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phoward89 · 29 days

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Based on this ask

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is his own warning, obsessive!Coriolanus, manipulation, murder, unplanned pregnancy

You’re by yourself in the house you share with your little sister Maude Ivory and your cousins whenever a loud series of knocks sounded on it. Oh god, you hope it wasn't Billy Taupe coming around to torment (woo) Lucy Gray again.

Hell, he moved out of the Covey house and into the Mayor’s house to live with Mayfair as soon as Lucy Gray was shoved onto that train’s cattle car headed to the Capitol to be tribute in the Hunger Games. Just because she won; came back in one piece, doesn't mean that he has the right to come around. Begging her to take him back, even though he has no intentions on leaving Mayfair.

Why would he? He's got it made by shacking up with the Mayor's daughter. Hell, being with Mayfair means he never has to work again.

Sighing, you placed your composition book down on the sofa and went over to the door. When you pulled it open, you were shocked that it wasn't Billy Taupe at the threshold, but a peacekeeper.

A very handsome peacekeeper, might you add.

You had to crane your neck up slightly to look him in the eyes. Eyes that were icy blue, like a frozen over lake. You noticed that his buzz cut was platinum blonde, a blonde so light that only the gods of ancient myths could have such fair hair. Your eyes didn't miss his prominent nose or his broad shoulders and tapered waist either.

But it was his smile that had you dazzled. A smile that was bright, splitting his face in half with perfect pearly whites.

“Hello. I'm Private Coriolanus Snow; I was Lucy Gray’s mentor during the games and since I'm serving here in 12 I just wanted to check up on her. Make sure that she’s alright.”

“Yea, she mentioned you.” You nodded, feeling your heart sink into the pit of your stomach. Of course, your cousin's mentor looked like a Greek god. No wonder Lucy Gray seems to have a little crush on him. No way would he ever talk to you again once he got to see her.

Nobody ever talked to you again after spending time with Lucy Gray. Hell, her voice made the mockingjays stop and listen to her sing. Her beauty was exotic; she was a beautiful mystery that every man wanted to solve.

“I’m Y/N Scarlett.” You introduced yourself, only to tell the peacekeeper, “She's deep in the meadow that's some yards behind the house. She's working on a song, but I'm sure she won't mind if you interrupt her.”

“She never mentioned you.” Coriolanus said, moreso to himself then to you, his eyes raking over your body.

“Why would she? She was in the Capitol for the Hunger Games, not an afternoon tea party.” You sarcastically scoffed. Unknown to you, Lucy Gray did talk about the Covey, including your little sister, just not you. “Well, since I told you where to find my cousin, you better be on your way.” You said, politely dismissing him so that the blonde could go woo your cousin; you could also finish writing your thoughts down in your composition book.

“Is she doing alright?” Private Snow asked instead of saying goodbye.

‘She seems fine to me. Went right back to singing and charming the stage.” You wanted to add living off of her charms too, but you didn't think that'd go over too well with the buzzcut blonde grunt.

“That's good, I'm glad singing while covered in a bunch of lethal rainbow snakes didn't stop her from singing.”

“Lucy Gray stop singing because of the snakes? Are you kidding me? That girl loves snakes, is always playing with the slithering demons.”

“You don't like snakes, I take it.”

“You ever get snakebite because your loving cousin played a practical joke on you by hiding a harmless garter snake in your shawl that was nestled on the grass?”

“Uh, no, can't say that I have.”

“Yea, well, I have and it's not fun. So, no, I don't like snakes.” You dryly told the blonde peacekeeper.

“Would you like to go for a walk?” Coriolanus asked with a charming smile painted on his face.

One of your brows rose up. “To the meadow to see Lucy Gray?”

No, Coriolanus wanted to take you on a walk.

By yourself.

There was something about you that he was instantly attracted to. As soon as he laid eyes on you, all thoughts on your cousin left his mind.

It's was like ‘Lucy Gray, Lucy Gray who?’ in his brain. She didn't matter to him anymore, but suddenly you did.

You seemed so beautiful to him. Like a fine piece of spun glass that holiday ornaments are crafted from.

Coriolanus couldn't explain it, but he has the primal urge to claim you. To protect you; make you his. All because of the sweet look in your doe eyes whenever you answered the door for him.

“No.” Coriolanus shook his head. “I want to take you for a walk, spend some time with you before I have to head back to base.”

He wanted to spend time with you? Oh boy, now that's unexpected.

All you could do was smile and squeak out, “Okay.”

And that's how you became Private Snow's girl, much to Lucy Gray's dismay.

You've been seeing Coriolanus for a few weeks now. Every weekend he seems to get weekend passes from his commander; uses them to stay with you at the Covey house. The Covey takes to him pretty well, especially when he brings over something from the Mellark bakery with every visit. He also brings over large bags of ice too, which is a godsend considering your family doesn't have an icebox.

Lucy Gray looks at him with sorrow and pain in her big, brown eyes. It's evident that she's disappointed that Coryo (what he's told you to call him) picked you over her. See, nobody ever picks you over her.

Well, not until Coryo that is.

But he's not like the other district boys because he's not district. He's a Capitol boy. And you know what they say…

You can take the boy out of the Capitol, but you can't take the Capitol out of the boy.

Today's a sweltering hot summer's day so you, Coryo, his friend Sejanus, and the Covey are at the lake: swimming.

You and your platinum blonde peacekeeper are the last to enter the water. Everyone else is already in the water as you two stand by the dock, stripping out of your clothes. Despite having seen Coriolanus naked a few times already, seeing him pull off his shirt makes you swoon.

You can't help it. He's just so handsome. Too pretty to be real.

Goddamn, those broad shoulders, toned arms, toned chest, and tapered waist of his gets you every time.

And yes, when the Covey's asleep he sneaks into your bed; fucks you senseless. The two of you think that Lucy Gray doesn't know, but she does. Her room and yours share a wall, she has ears and can hear the noises you and Coriolanus don't even try to quiet down.

Lucy Gray's disappointed in how reckless you're acting with Coriolanus. The last thing the Covey needs is for you to fall pregnant. Your family can barely stay afloat as it is.

But, on the other hand, your cousin can't help, but to see how happy you and her former mentor look, laughing and giggling as he chases you down the dock, causing you to jump into the water with him cannonballing in right after you.

The loud sounds of laughs, squeals, and overall cheerfulness mixed with water splashing loudly fills the air. Everyone's having fun.

But despite that, Coryo seems a bit melancholy. So much so that he swims a few yards away from the group, just to have a moment to himself. You have no idea what's going on in that head of his, but you don't want him to feel alone. As if he can't lean on you.

So, you swim over to him; climb up his back like a sloth and wrap your arms around him. You rest your chin on his shoulder, causing him to grab your hand and lift it up to his lips; pressing a kiss against your knuckles.

The boys, Sejanus included, are cleaning the fish that they caught while your little sister's digging up swamp potatoes (Katniss as Lucy Gray calls it) and giving it to Lucy Gray, only for your cousin to remind Maude Ivory that the plant’s roots ain't ready yet. Barb Azure was with Lucy Gray, just talking.

And you're off to the side, laying on a blanket with Coryo. Your head’s in his lap as he lazily runs his long fingers thru your hair. Looking out at the view of the crystal blue lake and the trees surrounding it, Coryo told you, “It's beautiful out here.” Flashing you a smile, he added in, “Thank you for sharing this with me. You sharing your special spots with me means a lot, little dove.”

“No need to thank me, Coryo. I enjoy spending time with you; bringing you along on Covey excursions just happens to be a part of that.” You replied with a genuine smile.

“You know, there's so much I’d like to show you in the Capitol.”

“Lucy Gray says that the Capitol's a horrible place.”

“Don't listen to her, Y/N. She never told me about you, but she talked an awful lot about your little sister and the rest of the Covey.”

“She talked about them, but not me?” You asked, feeling sudden heartbreak and betrayal from your cousin.

Coriolanus’ heart hurts for you. He can't imagine how it'd feel to be so easily dismissed by his cousin, Tigris, who practically raised him. Just seeing your face so fallen and grief stricken at the revelation that Lucy Gray talked about all of her cousins, except for you, made him want to protect you from her.

Yes!

Coryo wants to protect you from your own cousin.

But not just her. No, he wants to protect you from everything that might cause you harm. And the only way to do that is bringing you back to the Capitol with him.

“Do you like it here, in District 12?” He wondered. He personally hates it; secretly wants you to hate it too.

“No.” You shook your head. “It's miserable in 12.”

“It's not miserable in the Capitol. The Capitol had rules, law and order, food, and warm beds.” Coryo recited, as if reading an ad from a vacation brochure. “I hope that when I go back one day that you'll come with me.” He confessed, looking down at you with a hopeful smile.

“I dunno if I could leave the Covey. They're my family, Coryo.” You honestly answered, feeling a sense of dread at the idea of leaving your family behind for another life. A life thousands and thousands of miles away from them.

“But you could leave me, your man?” Coryo asked incredulously, his jaw ticking.

“Coryo-” You tried to reason, only for him to cut you off with a blunt honest retort of, “You're going to have to choose one day, little dove. I just hope you pick me.”

Silence fell over the two of you as he twisted his torso, reaching into his bag beside him to get something. You didn't pay it any mind, figuring he was getting a snack or something that he packed. But, when you noticed a balled up piece of orange material in his hand as he straightened his back to resume his previous position of sitting, you couldn't help but wonder what the material was.

It wouldn't take you long to find out.

Handing you over the orange ball of fine spin silk, he softly told you, “It belonged to my mother.”

“Oh, Coryo…” Your hands gently clutched the token to your heart. You knew that it must've meant a lot to him; that you must mean a lot to him too in order to receive such a gift. “Thank you, I'll take good care of it.” You studied the orange gift, concluding that it's a scarf. “I promise.” You smiled, looking between him and the scarf. Taking his hand in yours, you sighed, “I only wish that I had something meaningful to give you back.”

“I don't need anything, but your love, darling.” Coryo assured you before bending down, cupping your cheek with his large hand, and capturing your lips in a soft, but hungry kiss.

The following week, you began getting sick in the early mornings. Sometimes, you'd get sick due to a strong smell too. You even seemed more fatigued, sometimes even feeling a bit flushed and dizzy. And your boobs were tender. You knew what the symptoms mean and it terrifies you.

It terrifies you because you and Coryo never talked about the possibility of children. Would he even want a baby? He's a peacekeeper, is he even allowed to claim a baby with a Covey girl? Would the baby be a bastard? Would he-

“Hey, little dove, what's wrong?” Coryo asked, walking up your front porch with a bag of ice over his shoulder and a paper bag labeled Mellark Bakery in hand.

“We need to talk, Coriolanus.” You sighed, picking at your nails.

You're afraid that after you tell him your discovery that he'll leave and never come back.

Coryo's brow furrowed with worry. You haven't called him Coriolanus since the day you first met him. Something's wrong.

Setting the bags he was carrying down, he went over to your side. He pulled you up from your seat on an old wooden rocker, only to sit down and pull you onto his lap. Lightly threading his fingers into your hair, he asked, “What's wrong, little dove?”

“I'm pregnant, Coryo.” You nervously revealed, dropping your head in shame.

“Yea?” Coryo asked, gently tipping your chin up; making you look into his icy eyes. Icy blue eyes that are filled with only joy and pride. “We’re having a baby?”

“Yea.” You confirm.

“I promise, I'll take care of both of you.” Your peacekeeper vowed, protectively placing one of his large hands over your stomach. He pressed his lips against yours in a soft, chaste kiss. Pulling away, he leaned his forehead against yours and asked, “Does the Covey know?”

“No. I wanted to wait to tell them.”

“Why? Are you afraid of what they'll say?” Coryo asked, genuine concern flooding his baby blues.

“I doubt they'll be happy about another mouth to feed.” You sighed. You could already hear your family's fake congratulations in your head. You know full well that they'll be disappointed about this. It's just not the ideal timing.

Coryo tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “Don't worry, little dove. We'll figure it out.” Your boyfriend assured you with a thin smile.

Coryo didn't want you performing with the Covey anymore. He claimed that the stress of it would be bad for the baby. So, you obliged him and made a lame excuse about a headache in order to be a spectator in the crowd.

You're sitting at a table against the wall with Sejanus and Coryo. The boys are drinking jars of shine while you're stuck drinking nothing- since shine's bad for pregnancy and the Hobb doesn't have anything else for drinking. Lucy Gray had just started singing her debut of a new song whenever Sejanus excused himself and took off to the bar, where Billy Taupe was. It looked like he was waiting for him too.

“You might want to keep an eye on that. Billy's bad news, Coryo.” You told your boyfriend, subtly gesturing to where Sejanus and Billy Taupe were.

Unknown to you, Coryo's been keeping an eye on it. That he even sent a jabberjay to the Capitol with Sejanus' dumb rebel plans on it so that Strabo Plinth could be made aware of the bullshit his son's up to; buy him a discharge and a one-way ticket back to the Capitol.

“I'll follow him; check it out.” Coryo told you, standing up. “Stay here, I'll only be a minute, little dove.” Coryo kissed your cheek before slithering thru the crowd to follow Sejanus and Billy Taupe as they ventured to a back room.

After a while, you got concerned and decided to find out what was going on. So, you went down the back hallway and into the room you saw Coryo slip into. Which was a mistake considering you walked right into a dicey situation.

You saw a small pile of guns splayed out with Sejanus, Billy Taupe, Spruce, and Coryo all in a corner of the room, exchanging barbs.

“Who's she?” Spruce asked, pointing to you with a gun.

Looking over his shoulder, Coryo gritted his teeth and told you, “Baby, I told you to wait for me out there.” He grabbed your wrist and shoved you behind him, while telling Spruce, “She's my girl.”

But at the same time Billy Taupe said, “Y/N Scarlett's Covey, her and her peacekeeper friends are coming with us.”

“Since when, Billy?” Asked the shrill voice that belonged to the district shrew, Mayfair Lipp.

Oh shit…

Mayfair entered from the other side of the room, making her presence known when she heard her pathetic accordion player boyfriend was planning on taking a Covey girl and some peacekeepers somewhere.

Somewhere her daddy wouldn't approve of.

“What's going on?” The redhead asked.

Looking at his girl, who he was trying to shake in favor of making up with Lucy Gray, Billy said, “I'll explain later, Mayfair. Just let it go.”

“No, I won't let it go, Billy. I want to know what you're planning with these guns.”

“Oh my God, Coryo, I'm so sorry. I swear, I didn't mean to bring you into this mess.” Sejanus cried.

“You should be sorry. You've pulled not just me, but the mother of my child into your stupid bullshit.” Coryo angrily shouted. He was so pissed that he could strangle Sejanus for his stupidity.

“I'm so sorry, I didn't know.” Blubbered the dark haired peacekeeper.

“Wait a minute, I know exactly who the two of you are.” Mayfair’s beady eyes lit up. Pointing at Coryo, she said, “You were Lucy Gray Baird’s Capitol mentor during the games.” Pointing to you, she sniggered, “And you're her cousin.”

You and Coryo exchanged worried looks. Right now, both of you wished you'd stayed outside in the main bar room of the Hobb.

“Well, wouldn't my daddy like to know that you're all planning on running away.” Mayfair's voice rang out, all smug and evil sounding.

“She won't say anything.” Billy Taupe assured everyone. Looking at his girlfriend, he asked, “Won't you?”

“Oh, why don't you ask her if I'm bluffing.” Mayfair pointed to you. “Did your cousin like her trip to the Capitol? Maybe you and your peacekeeper traitor boyfriend will like your trip to the hanging tree.” Mayfair said before pivoting on her heel and making to leave. To tell her father, Mayor Lipp, about what she's seen and overheard.

But before she got very far, Coryo reached for one of the rifles and shot her in the back, causing her to fall down.

Dead.

Your eyes widened, but you knew why he did it. He did it to protect you and the baby.

“What did you just do?! Why did you do that for?!” Billy Taupe shouted at Coryo while Sejanus was just balling his eyes out.

“He did what he had to, she was gonna talk.” Spruce said, siding with Coryo.

“Oh, I'm not going down for this.” Billy frantically said, most likely figuring that he'd be the first suspect since he was Mayfair's man. Grabbing a gun, he pointed it at you and Coriolanus.

He never got a shot off cause Spruce got him first. Tossing his gun in the pile and motioning for Coryo to do the same, he told your boyfriend, “I'll get rid of the guns.”

Coriolanus nodded, only to turn to you and cup your cheeks. “Go back out there and find some friends to talk to as an alibi.” Kissing you, he swore, “I'll keep you and our baby safe, I promise, my little dove.”

“I know you will.” You replied, softly wrapping your hands around his wrists and squeezing them.

Sejanus was crying to bad that he was hunched over, having a panic attack. You and Coryo shared a silent look. Without words, you told him to help his friends and he agreed that he word.

After parting from each other, you went out to the main bar room of the Hobb while Coryo calmed down his best friend and assured Sejanus that they're brothers; that he'll protect him.

Sadly, Coryo couldn't protect Sejanus from being marked a rebel spy and a traitor; from the noose of the hanging tree. The death of his friend hit him hard. Sejanus was hanged alongside Spruce and his sister, Lil.

Coryo had received a spot in an elite officer's training program in 2; he wanted you to go along with him. Apparently officers were allowed to have women. Coriolanus himself was the son of General Crassus Snow. You agreed to go with him, but told him that you suspect that Spruce might've told Lucy Gray about what happened.

When he asked you why, you told him that Lucy Gray made a remark about how you couldn't trust Coryo because men like him need to tie up loose ends in order to get what they want. That if he's able to find the guns hidden at the cabin he'll get rid of her; tie up his loose end so that he'll be free to ran back to the Capitol.

Lucy Gray had told you that in warning, after stumbling upon Spruce hiding the guns while out hiking to help clear her head and get her muses energized. But, you didn't take her warning. In fact, you did the opposite of that warning; told Coryo all about it.

When he asked where your cousin was so that he could talk to her about what she knew, you never would've thought in your wildest dreams that he'd kill her to shut her up. To ensure that he'd be able to bring you with him to District 2.

So, you told him that Lucy Gray was hiding out at the lakeside cabin because she was afraid of Mayor Lipp (since he's been harassing her ever since his daughter's death).

No, how would you know that by telling your boyfriend where to find your cousin that you're signing her death warrant.

The day of your departure arrives and you don't have many things to bring. Just a single, small carpet bag filled with a handful of dresses. You're wearing one of your nicest dresses paired with the orange scarf Coryo gave you. And when Coryo saw you step onto the train platform, he couldn't help but to run over to you and wrap his arms around you.

Kissing you, he smiled, “You look beautiful, my darling.”

“You look quite handsome yourself.” You told him, since he did look stunning in his dress uniform. Honestly, the hat did things for you.

“I'm glad you think so.” He smirked. Breaking your embrace, he took your hand in his and said, “Come on, we need to be sent off by Commander Hoff.”

“Okay.” You nod, despite feeling uneasy about revealing your relationship to his former commander.

After a couple of minutes walking along the platform, you spotted Commander Hoff. He was standing by the train, waiting for Coriolanus. Upon seeing him, Coryo greeted him with a salute. You did a slight curtsey, out of respect.

“There’s been a slight change of plans. You and your girl will be going to the Capitol instead.” Commander Hoff informed the two of you. “You make us proud, Snow.” He said before walking off.

“The Capitol…” You trailed off in awe.

A large grin split Coryo's face from ear to ear as he picked you up and spun you around. “We're going home, baby. We're going home.”

