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sepherinaspoppies · 6 months

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hunger - michael gavey x reader

summary: the things Michael does for a crunchie bar.

warnings: 18+, MDNI, mentions of oral m receiving, oral f receiving, fingering, overstimulation, f squirting.

wc: 2,366

masterlist

notes: my first time writing for Michael lol. yes I did watch the movie and im still appalled by it (too much dick). like all of us, I wish Ewan had more screen time on this cause I felt pretty bad for Michael. he just wanted a friend 😩. I plan on writing another fic about him but when? idk I have too many wips

She uses the pad of her thumb to collect the line of cum that had trickled down the corners of her lips. Bringing the digit back into her mouth to suck off the pearly white liquid, all while seductively gazing at the disheveled boy that sat on the edge of her bed.

Michael let out a breathy moan, feeling his softened cock rousing back to life as he watched her throat swallow every bit of him again. She hums at the taste, salty with a hint of caramel from all those fucking crunchy bars he devours everyday when she’d seem him in class.

She brings herself up from the floor, her knees starting to recuperate from the carpet digging amongst her skin. Standing, she begins to thread her fingers through Michael’s soft sandy hair, appreciating the silkyness of it and the faintest little whines that emitted from his lips before tugging his head back rather abruptly.

“Would you like a taste of me, Gavey?” She asks, even though she knows the answer. It was why they were here, settled at her dorm.

Michael nods zestfully, his eyes trailing to her covered core as if he was already undressing her with his eyes. She grabs his hand and doesn’t fail to notice it was a bit clammy with nerves, and it almost made her feel slightly bad about continuing but the way his blue eyes darkened when she directed his hand toward the hem of her floral dress, made her think differently.

His fingers work at lifting up her dress. A deep shade of crimson floods his perfectly sculpted cheeks as he awkwardly and neatly folded her dress on the side of her nightstand. She giggled at his adorableness, she wasn’t as gentle as he was with her clothing. After, when they made their deal about what they wanted from each other, she clawed out his clothes and scattered them somewhere across her room, having no regard for them.

Once she made quick work at getting rid of her bra, Michael’s eyes widened in amazement as if had just received the perfect gift he always wanted. His fingers twitched, longing to touch what was right in front of him but she knew deep down he was holding himself back.

“I-um- I don’t know what to do” he admits sheepishly.

She knows this, having it heard and confirmed by Felix and Oliver when they were at the pub with a group of their friends.

She gives him a reassuring smile before straddling his lap, “I’ll teach you”

Michael’s face reddened even more if it was possible. His gaze lingered on her lips, then a back up to her eyes giving her a silent look for permission to kiss her lips to which she nodded fervently.

He wastes no time to crash his lips to hers, leaning his head forward to deepen the kiss. She moans, unsure if Michael knew how to kiss but even then she was willing to teach him if it need be. She moves her knees to get closer to Michael, her bare breasts scraping tightly against his chest as she wraps her arms around his neck desperately needing him to be closer than they already were.

She whines softly into the kiss as she swipes her tongue over Michael’s bottom lip. Michael moans in response, parting his lips open to let her gain access and she seizes the opportunity to dance her tongue against his own. Michael furrows his brows in concentration, taking mental notes on how exactly she liked to be kissed by the way he strokes his tongue synchronously with hers and the soft little moans that follow out of her lips.

She pulls away, a hint of chocolate and mint lingering on her lips, as she yearns for more of him between her legs. She almost wants to continue kissing him as she watches Michael’s blue eyes slowly flutter open and his lower lip curling into a pout, mewling at the loss of contact.

“We can kiss more after, if you want. Right now, I need you to return the favor” She pants, out of breath. Michael mends his pout into an eager smile that makes her chuckle. For such an arrogant know-it-all he sure had a way of being cute.

She lifts herself up by the help of Michael’s shoulders, crawling over the middle of her bed to rest her back against the duvet. “Ready?” She asks, wiggling her brows enthusiastically, already feeling giddy deep in her stomach.

Michael nods as he slowly adjusted to sit between her legs, his curious eyes never leaving her damp covered center, his pink tongue sweeping over his lips quickly practically already tasting her.

“Take of my panties, Gavey”

She hears Michael audibly whimper as his quivering fingers hook to the waistband of her underwear, sliding it off and causing her to release a shudder over the coolness of his fingertips.

Michael brushed his fingers against the garment of her underwear, studying it before he brought it to his nose, deeply inhaling the juices that were caused by being in the mere presence of him, from having him inside her mouth, around her hands, his kiss…

There was something so hot and erotic about it, seeing the guy who always picks on her for not being as smart as he was, sniffing her juices like he was a starved man. She moaned at his actions even more so when he quickly bent over the bed and stuffed her underwear into one of the pockets of his cargo shorts, probably saving it for later.

She bites back a protest. Those were her favorite pair but she supposes she can spare them for now.

Michael resumed his previous position in between her thighs. This time his face laid just centimeters away from her glistening core. She can feel his hot ragged breath fanning over the little patch of curls above her cunt, and very faintly she can hear Michael murmur “christ” under his breath.

She props herself on her elbows, “Give me your hand” Michael releases another shaky breath before he allows her to direct his hand to cup her mound.

“Do you feel how wet I am for you, Michael?”

Michael groans, desperate for some friction he grinds his cock on the bed. He can feel it. He can feel his hand soaked with her arousal. Michael wants to pull back and lick everybit clean off his hand.

“That’s- that’s my clit” She informs Michael with a strain voice as she runs his index finger through her folds. Michael stares at her engorged bud, having remembered studying it from his anatomy class and how it brought him great curiosity. Now, he was face to face with it and nothing could prepare how much excitement it brought him.

“The clit is very important. It’s where most of our pleasure comes from. Just pay adequate attention to it and gently circle it-”

She isn’t sure of the noises that leave her mouth, only feeling Michael beginning to circle her bud in a manner where not even most guys she’s been with have done so. It’s unhurried, unsure and gentle but it’s enough for her to feel waves of pleasure up her spine and her toes curling against the duvet.

“Oh! Michael” She moans, arching her back and unintentionally caging Michael’s head between her thighs.

Michael pulls his finger quickly like lightning away from her bud, his face showing a bit of concern. “What? What’s wrong? Was this not to your liking? I can try-”

“No, no. You’re doing great, really. I-I just, well, I like it and I meant it in a good way” She reassures him with a smile, a slight warmth shoots to her cheeks.

God, was she blushing at Michael fucking Gavey? Fuck. This wasn’t supposed to be part of the plan or the agreement!

“Oh, I see” Michael smirks before lowering his head, “Can I use my tongue?” She almost wants to desperately scream ‘YES’ and grind herself against his face but she instead nods and that was enough of a response for Michael as he flattens the tip of his tongue where her clit was.

Her back arches again, instinctively, feeling Michael’s tongue circle her bud and sweep through her folds all while he keeps his lustful gaze on her, watching the way her face contorts into different forms of pleasure and the audible moans and gasps he hears when he flicks his tongue in a rhythm he notes she likes.

Michael soon also finds himself moaning at the way she tastes. It was a flavor so sweet. Sweeter than the chocolate of his crunchy bars he so religiously ate. How could he ever tire of her taste?

Her chest begins to heave, her stomach feeling fuzzy and tight. She was nearing her first orgasm in weeks.

But then suddenly something unexpected happens. Michael hooks her thighs under his arms, bringing her cunt closer to his face. His red and swollen lips closed in around her clit, tenderly sucking. His actions along with the vibrations of his moans, sends hot shocks of pleasure that she feels the band in her stomach about to snap.

“Michaelllll. I’m about to-to cum” She cries, feeling orgasm seconds away from releasing.

“Really?” Michael mumbles with an exciting look in his eyes. She hums, her hands no longer fisting the duvet but instead gripping Michael’s hair.

Michael continues to lap at her core at the same rhythm he notices she likes, working his tongue quicker until he feels the meaty flesh of her thighs close in on his head and tremble.

“Michael! Yes! Yes!!!” She chants so loudly that both her and Michael know everyone in the dorm floor would listen. She couldn’t bring herself to care about everyone listening. The genius math nerd in all of Oxford just gave her the best head in the world.

Michael drinks in her release and this time he is able to pinpoint what flavor she reminds him of.

Honey.

She mewls softly. Her body feels weak and tired like she had just ran the longest marathon in her life. “So good, Michael. You did such a good job” She praises, giving the cunt-drunk man between her thighs a lazy smile as she brushes the damp hair away from his face.

A blush creeps into Michael’s cheeks, a sense of pride fills his senses. He knows he wants more now that she let him taste her. Michael supposes she could give him another taste to satisfy his hunger. She was right there for the taking. Why not?

“What are you doing?” She curiously asks, peering over as Michael dips his head again making her eyes widen in amazement.

“Michael, wait. We agreed just… Oh fuck!” Her back arches, hands gripping her breasts and a series of gasps leave her lips as Michael redoubles his efforts and works his tongue at an incredible speed that makes tears leave the corners of her eyes over the sensitivity.

Michael was getting skilled at this. Too skilled with tongue.

The thin metal of Michael’s glasses dug at her thighs, his face tightly pressed at her core as he growled devotedly. Had she just accidentally created a feral animal? Fuck.

This time she feels herself ascending closer to her peak more than usual. Her legs involuntarily begin to tremble and her mind feels fuzzy as she has no more strength to fight the waves of pleasure Michael was awarding.

“Michael” She cries, unsure why.

Michael, however, lost in his pleasure instinctively comes up with an idea. He unhooks one of his hands around her thigh and brings one of his fingers toward her entrance, plunging inside her walls in and out and curses at the way she clenches around his finger.

“No, no, no. Stay” Michael mumbles as her hips buckle away from his ministrations.

This was all getting too much for her. But she does what she’s told and stays and her body violently trembles one last time until she feels the pressure deep in her belly explode and her vision going absolutely blank.

Has she died and gone to heaven? Cause fuck!

She doesn’t seem to remember how to breathe or pick up the surprise yelps from Michael. She was absolutely drained and spent.

“Are-are you okay down there?” She asks, panting, gathering whatever strength she had left to peer down between her thighs. Michael’s round blue eyes look up at her in shock. His face, coated with much of her juices. Even his glasses had not been spared. A palm sized wet patch soaked her bedding.

Did Michael fucking Gavey make me squirt?

“I’m sorry that's the first time that ever happened to me. Wait here, let me get a towel to clean you up” She stammers as she begins to crawl out of her bed but Michael’s hand wraps around her ankle, preventing her.

“No need. I quite liked it” He blinks as cleans his face with his fingers, licking away her arousal like the embarrassing thing she did not happen.

He plops himself next to her on the bed, landing with a heavy thud. “So” Michael trails with a smirk, his head resting on his elbow. “Did I earn my reward?”

She scoffs playfully. How could she forget their deal?

She was walking to her class earlier on the day when she spotted Michael pouding and cursing at a vending machine for eating the last cash he had on him. She evilly laughed at him before she nonchalantly walked over to the vending machine and purchased the last two crunchy bars while waving it on his face. Truthfully, she did not find chocolate as pleasing as he did. Michael had scoffed before he followed her like a lost puppy, telling her he’d pay her back the next day. A wicked plan forged inside her head in a way he could pay her back.

“Here” She slams the two golden bars against his chest after she retrieved them from her bag. Michael smiles and mutters a ‘thanks’ as he unwraps his treat and brings her body to rest against his chest.

general taglist: @dreaming-for-an-escape @marvelescvpe @omgisrdj @ramsip @silentf @thenightmistress @dixie-elocin @namelesslosers @gigi-panecillo @laureeedn @watercolorskyy @seabasscevans @kittendoll05 @fullmoonworshipper @smayhem @bunbunbl0gs @summerposie @dusicapopilic @tulips2715 @kckt88 @chaoticwinnercupcake @imsoshygirl

empty is who I couldn't tag sorry :/

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#michael gavey x reader #michael gavey x you #michael gavey smut #michael gavey fanfic #michael gavey #ewan mitchell

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theorphicangel · 4 months

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#1 “you can stay as long as you want.” | miguel x reader

the boyfriend series with miguel o’hara. | series of fluff, angst and smut with bf! miguel.

cw: none, fluffy.

“I still don’t understand how, for the entire movie, he doesn’t catch on that she’s the killer?”

“I know right, it’s stupid.” Miguel hums a a re-run of a classic slasher movie played on the television in front of you.

It was a late Friday night, the both of you were too exhausted from the past week of work to head out for a proper date. So instead you and Miguel settled for a movie marathon at his apartment.

Empty boxes of your favorite takeaway lay disheveled on his coffee table in front of the couch, your stomach fully satisfied with the meal. It doesn’t take much to get your dopamine running, you think. Him and food was all you needed to get yourself happy.

“I think if this shit played out in real life, me and you would have caught onto her in no time.” You note, as the killer on the screen preys onto their next victim.

“Oh, one hundred percent, we’re a dream team.” Miguel stretches out his exhausted limbs, a silent yawn following from his mouth. And as he does so, an arm magically ends up around your shoulder, pulling you in closer to his body.

“Wow. Smooth O’hara, real smooth.”

He smirks. “I try my best, mi amor.”

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence as the movie plays on. Having watched the movie before, you know what’s to come as the rest of the film comes as a total cliche. You can’t help but let your mind wander. Simultaneously, your hands become restless, fingertips fiddling with each other.

“I should head home soon.” You announce, keeping your eyes on the screen ahead.

Miguel hums, his fingertips tracing circles on your arms ever so gently.

You should head home but you don’t really want to. The thought of getting up from this couch is a headache in itself and the thought of driving home at the hour with traffic and dealing with god-awful drivers makes you want to bury yourself into the earth. You really don’t want to head home, but you probably should.

Through the shadow of your expression, Miguel can read the exhaustion on your face. As well as you, he really doesn’t want you to leave. Not when the two of you are so comfortable like this.

“Hey.” Miguel whispers, causing you to turn your head to look at him. “You can stay as long as you want.” He says. “You know that right?”

Your heart swells immediately at his words, a spark of love set off in your body like a sudden firework.

“I know.” You smile before continuing. “But I probably shouldn’t, I have tons of work to catch up and briefs and—”

“But I want you to.”

Miguel doesn’t mean interrupt your work ethic but for the past week he’s been yearning to see you. It’s hard enough that you both have busy lifestyles, meaning that finding time to see each other is rare. Not to mention how far you live away from him. It’s moments like this, when you have to leave, that Miguel just wants to be totally selfish.

So that’s what he’s doing. Being selfish for once.

“If you’re sure.” you confirm.

“I’m always sure.”

You snort to yourself at his comment. “Then why’d you take fifteen minutes deciding what to order earlier?” You nudge your elbow into his side gently, teasing him further.

Miguel rolls his eyes, now more at ease to wrap his large arms around you. “You’re a little alborotadora, aren’t you?” [troublemaker]

“Maybe.” You respond with a playful tone, adding a kiss on his cheek. Your hand moves up to cup his cheek. The action is soft and tender, as if he were the most delicate thing in the world. And you knew he was, especially when he let you into the most intricate parts of his soul. Something that he rarely gave people permission to do.

“Okay,” you murmur. “I’ll stay.”

reblogs are much appreciated! thank you for reading and thank you for being here!

#angel writes #miguel o hara x reader #bf!miguel #atsv miguel #atsv headcanons #spiderman atsv #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #spiderman astv #spiderman 2099 x you #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara drabbles

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ddejavvu · 2 years

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Lost and Found - Eddie Munson x Reader (Part 2) | Part 1

WC: 7.0K / navi / preview / request

Summary: Eddie is happy to teach you everything he knows about DnD, he just wishes you weren't so goddamn distracting

Contents/Warnings: eddie n wayne, besties forever <3 very very fluffy lots of yearning and ridiculously cheesy moments, lovesick!eddie, reader wears a skirt and eddie's hellfire shirt from part 1, suggestive material, but still minor-friendly (part three will not be)

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

“Christ on a cracker, son,” Wayne swears, nearly pushed to the ground as Eddie slams the trailer door open, “Calm down.”

“Sorry Wayne!” Eddie barely takes a second to breathe before he flies through the space, feet pounding on the matted carpet of the trailer as he races to his bedroom.

“What’s the rush?” Wayne is well aware of his nephew’s recreational habits, as well as his business endeavors, and shudders to think that there might be some drug-crazed lunatic after the boy.

But Eddie pops his wide-eyed face out from his bedroom only seconds later, shirt and pants torn off to leave him in his boxers as he darts for the shower, “There’s a girl coming over.”

That’s a new one. Wayne has heard a few feminine voices outside the trailer before, when they’re out of stock and need replenishing, but Eddie never showers for them. He probably should, Wayne always tells the boy that if he stinks any worse he’ll have to move out, but he’s never shown an interest until now.

“And,” Wayne peers into the bathroom, seeing Eddie frantically combing out his hair, the plastic nearly snapping under the pressure he’s putting on it, “This is a special girl?”

“I- I don’t know,” Eddie huffs, his crazed panic still alive as he whirls around the bathroom for a clean towel, “Sort of. I don’t really know her yet.”

“Y’know ‘er enough to care.” Wayne prompts him, and Eddie deflates slightly. He’s looking in the mirror, trying to part his hair neatly so that he can wash it easier. He stops, his hands falling from his head to his sides as he stares hard at his reflection.

“I want to impress her.” Eddie admits, his usual self-assuredness now gone, “Or- impress isn’t right,” He puzzles for a moment, his eyes drifting over his features, “Just- I don’t want to scare her away.”

“Well I think it’s good you’re showering then,” Wayne lightens the mood, “‘Not sure she could handle your B.O.”

“Shut up,” Eddie takes the out, shoving at his uncle’s shoulder with no real force, “I’m gonna order pizza for us. She wants to learn how to play DnD.”

Wayne’s eyebrows skyrocket, “She wants to learn? Or have you kidnapped and brainwashed her like those basketball players tell me you do?”

“She’s under my control,” Eddie rasps, his voice thick in his throat.

Wayne snorts, standing up straight from where he’d been leaning against the doorframe, “Alright, boy. I’ll leave you to it, but if you need help getting ready for tonight, I’m here.”

“Thanks,” Eddie breathes, flashing his signature grin at his uncle before he shuts the door.

Wayne watches the closed door with something light and airy filling his chest, maybe laughing gas at the way he chortles hearing Eddie drop the comb into the sink for the tenth time since he started. Then he turns, and the reality of their home hits him.

It’s messy.

Far too messy to accept company, which is why the pair hasn’t for years. Aside from Eddie’s trusted friends, all of whom are far too sloppy themselves to bat an eye at the general clutter around the trailer, no one has set foot in their space for five long years.

Now, he’s all for encouraging Eddie to be himself, that if someone doesn’t like who he is, then they’re not fit for a friend. But he’s sure that you’re far too important to Eddie for that test just yet, and he’s not sure he wants you to get to know his nephew as messy when there’s so many other qualities he possesses. That’s something you can discover later, when you’re hooked on his charm and wit and won’t mind stepping on a pair of boxers or two to get down the hallway. He gets to work clearing away mindless clutter, collecting shirts strewn over the furniture and paper plates tucked under the couch.

By the time Eddie finishes showering (and falling, twice), Wayne has the entire living room de-cluttered, although most of the loose papers and items have made their way onto the kitchen table instead of being put in their places. Eddie steps out of the bathroom, towel tucked around his waist and a hand in his curls, dragging his fingers through the wet tangles, and he stops dead in the doorway, eyes wide.

“Shit,” He breathes, watching his uncle crouch to tug an empty beer can out from behind the door and stuff it into the trash bag he’s got going, “Wayne, what are you doing?”

“Cleaning up,” Wayne states the obvious, raising an eyebrow unimpressed at his nephew’s cognitive skills, “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Are-” Eddie stops combing through his hair, standing limply in front of his uncle, “Are you doing this ‘cause Y/N’s coming over?”

“That’s her name?” Wayne smiles, “‘S a pretty one.”

“You are,” Eddie marvels, “Uh, thanks, Wayne.”

Wayne’s hands and knees burn against the scratchy carpet, the beer can in his hands sharp from being crushed. He stands, the worn fabric of his flannel falling limp against his distressed jeans. He stands there, tattered and messy, looking at the way Eddie’s cleaned himself up.

He’s wearing a tank top, a KISS shirt that he was gifted on his tenth birthday. It’s got tour dates on the back, one of which Wayne took Eddie to as a present. Apparently it didn’t look good enough as a t-shirt though, because the boy had taken scissors to it a few years back, carving out holes the size of craters that expose part of his side.

