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joeloverture · 4 months

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hook 'em horny | j.m. x f!reader

masterlist : coach!joel masterlist pairing: college football coach!joel miller x reader summary: [no outbreak] seeking petty revenge on your cheating quarterback ex-boyfriend leads you somewhere you shouldn't be — and then it lands you over the knee of his coach. warnings: (18+ mdni, don't make me say it again.) cheating done by a referenced oc, briefest mention of drugs, porn barely garnished with plot, age gap (22/52), smut, unprotected piv sex, creampie, vaginal fingering, potentially dubcon by way of power imbalance but consent is enthusiastic, daddy kink, sir kink, 'punishment' spanking, degradation, praise, brat tamer!joel, dom!joel, joel spits on her ass but otherwise no butt stuff, mild choking, body writing, so many pet names of so many varieties, aftercare, surprisingly fluffy [no use of y/n] word count: 6.4k a/n: this is a crazy idea to have considering joel can hardly handle ellie. i don't think he'd be able to handle ~118 college-aged boys. however, the idea of football coach! joel is hot to me (i mean, seriously, look at those sluts on the sidelines) so i made it happen. on a serious note, i am so sorry to the unnamed university this is based on. i toured you. i'm legacy. but... joel miller. let's make it clear this is for entertainment purposes only. this is a fictional work about fictional people that does not reflect the school itself, which is a fine institution whose head coaches historically do not fuck students in the locker rooms. shoutout to my dad who, unknowing what this information would be used for, explained to me how he snuck into this stadium 3x. don't do that, either.

You can’t even remember the last time you made a good decision.

Your track record definitely isn’t the cleanest: you chose to go to school in Texas, and then chose to stay there for four years. Choosing to go to that frat party in late junior year wasn’t your brightest moment, either, evidenced by the resulting hangover from hell and, predictably, frat flu. All things considered, those choices pale in comparison to hooking up with their all-star quarterback, Lucas Scott.

Dirty-blonde, blue-eyed, muscled Lucas Scott. He’s the sort of guy who looks like an eight when you’re looking at him after a few shots of tequila and a four when you’re sober. The sort of guy who, after over a year of dating, makes you split the bill halfway after ordering the more expensive entree. Crowned as the most efficient, precise, and instinctive quarterback the Longhorns have ever had. Apparently that instinct hadn’t been enough to drive him away from dipping his wick in every sorority girl’s candle wax.

No matter how much post-orgasm Lucas panted into his ear that he loved you, you weren’t stupid enough to trick yourself into believing it. Staying with him was the easier choice, not yet wanting to reduce yourself to locker room talk. Walking in on him sloppily fucking some redhead nursing major was the breaking point. When it became less about you and more about your dignity.

So, yeah, you’ve never been one for making good decisions, and you certainly aren’t about to start now.

You thought breaking into the stadium would be some sort of monumental task. Trespassing here was normally reserved for campus rooftops and after-hours exploration, but once you’d gotten this batshit crazy idea in your head, you knew it wasn’t going to shake until you at least proved it couldn’t be done.

The open garage at the back of the building doesn’t help to deter you. It’s like there’s a welcome-mat outside saying, ‘Come on in and get what you deserve!’.

Who would you be to decline such a sincere invitation?

The garage is empty apart from some cushy golf carts, and the steel door behind them couldn’t be more tempting. If it’s locked, you tell yourself, you’ll go back to the dorm and forget about your incident of near-trespassing.

You take small steps to the door, testing the handle. It springs right open, and all thoughts of leaving dissipate from your mind.

Who leaves the garage open and forgets to lock the door? Probably people with just as little between their ears (and legs) as Lucas. You scoff in half-disbelief, half-luck as you close the door behind you.

The energy feels stagnant this late at night, no announcer on the loudspeaker or swarms of burnt orange hats and T-shirts standing shoulder-to-shoulder. Industrial lights flicker above, their hums loud enough to make you wonder if you have tinnitus. Concrete lines the hallways, interrupted by a few silver-painted pipes arranged in a labyrinth up against the walls. A few security cameras are pointed at you. Before going any further, you pause to raise the hood of your Longhorns sweatshirt.

Even if you should be, you aren’t in much of a rush; you amble about, really taking in the sterile ambiance of the empty stadium. You turn a few corners, going in what feels like the right direction. You figure you’re getting closer when you spot what looks like it could be a security tower. Crouching behind a trash can, you wait it out, trying to peer through the untinted windows to figure out if there’s anyone in there at all. When you’ve determined it’s unmanned and let out a shallow exhale, you go back up to full posture and keep wandering around unsupervised.

You know you’re in the right place when you find your toes hovering over a red line painted on the oil-stained concrete: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT.

Bingo.

Crossing that line without really thinking about it, you stick to your (so far) tried and true method of going wherever feels the most promising until you’re standing in front of the two black doors you were looking for. The door’s handle is an obnoxiously large longhorn, and you quite literally have to hook ‘em to get inside.

You’re starting to understand where the rest of the university’s funding is going when you walk into the locker room. After dating Lucas for a year, you know the football team is full of itself, but the Longhorniness of it all is… excessive. There’s the silhouette of the logo glowing on the goddamn ceiling, and if the jerseys the players are wearing on their digital nameplates isn’t enough of an indicator of who they play for, every backlit locker has a drawer with, you guessed it: a longhorn painted at the center. A brown vinyl couch wraps around the front of the room in direct view of a powered down videoboard that you can only assume replays highlight reels.

You roll your eyes. Again, your track record with decision-making isn’t the best, because you chose a school who puts every penny towards sweaty frat boys with brain damage from the amount of concussions they get.

And then you see it: a sign tacked onto the middle aisle of lockers that reads CORE VALUES. From top to bottom, HONESTY, TREAT WOMEN WITH RESPECT, NO DRUGS, NO STEALING, and NO WEAPONS. You have to physically clamp your jaw shut to restrict your laughter at the second one.

It doesn’t take you long to find what you’re looking for. Lucas Scott, #10.

His sweat-stained jersey hangs limply from the rack, and you eagerly tear it off, tossing it down onto the floor. Eager like a child ready to color outside the lines of a coloring book, you kneel down in front of it, pulling out the one thing you had prepared for tonight. A bold black Sharpie.

You pop the cap with your teeth, spitting it out somewhere on the floor as you start scribbling. Disguising your handwriting isn’t intentional, but you’re writing so carelessly and on such a foreign material that it comes naturally. Your tongue sticks out of the corner of your mouth as you work. In a year and a half, you’d never felt such satisfaction about — and certainly not from — Lucas.

TWO PUMP CHUMP along the side. FIVE INCHES FULL MAST on the other. CHEATER at the bottom. WHORE across the front.

A throat clears behind you. You drop the Sharpie, a blot of ink forming on the mesh. You startle backwards, scooting until your back hits that stupid longhorn drawer. You’re expecting a janitor, maybe a security guard if you’re extra unlucky.

That isn’t the worst of your options, apparently, because when you look up, it’s at Joel fucking Miller, head coach of the longhorn’s football team.

Your lower lip starts trembling, and that moment is when you decide maybe you need to start making good decisions. You’ve heard enough about Joel from Lucas to know he’s a total hardass. He could drag you by the ear to the dean and have you kicked out at the tail end of your second to last semester in this hellhole.

He glares down at you with his head cocked, hazel eyes far darker than they ever seem on TV. His scruff stipples his hardened jawline, lips thinned out like the worry lines pressed onto his forehead. If you were interested in digging yourself any deeper, you might stall to think about how good he looks: the faint trail of chest hair vanishing down into the neckline of his longhorns polo shirt, his fitted khakis, broad leather belt slung around his waist, and the slight bulge of tummy above it. You swallow hard and kick yourself for it.

“What exactly,” Coach Miller drawls, voice syrupy and sticky. “do ya think you’re doin’?”

Your mouth moves, but no words come out. He doesn’t seem very amused, his muscled arms crossing over his wide torso.

Joel shakes his head. “Ain’t a good look for you, hun, scrawlin’ that chicken scratch all over my QB’s jersey. Could get a real ugly charge for that.”

Heart crashing into your ribcage, you bite down on your lip. “I can pay the damages,” you blurt out.

He sizes you up all over again, eyes dragging up and down your body. They linger on your chest for a few extra seconds that you’re convinced that you just made up. “Can you, sugar? ‘Cause to me, looks like you’re the type to be chasin’ tips at whatever joint hires you.”

You don’t have the bandwidth to be as offended as you should be, especially because he’s right. You settle for glowering at him instead. A huff of laughter pinches out of him. “You give everyone you vandalize that blue look? Or is that lil’ number jus’ because you found out Lucas really ain’t that loyal?” With ease, Joel bulldozes over whatever thinning resolve you have remaining.

“What’s that sign over there say? ‘Treat women with respect’?” You say. Joel’s backlit like all of those over budgeted lockers behind him. You squint your eyes. “You know that’s fucking bullshit. So what if I give him a taste of his own medicine when he’s been a minute man for every girl with a pulse on this campus?” You cap your Sharpie and clip it back onto your collar and get to your feet. So much for good decisions. “Fuck right off with that.”

“Hey, hey. Down, hun.” Joel holds his hands out to you, and you notice just how heavily you’ve been breathing, just how close you are to him. “Never said you were wrong. Kid’s a fuck up in all sorts ‘a ways. But I don’t like how you’re mouthin’ off at me, Miss Priss. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re in dire need of a spankin’ to set you right.”

Your breath cuts short and your cunt bottoms out without your permission. You don’t need a mirror to know your eyes just went glassy, your lips parted as your mouth goes desert dry. As discreetly as you can manage, you squeeze your thighs together.

Joel doesn’t miss it. You can tell from the moment his brows raise and his eyes sparkle, the corner of his mouth picking up a smidge. “Oh, yeah? That do somethin’ for ya, hun? Nasty little girl.” There’s a dangerous, uneven grit to his voice that has arousal burning like a candle in your stomach, the wax of your arousal syrupy against your thighs already.

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips. Fuck.

“No,” you breathe out stubbornly, but you’ve already given yourself away, even to yourself. The insides of your thighs are molten, twitching with every throb of your clit between your legs. That flush of warmth from your pelvis is spreading, overheating.

Joel tuts. “You really think that? You can whine all you want ‘bout wantin’ respect, but at the end ‘a the day, you just wanna be treated like some whore, huh?” And, yeah, he has you figured out, has you in the palm of his hand. Even though you have no idea what someone like him could do to someone like you, you want him to do it. You want to find out. “I’ll tell ya what, sugar, you walk outta here right now and nobody but me’s gonna know you came pitchin’ a hissy fit in my locker room.”

You frown at that, a small arc of your pouty lips that has Joel’s eyes gleaming.

“Or,” he says. “You can pull those wet fuckin’ panties down – don’t gimme that look, I know they are – and I can give ya a real lesson in respect.” He shrugs, hands going to his waist as he looks you up and down.

He knows he has you the same way you know, but you aren’t just going to give in that easily. You flare your nose and counter, “If there’s nothing keeping me here other than a firm hand, why should I stay?”

He’s looking at you like he wants to take you apart. His fingers jump against his hips for the opportunity to break you down.

“Sweetness,” Joel shakes his head as if it’s obvious. “if you let me, I could make you feel good. I’m guessin’ you got some vibrator sittin’ in the back of your desk drawer to use when your roommate’s out ‘n about, but you don’t wanna use that tonight, do ya? You want the real thing, hun, and I’d give it to ya real nice once I teach ya to behave.”

There it is again: Coach Joel Miller has you all figured out. Every syllable he says is doomed to send another shiver up your spine, and damn it, fuck playing coy.

You’re too busy tearing off your hoodie to think about how unsexily dressed you are, but the rushed nature of your actions punches a chuckle out of Joel. “Eager thing.” You’re halfway through kicking your shoes and leggings off when he saunters over to the couch, plopping down on the edge and patting his broad, khaki-covered thigh. Your mouth waters when you look back and see just how much the fabric strains against his leg. “Whenever you’re ready, hun.”

You waddle over to him, stripped down to the basics of your sports bra and everyday panties. It’s the furthest thing from erotic, but the way he’s looking at you isn’t. It’s primal and ravenous, enough to have you forgetting all about how you’d even gotten there in the first place. He licks his lips as he trails his eyes all over you, darkening a couple of shades when he looks at your cleavage. “Lucas is a fuckin’ idiot, baby.”

“Knew that already,” you mumble.

He pats his thigh again, bounces his leg. “C’mon, over my knee like the good girl I know you can be. Hurry up and I’ll only give ya five.”

You shuffle forward, relishing in the rubbing of your thighs that comes from it. He’s sitting on the corner of the couch at the perfect angle for you to rest your head on the arm. It doesn’t take any more convincing for you to put yourself over his lap, not that he needed to do much in the first place. You feel so much smaller than him. Your ass is up for him to do whatever he’d like to; it’s a tantalizing feeling you hadn’t gotten out of any intimacy – if you could call it that — with Lucas.

“Mmmmmm,” Joel groans as he runs a hand between your legs. He rubs at your slit through the soaked gusset of your panties. You can’t stop the way your hips buck, or the pitiful shout that jumps off your lips when he pins you down by the small of your back, robbing you of any friction. Between one arousal-riddled breath and the next, Joel tugs your panties off and flings them to the side. You know how it feels, tacky and cold on your core and thighs, so you can only imagine how it must look. Joel gives you a pretty good idea when he reveres, “Goddamn, pretty cunt is throbbin’ for it.”

He pulls apart your folds and you think you hear him lick his lips above you before he lets them go. The schlick noise your dripping pussy makes is nothing less than pornographic. Joel gropes you carefully, kneads the skin of your ass like you have all the time in the world. Under his ministrations, it’s easy to melt into the couch, forgetting why you’re there in the first place until his palm cracks down on your ass cheek.

The stinging impact has a slurred hnnnngh leaving your lips, and a fresh gush of wetness between your legs to accompany it. You keep your head tucked into the sanctuary of your folded arms, eyes squeezed shut so tight you swear you’re seeing stars. Joel’s quick to rub the spanked patch of skin, his palm soothing his ache. “That’s one, baby.” You nod into your arms. “Think you can take four more?” Another nod.

“I need to hear ya, hun. C’mon, head up f’me.” He taps the side of your cheek, and you prop your cheek up on your forearm. “Think you can take four more?” he repeats.

Your voice hitches, courtesy of the beating that echoes in your chest and between your legs. “Y-yes…”

When the second hit lands, you don’t expect it. You flinch away from his hand when it comes down with a clap that leaves you squirming in his lap. “Yes, what?”

“Yes sir,” you whine out, back arching. Although a punishment, that spank has the same effect as the last: a live wire of arousal strung from your spine to your cunt.

“Takin’ it well,” he praises, squeezing your ass cheeks together. “Sure didn’t expect anyone to come crawlin’ in when I left that garage open, ‘specially not some slut like you with an ass that needs a spankin’ six ways to Sunday.” Just as quick as he can build you up, he can take you down a notch, but you can’t mind when it has you moaning all the same. “Oh, she likes that,” Joel clicks.