As you sat with Coryo on a train bound for the Capitol your family was at home, sulking over your sudden decision to leave. One that they didn't approve of. One that they thought Lucy Gray would be able to talk you out of if she was around. They blamed the mayor for her absence

And while, yes, her fear of Mayor Lipp made Lucy Gray hide out in the cabin, it was Coriolanus Snow that truly made her disappear when he showed up at the cabin, peacekeeper issued pistol in hand. Poor thing was at her patch of Katniss, checking to see if they were ready to pick when he snuck up behind her and shot her point blank in the head.

He dumped her and the guns that he found hidden under the floorboards, after tearing the entire cabin apart, in the lake.

You'd never know that he committed not one but two murders to keep you safe, to keep your unborn baby safe. Because to Coryo you're as precious as spun glass and he'll do anything to protect you. Anything or anybody he sees as a threat to you and the baby he'll deal with.

And he knew that Lucy Gray was dangerous. She didn't trust him; might try to turn you against him. The thing about spun glass that it can break if not handled with care. Coryo will never let anyone break you, so Lucy Gray had to go.

He knew that your cousin saw right thru his facade. Could see him for the true snake he was. And he couldn't have her ruining everything for the two of you.

But you'll never know any of that. All you'll know is the safety of the Capitol and a loving husband that'll spoil you and your baby rotten.

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simon-sehs · 2 months

Text

due (18+) pt 3

tags / cw: f!reader, virgin!reader, inexperienced!reader, sexually repressed!reader, smut, pining, flirting, inappropriate conduct, seduction, mind games, theft, insults, sexual tension, possessive!simon, jealous!simon, manipulative!reader, injury mention, dirty talk, virginity kink, grinding, dry humping, come marking, oral sex, pussy eating, fingering, vaginal sex, creampie

His name was Carter.

The two of you talked once or twice, struck up a decent conversation here and there, but didn’t really see each other much outside of the mess hall during meals. You at first thought of calling up your ex, Billy, but that was too obvious, and also: Fuck. That.

No, Carter would do nicely.

He was pretty: black hair, green eyes, a sweet, warm smile.

Part of you knew you should feel bad for using him to get back at Ghost, but you took solace in the fact that he was only one part of your plan. After all, it was your gracious Lieutenant who taught you not to put all your eggs in one basket when it came to strategies.

You found yourself back in the mess hall, only a couple hours later. Your sleep had been small and futile, but you found yourself refreshed regardless. Whether it was from the excitement of your budding plan, or the action you had received last night, you weren’t sure. It didn’t matter.

You stood near the door, and glanced around, your eyes settling on a familiar figure. Bingo. You began walking over to him, not bothering to look for Ghost. You couldn’t, you had to be subtle, or this entire operation would crumble before it even left the ground.

Carter glanced up as you sat down across from him with a warm smile. “Hi. Mind if I join you?”

He raised an eyebrow and nodded. “Yeah, help yourself, Sergeant.”

You sat down with your cup of coffee, your eyes glancing at his tray of food briefly before meeting his gaze. “Been a while. How’ve you been?”

“Ah, I’m fine. Nothing really worth talking about. Dislocated my knee a week ago. You?”

Time to put on a show.

You let your face fall slightly. “I, uh… I’ve been better. Just… stressed, about stuff.”

Carter nodded sympathetically. “Understandable. I’m here to talk if needed, my husband says I’m great at listening and giving advice.”

You paused. Husband? Oh.

You quickly composed yourself. “Really? How long have you two been together? If you… don’t mind sharing…”

Carter’s face lit up. “Ah, six years, now. High school sweethearts, actually. Married for three. What about you?”

This threw a slight wrench in your plans, but this could work.

“Uhh, well… it’s… complicated…”

“Mm, well, I hope it gets un-complicated for you.”

Meanwhile, across the room…

Ghost watched the two of you have a conversation. A fascinating conversation, by the looks of it. To say he was jealous was an understatement. Hell, you hadn’t even looked at him once this whole morning. Did you even know he was there? Or was this some sort of petty revenge for what he said last night?

He took a sip of his tea, wondering if he should risk getting closer to listen to the two of you. He ultimately decided against it, content with watching…

For now.

You smiled at Carter. “Thanks, I appreciate that.” You took a drink of coffee. “I… have a weird request, actually. Feel free to say no.”

“Weird, eh? Now I got to hear it, Sarge.”

“I, uh, could really use a hug…”

Carter’s eyebrows raised. “Hmm, well, I wasn’t really expecting that, but I don’t see why not.” He paused. “You’re, uh… not going to slap a note on my back that says ‘kick me’ or anything, right?”

You let out a laugh. A good, genuine laugh that reached Ghost’s ears.

“No, no… I promise. Just a hug.”

Carter nodded and stood from his seat. Then, so did you. The both of you met halfway around the table, and embraced each other. Ghost set his mug down on his table with a little more force than intended, gaze burning a hole through the both of you.

You pulled back with a smile, and lightly squeezed Carter’s shoulder.

Ghost grit his teeth.

“Thank you, Carter. I feel a lot better, already…” You said.

“No problem.”

The both of you sat back down, and talked a bit more. You eventually excused yourself after finishing your cup of coffee.

It was time for the next order of business.

You entered an empty training room and got everything set up. When it came to throwing knives, you were alright. You could use a bit of polishing when it came to that skill, and you were thankful that that would come into play, today. Now, you just had to wait for him to show up.

There was no way in hell Ghost wouldn’t follow you in after your performance with Carter…

You picked up one of the knives and twirled it in your fingers. To get this to work, you’d have to appear just a little more incompetent than usual. You got into an… adequate stance and lazily threw the knife at the wall target. It missed the entire thing.

Alright, let’s not appear that incompetent…

You picked up another knife as you heard the door open behind you. You didn’t bother to turn and look… you didn’t need to. You adjusted your wrist and threw. Outermost circle.

“Want some help?”

You tensed slightly as Ghost’s breath hit your neck. “No, I’m good.”

He chuckled. “You sure?”

You watched as he slowly picked up three knives, pretending to examine them in his hands. He turned towards the target, and threw one. Bullseye. Another. Bullseye. Then the last. Bullseye.

You glanced away, trying to mentally beat your growing arousal to a pulp. Focus.

He turned to face you once more, eyes crinkling as he smirked beneath the mask.

You rolled your eyes. “Well, you obviously don’t need the practice, and I don’t need your help. You can go, now.” You said, knowing fully well that he wasn’t going to leave.

“Nah. Think I’ll stick around, evaluate your progress.”

Excellent…

You sighed and got into position once more. The incorrect stance. You knew better, of course, but he didn’t know that. His scrutinizing gaze along your form burned into your skin, but you proceeded to throw the knife. Outermost circle.

You picked up another, ignoring Ghost all the while. Stance. Throw… Outermost circle. You were surprised how quickly it took for him to fold.

“Your stance is wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

He huffed. “You daft? The way you’re standing, you’ll never hit the center if your stance is fucked.”

He got closer to you, putting his hands on your hips and adjusting you. His feet kicked at yours, prodding them into a different position. You bit your cheeks in an effort to not grin. Time for the next part.

Your movements were subtle, so agonizingly minuscule, as he focused on fixing your form. You slowly leaned into his touch, your back melting into his chest, and he was none the wiser.

“There. Now throw.”

You did, the knife hitting a ring closer to the center. You carefully fidgeted in his grasp, undoing his work.

Ghost groaned. “What are you doin’? You just undid your stance.”

His movements were a bit rougher as he manhandled you back into place. The perfect excuse to… accidentally… bump back against his groin. He froze, and you could hear his breath hitch. But only for a second, and then he continued his task as if nothing happened.

He jostled you forward a bit, making you ‘lose’ your balance slightly and bump back against him once more.

“Dammit, stop that.” He hissed.

“Me? You’re the one throwing me around!”

“Don’t be dramatic and stay still like a good girl.”

“Why, so you can keep ‘accidentally rubbing’ up against me?” You say, turning it around on him.

He scoffed and leaned forward, his breath hot on your ear. “You’d enjoy that, wouldn’t you? Having me rutt against you like a damn dog...”

“You are a damn dog.”

“Mmm, is that so?” He lowered his head and started kissing your neck, pulling you flush against him. “Then you won’t mind if I do…”

You let out a shaky breath, trying not to smile with giddy glee. “There’s a camera in here, too.”

“No shit.” He grabbed your hips and started circling them along his—now prominent—bulge.

He then braced one of his arms along your ribs, under your breasts, to keep you locked against him, while his lips continued leaving wet kisses on your throat.

You let him grind against you for a bit, his fingers tightening around your skin as he got closer to his peak, his grunts and groans increasing. You suppressed an evil grin before sighing. “Alright, I’m getting bored.”

He huffed and puffed. “Sh-shut up, I’m getting close…”

“That’s too bad…” You pulled away, and out of his tight grip.

For a second, the intensity of his glare had you internally sweating, and wondering if he was going to attempt to continue, but he just clenched his jaw.

And stared, of course.

“Fuckin’ tease…”

“Getting déjà vu, Lieutenant? I know I am…” You walked over to the wall targets and began pulling the knives out.

“Don’t pull that, with me. I made you see stars twice last night.”

You ignored him and proceeded to put the knives away. Ghost kept glaring, sulking over his lost orgasm.

You sighed and faced him. “Well, if you want to make yourself useful, I guess we could spar.”

Ghost rolled his eyes. “I’m still recovering from your fuckup.”

“Hm, but you seemed fine manhandling me last night…”

He stared at you, weighing the options in his head. “Fine. I only need one good arm to beat your ass, anyway. But if you deliberately harm my shoulder, you will regret it.”

“Give it a rest, LT, I’m not going to hit your precious shoulder…” You crossed your arms and watched as he unzipped his jacket, and threw it at you.

You barely caught it in time and narrowed your eyes at him, trying to ignore the sight of his beefy arms in the—wow, black again, what a surprise—t-shirt he wore. You noticed the bandage on his lower forearm was now gone. You sighed and walked towards the nearest bench.

You were not expecting him to just hand you his jacket outright, but you didn’t care. If anything, he just saved you a step. How kind of him…

Your hand deftly slipped into the left pocket. The security camera wouldn’t catch this angle. Even if it did, it would be too late for Ghost to even think to check the footage later. No, by then, things would have played out as hoped. They had to.

Your fingers curled around the lighter, and you slowly pulled it out, switching it to a pocket on your leggings; the ones you specifically picked out for today. Why? Pockets with zippers. Can’t risk his precious lighter falling out during the sparring session, after all…

And then you tossed his jacket onto the bench, before joining him on the mat.

His arms were crossed. “You didn’t have to go on a damn journey to set it down, the floor would have been fine.”

“Then why throw it at me?” You raised an eyebrow.

He smirked. “Because it’s funny.”

“Right…”

“Ready to get your ass kicked?”

You sighed inwardly. You really weren’t, to be honest, but the proposition to spar was only an excuse to get him out of his damn jacket.

“Don’t get cocky, now. You’re at a disadvantage, remember?”

But it didn’t matter, he was right…

He only needed one good arm.

•••

Ding!

Your gaze left the page of your book and landed on the lit-up screen beside your thigh. You set the book in your lap and picked up the phone. One new message from ‘Ghostie’.

You opened it.

Ghostie: Hey. Have you seen my lighter?

You smirked to yourself. Damn, already? You weren’t expecting him to reach out to you about his missing lighter so soon. If anything, you thought he wouldn’t catch on to your possible involvement until one or two more days after.

You: found a lighter in the hallway earlier. what color is it?

Ghostie: Hey that’s mine. Bring it to my office ASAP.

You: tell me the color! i’m not giving anything until you confirm.

Ghostie: Red.

You: fine you can have it back

You: but in the morning

You: i’m in jamas and busy reading.

Ghostie: Bloody hell. Fine, I’ll stop by.

You chuckled to yourself and set the phone down, returning to your book. But the words blurred together as you excitedly waited for him to stop by. There was no guarantee that things would escalate tonight, but all the buildup, the planning… it would at least be another stepping stone.

A minute later, there was a knock on the door.

“Come in.” You called out.

The door opened, and there he was. He shut the door behind him and walked over to you.

“Alright, give.” He said holding out his hand.

You rolled your eyes. “Hello to you, too, Lieutenant.”

You leaned over the bed, grabbing your leggings off of the floor and unzipping the pocket, pulling the lighter out and handing it to him. “You should keep better track of your stuff, LT.”

“Quiet.” He pocketed the lighter, watching as you dropped your pants to the floor and laid back down on your bed, book still in your lap.

Then it dawned on him, just how intimate this situation… felt. Standing in the sanctity of your room, you dressed in your pajama shirt and shorts, the lamp lighting low and warm, and the candle on the nightstand filling the room with the sweet scent of vanilla.

His gaze lingered on your bare legs, up your body, to your midriff. Your shirt was slightly hiked up your stomach, but you didn’t seem to mind.

You cleared your throat. “Did you need something else?”

Was that a trick question? He needed you. Needed to rip those stupid little shorts off, stuff your virgin hole and make you come over, and over, and—

“No. What are you reading?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “A book.”

He huffed and looked away. “Not leaving until you tell me.”

“…Fine… It’s a romance novel: ‘Reverie’ by Stephanie Fenderson.”

“Yeah? What’s it about?” He found himself intrigued.

“Two nobles from rival houses start a forbidden love affair. Think… ‘Romeo and Juliet’, but raunchier… and with actual adults, of course.”

“Hmm. How raunchy?”

Perfect.

You fake a scoff. “I’m not telling you.”

“I’ll find out eventually. Rather hear it from your pretty lips.”

You meet his gaze. “Well… there’s this… one scene… They’re at the same fancy ball, and sneak off to a room to… have fun.”

You sit up on the bed, crossing your legs as you set the book on your nightstand. Ghost can’t help but notice the small opening of the shorts along your inner thigh, and his teeth clenched. It was just the tiniest of peeks, but there was no mistaking the sight of black, lacy panties. He felt his cock twitch.

“Specifics.” He says.

“Hmph. Sure. So, they’re getting busy, having a great time. Pretty standard, vanilla. But then they almost get caught. The man, Fredrick, hides underneath the woman, Constance’s, gown. It’s one of those… hoop skirt dresses, or whatever…”

You scratch your chin. “The guy who interrupted them is this important dude who wants to marry her. Fredrick gets jealous of the guy’s attempts to court her, so… he starts eating her out while she tries to be polite to her suitor, and he’s none the wiser.”

Despite the fact that the two of were intimate the night before, you still found yourself blushing as you recounted the smutty novel.

He carefully walked over to your bed and sat beside you, laying his elbows on his thighs in an effort to conceal his growing boner. “Interesting… maybe I’ll have to borrow it from you, sometime.”

“Mm, I don’t think so. Your big hands would likely ruin the spine.”

He leaned in closer. “These big hands took good care of your pussy last night. Or did you forget?”

Heat pooled in your abdomen. “I didn’t. But it doesn’t matter in the long run, I have plans beyond you…”

His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

You looked at him incredulously. “Huh. It sounds like you’re the one forgetting about last night. Do you not remember what I said about finding someone else?”

His blood ran cold, and his jaw clenched. “You… you wouldn’t. I told you, your virginity is mi—“

You tilted your head. “You also said to forget about the favor. That you forgive me.”

He breathed deeply. “I was being sarcastic. I didn’t expect you to be that dense…”

“Oh, well. I guess you’ll be getting sloppy seconds, Mr. ‘I’m a Patient Man’.”

The seconds ticked by in silence. You watched in his brown eyes as he went through a journey of emotions. It was so, so, satisfying. But this wasn’t even the end, or the best part, for that matter.

“Now, are you going to leave, Lieutenant? I really should get some sleep…”

You watched in real time as the last of his resolve snapped, and he seemed to come to terms with something. “…No.”

Yes…

You leaned in. “No?”

“You want a dick that badly? Fine, you greedy girl, I’ll give you one…” He seethed.

And there it is… I win.

He continued. “You’re not going to anyone else. I’m gonna fuck the very notion of that out of your daft head.”

You shook your head. “You’re not thinking clearly. You shouldn’t feel pressured into this—“

“Oh, shut up. You? Pressure me?” He laughed bitterly. “I’ve wanted this for months, and I’m not letting some stupid motherfucker get his hands on you first.”

Time for the pièce de résistance…

You gingerly placed a hand on his warm, toned thigh. “Simon…” You say softly, so sweetly. “Are you sure?”

You gasped as he pushed you back onto your bed, your head hitting the pillow.

He crawled on top of you, his breathing heavy and labored. He stared down at you, his gaze making you feel like you were trapped beneath a predator ready to make their kill. You waited for something, anything, but then realized…

He was calming himself down.

It would be easy—so easy—to just take you without mercy, without care, but he knew better. As much as you were getting on his fucking nerves, he was adamant on making sure your first time was great. No, more than great. Indescribable.

He finally chuckled, lifting his balaclava to reveal his mouth and nose.

“What’s so funny?” You asked.

“Have you ever been kissed? That sleazebag, Billy, did he ever kiss you?”

You sighed. “Yeah, unfortunately.”

“A shame. But I’m here now, we can pretend I’m your first kiss…”

“That’s not how it—mmh!”

His lips smothered yours, and you started blushing; the realization that this man had ate you out the night before, but never even gave you a proper kiss, washing over you. You probably would have laughed, if your mouth wasn’t busy.

He was a good kisser, his lips rough but plump. You felt disappointment, realizing that all the times you kissed Billy, it was nothing like this. That boy had no idea what he was doing.

Not like Ghost, and you felt yourself getting soaked.

He moaned before pulling away to gaze into your eyes. “Now, are you sure you want this?”

“Ah, now you’re being considerate?”

“Of course I am, love. Want to hear you say it, out loud.”

“You know how I feel, but fine. I want you, Simon, I need you…” You grabbed his hand and slipped it through the leg of your shorts, his fingers grazing along your wet folds, making him moan.

You made a silent prayer, hoping that your lack of experience wouldn’t shine through too much as you prepped yourself for the ultimate challenge: dirty talk.

“Feel that?” You whispered. “All for you…”

So simple, so small. But you knew it would resonate with his infatuation towards you, and the jealousy you had carefully built up from that morning. You watched him breathe deeply.

“Yes… all mine…” He continued staring into your eyes, his dark and heavy. “No one can get you wet like me… not Billy. Not that dickhead in the mess hall. Not those filthy little books you read… Me.”

“Are you getting jealous over my reading materi—ah!”

He swiped his fingers around your entrance, gathering your wetness. “You ever taste yourself, love?”

You could feel a blush forming. “I, uh… sometimes…”

He chuckled. “No need to be embarrassed…”

He pulled his fingers out of your shorts, his other hand delicately moving your chin to part your lips. Then, his wet fingers entered your mouth, and you instinctively wrapped your lips around them, letting your tongue lick and taste them.

Like before—during your experimenting—the taste was pleasant, but not overwhelming. Nothing in particular came to mind when trying to compare it to other… flavors, other than… sweet? Maybe?

You snapped out of your daze as his fingers started moving, in and out of your mouth. They were now clean of you, but it seemed he wasn’t ready to take them out just yet. So, you continued to lick, to suck.

The look in his eyes confirmed your suspicions, he was imagining something better than fingers in your warm mouth. He groaned and then took them out with a soft pop, his hands now moving to undo his jeans.

Oh, finally. Yes…

He took them off with ease, revealing basic white boxers. His shirt? Well…

Ghost must have forgotten about the state of his shoulder amidst his horniness, a hiss leaving his mouth as he attempted to lift the hem with his bad arm. You immediately sat up. “Let me…”

You expected him to push you back down, allow his stubbornness to take over…

But he didn’t.

He let you carefully begin to take the shirt off, being mindful of the bandage still present on his shoulder. You lifted it past his head, fingers clutching onto the warm fabric as you oggled his bare muscles. He grabbed the shirt from your hands and tossed it onto the floor.