His hair is bundled up in a bun atop his head, scrunched up and crimping itself while it dries. He always tells Eddie not to do that, to leave it down so that each strand can dry individually, but Eddie hates the feeling of wet hair on his skin, so he pulls it up and leaves it sitting until he can blow-dry it.

The same ripped jeans he’d worn to school are back on his waist, belt cinched tight around him with his handcuffs pinned there. Wayne always tells him he’ll confuse someone, make them think he’s an undercover cop, but Eddie only laughs at him. There’s a chain hooked through his belt that rests on his hip, dipping close to his knee and gleaming in the artificial light above them.

There’s two necklaces bouncing against his chest as he walks over to help Wayne with the overflowing trash bag, his typical guitar pick and a dog tag he’d found in the street one day. It says Sprinkles on one side, but Eddie swears that it looks metal if he turns it the other way, the owner’s number stamped across it.

He has an earring in. Eddie almost never puts an earring in, because his at-home ear piercing hadn’t produced the most sanitary results. He says it burns when he wears earrings, but here he is, a heavy silver hoop through one ear and a black cuff pinched tight at the helix of the other.

Wayne looks at his nephew, his boy, and pride surges through his chest. Pride, a little bit of awe, and happiness. He cares. This is something Eddie really cares about, you are something Eddie really cares about, and it’s obvious by the things he’s done for you before you’ve even come over. Eddie has always cared, perhaps a bit too much, and it’s easy to tell when he does from the little things he pieces together to show it.

“You look good, boy.” Wayne breaks the careful silence the two had slipped into, watching Eddie tug the straps to the garbage bag. He reddens slightly, his cheeks flaring in color, something akin to the shade of the tomato soup he’d managed to botch for last thursday’s dinner. How the boy had undercooked a can of soup, he’d never know.

“Thanks, Wayne.” Eddie mumbles, forearms flexing as he ties a knot into the strings of the garbage bag, “I’ll take this out.”

“We should start on your room,” Wayne points out as Eddie tries making his frantic exit, spooked by praise. Eddie nods once, and Wayne lets him escape to the dumpster to process the emotions he’s got swirling inside of him.

He knows the boy gets shy around praise, which is why he tries not to overwhelm him. But today is different, today is a bigger step than he’s seen Eddie take in a long time, and it’s hard not to burst with pride.

When Eddie comes back inside Wayne is already tiptoeing around his room, dodging suspicious socks and cassette tapes strewn about. Eddie gets to work stacking those, a comfortable silence falling over the pair as they set to work.

“Wayne?” Eddie’s voice is timid, meek.

“Yeah?” Wayne reaches under his bed, pulling out a magazine that he shouldn’t have and a sock, something Wayne doesn’t want to think about as a pair.

“Do you.. Do you really think I look nice?” As soon as the words are out of his mouth he’s stammering, shaking his head so that his bun wobbles dangerously, “I- I mean, like- not like nice, but do you… you think she’ll like it?”

“Son, if she asked you to teach her about your game, I’m sure she’s not scared of you.”

“But is that enough? Shouldn’t she,” Eddie abandons the cassettes in his hand, scratching bashfully at the back of his neck and combing through the stray hairs there, “I dunno, like me? Not just not hate me?”

“Well I’d give her some time if I were you,” Wayne chuckles, reminded of the restlessness of youth, “You’ve only known her a day.”

“Right.” Eddie nods frantically, eyes glued to the tapes he busies himself with again, “Yeah, I will.”

“Hey,” Wayne reaches out, bracing a hand on Eddie’s knee that’s bouncing frantically, “You’ve got this, boy. You can do this. She’ll love you.”

The word love has Eddie’s cheeks flaring the color of it, a deep red that Wayne sees most often on valentine’s day cards. He chuckles once more at his nephew’s crush, shaking his head and getting back to sorting through clutter.

By the time Eddie’s watch beeps, a tinny, mechanical sound that has him leaping onto his feet to rush for the door, they’ve gotten his room mostly under control. There’s a pile of dirty laundry stull bulging out of the closet, but that can’t be avoided, as the hamper is broken from a rather unfortunate sledding endeavor a few months back. You’ll just have to live with the sight of yesterday’s t-shirt in the corner, they decide.

“Okay, uh- thanks, Wayne.” Eddie brushes his hands on his pants, already sweaty from nerves, “I’m gonna go pick her up now.”

“Right,” Wayne stands, trash bag in hand with all of Eddie’s discarded food wrappers and beer cans, “Good luck, son.”

The term flares up Eddie’s blush again, but Wayne doesn’t comment on it, offering him a quick hug, a simple pat to the back. It’s all Eddie can handle right now, already a bundle of nerves that he doesn’t want spilling out.

“There’s a $10 on the fridge,” Wayne calls out after Eddie bounds down the steps of the trailer,tugging the rubber band out of his hair and letting it spill over his shoulders, “Use it for pizza!”

“No, no,” Eddie waves his uncle off, plunging his hand into his pocket to retrieve his wallet, “I got it!”

“Eddie,” Wayne glares at the stubborn boy, “Use the money on the fridge.”

Eddie balks at the aggressively kind gesture, but a wry smile curves over his lips, “Whatever. I’ll just sneak cash into your jacket while you’re asleep.”

“You will not,” Wayne huffs, but Eddie’s already taken off for his van, slamming the door behind him with a hearty laugh at his uncle’s grouchiness.

When Eddie pulls up to your house, having checked the little slip of paper buried in his pocket, oh, around a thousand times, one of the upstairs lights is on. It’s the only one on, the rest of the windows pitch black, and Eddie worries that maybe something is wrong. Your house looks near abandoned, but at the rough chugchugchugging of his engine, a downstairs light flicks on. He catches your silhouette thumping down the stairs and sees the outline of a skirt over your hips. His stomach flips and he shuts off the van, hurrying out so that he can beat you to the door. It seems gentlemanly, something he’s never been too concerned about, but it feels right in the moment.

He’s inches from the door as you wrench it open, a fist raised to knock while you step out of it, not expecting him there on the other side. Your eyes widen but you can’t stop your momentum, stumbling clumsily into his chest despite your efforts to slow down.

“Oh!”

“Eddie!” You speak in unison, your voices mingling just as your limbs do. His arms wind around your waist, laying over his hellfire shirt that you’ve tucked into the waistband of your skirt. The material is soft under his touch, but not as soft as your face, which hits his shoulder in your scuffle. Eddie feels a burst of warmth flood through him at the skin-on-skin contact, and holds you steady as you right yourself against his chest. Your hands brace themselves frantically on his stomach, your chest heaving as you gape at him, “I’m so sorry! I- I wasn’t paying attention, I just heard you coming, and- and,”

“If you were that excited to see me,” Eddie doesn’t know how he’s being as suave as he is, because his heart is practically hammering through his ribcage to affix itself to you like a lovesick leech, “You could have asked me to come earlier.”

You feel your cheeks flare with heat as you slump forwards, the crown of your head hitting Eddie’s clothed chest, “Stoooop.”

Eddie chuckles, adjusting the pitch of his voice to your own, “Stoooop.”

“You’re mocking me!” You shove at him lightly, making him stumble a step backwards, “You’re the worst.”

“Hey,” Eddie finally lets you go, his skin instantly cold where it had once touched yours, “You gotta be nice to me. I’m teaching you DnD, remember?”

“Fine,” You huff dramatically, “You get a pass, but only for tonight!”

“Deal.” Eddie’s eyes gleam with mischief, “Ready?”

“Ready.” You confirm, bouncing excitedly on the balls of your feet.

“Van’s there,” Eddie gestures to his van, nearly tripping over his own feet when you grab his hand, eagerly tugging him along, “Woah!”

“I told you I was ready.” You gush, the words coming out in a soft giggle that makes his heart burst.

You look out of place in his van, too heavenly to be wriggling comfortably into his worn seats. There’s a half-drunk water bottle by your feet that crunches beneath your shoe, and you apologize hurriedly for crushing it.

“‘S okay sweetheart,” Eddie snickers, reaching down to pluck it out from under your feet, “It’s, like, months old.”

“Eddie,” You chide, “It’s probably growing something!”

“It’s fine,” He urges, snickering at your horror, “It’ll put some hair on your chest.”

He leaves you with that, shutting the door to your side of the car and jogging around to the driver’s side door. He wrenches it open, his hair bouncing against his chest as he sits down with a flounce. The radio that he has is already preloaded with the cassette tape he uses whenever he drives Wayne anywhere, his favorite metal artists and their less-overwhelming songs. Wayne always says heavy metal ‘makes his ears bleed’, he’s more into classic rock, but Eddie will be damned if he isn't listening to Mötley Crüe on any drive longer than two minutes. He figures that he’ll be courteous to you at first, just in case metal isn’t your thing either.

To his surprise, a minute into Merry Go Round, your brow dips in concentration.

“Mötley Crüe, right?”

Eddie swears he nearly passes out. His usual response to surprising information, a dramatic flailing of his limbs, doesn’t seem very safe just now, and you’re lucky he doesn’t jerk the wheel to the side.

“Yeah,” He grins dazedly, “You listen?”

“Sometimes!” You pick at a loose thread on your skirt, “I’m into a bit of everything. Really jus’ whatever comes on the radio.”

Eddie suddenly likes you more, if possible. Everything new that he learns about you only adds to the little list of Reasons he Cares, the first and most important being that you’re kind to him. He would never admit it, but he’s like a little lost puppy, trailing after the first person to scratch behind his ears.

“I like your van.” You muse, and it’s so genuinely sweet it nearly makes Eddie scream. You brush your fingers over a Black Sabbath sticker that’s peeling off of the dash, reaffixing the dusty backing to the smooth plastic. It doesn’t stay, it pops right back up again, but you’re onto the next detail now, a pair of old sneakers in the door, autographed by the patrons that watch him perform with his band.

“These are cool,” You marvel at the sloppy, mostly-drunken signatures scrawled over the canvas, “Who are they?”

“Our fans,” Eddie boasts proudly, even though he’s sure seven hammered 40 year olds aren’t the most impressive thing in the world when it comes to an audience, “They watch us perform, remember my band I told you about?”

Eddie watches your eyes light up from the rear-view mirror, but you’re lucky he doesn’t take his eyes off the road completely to see them unfiltered.

“That’s right!” You remember your earlier conversation, “That’s so cool, Eddie, you’ve got fans!”

“We do,” He chuckles, fingers sweating against the steering wheel as you near his trailer, “You should come to one of our shows sometime.”

“If I do, do I get to sign the sneakers?” You’re far too excited to put your name on a pair of ratty old shoes, repurposed as a trophy, but Eddie would be willing to buy a new pair just so that your name can be the only one on the fabric. He thinks about that, about having your name displayed over him, and blushes. He hopes you don’t catch it.

“Of course you can,” Eddie promises, turning much more carefully than he normally does into his typical parking spot, the van sputtering to a stop when he removes the key. He turns to you before you open the door, “How about this saturday?”

“Next,” You compromise, “My parents get back Saturday night and I can’t be out without them knowing.”

“Your parents are gone?” Eddie cocks his head to the side, crimped hair bouncing as he does.

“They’re getting the last of our stuff from our old house,” You nod solemnly, “We don’t even have mattresses here yet.”

“No shit? What have you been sleeping on?”

“The couch,” You recount sadly, “It’s not very comfortable, but it’s better than the floor.”

“Damn,” Eddie sympathizes, yanking on the latch of his door and hopping down, “Well, babe, I’ve got a mattress inside, if you’re interested in staying the night.”

It’s bold, brazen, uncouth, but he tops it off with a teasing grin, so it’s okay. You can’t help the giggle that escapes you, happy that it mostly filled the empty van as he slams his door, rounding the front to open your own for you.

“Very gentlemanly,” You praise him, slipping your hand into his to step down from the lifted van, “I’m impressed.”

“Well don’t get used to it,” He teases, squeezing you against his side with a hand that drifts suspiciously low, “I’m not usually this nice.”

“I must be special.” You concur, giddiness in your grin that sends Eddie’s stomach into a cartwheel.

You are, Eddie nods once at you, afraid to voice his thoughts in case they somehow ruin the unspoken adoration between you, More than you know.

Eddie’s pleased to find nothing but a slight oil stain in Wayne’s usual parking spot, his uncle having predicted that Eddie would want alone time with you. He’s half expecting to find a box of condoms on the kitchen counter when he walks in with you, but flicking on the light of the trailer reveals only a spotless living space, junk shoved in drawers to be dealt with later.

“I like it.” You decide with a curt nod, eyes landing on the array of DnD paraphernalia stacked on the couch, “Oh, I almost forgot! I brought you this.”

You reach into the waistband of your skirt, the slim paperback book you were reading earlier neatly molded to your side. It doesn’t retain the curve of your side, flattening back out into its shape as you hold it out to Eddie.

You swear you catch his eyes wandering towards the spot that you’d just pulled the book from, but they snap up to meet your own before you can verify it. He takes the book from you with an eager grin, “Thanks, sweetheart.”

“Y’wanna swap?” You stride over to the couch, plucking a book titled Players Handbook: Compiled Information for Players and Dungeon Masters out of the pile.

Eddie falters slightly, surprised that you’re so eager to get into what might be the least exciting part of learning DnD: the rules.

“Sure,” He nods carefully, taken aback, “Lemme just clear the couch.”

He bends over to do so, and you can’t help that your eyes trace the newly-exposed skin of his chest. The shirt he’s wearing already reveals his side, but as his arms stretch to grab boxes and papers off of the cushions in front of you, it shifts to show his stomach.

You don’t realize you’re staring until he stops in front of you, an eyebrow raised that you don’t catch because you’re ogling him.

“Everything okay?” To your horror, there’s a twinge of amusement in his voice, and you’re certain he’s caught you.

“Yes!” You scramble to act casual, thumbing past the cover of the book to appear busy, “Yes, let’s get started.”

Eddie sits before you do, surveying you with that same cocky gaze. It makes you nervous, your stomach churning slightly, and you perch on the end of the couch that he’s not spread out over.

He lets out a scoff, reaching out, “You can get comfortable, Y/N, I don’t bite.”

He does, however, grab, which you find out when he yanks your legs out from under you, tugging them outwards so that they rest over his lap. He’s reclined against both the arm of the couch and the back cushion of it, looking far too composed for the rampage of butterflies against his stomach.

You melt into your new position so naturally that it scares you. It feels right, cracking the spine of the handbook while your legs are draped casually over Eddie’s lap. Stretching out and getting comfortable on Eddie’s couch seems just as casual as it does on your couch, and you can’t help the dizzy grin that spreads over your face as you realize this.

“Somethin’ funny?” Eddie’s brow quirks at your expression, and you bury it behind the book, shaking your head.

“Right,” He sets a hand over your ankles, locking your legs into their position on his lap, “Lemme know if you’re confused, babe, I’m here to help.”

Though the DnD handbook is informative, and slightly exhilarating to peruse, you hope that the actual gameplay is less complicated than it sounds. You’re barely twenty pages in, a good 40 minutes gone by, and you’re not sure you can keep all of the information straight in your head. Hopefully Eddie cuts you some slack, or else you might seriously slow down their game.

"Page?" Eddie glances up from the pages of your novel, peering over at the handbook in your grip.

You look to the corner of the page from where you'd been reading up on character classes, "23."

"The Fighter." He speaks in a low voice, raspy and dramatic. You giggle, half amused by his theatrics and half impressed that he's managed to memorize the 130-page handbook in front of you.

"What about you?" You glance pointedly at the book in his hands, shifting your feet in his lap slightly. You don't realize it, but they press against a rather sensitive spot, and Eddie hunches slightly, his stomach caving in as he tries remaining composed.

"Uh," His eyes frantically skim the page, wide and panicked until they lock on a familiar name, "Weylin- Weylin is just, uh, crossing over the Bridge of Lost Souls."

"Ooh," You wriggle slightly in your place on the couch, consequently burrowing your feet further into Eddie's lap, "I love that part! You meet Ionia soon, you'll love her!"

He can’t take it anymore.

“Uh,” He shoots off of the couch, lowering your feet carefully back down to the cushions where he was sitting, “I’m getting kinda hungry. Pizza time?”

“Pizza time.” You nod jovially, flipping a page in the handbook, seemingly unconscious of Eddie’s predicament, “Pepperoni?”

“And sausage.” Eddie nods, “Be right back.”

When he comes back, tugging a crumpled bill out of his pocket to use for the food and pointedly avoiding his uncle’s money, you tuck your legs up under you to set him sit down. He peers over the top of the handbook, eyes drifting to the words appearing upside-down in front of his face.

His nose hooks over the tops of the pages, and you can’t help it: you giggle. He glances up amusedly at you, his own sweet laugh filling the air as he crumples into your lap. You raise the book over your head so that he doesn’t have to slip under it, and his eyes meet yours from where he lays on your legs.

You stare down at him, entranced by his features. His soft cheeks, his sloped nose, the tinge of red that spreads over his skin. His eyes, shiny and smooth, like melted chocolate that you can taste on your tongue. You brush a hand over his forehead, gathering up loose flyaway hairs that have gathered there. They’re malleable and wiry in your grip, and you twirl them around your finger once, twice, thrice, until they form a spiraled curl.

His eyes follow your finger, doe-like as they cross to track your movement. When you let the hair go it springs off of your finger, bouncing down to rest over his nose, and his eyes dart inwards to follow it.

Apparently it tickles his nose, because he scrunches it up, miniscule wrinkles etched like waterways on a map into his skin. You smooth the terrain, running the soft pad of your finger down the bridge of his nose and marveling how his face relaxes as your touch waves over it.

He shivers slightly under your finger, and you notice a bridge of freckles, the lightest you’ve ever seen, dotting his nose. They stand strong over all of the rivers you have yet to flatten, stretching down towards his mouth in beautiful smile lines.

“You’re pretty.” You muse, your voice barely more than a whisper as you trace his features. He lets his eyes flutter shut when your fingers brush under them, his lashes tickling your skin.

“Thanks, sweetheart.” He coos, the softness of his voice gaping that growing sinkhole of adoration that’s been tugging at your chest ever since you met him. His pretty face, his sweet words, his kind actions, all of them mark him as safe, as good, as loveable.

With his eyes closed, you’re allowed to be as obvious as you want when ogling him, not that you were very subtle before. Your eyes latch onto his lips in a similar fashion as you want your own to do, roving over every crease, mark, and indent in the soft, pillowy muscles.

Before you can think about it, you touch them. Your fingers, their pads soft and hesitant, prod gently at his lips. That has his eyes shooting open, carmeled brown irises meeting yours in shock.

Though you feel his gaze on you, you don’t stop. You let your hands linger on his face, soaking up every second of dazzlingly intimate contact you can get with the man. He studies your face while you study his, the both of you barely breathing while watching the other sit pretty. You swear you feel Eddie’s lips shift under your fingers, puckering ever-so-slightly to kiss the tips of your fingers, but then-

The hollow, sharp knock on the door of Eddie’s trailer shatters the intimacy of the moment, plunging you back into reality from the serene haze you’d been trapped in. You both fall from the clouds you’d lounged atop, plummeting back to earth with the thump of your hearts in your chests.

“I’ll get it,” Eddie scrambles up from where he’s draped over your lap, rushing to the door and snatching the cash off of the counter. You straighten yourself out while he grabs the pizza, cheeks aflame as you look around the room to avoid looking at him. You see a stack of vhs movies in the corner by the television set, and your eyes catch a familiar title.

Labyrinth.

“Okay,” Eddie sets the pizza on the counter, grateful for the paper plates the place provided you, “One slice or two?”

“Two,” You grin eagerly, reaching for the tape, “Are you the reason this was missing from the video store yesterday?”

He laughs at the sight of the VHS in your hands, “Yep, ‘had it since it came out.”

“Rude,” You scoff, “I wanted to watch it last night!”

“Bummer,” Eddie scrunches his brows, faux-sympathy written on his face, “‘Guess you’ll just have to come over whenever you wanna watch it.”

“Well I’m here now…” You push, clutching the case hopefully.

“Pop it in,” Eddie laughs, gesturing towards the machine, “‘Should be rewound already.”

You kneel by the VHS player while Eddie brings your plates over, and your back faces him. It gives him the perfect opportunity to ogle you, only feeling slightly guilty when his eyes trace the curve of your ass.

You turn before he can admire how the Hellfire shirt exposes the angles of your shoulders, abandoning its post and leaving your neck bare. He watches the skin there shift, muscles beneath the surface tensing as you crane it downwards to slide the tape into the receiver.