He rubs your ass again, and you’re bracing yourself for that next strike, pulled stiff with an arousing, anticipatory sort of fear. Only when you convince yourself it isn’t coming do you let all of that tension flood out of your body — and that’s when Joel smacks his hand across your far-too-trustworthy ass.

You cry out, pouting over your shoulder at Joel, who has a proud smirk drawn all over his face. You don’t even feel your hips rocking down, seeking whatever pleasure you can get until he reprimands, “Ruttin’ against my fuckin’ leg, now, huh? Don’t pretend you don’t like this.”

With a particularly good grind of your hips, you feel his bulge pressing into your thigh. From a mere graze alone, you can tell it’s huge. A whimper tears out of you at the same time he groans above you. “You got nothin’ to prove, ain’t gonna change the fact you’re a slut who needs to get spanked ‘n stuffed to talk ‘er into behavin’ a bit.”

“Can’t even follow your own rules,” you huff, apparently still interested in shooting yourself in the foot even when Coach Miller has you ass-up over his knee.

“Don’t see how you care…” Joel slides a hand down between your legs. He rubs at your clit, an intense pressure that has you wanting more and less all at the same time, before dragging a thick finger across your opening. Arousal squelches between your legs and your hips jump – a dead giveaway to just how turned on you are, whether you like it or not. “when it gets you this turned on,” he finishes. Then that same finger is prodding at your mouth, glistening with your wetness. You whimper before tasting yourself, sucking obediently on his finger until he pulls away with a pop.

You sulk, “Don’t act like I can’t feel you ripping a hole in your jeans, Miller–”

The fourth spank is the hardest by far. The skin of your ass feels bitten by Joel’s ‘firm hand’. It’s the kind of hit that makes your legs kick in his lap and your fingers clutch in the couch’s arm for purchase. You wail, “Daddy!” Pain disappears from your mind when you realize what exactly you just said, quickly replaced by the churning coolant of embarrassment. If you were paying attention to anything else other than the shame suddenly inhabiting your chest, you might’ve been able to feel the twitch of his cock in his pants.

“Daddy, huh?” Joel hums, rubbing your hurt ass with one hand while the other strokes your shoulder. You bury your face back in your arms as an apology takes shape in the back of your throat. “Lucas your daddy, too?”

“No!” You squeak, adjusting in his lap. The hood of your clit catches on the rough material of Joel’s pants. Unable to stop yourself, you hump his knee again, shallow rolls of your hips. You can still feel his hardness against you. Needily, you tip your head up, panting as foggy pleasure hangs over your head.

“Stop makin’ a mess of daddy’s dress pants, baby, unless you wanna be on your knees, lickin’ it up.” You keen, and he chuckles knowingly. “Shoulda known, little whore like you gets off on that.”

Joel gives you a longer reprieve between the fourth and fifth spank. Instead, he strokes your ass and asks, “One more gonna be enough to set you straight, sweetheart?”

“Y..yes daddy,” you whimper. He hums in approval.

You shift back and forth, waiting for it to come — and when it does, it’s softer. It’s by no means a love pat, but it pales in comparison to his previous work. You still sniffle, squeezing your thighs together as he coos, “I know, I know. Poor baby, actin’ all high ‘n mighty. Can’t be on her high horse when she’s over Daddy’s knee.” Gentle, he pats your ass and guides you on all fours at the edge of the couch. He hums in approval. “See? Not throwin’ a hissy fit anymore. She’s all nice ‘n obedient when you get ‘er to act right.”

Joel spreads your pussy with his thumbs, and you hear the vulgar noise of him collecting his saliva before you feel his spit landing on your clenching hole. You’ve never felt so empty, not when your bottom drawer vibrator is buzzing against your core, definitely not when Lucas fucks you in the same old missionary. Whimpering for him, you arch your back to try to rub against his crotch.

“Quit your whinin’,” he snips, his thumb finding your clit in one swipe. Joel’s touch is firm, but not too firm, just enough to make your hips push down with a need only he’s ever made you feel.

Without warning, his middle finger slides inside of you, thick and calloused and so, so right. “Fuckin’... tight.” Another slides in as he starts scissoring you open, apparently satisfied enough when he crooks his fingers deep in your cunt. Instantly, he catches that spongy spot that you can never reach on your own. You nearly crumple with the sensation, limbs going weak and buckling. “That the spot?” he asks, but he already knows.

“Mhm,” you moan, chin instinctively tucking against your chest as if you can get away from the pleasure he’s giving you, as if you’d ever want to.

Then — he stops.

His fingers sit heavy inside of you, so close to where you need them to go. “What the fuck, Joel?”

"Baby, s’that how you get what you want?” He rubs your thigh with his free hand and gives it a quick swat. “Help daddy out, tight girl. I'm not just gonna let you get away with bein’ a spoiled brat. Work yourself on my fingers."

You’re putty in the palm of his hand – malleable, docile for him to treat or mistreat you however gets him hard. You whine, punching your hips back nonetheless. Grinding down, down, down, your cunt unresisting when he gives you another finger. It’s crude, the way you moan for him.

Even though he’s hardly doing anything, just the hand you’re getting yourself off on, that all-consuming strain in your body only gets stronger. “Daddy – close, please…”

“Attagirl, atta-fuckin’-girl, give it to me.” He rewards you with a press of his fingers against that golden spot inside of you. Your orgasm splinters through you, an ecstasy-charged mist fanning over your body. Your release runs down Joel’s hand and your thighs with every clench of your cunt, like you’ve been skinned and set ablaze by your own desire. You fall forward on the couch, no longer able to hold yourself up, arms a tangled mess as you gasp into the cushion. “You come so pretty, baby. Messy pussy, too. Soaked me up to my goddamn elbow.”

You’re still reeling from the best orgasm you’ve had in months, maybe ever, when you hear obscene slurping noises from behind you. You cast a look at him, your arousal returning with a vigor at the sight of Joel sucking his fingers clean. He groans at the taste, and you swear you see his cock jump in his khakis. Stomach warped with desire, you’re about to plummet off of the very dangerous edge of doing just about anything for him right now.

“Please fuck me, daddy,” you plead, and in any other position, with any other person, it might be mortifying, something worth clutching your pearls over. But this is Coach Joel Miller, the last person you ever expected to be fucking, giving you the best fuck you never expected.

“There’s those manners,” Joel praises, leaning over you to press a brief kiss to your shoulder blade. You can smell your release on his lips, a sweet smell that’s so distinctly you. He eases off of you, presumably to take off his pants. There’s the shuffling of fabric, and when he returns to your side, you’re disappointed to find he hasn’t even unbuckled his belt.

You pout at him again, still desperate to get your way. Eye-level with his bulge, you’re salivating over it. You had made a mess of his dress pants, a wet spot formed just above his knee, taunting you. You lick your lips.

“Think it’s only fair,” he says, looming over you. He’s holding the Sharpie you’d brought along with you. Your brows furrow as you look up at him through your lashes. “If I give ya the same treatment you gave his jersey.” His gaze is cocky as he pops the cap with his thumb, giving the marker a twirl.

Oh.

It shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does. Nothing about this should turn you on as much as it does, yet here you are, in a puddle of your own sweat and cum, itching for the next thing he gives you. And if it’s marking up your body before he fucks your brains out, so be it.

He nudges his head, gesturing for you to get down on your stomach. You lift your knees up and flatten yourself out on the cushions. The vinyl sticks and pulls from your skin as you get where he wants you. A soft, surprised noise leaves you when he straddles your thighs, his clothed cock nudging at your seam.

“Holy fuck,” you breathe out, because it’s the only phrase you can think of that even holds a candle to what all of this has become.

A laugh fans out from under his breath as he starts at your freshly spanked, raw ass. The Sharpie is cold and foreign, tugging at your skin as he inks you up. “Gotta make sure you match before I dick you down, don’t I? What is it you wrote on his jersey? ‘Whore’? Between the two ‘a ya, I woulda put my money on you for that one.”

If that wasn’t enough indication, you figure out what he’s doing by the time he gets to the right cheek, what feels like an ‘R’ taking shape across your ass. He finishes the ‘E’ and sets down the Sharpie for a moment, his meaty palms spreading your ass. It still thrums with the afterglow of his spanking. You don’t think you can throb any more than you already are, but then he spits on you for the second time that night, this time landing it on your puckered asshole. A gasp flutters from your lips as you grind down into the couch, his spit dripping down your folds.

“See? Real whorish, fuckin’ my couch.” He taps your ass for good measure. “Asshole makes a perfect fuckin’ ‘O’, baby. Looks a whole lot better than that chicken scratch shit you put on his jersey.” You think maybe, just maybe, he’ll dismount you and pull his cock out, but instead he keeps writing, scribbling on your back and upper thighs. Every pull of your skin under the bleeding ink has you aching for him.

When he’s content with his work, he lifts off of you, hands fumbling to undo his belt. It snaps apart, dangling open around his waist as his hands open up his khakis. “You let Lucas fuck that sweet lil’ cunt raw?” he asks.

“No, I don’t,” you admit, unable to tear your eyes away from his cock as he pulls it out, and fuck you. Your eyes don’t even feel big enough to take all of him in, and you have no idea how you’re going to fit him between your legs. You almost go cross-eyed at the sight of it, his head leaking precum.

“Thought so. You gonna let me fuck it raw?”

“Yes, daddy,” you breathe out, drool pooling in your mouth at the thought of having him inside of you, having him inside of you bare. Yet another thing you never gave to Lucas in a year of disappointing sex, but are eagerly giving up to Joel.

“Gotta be a real nasty slut,” Joel says, returning to his place atop your thighs, his thick ones framing yours. Your breath hitches when you feel the weight of his cock gliding through your ass cheeks and down to your cunt. “to let your ex-boyfriend’s coach bareback ya in the locker room.” A heady gasp tears from you when the head of his cock bumps your clit. He teases you — his cock, slippery with a combination of your arousal, skating from your clit to your spasming opening, not quite nudging in.

“Daddy, please – I need it… need you to fuck me, fuck me–”

He doesn’t make you wait any longer.

When he pushes in, it knocks the air out of your lungs. The only proof that you’re still breathing is when you let out a pitchy, desperate moan. Joel grunts, teeth gritted as he flattens himself down against your spine so he can roll his hips into yours. The pain of his size becomes an afterthought just as quickly as the pain of your spanking, dwarfed by the pleasure he gives you just as easily.

“Fuuuuck,” Joel groans, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and shoulder. Inch at a time, he works you open, grinding his hips into your opening. “Could you be any goddamn tighter?” He bites at your neck from behind with every rock of his hips into yours until he bottoms out.

“Big,” is all you manage to squeak out as he hauls you back on his cock, already prodding your g-spot with his head. Your eyes roll back as you clench around him.

His fingers go up to run circles around your shoulder, soothing you, grounding you when his cock has you anything but. “Mmm, I know, I know. You can take it. All whores can.” With that, Joel starts fucking you, really fucking you, a punishing, relentless pace where he pulls out entirely before filling you to the brim. Each snap of his hips into yours fills the locker room with shameless sounds, the mere background to your depraved moans.

“Never had your pussy stretched by a man double your age before, huh?”

“N–no! Never… never had my pussy stretched mu…much at all–”

Joel slams into you, laughs at the strained noise that you make. “Yeah? Those dumbfucks on my team not doin’ it for ya, baby?” You don’t answer, don’t think he’s expecting one until his hand wraps around your front, forearm pressed firm against your tits. His thick hand wraps lightly around your neck, jostling you. It’s not hard enough to blur your vision, but just hard enough to remind you of the power he has over you. The power you allow him to have. It’s invigorating. Everything about him is.

Moans spurt out of you as you fumble to answer, “No da– daddy! You — ah! — do it for m–me!”

“And what do you say for that? For goin’ outta my way to show you what a real fuck is?”

“Thank you, Daddy!” you cry out. You’re spilling down his thighs, the wet suction of your pussy around his cock making noises more vulgar than you’ve ever heard in porn.

His hand squeezes again at your neck, and you feel floaty, a bubble just waiting to pop. Pleasure dances in every one of your veins, every nerve ending burning like a match that he keeps striking ablaze.

“There you go, desperate slut just needs a freshly spanked ass, a good dickin’ down, and a hand ‘round her throat to behave.” Joel’s pace stays just as harsh, crushing your g-spot with his cock. “Should keep you back here for when we lose, tie you to the goddamn desk. Let my staff take turns with you, see how much crybaby you have left in ya when a dozen men’s loads are drippin’ outta your reamed fuckin’ cunt. Bet you like it when men use you.” The whine that almost gags you on its way out is enough to confirm it.

If he keeps talking to you and the wind blows the right way on your clit, you know you’ll be coming. You’re wringing out his cock with every flutter of your pulsing pussy. The beginning embers of your orgasm turn into a wildfire when he wedges his free hand down between your legs, rubbing messy circles into your sloppy clit. “Fuck, please, please, please,” you sob out, too riddled with pleasure to care about how pathetic you sound or look as you hump his hand while he pounds you.

“Can feel you squeezin’ me, baby.” Joel rasps, nipping at your ear. The hand around your throat falls fully to your chest, pressing you solid against him so he can fuck deeper, deeper, deeper. It’s enough to make you scream, hands clawing and scratching down his muscular grip on you. “C’mon, hun, give it to me, come on my cock, fuck.”

With another thrust, he has you pushed right down onto his fingers, rubbing and flicking you every which way. It’s all you need to come undone, your second orgasm of the night unlatching through you like something forked and angry, battering your sore limbs until there’s nothing left of it or you. You’re a mess, spit oozing down your chin as you slur “thank you daddy” like a broken record, thighs clamping around nothing.

Joel groans as you clench around his cock and continues his relentless pace, hips slapping against yours. The hand he’d been using to rub your clit migrates to your tits, grazing and then thumbing and then tugging lightly your nipples. “There it is, told ya you could be a good girl. Lettin’ your daddy use this cunt to get off, lettin’ me use you. I’m fuckin’ close, baby, where do you want me?”

And you want it even if you shouldn’t, want his cum deep inside of you, want it to leak out into your panties as you walk back to your dorm. You’re still no good at making decisions, too fucked out to tell right from left when you beg, “I–inside, fuck, come inside me, daddy, please.”

Joel practically growls at that, thrusts losing their steadiness as his hips jump and he hurtles towards his release. “Yeah, you’re a goddamn whore, beggin’ for this cum. And you’re gonna fuckin’ take it, yeah… fuckin’ take it.” He slams all the way into you for the last time before shooting his cum into your cunt, swearing and moaning. Breathing like he’s run a mile, he goes slack on top of you, pets the back of your head while he comes down from the exhilaration of his high.

With a gentle kiss to your shoulder, he rises, and the fantasy is over. His cock slips from your pussy, and you feel hollow with the loss. This is where he tucks himself back into his pants, runs a hand back through his hair, tells you to never show your face in his stadium again, and shoves you out the door.

