial awareness was as useful as it was overwhelming. It was Crooks he was doing this all for, exploring as much as possible, experimenting and admiring the sights. There were a few rare occasions he’d enjoyed himself. Big parks full of friendly birds and strong trees were his favourite, people were much more spread out there, keeping to themselves and staying moderately quiet. Buildings like these may not have expected big customers like him, but he sometimes preferred it. Big spaces with lots of people overwhelmed him, big spaces with less people made him anxious, and he avoided small crowded places all together. But small spots with less people meant he could focus easier, it meant he could keep part of his focus on everything around him, or at least he had hoped it would.

He felt those eyes watch him attentively and respectfully, that warm smile making his shoulders unlock and his jaw feel loose. It wasn’t until he saw you blink and momentarily cut him off from those eyes that pulled him back to the coffee shop. What had you asked him? Right. Coffee. Pick a coffee. Did it have to be a coffee? Some of the pastries in the glass case next to the counter looked nice… Was hot chocolate up there? Skull couldn’t say he really liked cocoa, or at least what he remembered it tasted like, but it was familiar and simple. Unfortunately, the longer he searched the board, the dizzier he felt. It was only slightly better now that the words were closer, but not much…

“Do you need any help…?”

Yes. Please. Gods, this was embarrassing. The first Human he didn’t hate on sight and he was barely talking. He wanted to thank you for your patience and respect, it wasn’t something he often received from the cocky arrogant pricks he dealt with on a regular basis. He wanted to learn more about you and why you made him feel so knotted up but… but in a good way. He wanted to get closer… feel your heart beating or pounding or fluttering, look into every fragmented detail of your eyes and memorise them, run his claw over your skin and watch the blood rush beneath that thin veil of flesh…

That…

That was probably weird.

He needed to stop thinking about that. Because anymore time on the subject and his feet would feel considerably less than safely rooted behind the tiny countertop that kept him from stepping forward. With a harsh kick to his subconscious, he figured he needed to order quicker. Get it out of the way and then see if talking to you was even possible for him. After his internal struggle, Skull nodded.

…

You’ve been talking about coffee for nearly ten minutes. Skull didn’t understand a word of it, but you spoke so fluidly and pleasantly, he didn’t dare disturb your flow and ask questions, even if he could. You’d mentioned at least a dozen toppings and a dozen more syrups with different combination suggestions. You’d even offered different sugar types, which only served more confusion. Brown? Caster? Soft? Granulated? What was the difference?! They were all sugar! They were all going to be melted in the hot water! Unless of course he wanted ‘iced’ or ‘chilled’ which spiralled into an entirely new conversation. Lattes, tea greens, and bobas, oh my. And those were just a few options. There were frappes and smoothies and milkshakes and…

Skull had to repeatedly stop himself from just lifting his hand up to manually cover your mouth and shut you up. He loved to hear your smooth sweet voice but if it was physically possible, he was about to go cross-eyed. To prevent his rudeness he focused on your smile… how pleased and warm you sounded, the way your lips curved as you spoke, the little wrinkle in the corners of your eyes as you smiled so genuinely…

. . .

…Genuine…

That’s what it was.

Every other Human he’d met had been putting up an act. Pretending not to stare, thick passive aggression, sickly sweet smiles over bitter souls. You were genuine. Yes you stared, but to the man she was talking to, not his dead socket or sharp teeth. Every step of the way, you remained honest and patient, understanding his unsaid issues and stresses without even having to pry or ask. And there was not a molecule about that smile that didn’t reflect the warm shine of the essence of your being.

…That’s what he loved about you…

***

Perhaps I could write more on this if ya’ll want it? Maybe a little rivalry between some other silly skeletons that visit their favourite cute barista? 👀

Who knows.

Hope you enjoyed ;D

#barista au #ground together #undertale au #horrortale sans x reader #horror sans #sans horrortale #horrortale sans #coffee shop au #I’m a sucker for the sillies