“We’ll work more on DnD later,” Eddie promises as the main titles roll, music filling the otherwise silent trailer, “We’ve still gotta get a character figured out for you.”

“‘M excited,” You speak through a mouthful of greasy pizza, pepperoni sticking to your lip, “Thanks for the pizza, Eddie.”

“‘Course sweetheart,” He grins at you, then hides his blush in the red tomato sauce on his bread.

Eddie truly believes that you’ll go over more later for the game. But when you finish both slices of your pizza, hands covering your stomach tenderly as he’s sure it’s stuffed, and curl up against the arm of the couch, he knows nothing else is getting done tonight. Your eyes are glued to the screen, Sarah’s dress glittering as her hair flounces with every movement of the couple. He’s never been a Bowie fan, but he reckons you are by the way your eyes shine whenever he’s on screen.

He’s jealous of David Bowie.

Oh, fuck, he never thought he’d sink this low. But he feels something unfamiliar and sharp prod at his chest whenever you pay just a little too much attention to the man on screen, and he prods at your feet with his own.

“Hoggin’ the couch,” He chides you, with no real scorn as he tangles his legs with yours, “Stretched out like you own the place.”

“Sor-ry,” You huff dramatically, clocking his teasing grin and knowing he’s just messing around, “It’s not my fault your couch is comfier than mine.”

Eddie remembers your admission, that you’ve been sleeping on your couch for god-knows-how-long, and his stomach sours. He studies your face, the way that your eyelids droop even though you’re clearly enjoying the movie, the wrinkling of your chin as you yawn. You’re clearly exhausted, and his space is the comfort you need.

He feels something akin to pride at that. You not only feel comfortable enough around him to curl up on his couch, but you feel comfortable enough to fall asleep. He might be new at this, the whole relationship thing, but he knows that’s big.

Suddenly he doesn’t feel such a large blade of jealousy stabbing at his heart anymore, because you’re not cuddled up to David Bowie on David Bowie’s couch, are you? No. You’re curled up with him, on his couch.

Take that, Bowie.

It’s around the one-and-a-half hour mark, only ten minutes before the movie ends, that he realizes he’s the only one watching. He’s been glancing back and forth between the screen and you for ages now, but when he checks up on you this time, you’re asleep. He can see your chest rising and falling, his shirt still worn proudly over your frame, and a sleepy smile curves over his face. Your lashes kiss your cheeks, casting shadows down your face that look like spiderwebs. It looks cool, and he makes a mental note to ask you if you’d let him put eyeliner on you to see if he can turn it into a spiderweb. It’s a design he’s been meaning to do on himself, but if he needs a model, why would you turn him down?

The end of the movie isn’t so entrancing to him anymore now that you’re snoozing, and once more he lets his eyes drift over your frame. Your skirt is tucked neatly under your bum, but your thighs peek out of it, soft and plumped by the way you’re laying. Then his eyes rove over your shirt, the familiar, hand-crafted design looking better on you than it ever has on him or his friends. It’s odd, seeing the shirt on anyone but the boys in his friend group, but he quickly decides that it’s his favorite outfit of yours, and that nothing in the world could top it.

The end credits announce themselves in an encore of the film’s soundtrack, and Eddie reluctantly parts from the cozy embrace you’ve found yourself in. He ejects the tape, stuffing it back into its case and tucking it carefully back onto the stack. Now that he knows it’s his ticket to time spent with you, he’s much more reluctant to take it back to Family Video tomorrow like he’d planned. Maybe he’ll keep it, late fee be damned.

“Y/N,” He hates the thought of waking you, but he hates the thought of inconveniencing his uncle even more, and you’re curled up on what will become Wayne’s pull-out.

“Y/N,” He tries again, soft and soothing as he taps your shoulder gently, “Wake up, we’ve gotta get you home.”

The clock only reads 10:23, but he’d feel guilty getting you home at an indecent hour. Typically, Eddie’s philosophy is etiquette be damned, but he has a feeling you wouldn’t be too happy about being dumped on your front porch after two in the morning.

“Y/N,” He slips a hand under your torso, his other sliding under your legs, “C’mon, wake up.”

You don’t. You must have really had trouble sleeping on your couch, because now that you’re dozing off, you don’t seem to wake up easily. Worry gnaws at Eddie’s chest as he hoists you into his arms and you don’t wake, only sighing contentedly and curling closer to him.

His eyes widen and his cheeks burn as you snuggle up to him unconsciously, your cheek pressed against his KISS-clad chest. Your nose nudges into his neck and he swears he sees stars, his knees weakening at the intimate contact like you hadn’t just been touching his lips hours beforehand.

“‘Gonna be the death of me,” He mutters, voice devoid of any real anger as he trudges down the hall to his room. His bed is neatly made, pillows stacked at the head that he reaches up and kicks down with one of his socked feet. It flops flat onto the mattress with a thump, and Eddie lowers you as carefully as humanly possible onto the bed. You aren’t too keen to let go, though, because your arms stay tightly wound around his neck. He tries straightening but you come right back up with him, brows scrunching in displeasure at being jostled around.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie laughs, lovestruck, “‘Gotta let go.”

“Eddie,” You mumble hazily, sound far too much like a lover he’s just accidentally jostled by getting out of bed to get ready for work in the morning, “Don’ go.”

“I can’t leave you here,” He reasons, returning your favor and smoothing out the wrinkle in your brows with his thumb, “I’ve gotta grab my keys and shoes, then we’ll take you home.”

“Nooo,” You whine, sleep tugging at your voice, “‘S too cozy here. I don’t wanna leave.”

“But no one knows you’re staying here,” Eddie’s afraid that your parents might come home early, discover their child missing, and storm his trailer with pitchforks, “Don’t you wanna head back home to your own bed?”

"Couch.” You mumble grouchily, “My parents aren't home," Your voice is groggy and weak, but Eddie swears it's more angelic than any hymn he's ever heard, "'S okay."

"Are you sure?" He reaches up, smooths a hand over your forehead then down your cheek without thinking, but before he can panic over the intimate gesture you're leaning into it, letting out a contented hum that quite reminds him of a kitten's purr.

"'M sure," You promise, already curling up cozily beneath his blanket, looking far too natural and perfect in a space you'd never occupied before, and Eddie feared, never would again.

"Okay." He's breathless and weak as your eyes drift shut, his hand lingering against the curve of your face, "G'night sweetheart."

He isn’t sure what to do from there. He could move his hand, he probably should move his hand, so that he doesn’t stand there for hours holding you, but that seems all the more tempting with every passing second. He marvels at his luck, how he’s managed to get to heaven without dying. Unless he is dead. But he’s almost certain he’ll be sent to hell for the sheer amount of drugs he’s sold to high school students, so he’s sure it isn’t that.

You must be an angel, he decides, one that isn’t afraid of the devil everyone says he is. He gets a brief vision of matching halloween costumes to that effect, a wiry halo perched on your head while devil ears adorn his. The scene’s unfiltered domesticity stuns him, along with how perfect it feels. It doesn’t feel awkward or forced, instead like something you’d come up with on the phone at ungodly hours and commit to months before the holiday.

He’ll bring the idea up to you tomorrow.

For now, he has to figure out where he’s sleeping. He’s not taking Wayne’s bed, but you’re in his, and that would be wrong.

Right?

Eddie studies the way your body is laid out on his mattress, knees tucked towards your chest and arms bundled up below your face, clutching the blanket he’d thrown over you. You take up a fraction of the mattress, the side that he normally sleeps on still unobscured.

Would it really be that bad if he laid opposite you? He wouldn’t touch you, he wouldn’t throw an arm over your waist, he wouldn’t tangle his legs with yours, he wouldn’t press a soft kiss to your forehead before drifting off. He wouldn’t.

He wants to, though.

He gives into another temptation, hopefully his last for the night, and lets himself indulge in your presence. He slides onto the end of the mattress, careful not to disrupt you as you slumber.

It feels weird, having someone in his bed beside him. Weird, but good. He decides, in fact, that there’s no better feeling aside from your fingers on his lips, than you in bed beside him. He stares up at the ceiling, willing the urge to kiss your nose away before he can screw up the best thing that’s happened to him in years.

One single, cautious glance thrown your way, and it’s all over.

Your hand is bared towards him, the smooth skin on the back of it in perfect kissing-range. He would be an idiot not to, right? That’s what gentlemen do, after all, they kiss the back of their lady’s hand. Typically not without her knowledge, or while she’s in bed with him, but it’s the principle of it, not the specific scenario.

He reaches for your hand hesitantly, and once his skin brushes yours he sees fireworks that light up the dark room. They nearly short out his vision, and when he sees clearly again, your hand is poised directly in front of his lips, his own hand still clutching it securely.

“Sleep good, sweetheart.” He whispers, near-inaudible in the darkness, then his lips press delicately against your hand.

Such unimaginable warmth and giddiness fill his chest, that he’s sure he’ll explode. There’s going to be Eddie Guts on the walls and ceiling, rotted sickly sweet from how infatuated with you he’s become in such a short time. Kissing you, albeit only your hand, feels like something he wants to do for the rest of his life, and he can only hope you’re gracious enough to grant him that privilege.

That’s a discussion for the morning, though, or never, Eddie reminds himself. He’s just kissed your hand in the middle of the night while you’re sleeping like a creep, he might not be too eager to admit that to you in the morning in a desperate plea to do it again. He refrains from peppering the rest of your skin in adoring kisses, but keeps your hand clutched in his own, marveling at the way that you can warm him up completely from a single touch.

It must be an angel thing, he decides, as he drifts off into a happy slumber, tomorrow he’ll ask you if it hurt when you fell from heaven.

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

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the-book-gnome · 6 months

Text

Secret Obsession

Word Count: 1.7k

Pairings: Azriel x reader

Summary: After years of yearning for the Shadow-singer, you finally have a chance to act on your twisted urges

Warnings: smut, somnophilia, oral(male reiceveing) non-con if you squint, shadow play

A/n: This is definitely a little rough, it’s been awhile, the writing is probably not great but at least I tried

“Please?”

“No.”

“Why not? It truly causes you no harm, it’s just a small request.”

“If you want Azriel then go get him, I am not going to play matchmaker for you.”

You rolled your eyes at Rhys, after three centuries he still refuses to help you with your feelings for his brother. It’s not that you fear Azriel, you simply don’t want to have to deal with the awkwardness of his rejection if things were to go wrong. And unfortunately with your luck that would be highly likely. “You act as if it would be a difficult task, all I’m asking is for you to set me up with him on a mission, I will do the rest of the work.”

“And you act like there is any part of you that is in any way good at spying,” A sly smirk spread on his face as he looked you up and down, “Or being quiet in general, I don’t believe there has been a single hour where you’ve been able to keep your mouth shut, you even talk in your sleep.”

“We’ll you're being a little rude today, trouble in paradise?” Now it was your turn to smirk as he growled at you, you batted your lashes to him and put on the sweetest smile known to male-kind, “Pretty please?”

Rhys rolled his eyes at you, “You’re obsession with my brother is quite annoying, and as honored as I am to be the only to know of your affections to him I will not help you, but, how about this,” Rhys took your arm in his as he lead you through the hallways of the house of wind, speaking quietly, “If you don’t approach Azriel by the end of the night and make your affections towards him known, then I’ll make sure to tell him of all of your most embarrassing thoughts of him, maybe I’ll even tell him how your mouth starts watering the second his scent reaches your nose or even all of those dark twisted fantasies you daydream about. I’m sure that’ll scare him off,” A soft laugh escaped his lips as he looked down at your petrified face, “But who knows, perhaps that’ll interest him, he does have a different taste then most I know.”

As you reached the dining room he let go of your arm and walked towards his mate, giving you a wink over his shoulder. You stood in the middle of the room, your face scrunched up in anger.

“At Least I’m not the only one he likes to piss off,” You jump a little as Nesta whispers into your ear. You grunted at her comment and relaxed your body, you both walked over to the table where the weekly family dinner took place. Rhys forces all of you to be there no matter how busy you may otherwise be. As per usual you take your seat to the left of Nesta, Cassian at her other side. What was unusual was when Azriel sat himself to your right, he had always sat next to Feyre, never you.

Azriel’s shadows floated over you, dragging across your cheek in greeting, it seemed they never behaved when you were within proximity. Azriel had given up on trying years ago. “If you don’t mind, could you come to the library with me after dinner, there’s some information I need to find and you would be a great help?” His voice was soft as he leaned in to whisper his request into your ear.

You simply nodded towards the male, always the perfect picture of boredom when he was around you. At that he gave a small smile, then started stacking food onto his plate, the rest of the inner circle had already started.

——————

You trailed after Azriel to the library, dinner was the same as always, as everyone spoke and made jokes together you simply raised the shield around yourself to conceal and scent and went into your mind, dreaming of those dark twisted fantasies Rhys had mentioned earlier.

Sometimes you feel guilty thinking of Azriel the way you do, all of the ways you would use his body for your own pleasure. How badly you wanted to make him beg for you. The day dream you had at dinner was quite captivating, it was most likely now or never with Rhys’s little threat, Azriel might run far from you if Rhys were to tell him those stories.

“I’ve already made a stack of books for us to read through, there’s quite a few so if you would like to stop at any time I won’t mind restarting in the morning.” Azriel had led you to a quiet lower level in the library, it was late, all of the priestesses had already gone to bed so it was just the two of you till morning. Perfect for what you want to do.

You sat in a cushioned chair adjacent to the one Azriel had sat in and began with the first book. It was extremely mind numbing, it took all your focus to read these books, often having to restart the page. Hours past by, you’ve made it through another book, a true mystery that was. Azriel had made it through three already. You glanced over at him, his face showed pure concentration, it was a wonder to you how he was so interested in these boring ass books. You let out a little sigh as you continued on with the reading.

With the fourth book you had finally found interesting bits and pieces, enough for you not to notice Azriel dozing off next to you. That was until you heard the softest of snoring coming from him. Your head snapped to his direction in confusion, he had never fallen asleep around you before. Part of you thought he never slept at all. You were in awe at the sight of it. The hardened features of his face softened, his plush lips slightly parted, the book in his hands about to fall to the floor. His shadows swirled around his body slowly as if they were falling asleep as well. You set your book down and made to reach for the one in his hands. When you touched it his shadows perked up assessing your intention, when you slipped the book from his hands and set it next to your own they glided over to you. They swirled around your arms, settling around your waist.

You looked back to Azriel who so conveniently was still fast asleep. The thoughts of your fantasy from dinner crossed your mind. And as you slid to the floor and sat yourself between the spymaster's legs, his shadows did nothing to wake him, as if knowing what you intended to do, letting you do it. You reached for the ties to his leather pants, hands shaking a bit, the excitement of what was about to happen going through you. The space between your thighs had started the second you saw him fast asleep next to you.

Once the ties were done with you watched as a small shadow played gently with his cock, the other moved up to his face, lazily stroking through his hair, making sure to keep their master asleep. You watched as his cock hardened through his leathers, the shadow working quickly for you as you were getting impatient. Your panties were already soaked with how excited you were to finally be able to touch him. You watched as the little shadow joined the other up by his hair. Biting your lip you moved your hands back to his lap, slowly pulling the fabric down just enough to pull Azriel’s cock out.

A breath escaped your lips as you laid your eyes upon it, so much bigger and thicker than you had thought possible. What the other females say about wingspan must have been true then.

His tip was red and looked almost painful, you looked up to him, his mouth parted a little more, his brows drawn together. It wasn’t your fault his shadows did this to him, if anything, you would only be helping him with his problem. You leaned forward and licked a bead of his liquid that leaked from his tip, moaning at the taste you went back for more, dragging your tongue from the base to the tip. You slid your mouth down a bit, sucking harshly, your grip on his cock tightened. Your eyes rolled as you truly tasted him. Azriel gasped at the feeling, still in a deep sleep thanks to the shadows.

You closed your eyes and took more of him in, going as deep as you could, what wouldn’t fit down your throat your hands took care of. Another breathless moan came from his lips as you started bobbing your head, tracing your tongue around the veins of his cock. His hands twitched next to you. You gaged every time he hit the back of your throat, that only drove you to go faster, every moan from him made you feel even more obsessed with him. You could feel his cock twitching, so close to his needed release. You indulged the needs of his body, stroking the base and adding pressure. You moved your mouth back to his tip, your hands taking over the rest of him, sucking and swirling your tongue around his head, that tipped his sleeping body over the edge, you both moaned the second his come coated your mouth. Azriel’s hips jerked and his moans continued, you’d never heard such beautiful sounds before.

You swallowed around him, licking up any of the mess he made. Before tucking his cock away you gave it a quick kiss, a farewell until you could play with him again. His shadows left his head, moving to dance across your body, slipping through your panties, you shooed them away, “Not yet,” You whispered, standing up on shaky legs, buzzing with need. You ignored those urges, wanting him to be awake when you put his cock in you.

You stroked your hand in his hair, leaning down to kiss his flushed cheeks. His eyes slowly fluttered, finally waking up. You left before he saw you, heading to the main doors of the library. He will assume you have gone to bed, and come to get you in the morning to continue with the reading. He would never suspect a thing. The only evidence was his untied strings, you did not remember that little fact though.

#acotar #acotar x reader #reader smut #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel smut #azriel x you #azriels shadows #azriel x reader #acotar smut #azriel acotar

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leclsrc · 1 year

Note

happy 3k!! 🫶🏽

"grumbling" and "narrowed eyes" for carlos?

in my dream – cs55

Carlos tries his best to keep you from leaving him lonely.

auds here... title from this but i listened to this on loop while writing (1d girls unite!!!! i was a true blue zayn girl!!!!!)

“That is my shirt.”

You stare at the buttons you’ve been nipping at, realizing a tad too late that it is Carlos’ polo, a plain white one similar to yours, which is somewhere else on the floor. Caught, you turn and find your boyfriend half-awake, sleepy eyes staring at your half-dressed figure. Smiling at his drowsy expression, you roll your eyes.

He likes when you wake up before he does. He finds you on his chest, drawing idle patterns; in the shower, where he almost always joins you; or like today, getting dressed to leave before anybody spots you on his floor. But even in a rush, with your hair all fussed up and a bed mark across your face, he still feels he’s caught in a dream.

“Okay, mister.” You make quick work of unbuttoning the several bottom rows, exaggerating the movement so Carlos sees you’re not in some thick plot to steal his Hugo Boss shirt.

He squints. “And those are my hotel slippers.”

You laugh. “I’ll take them off, then. I was going to anyway, I don’t think they allow cloth slippers in the media pen.”

Dissatisfied, he presses on. “That’s also my bracelet.” He sits up, smiling mischievously, and heaves himself off to take both your wrists and drag you back to bed. “And my hair elastic.” He swipes his thumb over the bracelet and elastic on your left wrist.

“I doubt that,” you say, climbing atop his lap despite yourself. You have work, you have to sneak out before anyone sees and starts a flurry of nasty rumors—but he’s always been good at convincing you to stay. “Your new haircut means you can barely tie a loop around it.” You rake your fingers through his blunt-cut hair.

“Well,” he says, shrugging, “it’s true. And you cannot leave until you have given all these back.” He stamps a kiss onto your jaw. “Sí?” He moves lower, to your exposed collarbones, the area of skin left uncovered by his slouchy polo. He smiles into your skin, smelling faintly of your perfume mixed with his.

“Carlos,” you mutter, pushing lightly despite smiling. “I gotta go.”

He parts from you and narrows his eyes. “Don’t.”

“I’ll get fired,” you quip, buttoning two more. He reaches up to unbutton them and you gasp. “Carlos!”

“You still haven’t given back my…” he inspects your outfit to point out something “of his.” “…Shorts.”

“These are your shorts?” You tug on the hem of the denim that hugs your thighs, clearly not his.

“Fine. My panties.”

“Carlos.” You can’t help but laugh at his desperation, endeared by the fact that he needs you close by all the time. “If you’re into that, we can talk about it in bed tonight.”

“Your report can be about how good I am in bed,” he jokes, hugging you close. You kiss his head and clamber off, pulling your sandals on.

“As a journalist, I’m a firm believer in not spreading fake news,” you say, laughing as you grab your bag and escape the hotel room.

You fix your hair before leaving, still hearing him grumble with early onset separation anxiety on the other side of the door, which opens when you’re just two paces shy of it—

—and a hand comes through and yanks you in for one last kiss, sweet and yearning for more. “Good luck today,” he says. “I love you, miss reporter.”