And he does: tucks his softening cock into his boxers, zips up his khakis, does his belt, tames his post-sex head of hair. You wince even if you expected it, leaning down over the edge of the couch to grab your hoodie, already moving to tug it over your head.

“What do you think you’re doin’?” Joel asks, and his tone sounds much more different than the first time he’d asked you. He sounds offended. You blink confusedly, dazedly at him with your arms halfway through the armholes. “Let me clean you up, hun.” Joel side-steps the pile of your leggings and shoes, adjusting the hoodie on your arms and pulling it down your torso. “I know Lucas ain’t done you right, but you deserve to be taken care of, pretty girl.” Your heart pinches in a way that it shouldn’t, not for a hookup with your ex-boyfriend’s coach.

You shift, and he can’t help but look back between your legs where his cum escapes your hole. He manages to pry his eyes away, but not without licking his lips first. “I’ll be right back, baby. Promise.”

When he’s back, it’s with a damp rag. He crouches down in front of you, taking it to the apex of your thighs and wiping away the combination of your releases, careful not to nudge your sensitive clit. He kisses your thigh gently before pulling back, folding the towel on the arm of the couch you’d been crying into just a few minutes ago.

Joel shimmies your ruined panties up your thighs, followed by your leggings. You let him, breath cut like a snipped wire from the sheer intimacy of it all, intimacy you’d lacked with Lucas even after a year of trying. You’d stayed with him for comfortability at your own expense. How stupid could you have been?

Joel pats your knee, eyes soft and weirdly sincere as he looks at you. “I’m sorry about Lucas, honey, but I meant it when I said you deserve to be taken care of.” He rubs the back of his neck before holding something out to you. A business card, his work number plastered in bold sans-serif font across the bottom. “I know this is in reverse ‘n all, but I’d really like to take you out and treat you right, if you’ll let me.”

Saying yes is your first good decision in a while.

#vetty's words 𓇢𓆸 #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller/reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller/f! reader #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic

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kyber-crystal · 4 months

Text

i will follow you into the dark || bradley "rooster" bradshaw

summary: your first instinct has always been to push people away when they get too close, but for some reason, you have trouble letting one pilot go. but little did you know that he had settled into your heart from the start and has no intention of leaving. (in which you have Bradley Bradshaw wrapped around your finger, and you don’t even notice—5 occasions that solidify your love for him, and 1 time you realize it)

words: ~3.3k

warnings: angst (BUT A HAPPY ENDING, I PROMISE), near-death experiences, brief mentions of violence, also my writing LMAO

a/n: hi guys i haven't posted a full-length fic in a LONG time but here we go :) this fic won the vote so it's going up first! hope you enjoy :)

I. meet me in the middle

“Mav!”

You and Maverick turned around at the same time. “Which one?”

“The pretty one,” Rooster stated.

“Be more specific.”

“I am being specific, Captain.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“Fine, I need your daughter.”

“You always need her for something.”

“Sorry, pops,” you grinned and clasped Maverick’s shoulder, and walked over to Bradley. “Come to kidnap me again, Bradshaw?”

“Actually, I’m hungry.”

“Then…go eat? I don’t see what any of that has to do with me.”

“I’m going to dinner, and I want you to come along,” he explained. “So, let’s go.”

“Is that why Cyclone was grumbling about someone spilling coffee all over him earlier? I knew it had to be you that put him in that mood.”

“Doesn’t matter. Come on.”

You looked back at your father, who simply laughed and motioned for you to go. The test flight would have to wait.

It was 5:30 when you got there, but the usually-crowded cantina had only one other person inside. Rooster didn’t hesitate as he set down his car keys and slid into the booth right next to you.

“There’s a seat right there,” you pointed out.

“And?”

“You can sit over there.”

“I don’t want to, though.”

“Alright, then.”

You weren’t even done for the day and already, felt tired and worn out beyond belief. The one thing that had been keeping you going was Maverick’s promise to take you on a Mach 7 test flight. (With the Admiral’s permission, of course. But you wouldn’t be surprised if he had never asked.)

Rooster tells the waitress your order without blinking, and you give him a tired smile as a thank you.

There’s no animated conversation, no loud comments or jokes or anything of the sort as the food comes out, but neither of you mind. Sometimes, all you needed to cool down from a long week was each other’s company and a steaming plate of fajitas.

The little routine you’ve established falls into place so easily you don’t even have to think. Impromptu dinners, blasting 80’s music as the sun goes down, taking the offbeat path down to the coast with salt in your windswept hair. Little to no words spoken, and somehow the silence speaks volumes.

But you don’t understand why he’d choose you to do this with, out of everyone. You’d expect him to drift towards someone less damaged. Someone who could keep up to his free and daring spirit and push him to his limits. Someone who had less baggage and didn’t flinch at every little touch.

But despite all that he doesn’t leave. Even when everyone else around you seemed to, he was always there, assuring you he’d wait no matter what.

“Don’t worry about it.” He places a gentle hand over yours as he hands his card over to pay later that evening. “Let me treat you tonight.”

“Thanks…”

He holds the door open for you as you walk out and keeps a ghost of a hand against your back the whole way to the car. You’re trying to burrow into yourself, but he doesn’t stop looking at you. The feeling of his eyes on you sends shivers running down your spine and you nervously shift in your seat.

“You okay?” Rooster places his hand on the headrest as he reverses out of the parking lot. “You seem quiet tonight.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t press any further, assuming that you’re tired and that’s why you’re unwilling to say much. He knows. He understands. “If you ever need to talk, though, I’m one call and a 15 minute walk away. Or 7, if I sprint.”

This makes you laugh a bit. “If you say so.”

II. waiting on you

As soon as you hop out of your plane, he’s the first one there to greet you and pulls you in for a hug. You have no time to react to it because he’s so quick to sweep you up into his arms. You can smell a mix of sweat and coffee and a little bit of raspberries on him, and it helps bring you back down to reality.

“You saw me a few hours ago, Roos…please let me go…” you mumbled into his shoulder. His grip on you only tightens further. “What’s with the excitement?”

“Nothing. I’m just happy to see you.”

Not knowing what else to do, your hands awkwardly reach up to pat him on the back. “It’s good to see you, too.”

Though you don’t say it out loud, you’re also just as happy to see him—it’s comforting to know he’ll be waiting whenever you return from something. And that, you think, is more than enough.

Rooster carries your things for you without asking, and you’re grateful because your shoulders feel like they’re going to fall out of their sockets. Once again, he’s standing close by as you go to your quarters, ever the watchman. If he doesn’t have a hand on you, then his eyes will stay glued to you for as long as they can be.

“Is that my shirt?” he asks as you step out of the bathroom wearing an oversized vintage T-shirt and a pair of jeans.

“No.”

“It looks better on you, anyway.” He smirks; you fail to notice the way his gaze lingers on you a bit longer than normal. “You ready to go? They’re waiting for us at the Hard Deck. Hangman’s complaining about a rematch or somethin’.”

You lean into his side and smile, and he puts an arm across your shoulders. It feels so natural that you almost don’t notice. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

His eyes never leave you, even when he’s in the thick of the game. It’s impossible to ignore the heat pooling in your stomach every time his gaze flickers over to yours.

Coyote notices your dazed look and nudges Payback in the side. “How is it that everyone knows that Bradshaw and Y/N love each other except Bradshaw and Y/N?”

“Because they’re stupid,” Payback whispered back.

“Ah. Makes sense.”

“So, we need to do something about it.”

“Hm…I’d say we wait it out. They’re going in the right direction.” A small smile graced Coyote’s face as Rooster pumped a fist up in victory before rushing over to embrace you. “A room full of people, yet all he sees is her.”

“You’re so right, man.”

III. rose-tinted glasses

“What are you looking for out there?” Rooster called out.

“Something pretty,” you replied as you stood by the ocean’s edge, the wind fanning your hair around your shoulders. He’s sure that he’s never seen a more mesmerizing sight.

“I beat you to it, because I already found one,” he stated with confidence, eyes never leaving you.

“Where?”

“I’m looking right at her.”

“That’s not what I meant, silly. Do I look like a seashell to you?”

“No, you’re even better.”

You laugh once again and resume your search. Right then, a glowing scallop catches your eye, and sand dusts your clothes as you bend down to pick it up. It’s smooth and seems to glow in rose gold amidst the early evening light.

“Would you look at that,” you breathed out, palm extended to show him what you’ve found. “It’s perfect.”

Rooster encloses his hand around yours, and you can feel the heat radiating from his skin. It’s cold out but you’re not freezing at all because he’s so close. He’s so close. Your heart skips a beat.

“Wow…it sure is.”

He kneels down with you, and you spend the next few hours making it a competition to see who can find the most unique set of stones. A strange feeling washed over you as you watched his brows furrow in concentration. Never had you imagined to be spending Thursday night with Bradley Bradshaw by the seashore, and yet, it feels like you’ve done this thousands of times before.

Everything seems to fall into place.

IV. for you, i’d cross the line

“Y/N, hey.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Doesn’t matter. Move over.”

You shifted on the bench to make room for him and he sat down next to you. This was probably his tenth time playing his rendition of ‘Great Balls of Fire’ but that didn’t matter; the man knew how to sing. You found yourself leaning into him and listening to his heartbeat, and the sensation lulled you into a peaceful trance.

You took one good look at your best friend. Sweat lined his forehead and his face was bright red from both the alcohol and heat, but still, you were 100% sure that you’d never seen a more beautiful sight in your life.

The way he seemed to gaze at you made your heartbeat pick up speed. It didn’t matter that he had too one too many drinks in the moments leading up to this, nor did it matter that he was always one to be rather affectionate with you. It didn’t make you love him any less—if anything, it made him all the more endearing.

“You’re looking at me very…intensely,” you mumbled. “It’s making me nervous.”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured. “A man can’t help it when he’s in love.”

“Was that tipsy you or sober you?”

“Sober me is saying I love you.” He continues playing, unfazed, and the sound of the piano in your ears fades away into nothingness.

It’s drunk Rooster telling you he means what he says, the confidence boost making him do things he normally wouldn’t. It’s drunk Rooster attempting to serenade you as his warm, alcohol-riddled breath falls against your neck. It’s drunk Rooster talking…but there’s a sober truth hidden behind his words that sends a shiver down your spine.

You’re nose-to-nose as he starts to sing, and you lose yourself in a sea of gold and blue as his warm thumb grazes over your cheek. As if there’s an invisible string drawing you together, you move closer and closer towards each other. Drunk or not, he was utterly enchanting and you couldn’t turn away.

Once again…you ignore the stirring feeling in your chest at the feeling of his body being so close to yours.

V. saving grace

You find yourself opening the door to Rooster, who has a bouquet of your favorite flowers and some large Tupperware in hand. Butterflies flutter in your stomach as you accept them and step aside to let him in. “What is this for…?”

“Thought you’d want something nice to add to the kitchen. You and Mav need to work on decorations,” he said. “Why? Do you not like them?”

“No…I’m…how’d you know these were my favorite, anyway?”

“I heard you talking on the phone to Phoenix about them six months ago,” Rooster explained, taking his jacket off and hanging it over the couch. “I pride myself on being observant like that. Also…I woke up early to cook you that pasta you always go nuts over when we drive to LA.”

“Oh.” Your heart twinged as you glanced over—that damn pasta was your favorite thing on the entire planet. You claimed that nobody could make it as well as the diner in Newport did, except Bradley himself. (He didn’t tell you how many times it took to get it just right, though. He didn’t want you freaking out over that. And besides, Maverick’s pots and pans that he borrowed had already paid the price.)

He paused for a moment after setting the container down on the counter. “I noticed you went home early today. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine,” you lied as you put the flowers in a vase. But that was no use; he could see right through your monotone response. “Didn’t sleep enough last night.”

Bradley sees your hands tremble slightly. “Sweetheart.”

That’s all he needs to say before you step forward and lean your head against his chest. One arm finds its way around your waist to pull you close, while his free hand smoothes your hair out. A cracked sob escapes your lips and you squeeze your eyes shut in the hopes that if you kept them closed long enough and prayed hard enough, a guardian angel would swoop in and save you.

“I’m here, it’s okay, you’ll be okay,” he murmurs. “You’ll be okay.”

“Please don’t go, Bradshaw,” you begged, voice hoarse. “Don’t leave me.”

“I’m right here, don’t worry,” he reminds you, his hand moving down to rub your back. “I’ll be here whenever you need me, I promise.”

You reach your pinky out a bit, and the two of you link your fingers together.

You’re never letting go, and neither is he.

epilogue—soul ties

“I’m trying to shake them off. They won’t let up—shit, I’m hit—”

His panicked voice cuts through the buzz of static and you can feel your whole body go numb. What if he doesn’t make it back… The thought alone is too much to bear.

He curses under his breath and you hear something like that of a whispered prayer and several mentions of Please let me come home to her. Your heart clenches in your chest and you feel like you’re going to puke. Noticing your sudden uneasiness, Maverick grips your hand to keep you steady.

“Bradshaw, what the hell is going on there?” Coyote nervously rubs at his forehead as he looks up at the screen. “If you die, we’re all going to kill you.”

“Left engine’s completely blown out. I have two bogeys on my tail.”

You bite the inside of your cheek until the tangy, metallic taste of blood fills your mouth. This couldn’t be happening. There already was a ghost amongst the skies, and Rooster could not afford to become the second…

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit, I’m going down, guys—” Rooster curses again, and the earsplitting sound of a large blast interrupts him before he can say much else.

“Bradley!” you shrieked as you watched his radar signal slowly fade off the screen. “No—”

Silence punctures the air and you finally lose balance, succumbing to the black void of nothingness.

—

10 hours later, you sit outside the hospital room in the cold hallway, a thin, tear-stained blanket wrapped around your shoulders. Hangman and Phoenix had long since given up on getting you to move, so they took turns sitting with you.

“You should try eating. There’s In-N-Out nearby, I’ll get something for you if you want,” Jake offered.

You shake your head.

“Come on. It’s been all day.”

“No.”

“You’re really that worried about him, aren’t you.”

“No,” you muttered bitterly.

“You claim to not care, yet you’ve been sitting here for the past ten hours.”

“I don’t care. This is me looking out for him in the same way any colleague or teammate of his would. This is what I’m supposed to do. What we’re all supposed to do.”

“Y/N.” Jake sounds a bit more serious this time, and this makes you stop trying to bury yourself within your thoughts. “Listen to me.”

“What,” you exhaled.

"The fact of the matter here is,” he cleared this throat, “Bradshaw cares about you…a lot. Not in a simple and innocent ‘friendly’ way. And if you keep pushing him away like you always do, all 'cause you're scared, you're gonna lose him for good. Losing a good man out of fear is never worth the cost."

Your heart stops.

Every hug, every word and cheesy pickup line, every lingering glance and touch and intertwined set of fingers—he'd fallen first long ago, and pulled you down with him. But you let him, and you'll walk to the ends of the earth if it means he'll hold your hand along the way. And that's when everything hits all at once—the realization comes crashing down like a waterfall.