“Like what you see?”

You ignored him, eye-fucking him without a sliver of shame. You grinned.

He laughed softly, gently lowering you back down, and crawling back up your body to look over you. “Oh, yeah. You do…”

You palmed him through his boxer shorts, earning a hiss and then a groan. You had wanted this since last night, knowing he had been touching himself while pleasuring you…

“Ahh, what are you doing, love?”

“Want to… uh… help you…”

He gingerly took your wrist in his hand. “Mm, next time. Yeah, next time, I’ll teach ya how to please a man properly. Me, I mean. It’s not like you’ll be sleepin’ with other men after this…”

“Is that so?” You smirked, your expression waning as he made you moan by grinding against your clothed pussy.

He ignored your bait. “Nnf, damn… I’m gonna treat you so well, sweetheart. That way, I’ll be able to punish you after for ruining my fun earlier.”

Excitement bubbled up inside you. “Heh, yeah? How?”

“Mmm… oh yeah… I think I’ll continue what I was doing earlier. Hump you like a toy, all over… You won’t be allowed to come at all.”

Your eyes widen. “What?”

“You heard me. Maybe I’ll let you finish after I’m spent, but that depends on how good you are, hmm?” He leaned in. “All the meanwhile, I’ll paint allll of you pretty in white…”

Holy shit. “Simon…” You whine.

“So needy, so fuckin’ desperate. I give you two orgasms last night and you’re already addicted. Be a good girl, and you’ll get what you want.”

You whimper and nod.

He grasped your hips and grinded you up and down his clothed bulge. “Fuck… yeah… feels better than before… soak through those shorts and my boxers, love, ruin them…”

“Unnnhh…” You lazily rutted against him, the friction feeling lovely but not enough. “Simon… I need more…”

“Poor girl, you achin’ down there?”

“Mhmm…”

He put a hand on your face, his large fingers caressing your cheek bones. “I’ll take good care of you, love. I promise.” He said softly, the weight of his words making your heart ache as well.

He slowly pulled back to take your shorts off, his grin widening as he got a proper look at your underwear. Pretty black lace, almost too small to properly cover your leaking cunt. He couldn’t help himself, gripping your hips and grinding against you once more.

He shivered. Your underwear had completely soaked through.

“Simon.” You whined once more.

He grunted in response, tentatively pulling back again to remove the lace. However, you didn’t crook your knees in time to help, making him rip the underwear in half.

“Shit, sorry, love. My bad...” He said sheepishly, and then held them up, raising an eyebrow at you. “But… seems like you won’t need them anymore. A good ‘lil keepsake for me…”

You huffed.

He didn’t spare a glance at your bare sex. Not yet. He dropped the ruined underwear. His fingers curled into your shirt and he started lifting it, his nails softly scratching along your skin. Then, he paused.

“Mm. No bra?”

“Not tonight, no. They can be uncomfortable to sleep in.” You said nonchalantly.

“Uncomfortable… hm… but you’ll wear panties that barely cover your cunt…”

Uhh…

Thankfully, he didn’t seem to care or look more into it. He shook his head and continued taking the shirt off. “Not like I’m complaining, mind you. But I do want to see the matching bra, sometime. There’s no way you don’t have one.”

You smirked. “Alright, noted.”

He threw the shirt aside and leaned back to admire your naked form. “How lovely… better than I imagined…”

His hands grasped your breasts, three of his fingers still slightly cold and moist from being in your mouth. You shivered with a moan. “So pretty, so soft… can’t wait to deflower you.”

“Technically, after last night—“

“Oh, don’t go there. I don’t care about the technicalities of last night. You’ve never been dicked down, and that’s what I’m referring to. Now, be a good girl and shush…”

Ghost leaned back again, and finally pulled his boxers off. You couldn’t hold back the moan that left your mouth at the sight of his dick, leaking with pre-come. He leaned forward again, resting his member on your clit.

“See that, pretty girl?” He slowly stroked himself against your folds. “That’s what a cock looks like.”

You had to resist the urge to face palm yourself. “Jesus, Simon, I know what a dick looks like.”

“No, you don’t know what mine looks like. Get well acquainted, you’re gonna be seeing it a lot.” He paused and peered down once more. “Aha, damn, you’re soaking your bed, love. Pretty pussy is working so hard, preparing itself just for me…”

He pulled his lower body away and inserted a finger. You moaned, he groaned. He began pumping it in and out, making your pussy sing with your slickness.

“Shit, I think… think you’re wetter than last night. Good…”

You smirked at him. “Yeah, the book I was reading is pretty spicy…”

“Shut up, or I’m burnin’ the damn thing.” He took his finger out, and you began to regret your teasing.

Before you could beg and plead your case for more, he stuffed his face against your pussy and started lapping at it.

“Gahh, Simon, not again, I want you inside—“

“Quiet,” he growled, “I know what I’m doing. Ya need to be ready for me…”

You pouted but didn’t say anything more, only opening your mouth to moan softly as he licked and sucked. But then, his finger entered you once more, and he proceeded to stimulate you with both his hand and mouth.

Oh, this is new.

You clutched the bed sheets, trying to keep still and let him do his thing, lest he chastise you again like last night.

“Tell me when you’re close…” He breathed out, inserting another finger.

“O-okay… god, Simon, ohhh…”

“Mhmm…” He mumbled, still licking and fingering you.

You noticed his whole body moving in junction with his head and fingers, and you peered downward. You saw him dragging his weeping cock along your bedsheets, the sight making you whimper and clench around his fingers.

“Simon… I’m gonna come…”

“Mm, good girl. Thank you for telling me.” He stopped all movements and pulled away.

“H-hey! What are you doing?”

“What you did to me, earlier. Sucks, doesn’t it? But don’t worry, you’ll get to come…” He leaned in and started kissing your neck. “You smell so good… you always smell good… drives me fuckin’ crazy…”

“God, Simon, please, I want to come…”

Ghost licked along your neck. “Don’t worry, love, you will. I’ll let you come around my dick, how’s that?”

“Please…”

“Good girl… such a good girl…” He cooed.

He leaned back and adjusted his position, lining himself up at your weeping sex.

“Now, I want you to hold onto me. This might hurt, sweetheart…”

You did as he requested, and that’s when he started entering you.

You winced and bit your lip, the stretch feeling a bit more painful than you anticipated. Suck it up, you’ve taken bullets...

He slowly eased his way in, your hole trying to push him out, despite it having done so much prep beforehand to welcome him with open arms. He leaned in closer and caressed a cheek.

“Relax, love. Loosen those muscles, breathe deeply… I got you.” He whispered.

His words helped alone, making you sigh with relief as you steered focus towards the new wave of arousal washing over your body. Something about the way he spoke softly just never failed to do wonders for you.

But then you realized he wasn’t moving anymore. You looked down in confusion and saw him already all the way in, to the hilt. Oh.

He also glanced down, admiring the joining of your bodies as he held your legs up, placing your ankles on his shoulders. “Fuck, look at that… what a pretty sight. Feels even better inside…”

Then, he started moving. His thrusts were slow and gentle, caring. But the sensation was still deliciously overwhelming; you could feel his cock rubbing against your soft, virgin walls, tight and pulsing around him.

“God, you don’t… understand how hard it is… to hold myself back… right now…” He grit out.

“D-don’t hold back, Simon…”

He grunted. “Don’t be saying shit like that. You’ll get it in the future, but for now, I’m keeping it simple, sweetheart.”

He held onto your thighs and squeezed hard, grounding himself as he maintained a sweet and slow pace, one that gradually increased in speed, if only by a minuscule difference. His eyes raked up and down your body, soaking in every reaction to his ministrations.

“Talk to me, lovie. Tell me how it feels…”

“Uuuuhhhn, feels… good…” You croaked out.

“Good? Just good?”

You groaned. “It feels amazing, don’t stop…”

“That right? Tell me, you still think you would have done well with someone else for your first time?”

“Uffff, mmm…”

He chuckled. “Can’t even think properly, can you? So cock-drunk…”

Then he stopped and pulled out.

“Sim—“

“On your stomach.”

You blushed, but rushed to do as he said, the side of your face hitting the pillow. He grabbed your hips and tilted them upwards, his knee pushing one of your legs open aside. “There we go…” You couldn’t see much from this angle, but the excitement in his voice was palpable.

He slowly lowered himself on top of you, his chest connecting with your back. He wasn’t squishing you, not completely, but enough to make his presence felt. Then, he entered you once more, stuffing his face into your neck.

“Mmmh… make you feel all of me… every inch of my skin… make sure you memorize it. It’s okay if you forget, though, I’ll happily remind you…” He started moving, his pace still casual and languid.

“Can’t… can’t wait to ruin you… turn you into a fuckin’ degenerate… heh, unless… you already are, and we just don’t know it, yet…”

He adjusted one of his legs, the angle of his hips making him reach deeper, and you whimper. “Ohh, god, oh…”

Ghost then sped up, reaching a faster rhythm that would satisfy you, but wouldn’t be too much.

You whimpered. “G-gonna…”

“Gonna come, baby? Good… milk my cock, wanna feel that cunt thank me for taking your virginity…”

“Jesus…” You groaned loudly, your orgasm hitting you hard; your walls clamping around him like a vice, pulsating like a heartbeat.

“Fuuuuck…” He snarled into your ear, his fist digging into your pillow, beside your head. “Want me to fill you up?”

“Y-yes, please, yes…”

“‘Attagirl. Need to make sure this pussy learns who it belongs to…”

His movements slowed but got harder, and then eventually, halted, as he reached his climax. He groaned into your neck, filling you up with his seed. “Good… girl… take it… all…”

He stayed on top of you for a minute, your muscles starting to ache. “Simon… you’re squishing me…”

“Ah. Sorry…” He rolled off of you, laying beside you and pulling you into his arms. “You alright, love?”

You started blushing, still trying to catch your breath. “I-I’m fine. It was good… really good…” You smiled.

You expected a snarky, arrogant comment like usual, but he just smiled in response. “Good. I’m glad.”

He used a hand to caress your body, slowly trailing down to your pussy. His fingers delved into your hole, coating them in his come before pulling them out and rubbing it along your slit. “Yeah… this is all mine…”

He then licked his fingers and pulled you closer with a content grunt. “Mm. You should have listened to me. I always get what I want, and I told you this would happen.”

You laughed softly, leaning into him. “Oh, Simon… you think this was all a coincidence? Did you really think… you’re the only one who can fight dirty?” You cooed.

He stared at you, eyes wide, the realization that, perhaps—he had been thinking with his dick too much—dawning on him. You weren’t sure how he’d react, but mentally prepared for the possibility that he’d be pissed for getting beaten at his own game.

But instead… he grinned.

“You… That’s my fuckin’ girl… all mine...”

[part one] [part two] [part three]

taglist: @corvusmorte @oceanicexolorer @icouldntthinkofanythingclever

#simon riley #call of duty #cod #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #my writing

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ariesbilly · 2 years

Text

Dacre saying billy has anxiety is so real because I know when my anxiety ridden ass is going through a moment I get so irritable and cannot have anyone talking to me or being around me or annoying me when I’m tryna zen my way through it and I KNOW that’s how billys ass is. Finally some good representation

#it’s either that or I’m thrrowing up or sobbing #also billy teas 😂#this is the best and worst thing dacre could’ve ever said to me god bless

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enviedear · 5 months

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jackie and wilson — billy bonney

⤷ modern!billy au

tw— somehow this is 4.6k words. mentions of food and eating, talk of religion and bible verses, (i'm southern and was forced to go to church every sunday it reflects in the writing) smutty themes so, minors dni, 18+ only, kissing, fondling, skinny dipping, (they're in their undies) so horrifically fluffy

i can already tell this is going to become an ongoing series, so be sure to comment and lmk if you want more. also, this is influenced by my daily mantra

request

the summer heat feels like it's baking you as you traverse through the long grass of your farmland. birds call and screech in the trees lining the woods beside you. if you weren't so scared of walking the shortcut in the woods alone, your risk of sun poisoning may seem less apparent.

you grip the wicker basket in your hands tighter, eyes squinting to look for the lean farmhand-for-hire. in years past, you've been keen to take his place whenever your grandparents needed someone for an oddball job. working long hours with the older couple up until you graduated from the county high school. as the seasons changed, and you got older and busier, so did your grandparents. their work on their farm proved in dire need of help.

a simple fix—you. this summer, free from university and your internship, your parents elected you to spend the free time of your summer working on your loving grandparents' farm.

in the early days of the warm season, you managed pretty well on your own. you tended the vegetables and the fruits, took care of the chickens and sheep, and sowed the large fields with grain until sunset.

everything changed after an unfortunate incident with your grandpa's gargantuan baler. luckily, you were fine, but your pa's expensive baler was wrecked all to hell.

so here you were, now relegated to some pseudo farmer's daughter role, hand-delivering water and a full lunch to none other than billy bonney.

your grandparents say billy's nice enough, mannerly yet hushed. but you know there's more to it. at least if small town gossip is anything to believe, and here, it usually is.

everyone knows the crowd billy runs around with. he's also got a vile gang of friends. angry men with sly smirks who spend most of their free time loitering the town's local bar or gambling away their lives at lawrence murphy's corral. the type of men to carry a weapon at all times without any license, and quick to threaten to shoot with even the most minor infraction.

the knowledge was enough to have you hiding away from him every time your grandparents hired him for a job.

everytime that is, until now.

you knew with the way your pa sternly stared into your eyes that a complaint wouldn't be warranted. as your grandma instructed you to bring the farmhand some, "hearty lunch for his hard work," you came to terms with the fact that you had no right to argue.

not when you owe the old man a baler.

you finally reach the young man, covered in grime and leaning against his parked pickup, out of breath and sweltering. you try not to stare at the baler attached to the tractor, about twenty feet from his parked vehicle, your embarrassment over wrecking the last one still ever present.

his truck has its' doors wide open, blaring music through blown speakers. you try to avoid making direct eye contact with him, voice raised slightly to be heard over the folk song playing, "here. figure you're hungry."

lifting the tea towel from the top of the basket, you set it on his open truck bed. despite not looking up, you can see him hurry to turn his music down before sauntering over to you from the side of your gaze.

"thank you," his voice surprises you. it's gruff but gentle. "you kin to the old couple?"

you're not sure why, but you take offense to his question. sure you've ignored him, but you know that he knows who you are. you meet his stare, your tone dry in response, "i am."

he inclines his head toward the basket, ignoring your reply with a hum, "what'd ya' bring me, hon?"

your eyes roll unabashed at his endearment, "my grandma threw a bit of everything in there. i know there's some jambalaya— the last bit of our mud cake too."

"you're spoiling me, you tell her i said thank you," he pauses, peering down at you, "are you going to be bringin' me my lunch everyday?"

his question is innocuous but something in the way he says it makes your stomach drop. you shrug, "sure, i guess."

"i'd like that." he slips the words out before his hands dive into the basket, fishing out one of the water bottles.

you nod, confused by him, "yeah well, be careful. i guess i'll see you tomorrow."

at that you turn from him, walking your trail again to get back to the house. you fight the urge to look over your shoulder and catch a glimpse of him. some proof he's really there, that the interaction actually happened.

because despite the second-hand opinion you've held on him, billy bonney was unexpected. annoyingly so.

as you finish up your day, you can't help but think about the encounter with the dark-haired farmhand. you've known of him for years, sure, but you never expected much of him.

just another one of jesse evans’ rowdy boys.

shocking, that billy would be so different. or maybe, just better at hiding his depravity. you think back to his voice, rough around the edges, yet littered with tenderness. it’s not until you think back to his gentle smile that you realize, there’s a kindness that exudes from him, and it’s got you hook, line, and sinker.

you wonder if he's always been this way? you like to think he has. even if it is only a platitude for your undeniable crush.

in the following days, you continue to bring the farmhand his lunch, stopping to talk to him longer each noon. he's easy to talk to, apt to ask you about your day, or if you need anything. you can't exactly explain why, but you're drawn to him.

it's extra muggy as you pack up his lunch and make your way to him, breaking from his time on the baler to lay in the bed of his truck.

he doesn't take notice of you until your basket finds home right beside him, blasted speakers blaring yet another folk tune.

"hey there," he greets you with a grin, his white work shirt wrought with soil, the short sleeves haphazardly rolled, "you know i'm starting t'get used to this."

you smile back, feeling a warm sensation spreading through your body, "i'm sure you are."

billy takes a look in the lunch basket, grabbing out some water first to clear the dirt on his hands, "you wanna hang around for a bit?"

you hesitate for a moment, not sure if you should. not only do you have a long list of chores, you also still find a bit of nervousness around the young man.

but billy's been nice enough, and if he's anything like his friends you assume he would have shown it by now, "i guess i have some time."

billy nods, handing you a water and patting the free space beside him. you hop up, close enough that his side brushes yours.

the sensation sends shivers down your spine as you try to focus on conversation, pulling for anything you can say. for a moment, neither of you speaks, the only sound is coming from the music blasting from his speakers. an old rock song today, different. your eyes try to look anywhere but at him, taking in the vast expanse of farmland around you.

"must be nice to have all this land to yourself," billy says, breaking the silence.

you nod, grateful for his compliment, "it is. my grandparents have worked hard to keep it running."

"i can tell," billy says, taking a swig from his water bottle, "they got a good thing goin' here."

you agree, taking a sip from your own bottle. the sun beats down on your skin, making you feel sweaty and sticky. billy, on the other hand, seems used to it. he looks up at the sky, squinting against the sunlight.

"you know, i was thinking," billy says, steady voice breaking the silence again, "what would you say if i took you out sometime?"

your heart skips a beat, your mind going into overdrive. you never expected billy to ask you out, even more so that you’d be so willing to entertain the idea.

you hesitate for a moment before answering, "i don't know. i mean, i barely know you."

this is a half truth, you know him. only this version though, the sweet billy bonney who works on your family farm and takes his lunch breaks with you. you don't have any idea who he is outside of these moments.

at least not first hand. just second hand gossip. you wouldn’t even know which stories are real or fake. you’re not sure if he’s a convincing actor or genuine soul. there are rumors he shot a man back in his hometown. that he launders money with jesse evans’ gang. that he’s a cheat from a rodeo front, taking ignorant peoples’ bet money.

billy hums, breaking your anxious thoughts, "what'd you wanna know, hon? i'm an open book."

you chew on your lip, thinking about it. it could be a smart move, you're curious about him and need to know more. you need to know what about him is fact or fiction. but at the same time, you're afraid of what the truth may be, "i don't know," you say finally. "i mean, work, for example. is this all you do?"

billy cracks a smile, "no, hon’. this s’more of a side job.” he sighs, “i was a pickup for jesse evans' rodeo for a while, but that new fella' that just came to town—mr. tunstill, he's got me a better gig."

you furrow your brows, already on edge by the mention of his previous employer, "and what exactly is that?"

he chuckles a bit, "he's got me as a producer, but i do show on the weekends."

"so what? you're a full-fledged rodeo man? with bulls and all?" you'd always know of jesse's grimy ‘rodeo’, really just used as a gambling den and club, but you're intrigued by the idea of billy actually doing it. especially working with tunstill, a sincerely kind wealthy man from overseas. it must be a stark contrast to jesse’s.

"i guess. it's a good time and you can make honest money dependin' on the event," he pauses, "it's not like jesse's, if that's what you're wondering."

you look away from him, "my pa never let me go. when i turned twenty-one i tried to go with a bunch of my girlfriends. he about had a stroke keeping me out the door."