“Good luck too,” you mumble into his lips, smiling. “Love you more, Carlito.”

#f1 #leclsrc3000 #carlos sainz #car #carlos sainz drabble #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz imagines #carlos sainz x reader #f1 x reader

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toxicanonymity · 10 months

Text

Black Math. Left in Lincoln, pt. 5

8.6k words. dark dbf!Joel Miller x virgin!reader story master list / spotify playlist / joel master

🍑 amazing art by @bonezone44 💙

Now spicier courtesy of the label His smile faded as he looked at you, then he added hoarsely, “God, if you knew how many times I’d thought about you.” There wasn’t so much as a hint of shame in his voice. It had the warmth in your cheeks traveling down, down, down. . . “We’re almost there, baby, but we gotta do it right. We’re almost there, I promise.” He reached into his pants to tuck in his shirt and adjusted himself while he was there. Your eyes fixated on the bulge in his jeans. “God damn,” he exhaled. “Turns me on thinkin’ about it.”

WARNINGS: I8+, Not graphic, but it gets twisted. Lots of plot, including flashbacks, disturbing implicit horror (really), angst, brief self-shaming, big girthy age gap (reader is legal the whole time), pet names and praise, toxic dark joel/fluff, family fluff, gaslighting, manipulation, yearning, pining, obsession, grinding, mutual touching, oral f receiving. NO use of Y/N

A/N: This picks up right after part 4. Word-count wise, parts 1-4 were like half of it. There are two more after this, and I wrote a lot on those before finalizing pt. 5. Thank you all for your patience and enthusiasm. It's so rewarding to see people discuss. Additional thanks to @dark-scape for your help, Raider Joel for your support. I couldn't get the text off bold fyi.

---------------------------------------

You awoke to the sound of stairs creaking under heavy steps, a sound you didn’t often hear at home. You blinked awake, still disoriented as your eyes focused. The vanity, the dresser, the empty glass on the nightstand. The closet. Your mind was catching up when the bedroom door opened. Joel was fully dressed with his hair combed back. His brows were knitted in concern as usual, but his eyes brightened when he saw you waking up.

You lifted your head and squinted at him as you propped yourself up with one elbow.

Joel’s tone was as cheerful as you could ever expect to hear it. “Mornin’, sleepyhead. Makin’ sure you're okay.”

“What time is it?”

“Li’l past noon. Still sleepin’? I’ll leave ya ‘lone.”

“I should get up.” You put your head back down on the pillow.

He came over and sat down on the bed. “How’d ya sleep?”

“Good, once I fell asleep.”

“Does the trick, don’t it?” He nodded to the empty glass on the nightstand.

“Yeah,” you laughed.

“Dr. Miller, at your service.”

You giggled again and his eyes glazed over as they fell on your smile, your chest, then met your eyes. He leaned over and put his elbow down on the far side of you.

“Well, you’ve made me believe in beauty sleep, peaches.” He put a hand on your shoulder, dwarfing it with his massive palm as he brushed your skin with his thumb. “Always a beauty, but ya wake up even prettier.” Your face got hot and you looked away shyly.

Joel bit his lip, holding back a smile. He traced the outer curve of your ear with his fingers. “Hungry?”

“Kinda.”

“I’ll go make ya somethin’.” He looked at you warmly then kissed you on the forehead before he went back downstairs.

—-----

You took a shower and got dressed. As your hands glided over your soapy body, your palms lingered on your breasts. You imagined Joel showering and realized you couldn’t picture him shirtless. While you were picking out something to wear, you got to thinking again about the closet full of clothes. They were mostly dresses. You put on one of several soft, casual floral ones about knee length.

Before you closed the closet door, you stopped yourself. You had to face it – the dress you saw in the dark the night before. The one that kept you up. Heart racing, you reached into the far right corner and fumbled with a big, satin hanger. You squinted your eyes almost shut as you carefully brought the dress out where you could see it. You looked at it blurry through your lashes. It was more cream than white.

When you finally opened your eyes all the way, an unexpected sense of relief soothed your chest as if the dress were made of love and meant for you. It was simple, but breathtaking. Not the rigid, intimidating garment your anxiety had envisioned. It had a simple A-line silhouette. The high collar and long sleeves were a lace outer dress laid over a solid one with a sweetheart neckline. The skirt was flowy and came down around mid-calf.

It gave you butterflies and you couldn’t help but imagine Joel went out of his way to get this. It felt like a wishful conclusion, like a romantic story you wanted to believe. You tried to talk yourself away from it, not wanting to assume. But at the same time, you still couldn’t figure who would have left it behind. Your heart sank for a moment when you wondered if it could have been intended for Tess, but Ellie always said they were platonic and even slept in separate rooms. Not only were the clothes not anything Ellie or Tess would wear, but Ellie nor Tess ever lived in this house. They were gone before Joel moved down the street. You put the dress way back in the corner of the closet where it came from.

—------------------

When Joel first settled into the community, he moved into a house near Abe’s, clear on the other side of the neighborhood. You met Ellie first. You were in your backyard gardening when she appeared out of nowhere and asked what you were doing. She was a little younger than you, but much more experienced in life, having been out in the world. You were shy to ask her about the horrors of the infected, not wanting to upset her. But she told you all about it anyway – the different kinds, the way they connected underground. You were grateful for your life and recognized the privilege in growing up like you did. Growing up at all.

Bill used to remind you how lucky you were, especially as a teenager when you would have fits about wanting to go out into the world. Somehow, learning from Ellie in more graphic detail about the state of the world didn’t squash your desire to get out there one day. You asked her all about the quarantine zones and FEDRA school, and those sounded fun, even though she didn’t depict them that way. She asked you a million questions about your little community, too.

You never saw much of Joel until after Ellie left. Frank worried about Joel being all alone, having experienced so much loss, so they invited him over for dinner. The first time, Joel was surprised when you answered the door. He apologized and looked around as though he had made some kind of mistake. Then it occurred to you he might have forgotten your name. You couldn’t even remember a time you had formally met, so you introduced yourself.

He took a few seconds. “Right, sorry,” he mumbled. “I thought—well, Ellie, uh—I guess I thought you were younger.”

Joel was polite and didn’t talk much. Bill liked that about him, so they started having him over for dinner regularly. The two of you didn’t share much conversation, but when you did, Joel seemed in awe of how protected you grew up. It made you self-conscious. It wasn’t something you liked about yourself. When Joel noticed this, he clarified it was a really good thing. Rare. The terror of the world affected most people for the worse.

—

Joel didn’t move into his current house until after the Adlers died and someone needed to take care of the peach and apple orchards. He had already been helping them tend the orchards and also helped fix things up around the property as the Adlers’ age caught up with them.

When Joel moved, Frank had the idea to bake something to welcome him to your family’s end of the community. You made a blueberry cobbler. Frank combed his hair and tucked in a plain, button-up shirt. He didn’t ask you to put on a dress, but you did because Frank always had fun getting spruced. He liked to have a reason, even if the occasion was completely manufactured, like the nights he made dinner and claimed his restaurant had a dress code. You couldn’t deny it made for a nice change of pace, and Bill’s eyes brightened, too despite his obligatory grumbling.

When you were ready to take the cobbler to Joel, Bill said the two of you looked like you were going to a wake.

“It’s nice to dress up,” Frank protested. “It shows we care.”

When you and Frank were about to walk over there, Frank started tearing up thinking about the Adlers. They were your neighbors for as long as you could remember. “I can’t, I can’t do it,” Frank said. Bill didn’t want to do it either. He wasn’t planning on it to begin with.

“I’ll take it,” you offered. So they sent you.

—

You walked up to Joel’s (new) house, stopping to admire the gambrel roof. The front door was newly black and smelled like paint, so you weren’t sure where to knock. You rang the bell and it buzzed sadly in a low, broken tone, as though barely hanging on. When you were just about to walk around back and knock, Joel opened the door holding a dish towel and a salty look that softened as saw you. He let go of the door and looked down as he cleaned his hands.

His voice was deep as always, but it struck you more when you were one-on-one without anyone else’s chatter. “Need somethin’?”

“Uh, no. I don’t.” You smiled just enough to not look scared and countered, “Do you need anything?” His presence was intimidating. Handsome and muscular, with a quiet, powerful energy.

He didn’t say anything. Kept cleaning his fingers. Once he looked at you again, he didn’t look away. He stopped messing with his fingers. It was your only private conversation since the first time he came over for dinner. It was more eye contact than he had ever given you. You waited out the silence, then smiled and held out the cobbler for him. “This is for you.”

He put his hands around the dish, careful not to let his dirty fingers touch yours. “You made this?”

“Yeah,” you nodded and took your hands away. His eyes gave the hint of a smile, but his mouth didn’t budge.

“Welcome to the street,” you told him.

He nodded but didn’t offer any more words. He stood there and looked at you until you said, “Well, you know where we are if you need anything. Bye, Joel.” He nodded and watched you walk away.

—---------

Joel and the Adlers. Those were the only people you were aware of who ever lived in that house. You put on another dress. It was a lightweight, black fabric. Low-cut, flowy, came down to your knees with elbow length sleeves that were kind of see through and flared out.

You were too curious not to bring up the clothes. Over lunch, you asked, “The Adlers didn’t have a daughter when they lived here, did they?”

He seemed to be thinking it over as he finished chewing. “Not that I know of. Why?”

“Whose clothes are these?”

“Ah,” he said. “Well they’re yours now, peaches.”

You smiled. “Before, though.”

“Why? Do you like’em? They look good on ya. Are they the right size?”

“I like’em a lot. They’re nice, they fit well.”

He raised his eyebrows and proudly revealed, “Picked’em up at the boutique.” His cheeks turned pink as he looked at you for approval. “Wasn’t much left. Wasn’t sure you’d like’em.” He took a bite of his salad.

“Wow,” you nodded. You were nearly speechless that he stocked that room for you. If there wasn’t much left at the boutique, he must’ve grabbed anything in your general size. Maybe that’s how he ended up with The Dress.

“Wanted to have what ya needed here, just in case.” He nodded as he chewed. “S’why it took me a few days to come by after Bill and Frank left.”

“That’s nice, Joel.” It was a little awkward. You didn’t know what to say.

He continued to explain himself. “Men like me and Bill, we’re protectors.” He put down his fork to gesticulate. “So when your papa asked me to make sure you’d be okay, I took it real serious. Did everything I could to be ready for any scenario.”

You slowly nodded and he looked at you in anticipation of further response. You said, “Well, you went above and beyond.”

Your face must have given away your shock. Joel sighed. “Might’ve gotten carried away.” He looked down and lowered his voice. “Been a while since I had someone to care for. I guess the idea of someone even possibly needin’ me. . . ” Your heart hurt for him. “Hell, maybe I wanted to remember what it felt like. Look at me playin’ dress-up, right?” He laughed at himself, but his eyes were somber.

You took his hand into yours and looked him in the eyes. “Thank you, Joel.”

“I’m glad they fit,” he said. “Glad ya can use’em.” He took a sip of water, then quickly swallowed it to clarify, “I mean, I’m not glad ya had to leave home. Just glad I could be here.”

“Yeah.” You squeezed his hand. He kissed yours and let it go. “This is really good, by the way. Love the dressing.”

“It’s basil. Grew it outside. I’ve got some herb seedlings in pots down in the basement. We can try to plant’em if ya want.”

Your face lit up at the possibility of going outside. “Yeah!”

“We’ll do the arugula, too. I dunno about the ‘berries, darlin’, but we’ll try.”

—----

It was a cloudy day, but still nice out. Joel seemed to think it might rain later. After lunch, he loaded up a wagon full of plants and supplies from the basement, and the two of you walked through the orchard. The fresh air was invigorating after being stuck in the house.

“‘Member which tree is ours?” Joel asked.

When you correctly pointed it out, he stopped the wagon and let the handle sit. You looked at him shyly as he looked you up and down. “C’mere.” He gently turned you to face him. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” He cradled your head with both hands. You tilted your chin, then he planted a long, affectionate kiss on your lips.

When you got to the garden beds at the back of the orchard, Joel said, “we should plant’em together so they cross-pollinate. Where do you wanna put’em?” Joel watched your face as you walked around them and evaluated the options.

The garden bed to the right already had a pumpkin vine with beautiful flowers. That bed looked more settled, darker, and fertile. “I didn’t know you had pumpkins,” you marveled. “Maybe by those?”

Joel looked down at the garden bed. “Yeah, hopefully they’ll fruit.” He smiled up at you without raising his head again.

Joel used a spade to dig shallow holes, then you nestled the roots in the holes and both of you patted the soil down. First the arugula, then the basil, then the longshot–the strawberries,

“Pat it down, but not too tight,” he said.

When you were finished, you knelt by the vine and traced a flower with your fingers. Its warm colors were cheerful. “When the pumpkins grow, can we eat’em?”

“Sure, darlin’.” Joel looked down at the vine, squatting right beside you. “Y’know, the flower’s edible, too.”

“It is?” Your stomach rumbled at the thought of eating something new.

Half of Joel’s mouth curled into a small smile. “I reckon you’ve never had a flor de calabaza taco, then. Granted, not sure how ya would’ve.”

“Flor de calabaza?”

“Pumpkin flower. Haven’t had one in a while myself. Go on, pick a couple. Let’s try it.”

You plucked one. “Good choice,” he said, giving you a flashback to when he caught you with one of his peaches. The embarrassment flooded you all over again as you picked two more. Joel saw your face change, and he smiled, hopefully not thinking about the origin of your nickname. You wondered how often he thought about it. He picked a flower of his own, leaving a bit of vine on it, then stroked your cheek and said “c’mere.” He looked in your eyes and put his flower behind your ear. He kissed you on the lips, then wrapped an arm around you and began to stand, bringing you up with him.

Joel looked up at the sky, squinting. “Ah, hell. Gimme that cloth.” He knelt down and finished patting the soil as you retrieved the cloth from the wagon. You helped him cover the newly planted arugula, basil, and strawberries to protect them from washout.

—--

You hung out in the kitchen, helping Joel make dinner. The apple blossom in the jar still looked beautiful. He knew how to take care of things. You washed the pumpkin flowers, then twirled one against your nostrils as Joel cooked wild turkey. You inhaled the petals and tried to imagine what they’d taste like. Joel cooked the flowers with the turkey. They were delicious. Granted, anything new to eat was appealing in principle. Novelty was its own seasoning.

After dinner that night, Joel needed to do some work outside before the rain. He showed you a shelf of books and games near the fireplace, then watched your face as you browsed them. You picked up one that you liked as a girl but hadn’t read in years. Joel went out through the basement. You heard him dragging a tarp out.

There were a lot of thoughts distracting you from your book. Your feelings for Joel overwhelmed you. At certain moments, it felt too good to be true. You also reflected on your intimacy and felt like things were moving fast. You understood why: you felt safe and protected, and your body’s physical need for his was totally natural. But the speed also made it feel fragile somehow. Like if you looked down, you might be falling through the air, not realizing you ran off a cliff.

There was also the question: If a connection this special formed so quickly, could it come undone just as fast? You couldn’t rid your head of his wounded face when you said you were lonely. You hurt his feelings and panicked, as if you needed to give him everything you could at that moment to prove that you loved him. As much as you enjoyed having him in your mouth like that, it felt impulsive in hindsight. Desperate, and you hoped he didn’t see it that way. Pathetic, even. But the memory of it turned you on all the same.

You replayed other encounters in your mind and felt like you were largely the one driving things. Burying your fear and grief in his lap. It embarrassed you to think about, but you also felt relieved that there wasn’t really any pressure. It was like Joel said, whatever you want and that’s all. You said you wanted it in your mouth, and of course he wouldn’t discourage it. Then he wouldn't be giving you everything.

The sound of metal banging then scraping on concrete stirred you from your thoughts. Then the basement door opened and shut twice.

—------

When Joel came back inside, it was nearly your typical bedtime and you were cozy on the sofa. You were curled up on your side with the book on your thigh and your eyes closed. You were only half asleep, but you let him take the book. He also spread a blanket over you. When his bedroom door closed, you sat up and opened the book again. There was a black thumbprint on the open page, and it smelled like ash. It gave you butterflies to see his thumbprint. You liked the idea of having part of him in the book as you read it. You knew how irrational these feelings were, but it didn’t stop them.

Joel’s shower turned on. The walls were so thin that you could hear everything. A cabinet opening, the shower door, changes in the rhythm of the water flow. You could hear that he brushed his teeth in the shower. Maybe not just in the shower. He always seemed to taste fresh. A few minutes after the water turned off, Joel came out of his room in jeans and a white t-shirt that wasn’t tucked in. The shirt hugged his pecs and arms and gave you an even deeper, needier appreciation for his physique. The casual look was really attractive on him. You needed him so bad it hurt. If you couldn’t have him forever, you weren’t sure what you would do. If he ended up with anyone else—there was no reason for this thought to even cross your mind, but the fleeting idea of it made your temples weak. He was too perfect.

You were sitting on the couch hugging your knees when he sat down next to you. He put his hand on your knee and dipped his head to look at you. You took a deep breath through your nose. Mint and pine. His post-shower fragrance made your chest tingle.

“You okay, peaches?”

“Yeah.” You mustered a smile. “Just tired. Guess I should go to sleep.”

“Sure, darlin’. Want me to tuck you in?”

Your heart sank at the lack of an invitation. “Yeah.”

Joel took your hand and led you upstairs. While you were in the bathroom getting ready to sleep, Joel made the bed for you before turning the covers down for you to get in.

“There ya go.”

“Thanks.” You got under the covers, tempted to make room for him but not wanting to come on too strong or look desperate.

He sat down on the edge of the mattress and leaned over you like he had in the morning. “Need anything at all, I’m right downstairs.”

“Thank you.”

Joel kissed you goodnight. You were a little sad when he didn't try anything, but you had already said you were tired. In your heart, you felt like he'd always be patient with you. If you wanted to slow things down, it was yourself you had to worry about. But in your heart, that wasn’t what you wanted anyway. You just hoped Joel didn’t think less of you for needing him so much.

—-----------

You woke up in the middle of the night to a deafening clap of thunder. You sat up and your hand went to your chest. You could feel your heart pounding. The wash of your blood through your valves echoed in your ears. Outside, branches rustled loudly and snapped in the wind.

You were unsettled lying there awake and alone. You wondered why Joel didn't just have you sleep in his bed. Maybe he was trying to be respectful, but these were the things that made you second guess the pace on your end. You lay there alone, and began to hear creaking and clattering indoors that made your heart race. Joel was right downstairs, but he never felt so far away. The thunder was okay, but the other noises made your mind race with thoughts of whatever happened the other night at your house. Whatever Joel saved you from. The distorted version of Call Me echoed in your mind.

You worked up the courage to get out of bed. You crept downstairs like you did the night before. A flash of lightning startled you. When a louder, longer crack of thunder followed, you quickened your steps, hanging onto the bannister for dear life so you wouldn’t slip in the dark.

Joel’s bedroom door was cracked open, so you let yourself in. It was almost pitch black dark. He was on his back in the middle of the bed with the covers pulled half down. You couldn’t make out his face, but his breathing told you he was fast asleep. You went around to the side farthest from the bedroom door and smoothed your nightgown under you as you lifted up the comforter and gently sat down. You brought up your feet and slipped under the covers. Joel’s breathing changed, but he didn’t move until there was a louder clap of thunder. You scooted closer and whispered his name.

His head jolted up and he gasped. “You okay?”

“Yeah. But I got scared of the storm.”

“‘C’mere, darlin’.” He turned onto his side to face you and stretched his arm out. You scooted over and laid your head on it. He draped his other arm over you. “You’re okay, I got ya.” He pulled you closer and planted a kiss on your forehead.

You lay there with your arm nestled between you and your hand on his chest. He touched your hair and kissed you on the head a few more times, then dipped his head to kiss your lips, nudging your head up to face him. The kiss was languid and both your lips came to a rest without pulling away. You stayed like that, both of you breathing through your noses with your lips nestled between each other’s. His breathing slowed again, and your breath began to match his. Your lips finally fell away as you drifted off in his arms to the sound of the storm.

In the middle of the night, you woke up on your back with Joel half on top of you, one of his legs between yours. You stirred and he put more weight on you. He sighed your name without waking up, and the sound of it in his mouth gave you butterflies. Then he fisted your nightgown over your breast and slurred, “‘m sorry.” His body jerked and he gasped, then relaxed again. A few seconds later, he mumbled, “had to.” His breath deepened. “For us.”