You were hopelessly in love with him, the man who brings you flowers every Friday night. In love with the man who holds the door open for you, gives you his favorite jackets, and stays up late or wakes up early to learn your favorite comfort meal (even if it means failing 17 times in the process and ruining Maverick's kitchen), the man who serenades you to classic rock ballads with the taste of rum on his lips.

This was Rooster Bradshaw, and he was your soulmate.

“But I already lost him,” your voice falters as you struggle to find the right words to say, “I can’t.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. That man is going to stay waiting for you until the day his body is buried six feet underground. Deny it all you want, but he’ll keep waiting long after he takes his last breath.”

You let out a long sigh and stood up. “Okay.”

You’re hesitant as you step inside the small hospital room. He’s asleep, but he must’ve sensed your presence and his eyes flutter open.

“Sweetheart…”

“Bradley.” He moves over a bit for you, and you sit down next to him. “You’re alive.”

“Sorry for not dying. That must’ve disappointed you,” he jokes. If he’s in any sort of pain, he manages to mask it behind a soft smile. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

“I waited ten hours.”

“You should’ve gone home and slept.”

Closing your eyes, you rest your head against his chest. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing that you weren’t okay.”

He hums some tune against the crook of your neck; lips brushing over your skin. “But I came back, like I promised. I’m okay, because you are.”

Helovesmehelovesmehelovesme.

As if he could read your mind, he leans in just that bit closer. You look up at him and your heart somersaults in your chest.

When your lips meet, everything clicks into place and it’s like you finally found the missing puzzle piece you’d been searching for. He was here all along; it made so much sense. Everything else fades away into the background as you get lost in the feeling of him and him alone. You knew from the moment he stuck out his hand and told you with a million-dollar smile “I’m Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw, and I can make a mean lasagna or anything else you want,” that choosing him would be the single best thing you ever could’ve done.

And you were most certainly right about that now.

“I kept it, you know.” he murmurs as you eventually break away, “I didn’t think it would last as long as it did, but here it is.”

“What…what are you talking about?”

He fingers dip below the scoop of his T-shirt and he brings out the glittering charm, laying it in his hand. “You gave it to me ages ago. It was a while ago but I still remember the exact time and place. August 5th, 2010, 2:26 a.m. We were both on the verge of falling asleep.”

Your heart grows warmer. “Roos…”

Rooster opens the locket, and inside is a picture of you beaming as you wrapped your arms around him from behind. So young and so in love, but not yet knowing how you felt about each other.

“I think this is what kept me alive up there. I was in the air long enough to think about and reflect on the fact that I was dying, but I knew I had to come home to you. I was dying, Y/N, but you saved me. If you didn’t come into my life right when you did then I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t be telling you that I love you.”

He has you at a loss for words yet again. It didn’t matter that you’d known each other for years because he would always find a way to steal your breath. The once-tiny caterpillars crawling in your stomach had morphed into giant butterflies that never stopped fluttering when he came too close.

He leans in and he’s kissing you again; this time it’s like you’re his sole source of oxygen and he’s in desperate need of fresh air. Your grip on his hand tightens as he deepens the kiss, and you pray to God that your heart won’t explode into a million pieces like it did when you thought you wouldn’t see him again.

I’ve died and come back to life twice now, Rooster tells himself.

And both of those times, you’re the angel that magically appears to save him from a certain, unfortunate fate.

tags, including people who may be interested (sorry if this list seems off, it hasn't been updated in a while hahah): @sarcastic-sourwolf @totomoshi @sebastianstangirl01 @purelyfiction @lunamoonbby @hazelgirl355 @multifandom-fangirl4 @paintballkid711 @buckysbeloved @lyn-lc @spawn0fsatan @milestomaverick @teacactusworld @cherry-waved @ellabellabus07 @vitanileon @lam-ila @criminalyetminimal @whatlovegattado @queenbbarnes @yeehawnana @t-stark35 @thesunsetphantoms @danirose-0420 @callalily2000 @the-untamed-soul @shizzybarnaclee @bananaa @luvfurdogs @shalaniela @unordinare @and-claudia @lgg5989 @katiemcrae @elenavampire21 @joyfullyswimmingface @nyx2021 @cosm1cfae @ellabellabus07 @vane28282 @bittergomez @littlebadariell @tallrock35 @whotfatemywaffles @hoedameronsworld @aerangi @julia-marshal @uwiuwi

(also if you filled out the general taglist form/top gun taglist form and you're not on here, that means i couldn't tag you for some reason)

#top gun #top gun: maverick #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfic #top gun fanfic #top gun fic #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster bradshaw x reader #miles teller #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw x y/n #top gun maverick fic #top gun fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x you

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headkiss · 10 months

Text

you’ll always know me

part 1, part 2

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: even as the crowds at his shows get bigger and bigger, eddie munson still has you, his very best friend. or, (for my swifties) eddie munson is your dorothea.

word count: 8.6k

warnings: fluff, a little angst, childhood best friends to lovers (sort of), weed and smoking, librarian!reader, first kiss, so many uses of the words “i miss you,” and some idiots in love !!!

a/n: hiiiii!!! this one took so long but i really love rockstar!eddie and i hope you do too!!! this is inspired by tis the damn season and especially dorothea by taylor swift <3 thank you to my love @inkluvs for encouraging me on this one ily!!!

♫♩♪♬

It’s surreal to watch someone close to you grow so much bigger than the town you live in.

To know that the person you see on the news, at award shows on your TV screen, is the same one who used to push you on the swings at the playground, who used to walk with you to and from school, who grew up beside you, closer than anyone else ever could have.

Closer than anyone ever would, still.

To most people, he’s Eddie Munson, lead singer and guitarist of Corroded Coffin. To you, he’s Eddie, the best friend you’ve ever had.

You can go back years and years, and Eddie’s woven into your life for so much of it. So is his music. You can pick out the points: watching Corroded Coffin play for the first time in middle school, watching their first gig at the Hideout, being in the front row for it all wearing the widest smile, having the loudest cheers.

Even the late night phone calls you’d get when he’d be stuck on lyrics, when he wanted someone’s opinion and chose to dial your number instead of his bandmates’.

(“Hello?”

“I can’t get this line to sound right.”

“Let’s hear it, Munson.”)

You’re often in disbelief of where he is now. Not because you ever doubted him, but because even after so long, it’s strange not to see him every day. You’re insanely proud of him, but that doesn’t mean you don’t miss him.

Because you do. You miss him so much.

A box sits on the top shelf of your closet, one filled with newspaper and magazine clippings, articles about the band’s success, positive reviews about their shows and their albums. Things to show that Eddie’s dream came true, and that’s a rare thing.

There’s only one kind of tabloid you choose not to keep: the ones booming with rumors you selfishly hope aren’t true.

‘Lead singer of Corroded Coffin has a new spark? Read more to find out who’s caught famous bad boy Eddie Munson’s eye.’

You see him constantly in pictures, through a screen, but you only really ever see him on holidays, when he’s able to come home. When he comes bursting back into your life in vibrant fireworks with his stupid, pretty smile and stupid, shining brown eyes. When he comes back only to leave all over again.

You only have yourself to blame, really, for letting it tear you up. Because more than anything, you’re happy for him, so happy you could never express it properly, but still, there’s an ache in you when he crosses your mind, when the feelings linger.

Life in Hawkins for you consists of working at the library, reading your days and thoughts away, hanging out with the gang when you’re up to it, and that’s about it.

Eddie always knows where to find you when he does come home, usually barging into the library with his arms open for a hug, one you rush into easily. You always spend the couple days he has in Hawkins together, being the you and him you’ve been since you were kids. But the lingering reminder doesn’t fade, the reminder of him having to leave looming over you like a storm cloud.

Eddie Munson comes home sporadically, unknowingly taking your heart with him wherever he goes. And when his inevitable departure takes place, you’re forced to regrow what’s missing from your chest. Every single time.

Besides his uncle Wayne, who could only ever see him as a troublemaking kid, you’re the only person who’s never treated Eddie any differently.

Not in high school when he was labeled a freak, not even when the fame rose so suddenly it felt like a tidal wave. You kept him afloat. You keep him afloat.

He knows he should call more often, he knows that even if the phone works both ways, you really don’t have a way of keeping track of which hotel he’s in, which state, which country, even. He knows that falls on him.

Your phone number’s burned into Eddie’s memory. He could never forget it, and still, he can’t seem to find the time to dial it. He’ll get called away, or he’ll just be getting back from a show and barely have the energy to shower before getting in bed. Worse, he’ll get the panicked sense that you won’t pick up anymore.

At least he’s never missed your birthday. That, he’ll always make time for, usually phoning you at the same time that a bouquet of flowers arrives at your door. And somehow, even when he’s away, you don’t miss his birthday, either.

Eddie’s sitting on the small couch in his dressing room, waiting to go on stage, thinking of you the way he often does.

He wonders if you think of him, too. If you miss him or if you’re angry that he’s gone so often, that he can barely even manage a fucking phone call. Though, you were never the type to be angry. Never with him, at least.

He wants to hear your voice, wants to hear you tell him ‘good luck’ before going on stage like you used to. He peeks at the table next to the couch. Eddie’s not sure how much time he has before he needs to go, but he figures it’s worth a try.

Just as he’s about to pick up the phone in his dressing room, there’s a knock on the door.

“Munson! You’re on in five!”

He’ll call you later, then.

“Beginning descent to the Indianapolis International Airport.”

The muffled sound through the airplane’s speakers is followed by the ding of the seatbelt signs being turned on. Eddie shifts in his seat to look out the window. He’s got his own little cubicle in first class, and though this is how he always flies now (other than when he finds himself on a private jet, which is even more unbelievable), he’s still not used to it.

He’s itching to get out of this seat, then he remembers that he’s still got the trek through the airport and the drive back to Hawkins. It’ll be worth it to see Wayne, who he doesn’t see nearly as often as he should, and get his classic hug with a slap on his shoulder.

It’ll be worth it to see you, who makes Hawkins feel more like home. You, who reminds him of the person he’s always been, the parts that get lost on the road. You, who hugs him tighter than anyone else ever has.

His hands clench into fits in his lap.

As soon as Eddie steps off the plane, his security team finds him. He’d assured them that he’d be fine, really, but this is how it is for him now. Through baggage claim and all the way to the car that’s waiting for him outside, security takes a step whenever he does.

Shutting the car door as he slides into the backseat, Eddie tips his head back and sighs.

The car ride feels shorter than usual, the city fading into trees and fields until the ‘Welcome to Hawkins’ sign comes into view. The gravel crunches under the car’s tires as it pulls into the trailer park. Wayne’s got enough to get a better place now, Eddie made sure of it, but he never did. He’d never admit it but Wayne’s sentimental, and the trailer houses too many memories to let go of it.

After all, it was home.

Stepping through the front door there’s the smell that he’d never noticed until he’d been gone for weeks at a time. The settled dust, the faint smoke of cigarettes, coffee, and the room spray Wayne inevitably uses to try and cover it all up.

Eddie drags his bags inside, waves to his driver, and shuts the door behind him.

Then, Wayne’s warm rasp, “my boy. Get in okay?”

He’s wrapped in his uncle’s classic hug quickly, the pats on his shoulder and all. Eddie closes his eyes and soaks it in, just for a second, “yeah. It was fine.”

“Good, good,” Wayne says, pulling back and grasping Eddie’s shoulders, getting a good look at him. “Take a shower.”

“Is that your way of telling me I look like shit?”

“Nah, that’s me telling you that you smell like airport, boy.”

“It’s great to see you, too,” Eddie says, smiling.

He and Wayne have the kind of relationship that time doesn’t really affect all that much. Whether Eddie’s away for a week or a month, or two, or three, they fall back into things like he’d never even left.

He knows Wayne’s probably lonely, probably hiding more than he could imagine, but he also knows that he loves him, and that’s always a good thing to know, to feel. Loved.

“Shut up, you know I missed you,” Wayne shakes Eddie’s shoulders and lets go, “now go wash up and you can tell me about your last show over some coffee, sound good?”

“Sounds good. I missed you too, Wayne.”

Eddie carries his bags into his room, leaving them open on the ground rather than unpacking. He’ll just have to pack them all over again, anyways.

Before long, the trailer’s small bathroom is filling with steam as Eddie steps into the shower, dropping his neck back and letting the water run over his shoulders, his back. He stands like that for a bit, simply letting the heat melt away at the tension in his muscles.

By the time he steps out, the mirror is completely fogged with steam, and Eddie wipes away at a section to look at himself. The bags under his eyes, the mess of his hair that he doesn’t bother taming, the small scratch on his chin from one of his rings. He shakes his head and heads into his room with his towel around his waist.

He throws on a pair of plaid pajama pants and a faded band tee, his hair soaking the back of it drop by drop.

In the kitchen, Wayne’s got two mugs of coffee sitting on the small table, a seat already pulled out for Eddie to take.

“Thanks.”

He nods, sipping from his mug as Eddie does the same.

In the silence, he can’t help but think of you, of how close he is to you now. Mere minutes away. He wonders what you’re doing, if you’re reading in bed after your shift, if you’d just showered like him, if you’re thinking of him, too.

“I saw her the other day,” Wayne says.

They both know he means you.

“How’s she doing?”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll ask her that when you see her tomorrow, but she seemed good.”

“How'd you know I’m gonna see her tomorrow?”

“Come on, kid. You go to the library the day after you get in every time and think I don’t notice?”

Eddie looks down at the mug in his hands, his face warm. It shouldn’t matter, shouldn’t have him feeling all shy and nervous, like he’d been caught, but it does.

“She misses you,” Wayne adds.

“She tell you that?”

“Doesn’t have to. I’ve known that girl since she was little and running after you on the playground. I can tell.”

Wayne has always said that you’re as good as family, after all. Eddie used to joke that his uncle liked you more than him, and you used to laugh and joke back that he was right.

Eddie’s suddenly very excited to sleep, only to get to tomorrow quicker.

“I miss her, too.”

“Yeah, kid. I know,” Wayne leaves it there, switching things over, “I saw you almost eat shit on TV the other day.”

“Come on!” Eddie groans. He’d tripped over a fucking wire on stage. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“It was still fuckin’ funny.”

“Of all the shows, you just had to tune in for that one.”

Wayne asks about the tour, about how Eddie’s liking it this time around, about whether or not there’s anything new he’s working on.

In return, Eddie asks about the mechanic’s, about whether or not Wayne’s back has been acting up (which earns him a light slap on the back of the head), about what’s changed in Hawkins since the last time he’d been home.

Even through the smiles he shares with his uncle, Eddie’s wondering how you’ll react when you see him tomorrow, picturing how it’ll feel to be near you again. He gets that feeling in his gut, the butterflies that are nerves and excitement and questions and feelings rolled into one.

He’s pretty sure he dreams about you, too.

Your shifts at the library are always long; full days of scanning and shelving books. You’re lucky to say that you actually like your job. The smell of worn pages, the peacefulness (save for when Dustin comes barging in with his stack of overdue books that you let him off the hook for every time), the interactions that are almost always short and sweet since it’s meant to be a quiet place.