"he's smart, you shouldn't go. those guys are bad news." he's talking quieter now, less sugary and more solemn.

you fight your previous embarrassment, opting to stare straight into his pale blues, "you hang around those guys."

your sentiment is clear and billy goes hush for a long few seconds before speaking, eyes closed, "do not carouse with drunkards or feast with gluttons, for they are on their way to poverty, and too much sleep clothes them in rags."

you know those words, heard primarily while crammed in a pew, "you're a religious man?" you don't mean to, but your question comes out a bit unconvinced.

he opens his eyes back up, a spark of something you can't place within them, "no, not really. jus' something mr. tunstill keeps repeating to me. i didn't really pay it any mind till i met you."

you try to ignore the way his hand inches closer to your own, "why's that?"

"not sure. just seems easier to abide by now. i'd hate to end up like them. i know you don't like 'em." his voice is soft, but the hand that takes hold of yours isn't.

you look down at your feebly interlocked hands, hesitating, and then taking his hand with the same conviction, "no, i don't," a breath, "but i like you."

billy's face lights up at your words, and he leans in closer to you. you can feel his breath on your face, and your heart races with excitement and anticipation. you’ve never felt to entrapped in a man before, so ready to dive in head first.

without thinking, you reach out to touch his sun kissed cheek, and he leans into your hand. your fingers trace a path down his cheek, and then down to his lips. you have an overwhelming urge to kiss him, and you're surprised when he pulls back.

"i'm sorry, i shouldn't have done that." you say, feeling embarrassed.

"no, it's not that. it's just… i want to take you out on a real date. something proper." his cheeks have grown far more pink, only this time it's not the sun's doing.

you consider his words for a moment, before nodding, "that sounds real nice, billy."

he grins, and you feel a flutter in your chest. how he managed to make you feel this way so soon, you're not sure.

"you free this friday?" he asks, amusement in his tone.

you release his hand, grabbing for your phone, "should be, my boss loves me," a stupid joke, but you hand the touchscreen to him, "put your number in, so we can plan a time."

you climb down from the bed of the truck, peering up at the farmhand as he adds his number to your phone. when he's done he hands you back the phone, the sun casting an auburn glow to his hair.

you look up at him, and he smiles down at you, "don't be a stranger." he jokes.

you give him a laugh, "wouldn’t dream of it," you add, "i'll see you friday— i'm going into town with my grandma tomorrow. i'm sure it'll last all day."

billy hums, "till' friday, honey."

you turn and head back to the house, smiling to yourself, feeling happy and alive in a way that you haven't felt in a long time.

the next day, thursday, you wake up early to accompany your grandma into town. the older woman drags you up and down shopping centre's, moaning on and on about how cheaply things are made now.

you make it through the first ten stores without your smile cracking, you think it must be a finely tuned talent.

it's not until well after lunch the woman decides to slow down, stopping at a local diner to eat. she does most of the talking, gossiping about everyone she's run into today.

you love your grandma and you enjoy your time with her, but you're too focused on tomorrow to really be good company.

if she notices your change in behavior though, she doesn't comment. highly unlike her.

by the time the sky is more dark than light, you two head home. she plays old country music the whole ride, teeny-bopper songs that remind you how young she used to be.

and when you finally lay your head down to rest, you don't try to fight off the supercut in your mind of your sweet farmhand.

the next day, fateful friday, arrives with a mix of nerves and excitement. you find yourself checking the clock more often than usual, the anticipation building as the day progresses. your mind drifts to the possible plans for the evening, wondering where billy might take you on this 'proper date.'

a bit after the sun hits noon, you finish up your chores on the farm, your thoughts consumed by your impending evening. you decide to freshen up and put on something nice, an easy way to get your mind together.

your closet here is less thorough than the one at home, but the innocent tops and bottoms of your late teens still fit. you look less severe than you'd normally for a date. forgone are the dark, tight, and sultry clothes of your college town, leaving you looking ever so sweet.

the early afternoon arrives, and you hear the distant rumble of his pickup as it approaches. you feel alight with a muddled mess of nerves as you make your way out of the house to meet him.

you look over your shoulder when you crack the door open. making sure you haven't awoken your sleeping grandparents, who rarely miss their three o'clock naps.

the summer sun is high in the sky, casting a bright glow over the landscape. billy's leaned up against his truck, staring expectantly at your front porch— staring at you, you realize.

as you walk to him, you can't help but notice the effort he put into dressing up. his filthy work shirt is replaced with a clean, green linen button-down, and there's a hint of ambery cologne in the air. he offers you a genuine smile, eyes lighting up as he takes in your appearance.

"hey there, beautiful." he greets you, a hand coming to rest on your shoulder blade, comforting.

"hi," you reply, returning his saccharine smile. "you clean up nice."

he chuckles, a bit bashful, "well, i figured it's a special occasion."

you let him lead you to the passenger side, where he opens the rusty pickup's door for you, you fight back your grin when he follows in after.

as you drive into town, the atmosphere is a blend of excitement and a tinge of nervousness. billy takes you to a quaint little restaurant a bit outside of town. it's casual but with dim lights and a cozy ambiance. certainly it's the most romantic restaurant around without heading an hour out into the city. the two of you share stories and laughs, finding little to no lull in conversation.

"you want any dessert?" you ask, fiddling a loose thread at the hem of your blouse.

billy shrugs, "i've never said no to some banana puddin'. what'd you say?"

you giggle, nodding in agreement. you feel high off of his company. you're giddy and doing a horrible job at hiding it, but he doesn't seem to mind. instead, he relegates to matching your optimism, only validating every enamored thought of him that rings in your mind.

the warm evening air swirls around you as the two of you exit the restaurant. billy offers his hand, and you gladly intertwine your fingers as you stroll down the sidewalk. the town square is alive with the soft glow of streetlights.

as you walk, the conversation continues, easy and simple. billy talks animatedly about his past few weekends at the rodeo and shares some amusing anecdotes about the other rider’s on the circuit. you, in turn, finally divulge your baler incident, much to his chagrin.

the final hours of afternoon are slowly rolling in, and soon you find yourselves back at his pickup truck. you assume he'll drive you home, but to your surprise, he takes a different route, heading towards the backroads right beside your land. you raise an eyebrow, curious about this unexpected detour.

"where are we going?" you inquire, a playful smile dancing on your lips.

billy smirks but doesn't say anything, keeping the destination a secret. the road is winding and narrow— made of dirt and full of large potholes. you know your little front-wheel drive could never make it. eventually, he slows the car off the path, onto the side of the road.

there's an apparent trail just to the right of you, and when billy opens the door for you, he immediately ushers you toward it, "don't worry, we won't go too far in."

you'd be lying if you said the setting sun wasn't adding a level of unease to the idea of entering the woods, but when you look at billy, eyes bright and smile true, you throw aside your worries.

the young man is true to his word. the trek into the woods only lasts a few minutes before you see it. an azure expanse of water— a secluded lake surrounded by towering oak trees and a backdrop of rolling hills.

you turn back to look at him, shocked, "how did you find this?"

"jus’ by chance a few years ago. i figured you'd been out here before, living so close," he remarks, "but i like that i got to show it to you." billy admits, a devoted glint in his eyes.

as you stand there, gazing at the serene lake, you feel a sense of wonder and gratitude for this unexpected and beautiful surprise. you can't remember the last time the familiar landscape of home felt so awing. billy seems to be taking in your reaction, a quiet satisfaction evident on his face.

"it's breathtaking." you finally say, your voice hushed in appreciation.

billy grins, seemingly pleased with your reaction, "so are you."

you turn back to the water to hide your flustered expression.

you watch him find a comfortable spot by the water's edge, sitting on a large flat rock. you follow suit, letting your head nestle into his chest. the sounds of nature surround you—the rustling leaves, the gentle lapping of the water, and the distant calls of birds. it's a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of the town and the farm.

you look up at him as inconspicuously as possible, eager to commit his image to memory. his umber hair curls at the nape of his neck, slender nose burnt from the sun, his freckles apparent, and his ever-inspired blue eyes reflecting the water ahead.

you look away as your heartbeat quickens, afraid that if you peer up any longer he'll be able to hear the rhythm.

"can you swim?" you ask, toes dipping into the waters below.

billy's gaze softens, the radiant hues of his eyes flickering with warmth as he looks down at you. his calloused hand idly tracing circles on your back, comforting, "yeah, i can swim. why? you wanna go for a dip?" he replies, a playful glint dancing across his face.

enthusiastically, you nod, "i'd love to. it's been ages since i've been swimming in a place like this."

with a charismatic grin, billy stands up, extending a hand to help you rise. he doesn't hesitate to unbutton his shirt and free himself from his pants— clothed only in his black boxers.

you try to be as carefree as him, but you're slower to shed your attire. by the time you do, he's already shoulder deep in the water.

you make your way to the water's edge, stepping in. the cool embrace of the lake greets your skin as you wade in. the sun now casts a dim golden glow on the rippling surface.

as you move deeper into the water, you feel a sense of liberty wash over you. you let out a contented sigh, feeling weightless and unburdened. billy is a few feet away from you, beckoning you to come closer with a smile on his face. you oblige, splashing water playfully in your wake.

as you approach him, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you close. you can feel the heat emanating from his body, warming you up in the cool water. your bare skin presses against his, and you can feel a hint of longing course through your veins.

"you're s'beautiful," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "prettiest girl i've ever seen."

you chuckle slightly, looking beside him to the water, "you're just blowing smoke up my ass."

his hand finds your cheek, gently beckoning you to face him fully, "why would i ever do that?" he hums, "i only say things i mean, honey."

you blink at him, too far gone to stop your gaping, "you're a charmer, billy bonney. do you hear that a lot?"

he laughs, both hands now coming to rest at your hips, forcing you to wrap your legs around his, "i only need to hear it from you."

he says it so carelessly, without a thought. he's telling the truth, you surmise.

"why? you like me or something?" the words come out genuine, despite your teasing intent.

billy's eyes trail down to your lips, "i like you a whole lot, honey," you feel his grip grow steadier, holding you closer to him. he looks back up at you, gaze tempting, "i like you s'much i worked an extra four days on your farm jus’ to see you."

the revelation hangs in the air, and you find yourself caught in a suspended moment, the water lapping gently around you. billy's admission resonates, sinking deep into the newfound connection you've shared over these past days. his stare, earnest and reserved, locks with yours, and you can't help but feel a swirl of emotions.

a smile plays on your lips, a mixture of surprise and awe, "that's dedication." you reply, a playful sparkle in your eyes.

billy grins, his hands still securely holding you. "only for you, honey. i'm nothin' if not devoted."

you gleam at his words, intrinsically leaning closer to him. you're so close to letting your lips brush his before you stop, eager to see the weight of his affection once more, "you can kiss me now, if that's what you're waiting for."

with that, he presses his lips to yours, kissing you with a hunger that leaves you breathless. you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you, savoring the taste of him on your tongue.

billy breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck and collarbone, leaving a trail of kisses and nips along the way. you tilt your head back, giving him better access to your skin, letting out a soft sigh as he finds the sensitive spot on your neck.

"you're gonna be the death o'me." he whispers against your skin, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

your fingers tangle in his hair as he continues his assault on your neck, alternating between gentle kisses and nibbles. you can feel the heat building between your bodies, the water around you providing a cooling effect to your heated embrace.

billy's hands slip down to cup your ass, pulling you closer to him so that there's barely any space between you. he grinds his hips against yours, earning a moan from deep in your throat. you can feel his hardness pressing against you through the thin fabric of his boxers.

your eyes flutter open and you lock gazes with him, the intensity of his gaze mesmerizing. you tilt your head back down, allowing him to steal another kiss. his tongue teases yours. his hands roam up and down your body, exploring every inch of you he can with a passionate fervor.

you can feel yourself being taken into the depths of him until you can barely think or breathe. it's only when he finally pulls away, that you realize the afternoon has fully evolved into the beginnings of nighttime. the sky above you is almost entirely dark, littered with stars.

somehow, you still don’t think the kiss was long enough.

billy smiles at you, brushing his hair away from his eyes. you can't help but smile back, feeling content and happy.

"i think i like you too much." he murmurs, his warm breath caressing your skin. you laugh softly, feeling the same way.

a hum of agreement, "me too." you whisper back, pulling him into a tight hug. you stay like that for a while, enjoying the warmth and comfort of each other's embrace.

as the night deepens, you and billy finally decide to make your way back to the truck. billy helps you out of the water, his touch lingering as you both reluctantly part from the tranquil lake. the air is filled with the sounds of nocturnal creatures, their symphony accompanying your footsteps as you follow the narrow trail back to the pickup truck.

the woods, now cloaked in darkness, take longer to exit. the moonlight filters through the dense canopy of leaves, casting shadows on the forest floor.

once back at the truck, you find yourself wrapped in a cozy blanket billy had thoughtfully brought along. the drive home is filled with a comfortable silence, the events of the evening settling into a cherished memory. the road is dimly lit by the truck's headlights, and the night sky is a canvas of stars above.

as you approach the farmhouse, the thrill of the night lingers between you and billy. he parks the truck, and the engine falls silent. the two of you sit in the quiet for a moment, savoring the experience.

"thank you for tonight, you were real sweet." you say, breaking the silence.

billy turns to you, a peaceful smile playing on his lips. "i should be thanking you, for goin’ out with me. so thank you, darling. i think you're real sweet too."

"i'm real glad we met." you add.

he reaches over, his hand finding yours, fingers intertwining in a comfortable gesture. "me too," he replies, his gaze holding yours.

with a reluctant smile, you open the truck door, preparing to step out. billy, however, stops you with a gentle tug on your hand.

"before you go," he starts, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes, "i was wonderin' if you'd like to do this again sometime. maybe i could take you down to the rodeo?"

the question catches you off guard, but the sincerity in his expression is undeniable. you feel a warmth spread through your chest, and you nod, "i'd like that, billy."

he grins, the moonlight casting a soft glow on his features. "good. it's a date then." you agree, leaning up and placing a peck on his pink lips before stepping out of the truck.

it's not until you're safely inside that he drives away into the night, the sound of the engine fading into the distance.

even as you slip into bed, the memories of the night play in your mind like a vivid dream. you drift into sleep with thoughts of the lake, the evening kisses, and the now waivered apprehension of the farmhand.

you've found yourself ensnared with billy bonney.

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#billy the kid #billy bonney #billy the kid x reader #billy bonney x reader #william h bonney #william h bonney x reader #tom blyth!billy the kid #tom blyth #billy bonney fluff #billy the kid fluff #i know everyone’s in their coriolanus era but…

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ghost-proofbaby · 3 months

Text

the seasons pass (but you never do) - e.m.

summary: he knew your reputation. he knew you had you way with half of hawkins. it was never going to end well - but that didn't stop him.

warnings: reader is NOT a good person (need to emphasize this), billy hargrove is involved and sort of ooc, smut, oral (fem receiving), a lot of hurt, not a 'happy' ending, reader has severe issues with self-esteem (not in the usual obvious way), very self-sabotaging reader. mentions of reader having adult relationships with multiple male characters. NOT A 'HAPPY' ENDING. minors dni - 18+

pairings: eddie munson x fem!fuckgirl!reader (with mentions of steve x reader, johnathan x reader, and billy x reader.)

wc: 8.4k+

a/n: i cannot emphasize enough - the reader in this fic is very toxic. she is not a good person. this does not end well. also, be wary, as billy is used as the easiest companion who can align with her being a bad person, so she is friends with him. this probably won't be everyone's cup of tea, but it's been a year in the works! thank you to anyone who reads. <3 also, HUGE thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for making that banner for me. i am undeserving of your talents baby.

oh, also, here's a fun playlist to go along with it.

SUMMER, 1988

It was always going to end this way. It’s how it’s supposed to go - you met him, you wanted him, you got him, you left him. There was never any illusions on your part as to what this was. He knew your reputation. He knew the ending. You knew the ending.

It was always going to end this way.

There was no amount of flowers he could have got you, no amount of midnight rendezvous to change this course. It never mattered how his laughter wound your chest tight or how his fingers fit a little too perfectly between yours. You didn’t do long-term relationships, and he always asked for too much from you. You could give him a summer, no more and no less. He knew that, you knew that, all your previous flings knew that. There was only one ending ever in sight for the two of you.

So why does it hurt so much when you catch sight of him around town with her?

Chrissy Cunningham is beautiful. She’s all shades of sunrise pinks, flavors of sweetness that spur stomach aches - the epitome of enchantment and a type of softness you couldn’t compare to. And when you see her arm in arm with him, you can see that beauty of hers painted across him. Her pinks paint roses on his cheeks, her laughter etches dimples into his cheeks you’d only ever seen in the late hours of the night. She makes him happy. She makes him look lovesick. She doesn’t hide him in the darkness, she flaunts him in the light, and he looks devastatingly beautiful without the shadows.

You should be happy for him. It shouldn’t phase you; you didn’t bat an eyelash when Steve Harrington had taken to dating every other girl in the town after your spring with him. You never winced when Johnathan Byers started dating Nancy Wheeler after a flirtatious fall with you. Billy Hargrove had been on the same page as you, ready to brave a chilling winter with you and accept when the ice melted along with the infatuation, returning your winks when you spotted each other with your newest one night stands in shared bars.

But Eddie’s summer stuck to your skin. No amount of showers run cold, no amount of new partners who you won’t allow to spend the night, wash you clean of him. The change in the leaves only amplified the ache left in your chest when August turns to September. The flowers weren’t the only things wilting when September flashes into October.

You miss him terribly, and it’s all your fault.

You let him stick around far longer than you should have. You let his wandering lips slot between yours and you let him sleep at your side from the very first night. When it was all said and done, you were the one that broke every single imaginary rule you had set for yourself, and the blame was yours to carry. Eddie Munson was never going to be a three month memory to wipe away with the steam of your mirror. He’d done it, he’d left his mark. He’d managed to make the streets of Hawkins feel cold and empty in his absence, to make everything dull in comparison to your life before him.

You empty the last of your glass of wine, all bitter and tinged on your tongue, and chuckle internally as you watch Eddie’s hand’s find Chrissy’s hips from across the bar. Go figure.

SPRING, 1987

The Hideout was busy as ever, booming with business on a Saturday night as you reentered the scene. Your ‘date’ for the night was still outside the bar, surely not even entertaining the thought of coming back inside.

He hadn’t taken to you breaking the news that it was over kindly.

“You never let them down easy, do you?” Billy chuckles as he leans against one of the standing tables near the bar. He had seen the look in your eyes when you dragged the nameless boy out the front door; he’d seen it plenty of times before. Starry eyed boy, ever-fleeting girl. They were fools, and they should have noticed your wandering eyes and lack of commitment from the get-go.

“Never,” you smirk back as you approach him. The live band had just finished, the music over the speakers nothing compared to the deafening screams of the guitars that had played, “It’s not my fault the boys in this town never learn their lesson.”

Billy only shrugs and throws back the last of his whiskey, “What did it this time? Did he drop the big L? Maybe he brought you flowers like Harrington did that one time?”

“Oh, God,” you place a hand over your heart dramatically, “Please don’t remind me. Breaking his heart nearly broke my nonexistent one.”

“Yeah, right,” Billy cackles, “Still can’t believe you ever gave the sap a chance. Or what about Byers, hm?”

“Couldn’t break a heart I never had. He always had eyes for Wheeler, that’s what made it fun,” you shrug and grab at a fruity drink that had been abandoned at the table, “To answer your question, he got clingy. All jealous because I was making eyes at the lead singer,” you tip your chin towards the stage that’s now empty and take a sip of the cocktail, “Say, what happened to your date? She looked pretty.”

“You were making eyes at Munson? Doll, I knew you were getting desperate after me, but him?” Billy cuts himself off with a low whistle.

“Shut up,” you take another long sip of the drink. It’s sweeter than your preference, but free alcohol is free alcohol, “Tell me what happened to the blonde you were chatting up.”

“I’m more into redheads.”