Your mind became an empty pit, and your heart raced. “Had to what,” you whispered.

“Please." He became unintelligible. "Please," he repeated in distress.

“Had to what, Joel?”

He jolted awake at the sound of his name. He jerked his head up then relaxed as he felt you beneath him. “You ok, baby?”

“Yeah, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

He took some of his weight off you, rolling back onto his side and resting a massive hand on your chest. “Sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.”

He sighed and rested his forehead on your shoulder for a few seconds. Then you asked, “What were you dreaming about?”

“Hmm. . . didn’t know I was dreamin’,” he said. “But I reckon I’d dream about you, darlin’.”

“What about me?”

“Ohh, you and me. . .” He kissed your nose, then your lips, then whispered, “and the rest of our lives.” His words bypassed your mind and wrapped your heart in the tightest little hug. It was already getting difficult to imagine a future without him. You could hardly picture it at this point. What would you even be doing? The same things you’d done your whole life, at the same house, with no hope of meeting someone to share it with. Even if you met someone, you couldn’t possibly imagine anyone else making you feel this way.

—-----------

The storm had died down. By then, it was just the loud patter of rain, darkened with a steady rumble. Joel pulled you close and planted light kisses on your mouth. Then he slid his tongue between your lips and the kisses became deeper. He shifted to hover over you, and you reached out to trace his form, starting with a hand on each pec, sliding them over his shoulders and down to where his triceps stretched his sleeves. You could imagine nothing hotter than Joel with his hair out of place, shoulders and biceps bulging through his white t-shirt. He leaned down to kiss you like he hadn’t seen you in days.

He lowered himself to lay half on top of you again, and you felt the warm shape of his cock hardening against your hip. You and me, and the rest of our lives. . . Between his words, his weight, and his passion, you melted under him. He rested his forearms on either side of your torso. He planted a kiss on your cheek, then your chin, then your throat. His lips opened and closed, opened and closed, crawling wetly up and around your throat without ever breaking contact. His hips pushed his hardness against you and you sighed. He sealed his lips in the crook of your neck and sucked, moaning quietly into your skin. He tore his mouth from your neck with a low sigh to say, “You’re gorgeous, baby.” His voice was hoarse from sleep or want.

He sealed his lips around yours and you could feel his affection with every brush of his tongue. You could taste all the words he wanted to say–that he was desperate for you, would do anything for you, could never lose you. You kissed him back, slowly but hungrily, your hips lifting into him, telling him without words that he could have all of you, you were truly his. You kissed harder, your mouth hanging onto his for dear life, and he moaned into your mouth. A groan was building in your chest but you just wanted to hear him.

—

He sighed as his hardness dug into you, then his hand reached down between your legs, under your nightgown. He lightly dragged his middle finger up and down the crotch of your panties, still kissing you deeply. Then he traced the same line with several fingers flattened together. He broke the kiss to try to read your eyes in the dark. Then he said, “God, I love you so much.” Before you could say it back, he covered your mouth with his. His hips slowly rolled into you as he sucked and tasted your mouth. The rhythm of his stiff cock against your hip made you physically weak with desire.

You tried to shift your hips under him. He got the message and put himself between your legs, resting both his forearms on the bed again. With his cock laying heavily against your mound, you ached with need, dying to be filled, at least by his fingers. But you were also a little shy about how needy you felt. He kissed you with so much love, and you felt just as much for him, but your brain took over for a moment and your lips stopped moving.

The moment you started overthinking it, Joel noticed and pulled back. He experimentally grinded his cock against your front. He leaned his temple against yours and whispered, “Just ‘cause it's there don’t mean ya gotta do anything with it.”

You breathed an internal sigh of appreciation, even though you were salivating to have it in your mouth again. To have it anywhere, everywhere.

—

He cupped your cheek and stroked it with his thumb. “I just wanna make ya feel good. Can I do that?” You nodded “mm-hm,” and his hand returned between your legs, ghosting your clit through the fabric. “Cause I don’t have to,” he went on. “Won’t hurt my feelings if ya go back to your bed, okay?” You nodded. “We’ll just do what you want,” he said. Except for what I want most, you thought to yourself.

Joel reached down to adjust his boxers, then he backed up and kissed his way down your body. Every press of his lips through the satin gown made you throb more. The faint silhouette of his hair made you imagine he was looking up at your face after every kiss, making sure you were still with him. Of course you were. The nightgown had already ridden up. He pushed it further, planted his head between your legs, and kissed you through the cotton of your underwear—softly, then harder. His mouth drew a long sigh out of you as the tension inside you swelled.

His fingers hooked into the hem of your panties and he slowly dragged them down. He covered your warmth with his mouth before you could feel the cool air. The underside of his tongue licked down your dripping seam as his fingers on your thighs continued pulling your panties down.

His head broke away to finish taking them off, and he breathed, “you’re my favorite taste in the world, baby.”

His mouth returned between your legs, and he devoured you just like before. Licking, sucking, flicking his tongue, moaning into you. When he began to fuck you with his tongue, your need to be filled by his cock only strengthened and demanded attention. You said, “Get me ready.”

“Hmm?”

“Ready for you. . .You said my body has to be ready, too.”

He dabbed the corner of his mouth with his wrist, and you could almost see his smile in the dark. “That what ya want?” His hair was out of place already, which made you want him even more.

“Yeah,” you whispered.

“That’s what we’ll do.”

—-

He started while he was still between your legs. He inserted a finger and kept kissing your clit while you sighed. He pulled his head away and flattened his fingers. He gently rubbed you as he crawled back up the bed and stopped with his face near yours. His face hovered an inch from yours as he rubbed your desperate, slippery, beautiful mess. He stroked you just right, then pushed his finger back into you, his lungs audibly sucking in a long, deep breath.

Your head tilted up and your mouth fell open. He pushed the finger to the hilt and an obscene moan fell out of your mouth.

“Oh baby, you sound so beautiful.” He began to move his hips against your thigh. “This okay? Or you want me to take it away.”

“No, no, don’t take it away.”

He exhaled half a laugh and slowly pumped his thick finger, staying mostly inside you, curling against your front wall. “How’s it feel?”

“Really good,” you whispered. “Gimme another like last time.”

His cock twitched against you and he kissed you as he slowly pushed another finger in. He moved them in and out and his hand hugged your mound as he did it. Your hips lifted into his hand and you broke the kiss with a sigh that became a whimper. He groaned softly at your desperation and kept rutting against your thigh, fucking you slowly with his fingers. After following a steady rhythm for a while, he clamped his palm down on your mound, adding friction to your clit as he worked his hand. He began to bring his fingers out a little more to slicken your clit again. You throbbed and moaned and could hardly stand it.

“Joel,” you sighed, and struggled to find words. You sputtered out, “I —Joel, I just — I want–ugh–want you, so bad.”

His voice was low and soothing. “Ohhhh, I know it darlin’,” he commiserated. He planted a kiss on your neck as he continued the push of his fingers inside you and his cock against you. “You’ll have me, baby,” he murmured huskily. “We’ll have each other.” He worked his fingers and grinded his cock against you in opposite beats of the same rhythm.

“Another one,” you whispered.

“It’s too much, baby.”

“It’s not,” you whined.

“Let’s add one of yours.” He removed his fingers almost entirely and lifted his palm up to make room for your hand under his. “C’mon.” You nestled your hand under his and carefully added your middle finger. You slid your finger in against your front wall, nestled in a triangle with his two fingers as he pushed inside again. You couldn’t reach very far, but it was enough to feel the stretch. His hand engulfed yours and controlled the rhythm. It was a different feeling, touching yourself with your finger nestled under his. You enjoyed the stretch and his hand engulfing yours, but you could only imagine how much better the smooth tip of his cock would feel.

Moving your finger with his, Joel asked, “Feel good?”

“Yours feel better.”

He lifted his palm and you removed your hand. He kissed you as he began pistoning his fingers deeper and harder. He swirled and scissored them as though making room inside you.

“Joel,” you sighed and your spine curved, jutting your breasts into the air. Your nipple fell out of your nightgown and his mouth was on it right away.

He kissed your breast, moaning into your nipple. Then he kissed your chest, then your neck. “God damn, baby,” he murmured hoarsely.

“Just one more,” you begged.

He grunted with a strong thrust against your hip. “Ahh—Might be too much.”

He paused his rhythm and slowly added his ring finger. So slow it was torture.

“No, don’t stop,” you whined. “Just give it to me.”

He gave it to you, grouping his fingers as close as he could together. The stretch burned by the time he was half in, but you asked for more. You winced at the burn and he took the finger back out.

“I’m okay, it felt good,” you reassured him, but he went back to fucking you harder with two fingers instead, and that felt even better since he didn’t hold back. The burn quickly faded, drowned out by a throbbing tingle that consumed your whole torso, and spread to your thighs, down your legs, making your knees weak.

Before long, you were writhing under him. He sucked your breast again and you moaned his name. He sucked your neck, then whispered into it, “You’ll be a beautiful bride.” Your breath hitched and your eyes widened at his words, but you didn’t want him to stop. He continued, “You want that, right?”

You nodded and heard yourself whisper, “yes.”

Joel sighed and brought his lips back to yours. He pressed his hand into your clit as he worked his fingers to bring you over the edge. “Yeah,” he breathed. Your body jerked and you moaned. His hand hugged your cunt as you came. “Ohhh, gooood giirrrl.” He kissed one half of your mouth as your climax continued. His breath was hot against your cheek. “Love feelin’ ya like this.”

—------

The rain had slowed even more, and the thunder was fading. Joel used his wet hand to pull his stiff manhood out of his boxers with a quiet groan. You reached down to feel it and he shivered at your touch.. The tip was shiny with precum, smeared from rutting against you through his boxers. He must have been aching as bad as you were. You took your hand away, opting to wait and see what he had in mind.

“I don’t have to do this here,” Joel said, his voice weak with need. Then he added in good humor, “But it does need doin’,” and those words landed between your legs.

Your lips parted and you took a deep breath, your eyelids heavy from your orgasm. “Do it here.”

Joel gathered more slick from between your thighs, and the contact gave you an aftershock. He stroked himself and breathed heavily. He rested with his hip and forearm on the bed, and you turned onto your side to face him.

He got closer, right up against you with just enough room to stroke himself. You listened to the wet slide of his hand around his shaft, his breathing, his soft grunts. It occurred to you this was something he did regularly, and now you could imagine it so vividly. The idea of Joel thinking about you and getting himself off was almost too hot to bear. You draped your top leg over him.

He fisted himself and kissed your shoulder. He nosed your nipple, then dragged it up until his face lifted off your chest. He grunted softly as he pumped himself and pressed his nose, then his mouth, into your neck. He was farther down than you on the bed, and the head of his cock was so close to where you ached for it, you could feel the heat radiating as he stroked himself. Then it grazed you, sending a zap of energy through your loins.

“I swear I'm ready,” you whispered.

His voice became shaky. “God damn, I wanna pack you full of this.” He grunted with hastening strokes. “That’s what it’s for, baby.” He bowed his head, and his disheveled hair grazed your cheek. He brought his face up again and kissed you on the lips. “Gonna be all yours,” he murmured hoarsely into your cheek, then added, “and you’re all mine."

"I'm all yours."

"Oh, God," he shuddered as he rolled onto his back. "Baby, I—Ohhh," He exhaled loudly and his body jerked as he came onto himself, sighing "ohhh God, baby." He caught his breath and laid there in silence with you. You rolled onto your back again. He sat up and took the soiled t-shirt off, then laid on his side facing you and rested a heavy hand on your chest.

–

With your blood finally flowing back to your brain, you considered what Joel asked and what you said. Yes, you wanted to be his beautiful bride. On some level, it occurred to you that yes was perhaps the only answer, but did that matter if it was your heart’s desire, too?

You asked, “You think we’re meant to be together?”

“Oh, peaches,” he sighed. “I’m sure of it.” He kissed you and stroked your cheek, then held you tighter. “You’re my world, and there is nothin’ I wouldn’t do to be with you.” He rolled you toward him, nestling your head under his chin, and held you until you fell back asleep.

—------------------

When you woke up in the morning, Joel was freshly showered and standing next to the bed, buttoning a flannel shirt as he watched you sleep. When you yawned, his eyes brightened.

“Why don’t I always sleep here?” you asked sleepily.

He laughed silently to himself with a side-eye at the floor. “Don’t trust myself, darlin’.”

Your face burned at the implication and you shyly hid half your face. His smile faded as he looked at you, then he added hoarsely, “God, if you knew how many times I’d thought about you.” There wasn’t so much as a hint of shame in his voice. It had the warmth in your cheeks traveling down, down, down. . . “We’re almost there, baby, but we gotta do it right. We’re almost there, I promise.” He reached into his pants to tuck in his shirt and adjusted himself while he was there. Your eyes fixated on the bulge in his jeans. “God damn,” he exhaled. “Turns me on thinkin’ about it.”

He lightly rubbed his bulge in just one stroke and adjusted himself again from outside the jeans. It didn’t seem like he was trying to start anything, but he got on the bed and hunger spread across his face as he reached you. He kissed you needily and tore the sheets off you. You let him in between your legs and wrapped them loosely around his thighs, your feet resting near his knees. He pulled down your nightgown and sucked your nipple, inhaling deeply through his nose. Then he sucked his neck, and your clit throbbed against the friction of his jeans. He hardened against you and kept on for a minute, not escalating things further. Then he tore himself away with a groan.

—-

“Wish I could stay here all day and just do this,” he lamented as he got off you to sit on the edge of the bed. “But I gotta go to the QZ.”

You protested, “What for?”

“Somethin’ I gotta do every month, as long as the radio says so.”

“Can I come?”

He shook his head. “Too dangerous.” You expected as much.

“You really have to go?”

He sighed. “Yeah, darlin’.”

“You’re leaving me alone?”

“Your parents left you here for a reason, ‘member? Cause it ain’t safe out there. You think they want me takin’ you there anyway?”

“I know. But you said it isn’t safe here either.”

“It’s safe-er here.”

“Just don’t go,” you whined.

“If I don't, they're gonna know somethin's wrong, baby.”

“I don’t-.”

“--nothin’s wrong, but they're gonna think somethin's wrong.”

“Something is wrong,” you reminded him. “Abe’s missing.”

“He–Abe–darlin’.” Joel sighed, shook his head, and abandoned the topic. He looked down and rubbed his temples with his middle finger and thumb. “I’m sorry, peaches. I gotta go, and I can’t take ya with me.”

“Will you check on Frank at the Army hospital?”

Joel hesitated, then said, “Sure, baby.”

“Are you going to Tommy’s? Bill’s staying there, right?”

“I’m gonna try, darlin’. Don’t wanna leave ya for too long, though.”

—----

While Joel made you breakfast, you went upstairs to change. You also sat down at the vanity and used the stationary to write a short note to Bill and Frank.

Love you and miss you so much, but Joel is taking good care of me.

Joel read it. “This is real sweet, peaches. But do you want’em thinkin’ I’m takin’ care of ya? Thought you wanted to show you could do it.” He made a good point. You went upstairs, started over.

I love and miss you both so much. Frank, Please get well soon.

When you gave it to Joel, he folded it up and put it in his pocket. He told you to stay inside, and reminded you not to open the door for anyone but him. He would be back in a few hours.

—----------------------

After Joel left, you lay around for a while thinking about him and your life together. You went to the kitchen and were about to idly open the pantry, when the counter beside it seemed to move, catching your eye. There was a trail of ants leading to the apple blossom in the jar. You stepped back. The blossom that had looked so nice the night before was yellowed and crawling with them. It was like time was moving in slow motion. You left the scene as it was. You grabbed a shiny apple from the basket on the opposite counter and went to the sofa to read. You couldn’t wait for Joel to get home and tell you how Frank was doing. The minutes crawled by, and you tried to immerse yourself in the story to pass the time.

Only a few pages into your book, you were about to bite into your apple when you heard squawking outside. You set down the book and went to look out the kitchen window. You couldn’t see where the noise was coming from. As you looked out into the orchard, you were startled by a tickle on your arm and flicked off an ant with a gasp. You hadn’t so much as touched the counter–it felt unfair. The squawking continued, and you were going stir crazy wanting to go out and see what all the fuss was about.

Less than an hour after Joel left, you decided to break his rule. You knew he was protecting you, but it also didn’t seem fair to expect you to stay cooped up inside all on your own. He could have taken you with him. You knew he could have protected you from any harm that found you. You looked around and couldn’t find your shoes. Not in your room, not by the front or back door, not in the living room. You wouldn’t let that stop you.

You went outside barefoot, careful to look in front of your feet so you wouldn’t step on anything dangerous. The sky was gray and dim and the cool air was refreshing even with its humidity. Branches were scattered everywhere from the wind of the storm. The ground beneath the peach trees was carpeted with yellow leaves sticking wetly to each other. One third of a peach tree was hanging by a thread off its trunk, the tips of the branches scraping the ground with every breeze. It could have snapped off at any moment, while the rest of the tree stood proud like it didn’t know.

You followed the squawking and found an apple tree full of crows. When you approached, they swarmed into the sky, forming a cloud before settling together on another tree. With nothing better to do, you followed them. The second tree was near yours and Joel’s. They flew toward the back of the orchard and you didn’t follow. You shuffled around your tree, looking on every branch for a fresh apple blossom. On the ground, there were layers of leaves and lots of fallen apples. You were moving your feet slowly and carefully, and your toes caught on something inorganic. Something rigid, fabric. You lifted your foot and when the bill of a hat emerged, you reflexively kicked it away as if it were alive or worse. As if you could simply kick away the pit in your gut. Your stomach turned as you looked at your Red Sox cap on the ground.

The crows squawked and squawked, and your heart pounded. You looked around the orchard as if something might be closing in on you. The trees seemed to get closer, the sky seemed to darken. Your thoughts kept repeating, there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to be with you. Nothing. Nothing in the world, peaches. You refused to articulate the gut feeling into a thought. You wouldn’t dignify it. You took a deep breath and grounded yourself, focusing on the feeling of the wet leaves stuck to your ankles.

You covered the baseball cap with leaves again, burying the feeling as best you could, and rushed back toward the house. On your way back, you stepped on a broken twig. When you got inside, you saw it was bleeding.

You cleaned up your foot, then it occurred to you to check the living room closet. You opened the closet door, and the other cap—Jesse’s cap—was still there, exactly where you saw it. To your relief, you also found your shoes neatly laid on the closet floor alongside some loafers and boots. You left them untouched.

You settled in with your book again, hoping to distract yourself. You bit into the apple. Your teeth sliced right through the skin and sank into soft, mealy flesh that almost making you gag. You tossed it outside into the leaves because you didn’t want any more ants, then you locked the door behind you. You sat back down on the sofa and didn’t even try to pick up the book again. You resigned yourself to facing your thoughts.

You explored the worst case scenario of what Joel might have done to be with you. You concluded it was silly to think you had been that important to a man you hardly knew. It was narcissistic, you told yourself, to think he loved you that much. That he would really do anything, just to hold you in his arms. It was the fabric of fairy tales, and it was grotesque. Especially because it didn’t disgust you. It gave you butterflies, and not just the nervous kind.

—-------

As soon as you heard Joel’s truck pull into the driveway, your mind returned to Frank. You had a few seconds before Joel came in, and in that time you realized you should greet Joel before asking about anyone else. You didn’t want to be rude. When the door opened, you got up and kissed Joel and told him you missed him. On your way back to the sofa, you noticed a spot of blood from your foot on the flooring and hoped Joel wouldn’t see it.

You sat down on the couch and asked him how Frank was. Joel’s face was solemn as he took a seat next to you and put his hand on your knee. Your chest tightened at this gesture and the next few seconds felt like an hour until Joel spoke.

"He's doin' better, baby."

You broke down in tears of relief. You would have cried no matter what. Whether Frank was better, worse, or even if Joel didn’t see him, there would’ve been tears of happiness, sadness, or fear. Joel took you in his arms and you buried your tears in his neck.

“So they think he’s gonna recover?” you asked.

“Think so.” Joel looked at you, concerned.

“What do they think it is?”

“They’re not sure, darlin’. S’pose it could be an allergy, or environmental. So it’s a good thing you’re here with me.”

“Did you give’em my letter?”

“Yeah.” Joel leaned forward, lifted himself for a moment, and reached into his back pocket. He handed you your letter and you unfolded it so quickly it almost ripped. Joel slowly rubbed your back as you looked at the piece of paper and tried to steady your hands.

There was a note in Frank’s handwriting:

We love you so much. Protect yourself.