Your eight or nine or however many hour days go by much quicker now than they did during your high school job at the grocery store, that’s for sure.

You’re pushing the put-back cart between shelves, humming a random song quietly as you place the books where they belong, sometimes pausing to straighten things out. It’s the middle of a weekday and you’re the only person in there anyway. That is, until the small bell on the front desk dings.

“Just a second!” You call, squeezing between the cart and the self beside it to walk over to the front desk. You think your heart stops altogether.

You’d recognize that head of hair anywhere, the dark, frizzy curls. Hell, you’d recognize that damn denim vest anywhere, even the stance of the person wearing it. “Eddie?”

He turns around at the sound of your voice, and something lifts from his chest when he sees you. A grin spreads wide on his face, splitting his cheeks and crinkling his eyes in the corners, “there she is.”

Usually, when he comes home, it’s on a holiday and you’re expecting him, watching the door and waiting for him to walk through it. This time, you had no idea he’d be coming home. It’s the best surprise you could get.

You’re practically running into his arms, and he wraps them around your waist easily, yours tossed around his shoulders. Your face is buried in his neck, breathing him in, making sure this is real. “What the hell are you doing here?”

His hands clutch at the fabric over your sides, his head twisting so he can place a kiss over your hair, “had a break from tour. Missed home.”

And sure, Eddie hadn’t really realized just how much he missed it until he came back, it’s crystal clear now, with you hugging him. He really, really missed home.

You want to say something stupid and emotional like it hasn’t felt as much like home until now, or I missed the sound of your voice and the smell of your shampoo, but that would probably reveal a little too much.

“Just home you missed or…” you tease, pulling back to look at his face, his brown eyes that sort of sparkle. Your hands stay on his shoulders, his on your waist.

“I missed Wayne, obviously,” Eddie replies, acting oblivious and smiling at the small furrow in your brow.

“Eddie!”

“Aw, come on.” He tugs you in for another hug, his cheek squished against the side of your head. “‘Course I missed you, trouble.”

Trouble. You never knew you could miss a single word so much.

Eddie started calling you ‘trouble’ when you were kids, sometime in middle school when you’d stolen a bunch of his mixtapes and only returned them weeks later, when he finally noticed. He’d snatched them out of your hands and muttered ‘you’re trouble’ and it just stuck.

“Thank you,” you say, laughing when Eddie pulls back frowning at you. “And I missed you, too. Duh.”

“Duh.” He mocks. He lets go of you fully but doesn’t go far, leaning an elbow against the desk, “you’re doing okay?”

“I’m good. Things don’t change all that much around here, you know that.”

“I’m not asking about around here, I’m asking ‘bout you.”

You tug at the hair tie on your wrist. “I’m fine, Eddie. Promise.”

He nods, and there’s a small lull in the conversation that pinches at your chest for some reason. The sort of silence that never used to be there when it came to you and Eddie, always filling it with conversation or letting it be comfortable. Now, there’s something like awkwardness stretching and it stings.

Because it shouldn’t be there, because he’s Eddie and you’re you and you’re best friends and that’s all there should be to it. But it isn’t. You’re the same people, but so much is different.

“You working late?” He asks.

“Until we close.”

“Care for some company?”

You tilt your head at him, “you really wanna hang around the library for the last four hours of my shift?”

“Sounds like fun to me. I’ll even push the cart for you, and you can tell me what I’ve missed while I was away.”

It’s funny that he thinks he’d ever have to convince you to spend time with him, when you’re practically pulling at any thread of him that you can, when you’re taking anything he has to give you. Two days, a week, a couple of phone calls.

It’s all better than not having him at all.

“Only if you tell me what I’ve missed, too. Like all the cool celebrities you’ve met.”

“Not as cool as you, trouble.” Eddie taps your nose, smiling at the way you scrunch it in response.

“Shut up and start pushing the cart, Munson.”

He stands straight and salutes, “yes ma’am.”

You’re still smiling when you shake your head, “idiot.”

Eddie really does spend the rest of the day with you, pushing the cart while you re-shelf books, sitting in the extra chair behind the counter while you file returns, ducking when someone else walks in.

He asks you about Robin and Steve, Dustin and Lucas, how the kids are finding school, whether Nancy’s been hired at a big paper yet. He asks you about your family, and most of all, about you.

He hangs onto every word you say. And not once do you say anything to make him feel bad for being away, if anything, you can’t stop telling him how proud you are, especially when he talks to you about what’s in the works.

“I always told you you’d make it, Munson.”

“Wouldn’t have done it without you, trouble.”

The next morning, you’re sitting across from him in the corner booth by the window at Benny’s for breakfast. The same way you did every Friday in high school, at the same table.

Whenever you wind up at Benny’s when Eddie’s away, you tend to avoid that booth. It’s pathetic. Like his absence is clearer than ever sitting there when he isn’t. When he’s not putting whipped cream on your nose or stealing food off your plate.

Now, it’s his presence that surrounds you, his smile and his laugh, his foot nudging yours under the table.

The menu is sticky under your fingertips where you hold it, faded from sunlight and discolored from coffee spills that stain the page. You don’t really need to be looking at it—after years of coming here, you’ve probably got the thing memorized—but you need the time to collect yourself. To remember that this is Eddie, and there’s nothing to be nervous about.

You need the time to stuff down that flutter in your gut and in your chest.

On the other side of the booth, Eddie takes your distraction as a chance to really look at you. The details he can’t seem to picture when he’s away like the flecks in your eyes or the exact shade of your lips.

He never realizes just how much he misses you until he’s home. Until he’s sitting across from you and listening to the sound of your voice clearly instead of through a crackling phone’s speaker, until he gets to see the way your eyes light up slightly when you laugh.

It sort of hits him all at once, and he’s thinking, God, I should call more often. I should visit more often.

After a couple of minutes, you look back at Eddie, “you know what you want?”

“I’ve been getting the same thing since high school, trouble. Don’t need the menu.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll go order,” you say, placing your menu back in the holder by the window.

When you start sliding your way out of the booth, Eddie places a hand over yours on the table, “I can get it.”

You look down at your hands, his skin on yours, like you’d expected to see something there. A spark, a burn scorching your skin in the best way.

“I know you can,” you say, smiling at him. “But it’s my treat, okay? I want to get it.”

Eddie always feels sort of guilty when he’s not buying, because he has more than enough money to take care of it, more than he knows what to do with. Sometimes (often), people expect him to pay, even. And just like you’d known how he was feeling, you shut it down with a flash of your smile.

You shift to squeeze his hand before getting up and heading over to the counter, leaning on your elbows as you wait your turn.

Still, Eddie’s looking at you, his hand in the same spot on the table.

He knows that, despite it not being a busy morning at Benny’s, people are looking at him, whispering the way they did even in school. Only now, they’re saying they can’t believe it, look at him now, instead of calling him a freak. And just like in school, having you around makes the talk bearable. Hell, it makes it disappear, if only for a little while.

When the waiter finally comes over to take your order, you send him a kind smile, rattling off yours and Eddie’s orders.

Eddie watches the entire interaction. He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want to make eye contact with anyone else, that it’s because he’s just making sure you’re alright. It’s certainly not because of how pretty he thinks you look today, not because of how hard it is to keep his eyes off of you.

The waiter is a younger guy, probably around your age. Someone Eddie doesn’t know. He seems to tell you a joke because you laugh, bright and sunny, and Eddie suddenly wishes that Benny was the one taking orders.

Because he should be the one to make you laugh like that, to be on the receiving end of your grin and crinkled eyes. Because there’s this weight in his stomach that feels a little too much like jealousy. Because you’re his best friend and he fucking misses you.

Eddie looks down at his hands and twists his rings around and around until you come back, the old booth squeaking as you sit down.

“You okay?” You ask, always noticing his nervous habit of fiddling with his rings.

She’s my friend, he reminds himself. My best friend, that’s all.

“‘Course I am.”

“The guy at the counter, Dan, wanted me to tell you he’s a fan.”

He shakes his head, “I can't believe I have those. Especially in this town.”

“Excuse me? Your biggest fan is sitting right here, in this town, Munson.”

He probably thinks you’re joking with the way he chuckles, chest rumbling. But, you’re not. The shoebox full of clippings says enough, and you don’t think he’d ever let you live it down if he knew about it.

“She want an autograph?” He teases, the heaviness in his stomach melting away. Your biggest fan.

“In your chicken scratch? Yeah right.”

It’s not long before your food arrives, plates of waffles and fruit, sides of bacon and hashbrowns. Of course, you inevitably end up with whipped cream on your nose and food missing from your plate.

It’s your favorite kind of breakfast.

You’re sitting in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van—the same van he’s had since high school, that he refuses to replace—heading towards Steve’s place. It’s not unusual for either of you to be meeting up with the gang, but Eddie’s still nervous.

“Are you sure about this?” He asks you.

They don’t know he’s in town, and as sure as you are that they’ll be thrilled to see him, Eddie isn’t convinced. You place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze lightly as he drives.

“Everyone’s gonna be so happy to see you. Don’t you trust me?”

“‘Course I do,” he says easily, without thinking, “just haven’t seen anyone in a while, you know?”

“We all miss you, Eddie. It’ll be fun!”

Logically, he knows nobody’s gonna kick him out, or treat him any differently, but it doesn’t stop him from getting nervous. You wanted to surprise everyone, and how could he say no to you? So, here he is, gripping the steering wheel too tight and worrying too much.

Pulling into the driveway, he nods, “here we go.”

You hop out of the van before he has it shut off, but he catches up quickly. He follows you to the side gate of the house, watches you unlatch it and stroll into the yard. The sound of voices mingling hits his ears as you walk around the house and find your group of friends sitting around in lounge chairs.

“Look who I brought,” You announce.

Your shout is followed by eyes flicking towards you, then Eddie who stands beside you. Then, a chorus of his name, plus Argyle’s “rockstar!”

“Hey guys,” he says, waving shyly.

It’s odd to feel this way around these people that he’s known for years. Robin and Steve who’ve rented him way too many movies for free, Nancy and Johnathan who are probably why he graduated high school, and Argyle who was always his most loyal customer.

All of these memories and he feels a little too much like a stranger. At least he’s got you, who feels like one of the only sure things in his life. No matter how long goes by, you’re there, and he hopes you always will be.

“You want a drink?” Steve asks, leaning to reach into the cooler beside him.

“I’ll take one, thanks,” you say, catching the can Steve throws to you.

“I’m driving,” Eddie says, jingling his keys.

“Eddie Munson being responsible,” Robin teases, “they grow up so fast.”

And just like that, he feels a little better. These are his friends, and even though he’s not around all of the time, and even though he may not be as close to everyone anymore, they’ll still be his friends.

You sit down on the empty lounge chair and pat the space beside you for Eddie, sending him a smile that says both ‘told you so,’ in your snark he can practically hear, and ‘everything’s okay,’ in your kind way.

He plops down beside you.

“How’s everything going?” Johnathan asks him.

Not wanting all of the attention on him, Eddie keeps his answer short, “busy, but it’s a ton of fun.”

“Everything you ever dreamed of?” Robin adds.

“You could definitely say that.”

Though, Eddie has this strange feeling that he’s missing something whenever he’s gone. It’ll go away, but somehow, it always finds him again, when he’s debating on calling or not, when he’s hit with a memory of you in the front row at the Hideout when he’s on stage.

He looks over at you and finds you smiling softly at him, eyes fond. He can’t believe he’s the one you’re looking at like that.

Eddie blinks and turns back to the group, “how about you guys? How’re the jobs?”

The chatter picks up and surrounds him, but Eddie can’t stop thinking about the way you were looking at him just then. He’s never had someone look at him like that, like there’s nothing but affection there.

It’s platonic, he tells himself. She’s my best friend.

You feel happier now than you have in a while. Things feel more complete when Eddie’s around. Things feel right. It’s all of your favorite people with no empty chair, it’s falling back into a friendship that’s existed for years.

When conversations split off into smaller ones, you lean your head on his shoulder, and the words sort of slip out of you, “it’s really nice to have you here.”

His heart beats louder, he leans his head on top of yours, “it’s nice to be home.”

And it is. Eddie loves touring, he loves playing his music, and he loves his job, but at the end of the day, he’ll always be this boy from Hawkins, and he’ll always be happy to be home, to be with you.

Catching the moment, Argyle—always sharing his thoughts—says, “sick, you guys are finally together.”

You and Eddie both sit up, like you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t, even when you’ve sat like that countless times before.

Everyone’s eyes seem to be on the both of you now, and you have a tiny panic inside. Have you really been that obvious with how you feel? Does Eddie know and he hasn’t said anything because he doesn’t want to hurt you?

You laugh awkwardly, “what?”

“Like, dating,” Argyle explains.

“Me and Eddie?”

He’d been frozen for a second there, surprised that Argyle thought that. Was he seeing something Eddie couldn’t? No, no way.

“Just friends, guys,” Eddie says. “Come on.”

You swallow, forcing out a word, “exactly.”

“They’ve always been like this,” Nancy says, which explains enough but also sort of nothing at all.

Just friends. It’s something you know, you remind yourself constantly. It’s all it’ll ever be, and still, hearing Eddie say it out loud has your stomach feeling heavy. Just friends, get over it.

Even as conversation picks up again, as you laugh with everyone, the two words play in your head over and over. Then, after saying your goodbyes, once you’re in the van with Eddie again, it fades, because if you can’t be in love with him, you can be his best friend, and you’d much rather have that than nothing at all.

Once he drops you off, Eddie thinks and thinks about what Argyle had said. He goes over memories, over how he feels around you, and it hits him like a huge punch to the gut.

He thinks he has feelings for you. Big, huge feelings.

It’s the same day, a different sky, the sun sunk behind the horizon to give way to a sky full of stars and a bright moon.

Eddie’s van is parked by Lover’s Lake, the back full of blankets where you both sit, the doors open to look at the sky and the way the moonlight reflects on the water.

There’s practically an indent in the ground in the spot he’s parked, the one that’s been your go-to for ages. From day picnics to nighttime smoke sessions, it’s another place on the list of the ones that are filled with memories of Eddie.

Beside you, he’s got a joint in hand, the flick of his lighter catching your ears over the crickets and the breeze. You watch him inhale, his chest expanding, the smoke slipping from his lips. You turn back to the water.

“Your turn,” he says, handing you the joint.

You grab it between your fingertips and bring it to your mouth, feeling the smoke trail down your throat, further, then you’re breathing it out, clearing your throat at the tickle.

“Out of practice?” Eddie teases at your small cough.

“My favorite weed dealer went out of business,” you say, nudging his shoulder with yours, “so, yeah.”

He takes the joint back from you, “you don’t smoke when I’m not around? You know Argyle’s gotta have some stock.”

“Oh, he definitely does. A little too exotic for my taste. Besides, he won’t give it to me for free.”

“Getting cheap, trouble?”

You shrug, shoulder to your cheek, and give him an innocent smile.