“Aw, but it looked like you two were really hitting it off.”

“I had to have three shots before I could stomach her laughing at my jokes.”

You reach over to pinch his cheeks, receiving sharp slaps against your wrists.

“Hot,” you coo before leaning back and ending his attack against your hands, “You know, if we both strike out tonight, we could always go home together.”

“You struck out, the night is still young for me,” Billy grins wickedly and looks around the busy bar for emphasis.

There’s a small commotion at one of the doors to the side of the stage, and you glance over to catch sight of the band that had been playing exiting.

The lead singer, Munson as Billy had referred to him, was just as stunning when taken down from his stage pedestal. His hair had been pulled back into a low bun, his torso once exposed on stage now covered in a faded Judas Priest tour shirt, but his Cheshire smile on his face was just as brilliant without the stage lights. Dimples hidden by the dark bar lighting, plush lips and scruff framing his face.

Billy catches you staring at him.

“Maybe you didn’t strike out,” he hums, “You gonna go for it, hot stuff?”

You smile in return. Something dangerous, something evil yet inviting, “I might. I do need a new play thing for the summer, after all.”

“Careful. I’m sure there’s a line of groupies willing to fight you for the Eddie Munson.”

Billy had been mocking you with a shrill voice, but he had been wrong.

There was no line of girls for you to compete with as you approached Eddie. And if there was, they wouldn’t have stood a chance. From the moment you had smiled at him, uttering your name into Eddie’s ears over the bass of the music, placing a careful hand on his shoulder and telling him how much you just adored his music, he had been hooked. You had him in your grasp from the start.

And maybe Billy knew that as he flashed you a sly grin over a redhead’s shoulder as you dragged Eddie behind you later that night, heading for the restrooms that patrons notably didn’t use.

It was your lipstick smeared over Eddie’s neck that night, it was your name falling from his lips as you pressed him against a stall wall, it was your hair that he tangled his hands in as you sat pretty on your knees before him, it was your nails digging into his jean-clad thighs as he fucked your mouth. No, other girls never would have stood a chance.

By the end of that night, you hadn’t even cum, but you thought nothing of it, still smug that you’d found yourself a new supposed victim. You’d never considered which one of you truly held the match, which one of you might bleed gasoline rather than crimson blood.

All that you considered was the fact that you’d wanted Eddie, and you’d got him, just as it always went.

That was only the first night.

SUMMER, 1987

You fall for him in the summer. You convince yourself you’re in control still, but it’s fruitless - you’d lost control the moment you’d tasted him on that dizzy spring night rather than waiting for the arrival of summer’s heat.

“Come over.”

Two simple words, yet the moment you’d spoken them over the line, Eddie had wasted no time to speed his way across town for your apartment. He was officially at your beck and call. You said the word, and he was at your dispense.

It was the fastest he’d ever arrived at your doorstep, rapping his knuckles against familiar rosewood and listening to the familiar weight of your footsteps approaching the door.

“Hey, you,” you sigh softly once you catch sight of him in your porchlight. The creatures of summer buzz as background noise as you drink him in. Same wild curls, same deviant smirk. There looks to be new rips in his black jeans, and his shirt is wrinkled, but none of that shatters the dreamy image of him to you.

You still want him just as badly as you had the first night.

“Sorry I took so long,” he teases, leaning into the doorframe you rest your hip against, “Traffic, you know.”

“Oh, of course. It’s just terrible this time of year,” you play along. You both know he’d made the fifteen minute drive in under ten minutes. But there’s something in the warm air, something electric and fluttering and addictive and palpable. You’re sure if you were to rest your hand flirtatiously against his chest as you normally did with your rotation of partners, that he’d burn you.

Something new. You tell yourself it’s just the excitement of a fresh Summer plaything, and you ignore the voice that whispers with the reminder that this started in the Spring.

“You gonna let me in?” he nods in the direction of your apartment behind you, bathed in a soft yellow from the dusk and the lamp on the table beside your couch.

You bring a hand to your chin and tap a finger mockingly, “Hm, I don’t know. Should I?”

“You should,” he leans even closer.

“I might need convincing.”

His breath washes over your cheek, so gentle you could have mistaken it for the summer breeze. You can smell the spice of his cologne, the stubborn smoke from his last cigarette. It makes your head spin.

“Convincing, you say?” he murmurs as his lips graze your earlobe, “I’ve been known to be convincing.”

This was something you enjoyed about him. He wasn’t like other boys - he didn’t fall to your feet and praise the ground you stood on, not directly. He didn’t follow you like a lost puppy. He took the time to dance with you, to entertain you with banter and to enrapture you with the chase. Maybe that’s why Spring and Summer felt the same when it came to him.

“I call bullshit,” you laugh breathlessly as his lips connect with your neck, making a trail of pecks until he reaches the bare skin of your shoulder. “You still haven’t convinced me to listen to Metallica.”

“We’ll get there, baby,” he whispers against your skin as his fingers sneak beneath the strap of your tank top, “Just be patient.”

The pet name strikes a kink in your armor, and in an instant, your hands are on his shoulders and dragging him into the living room, barely remembering to slam the door shut behind him.

You never let them call you nicknames normally. Billy had been the only exception.

But when he calls you baby, something blooms in your chest. And it’s vines and thorns alike twist and prick your gut, deflating your better judgment as the two of you are a mess of clumsy limbs that can’t seem to navigate your hallway fast enough. You can’t seem to get him to your bed fast enough.

“Off,” he demands against your lips when you finally have him sitting on your comforter, thighs straddling his as his hands tug at the tank top’s hem.

“What happened to patience?” you tease, but you’re already complying, shucking off the fabric and exposing yourself to him. You’d foregone a bra - it was too hot in Hawkins this time of year.

He doesn’t offer you an answer, hardly taking the time to suck in a deep breath before his mouth wraps around one of your peaked nipples and his large hand spans across your back to press you as close to him as he can get you. You’re already moaning too loudly, sure to receive noise complaints from the neighbors tomorrow. But you’re not thinking about the neighbors or tomorrow, you can only focus on his tongue and lips, working soft magic over your body as he twists the two of you so that he’s hovering over you.

“Fuck,” you blissfully breathe out, fingertips raking through the roots of his curls. His mouth has moved on to your other breast, leaving blooming petals of bruises in its wake.

Another thing you’d never allow to happen with any of the other boys.

No marks. A simple rule. A forgotten rule when it came to Eddie.

“You like that?” he chuckles as he places a final chaste kiss to your chest, lifting his head and staring up at you with his bambi eyes. He had the kind of eyes you could get lost in, wander and wade through for hours if given the chance. Shadows of brown and honey intertwining, beckoning to you with a promise of the adoration you seeked out.

You do like that. As a matter of fact, you love it.

“I like it better when your mouth is busy, rockstar,” you say as if you wouldn’t listen to him talk for hours, as if you hadn’t listened to him speak about nonsense as the time passed the two of you by.

He takes his cue, and he does as you ask. He traces roadmaps down your stomach, across your thighs and hips, not uttering a single word until he’s pulled away your cotton shorts and lace underwear.

When he’s face to face with your heat, he finally speaks again.

“Beautiful.”

It’s just a word. If any of your previous flings had spoken it, you’d smack them away and declare the moment over. In fact, you’d done just that with your autumn boy from last year. You weren’t here to be called beautiful, to be held carefully or to be praised as you let them take you however they pleased. You were here to get one thing and one thing only - your own pleasure.

Your back still arches when he says the word, your vines still crack your ribs just as they had reacted to the utterance of baby.

The thorns prickle beneath your skin when he makes you cum with his tongue once, twice, thrice too many times. When he pulls your body to his, when you allow him to forego the protection of a condom and you let him sigh contentedly into your mouth when he slides in, it all pierces you the same.

And when your voice has grown hoarse from chanting his name and your lips have gone chapped from kissing him desperately, you break your final damning rule.

“Stay with me?”

The plea comes out soft and heavy as your head rests against his chest. Even with your window open, the night breeze drifting in, the heat is stifling. It’s too warm to stay pressed so closely together, but it doesn’t stop you from clinging your body to his.

He doesn’t hesitate in his reply, “Of course.”

The two of you sink further into your sheets and each other. It wasn’t the first time Eddie Munson spent the night in your bed, and it surely wouldn’t be the last.

AUTUMN, 1987

“You like him more than you liked the others.”

It’s not a question - it’s a fact secured in concrete that falls from Billy’s lips as the two of you lean against the brick exterior of the Hideout. A cigarette is half-gone and held limply between his lips, yours freshly lit and clung to tightly between white knuckles.

“I don’t like him,” you scoff, “He’s a good fuck.”

You weren’t here on your normal business, scoping for another warm body to join you in your bed for the night. Eddie’s band, Corroded Coffin, was performing one of their weekly shows.

“Right. A good enough fuck to live to see the fall,” Billy presses, raising his eyebrows at you as he takes another drag and let’s the whisps of white smoke carry off into the cool night.

You’d just been striking out. That’s what you had told yourself. It was bound to happen eventually; you’d hit a dry streak, and you’d have to eventually find a repeat offender. Eddie was just that for you. Someone easy to fall back on. It didn’t hurt that you also enjoyed his company, especially when he’d swing you around in your kitchen while the two of you made dinner in your apartment or when he’d let you cuddle into his neck during the scary movie marathons you’d began to take part in with Halloween now looming around the corner.

“I haven’t seen you getting lucky,” you snap, a sudden defensiveness taking over. A lie, of course. You hadn’t frequented the bar enough lately to even know the last time your former fling had gotten laid.

Billy throws up his hands as he discards the butt of his cigarette, “Hey now, don’t get so feisty, doll. It’s okay to admit you’re going soft.”

Soft. Soft like Eddie’s hands when he pulled your hips against his night after night. Soft like Eddie’s eyes when he watched you in the shower during the mornings after, quick to swipe away any shampoo that drips down your forehead and dangerously close to your own eyes as you wash your hair. Soft like your voice every time you asked him to stay, over and over, never learning your lesson.

“I’m not going soft,” is all you say as you put out the cigarette, not even half-finished, and move to go back inside.

You’re not having this conversation. There’s nothing more to dissect. You weren’t going soft and you couldn’t like Eddie, it wasn’t in your nature.

It’s a mantra you repeat to yourself as you take in the sight of him still setting up the stage. You catch his eye and he grins at you, and you remind yourself you’re not soft. No, whatever this feeling is, it’s not soft. It is angry and loud, it is demanding and sharp. It is copper on your tongue and it is raging storm clouds in your mind. It is the opposite of everything he has been to you; it is every contrast possible to the way he treats you.

He treats you like a human being. You’re not a prize, you’re not an idol – you’re just a person, and sometimes, he treats you as if that’s the greatest thing you could possibly be.

When the show is over and rounds have been bought for the band, he comes home with you. He staggers on his feet and you know he’s had too much whiskey for his own good. Normally, any guy this drunk would be told to piss off.

He’s not any guy. He’s Eddie.

And so you take his drunken state in strides. You let his body lean into you as you guide him up the steps to your front door, you only smile when he gets handsy, you offer weak laughter at his terrible jokes.

“You only want me for my body,” he teases you between kisses when you hook your fingers into his jean’s belt loops to keep him close and upright, “Don’t you?”

This is the part where you tell him yes. You’re supposed to tell him he’s nothing more than a cure for the looming loneliness.

You shake your head.

“I’m not, but I can’t ride your personality, can I?” your fingers retract from the loops, and trace their way up his chest, memorizing the muscles beneath the t-shirt. It’s too faded to see the band logo once advertised.

“You could try,” he sways, and your wandering fingers curl into fists into the cotton material, “P-Probably be pretty hard, though. Just like me.”

He takes one of your hands and places it over the bulge in his jeans.

If he were any other guy, you’d play into it, because if he were any other guy, you’d be expecting to get something out of this night for your own selfish needs.

“Not so fast, rockstar,” you bring your hand back up to his chest as he hiccups, brows furrowed at your subtle rejection, “Let’s get you inside, yeah?”

It’s an uphill battle of gangly limbs and stumbling steps. He falls against your hallway walls more times than you can count as you guide him to your bedroom and allow him to splay out on the mattress. The laces of his combat boots are impossibly knotted, but you win the war in the end and tug them off of him. He wiggles his toes within his socks, and watches you with half-lidded eyes.

“This is the part where you try to ride my personality, right?” he tempts you, the wiggling in his toes flowing up to his eyebrows, eyes alight with mischief.

Your hand is gentle as you grab his ankle, exposed from jeans that had ridden up into scrunched material around the bottom of his calf. “Right. Let me get you some water first.”

You leave him to rush to the kitchen, gathering the glass of water you’d promised along with a bottle of painkillers from your medicine cabinet. For a moment, you take in the silence and lean your palms onto the cold kitchen counter.

Five months. Two months too long, technically, if you were comparing it all to your track record. He’d seen the eggshell white walls of your apartment more than your own mother, more than your closest friends. At this point, even on your most lonesome nights, you found yourself leaving an Eddie-sized space on the sheets beside you. One of your pillows now permanently smelt like him. There was a mug in your cabinet reserved for him and his ridiculously sweet coffee preference. You’d bought his favorite brand of cigarettes just last week, far stronger than your preferred menthols, and you’d found one of his socks discarded in your dirty laundry.

No, this wasn’t soft. It couldn’t be.

When you finally return to your room, he’s already asleep. You still leave the water and the pills on the bedside table for the next morning, when he’d need them. You try not to think too hard about the way that even in his drunken slumber, he’s left a perfectly you-sized space beside him, arm thrown out perfectly so that you can curl into him once you’ve brushed your teeth and dressed down into pajamas.

The last thing you remember before you fall asleep against him is the way your soft hand grazes over his stomach in soothing circles, and the way your brain softly whispers in the hope of his hangover not being too cruel to him come morning light.

WINTER, 1987

“Eddie! Stop it!” you squeal when he nearly takes you down with him as his back connects with the polished ice beneath the two of you.

Ice skating wasn’t the best idea for two people who were notoriously uncoordinated. But he’d asked you to come with him, and you’d put up little resistance.

“Ow, fuck,” he groans, still laying flat on his back with his eyes squeeze shut, legs spread wide as you wobble on your skates, “That fucking hurts.”

“I bet it does,” you nearly giggle, childish with your rosey cheeks and pink-tipped nose. Your smile is infectious once he opens his eyes and catches sight of you fighting back your laughter.

It was the first time the two of you had ever gone out before dark with each other. Although, you were sure by the time you two had finished your goofing off inside the indoor ice rink, it’d be night.

“Oh yeah,” he drawls, struggling to lift himself onto his elbows, “Laugh it up, chuckles. Don’t think I’ve forgotten your first fifty falls.”

“Fifty?” you squeak, forcing faux offense, “I only fell twice, thank you very much.”

It takes a bit for him to finally find his footing once more, plenty of hesitant and awkward movements to simply stand up right before you. Once you’re nearly face to face again, he’s pouting. “Kiss it better?”

Your feet shuffle beneath you, struggling to keep your balance. Your hands fly out and grab onto one of his forearms for balance, “Where’s it hurt?”

“Right here,” his free hand lifts to point to his lips, accentuating his pout further.

“Funny,” you muse, “I don’t recall you falling on your face - this time.”

He huffs as you begin to lose your balance again, one of your hands slipping down his wrist until your fingers are intertwined to the best of your abilities given the angle. His hand is freezing from the ice. Even despite his teasing, he’s quick to work with you, keeping the two of you standing straight with ever-shuffling feet.

“Residual pains or whatever they call them,” he waves off, tapping his lips again to make a point. You roll your eyes, but you’re still quick to lean forward and peck him.

“That’s all?” he whines, already moving in for another kiss.

Any onlooker would assume it’s a date. But it couldn’t be - you didn’t do dates. It was two friends, two acquaintances really, hanging out for the sake of fun. Just as you fell back on Eddie when your nights grew forlorn, he had seeked you out for comfort on his isolating days. It was just another perk of your arrangement.

An arrangement that had dragged on for eight long months.

“You’re greedy,” you mumble against his lips as he tries to deepen the kiss and you deny him.

“Of course I’m greedy,” he replies, nipping at your bottom lip playfully, “Can you blame a guy when it comes to you?”

You couldn’t, you really couldn’t. You’d had your fair share of possessive types in the past, the kind that felt the need to always claim you as your own. And you would have found it hot, too, if it didn’t feel like they reduced you down to nothing more than some trophy to parade around town.

Eddie didn’t do that. He was still greedy, he had still gotten daring with marking you as his own as of late, but he never reduced you. He never forced you to shrivel in size, never tried to compact you into the box he needed you in. He took you as you were.

You were enough for him. For the first time in a very long time, you were enough.

If you thought about it too long, you would have become dizzy out there on the ice with Eddie. So you don’t think about it. You indulge yourself in banter and echoing laughter, in the scolding looks from nearby parents when one of you makes a crude joke loud enough for their children to hear. You claim your indulging him with the incessant kisses, but you know deep down they’re also for you. To feel his lips on yours. To feel his hands on your hips. To feel his fingers between yours.

To feel like enough.

You’re both still giddy when you approach the counter after several hours have passed, dropping your rented skates on the counter as you glance to the arcade filled with patrons. Glowing lights and trilling noises emit from the area, tangling with giggling that you can’t quite place as coming from there or the ice. It’s loud enough that Eddie has to lean in closer to the teenager working the cash register.

He insisted on paying. You’d tried to fight him on it, but he insisted it was his treat.

It’s during this momentary separation, in which your worlds’ briefly stop revolving around each other, that you spot him. He must have been here for as long as you and Eddie had been, and you must have just been too wrapped up in enough to have noticed him sooner.

Just as you see him, he sees you. Just as you prepare to turn on heel, to return to hiding into Eddie’s enough, he’s calling your name.

It’s loud. It mingles with the sounds already coming from the atmosphere. Eddie doesn’t hear him, but you do.

“Steve,” you try to greet him with a friendly tone through your clenched teeth, taking a few steps further away from Eddie, away from enough and blissful delusion, “I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“Yeah,” he looks as if he’s seen a ghost as he approaches you, “Yeah, not since, uh- well, you know.”

Not since the night you’d officially cut all ties with him, somewhere between Jonathan and Billy. You’d broken his heart. You’d nearly broken your own.

Your lips are pressed into a tight lip smile as you try to redirect the conversation, “How’ve you been?”

“Good! I’ve- uh, yeah, good. You?”

I’ve been on a downward spiral of breaking every single rule that I have spent my entire life curating for my dating life, and I know you’re aware of this by the way you just looked at Eddie over my shoulder, and the way your brow is furrowing, and I get it. I get it. I fucked up.

“I’ve been alright,” you force your jaw to relax, you force a kind and shy smile. It’s almost akin to the ones you’d originally flash him to get him in your grasp, “How’s Nancy?”

Nancy Wheeler. After you left Steve the first time, letting whatever situationship that had begun just fizzle out, he’d ran into her arms. From the get go with Jonathan, you’d always known you were a placeholder for her. Even Billy had made a damn pass at her once you guys gave up at spring’s dawn; he’d claimed it might as well be a tradition now, only laughing as Nancy shot him down as expected.

Nancy Wheeler was everything you weren’t. She could promise these men security, stability, commitment, a future. She didn’t hide them. They weren’t dirty secrets forced to only wander into her arms late at night, they weren’t kicked out at the end of each night once she’d had their way with them.

Nancy probably never had her way with men, you realized, more likely letting them have their way with her.

“We broke up,” Again. He forgets to add the again.

They’d gotten together after that first time, been together while you had fun with Jonathan, broken up the moment you were finished with Jonathan and he could go to where he belonged – with Nancy.