----------------------

Thank you all so much for reading and engaging with my unhinged story. Y'all are truly the best. 💙

I challenged myself to do the smut scene with little if any visual description, hope it worked out okay.

I do not expect the next chapter to be nearly as long.

There are more virgins on my joel master list, and you can follow @toxicfics and turn on notifications for fic alerts.

All Joel:@ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @gracieispunk @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @milla-frenchy @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @am-3-thyst @may-machin @pedromania91 @sloanexx @paleidiot

The Lincoln tag list will be on the toxicfics reblog 💙

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #dark!joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #dbf!joel miller #toxicanonymity ☠️#lincoln!joel☠️#tw manipulation #joel miller smut #the last of us #the last of us smut #content label #cw age gap

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petcr3 · 10 months

Text

dreams | rhett abbott x reader

summary: rhett asks if reader ever wants to move out of their apartment, and before either of them know it, they’re planning out a future together.

word count: ~1.4k

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, my usual in depth cuddle descriptions because i am not normal, rhett getting to feel loved uwu, rhett being romantic because he IS i just know

a/n: this was completely unplanned, i was just yearning so hard an entire fic fell out

You’re curled up against Rhett’s chest, his cheek resting against the top of your head as he idly trails his fingers up and down the length of your spine.

“You ever think about leaving this place?” he asks.

“Wabang?”

“No.” A chuckle. “Well, yeah. But I just meant the apartment.” You hum in understanding, fingertips idly dancing along his side.

“Yeah. I wouldn’t mind living in a bigger place. Maybe a house someday.”

“Any chance I’m in that house with you?”

“Of course you are. There’s a little spot for you to curl up at the foot of my bed and everything.” Laughter rumbles in his chest and he leans down to nip harmlessly at the shell of your ear.

“Mean.”

You giggle and hide your face against his chest. He can feel you smiling against his skin. Despite your transgression, Rhett reaches up to play with your hair and you let out a contented sigh.

“There’s no house without you in it,” you say after a moment. It catches him a little off guard. Sure, he likes to think he plays a part in your fantasies about the future, but it’s something else to hear that he’s a fixture in them. Something clenches near his heart–– a beautiful ache that comes from a missing piece sliding home.

“Tell me more about it?” he asks, feeling suddenly a little vulnerable. You nose affectionately at his chest and pull him a little closer

“It’s got a lot of light. It’s big, but not too big, like, you can’t get lost in it. We wouldn’t need that kind of space. Mostly it just feels open and bright, you know? Lots of sun. Our bedroom has its own bathroom so I can listen to you sing to yourself in the shower.” Rhett lets out a quiet snort.

“Thought you did that anyway.”

“Yeah but now I can do it lying down. It’s a game changer.”

You’re funny, Rhett thinks. People don’t notice that enough. “Anyway, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted…” Your head bobs a little with his gentle laughter.

“Go on.”

“We have a big ol’ bathtub–– one where we both fit.”

“Sexy.” He can’t help himself. You pinch his side, but he can still feel you smiling..

“We have a big yard. Maybe even big enough to keep horses, if you wanted.”

“What about a dog?”

“Well we’d have to get two, so they can have a friend.”

“Agreed.”

“What about you? What are you adding?” Rhett thinks for a moment.

“Nice deck. Rocking chairs or a porch swing so we can sit out and watch the stars at night.” You let out a happy little sound, and he can tell you’re picturing it. “Lots of blankets out there. You can get nice n’ cozy and I’ll bring us out hot toddies.” Rhett knows he’s not playing exactly by the rules of the game, but he’s starting to get lost in the idea of a future with you–– one that you seem to already be counting on. “The dogs like to sit by our feet. At least one of ‘em’s too big to sit in your lap, but you let ‘em anyway because you’re soft on ‘em.” He smiles. “Guess I probably am, too.”

You’ve always loved Rhett’s voice. It’s sexy as hell, sure, but it’s also unbelievably calming. Paired with his arms wrapped around you, it’s positively lethal. But he’s so wrapped up in the fantasy you two are creating, he doesn’t notice the way your breathing evens out or your grip on his waist starts to slacken.

“Once it gets too cold we head inside and you tell me just to leave the mugs in the sink because you don’t wanna go up to the bedroom by yourself even if it’s just for a few minutes. Our bedroom is big, but it’s cozy. You picked out most of the furniture but you always tell everyone I helped. I built our bed frame, though. You like to brag about that.” He knows he’s right because you still tell everyone you know about the end table he made for your living room last year. When he starts speaking again, he hardly realizes what he’s saying. It just starts to flow out of him.

“I ask you to marry me in that bed. I got a ring and a proposal all planned out but you have to go and look so beautiful one night that my plans go right out the window. I take you out for a walk like I was going to, though, and get down on one knee. You don’t even let me get up, you practically tackle me to the ground saying yes again. Maybe we get married out in the yard or we find some place pretty to go. But I think the ceremony happens outside; that feels right. We make Amy the flower girl even if she’s not a kid anymore. I’m crying the whole damn time and I don’t care who sees. You hold my hand even if we’re not supposed to.” He isn’t sure if that’s a rule–– he thinks maybe it isn’t–– but he knows you’d break it if there was one.

“I know we haven’t talked about kids, but…” Finally Rhett catches himself. “Well, I guess I’m getting a little carried away, there, huh?” For the first time in several minutes, he realizes you haven’t said a word. He nudges his nose against the crown of your head. “Sweetheart?” You shift a little bit, saying nothing. Rhett can’t help but laugh when he realizes you’ve fallen asleep. He leans back just enough to drag his thumb gently underneath your eye. “Sweetheart,” he tries again, a little louder.

“Mmm?” The sheets rustle as you start to wake, the sounds of a slow inhale as it fills your lungs. “Rhett?”

“Hey, sleepyhead,” and he thinks that maybe he’s never loved you so much as he does now. It’s not the first time he’s felt it–– he falls more in love with you every damn day. But his chest is full of something honey-thick, and warm. Your groggy expression is the sweetest thing he’s ever seen. “Think you fell asleep.” You blink some of the sleep from your eyes.

“Oh fuck!” you swear through a yawn. Your eyes seem bigger than ever when you peer up at him apologetically. “I’m sorry, baby. It’s just you were playing with my hair and your voice is so soothing and––”

“It’s okay,” he says softly, “it was kinda cute.”

“No, but I wanna hear what you were saying!”

“You’re tired, honey. Let’s go to sleep and I’ll tell you in the morning.”

“No,” you say, wiggling out of his embrace and sitting up. “I wanna hear everything. No details skipped.” Rhett only smiles up at you, expression growing mischievous, lips sealed tight.

“Here,” you say, oblivious to the fact that he’d do anything you asked. “You can put your head in my lap. I’ll play with your hair. But you have to tell me everything I missed.” He chuckles and tucks his head against your thigh. His eyes flutter shut and a happy sigh leaves him as you begin to card your fingers through his hair.

“Where’d I lose you?”

“I let the big dogs sit on my lap.” He grins up at you, eyes peeking open.

“Oh good, so you missed the proposal.” You freeze.

“The what?”

“You heard me.” And the smug bastard has the nerve to shut his eyes again, settling back into your lap.

“Rhett Abbott, you open your eyes right now.”

“Hmm… nope.” You tug at his hair but he just lets out a contented groan. He can’t see you glaring at him, and it’s hard to keep it up when your heart is threatening to melt down into nothing and kill you. You think that maybe you’ve never loved Rhett as much as you do in this very moment.

“Did you mean it?” you ask, voice suddenly small. Rhett opens his eyes, expression serious now.

“Yeah, I did.”

“And you’re not even gonna tell me?” you cry. He smiles and turns his head to press a kiss against your tummy.

“I’ll tell you everything else. I promise. But some things ought to be a surprise, don’t you think?” You let out a huff, but it’s all fondness.

“Okay, so I’m a pushover with the dogs, and?”

“You leave the mugs in the sink overnight because you can’t stand to be without me, even for a second.” You give him a look, but you know it’s true.

Luckily, if everything goes to plan, you won’t have to.

#rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott #rhett abbott x you #outer range imagine #lewis pullman x reader #nobody perceive me #pls and thank you

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lavendermunson · 5 months

Text

candles - eddie munson

day 5 of leia's christmas tree farm

cw +18 nsfw. pet names. bruises they had rough sex the night before. clit play. unprotected p in v, be smart irl. tiny bit of somnophilia, r wakes up before anything happens and it's all consensual. established relationship.

When Eddie comes home from work, he sees how the trailer park is covered by an aura of darkness and cold. He gets into the trailer as fast as he can and finds you in his bed.

You are lying down, blankets wrapped around your body while the candles around the room light up your sleepy face. Outside is so eerie, however he feels so comfortable here, with you. The warmth of the candles hugs him, but there is something Eddie has been craving since his day started, you.

As the gentleman he is, he doesn’t wake you up. Instead, he climbs up from the end of the bed to get close to you, slowly pulling the sheets and blankets off. He grins at the sight of you wearing one of his big sweatshirts and your naked legs pressed together.

He rubs his hands together to warm them up and slowly part your legs open. Eddie gasps as he watches the slight bruises on your skin, carefully rubbing his fingers around them.

You wake up, thanks to a cold breeze of air hitting your body. You find Eddie sitting between your legs, his lips parted and his browns forming a frown.

“Eds? Are you okay baby?”

“Did I do this to you?”

“Oh, baby”

Last night’s sex was rough, more than other times. Eddie got too caught up in the moment, and honestly, you did too. His fingers dug into your skin so hard while he was eating you up, trying to keep your legs open as you moaned his name like a prayer.

“It happens, baby. There’s nothing wrong, you don’t have to worry about it because I like it”

He looks at you, his worried face switches as his pupils grow and you see that lust shining in his eyes.

“You like how I mark you up?” he asks, rubbing the insides of your thighs gently.

“Yes. Very much” you whisper, goosebumps rising in your arms as he gets his hands under your (his) sweatshirt to take it off of you. “You can do it again, I don’t mind”

“Who knew you were such a bad girl, huh?

“I’m not bad! I just think I look more pretty when you mark me up”

Eddie starts to kiss your bruises, soft lips dancing around your thighs. He takes his time, leaving pecks on every part of your naked skin, stopping on your tummy to leave wet and sloppy kisses. Your back arches a tiny bit, as you yearn for your body to touch his.

“You do look pretty when I mark you up” he murmurs against your skin, working his cold lips against your warmth until he kisses the pool of wetness on your panties. “But I gotta be gentle with you today”

“Oh, okay” A soft moan escapes from your lips, feeling your boyfriend’s impatient fingers play around the waist of your panties. Pulling them down and helping you get out of them, he starts by giving your pussy a little kiss.

Your body shakes as he works you up with his tongue, collecting your wetness and teasing your little bundle of nerves with slow kitty licks.

“Baby, baby-” you whine.

“Shhh, baby I told you I’ll be gentle with you” Eddie taps the sides of your thighs with his fingers, caressing your legs while he begins to suck your puffy and needy clit. Your back arches a little more, grinding his face. "You always taste so fucking good"

When he stops, he looks at you with his shiny eyes, his lips swollen with a mix of your juices and saliva. You watch his perfect curls bob against his face as he takes his pants and boxers off, leaving his huge cock out already leaking with precum.

“Please please I need you” Your soft whines make Eddie’s cock twitch.

“I know sweetheart, I know”

He gets fully on top of you, his chest bumping with your breasts and your sticky bodies pressed against each other perfectly, as pieces of a puzzle. One of his arms holds him in place while his other arm passes underneath you, to hold your back as you let yourself melt against his touch.

One of your hands finds his cock, holding it to press against your entrance. You rub the tip teasingly against your core after Eddie moves his hips to get inside you.

“God, honey” He feels your warm walls against his cock, as you take all of him so well. “That’s it, that’s my baby”

When you take all of him, he starts to move his hips slowly. Thrusting against you with delicacy, each one of his movements so soft and dreamy.

“Pretty, pretty” he coos, his open mouth against your jaw. His warm breath hits your neck as he hides his face. “Doing so well, baby”

“Baby, baby” you moan, hugging his waist with your legs while your hands play with his curls.

“I love you, I love you so much”

“I love you too, baby”

That night Eddie makes love to you, making you cum harder than ever. While the shiny gold ring waits for you at the bottom of his drawer.

reblog to support your creators! comments are appreciated !! ♡ thank you for following my christmas event, remember you can still request a gift!

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starluvsx · 7 months

Text

★𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬

𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Word count:1015

Proofread:yup

WARNINGS: insecure reader,kissing,kinda angst and fluff

A/N: this took embarrassingly long to finish😭

𖦹 𖦹

"Okay so the next question is 'who was your first kiss' and what's the story behind it" Nick shouted over Chris and Matt trying to explain why fairies are and aren't real to each other.Everyone in the car immediately had their own separate reaction to this question.

Nick was smiling ear to ear, most likely because of the embarrassment that came with answering the question.matts head was down with a cringed face.me and Chris both looked at each other knowingly before my cheeks flushed and he looked away.

Once everyone had their stories in their heads we looked around for who should go first. "y/n i think you should go first" chris said with a cocky smile.

5 years ago

"ok so what do you wanna watch?" chris said as he sat down next to me on the bed.a good amount of distance between us for friends so it's too bad i wanted to be more than that.i played the lack of romance off by just ignoring it,refusing to look over at his side profile while he flicked through an assortment of movies.

"no clue, what are my options?" I asked while staring at the tv.

“Uhm maze runner ‘Nah’ nightmare before Christmas ‘ehh’ hairspray ‘YES OMG YES’ ”was how the interaction went before he clicked on the movie I wanted.

𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞

While watching the movie we had gradually moved closer together.not on top of each other but definitely closer than before.now I was slouched down slightly with our shoulders touching, nothing crazy i know but I’ll take what I can get.

Once we got about an hour into the movie I began to zone out.letting myself to wander in my own thoughts.watching the romance movie only made these thoughts worse. “Jesus” I muttered under my breath.

“What, what’s wrong?”he asked, looking down at me.

“It’s nothing, just movies like this always make me sad.” I replied truthfully.I knew what I was about to say but I was ok with it.he was one of the few people I didn’t mind sharing these thoughts with.

“Why?” He asked with a puzzled look on his face.just one word for him but years of insecurities,self hatred and yearn for love for me.

“Cause I know I’ll never have anything like that, nobody will ever love me like that, ya know”I answered hesitantly while still staring at the tv.I had now sat up a little from the previous position I was in.being at the same level as him made me nervous especially since the topic of conversation but I had to,my back was killing me.

“Why do you think that?”Chris said with a slight laugh,as if he couldn’t believe I thought like that.now although the thought he was shook I found myself unloveable was comforting,I knew he was only being nice.

I looked at him for a second before saying what I had been thinking my whole life. “Dude I’m like the ugliest girl at school.” I answered honestly. “I mean it’s whatever, I know everyone thinks that.”I continued with a shrug at the end of my sentence.it felt weird talking about this but also for some reason, reliving.

The look he gave me after I said that wasn’t one I could describe or replicate.he looked shocked and confused at the same time almost. “I don’t think that…”he mumbled.if I hadn’t tuned out the movie long ago I wouldn’t have even heard him to be honest

“What” was all I could say.had i misheard him?I must've, right?

"I don't think you're the ugliest girl in the school, you're...you're beautiful ''he said, making me feel like I was in a scene from a movie.although i wanted to keep up my nonchalant act of not caring about what others thought,i simply couldn't.

i was shocked he had said this.my lips were slightly parted due to me knowing i wanted to say something but not really knowing what to say.i mean how does one respond to that.his eyes flicked down to my lips before the one thing i never thought would happen, happened

Before I could realize what he was about to do, the boy in front of me who I had been crushing on for like forever grabbed my jaw and connected our lips passionately.I was shocked at first but slowly melted into the kiss I had been longing to have for most of my life.

our mouths moved in sync while both of our eyes were closed.it felt like we were the only two people on the planet.once we pulled away i took a moment to look at the boy in front of me.his disheveled hair,piercing blue eyes, pinkish lips, he was perfect.i then said words i don't think i will ever forget saying. "i-i think your beautiful too"

my face heated up as i finished the story. "You guys are too cute, it makes me wanna throw up."Nick said jokingly. Normally I would respond with something snarky but if I opened my mouth i think I would burst out laughing out of embarrassment and nervousness.chris's head was just down, most likely with the same expression as me.

"We were so corny" he said, laughing as he picked his head up.although i thought the moment was really cute,it was pretty cringe when i think back on it.

"We were like 15,"I said in my own defense.

"yea and you wouldn't even get with me till like 2 years later!" my boyfriend responded.

"ok ok next story"i started with a huge smile on my face still.

#chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #fluff #influencers #sturniolo triplets #x reader #youtube #angst with a happy ending #cuteness #first kiss #celebrity #youtuber #teen romance

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elliesflower · 1 year

Text

i saw you in a dream [7]

summary; it's winter break and that guitar has got to go.

chapter; 7/10 2.3k words

cw (per chapter); language, angst, TW: CAT >:(

an; hellaaaaurrrrrr i don't have much to say except ur all amazing and wonderful and thank u so much for loving this story so hard. i love u all more than words. (also sorry not much ellie in this chapter, next chap will be longer and most likely have smut teehee) ((also this isn't proof read so sorry if there's weird mistakes i'll go back nd fix later ok love u bye!!))

Your last interaction with Ellie had you feeling pretty defeated. You had thought that maybe you were getting somewhere—but now, with Cat in the picture, you were ready to give up.

“I’ll fucking kill her,” Dina threatened when you explained the whole story. You shook your head, laughing. “Seriously, she has no right to fuck with your emotions like that.”

“Dee, it’s fine. I wouldn’t call it ‘fucking with me,’ either. Relationships can be messy and break ups are even messier. You of all people should know that.”

“Don’t you fucking dare even mention that disgusting, vile creature,” she pretended to gag at the thought of her ex. All the verbal abuse she had to endure, you’re amazed she lasted so long with them in the first place. “But seriously. You guys had a vibe. That was fucked up of her to not even mention it. It obviously seemed like she was intentionally keeping it from you.”

You pursed your lips, looking down at your hands as you picked at your cuticles.

“I don’t know…” you trailed off, shrugging your shoulders. You wanted to believe that Ellie wouldn’t do that to you. Realistically, you understood you barely knew her—the two of you had spent less than a full day together. Maybe it was silly to think she was letting you see her heart.

“No, no, don’t do that,” Dina pointed a finger at you accusingly. “Don’t do that hopeless romantic shit you always do. I’m telling you how it is.”

“Okay, and maybe it is,” you agreed. “But—”

“Hello?! No ‘but’s!’ You need to forget about her. You don’t want to get tangled up in that mess, trust me,” she was speaking from experience, and you knew this. You wanted to believe Dina was right. Who would want to be caught up in lesbian ex-girlfriend drama? And yes, the lesbian part makes a difference. Perhaps it was just the adrenaline of a new crush—the yearning to be in a relationship, so strong you feel like you’d do anything, anything to be with that person, no matter what they’ve done, no matter what they say. Lust can be dangerous.

“Okay, okay,” you gave in. “I’ll leave it alone.”

Dina squinted at you curiously. She probably didn’t believe you, but it didn’t matter. You knew she had your back, always. She’d never do something you weren’t okay with, and she’d forgive you if you did go crawling back to Ellie. Which was still very much…up in the air.

“That’s what I thought,” she said with a smirk, but it wasn’t very definitive.

The next few days were…weird, to say the least. With Christmas quickly approaching, the amount of people on campus slowly thinned out—Dina included. She was heading east to be with her family for the holidays, which left you alone in your dorm for a few days. You spent most of the time aimlessly scrolling on your phone, confirming next term’s classes, and making last-minute holiday plans with your own family. It was all very…mundane.

Which is a weird feeling; your outside life being so normal, while your brain was scrambling trying to make sense of your feelings about the whole Ellie situation. It had been over a week, and she hadn’t texted. Neither had you, but you weren’t sure what was left to say. You wanted to side with Dina, leave Ellie in the past and let Cat have her.

But the other part of you—the hopeless, yearning sapphic—wanted to reach out. Every time you saw a short-haired redhead from the back, your heart rate increased. It was a little pathetic, if you were being honest, the way your heart fell when they’d turn around and it was not in fact Ellie coming to reconcile. It made you want to call her; want to see her; want to see if the two of you could really become something, after all; want to know what else spilled from her lips when she was high, and anything else she’d give you.