It feels easy, the joint being passed back and forth between sentences until it’s done and stubbed out, the flow of conversation, the comfort that’s there. It’s always been easy with him, even when it hurts a little.

Eddie’s got on his worn denim vest, still full of pins, and you tug at it, “think this thing has a permanent weed smell by now.”

“I think that’s just part of my natural scent,” he replies, playfully flipping his hair over his shoulder.

His curls graze your cheek—that’s how close you’re sitting, thighs touching—and you giggle. You’ve had so many nights just like this one with Eddie, and it feels like some kind of reward that you get to have them still, even when they’re far less regular now.

“Doesn’t this make you think of high school?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Eddie’s hand is on his knee, his pinky twitches, reaching for your leg, “hell, I’m even wearing the same clothes as in high school.”

“How does it feel like yesterday and also a lifetime ago?”

Eddie looks over at you, the warm glow of moonlight and stars on your skin, the way your sweater hangs off your shoulder, the shine in your eyes that’s part weed and part nostalgia.

“A lot’s changed since then,” he says. “I’m not a loser anymore.”

“You’re still my loser.”

How is it that even when you’re calling him a loser, the idea of being yours in any sense of the word is enough to have Eddie’s heart swell in his chest, a balloon floating up and up and he has to swallow to push it back down.

“Stop being cheesy,” he plays it off, ruffling your hair.

You shove his arm away, “I just miss you!”

Eddie looks at his arm, your hand still holding onto it, he follows your arm with his gaze until it lands on your face. He thinks you’re beautiful, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen and no groupie could change that.

“I miss you, too, trouble.”

Something shifts, the air growing thicker, a sort of understanding between the two of you. There’s something here, something that could be a disaster but could also be so, so good. Could be everything.

“No way you think about me when you’ve got crowds and fans and-“

“I think about you a lot, honey.”

Honey. He’s probably called you that before, but never like this. Never dripping sweet and sincere, never looking at you like he wants to do something you can’t even let yourself imagine in fear of being let down, of hoping too much.

Eddie’s hand shifts from his own leg to yours, thumb running back and forth, burning you even through the fabric of your pants.

“You do?”

“All the time. You’re my best friend.”

Right. Friend.

“You’re mine, too, Eddie.”

And suddenly you can feel his breath fan across your cheek, your lips. His face is close to yours and the hair that falls over his forehead tickles yours. Just a second ago he’d been saying the word ‘friend,’ and now it feels like he’s going to do something to contradict that.

Against all odds, he does.

Eddie couldn’t help himself. Maybe he’ll blame the weed, or maybe he won’t, but before he knows it he’s reaching up with the hand that isn’t on his leg to cup your cheek and tilt your head. And he’s kissing you.

He’s kissing you.

It’s so delicate, so much you’re afraid to even breathe, like it’ll break in an instant. Eddie’s fingers squeeze your leg, urge you to kiss him back and there’s no way that you wouldn’t. Not when his lips are actually on yours, not when he tastes like weed and mint gum and something perfect.

It could be seconds or minutes that you’re kissing, tilting your head even more to feel him, clutching his sleeve tightly. It never deepens, but it doesn’t have to, it says enough.

When you pull away, it’s not one or the other who does it, it’s natural, like it’s been rehearsed time and time again. Eddie leans his forehead against yours, his hand still on your cheek.

“Was that a bad idea?” He asks you, voice low and quiet.

“Maybe. I don’t know.” And you don’t, because there’s no way of knowing what’s gonna happen next, if things will be ruined, if this will fade away like it never happened, or, maybe, just maybe, if it’ll start something.

“Was it okay?”

“More than okay.”

You don’t talk about it that night, and you don’t want to just yet. You’re fine with enjoying the pink-tinted haze at least until tomorrow.

Eddie’s barely been gone for two days and you’re not sure what to do with yourself. After that night, neither of you brought it up, and as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t. You were scared. And anyway, it was probably just the weed for him.

You’d never kissed before. Sure, you’ve come close, faces inches apart when you’d share a bed, whispers away, but nothing ever happened. Until now.

Now, sitting on your bed, chin resting on your knees, you’re reeling from knowing what Eddie’s lips feel like and missing him all over again. Rebuilding that piece in your chest.

Somewhere else in the country, in the world, Eddie’s position isn’t so different from yours. He’s sitting on the edge of his hotel bed, forearms on his knees, head bent. He wants to call you, and he’s figuring out what he’ll say when he does.

He misses you every time he isn’t home, but it’s never felt like this. There’s never been this ache in his stomach that won’t go away because of it. Fuck, he misses you more than ever.

The last trip back to Hawkins was different than anything else, because he brought back these feelings with him and he keeps reaching up to press his fingertips to his lips, like the memory of your own lingers there.

Sure, he’s had silly, sticky thoughts like waking up with his arms around you after a nap and thinking he could wake up that way forever, but he’s always pushed them down. Now, it seems, he can’t, the images too buoyant to ignore, floating back up every time.

Sucking in a deep breath, he sits up and reaches for the phone, dialing your number that’s stored in his memory. His leg bounces as the phone rings.

You’re startled by the screech of your phone on your bedside table, head lifting to look at it shake on the receiver. You reach over and pick it up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, trouble. It’s not a bad time, is it?”

Eddie. His voice crackling through the phone sends a spike down your spine. You clutch the phone a little tighter.

You’d expected Robin, or Nancy, even Steve. Because there’d been a time, earlier in Corroded Coffin’s career, when Eddie would call you at least three times a week, and then the calls grew less frequent until they sort of died out to holidays and birthdays.

So, maybe a couple of years ago, you’d have expected Eddie’s voice, but not today.

“Eddie, hi. Not at all.”

“I- um, I just wanted to call,” a small pause, he clears his throat, “how are you?”

“It’s only been two days, you know how I am.”

“I mean right now.”

You twist to lay on your side, legs curling in towards your chest. You smile to yourself like an idiot. “Right now, I’m good. It’s lame, I already miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

The reply comes easily to him. There’s no thought to it, because in the past 48 hours, he hasn’t been able to stop missing you for a second. The warmth of your hand in his, the sunshine sound of your laughter.

He’s not sure why everything’s so big now, his feelings amplified, only quieted now, by the sound of your voice.

“Did you have a show today?”

You have a way of asking that makes it sound like you really care, Eddie thinks. He loves his music and he knows you know that. It means the world to him to do what he does, confusing feelings or not.

“Not today. We spent the day on the bus. Show’s tomorrow.”

“Nervous or excited?”

It’s something that you used to ask him before every small show in Hawkins, and the memory has a grin spreading on Eddie’s face. “It’s always both. More excited, though.”

“You should be,” you say. “You guys are really great.”

“Yeah? Who’s your favorite band member?”

He’s fishing, and you tease him rather than bite, “hmmm. Gareth.”

“Fuckin’ trouble. You liar.”

“You asked!”

“You answered the question wrong, honey.”

There it is again. Honey. You’re sort of glad he can’t see you right now because you probably look way too happy, burying your face in your pillow for a second before replying.

“You know you’re my favorite, Munson.”

“Yeah I am,” he sounds far too proud. And then, he’s softer, “I’m not keeping you up, am I? Time zones fuck me up.”

“No, no.” Even if he was, you wouldn’t tell him. This is better than trying and failing to sleep the way you so often do. “It’s not that late. What time is it for you?”

“Not that late,” he says, even though the clock on the nightstand reads 1:14AM. “So, what’s happening in Hawkins right now?”

“Mmm, it’s getting warmer. My window’s open and the crickets are loud as fuck.” You twist the phone cord around your fingers, “it’s donation week at the library, so I’ve been shelving new books for a change.”

Eddie listens to every word you say, asks you questions like if you’d kept any books for yourself (you had, but swore you’d give them to the library when you were done) and hums between your sentences.

Somewhere along the way, he’d laid down while listening to you, eyes shut as he tried to picture what you might look like right at this second. If you’re in your pajamas or not, whether your hair would be a little messy, baby hairs a halo around your face.

Then his eyes grew heavier, your voice putting him at ease even with the sounds of his bandmates laughing from somewhere in the hotel.

“Eddie?” You ask after he’d been silent for a bit.

“Hm?” He hums sleepily.

“I lost you for a second there.”

If he wasn’t half asleep, he’d feel worse. “Sorry, getting sleepy.”

“You wanna hang up?”

“No, uh- keep talking to me? You have a nice voice.”

You smile, cheeks pinching with the size of it.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll keep talking.”

And you do, you keep talking and talking until you can hear the sound of Eddie’s tiny snores on the other side of the line. You’re smiling again at that.

Even after you’re sure he’s asleep, you don’t hang up right away, not until your own eyes are growing heavy. You put the phone back quietly, like you’ll wake him if you’re not careful. You whisper a soft ‘goodnight, Eddie,’ as you do.

There’s a small stiffness in your fingers from how tightly you’d been holding the phone, and still, you’d let your hand cramp for hours to talk to him.

The next morning, Eddie wakes up with the pattern of the phone pressed to his cheek where he’d left it last night.

The TV sends flashes of color flickering across your living room and over your face. Usually, you’d be in bed by now, but it’s the night of the MTV awards and Corroded Coffin is nominated. You couldn’t miss it.

You’re not really paying attention to most of it, the sounds of performances and hosts and thank-you speeches filling your ears as you read your latest book. At least, you’re not paying attention until Eddie’s category is announced.

That has you shutting your book and sitting up, grabbing the remote to turn the volume higher.

They show the nominees, give far too long of an introduction before tearing open the envelope holding the winner’s names. You don’t know it, but you’re practically white knuckling the blanket on your lap.

“And the MTV award goes to… Corroded Coffin!”

You stand and place a hand on your chest, feeling your heart beating—racing—for the band, for Eddie. This is huge, it’s a dream, and it’s his. If you could, you’d give him a suffocating hug right now.

Eddie’s voice taking over, thanking his fans and Wayne, the boys and their team, then, thanking Hawkins and the people there, even when they gave him hell.

If you knew the right number to call to talk to him, you’d dial it in an instant.

Lucky for you, your phone rings the next night, late enough that you can only assume it’s Eddie given you don’t know anyone else who’s probably in a different time zone right now. You pick up quickly, fumbling with the phone a little before bringing it up to your ear.

“Eddie?”

“How’d you know it was me?”

“Ummm, my amazing intuition? Telepathy?”

“Telepathy, she says.” There’s a soft chuckle on his end, you close your eyes and lean your head back to thump against the wall behind you. “How’re things, trouble?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that, mister MTV winner.”

Eddie’s been calling more often again, whenever he gets the chance, really. Even so, he never thought you’d be keeping up with him that way, that you’d care enough to watch an award show and remember what he’d achieved.

“You were watching?” He asks, heart thudding.

“Of course I was. I’m your biggest fan, remember?” You’re sitting with your back against your headboard, knees bent, hand absentmindedly pulling at a loose thread in your pajama pants. “I’ve got cheerleader pom-poms and everything.”

“You do not.”

“Do too. They’re super metal, all black.”

“Yeah, cause pom-poms are super metal, babe.”

Another pet name in the rotation, uttered like it’s easy, natural. You bite back a smile.

“Whatever. Mine would be,” you say. “I’m glad you called.”

“Me, too.”

“I wanted to call you yesterday,” you admit, twisting that loose thread in your fingers, “after I saw you won. I’m really proud of you, Eddie.”

They’re words he hadn’t been expecting, but ones he’ll be thinking about over and over. He wants to keep making you proud, he thinks, and he’ll pour that into everything he does whether he means to or not.

“Thank you,” his voice is quieter, almost shy. “I wouldn’t be here without you, you know?”

“You would. You’re talented, and there’s no way that could stay hidden in this town, you’re bigger than it.”

Somehow, it’s easier to be so open with him on the phone. You don’t have to look at him, get distracted by his tongue running over his lips or the way his bangs get caught in his eyelashes sometimes. This way, all you have to do is speak, nothing more.

“Trouble-” he can’t even find the words to say, because there’s affection laced in your tone, seeping through the phone and into his head and, fuck, he wants to kiss you for it and he can’t. “I really miss you.”

“I miss you, too.” There’s some silence, and the overthinker in you worries that you’ve said too much even though you meant it with every part of you, that you’ve given yourself away. “Anyways, I should go, let you celebrate your win.”

It’s what he would be doing if Eddie’s thoughts hadn’t been so full of you and your mouth and your voice. It’s what his bandmates and friends are surely doing in some club around here.

“You don’t need to. I’m not doing anything.”

“No?” You try to lighten your tone, to joke the way you usually do, “don’t have groupies knocking on your hotel room door right now?”

Instead of playing along, Eddie’s voice is serious, still soft in the way he speaks to you, but serious nonetheless, “I don’t entertain them, honey.”

“You don’t?”

He’s tried. But ever since you kissed him, probably since before that, too, Eddie can’t seem to look at anyone else, let alone have someone else kiss him and tarnish the memory of your lips on his. He’s only ever thinking of you, it seems. So no, he hasn’t fooled around lately.

“Not in a while. I’m trying to write for the next album. No distractions.”

No distractions. He says it like that’s true, even though he can’t seem to fully focus, like there’s a piece he’s missing. Like every lyric he’s written since he’s been back isn’t somehow about you.

He’s so, so fucked.

“Look at you, Munson. Squeaky clean.”

You hope he can’t tell that you’re sort of a mess, a stupid blossom of hope planting itself where it shouldn’t. He’s your friend, he’s always been just your friend. But you kissed and it felt like something changed, and you can’t seem to let go of that.

“You sound surprised,” he teases, gathering his wits the best he can.

“Can you blame me? You used to have multiple lunchboxes reserved for your weed.”

“You loved those lunchboxes and you know it.”

“Yeah, I did.”

And then, like that moment was simply a blip, easily brushed over, your conversation turns back to your normal. Jokes with underlying affections, teasing while picturing what kind of smile the other wears when you laugh lightly into the phone.

Time runs away from you, and by the time you hang up it’s well into the early hours of the morning, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

After hanging up, Eddie’s got this sinking, aching pull in his stomach. He knows what it is, has had bouts of it before where he misses Wayne’s hand patting his back or the way his mattress is worn-in just the right amount back at the trailer, when he thinks about what his friends might be doing or what science project Dustin’s got going on.

But it’s never felt this heavy. Eddie’s the most homesick he’s ever been.

He’d listen to your voice forever, but in that moment, he’d give anything to see your face, to see the shake of your shoulders when you laugh, the curve of your smile.

What the hell is wrong with him?

Eddie wipes his palms on his thighs before standing and walking out into the living room of his band’s suite hotel room. The guys are still up, and they’re all staring at him like weirdos.

“What?” He pauses in the doorway.

“Did you tell her you’re in love with her yet, or what?” Jeff, the electric guitarist, asks him.

“What?” Eddie says again because there’s no way he heard that right. He’d only just come to terms that he had feelings. This is much bigger.

“You’re joking,” Gareth pipes in, “you don’t even know it? Dude, you’re all ‘I miss you, trouble, you’re my favorite person ever.’” He does a knowingly terrible impression of Eddie.