Of course, when Jonathan chose a different university to go to, somewhere far away from Nancy, those two had broken up. Steve had swooped in again. It was a never ending headache of small town gossip you had grown tired of hearing about.

“I’m sorry,” you aren’t really, “That’s… forget I’m asked,” you’d feel worse if you hadn’t seen the girl waiting to the side for Steve. His date, no doubt.

“No worries, it’s been a while since it happened anyways,” he shrugs it off, but you can still see the hurt in his eyes.

He’d once called you drunkenly, going off on how he was going on all these dates trying to find you or Nancy again, how none of them were you or Nancy. Which, at the time, just irritated you because Steve, why do you still have my number? But now? Now, you almost get it. You almost understand the pain of searching for a familiar face in the eyes of strangers because any time you had gone to your usual haunts these last seven months, you found yourself searching crowds for wild, messy curls and warm brown eyes. For shades of honey and the scent of tobacco drowned out by cheap cologne.

You hadn’t been striking out anymore, the realization hits clear as day. It’s not even that you were being as picky as you normally were – none of the guys were Eddie. None of them had freckles below their right eyes that made your breath catch, none of them had the same calluses along their fingers from years of guitar practice. None of them had the same boyish grin that shone through the dark of your room at two in the morning, leaving you with no choice but to let him stay. They weren’t Eddie.

“You like him more than you liked the others,” Billy’s voice reverberates from the back of your mind.

The truth seeps into your bones like ash and flames, a fever burning you from the inside out.

Steve only fans the flames when he nods over your shoulder at Eddie, “So, are you and Munson a thing now?”

Flames. Hot coals in the back of your throat, lively embers trailing down your spine. You’re watching the entirety of who you had worked so hard to become over the years bursting into flames.

“What?” you whisper, not realizing Eddie had finished paying behind you, “No. No, we- no. We aren’t anything. We’re just… we’re just friends.”

Even the word friends whispers away into smoke, choking you up.

“Friends? Looks like you two were on a date, like he’s your boyfriend or something.”

“Well, we’re not. He’s not.”

Steve hardly buys it, but when Eddie joins your side once more, you don’t even offer him a glimmer of a farewell. You grab the wrist of your friend, your not boyfriend, and you high tail out of there. Still choked up, still running, still reeling.

It’s still light when you leave the building and your hand drops from Eddie’s. You’ll both pretend the cold is from the weather, and not the distance you put between him and yourself.

And if he heard your conversation with Steve, he doesn’t bring it up. Not that night, at least.

SPRING, 1988

“I can’t do this anymore.”

You got him in the spring – it makes sense that you lose him in the spring.

“What do you mean?” you play dumb, painfully coy as you continue to rinse the dishes. Plural. Dishes that the two of you had just dirtied through a painfully tense dinner together. In your apartment, at the counter of your tiny kitchen, knees not even so much as brushing.

“This,” something has broken inside of him. Snapped, shattered, splintered. “It’s been a year, and I keep telling myself that you’ll come around, but-”

“Come around?” you cut him off with a laugh, one that stabs not only through his chest but your own. A double-edged dagger that has been sharpening itself for a year now, “Come around to what, Eddie?”

He hadn’t expected the way you lash out, the cold storm that you had been consumed by since the winter night where Steve had looked at you like something had changed in you. As if you had finally gotten better, as if you had had something sour in you all along and Eddie had managed to magically drain you of it.

He couldn’t. He never was going to be able to.

“Me?” he’s not sure of himself, voice wavering and eyes sparkling as they widen with tears of frustration, “Us? Fuck, I don’t know, but I can’t keep-”

“You thought I would come around to the idea of us?” your voice is cool and collected, nothing like his, as you finally turn around, “What, like we’re dating?”

You were. A year of this back and forth, and you were too stubborn to just accept it. It was your downfall. It was the bleeding wound for not only yourself, but for Eddie – for this, as he had called it.

You like him more than you liked the others.

So, are you and Munson a thing now?

A good enough fuck to live to see the fall.

You were never going to be enough for him. In your lifetime, you’d always known what you were good for, and it wasn’t for boys like Eddie Munson.

“What else do you call this?” he motions vaguely to the dishes, to the fridge that holds his takeout, to the hallway he had tumbled down more times than you could count, “We’re more than just good friends, sweetheart.”

“We both knew what we were getting into.”

“Did we?”

Come over.

I might need convincing.

Stay with me?

You should have been smarter. You should have been more careful.

It’s a brutal fight, and it’s the everything you had been waiting for. The illusion of softness finally breaks. Whispered words of care have become sharp insults, all the small moments where you had made mistake after mistake with him are now weapons. If the dated walls of your kitchen could speak, the tiles would murmur of all the blood being spelt as brutal defenses are sent back and forth from both sides.

“I need more.”

“I can’t give you more.”

“You could, you just don’t want to.”

“What’s the difference, Eddie?”

You were never going to be enough. You should have seen that, clear as daylight from the beginning. You were something rotten from the moment he met you, and he had just been too stupid to recognize all the decay.

Of course I’m greedy. Can you blame a guy when it comes to you?

Why couldn’t he just accept what you were willing to give? Why did he have to push, to persist, to insist upon you laying more of yourself out for him? You had already dissected yourself beyond repair, made the cuts that would never heal and bared your innards in a way that you never should have to begin with.

Stay with me?

You wish you were still just lazing in between your sheets with him. A you-shaped space at his side, a pillow on his side of your bed. You wish he had never picked a fight he had every right to rage. You wish, you wish, you wish.

Stay with me?

And then you lose, you lose, you lose.

“You were just some idiot who thought you could change me,” you seethe at some point, aiming damning arrows for every exposed bone he’d ever given you a glimpse of, “What made you think that? Hm? Was it when I paraded you around the town, calling you my boyfriend? Or was it every time I told you just how much I loved you? Was it when I fell to my knees and kissed the ground you walked on, Eddie? Go ahead. Tell me.”

You were just rubbing salt in the wound at that point. Saying everything he had wished for over the last year, that you never gave him.

You never called him your boyfriend. You never told him you loved him. You never did, and you never would.

When it’s all said and done, it’s everything you had expected. A screaming match that the neighbors will complain about the same as they’d complained about every late-night rendezvous between the two of you. An effective cutting of ties that you’d been anticipating for a long twelve months. If it were the movies, maybe the fight would have been more effective. Something that would delve into the lead up of love confessions, an ending where you wind up in his arms and he’s whispering every which way that he still cares for you, even with your teeth bared and your sharpest knives poised.

It’s not a movie. It’s everything you expected.

But you hadn’t been prepared for the ache. When your own vicious words left a taste of ash on the tongue, when his eyes flashing with something harsher and less caring for you left a hollow ache that rang in your ears longer than his voice did. You didn’t think that you’d feel the cutting of ties. Every nerve ending in your body feels that jagged edge that saws through all that you two had tried to build over the last year, but it’s far too little and far too late. The foundation was cracked – you were damaged.

You lose him. The world doesn’t end; the night carries on even as he grabs his leather jacket and leaves behind the sock in your dirty laundry. And when he exits out your front door, hiding away any tears that might have slipped free, just as you were, you feel that unexpected whisper inside of you.

Stay with me?

You sleep alone that night. For once, the smell of tobacco and his shampoo makes you throw the pillow that was once his across the room.

SUMMER, 1988

She deserves him.

Chrissy Cunningham deserved Eddie Munson far more than you ever had. She was enough.

Summer can stain, but it can’t erase. Even in the months of aftermath, even for every tear shed in private and wave of yearning that would drown you in the dead of night, you never changed. It had hardly taken weeks after Eddie had walked out of your life for you to return to your old ways, going back to the bars and seeking out the latest warm blood to lose yourself in that night.

It didn’t matter that you compared each and every single smile to Eddie’s. It didn’t matter that you’d have to grip your sheets until your knuckles turned bloody to avoid touching the strangers hovering over you, hoping to feel familiar skin and a comfort long lost instead of whatever poor soul you’d dragged home with you.

He deserves a love full of life. A love that breathes him in and doesn’t drain him. One that could let him feel the sun on his skin rather than hiding him away in the night.

A love that doesn’t tick away each passing season, because it’s a love that doesn’t have a ticking time bomb attached to it.

“Never thought I’d see the day Cunningham got her claws in Munson,” Billy mumbles around a cigarette at your side.

He didn’t tease about Eddie those first few months. One look at you, and he had known.

“She didn’t get her claws in him,” you say, monotonous as you reach for your drink once more, “I’m happy for him. They look happy.”

They do. They really, really do. A love that burns like summer, and has never been touched by a dying autumn or cruel winter. The type of happiness Eddie would have never been able to find from you, try as he had.

Billy taps some of his ash into the tray at the center of your shared table. Surely, he had better things to do, but he stays. It was probably entertaining, watching you pine and regret for once in your life, “Looks can be deceiving.”

“Their’s don’t. I bet you that there’s a ring on her finger before next summer.”

You don’t want to imagine the pain that would ignite in you. That’s the type of emotion that would far surpass any regret you currently feel. But you seem to enjoy torturing yourself, eyes still zeroing in on her left hand, as if you already see the glint of whatever diamond Eddie would seek out for his worthy lover.

“And I bet if that happens, you skip town within twenty four hours of finding out.”

He’s right. Nothing was truly tying you to this sleepy town, and the reminder of your worst mistake, your most terrible slip up of all time, would easily send you running with your tail between your legs.

“Probably,” you sigh, no longer putting up a front. You hadn’t even tried batting your lashes at a single man since Eddie and Chrissy had arrived at the bar. You were striking out tonight, on your own volition, “Maybe I’d move to California. I hear the men there are easy enough.”

“They are,” Billy laughs, throwing his head back. It’s enough to garner attention across the bar, numerous girls being enticed as if he might be a siren beckoning to them, “Take it from one. The girls on the west coast are prettier, though, so you can’t blame ‘em.”

The girls on the west coast probably resemble Chrissy. Golden skin, golden auras, golden light. Honeyed words and the sweetest of blushes across coy cheeks. They probably embody every sunset and sunrise simultaneously, and you can only stand there green with envy.

“You are awfully easy,” is all you can offer in reply. The banter has started to fall flat since Eddie. You’re no fun – hardly taking any bait that Billy will hand over so generously.

Maybe, if you had tried a little harder, you could have been one of those girls. Clear blue skies, not a sight of the storm clouds that you still let consume you.

Maybe Eddie would have stayed if you had tried a little harder.

There’s no real hope for it now. You’re left to being nothing more than a conglomeration of pathetic pity parties and the taste of cheap beer these days, hardly worth the chase once the boys get close enough to see the rot. You’ve stopped trying so hard to cover it up; you’d ripped yourself open for Eddie, and had never found a way to properly suture yourself back together so that anyone new might not get a glimpse of all the bad. They could spot it from a mile away these days.

It doesn’t help that you no longer try to cover it all up with overly sweet perfumes or sickly sweet pickup lines.

Billy’s laughter didn’t just draw the attention of the girls around the bars. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see a pair of whiskey eyes find the two of you, locking on you far too easily to have not known.

You notice, because of course you notice him. But when Billy notices, it catches you a bit more off guard.

“Like I said,” he drawls, and you nearly panic when he grabs his drink off to leave you behind, “Looks can be deceiving, hot stuff.”

Your eyes find Eddie’s quickly, not listening to a word that Billy is saying. Chrissy is saying something, something surely important, but her boy isn’t listening. Her boy, her conduit for all her sunshine, is staring right at you and has no plans on looking away any time soon.

He’s seen the rot up close and personal. He’s the one who’d handed the treacherous scalpel over to your shaking hands, encouraging you to open up in all the ways you never wished to.

You shouldn’t do it. You’ll regret it. You really shouldn’t do this.

“They never learn their lesson, do they?”

You don’t know who Billy is talking about.

Eddie, who almost seems to be under your spell, taking a slow slip of his neat whiskey, staring you down as if he’s brimming with bad ideas that he hopes you can hear from across the room.

Or you, who should know better. You hurt him, you broke his heart, you don’t deserve him. And yet, you’re selfish as ever, mind reeling with possibilities of how you wish the night would end.

You can hear the bad ideas. Clear as day. Especially when Eddie only breaks eye contact long enough to lean in to Chrissy and whisper something that effectively dismisses her, leaving Eddie all alone and in your gaze.

“They don’t,” you say, throwing back the last of your drink.

You know where he’s heading. And you know where you’re heading. A moth to his flame, going only where he will allow you. You’re a ghost of the menace you once were. The other men, the other bodies that kept you warm these nights; none of them were him. You didn’t want them. You weren’t soft with them. They never stayed, because you never asked them to. There was only one man in this bar, in this entire damn bar, that would ever fill the hole left behind in you after Eddie’s summer. Eddie’s spring, Eddie’s autumn, Eddie’s winter.

And he was walking outside the bar, almost tauntingly as he sauntered through the doors, beckoning you with each and every step.

Perhaps this time, Eddie’s the one who needs a summer plaything.

“This isn’t going to end well,” Billy taunts you as he takes a few steps back, knowing damn well as to what was about to happen. Bad ideas, downright terrible ideas.

Eddie is playing the same game as you were once a master in. It dawns on you; Chrissy Cunningham wasn’t his newest love. She wasn’t his sweetest sunrise or gentle spring. She was a passing wind, just like all the boys you’d enticed before him. She’s already moved along, pretty hand resting on the shoulder of a new beau and not even paying any mind to Eddie’s absence. She may deserve him, but she doesn’t have him.

Nor do you. The roles have been switched, and you should know better. He’s leading you to an inevitable death, whether it be a little one or something of catastrophic value. He is leading you right into your own demise. Just as you used to do with every new victim you’d set your mark on before him, before your summer, before it all.

All your old tricks, turned to weapons against you.

And you’ll let him. A moth to his flame. A dog at his window sill.

“It never does.”

Stay with me?

Maybe, this time, you’ll be the one staying. If only for the night, and if only for Eddie.

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#my writing #ghost's stories #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #i could certainly be persuaded to write a part 2 :)

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ravenromanova · 5 months

Text

Mommy

Pairings: Milf Wanda x Female reader

Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT 18!! ONLY!!! Mommy kink, Oral, Fingering, Legal age gap, MOMMY WANDA!!!!! Reader and Wanda get caught. DO NOT READ IF YOURE UNDERAGE!!!!!

Masterlist - Send me requests!!!!

You knew it was wrong to be looking at your best friends mom the way you were. But honestly who could blame you when she looked the way she looked. Wanda was an enigma and she had you in a complete trance whenever you saw her. And luckily for you, you saw her quite often since you were besties with her twin boys. So you always got to see the red headed woman which was a blessing and a curse.

Your crush on Wanda started developing your senior year of high school. Billy and Tommy had just transferred from westview to the small town of green lake in upstate new york. Which is where they met you. And in a matter of days you and the boys were inseparable and did everything together. So when they had invited you over to their house for the first time you happily agreed.

But when you had stepped into the house and saw the woman they called mom your heart nearly stopped. She was beautiful and you almost melted at the sound of her voice when she introduced herself. That day was the start of your crush on Wanda maximoff. And as the time went on and you grew closer with the boys you also grew closer with her.

It was weird at first being close with Wanda but eventually you thought of her as one of you friends. You learned a lot about her, how her husband and the boys father left them a few years ago, she talked to you about her family and where she came from. And for some reason you felt a need to protect her after everything she told her about her past.

That brings us to now. Spring break of your freshman year of college. You went to a little college that was a couple of hours away from from green lake so luckily you were able to go home for the week. Unfortunately you didn’t have any home to go to so the boys told you just to come to theirs and that you’ll stay with them. At first you were a little hesitant because of your crush on their mother but soon agreed due to the lack of places to go.

So once you drove back into town you headed straight for the Maximoff residence. And when you pulled up to the red bricked house your heart started to beat a little faster. You got out of the car and grabbed your bag before walking up the few steps in front of the house.

You waited a few moments after you knocked on the red door. And surprisingly you weren’t met with the sight of Billy or Tommy. It was Wanda who opened the door with her signature bright smile.

“Y/n darling youre back. Oh i missed you darling!” She greeted happily and engulfed you in a tight hug.

“Hi Wanda. I-I missed you too” You said returning the hug with the same amount of passion. Her perfume filled yours senses and damn near brought you to your knees.

“Come in, the boys aren’t home right now they went to their uncles for the night… im assuming they forgot you were coming today” Wanda shook her head at the thought of her boys forgetting about you.

“It’s okay i wont hold it against them….this time” She laughed a little before she grabbed your bag for you and lead you inside.

“Make yourself comfortable and I’ll make you some tea and then we can catch up” Her voice called out to you as she walked into the kitchen. You did as you were told and sat on the comfortable couch and waited for her to return.

A few minutes later Wanda came back into the living room with two mugs in her hand and handed you one before sitting down. She then sat next to you and her thigh brushed against yours causing you to choke a little.

Unbeknownst to you Wanda had a whole plan for the night. She had told the boys to go to Pietros for the night so she could spend time with you. Granted the twins were confused as to why since you were coming into town but all she said was that he needed them for something. So they left for the night and thats when her plan was put in motion.

Wanda has had a little crush on you for a little bit now. She knew it was wrong to be looking at you the way she did but she couldn’t help it. When she had met you a few months after your eighteenth birthday when the boys had introduced you two she was enamored. So she waited, built up the tension for years hoping you’d make a move but you never did. And quite frankly she had enough she needed you and now was the time.

“So how’s college darling?” Wanda asked as she slowly sipped her tea while looking into your eyes.

“It’s okay i took on a bigger class load than i should’ve” You cringed thinking about all the homework you had almost daily.

“Well youre a smart girl darling im sure it’ll get easier as the time goes on” Wandas hand landed on your thigh making your heart speed up and your face heat up from her praise.

“I mean i know i can handle it. But all the work doesn’t leave time for anything other than just that” She nodded in understanding and bit her lip as she listened.

“So you dont have a girlfriend or anything?” Her question caught you off guard and you started coughing on your tea.

“Uh no i have absolutely no luck in that department” You chuckled dryly.

Wanda smiled when you admitted you were single. She scooted a little closer to you and placed her hand on your thigh. “Why is that darling? I’m sure you have plenty of girls falling at your feet” You looked at her hand on your thigh and almost passed away.

“I- uh just dont find anyone that interesting” You said honestly causing the older woman to smirk.

“Well what about me? Do you find me interesting darling?” She asked and you swore she was trying to kill you.

“I find you very interesting Wanda” You choke out as she moves her hand higher. Wanda moves even closer to you and brought her face within inches of yours.

“Wanda… w-what are you doing” Wanda smiled at your question before she crashed her lips into yours. She gave you no time to think as she straddled your lap not breaking the kiss.

You moaned a little in her mouth at the taste of her. She tasted like tea and mint and you couldn’t get enough. Your hands found their way to her hips and you held on tightly almost as if you’d let go shed disappear.

“I need you darling” She husked in your ear. You nodded your head knowing that if you tried to speak your voice would fail you. Wanda smiled and started to kiss down your neck and let her hands find the them of your shirt. She wasted no time in removing your shirt and bra.

“Wanda please” You begged the redhead who smiled and wrapped her lips around one of your nipples. Her other hand went to your other one and started tugging on it making you moan and mewl bin response.

“You sound so pretty malysh” She praised you and your heart couldn’t help but swell at the nickname she gave you in her mother tongue.

“I-I need you Wanda” You continued to beg as your grip on her hips became tighter.

“What do you need baby? What do you need mommy to do” She feigned confusion making you groan a little.

“I need you to fuck me mommy” Wanda was more than pleased with your words and she slowly slid off you body and settled between your thighs on the floor.