It sure didn’t help that everytime you walked into your dorm you were stared down by the guitar you were really regretting buying instead of renting. Now that you didn’t have a….teacher, anymore, you were sure it’d just start collecting dust over there in the corner.

“Fuck it,” you mumbled to yourself one day after you’d been staring at the case for far too long, deciding you were going to take it down to the student store and see what they’d offer you for it.

The weather was bitterly cold, but it surprisingly wasn’t raining. You zipped your coat up all the way to your chin, readjusting the guitar strap over your shoulder as you walked across campus to the store. Today was the last day it’d be open before they closed for the holidays, so naturally the store was eerily empty, aside from the two students working behind the counter.

You let your fingers trail across a few cute embroidered journals on your way up to the counter, where a very unenthusiastic student turned to greet you.

“What can I help you with?” They asked flatly, resting their elbows on the wooden counter that separated the two of you.

“Uh, I was hoping to see how much y’all would give me for this guitar,” you explained, hoisting the case up to the counter and unlocking it. Upon flipping the top, the worker gave out a low whistle of appreciation.

“Has it ever even been used? It’s in perfect condition,” they said, grabbing the neck to pull it out and examine it.

“Uh, just a handful of times…I took the class for one semester,” you explained, one hand subconsciously rising to rub the back of your neck sheepishly.

“And you didn’t just rent one?”

Okay, well damn.

“Wasn’t thinking, I guess…” There’s nothing like a stranger confirming what you already knew to make you feel even worse about your initial purchase. They gave you an amused smile before leaning the guitar against the back of the counter.

“Give me a minute to run some numbers,” and luckily, they didn’t mention your stupid purchase again, and retreated to a computer. You leaned over the counter as well, pulling out your phone to mindlessly scroll. The electronic door chime sounded from behind you and the other employee shouted a greeting across the store. You didn’t pay it any attention until you heard a very distinct voice respond.

“Oh my gosh, it is freezing out there!”

Your whole body tensed, your grip on your phone becoming tighter as she started to chatter away—of course her striking presence had the other employee out of their seat, smile plastered across their face as they made their way over to continue chatting with…her.

Of fucking course.

The whole point of coming here was to get this little part of Ellie out of your room—and now, an arguably bigger part of Ellie just came waltzing through the doors. You made it a point to keep looking at your phone, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of your attention. Even though she definitely had it, how could she not? Her voice was sickeningly sweet, even though it somehow made you feel sour, resonating over the quiet music playing in the store.

“Elliott, you are such a riot!” She laughed from behind you. Her vernacular was straight out of a sixties romance movie, and you wondered briefly if that just added to her charm. You’d known girls like her—you know the ones who have to swear up and down that they’re not like other girls, when in reality, they are like clones roaming the earth. They all have the same cadence, the same attitude, the same god complex. Sometimes you wonder what it would be like to be so blissfully ignorant.

“Alright,” the clerk said after another grating minute of you trying to remain undetected. “This is the best I can do for you.” They at least had the decency to look apologetic as they slid you a scribbled note. You blinked down at the number.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you mumbled. The offer was less than half of what you originally paid for it. Not that you were expecting a miracle, but this was a little insulting. “You said it was in perfect condition…”

“I know,” they agreed, putting up their hands defensively. “There’s only so much I can do. I have to go by the school’s policies.”

You frowned at the note for a moment, wishing nothing more than to go back in time and never sign up for that stupid guitar class. Or even if you did, you wished you’d never seen that stupid flier on that stupid tree on this stupid campus—maybe then you wouldn’t be stuck with your heart in your throat, choked up listening to Ellie’s ex-girlfriend slash roommate filling up the room with her stupidly charming personality.

Wait a second, did she leave? Her voice disappeared, and the second clerk was returning back behind the desk. Maybe you should—

“Oh, c’mon,” she was peering over your shoulder in an instant, invading your space and making you flinch. Her floral perfume overwhelmed your nose, her black and silver bracelets tinkling as she examined the note on the counter. “We can do better than that, no?” Her arm was pressing your bicep, she was so close to you, you could hear her breathing and see her perfectly styled hair framing her sharp cheekbones. You were so taken aback by her boldness, by her invasiveness, you found yourself nodding.

She looked over at you, and her teeth were like pearls, shiny and probably not real. You just blinked at her, acutely aware that your expression was most likely not very kind.

“Look, Cat,” the clerk started, and of course they knew her name. “You know I have to follow university protocols for these kinds of things.”

“C’mon, Dakota,” and yeah, of course she knew their name too. “There’s nothing you can do? For old times sake?” She leaned onto her elbows, resting her chin in her hands with a dopey look on her face. Good god, is this a joke? If so, it wasn’t very funny, because Dakota was now suppressing a grin, grabbing the paper off the counter before glancing at you briefly.

“Let me see what I can do,” they smiled, returning to the computer. You wanted to sink into the floor and disappear. Not that it would make much of a difference, anyways. You were pretty much invisible until Cat showed up anyways.

“Well, that’s more like it!” Cat grinned, crossing her arms and leaning a hip against the counter, facing you. “Nice to see you again, by the way.” An afterthought.

You forced a smile back, your deeply embedded people-pleasing outweighing your disdain.

“Cat,” you went straight for the formalities. You wanted to get out of here as quickly as humanly possible. “Likewise.”

“You left so quickly last week I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye!” She exclaimed, reaching out to grab your shoulder. It was like she was from another planet. “Ellie’s been talking about you.” You really hoped her otherworldliness didn’t give her the power of supersonic hearing, because she may have heard your heart fall into your stomach at the mention of Ellie’s name. But perhaps, she still did anyway, because she was cocking her head ever so slightly, crossing her arms over her chest again.

“Oh, yeah I wasn’t…feeling great,” and it wasn’t a complete lie. You’re amazed you didn’t throw up all over the both of them the minute Cat got all handsy with Ellie. Cat still looked at you sideways, like she was waiting for you to respond to her comment about Ellie. No way she was talking about you with Cat. It had to be a ruse. You chewed at your bottom lip nervously, averting your gaze to fidget with your hands rather than be trapped. But she wasn’t giving up.

“Well, she’s been going on and on about how she was so happy she could help you pass your final,” she said, and half of her words were punctuated with a hand gesture. Your heart wa thrumming in your ears. “She said you were a quick learner and so eager to play guitar. I just didn’t take you for a quitter, the way she talks about you!”

Talks. Present tense. Fuck, she was good at this.

“A quitter?”

“Well, you’re pawning off your guitar,” she said matter-of-factly. You furrowed your brow, but quickly let it smooth out.

“I never planned to play guitar long-term. Ellie knew that.” Or at least you thought she did. Cat was making it really fucking hard to tell what was real or not. Her smile faltered for a fraction of a second, before she was standing up straighter and shaking a few jet-black tendrils of hair from her face.

“Well, then,” and she was no longer holding back. Her eyes very blatantly scanned you, up and down before she continued. “Let’s see what we can get you for this guitar then, yeah?”

And as if on cue, Dakota returned to the counter. They walked straight to Cat as if you had never existed in the first place.

“Alright, how’s this?” He slid the note over, and the number was significantly higher. You felt like a second class citizen. You were fuming—not that they would notice as they looked into each other’s eyes like they were Romeo and Juliet or something. How is it that Cat can weasel her way into everything that’s yours?

Hah. As if Ellie was ever yours.

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie x you #ellie tlou #ellie tlou pt 2 #the last of us #the last of us pt 2

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mattalit · 9 months

Text

A Hundred Years’ Wait

Link x m!Reader

CW: angst, death

Link often found himself reminded that, after one hundred years, the world he knew had been drowned in fire—and then reborn again, the same and different together. He was almost thankful for his own forgetfulness and missing memories, but ever since he had awoken, he could almost feel the soft thrum of a deep, stagnant memory… but try as he might—and try he did—he couldn’t remember. But what good was remembering when Hyrule threatened extinction?

Of course, the nagging thrum never truly went away, and in moments alone, he could feel the very edge of his past life in his mind. He would reach for it and grasp helplessly, but it was always out of reach, as tantalizing as the ocean to a man lost at sea, yearning for a sip of water.

It doesn’t matter, he would tell himself. It doesn’t matter. But it did matter, and it plagued his subconscious. At night, in his dreams, he would see that face, but he could never remember in the mornings.

A hero, though, has no time for forcing memories, and his mission had already begun: find Impa.

The ride to Kakariko Village took three days, of which the final day was filled with dark clouds and rain. It was dreary weather and Link would rather be holed up somewhere warm, but when duty calls, he answers. He must find Impa.

He tried not to be intimidated by the looming gates of Kakariko, but it had been so long since he had been here that familiarity seemed harsh, unfamiliar, as though déjà vu met the uncanny. Real, and yet, unreal.

The sad atmosphere of the village didn’t help, either. There were no children running around as he remembered, and the adults he did see were sluggish. There seemed to be both an overcast in the weather and in the minds of the villagers. He felt as though he was infiltrating a great mourning period.

He hesitated within inaction, glancing around the seeable parts of the village. I have no choice, he realized, unless I turn back, but he knew that was not truly an option.

Link slid off of Epona and patted her flank. “Don’t run off, girl,” he said. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Epona nudged his hand as if telling him to hurry up and go, so he turned away and began down the path to the village’s center.

He pushed away his discomfort with the stares he received from the white-haired populace. I am obviously an outsider, he thought, but he didn’t allow the feeling to dissuade him. He forced his shoulders back and continued on his downward path.

Once he had reached the village center, Link’s eyes scanned up a staircase and up the wooden structure. This must be it, he thought.

At the gate, he was stopped by a white-haired man in the garb of the Sheikah.

“Sir, you cannot pass…” The man paused, looking down at Link. His tone turned from hardened to confused. “Is that… is that a Sheikah slate?”

Link pulled out the Sheikah slate.

“It is! I’m so sorry, you must hurry up to Impa.” The man stepped to the side. As Link took the first step, he was stopped again. “Oh, and please be respectful. A beloved elder is at his end of days. Impa is with him now. You will find her in the main room.”

Ah, Link thought, that explains this place’s looming sadness.

At the top of the stairs, he paused at the doors. He could feel that nagging thrum of remembrance return, but he had made it too far to stop in an attempt to think.

Link pushed open the double doors, revealing moderate-sized room. He scanned the walls, taking in scrolls and pictures on the left and right before settling his sight in the center. There stood a short older woman with a large hat next to an older gentleman in a chair. He has seen better days, Link thought.

“My life is fading, Lady Impa,” the man said sadly.

Link froze. We know that voice, the nagging thrum said, and it was right. He did know that voice—from one hundred years ago. But from what?

Impa looked to the doors and recognition passed through her face. “Link?” she asked. She did not move from her spot next to the man, whose face remained unchanged.

That face… he remembered that face.

Link took a step forward.

It had seen the years in a way Link’s own had not, but he was still recognizable under the wrinkles and sun spots and the wispy, white beard.

Link took another step forward.

He remembered that face younger and in battle, holding determination and his sword as though they were a light weight.

“It has been a long time,” the old man said, “since I have last seen you, swordsman.”

Link remembered that voice when it was still hindered with the naiveté and ego of youth, but now the scars of wisdom and diplomacy could be heard and felt.

“(M/N),” Link greeted. “It has been far too long.”

And Link could feel the full weight of time come crashing down, and he could feel the soft thrum of remembrance grow and grow as finally, finally, he remembered.

(M/N), a Knight of Hyrule, a protector of the royal family, and an adventurer. (M/N), his sparring partner, his friend, and—dare he say it?—his lover.

Like a symphony, he could remember all the hours spent training, the days spent adventuring in the wilderness, the late nights and early mornings, all spent together, and in anguish and in fear, he stared upon that wrinkled face, and the wispy white hair so different from its younger (H/C), and the fragile body, and Link finally realized how long he had been gone, how much he had missed, and how much he could never, ever get back.

Link kneeled in front of (M/N); he hardly noticed Impa back away.

For a moment, (M/N) just stared. “I am dying, Link,” he said. “But I have held on for you. I always knew you would be back.”

Link did not respond, but he could feel a tear slip down his cheek. He had lost so much time, and there was nothing he could do. He had never felt so helpless.

“The sands of time are cruelest to heroes,” (M/N) mumbled. He placed his hand softly on Link’s face, his thumb tracing his cheekbone, wiping away his tear. “But you are as beautiful as the day I lost you.”

Link placed his own hand over (M/N)’s. He could feel that familiar thrum, and he begged himself to remember more—and he did. He remembered the night a week before his fall, the last time he had seen (M/N), where he had held (M/N)’s hand in the same way.

I will be gone when you wake up, he had whispered.

Must you leave so late? he had been asked.

I have a duty to the Princess.

I suppose I cannot keep you. I will see you when you get back.

(M/N)’s hand was weaker and more weathered than when he had left him, but a hundred years had passed, and nothing these days was as he remembered.

I have been gone for so long, he thought, and he couldn’t fight down his own distress and anger and helplessness as he realized, all against my will.

“I am glad you have come, Link,” (M/N) said, “but our time together now ends.”

“Wait,” Link pleaded.

“I have held on as long as I can.” (M/N) took a shambling breath. “But time has been cruel to us.”

(M/N)’s hand dropped from Link’s face, but Link caught it and laid it across the old man’s lap. He could feel his own sweltering tears pool together.

He felt Impa’s small hand be placed on his shoulder, and he half-registered her voice telling him, “He will not wake up again.”

#x male reader #angst #legend of zelda #link x male reader #xmreader #xm!reader #link x m!reader #botw #breath of the wild

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inuhiime · 1 year

Text

:: 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 ! ──── ⪩⪨ 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒

‘ you have turned down god’s will, refused your own story. what will you make of this? ’

‘ you’ll still suffer in the end, and you’ll still be some kind of dead, anyway ’

‘ you say that fate is what intertwines us, but aren’t you the one who always comes back to me? ’

‘ we are not made for sacrifice. who said you are meant to carry this weight alone? ’

‘ can you carry these burdens until the end of time? ’

‘ who has done this to you, love? who has made you into a being of ruin and pushed you into the abyss even further? ’

‘ you are no greater than humanity ; your origins will be your downfall ’

‘ did you think we could both survive this? ’

‘ where does it go : the love that survives in you? ’

‘ yes, it is lonely, this place of brutality ’

‘ where did it go, your heart? ’

‘ i already know you for who you are, not who you choose to act as ’

‘ there’s always tomorrow, dearest. we can try again tomorrow ’

‘ when will you learn that you, in the end, are human? ’

‘ you have chosen the worst ending for yourself, haven’t you? ’

‘ i can’t promise nothing bad will happen, but i can promise that we’ll make it out of here ’

‘ it can’t happen again. not this time ’

‘ if numbness is a cruelty, then what must the gods call this? ’

‘ yes, this is all we’ll ever know ’

‘ if you shatter, you will die. you will be forgotten and everything you have fought for will die, too ’

‘ when is it that you can shatter under the weight of the world? ’

‘ there are other ways to break my heart, you know ’

‘ it is so terribly hard to be human ’

‘ this world is meant for ruin, and only one of us is meant to survive it ’

‘ there is no forgiveness in sight, so the suffering will always be felt, and maybe it is supposed to be that way ’

‘ you have always managed to put my heart at ease ’

‘ this life is very much a cruel and painful one, isn’t it? ’

‘ no, nothing good will come of this ’

‘ you are at war with yourself ’

‘ you are not as frightening as you let on ’

‘ you were born from everything that burdens my heart. do you think i would yearn for more? ’

‘ don’t you want to play the innocent part here? ’

‘ do you ever wonder if this is our second chance? ’

‘ you are helpless and weak and you cannot even save the person you love ’

‘ time is nearing. i hope you’re ready ’

‘ fate knows best of all ’

‘ have i at all made a difference in your existence? ’

‘ we have met before. who were you to me? ’

‘ no one is meant to know the severity of such loss ’

‘ i won’t leave you. you have me until the end ’

‘ it’s safer to cut your losses, better to cut out what causes the pain before it hurts you ’

‘ this is not a betrayal, because betrayals are meant to hurt ’

‘ what a very selfish thought to have ’

‘ you will survive this. you have to ’

‘ what happens when there is nothing left?’

‘ you are lying to me. i know this ’

‘ now now, i thought you would enjoy this more ’

‘ there are things worse than death ’

‘ you force my hand when you know all along that we are not meant to be enemies ’

‘ there is always love in what could be lost ’

‘ you surround yourself with the dead because that’s all you know ’

‘ you keep getting blood on your hands ’

‘ i don’t regret joining your side, not one bit, so don’t start thinking otherwise ’

‘ yes, i am aware that you are in love with me ’

‘ so what is it that makes you different? ’

‘ did you love, just as i have? did you regret it? ’

‘ you’ll get the life you deserve. i promise ’

‘ i’ll grant you the kindest ending, erase you from an existence you never deserved ’

‘ you’ll worry your pretty little head off, sparrow ’

‘ i never gave you my word ’

‘ am i losing myself? should i run? ’

‘ i don’t think any of us are innocent here ’

‘ i almost ended the world once ’

‘ not even that will you save from being torn apart by me ’

‘ no matter this life or the next, even the past, i am grateful to spend it with you ’

‘ we can work together, find some way in ’

‘ what judgment will you pass upon me? ’

‘ grief is a very hard thing to swallow, isn’t it? ’

‘ you have always done enough ’

‘ the pain will be worth it. it always is ’

‘ it’s better to hope that you can live, not survive ’

‘ isn’t that what you want? for me to fall? ’

‘ it’ll be fine. no one can hurt me ’

‘ what will you do? pick off my limbs, one by one, and decide whether you love me or not? ’

‘ you are both monster and human alike ’

‘ how do you bring an end to a relentless suffering that follows you throughout the lifetimes? ’

‘ even then, you’re just human in the end ’

‘ in all your years of existence, do you ache? have you ever been happy? ’

‘ tell me what name you have chosen for me in this life ’

‘ i should always be sad. you’re much nicer this way ’

‘ you may be the one who is doing the saving, after all ’

‘ how can you love someone you have known for so little of your life? ’

‘ we have known each other before this, haven’t we? ’

‘ you are only human, and what is humanity if not for the longing of it all? ’

‘ not a pleasant welcome home gift, is it? ’

‘ there is nothing here for you. you should go home now ’

‘ as long as you come home to me, that’s all i need ’

‘ lonely? i have you, don’t i? ’

‘ you are more than your darkness ’

‘ it would be good to consider your advice and use it for yourself ’

‘ so you tend to me, not out of love, but out of convenience? ’

‘ better to keep to yourself and do what needs to be done ’

‘ if you have another nightmare, i’ll be here when you wake ’

‘ what is there to be said? ’

‘ i didn’t like you when we first met ’

‘ you are not who you were before ’

‘ there will always be a good ending with you ’

‘ you’ve caused more trouble than you’re worth. what did you expect would happen? ’

‘ it is corruption that triumphs over love ’

‘ what does one do with regret and failure? ’

#sentence starters #sentence prompts #sentence starter meme #rp starter #rp meme #all of these are original lines pulled from my fics :^))#⪩⪨ ･･･ lit #⪩⪨ ･･･ original

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kazuwhora · 2 years

Text

— SCAR TISSUE

⨳ WARNINGS. gn!reader, small levels of angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of suicide and mental health struggles (kazutora)

⨳ WORD COUNT. 2.1k

⨳ NOTE. commission for the lovely @lesbiansportsanime and also a little something in honour of kazutora’s upcoming birthday <3 I may have shed a tear writing this

KAZUTORA has always been left in his thoughts— always left behind, always alone, and this time was no different. this time, he had taken away everyone he held close to his heart, and pushed away any chance of ever being loved by those around him ever again. he had given in to the sickness of his mind, and lost control— again. but this time, there was no one to save him. except you.

you had watched kazutora from the sidelines of fights. you watched him hurt those around him, and bring them down with him. you watched him spiral into the reality of his own delusions, and you watched as the people around him took advantage of his weakness, and manipulate him deeper into the toxicity of his mind.

part of you had always felt responsible for the events that led up to his imprisonment, after all you had observed it happening— all sides— and you let it happen. you didn’t know him, but you felt like you did, and the guilt weighed heavy on your shoulders when you watched from the sidelines as his eyes welled with tears you had never seen as he knelt beside the body of his best friend.

kazutora had already accepted his fate when he watched the life drain from baji’s eyes. the only person left who cared about him, gone in an instant and it was his fault. every second from the moment he was taken away by the police was spent shelving the blame for everything he had done, to the point where his mind was more broken and damaged than it had ever been before.

the request came as a surprise— draken had dropped by your house one afternoon, respectful as always as he asked to speak with you outside. draken had never been all that close to you before, knowing you only from your friendship with emma and not much more than that. but something about the concern that dwelled behind his eyes as he closed the door behind you made your nerves teeter on the edge.