“I do not sound like that.”

“You kinda do,” Jeff says.

“Why else would you be spending hours in that room on the phone, man? Come on,” Gareth sing songs the next bit: “you’re in loooove.”

Then Eddie thinks and thinks and thinks. The warmth that blooms when he hugs you, the jealousy he felt when he thought that server at Benny’s was flirting with you, the difficulty to say goodbye, the way your kiss haunts him in his sleep.

These idiots aren’t usually right about things, but just this once, maybe they are. Eddie Munson is probably, very likely, definitely in love with you.

Yeah, he’s so fucked.

♫♩♪♬

thank you so so much for reading!!! if you enjoyed please please please consider reblogging and letting me know what you think! it helps and means so much <333 i have plans for a part two, and if you’d like to see it, some support would help a bunch! ily!

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scuderiahoney · 9 days

Text

Oscar Piastri x Reader // In Motion Pt. 5

Summary: one plane ride, a little sunburn, and far too many margaritas to count. 6.0k words

Warnings: alcohol, mention of previous sports injury

It’s a lazy Saturday morning. You’d showed up at the house an hour ago and planted yourself on the couch. Charles had been in the overstuffed armchair, and he’d barely batted an eye when you walked in, too engrossed in his TV show. Lando and Max had wandered downstairs eventually, and piled onto the couch with you. One by one, everyone else wakes up and comes downstairs. They have practice in a couple hours, but none of them are in a rush. Instead, they all choose to scatter around the living room. Charles turns on Planet Earth. Everyone’s engrossed by it.

“Hey, my aunt wants to know if we still want the house for spring break,” George says, looking up from his phone as a school of fish swims by on the TV screen.

Lando, whose head was previously buried under a pillow, sits up. “Obviously.”

“The house?” Oscar asks, and when everyone turns to look at him, he deflates. “Sorry, none of my business.”

George’s phone rings, and he answers and wanders off into the kitchen, chattering away. You’re perked up now, blinking around the room. There are smiles on everyone’s faces, now, at the mention of spring break. You’re all in desperate need of some time off.

Max turns to look at Oscar, arms raised above his head in a stretch. “Piastri. D’you have any plans for the break?”

“Not really?” He says, shrugging.

Max nods. “Cool. You do now.”

Max flops back over onto the couch, and so does Lando, effectively burying you once again.

Oscar turns to look at you, brows furrowed. “What did I just sign up for?”

You sit up from underneath Lando and Max, who groan loudly. “George’s aunt has a really nice beach house. We go there for spring break.”

Oscar raises his eyebrows. “Oh. You know, I didn’t mean to invite myself, and you guys-“

“Shut up,” Lando says, face half buried in the arm of the couch. “You’re going. It’s tradition.”

…..

The only thing worse than navigating an airport is doing it early in the morning with 6 hockey players in tow. You’d think they’d be good at travel with all the away games, but they’re not used to having to get themselves places. Lando almost leaves his luggage at the house, Max almost forgets his whole wallet, and you’re sure Alex would’ve been left behind completely if it wasn’t for Lily. Oscar’s the only self sufficient one, likely because he’s been living on his own for so long now. You think of him having to travel to games with his old team, wonder if he wandered around airports alone, and your chest aches. But he’s next to you, smiling brightly, suitcase in hand and clad in a hoodie and sweatpants. Lando’s ordering a beer from the bar. It’s 6am.

Max tries to usher the whole group towards the gate, like he hasn’t been the most scatterbrained person all morning. You let him feel like he’s in charge. It helps his ego. It’s not long before people get distracted- George wants a bagel, Charles wants to look at souvenirs, which is ridiculous considering you haven’t left yet, and Lily wants coffee. Max looks panicked as everyone starts to wander.

You clear your throat. “Okay. Lily, George, and I are going to that coffee shop,” you say, pointing at the one nearest your gate, “to get breakfast and coffee. Charles and Max will go in the shop. The rest of you can join whichever group, or you can wait at the gate. We’ll all be back here in 20 minutes.”

Max looks relieved, even as Charles drags him towards a stand full of license plate magnets with names on them. You head for the coffee shop, and find Oscar’s opted to join, too. Lando and Alex stay at the gate, guarding all the suitcases.

An hour later, you’re all seated on the plane, much to your and Max’s relief. George booked the flights for everyone so he could use his parents’ airline miles, and so you have no idea where you’re sitting until you actually get on the plane. You slip into your window seat, and Oscar stops at your row with a smile. He’s in the middle. George is on his other side. Up ahead, you see Lily, Alex, and Charles, and Max and Lando in front of them. You pity whoever the stranger is that will have to put up with Max and Lando in their row. Oscar helps put your carry on up above, and everyone settles in for the flight.

After takeoff, you push the window shade up. The sun is just barely starting to rise, and you’re already exhausted. Oscar leans close to peer out the window. He hums softly, pointing down below.

“You can see the house from here,” he points out, and you laugh.

He’s right. You can. The house, the ice rink, the soccer fields, they all disappear below. You wave goodbye, and Oscar laughs and does the same. Then you lean over and fall asleep, head resting on his shoulder. He doesn’t seem to mind.

…..

The eight of you descend on the beach house in a flurry of activity. It’s bright and sunny out, and you all wear sunglasses as you haul the luggage into the house. George points everyone to their rooms- you’re glad to learn you have the same one for the third year in a row, up on the second floor, with a nice view of the ocean and a room to yourself. Lando and Oscar are sharing, as are Max and Charles. Lily and Alex get a room, and George gets his own room. Charles offers to take your luggage upstairs for you, and you accept happily.

By the time everyone returns downstairs, you’ve made a grocery list. Max looks at it over your shoulder and nods in approval. There’s a little store within walking distance that should have everything you need. When Max suggests you all go to help carry bags, Lando groans loudly, already complaining about a headache or a sore back or whatever ailment will get him out of it. In the end, it’s you, Max, Charles, and Oscar who head off to the grocery store.

When you get back, you unload things in the kitchen, the four of you moving around each other with ease. Oscar drops the juice and you giggle, Charles hugs the bag of cheese puffs to his chest like a little kid, and Max starts pulling ingredients to make a late lunch.

“M’hungry,” Lando calls out.

“Thought you had a headache,” you call back, smirking as he walks into the kitchen.

“Back ache,” he corrects, smiling sheepishly. “Come on, you know plane seats suck.”

You roll your eyes at him, but you hand him the bottle of painkillers you picked up at the store. He gives you an easy side hug in thanks. Lando offers to help Max make lunch, and you retreat to the back deck for the first time this trip. You breathe in deep as the sun hits your skin, as the sound of the ocean fills your ears. It feels like the whole world is in front of you, stretching on and on.

Oscar walks out behind you, doing basically the same. “Wow.”

Alex and Lily are down near the water, and when he spots the two of you, he waves you over. “Low tide!” He calls out, grinning widely. “There’s starfish!”

You turn to Oscar with a grin, and then the two of you run down the shore to meet them. The stress of the school year starts to slip off your shoulders. For now, it’s just sun and sand and nothing else.

…..

Spring break, as it always does and definitely should, tastes like pineapple and coconut rum and frozen margaritas made in the ancient blender that somehow still works. It smells like sunscreen, the reef safe kind that Oscar insists everyone uses. It feels like sand stuck between your toes, like the crash of the waves against your legs, like the heat of the sun on your skin.

“Why couldn’t you guys be, like, professional surfers?” You ask, face half pressed into the giant beach towel you’re laying on. “This is where I’m supposed to spend all my time, not in an ice box.”

Max laughs and tosses a foam football at you. “You chose the school, too, you know. And you love watching hockey.”

“Max would be shit at surfing,” Charles pipes up, and though his eyes are hidden behind sunglasses you can tell they’re crinkled with amusement. “He is not very good at balance. Like Bambi.”

Max scoffs, picks up the ball he’d thrown at you, and chucks it at Charles’ head. Charles dodges it with a squeak and runs after it in the sand. Max follows, likely afraid of the retaliation that’s coming his way.

“Osc, you’re from Australia,” you say. “Have you surfed?”

Oscar’s laid out next to you, in the shaded portion of the blanket thanks to the umbrella George put up. He burns easily, apparently. You’d told him that you weren’t surprised, based solely on the pale tone of his skin, and he’d glared at you unhappily and then chased you into the waves. Now he lays there, face smashed against the blanket, same as you. It’s mid afternoon. He’s usually a bit sleepy in the afternoons, you’ve found.

He nods, prying one eye open. “Not any good, though.”

You scoff out a laugh. He grins back at you. There’s sand stuck in his eyebrow, and you’re about to reach out and brush it away when a shadow falls over you. You look up and find George standing there. Lily, Lando and Alex are following him up the beach.

“Margarita time?” George asks, grinning happily. You push yourself halfway up, propping up on your elbows, and nod your head. “It’s always margarita time, Georgie.”

Dinner that night is grilled shrimp and veggies and bread warmed up in the oven that all the boys eat too much of, promising not to tell their coaches. Someone asks Oscar to say “throw another shrimp on the Barbie,” which then devolves into bad attempts at Australian accents, which then further devolves into bad attempts at everyone’s accents. You’re left laughing so hard your stomach hurts, the sun setting, the warm ocean air washing over your arms on the back deck.

Oscar’s sitting next to you, and he wipes your tears of laughter away with a napkin and says, “You alright, love?” in what can only be a bad attempt at Lando’s accent.

You snort with laughter. The noise sends Oscar into a fit of giggles, too, and soon the two of you are bent over in your chairs, heads bumping into each others, as Lando tries to insist he doesn’t sound like that and Max assures him that he definitely does. When you finally catch your breath and sit up, they’re moving on to mocking Sebastian’s accent, because they always start making fun of their coach eventually. Lily’s watching you, though, a knowing look in her eyes.

You sit on the beach blanket next to the water after dinner, another margarita in your hand. There’s far too much salt on the rim- courtesy of Alex, who’d coated nearly the whole cup in it- which makes it taste a bit like the ocean. Oscar’s sitting next to you, a cup of his own in his hand. The sun is low in the sky, the horizon turning the lightest shade of purple as it turns to night. Oscar’s bare thigh brushes against yours, and you hold your breath.

The back door to the house slides open, and you turn to look. It’s Charles. “We are going to the store,” he calls out. “Are you coming?”

You wrinkle your nose. “None of you are driving, right?”

Charles shakes his head. “We will walk. We want snacks, and we are out of tequila.”

You nod. “I’ll stay here!”

“Me too,” Oscar adds.

“Okay, I am trusting you two,” Charles teases. “Don’t burn the house down.”

Charles calls out something unintelligible and probably not in English. Inside, you hear Max yell for him, also not in English. The door shuts. Oscar sucks in a sharp breath. There’s tequila in your bloodstream and salt on your lips and the heat of his leg next to yours. You close your eyes, the sea breeze dancing over your skin, and you can still feel his lips on your cheek after that game, weeks ago now. You sit for a while, basking in it.

A few minutes later, present day Oscar’s shoulder bumps against yours. You open your eyes and turn to look at him. His cheeks are rosy pink. You wonder if he’d put enough sunscreen on.

“This is really nice,” he says, softly.

The sand is turning cold beneath your feet. You shiver slightly. He leans into you, warm arm pressed to yours, thigh pressing tighter against your skin. Your heart stutters in your chest.

“Mhm,” you agree, blinking softly at him and biting your lower lip, just to watch and see the way his eyes dart across your face. “George’s aunt is a sweetheart for letting us stay here.”

Oscar hums in agreement, but he shakes his head, hair flopping over his forehead in a soft swoop. “I meant… this.”

He nudges his leg against yours. Your stomach lurches in the best kind of way. He’s leaning back on the heels of his hands and staring at you while the waves crash onto the shore. His thumb brushes against the back of your hand, tiny grains of sand rolling between his skin and yours. You feel the electricity simmer up your arm and zap down your spine.

“Oh. Yeah,” you say, nodding in agreement. “It is.”

You’re not sure whether to laugh or cry or scream. He’s so close you swear you can feel his heartbeat, or maybe it’s just yours, pounding in your chest, going wild over the way he’s staring at you. He lifts his hand from the sand, the one farthest from you, keeps his other arm pressed to yours as he turns just slightly. When his hand comes up to cup your cheek, it feels so familiar. You remember blue paint on his thumb, brushed off on his pants, the poster leaning against the wall and his lips on your cheek. You want it again. You want more. You swear he leans in.

There’s a loud noise from inside the house, and he drops his hand into his lap. Your heart twists in your chest. You can feel the ghost of his fingertips on your skin when the back door opens. George yells something about playing flip cup. You don’t want to play flip cup- you want to stay here with Oscar and let him kiss you like you thought he was going to. But his hand is in his lap now, and he smiles sheepishly and starts to stand up, and you wonder if you imagined all of it.

…..

Two nights later, when everyone has gone to bed, you find yourself still wide awake. You’re buzzing, probably from the afternoon coffee you grabbed with Charles and Oscar at the cafe down the street. Max had said it was a bad idea. Charles is dead asleep upstairs, because caffeine has never really affected him. You’re busy thinking about two nights ago, Oscar’s hand on your face and the way he looked at you. You know it happened. You swear it happened. He’d been about to kiss you. Right? Maybe you're imagining things. Maybe it’s all in your head.

You’re sitting on the couch near the window, the glass of water Max poured you before he went to bed sitting half empty in your hand. You nearly spill it when someone clears their throat. You know without turning to look that it’s Oscar.

You stare out the window at the ocean. “Might go take a walk down by the water,” you suggest, just to see if he takes the bait.

Oscar hums. “I’d better go with. For safety, you know.”

You nod in agreement, not really seeing the need to protest. It’s a silly excuse, but you want him to come with. The two of you head for the doors, slipping in sandals along the way. The night air is cool, and you shiver slightly as you make your way down the beach. The sand is still sun warmed but cooling fast. The crash of the waves against the shore makes you sigh softly.

Oscar’s only a few steps behind you. The moon isn’t out yet, but you catch sight of a few stars in the sky. You stop at the spot where the waves meet the sand, and he walks up next to you. When you turn to look over your shoulder, all the lights in the house are off except the living room light the two of you left on. Oscar looks, too, and then steps closer. You feel like you should hold your breath, but you don’t. The air smells like salt. You wonder if the smell has seeped into Oscar’s hair and skin, or if he still smells like his shampoo and body wash. You hate that you know the scents of both.

“I love the ocean,” Oscar says, not for the first time that day.

You nod. “Me too.”

His fingers brush against yours where your hands hang at your sides. It sends a zap all the way up your arm, straight to your spine. Does he feel it too? That giddy feeling in your chest? The anxious feeling in the back of your brain? The want, deep in your gut, that makes you want to turn and press your lips to his. Does he feel it, too? You’d take a kiss on the forehead. Or another kiss on the cheek. Or just- if he would just move his hand a couple inches, just intertwine your fingers with his-

Like he’s read your mind, he does. He twists his fingers between yours loosely. You nearly choke on your own breath. Get it together. Your heart aches. You need, you want, does he?