Her hands teased the hem of you pants and you threw your head back. She was barely touching you but yet you were reeling. After a few minutes of her kissing your stomach and softly caressing your skin she finally took off your pants. Her fingers ran over your pantie covered pussy making a wet patch grow where you needed her the most.

“Ive wanted to do this for so long pretty girl” She kisses your clothed clit before she slides your panties off leaving you bare in front of her.

“Please” You moan as your hands find their way to her hair. Wanda kisses your inner thigh before she dives in and starts licking your clit.

“Oh my god mommy” You pretty much screech at the contact. The feeling of her warm tongue circling around your clit makes you preen. Wanda moans at the taste of you knowing that she’s now addicted.

“M-More” You plead needing more stimulation. Wanda seems to know exactly what you need and shoves two of her nimble fingers into your aching hole.

“Like that baby?” She asked with a smirk on her face as she hit your g-spot making you mewl.

“J-Just like that mommy oh god” You moan feeling your orgasm building up. It’s in this moment you know that you ruined for any other woman and you will never be able to cum without Wanda again.

“Cum for me babygirl come on give it to mommy” She keeps thrusting her fingers in you hitting all the right spots. Your walls clench around her fingers and your back arches off the couch.

“OH FUCK!” You scream as your orgasm crashes through you. Wanda keeps thrusting at a slow pace helping you ride out your high before she pulls out of you. Once she pulls out she licks her fingers clean and smiles before coming back up to your face.

“You’re amazing malysh” She praised bringing you in for a sloppy kiss.

“Mmm thank you mommy” You respond bashfully feeling another wave of arousal course through you when she leaves a hickey on your neck.

You thread your fingers in her hair and bring her back for another kiss which she gladly reciprocates. The two of you get so lost in each other that you didn’t hear the door open.

“Hey mom we’re ho- OH MY GOD!” Billy and Tommy scream as they enter the living room and see their best friend naked on the couch with their mother on top of her.

“Fuck” You mutter as you try to find your clothes which are scattered across the floor.

“We are just gonna go back to pietros…” Tommy says slowly backing out of the house with Billy in suite not wanting to have this discussion right now or ever.

You and Wanda both look at each other stunned before you both break out in to laughter.

“We should’ve taken it to the bedroom” You say in between giggles. Wanda nods her head giggling not being able to form words. After a few seconds she stands up and picks you up by your thighs and takes you to her room for round two.

~The end~

p.s. i love mommy Wanda.

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bealovesmarauders · 1 year

Text

paper rings // gilbert blythe

or,

the 4 times gilbert blythe fell in love with you, and the 1 time he knew he’d do it all over again

⋆ ࣪. ⁺⑅ ⋰˚ *.ﾟ .˳⁺⁎˚ ˚⁎⁺˳ . ༺ ˖

gilbert blythe x fem!reader

wc: 5.7k

i like shiny things, but i’d marry you with paper rings

a/n: trying something new here! i’ve never used this format (five times // one time- i tweaked it to make it four and one since i’m exhausted) so i hope you all enjoy <3 also fair warning that this is not historically accurate. but i actually spend my summers in PEI (and have for my entire life) so i think my portrayal of the environment at least is good! also, this is rushed as per usual :)

⋆ ࣪. ⁺⑅ ⋰˚ *.ﾟ .˳⁺⁎˚ ˚⁎⁺˳ . ༺ ˖

one. when he walked you home from school.

the late june air was sticky in the avonlea schoolhouse, clinging to skin, beads of sweat gathering by brows. sunlight spilled through the windows, and even billy andrews couldn’t muster enough enthusiasm to tease anyone in this heat. pinafores too heavy for this weather, the girls gathered in one corner, pretending to read the excerpt mr phillips had picked out for today, but in honesty, you were all just complaining about the summer heat.

“i can’t wait until i have my hair up,” ruby gillis sighed, casting a longing glance across the room towards the boys. “my ribbon does suit my complexion, of course- but it’s much too hot in summer to have my hair down.”

murmurs of agreement spread throughout your little group. “i tried it one time,” whispered anne dramatically, “when marilla was away. it was rather romantic, but the pins hurt a great deal.”

sitting in between jane andrews and tillie boulter, you tried not to zone out. gaze drifting across the classroom, you caught gilbert blythe’s eye from where he was sitting with the boys, and he shot you a quick smile. you gave him a shy one back, and looked away before you could blush. you’d known gilbert forever- his family was close to yours- but something had changed recently, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

mr. phillips finally dismissed the class, and in a rush of rowdiness, the boys all excused themselves from the schoolhouse, whooping and hollering about a potential skinny dip in the wild waves. in a flurry of giggles and secrets, your friends gathered their books and rushed outside (in a rather unladylike manner- but it was summer and the world was their oyster, so who cared). you knew diana was hosting a tea party over the weekend- complete with ice cream, she’d said!- but as far as you knew, there were no plans for tonight, save the beach trip the boys had talked about. trying your best to avoid the heat for as long as possible, you lingered in the coatroom, taking the time to adjust your hat into place. but you weren’t alone, and you startled as a familiar face appeared over your shoulder.

“gilbert,” you said, his name sweet on your tongue. “you’re not going to the beach with billy?”

he shook his head. “i’m not quite in the mood for that today. but i was wondering. do you want- can i- would you like some company on your walk home?”

heart in your throat, you looked at the boy you’d known your whole life. was gilbert blythe asking to walk you home? you nodded wordlessly, and his eyes immediately softened. there was a nervousness you’d never seen in him before, a cautiousness, as if he were treading on eggshells and was terrified to break them. “i- i’d love that, gilbert, thank you.” a smile slowly spread across his face, and you seemed to see him in a new light. noticing the things you hadn’t before. the softness of his dark eyes and the way they sparkled. the gentle curve of his jaw. the way he smelled like rosemary and mint soap and the blythe farm’s apple orchard, mixed with a hint of cinnamon. the way gilbert blythe was the prettiest boy you’d ever seen.

“great,” he said, finally breaking you out of your reverie. “i wouldn’t want you to get heatstroke, after all. it’d be ungentlemanly of me to let you go home without making sure you’re alright in this heat.”

your stomach erupted with butterflies, and you walked in silence with him as you left the schoolhouse. treading along the path, your footsteps settled into the same rhythm, and eventually gilbert spoke, his voice clear among the songbirds and crickets.

“how’s your family? i haven’t seen them in a fortnight.”

his tone was proper and gentlemanly, but curious and kind. you looked shyly up at him. gilbert was tall, taller than you, sturdy with broad shoulders and a grin that showed off a lopsided roguishness once in a while on his otherwise serious face. you gripped your books a little tighter, trying to focus your thoughts back to the conversation. “they’re good, thanks for asking. mother’s been wondering about you, though. she’s wanted to drop soup off for your father, but wasn’t sure if he’d appreciate it. it’s been a while since you were over, so she doesn’t know if he still likes biscuits or bone broth.”

gilbert scuffed the ground with his boot a little bit, looking down at you contemplatively. “that’s kind of her,” he said. “he’s barely been able to keep anything down, but he likes soup. i’m not sure about the biscuits, but i’d certainly like some. i wouldn’t mind some of your mother’s plum preserves either. i haven’t had much time to go into town for food lately.”

you’d noticed. there were shadows under his eyes, and he’d always been on the lanky side, but since gilbert had taken on more of the farm work you’d observed his cheeks grow more drawn. his muscles had grown, too- another result of all the wood chopping you knew he was doing- but he lacked energy, and your heart ached for the boy. cicadas chirped as you walked in unison through the path, minding the garden snakes slinking through the tall grass, and an idea sparked in your mind as you passed the field signaling close to home.

“gilbert,” you said thoughtfully, stopping in your tracks. “mother was going to make a layer cake today, with raspberry preserves and clotted cream. i’m sure it’s cooled by now. we can have a little picnic, you and i- we have lemonade at home too, that rachel lynde brought us, and father thinks it’s too tart, so he wants to get rid of it. you can bring some home for your father as well. mother wouldn’t mind, i promise- i can make us a picnic basket, and we can sit in that field.”

gilbert turned towards you, and you couldn’t quite decipher the expression on his face. “i don’t want you to pity me,” he said quietly. “much less drag your family into it.”

“no, no,” you said quickly, fearing he’d interpreted your invitation the wrong way. “just a picnic, to catch up, as friends. we haven’t talked in a while. i miss you.”

he bit his lip. you could almost see the gears turning in his head. “alright,” he said finally. “it’s almost summer, after all. i think- i think i’d like that.”

when you reached your house, your mother was more than happy to oblige, giving gilbert a big hug and fussing over how much taller he’d gotten since the last time she saw him. you cut two pieces of cake and put them on plates in the straw picnic basket along with the bottle of mrs. lynde’s infamous lemonade. your mother even let you bring the crystal glasses used for special occasions- she trusted the both of you well enough to know that you wouldn’t break them. covering up the basket with a red checkered tablecloth, you and gilbert set off again, waving goodbye to your mother and finding a spot in the field where there was a tree with enough shade to sit under. clover and goldenrod and cornstalk bloomed in the field, and the cool, sweet grass tickled the bottom of your dress. gilbert, beside you, leaned back against the tree, his broad shoulder touching yours, and spooned a large amount of cake into his mouth. it was the happiest you’d seen him in months. the thin layer of ruby jelly in between the vanilla layers coloured the cupid’s bow of your lips, and gilbert realized in that moment that he wanted very badly to take you into his arms and kiss you. but the moment was fleeting, and gilbert was left with the idea of love lingering on his mind.

that was the first time gilbert blythe realized he was falling for you.

two. when you showed up on his doorstep in the rain.

rain poured outside, streaking the windows and trickling down the roofs of avonlea’s houses. sorrow hung in the air, and black clothing had dominated the church the day prior. it was not often that avonlea had funerals, and when they were, they were a somber affair, impacting every one of its citizens. especially now. it seemed as though the whole world had watched mr. blythe’s casket descend into the soil, and now the rain was fertilizing it. perhaps flowers would bloom on top of his grave. the entirety of the little town hoped so- anything to bring comfort to the blythe’s only son.

you’d seen gilbert at the funeral, features etched with sorrow, tears brimming at the corners of his eyes. but he’d looked resigned as well- putting on a strong face for those who could not. ruby had sobbed hysterically, as had rachel lynde, and even marilla cuthbert had shed a tear. normally, you would have talked to gilbert. you’d been over the day before mr. blythe had died, bringing with you a sweater you and your mother had knit together to help keep him warm. you’d known his health was declining, but it was even more heart wrenching seeing gilbert that way- expression unmoving, body stiff as he accepted the gift. you’d only had a moment with him before mr. blythe erupted into coughs again- a second in which gilbert’s mask slipped and you truly saw the fear plaguing his mind. you’d wished you could have said something to make it all better. but you hadn’t. you couldn’t.

and now you were on his porch, clutching a package of baking soda biscuits and a small posy of forget-me-nots in your hands. you were shivering from the cold rain, and you’d gotten soaked on the way over, but it was worth it. there seemed to be barely any movement in the gray house- you couldn’t spot any candles lit inside from the windows- and you were wondering if gilbert was even here when all of a sudden the door swung open and he appeared.

his expression was unreadable, brown eyes deep with emotion and seeded in sadness. “hi,” he said. “gil,” you breathed back.

after a moment of silence, the words came back to you. “these are for you,” you said, reaching out. your hands were shaking, and whether they were from nerves or the cold, gilbert couldn’t tell. he took the flowers and the parcel from your outstretched hands, almost unsure what to do with them. “they’re biscuits,” you said, mouth dry, trying to fill the quiet. “mother’s baking soda ones. you mentioned you liked them one time, and we were out of plum preserves, but i-”

“thank you,” gilbert said, and although it sounded slightly robotic, his words felt genuine. you looked at your shoes, unsure of what to say next. your parents had always taught you to say “i’m sorry for your loss” to someone grieving, but the phrase felt too unfamiliar. “i- i’ll leave you to it, then,” you stuttered, backing away from the door and turning to go. you didn’t want to intrude- even if he was your friend. because that’s what you were, right? friends. friends visited during difficult times. friends didn’t want to hug all the sadness out of him. but gilbert’s voice cracked when he spoke next, and you turned around.

“no,” he said clumsily. the words are rushed and jumbled from his mouth, and he stumbles over the next ones too. “please. you’re freezing, and soaking wet. come in.”

up until then, you’d hoped you didn’t look that bad. your straw hat had managed to protect the top of your head, but the rest of your hair was stringy and dripping over your shoulders. your cheeks were also flushed, and even in what should have been a moment focused on his own grief, gilbert found himself worrying that you’d catch pneumonia in this weather. he hadn’t expected anyone to visit today, especially not in a rainstorm.

seeing the concern in his eyes, you realized that walking all the way home in a thunderstorm was probably not such a good idea, so you stepped in cautiously per gilbert’s invitation. the house was warm, but everything seemed dim and gray. the door you knew led to mr. blythe’s bedroom was closed, and you could see gilbert’s eyes darting towards it as well, as if he were praying you wouldn’t say anything. gilbert set down the parcel of biscuits on the kitchen table and looked around for something.

“do you have a vase?” you asked quietly. “i can fill it up with water for you. i thought the forget-me-nots would bring a little light.”

gilbert nodded, but sucked in a breath. you turned to him with a questioning look. “the vase,” he said, voice dry. “it’s in his room. mrs. lynde brought some peonies over while he was still sick, and i didn’t take them out. he’s always hated peonies- he thinks they’re too big and bold. but he would’ve loved these.”

you lightly touched the small forget me not bouquet, felt the soft petals under your fingertips. “you don’t have to use a vase,” you replied softly. “a mug will do.” gilbert stood motionless in the middle of the kitchen, and you maneuvered around him, carefully filling up the pottery with water and placing the flowers in it.

he seemed rooted to the floor, even when he focused his gaze on the posy. your glance met his, and the sorrow was evident. gilbert hadn’t cried at the funeral- you’d never seen him cry. but now tears were brimming at the corners of his soft chocolate eyes, threatening to spill over, and in a moment your body overtook your mind and you had wrapped your arms around gilbert in a hug.

for a moment you regretted it. but then he was hugging you back, clutching your arms, holding onto you as if you were his lifeline. and in a way, you were. you could feel his hot breath on the back of your neck, hear his muffled cries. due to his height, your face was nestled in the crook of gilbert’s neck, and the two of you stayed like that, intertwined, for several long moments.

when gilbert finally pulled away, he knew that for better or for worse, you would be there for him until the day he died.

three. when you exchanged christmas presents in the snow.

to be honest, you hadn’t expected gilbert to come back from the steamer, or trinidad. you’d kept in close correspondence with him, saving the letters he sent you in a special drawer in your writing desk. you memorized his handwriting- the candid tone recalling his tales- the stamps on the envelope. but it still came as a surprise when he’d arrived back.

everything had been awkward at the start, but as soon as gilbert told you all the tales of his travels, you’d slowly slipped back into your old dynamic. there was still a line the both of you were toeing, trying to test out the boundaries between platonic and whatever the two of you were. when you’d met bash, he’d given you a quick wink and told you he’d heard all about you, but other than that, you were positive gilbert just wanted to stay friends. “he can’t love me,” you’d told the avonlea girls a few days prior. “the letters didn’t mean anything, he was just lonely.” but all of them agreed, even ruby- who had been zoning in on moody spurgeon ever since gilbert had left- that there was something more in his words, that it wasn’t all in your head.

and now it was christmas. gilbert, bash, and the shirley-cuthberts had all come for dinner (you’d grown close to anne the past year, and it had taken some convincing but since your father knew matthew so well, marilla had deemed it acceptable). the dinner had been lovely- your mother had brought out all the stops for gilbert and bash- roast goose, scalloped potatoes (island ones, of course), cranberry jelly, chicken pie, spiced gingerbread. flames crackled in the fireplace, biting gusts of wind rattled the windows, and blurred glittery ornaments adorned the pine tree in the center of your living room. dinner was over now, and the adults were gathered around the table and swapping stories of old. anne was there too, heavily engaged in a discussion with bash, but the social aspect was getting to be somewhat exhausting, so you quietly slipped out the back door to have a few moments alone.

in a rather unladylike fashion, you got up and sat on the fence by your house, snowflakes tickling your nose, watching the sun slowly begin to set. hues of pink and orange tinged the sky, and you were surprised you could even see it right now- the weather suggested a cloudy sky. the sound of snow crunching came from behind you, and to your surprise, gilbert was coming towards you. he had his brown cap and his red flannel on, and he looked so cozy that you somehow wished you were cuddled up in his arms. pushing the thought away, you greeted him as he came to sit on the fence beside you.

“enjoying the night so far?”

“quite,” gilbert replied. there was a sparkle in his eyes that danced, one that had been noticeably absent since his father died. you suspected it had something to do with bash’s uncle-like presence, and maybe anne’s too- it was well rumored that he’d fancied her for a while when they’d first met. gilbert looked off into the sunset, puffs of his breath materializing in the cold air, and you shivered involuntarily. he offered you his wool mittens wordlessly, and you gratefully put them on, although they were too big for you.

“oh,” you said, remembering something. he turned towards you, watching you intently as you pulled out a small package from your coat pocket. it was wrapped in festive paper, and you’d written his name on it in swooping calligraphy.

“for me?” gilbert asked. he carefully unfurled the wrapping paper to reveal a small leather bound book embossed with “the complete illustrated medical dictionary (pocket edition)” on the front. “i’ve had it since you left,” you said, breath catching in your throat. “i kept it for you. all this time.”

genuine joy shone in gilbert’s eyes. he flipped through the pages delightedly, marveling at the drawings inside. “thank you,” he grinned. “i actually have something for you too.”

breathlessly, you awaited your gift, snowflakes fluttering down and landing on you. they decorated your hair and its festive ribbon for one fleeting moment before melting, and you swore there was nothing as beautiful as this moment, exchanging gifts with gilbert in the snow, watching the sunset sweep across the dove-gray sky. finally, gilbert found what he was looking for in his pocket, and produced a tiny box.

“it doesn’t look like much,” he warned, “but i found it on my travels. i was waiting to give it to you. i wanted it to be the perfect moment.”

carefully opening the small box, you gasped as the lid revealed a necklace with a pendant. a small silver locket shaped like a heart, the kind one could put a photograph in. “gilbert,” you breathed. “this is- this is beautiful.”

and it was. the locket lay on a delicate chain, and it was engraved intricately, with elaborate designs. your mittened hands fumbled to take it out of the box and inspect it more, but gilbert took it from you with a small smile. “let me help you,” he murmured, and made to fasten it on you. you stood still, hyper aware of how close gilbert’s hands were to your face. his fingers brushed against the back of your neck, securing the necklace, and you caught yourself from flinching. you didn’t know what to say, except for thank you, so you repeated yourself again.

“a thing of beauty is a joy forever,” gilbert quoted, somewhat uncharacteristically. “keats,” he added after a moment, referencing the poet he’d read the phrase from. “i wanted you to have something to remember me by.”

“to remember you by?” you laughed. “what, are you going on the steamer again?”

he could tell the thought sobered you, so he shook his head, shrugging. “no. i just think…you’re a wonderful girl. the loveliest in avonlea.”

“i think you’re wonderful too,” you said shyly, which was about as many words as you could manage right now. the loveliest girl in avonlea? goodness.

the sun had almost set by now, and the sky was turning dark- a good cover for hiding the red tint spreading across your face. “we should go back inside,” you said hurriedly, and the two of you made your way over to the door. you stopped before opening it, basking in the glow of the oil lamp on the porch.