“I need you to do me a favour” he had asked, looking past you into the distance as the sun set on the horizon. “we need you to do us a favour”

draken spoke as if his voice encompassed the gang as a whole, and he cleared his throat with an uncomfortable shift of his posture.

“kazutora” he hummed, crossing his arms in front of him as your brows knit in a confused frown. “he needs somebody, and I don’t think he can handle it being any of us”

“what—” you started, but draken cut you off before you could finish.

“he can sense it— the resentment” he muttered. draken was never proud of his negative emotions, nor was he ever one to express much in the first place. “takemitchi and I visited him today, and mikey was right. if he’s stuck in there with nobody to help him on the outside, he’s not going to make it much longer”

a knot formed in your throat as you caught drift of what draken was aiming at. suddenly all the guilt you had shrugged away watching kazutora’s downfall crashed against your body like a wave against sharp rocks, and your chest ached with an emotion you couldn’t quite understand. you had never even met kazutora, and yet the responsibility you felt— the yearning to help him nearly made your eyes prick with tears as you imagined him withering away all alone in a cell until he could no longer take the guilt of what he had done.

“but—” you started again, knowing draken was going to cut you off regardless.

“I know it’s weird, but takemitchi and I figured out a plan, if you’re okay with it of course”

you nodded for him to go on, finally giving up trying to get a word in edgewise.

“takemitchi and I— we’re going to write to him, once a month probably. I’ll give the letters to you to bring to him in person, you can tell him we couldn’t afford the postage or something. he probably wont think twice about it”

“but why m—”

“you’re the only person who doesn’t have a direct connection to what happened. you’re emma’s friend, so he’ll just connect the dots between us that way.”

the more you listened to draken’s explanation, the more you felt the waves of anxiety ebb and flow in your mind. you thought about the anguish that kazutora was dealing with— ten years behind bars would never undo what he did, and would never bring back the only person who really cared about him. you thought more and more about the tears that dripped from his eyes, and being all alone in a prison for ten years with nobody left to care would only push him right back to where he was before, and the responsibility weighed heavy on your shoulders once more.

watching from the sidelines and he withered away wasn’t an option this time. you wouldn’t allow yourself to feel that kind of guilt again, and besides, kazutora had always piqued your interest anyways.

and from that day on, you were enlisted as the official mail delivery service for kazutora hanemiya.

your first encounters were awkward. he was closed off, and emotionless— like an empty shell of a person. but somewhere behind his dull eyes, was a tiny twinkle that lit up more and more with every visit.

it started off just with the letters. you would schedule a visit, sit down, hand him the letters, and buy him a drink and something to eat. he was always thankful for your presence, bowing nearly to the ground each time you got up to leave. and slowly, over time, his walls came down and his smile returned.

you became a familiar face quite fast, and though your purpose was born from obligation, you quickly found yourself missing him between the letters.

monthly visits turned more frequent, though the letters stayed the same. you always had a new excuse to see him— sometimes to show off the new shoes you had bought, or your new haircut, or sometimes just to catch up on the only show that ever aired besides the news in prison.

kazutora was no longer the boy he was when he was free, but he was never truly free back then. though confined in walls with tight schedules and rules, kazutora was more free now, than he ever was before— and it was all thanks to your friendship that had blossomed over the years.

your visits had grown so predictable, and so frequent that the staff at the prison barely bothered to check you before entering. you were known on a first name basis by all the staff, all the guards, and all the other inmates that kazutora had allowed himself to befriend thanks to your encouragement and support.

it was his therapist that had been the one that was always on your side. he had rooted for your friendship, and thanked you for allowing kazutora into your heart, and your life all the same. so when your email came asking for his help to organize a visit on kazutora’s birthday, you barely even needed to ask.

in the years before, you had never even considered asking about visitation rights and facilities. you had spent many of kazutora’s birthdays celebrating with an unlit candle shoved into a pile of chips in an open bag, pretending to blow out a flame that wasn’t allowed. kazutora never minded— he thought it was funny and it never failed to bring a smile to his face, or a special warmth to your hugs. but this year was different. this year was his fifth birthday spent in prison— his halfway mark, and you wanted to make it special.

with a table full of groceries and ingredients supplied by both the prison staff and his therapist, you lean your hips against the counter as you sort through the items and get to work preparing. the staff had given you special permission to use the family visitation room, equipped with a half kitchen, a sofa with a tv, and a small table in the center of the room. excitement bubbles in your chest as you slice onions into tiny circles and prepare the only dish kazutora had ever expressed his desire to try: okonomiyaki.

you had never made these types of pancakes before, but days before his birthday you had spent hours watching videos and tutorials to find the best recipe you could think of with all his favourite ingredients. and surely, it would be better than the microwaved ramen he always considered a treat.

time ticks on the clock as you anxiously watch the pancake sizzle on the pan. now, your desire to make everything perfect weighs on your conscience as you scramble to clean up the mess you had made over the last two hours until the sound of footsteps in the hallway and the jingle of the guards keys signals your reminder to turn off the stove and put the food on the plates. just as you finish placing everything down on the stable and straightening the utensils just right, kazutora’s head peeks through the door with a face draped with confusion.

“i-is this—” he stutters, hesitating to enter the room until the guard nudges him past the door and closes it behind him. “for me?”

a warm smile settles on your lips as you watch him look around the room in awe. his eyes are already glossy as he takes in his surroundings, and you can’t help but pull him into a hug you’ve been craving since the last time you saw him.

“all for you” you speak through your smile as he eases himself into the hug, still distracted by everything you’ve done around him. “but also I made you okonomiyaki and we should probably try it before it gets too cold to be good”

“okonomiyaki?!” he gasps, pushing you away from the hug as he stares at you with complete seriousness behind his eyes. “you made… okonomiyaki?! for real?”

you can’t help but giggle watching his eyes light up like a kid when he sees the steaming food on the plate beside him. he can barely contain his excitement as he sits down, legs bouncing up and down while he waits for you to sit. there’s a sense of satisfaction that washes over you as you watch him tear apart the food you so carefully prepared like an animal. it’s times like these that he lives up to his name, but even still you giggle and reach across the table to fix his sleeves that keep rolling down into the food.

“good?” you ask, wishing you had made more at the sight of how fast he devoured the plate.

kazutora only nodded with a thumbs up as he picked every last piece and dusted his hands off with a sense of accomplishment. but words couldn’t encompass how grateful he was for you, and he could only express his feelings through his excitement that spilled over to you with infectious laughter.

“don’t worry about the dishes” you hum, shooing him away from counter and pointing to the sofa across from the tv. “I managed to get them to record the episodes you missed last month so we can catch up together”

just when you thought kazutora’s eyes couldn’t go any wider, his face lights up with shock as he nearly jumps in place and pulls you to the sofa. his fingers move at lightning speed with the remote as he skips through the mindless recordings of baseball games the staff kept for themselves until he finds the first of the missed episodes of your shared tv show.

“seriously though” he pauses, turning to face you as you tuck stray pieces of his hair behind his ear. “why’re you doing all this?”

you smile, letting your hand rest on top of his as you let out a small sigh. “what, you don’t like it?” you tease, and kazutora nearly panics.

“no! no its not that! this has been the best day of—”

you cut him off before he can say another word that might pull at your heartstrings a little too much. “because its your fifth birthday tora, and I wanted to show you how much I care about you”

kazutora cocks his head like a dog. “.. fifth? but.. I’m—”

“you’re not the same person you were when you got here five years ago— you restarted everything— you’ve changed now”

a shaky breath sits in your chest as you watch his eyes fall to your hand covering his.

“you’re right” he mutters, though his face reflects the contentment and comfort of his soul. “thank you— for everything…”

“of course— I want to make your birthday spe—”

this time kazutora is the one to cut you off, and his fingers intertwine themselves with yours.

“I mean for everything— all these years, everything you’ve done for me— thank you”

you look up at him, his glossy eyes reflecting the tears that glimmer in yours. you had spent nearly your whole life searching for something to make you feel whole, and now you’ve realized you’ve had it right beside you all along for the last five years. the missing piece of his puzzle is the extra piece of yours, and there’s nothing more fulfilling than looking down at the finished piece of artwork before you.

“thank you” you hum, looking away as you try your best to withhold the tears that kazutora lets flow so freely. “you’re everything to me, kazutora, so happy birthday”

your lip quivers with a tearful smile as kazutora pulls you just close enough to rest his chin on your head.

and for once in your life, you feel whole.

#kazutora x reader #kazutora angst #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers angst #kazutora #hanemiya kazutora x you #kazutora x reader angst #tokyo revengers #tokyorev x reader #kazutora x you

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naturesapphic · 3 months

Text

Knight in shining armor part 3

Warnings: angst, fluff

You head to your room and starts sobbing that lasted for what seems like hours. Natasha feels a deep sadness and empathy in her heart as she imagines the princess's pain. "She must be feeling so alone right now," she thinks to herself. "I must do everything in my power to ensure her safety and happiness, even if it means sacrificing my own desires." She continues to patrol the castle grounds, her senses alert and her focus sharp. She knows that danger could come from any direction at any moment, and she cannot afford to let her guard down.

It was the next morning and you are sitting on the window sill and you look out the window, yearning for your knight but realizing that y’all can’t be together and your heart aches at the thought. Natasha continues her watchful patrol of the grounds, moving from one area to another with grace and precision. As she passes by the princess's window, she notes the young woman sitting on the windowsill staring off into the distance. She pauses for a moment, a sense of sadness washing over her. She knows that the princess is in pain and she wishes there was something she could do to ease her burden.

Finally, she decides to approach the window, her footsteps silent as she reaches the Princess's side. She looks out the window, saying softly. "It's a beautiful evening, isn't it?" Natasha rasped out and you looked up at her in surprise and you tense up a little but relaxes as I look up at you. “not as beautiful as you knight…” I slightly tease you with a playfully grin “but yes it is a beautiful evening, I love watching the sunset…” you confessed. Natasha looks at the Princess, her cheeks flushing a bit at the compliment but she quickly composes herself. "I'm glad you find the evening beautiful, your highness," she says with a faint smile. "It has always been one of my favorite times of day as well." She peers out the window, taking in the vibrant hues of the sunset before glancing back at the Princess.

"Is there anything I can do to help you feel more at ease?" Natasha asks gently, sensing the weight of the girl's sadness. "I know being a princess comes with many responsibilities, but please know that you are not alone." She gives you a gentle smile. “we should watch it together more sometime…” she says softly. You sigh sadly “no you cannot Natasha…I can’t kiss you, or hug you, or call you mine…so no there’s nothing you can do to ease this heart break I feel.”you look out the window again as a single tear falls down your cheek. Natasha’s heart aches at the sight of the Princess's tears, and she feels a deep sorrow in her own heart at the thought of not being able to be closer to her. "I understand, your highness," she says softly. "I wish there was something I could do to ease your pain, but please know that my loyalty and devotion to you will never falter. Whether as a friend or a guardian, I will always be here for you."

She stands quietly beside the princess, watching as another tear falls down her cheek. She wishes more than anything that she could wipe it away or hold her close, but she knows that is not her place. Her duty is to protect and serve, even if it means sacrificing her own desires. Finally, she speaks again, her voice gentle and kind. "Is there anything else I can do for you your highness?” She asked. You nod and stand up and walks over to you. “just know Natasha Romanoff that I am in love with you. more than anything and more than anyone. I would sacrifice any and everything to be with you but I see that your job is more important and I can understand that, you work hard and I appreciate that but just know I’ll never stop loving you my beautiful knight..” you say softly as your voice cracks and you lean up to give her a gentle kiss on your lips and walks back to my room, trying not to have a breakdown in front of you.

Natasha’s heart races at the Princess's confession, and she feels a mixture of emotions shock, confusion, longing, and heartache all mixed together. As the Princess kisses her, she feels a rush of desire surge through her, wanting to hold her close and never let go. But she knows that it is not her place, that as a knight and guardian of the Princess, her duty is to put the realm's needs above her own desires. Finally, she watches silently as the young woman walks away, feeling a deep sense of sadness and regret. She knows that she cannot change who she is, nor can she abandon the oath she has taken to protect the monarchy. “I will always be here for you, your highness, no matter what," she whispers softly to herself as she resumes her patrol, her heart heavy. After a while of patrolling she switched with one of the other guards and headed back to her room and falls into a sleep with her mind on you.

It was in the middle of the night and you scream loudly from my bedroom. waking up from a dreadful nightmare. Natasha wakes up from hearing the Princess's scream, quickly getting out of bed and grabbing her sword as she rushes over to the young woman's bedroom. She kicks open the door and finds the Princess laying in bed, looking distraught and terrified from the nightmare. "Your highness," she says gently, approaching the bed with her sword still at the ready just in case there's any danger. "It's alright, I'm here. You're safe." She places a hand on the girl's shoulder, feeling her tense up from the touch. "Do you want to talk about what happened?" Natasha asks softly, trying to calm the Princess down. Natasha's face hardens as she listens to the Princess speak of the nightmare.

You try to calm down to speak “n-nightmare a-about the g-guards who a-attacked me…” you stuttered out. "I'm sorry that you had to experience such a terrible dream, your highness," she says softly, her voice soothing in an attempt to ease the girl's fears. "But please know that I will do everything in my power to ensure that nothing like that ever happens to you again. You are under my protection, and I will not let anyone harm you." She pauses for a moment, thinking of what else she can say to calm the Princess's nerves. "Would you like me to stay here with you until you fall asleep again?" she offers, hoping to provide some comfort to the girl. "I promise I won't leave your side,” she said softly. “yes please…don’t leave me Natasha…” you say as another set of fresh tears fill your eyes and you grab onto Natasha’s strong arm gently. Natasha feels a pang of empathy for the Princess and nods gently. She slowly sits beside her and places her sword aside. Natasha grabs a hold of the young woman's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I won't leave you, your highness," she says softly, her tone gentle as she looks over to the Princess and gives her a reassuring smile. "I'll stay here until you fall asleep again. You're safe with me." As the princess falls asleep, Natasha stays by her side, feeling a sense of protectiveness surge in her chest. She keeps a watchful eye on the room and listens intently for any sounds that might threaten the Princess's safety. In that moment, natasha feels a deep sense of contentment and purpose, knowing that she is fulfilling her duty to the best of her abilities, and keeping you safe. You roll over onto her and wraps your body around natasha your sleep and a small smile appears on your lips. Natasha, startled at first by the Princess's sudden embrace, lets out a soft gasp but then realizes that the young woman is still asleep. She relaxes a bit and feels a sense of warmth from the Princess's body pressed up against hers.

For a moment, Natasha allows herself to relax, feeling the gentle rise and fall of the Princess's breathing as she sleeps. She strokes the girl's hair gently, running her fingers through the soft strands and feeling a sense of tenderness towards her. As she looks down at the sleeping form of the Princess, Natasha knows that she will do everything she can to protect and care for her, even if it means sacrificing her own happiness in the process. Because to Natasha, there is no greater honor than serving her king, her realm, and her Princess.

It was morning and you found yourself in your knights arms. a surge of happiness went through you and you looked up at you with a tired smile “thank you for keeping me safe last night…I didn’t have anymore bad dreams…” you say softly and gets an idea. “you know…if you were mine…you would have to be with me 24/7…you can keep protecting me Natasha. it doesn’t have to stop if you are mine and I am yours. that just means you can keep a better eye on me…” you said smirking at her. Natasha feels a sense of joy wash over her at the Princess's words, but also feels a sense of conflict about what the Princess is implying. "Your highness, I appreciate your trust and your kind words," she says softly but firmly, pulling away slightly but still holding on to the girl's hand. "But it's important that you understand that my duty to you and your father is not contingent on any personal relationship between us. My loyalty lies with the kingdom and its safety, and I will do whatever it takes to protect you and uphold my oath as a knight. You deserve the best protection, and I will always put the kingdom and your safety first."

Natasha gives the young woman's hand a gentle squeeze to reassure her. "That being said, I will always be here for you as your loyal knight and protector.” She promises. “Natasha! I told you many times my father is okay with us being together! he blessed us and said that you could marry me in the future! he wants me to be happy and he realizes that it’s with you…he trusts you…he said that if it could be anyone who he’d want me to marry that it would be you Natasha…” you explained to her. Natasha feels a sense of shock at the revelation and a myriad of emotions flood her. Her eyes widen in surprise, but she quickly regains composure. She looks down at the Princess with a mixture of confusion and disbelief. "Your highness, I...I am not sure what to say," She lets out slowly. "Are you certain that your father gave his permission for us to be together? As your loyal knight and protector, I cannot act upon any relationship with you without the king's explicit consent. It is important that we are both in line with the regulations of the kingdom, and I must respect the law and its customs." She takes a deep breath, still holding on to the young woman's hand tightly. "However, I have always been here to protect and serve you, and I will continue to do so, no matter what.” She stated.

“I promise it’s true my love…we can go to him now and he will tell us the exact same thing he told me….we can be together my love…my father approves.” You explained as you pleaded with her to finally understand what you’ve been trying to say for the past few days. Natasha looks at the Princess with a mixture of awe and disbelief. She is uncertain about this unprecedented development, but the thought of being with the Princess makes her heart flutter with excitement and expectation. "If what you say is true, then I feel humbled and grateful. The possibility of being with you fills me with hope and joy. But it is important that we do not rush into anything without careful consideration. We must think about the consequences and whether our actions will benefit the kingdom and its people." She takes a deep breath and looks deeply into the Princess's eyes, feeling a sense of warmth and tenderness towards the girl. "But I am willing to risk anything for you, my love but your father has to approve of it.” She demanded softly and you nodded in understanding. “it is true…my father even said that he will approve of us sharing a room and a bed if we wish…i understand we can’t rush but oh I’m so happy my love I promise this will work out between us…” you confessed to her.

Natasha feels a mix of conflicting emotions, as the Princess's words fill her with warmth and affection, but she also feels a sense of apprehension and concern about the impact this newfound relationship will have on the kingdom. "Your highness, I am grateful for your love and trust, and I feel a deep connection to you," Natasha says softly, gently touching the Princess' hand. "But we must be mindful of our actions and the potential consequences they could have on the kingdom. We cannot act impulsively and without considering the implications of our decisions. If we are to start a relationship, it must be done carefully and discreetly, with the utmost respect for the laws of the kingdom.”She looks at the Princess with a mixture of warmth and tenderness, realizing that her feelings for this young woman run deeper than she had ever thought possible. You nod in understanding at her words. “I mean…I will be future queen and I will need a ruler beside me so it will affect the kingdom but In a good way.” You said while smirking as you start to caress her cheeks with your warm hand. Natasha feels a shiver run down her spine as the Princess caresses her cheek, her eyes closing briefly at the feeling of your warm hand.

"I understand your highness, and I will be honored to serve you in any way that I can," Natasha says softly, looking intensely into the young woman's eyes. She pauses for a moment, then takes the Princess's hand in hers, holding it tightly. "Know that I love you, your highness, and that I will always be there to protect and support you, no matter what happens." You sigh and nods. “so you do want to be with me and for this to work…right?” You say hopefully. “we can go as slow as you want but I want to hear you say that you want to be with me.” You said as you look deep into her green eyes. Natasha looks into the Princess's eyes, feeling a sense of vulnerability and openness. She takes a deep breath, steeling herself for what she is about to say, then speaks softly and honestly. "Yes, your highness, I do want to be with you. I have never felt a connection with anyone like I do with you, and I am willing to take the risk for us to be together. But we must be careful, and ensure that our relationship does not cause strife or upset the order of the kingdom. We can go as slowly as you'd like, but know that my feelings for you are honest and true." Saying this, Natasha feels a sense of tension in her chest, unsure of where this newfound connection will lead, but resolved to do whatever it takes to make this work.

A/n: part three done! Part four will be posted soon and smut will be included ;) my Rhea ripley book is open for any requests and stuff and go check out the first imagine I posted! I have my own buy me a coffee page! You can give me a dollar and it will help. I also have some different commission types I will do so here's my page to look into it :) https://www.buymeacoffee.com/naturesapphic Requests are open for yeehaw!wanda, country!wanda, and any other southern variants of Wanda or Natasha! Remember to stay hydrated and to rest! I love y'all!

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