“gilbert, i-”

overcome by sudden anxiety, you handed back his warm mittens. “thank you,” you said, the words lingering on your tongue. “for everything.”

quickly, so fast you almost missed it, gilbert leaned down, brushed a stray wisp of hair away, and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “merry christmas,” he said simply. and then, the two of you went back inside, as if nothing had happened at all.

as soon as you entered, bash noticed the locket and smirked. gilbert shot him a warning look, lest he say anything. the two of you immersed yourself in separate conversations- you with anne, him with marilla and your mother, while matthew silently observed your father and bash discuss politics. but you kept stealing glances at each other as if you were speaking a secret language that only the two of you knew, and each time it filled you with comfort.

it was a cold christmas, but you felt the warmest you had been in a while– and, as luck would have it, so did gilbert.

four. when you climbed a tree.

and so summer rolled around again, fading into august. university loomed on the horizon. childhood was over- gone were the days of butterflies, bumblebees, and scraped knees. yet you could pretend, and so you did.

the soft salt breeze tickled your face, sending a pleasant feeling down your spine. you were with gilbert- on his farm, in the orchard. it was just the two of you- most of avonlea were in charlottetown for the island county fair, granting you the opportunity to do whatever you wanted, since no one was around to see.

so you took advantage of that. no more were the stolen glances, the sneaking around, your only physical touch with gilbert being brushed hands- and even then you’d both deemed it risky. neither of you wanted word to get around yet. sure, there had been rumors and some of your best friends knew (only the ones you were sure wouldn’t spread anything around). but here, now, the world was your oyster. and the two of you soaked it up blissfully.

you were lying on the grass with your head in gilbert’s lap, weaving a flower crown as he read a book- an old poetry collection ms stacy had lent him. the clouds were glorious fluffy shapes in the blue sky, and you pointed them out to gilbert every once in a while. your fingers deftly twined the daisies and their stems, finally tying them all together in a knot, creating a perfect circlet, and setting it teasingly on gilbert’s dark hair.

he smirked, leaving it on. “made it for me?”

“a pretty crown for a pretty boy,” you replied, smiling from your position in his lap. he was solid, sturdy, his hand resting securely on your waist. you felt safe with your body close to his, arms and legs intertwined. and he was pretty- “the prettiest boy in avonlea,” you said, mimicking his words to you from last christmas. he laughed and set the book down, taking the flower crown off and resting it gently on your hair. “it suits you,” gilbert said softly, and he was right.

the two of you stayed like that for a while, absorbing each other’s presence. you charted the rare freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose as if they were constellations, tracing them with the tip of your finger. it tickled him, and he smiled down at you. he finally returned to his book- “i want to read you something”- and blissfully, you obliged, settling down to listen.

“i almost wish we were butterflies and lived but three summer days- three such days with you i could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain,” gilbert read from the poetry collection in his lap, a break from the constant medical anatomy books he was usually seen carrying around. you recognized the fragment of poetry- “keats,” you said, “just like what you said to me last winter. when you gave me the necklace.”

a smile tugged at gilbert’s lips, and you pulled out the locket from under the neckline of your dress to show him. “i’ll never take it off,” you promised him, right then and there. “it’s like a little piece of you with me, all the time.”

“you better not,” he teased. “cost me a fortune, that one. even more than all of those romance books i’m always secretly buying you in town.”

you sat up and shoved him jokingly, tousling his dark curls to purposely peeve him. gilbert’s hair wasn’t tidy all that often, but he’d let it slip once that he always tried to make it look nice for you. struck by a sudden flash of inspiration, you jumped up. “let’s go pick some apples.”

the blythe orchard was infamous for their strawberry apples, the only place in avonlea where they were available. contrary to popular belief, this was simply a variant of apple, and not a strawberry hybrid. all too happy to appease you, gilbert took your hand and led you to the best tree on the land. most of the other boughs were still blooming with apple blossoms, but this tree was different.

he pointed to a low-hanging branch, one blessed with red fruit. “my father always picked the first apple on this tree in august,” he told you, tone contemplative and wistful. “he said this was the tree he kissed my mother under for the first time. he thought if the first apple of the season was picked here, at this tree, it brought the harvest luck.”

nostalgia flickered in gilbert’s eyes, and you knew he was missing his father more than usual. “let’s do it, then,” you said, finding your voice, fingers delicately intertwined with his- giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “we’ll each pick one. in honor of him. a new tradition.”

the words you’d spoken may have been simplistic, but to gilbert they meant the world. without his father, it had been so incredibly difficult at first to do anything- carry on old traditions, much less creating new ones. but here you were, by his side, looking up at him with adoring eyes, and giving him the opportunity to heal and grow. gilbert knew he could never put into words how much it truly meant to him.

you let him go first, watching him scamper up the tree like a squirrel. he seemed a boy again, plucking an apple from the highest bough and descending nimbly. when you started climbing, you found your footing easily, but doubt wracked your mind- imagine the horrors if mrs. lynde and her posse heard about this, climbing trees like a chimpanzee! - and so you opted for a lower branch, reaching it deftly. you reached for an apple and held it high victoriously. some hint of pride shone in gilbert’s eyes.

“to making new traditions,” he said- a toast with the notable absence of glasses brimming with champagne. “to making new traditions,” you repeated, and in that moment, you in the tree and him on the ground, you swore you could see hints of a future- one with new traditions and old traditions, little feet running around and everything in between. today was flawless.

and it would’ve been perfect, except for the sound of the branch cracking under your weight. you weren’t too high up in the tree, but inevitably, you landed on the ground, a crumpled heap of petticoats and ribbons, crying out softly upon impact.

you’d never seen gilbert this way, in ‘doctor mode’, simply put. he was immediately beside you, voice laced with concern, checking you over for scrapes and bruises. you were fine, mostly- just a little shaken up and scared, save for the red-hot throbbing in your wrist. the pain didn’t exactly warrant crying, but you weren’t used to the funny feeling, and tears welled in your waterline anyways. gilbert, telling you to take deep breaths, helped you sit up.

he’d noticed straightaway the way you held you wrist, cradling it slightly away from your body, and murmuring words of comfort, he started prodding your knuckles, gently examining the swollen area. you winced, but it wasn’t too bad. “i don’t think it’s broken,” gilbert said finally, deeming it a sprain after careful inspection. “but let’s get you back home. i have some bandages- i’ll wrap it just in case.”

tears threatened to spill over again as the two of you walked from the orchard to his home. gilbert noticed, and stopped. “hey,” he said softly. “it’s okay. i’ll make you some herbal tea. that should help with the pain a bit.”

“it’s not that,” you made out, a small pout forming on your lips. “we were having such a wonderful day, gil, and i ruined it all. i’m sorry.”

“whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said, his brow furrowing. “you didn’t ruin anything. you got hurt, it happens. and we have the rest of the afternoon to be together- i’ll tell you what, how about once we get back to the farmhouse, we’ll make the most of it, okay? we can still have some fun.”

a wobbly smile formed on your lips, and you nodded. gilbert cupped your face gently, and looked into your eyes. “i love you,” he said, voice nervous but firm. “just let me take care of you.”

your heart caught in your throat. he’d never said that before. contrary to the rumors, he hadn’t even kissed you properly yet. “i love you too,” you whispered, voice hoarse. and before you could think about it too much, you went up on your tiptoes and pressed a small kiss to gilbert’s lips.

they were soft and sweet and filled with promise and hope, and he leaned into it, your bodies closer than they’d ever been. his hands ghosted the small of your back, your hips, your shoulders, and it felt like home. when you finally pulled apart, there was a twinkle in his eye you’d never seen before. a twinkle of something called joy.

when you got back to the farmhouse, he finally settled you on the couch, comfortably sipping a cup of tea and trying wholeheartedly to braid your hair. he’d always wanted to learn, and since you were currently unable to do it yourself, he deemed it the perfect opportunity. it made you laugh- his fingers, usually nimble and clever, were clumsy in your locks, and the braid you ended up with was slightly sloppy, but filled with adoration. a realization fluttered through your mind, and set its claws into your future. you loved gilbert- gilbert loved you- and though you wouldn’t say it out loud, at least not for several years, he would make a wonderful husband.

five. when you said “i do”.

the spring skies were blue today- flowers were blooming- grass was green. “a lovely day for a wedding,” mrs. lynde had told marilla that morning, and all of avonlea agreed.

you were walking down the aisle in a few minutes, getting ready in reverence. a delicate white veil lay on your hair, the one passed down through your family for almost a century. the lace dress fit you perfectly, intricate embroidery accentuating your waist. your mother’s simple pearl earrings adorned your ears, glowing in the morning light. in your hands were a bouquet- a single spray of forget-me-nots, periwinkle blue, an ode to gilbert’s father, who had loved them so. and at the same time, a tribute to your past together, that awful rainy day after the funeral filled with grief and tears and emotion, yet what had brought you closer together. something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue. all was well. you were ready.

the springtime realm of gilbert’s yard was immersed in devotion. petals decorated the grass down the aisle. your dearest friends and family observed, and the wedding itself passed in the blink of an eye. there was not a dry eye during the vows, and gilbert’s words were even more poetic than you had ever hoped. he promised to love you- to care for you- in sickness and in health, to be your rock. it was not the fanciest wedding- there were no messes of tulle and satin and roses- but it was yours, and you couldn’t be happier.

you were husband and wife. the dawn had come anew. and that night, when gilbert fell asleep watching you breathe, finding solace in the rise and fall of your chest, he knew without a doubt that he would do it all over again.

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maxillness · 10 days

Text

Ocean Eyes || SV5 x Reader

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, implied age gap, bisexual!seb, Seb used to have (romantic) feelings for Lewis

Wordcount: 2.2k

Don’t ask me why this is set during Christmas break. I don’t even have the excuse I wrote it in December; I wrote it in February

Can we also just take a second to appreciate how cute this gif😭🫶

Tag list: @e-nonsense @babyprofessorsharkpalace @aexitizen-ln4

It was snowing. Quite a lot actually. But it was expected when you were this close to Christmas

She hated the snow. It wasn’t really her, but she had to go out with the dog anyway

She stood on the porch, watching the dog play in the snow, trying to catch the snow flakes

She had been at her parents house for about a week now, and she knew they were close with the neighbour, but she had yet to see him

She figured that maybe he was visiting family and wasn’t home, but she couldn’t know for sure

Just as she thought about what he might look like, she heard a door open to her right. She looked over. When you talk about the devil

“Oh, hey” He smiled over at her “You must be Y/N” He said walking closer to the fence separating the two yards

“Yeah, I am. You must be Sebastian” She answered, walking over to him

“I am. Nice to finally meet you” They shook hands “You’re parents has spoken so much about you”

He was pretty. His smile was bright, making small wrinkles appear in the corner of his eyes- his eyes. They were the most drop dead, gorgeous, ocean blue eyes. Never had she seen such pretty eyes

“They have? Hope it’s only the good stuff” She chuckled nervously, slightly embarrassed

“They say it in a way where can only think it’s good, if that’s any relief” He said, smiling back at her

His ears and nose, as well as his cheeks had started turning red from the coldness of the air, but it only made him so much prettier

A loud bark cut her out of her trance “Are you done?” She asked as she had turned around “Alright” She sighed “I better go. Nice meeting you”

“Nice meeting you too” He said before they parted and she went into the house again

“Saw you were talking with Sebastian” Her mother said, sipping her tea when she walked into the house

“Oh. Um, yeah” She said, taking off her coat and shoes and placed them neatly on their spot

“What’d you think?” She said, trying to hide her smirk behind her cup

“He’s… Nice. Don’t know enough about him” She went into the living room, slumping down on the couch and returned to her phone

“Good to know” Her mother whispered, taking a place in the living room as well

“I think I baked too much” She said, looking at the verity of cookies on the kitchen counter

“I promised Sebastian you would come over with some” Her father said passing her in the kitchen

“What? Why?” She asked, looking confused at him

“Because he doesn’t have anyone to bake for him” He answered before walking out of the kitchen

“Maybe he’ll invite you in for a cup of tea” Her mother said not looking away from her book

“Mom! Have you realised how much older than me he is?” She said, drawing her mom’s attention to her

“So what? Age is just a number, beside he thinks you’re pretty” She said, closing her book and putting it on the counter

“I’ll walk over with some cookies, but I won’t stay for long, okay? Deal?” She said, looking directly into her mother eyes

“Okay. Deal. Give him some of each, okay?” She said before leaving the kitchen

“Cookies?” She said the moment the door opened

“Hello to you too, miss y/n” Sebastian said, quite startled by the sudden words

“Sorry… Hi” She said, her cheeks lightly heating up

“Thank you” He said, putting his hand under the box of she had in her hands “Wanna come in?” He asked, opening the door more

She thought about the deal she made with her mom but decided to screw it

“Sure. Thank you” She said, taking a step into the small hallway

She took off her coat and boots as Sebastian walked to the kitchen to put the cookies away “Tea or coffee?” He asked when she stepped in the kitchen

“Whatever you’re having” She smiled, fidgeting with her fingers behind her back

“Okay. Just go to the living room and I’ll be in in a minute” She did as she was told

She looked around the pictures around her. They were pretty. It was mostly of mountains. Some where with who she assumed to be family or friends

One sparked her interest. She walked over to the shelf where it sat. It was an old picture. 2010 maybe. It was Sebastian and another guy

“That was a long time ago” He said walking up beside her “Here” He gave her the cup. Honey

“Sorry. Shouldn’t have-“ “No, it’s fine” She looked at the picture a moment longer before she opened her mouth again

“Who is he?” She sipped on her tea, hissing slightly at the burning water “You look like good friends”

“Lewis. We’re still friends” He sighed sipping his own tea

“Why’d you say it like that?” She asked confused, eyebrows knitted together

“The day that picture was taken, I told myself I was gonna tell him about my feelings towards him. I never did, but sometimes I wonder what would’ve happen if I did” He chuckled the last part, turning around and sat on the couch

She didn’t say anything, but she sat down on the couch turning her body slightly towards him

“I’m not gay, if that’s what you’re assuming” He said, turning his head towards her

God, were his eyes beautiful like this

“No, no. I’m not assuming anything, not against it either” That seamed to relieve some anxiety off his shoulders

It wasn’t an awkward silence they were left in

“Tell me about yourself” She said, sipping on her tea “You know practically everything about me, thank you parents, but I know nothing about you”

He agreed, and he seamed like he hated talking about himself, but he didn’t tell her that, she could see it in his eyes as he spoke

“It really isn’t that interesting” He chuckled, looking into his lost empty cup

“Not that interesting? You used to be in a sport where you risked your life every time you went. That seems interesting for a few lifetimes” They had somehow both ended up on the floor during their conversation

“A few lifetimes? That seems like a lot” He chuckled

“It’s a life risking Sport, of course it’s a lot” She said, scooting closer to him if that was even possible at this point

“You’re life is interesting too” He said, trying to get the topic off of him

“Not as much as yours” At this point, they were practically sitting in each others laps

They fell into a comfortable silence after that. She was lost in the blues of his eyes

“You’re eyes are so pretty” She said, not expecting the deep blush that landed on his cheeks

“T-thank you” He said flustered, looking into his hands in his lap “You’re p-pretty, too”

It was cute when he stuttered. She hooked her finger under his chin, lifting his head upwards again

“Thank you” She loved the way she made him blush like he did “You’re even more pretty like this”

That set off something inside of him. He pushed her hand away, pulling her in by her neck, smashing their lips together

He pulled her into his lap when she kissed back. Her arms went around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer

She pulled away, almost gasping for air. His blow pupils ruined the view she had of the ocean in his eyes

She drove back to his lips, but a little softer. She flicked her tongue over his bottom lip and he parted his lips immediately, letting her tongue into him

Maybe it was because it still lingered on her own tongue, but he tasted like honey. Sweet honey. Not like the shit kind you can buy at any grocery store, but a good one

He groaned into her mouth, feeling the way she was exploring every corner of his mouth. His hands were tighter on her hips, sensing shivers over her body

“It’s getting late” She mumbled into his mouth “I should probably go home” But she didn’t pull away from the kiss

“Mhm… You probably should” Neither did he pull away, he instead pulled her sweater over her head, throwing it on the ground

“Bedroom” The kiss had started getting sloppy and out of rhythm

He only shortly nodded while picked her up without problems, her legs hanging around his waist

He effortlessly carried her into his bedroom, softly placing her on the bed without breaking the kiss

He only broke the kiss to start trailing over her jaw and down to her neck, drawing out a string of whimpers from her

“Off” She barely said anything as she started tugging at his shirt “Please” He finally obliged and pulled his shirt off

Her hands went to his chest the second she could, feeling his skin under her palms. Her hands started wandering as he went back to sucking on her skin

She started bucking her hips upwards, wanting to feel him against her. His hands went to her back, unhooking her bra, pulling it off of her

He looked into her eyes as he placed a gentle kiss between her breasts. He pulled away before his hands went to her pants

He unbuttoned and zipped them down before slowly pulling them down her legs, pulling her socks with them

His fingertips felt like feathers when he pulled down her panties, kissing her legs on the way

He went up, spreading her legs before placing light kisses on the inside of her thighs. She whined when he passed the spot she needed him

“Sebastian, please” She bucked her hips, hoping to get closer to his mouth

He gave into her, pushing his tongue through her wet folds, grazing over her clit, earning him a moan

“Fuck, please! Keep going!” She threaded her hand in his long curls, pulling him closer again

He chuckled, but obliged. Bending her knees, holding around her thighs, he drove his tongue back over her clit, flickering it

She tried squeezing her legs together, but he managed to hold the outwards before she squeezed around his head

“Keep them apart, sweetheart” She whimpered at the nickname, trying so hard to spread her legs to give him access “Good girl”

One of his hands went towards her entrance, teasing her before pushing two of his fingers inside

She whimpered as her back arched off of the bed and he eyes rolled into the back of her head behind closed eyes

He started pumping in and out of her with a slow pace before finding a good rhythm he could work with

He curled his fingers, hitting just the right spot inside her making her almost screw out in pleasure

“At this volume, I think your parents might hear” He smirked, sucking lightly on her inner thighs

Her body started shaking slightly “Sebastian… Fuck. Feels so good” Her back started hurting from the position she was in

“God, you sounds so good for me. Fucking pretty moans” His tongue went back to her clit, putting pressure on the bundle of nerves

“Seb-fuck! Stop, stop” He immediately pulled out of her, looking with worry up at her

“What’s wrong?” He asked, his thumbs circling the skin on her hips

“Felt too good. Wouldn’t… Wouldn’t want to come without you” He chuckled at her words, but happily got out of his pants and boxers

He got in between her legs, pulling them around his hips, lining himself up with her entrance

He pushed in just the tip before slowly pushing all the way in, letting her slowly adjust to his size

“Move, please” He did so, holding her hips as he slowly moved in and out of her

“Fuck, you feel so good around me” He breathed out, sounding almost like a moan, but not quite

“Filling me up so good” She whimpered, looking up into his eyes, her hands clasped around his forearms, holding herself steady

If she knew that those fucking pretty ocean blue eyes would be looking at her like this, she would’ve visited her parents sooner

“Fuck, I’m gonna come, please” She moaned loud when he started hitting the spot that made her see stars over and over again

He could feel his own orgasm growing in the pit of his stomach “Come for me, Schatzi”

His accent sent her over the edge, her whole body trembling with such force that just looking at her sent him over the edge as well, filling her up with his cum

“Fuck, you’re even prettier like this” He chuckled, seeing her fucked out state as he pulled out of her

He got them both cleaned up before he tugged them both under the sheets

They barely got a moment of silence before her phone rang. It was tugged into her jeans somewhere on the floor

“I’ll get it” He said, seeing her exhausted state “It’s your mom” He chuckled

“Just let it ring through” She said, turning over onto her stomach

#smut #formula one #Sebastian vettel #Sebastian vettel smut #Sebastian vettel x reader #Sebastian vettel x reader smut #Spotify

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