“I…” he starts, then stops.

You turn. He’s already looking at you, face half lit up by the light on the back deck of the house. His lips look soft. They were, the one time you’ve felt them, pressed to your cheek in that hallway. His fingers fidget in yours, but he doesn’t pull away. You don’t either. The waves crash onto the shore over and over again. The sleeve of his hoodie brushes against your jaw when he cups the side of your face in his other hand. This time, you’re sure of it. You know what’s coming. He leans in, and you close your eyes.

If a kiss on the cheek sent butterflies wild in your stomach, this sends them through your whole body. Every nerve is on fire when his lips meet yours. Maybe it’s just because you’ve been waiting for so long. He’s warm against you, and his hand leaves your wrist to wrap around your waist and pull you close, and he tastes like rum and salt and smells like sunscreen. You tilt your head and let him deepen the kiss, let him take the lead, let him in. He’s smiling into it, and it makes your heart ache. When you tangle your hands in his hair, you can feel the sand stuck there, can feel the salt that still coats the strands from his swim earlier in the day. His hand slips to the back of your neck to hold you closer, and you melt for him, for the way he holds you so carefully and so surely, the warmth of him burning up your skin. He giggles into the kiss, light and airy and so Oscar it almost hurts, and you can’t help but match it.

He kisses you for what feels like forever. You can’t find it in you to complain.

…..

The rest of spring break tastes like coconut rum and tequila and Oscar. It feels like sun and sand and his hand wrapped up in yours, sneaking away at any chance you get. It smells like sunscreen and his cologne on the hoodie you stole from him, and it sounds like seagulls and his laughter, and the words he whispers into your ears when nobody’s nearby.

He steals you away while you’re in town, wandering the shops with everyone. He’s good at melting away into a crowd- and it is crowded, it’s spring break and everyone’s had the same idea as you. You hide in a souvenir store while you watch your friends disappear, and you don’t even feel guilty about it. You can’t, not when Oscar’s tangling his fingers with yours and pointing at a little beaded bracelet he says would look good on you. When he takes it up to the counter and buys it, and then loops it around your wrist for you, you feel absolutely giddy. You feel it even more when he kisses your temple sweetly. You rejoin the group a while later, just as they’re starting to worry. Nobody notices the bracelet, but you run your fingers over the beads all day.

Later in the week, he suggests a trip to the ice cream shop when everyone’s half asleep, mid afternoon. You’re tired, too, but when he says it, you suddenly feel wide awake. Once the two of your are out of sight of the house, he pulls you under his arm, hand squeezing at your shoulder the whole walk there. He buys you ice cream and shares his with you, too, and when he stops to kiss you on the walk back he tastes sweeter than ever.

There’s a lot of that- kissing. Anytime the two of you are alone. It’s overwhelming in the best way. Like the two of you have been holding back for so long that you can’t quite find it in you to stop. You sneak out of your rooms after everyone has gone to bed and meet on the beach at night, just the sea and the stars bearing witness as it all falls into place. You point out constellations, and Oscar tells you about the night sky in Australia, and how it feels different here. He finds you seashells admiring the way and gives them to you at night, and you start doing the same, each of you building up collections. They cover the empty space on the nightstand in your room.

One afternoon, you walk to the park nearby, all together, with a little picnic. It’s sweet- Max and Lando throw a football back and forth, and you sit in the grass and have cheese and crackers and fruit and watch people pass by. Eventually, George, Alex, and Lily head back to start dinner, and then Max, Lando, and Charles leave to pick up drinks on the way home. You and Oscar linger, though. They make it so easy to sneak away, really. You take the chance to lay on the blanket with him, your bed on his stomach, staring up at puffy white clouds in the big blue sky. His hand draws patterns on your shoulders.

When you finally head for the house, you walk past a set of soccer goals on a patch of grass. It’s easier, now, especially because it’s not the field where you got hurt. Oscar squeezes your hand anyways. It’s sweet. Something makes you slow to a stop. There’s a ball sitting there, in the middle of the field, black and white in stark contrast to the green. You drop his hand, and he makes a mild sound of protest. You walk over to the ball and toe at it gingerly, feeling the way it rolls under your foot.

He just eyes you carefully,

“We’ll take it easy,” you promise, and he nods. “I just…”

You can’t explain it. For years, you’ve never wanted to go near a soccer field or goal or ball. For years, this idea has brought tears to your eyes. But right now, you want to try. Oscar takes a step closer. He’s smiling.

You kick the ball at his feet. He passes it lightly back to you. The two of you exchange a look and take off down the grass together. You zig zag to every corner of the grass, not trying to get anywhere in any sort of hurry. You build up speed as you get closer and close to the goal, passing the ball back and forth with him. It feels good, to move your body and feel the grass beneath your feet. To feel the ball bounce off your shoe, to watch him accept the pass that you’ve placed so perfectly. You’re rusty, stiff, out of practice, but a little part of this still feels like home. There’s an achy feeling in your body that starts to melt away.

You don’t even realize what you’re doing, at first. He passes you the ball, and you’re in range of the net, and- you dart around him, eyes on the prize, now. He laughs, tries to go after you, catching on nearly immediately. But you’re too good at this, too fast- he’s used to blades on his feet and ice beneath him, not tennis shoes and grass and a ball rolling in front of you. You look up, find the goal, see your spot, and kick.

It sails through the air, hits the net, and falls to the ground. Goal. Behind you, Oscar cheers loud enough that when you close your eyes, you can imagine it’s all still there. That you’re really playing soccer, in front of a crowd again, scoring a goal, taking your team to a victory. You soak it in, for just a moment.

When you open your eyes, you’re on your back, staring at the sky, Oscar’s face looking down at you. His brows are furrowed.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” He asks.

You shake your head. You know the tears in your eyes must contradict that. Oscar shifts on his feet for a second and then collapses to the ground next to you, legs kicked out away from yours, his head right next to your shoulder. The two of you form a little v on the grass, staring up at the sky.

“I didn’t realize how much I missed that,” you admit. “The… running, and the chasing, and the… scoring.”

His hand brushes against yours, then comes down to lay flat atop the back of it. His palm is warm and soft. You try to breathe normally. It’s easier said than done.

“You could always try again,” he says, quietly. “Do a club sport, or a league of some sort…”

You shake your head. “Nah, my knee is already starting to hurt.”

You rub your fingers against the ache. He sighs, heavily, and squeezes your hand. You turn your head to look at him. He’s close, closer than you realized. It wouldn’t take much for you to lean in, and nobody else is here, so you do. Just a short kiss, because you’re laying on a soccer field and there are kids and families nearby. But you want him to know how much this means to you. When you pull away, his cheeks are pink, and you think he understands.

Eventually, you know everyone will start to wonder where the two of you are. So when Oscar stands up and offers you a hand, you let him pull you up off the ground. He brushes grass off your back, and when you get back to the house, you head upstairs to change and hope nobody questions the grass stains on your shirt.

One night, after everyone’s in bed, you curl up on the beach on a blanket, your head against his chest. You listen to the waves and stare up at the stars. He draws lazy patterns on your back, his hand against your bare skin under the sweatshirt you stole from him.

“This is a real thing, right?” He says, quietly. “Not just a spring break thing?”

You smile into his chest, your cheeks suddenly warm. “God, I would hope so.”

“Okay, cool,” he says, in a very calm voice, like you can’t hear the thud of his heartbeat. “Cause I‘ve wanted this for a while.”

“Me too,” you murmur back.

Then he kisses you again, hand under your chin to pull your face to his. He’s a little sunburnt, and you can feel the heat of it on his skin when you brush your lips against his cheeks. Then again, maybe he’s just blushing. The way he smiles makes you think that might just be it.

…..

Keeping it from the rest of your friends is sort of… unspoken. It’s easy, like this, just the two of you. Easy to kiss and hold and talk and laugh without the pressure. You try to remind yourself that it’s okay to take it slow. That you have time to figure things out. And it’s easier to figure things out when you don’t have 6 other people’s opinions on it, let alone the whole team’s once they all find out. Whenever someone walks into the room and Oscar pulls his hand from yours, he scans your face, like he’s checking to make sure it’s okay. You always smile in return, and he lets out a little relieved sigh.

The very last night, you all order large amounts of pizza and breadsticks, and you spread out on blankets on the beach for dinner. The sun is low in the sky, and everything is golden. Oscar finds a spot next to you, laid out on the blanket. Max is already talking hockey plays, Lando listening intently while Alex rolls his eyes. George, Charles, and Lily are chatting about starfish. And Oscar is watching you, eyelashes fluttering against pink tinged cheeks. He’s being painfully obvious. When you smile back, you know you are too. For a moment, though, it doesn’t matter. Nobody’s paying attention anyways, as he brushes his fingers against the back of your hand where it lays on the blanket. It’s just you and him, for just a moment.

The next morning, before you head to the airport, you wake up early and find Oscar in the kitchen, cutting up fruit. His hair is a tousled mess, eyelids heavy, but when he sees you, he smiles, bright and warm and sweet. You walk over and slip between him and the counter, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“I was busy, you know,” he mumbles, though he doesn’t pull away when you lean in to kiss him.

“Mm,” you sigh. He tastes sweeter than normal. He’s definitely been sneaking bites of fruit as he goes. “Mango. My favorite.”

His cheeks are flushed. “Thought I was your favorite.”

You shrug and wink. “Close second.”

He swipes a piece off the counter behind you and presses it to your lips. You give him a closed lip smile as you eat it, feeling warm all over. He leans in and kisses you again when you’re done chewing, and you have the sudden, strong urge to pull him close, to press your hips into his, to let him pin you against the counter. But your friends are probably all about to wake up, so instead, you pull away and press a finger into the swell of his cheek. He laughs and kisses the furrow between your brows.

“Heading home today,” he mumbles, smile falling slightly.

You nod. “But it’s not just a spring break thing, remember?”

He nods again, the smile coming back to his lips. “Yeah. Just. Do you think we need to tell them?”

You know what he’s talking about. Or who he’s talking about, really. You tilt your head, chewing on your lower lip. “Do you think we need to?”

He sighs, nose bumping against yours. “They’re your best friends.”

And. Oh. Right. You hadn’t really thought about it like that, that it’s not just his teammates and your friends. It’s Lando and Max. Your chest twists. You like that it’s just you and Oscar, but you think about them, about how you share everything, and you wonder if they’ll be upset. Not even that it’s him, but just that you didn’t tell them. On the other hand, they’re likely to get overprotective and weird when they do find out. Max banned a guy you went on a date with from all parties your sophomore year, until Charles told him off for it, but by then it was too late. The guy was a jerk, which was half the issue, but still.

You blow out a puff of air, and then you have an idea. “I might… tell them I’m seeing someone, to start,” you suggest. “Just not who. Just… someone. Is that okay?” You ask.

“I think that’s a good idea,” he says.

“Okay. Cool. Me too,” you say with a nod.

Oscar giggles. You hear a door open, and footsteps. He groans, and you lean in one last time to press a kiss to his lips before you slip away. You sit down on a barstool just before George walks in, scrubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Morning,” he says, voice scratchy. “Ready to go home?”

“No,” you admit, and Oscar hums in agreement.

When he dishes out the fruit to everyone later, he gives you most of the mango. You grin up at him, wide eyed and feeling so, so happy. When you break his gaze and look across the table, you find Charles staring back at you, a knowing smirk on his face, and you wonder if you’ve been caught. Maybe you just look like a girl with a crush. You still feel like one, really.

You all walk down to the water one last time, dipping your feet into the waves as they crash against the sand. Oscar’s hand brushes against yours as he does the same. You don’t want to ever lose this feeling. The sun on your skin, the water tugging at your feet, and Oscar, next to you, feeling the same way you do.

When you pack the bags into the Uber to head for the airport, you feel a wave of sadness wash over you. You want nothing more than to stay, to never worry about school again, to let Oscar wrap you up in his arms and never leave. You pout, and Max catches you, laughing and pulling you into a loose hug.

“It’s okay, Bunny,” he murmurs, ruffling your hair. “We’ll be back before you know it.”

You don’t say it, but you think it- he and Lando are graduating this year. There’s a good chance they won’t be back next year, too busy with work or real life or whatever comes after college for them. Your heart twists. And Oscar- will he still be yours by then? Not just a spring break thing, you remember, but you have a strong urge to plant your feet in the sand and try to keep them all here. You watch your friends pack bags in the trunk and tease each other and laugh and your chest aches.

“Hey,” Lando says, quietly, sneaking up your other side. “We’ll be back.”

He knows. Max does too, but Lando really knows, because you think he feels it too. Max is trying to play hockey after college, but beyond beer leagues and pickup games, this year will be it for Lando. Senior year is exciting, but it’s a year full of lasts, too.

“Promise?” You ask, quietly.

He links his pinky with yours. “Promise.”

So you climb into the car, and you end up wedged between Oscar and Charles in the row of seats at the back of the car. Max is in the front seat, chatting away to the driver, and Lando’s already leaning his head against the door, half asleep. You press your shoulder into Oscar’s. He spots your hand on the seat between you and reaches out, brushes his fingers against the back of your hand. When you lean your head on his shoulder and let your eyes fall half closed, nobody questions it- you do it to all of them, all the time.

The beach house disappears in the rearview. Oscar presses a kiss to the top of your head when nobody’s looking, and you start to believe everything will really be okay.

bunnyrabb1t

liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen33, and 53 others

bunnyrabb1t truly a spring break to remember forever

landonorris still annoyed you and @/oscarpiastri didn’t bring me ice cream back :(

oscarpiastri You were invited & you called our ice cream trip dumb

landonorris doesn’t mean i didn’t want ice cream

lilymhe always a trip to remember with you babe!

bunnyrabb1t ilysm bb 😘

alex_albon hey. back off 🤺

oscarpiastri 🩵☀️🌊⛱️

bunnyrabb1t 🩵🌅🐚🕶️

charles_leclerc 🤨

carlossainz55 charles you are just jealous he is actually on her instagram before you

notes: hiiiiiiii hope this one was worth the wait!! if you are one of the people who told me you were staying up late for this: go to sleep! this is me tucking you in! see ya soon!!

series taglist: @sourskywalker @ivyvlair @gwginnyweasley @annispamz @bearlul @aresriiots @ggaslyp1 @putting-it-into-parc @black-fireproofs @smilinlemon @arieslost @floralkoi @vicurious28 @likedbygaslyy @rorabelle15 @bwormie @treatallwithkindness @fandomnerd11 @adhxmoony @sakuramxchii @insunia @mindflay3r @talking-raw @colmathgames2 @assholeinatrenchcoat @saachiep81 @venusacrossthestars @v1naco @anthonylockwoodandco111 @whalebursoot-main @ellen3101 @k-pevensie28 @ninifee1802 @not-nyasa @pleasecallmeunhinged @andruuu28 @aceofwordsandarrows @dreamsarebig @secretunnels @ginsengi @yayahnaise @f1petra @lovecarsgoingvroom @lalloronaisreal @fangirl125reader @tpwkmera @booksandflowrs @elizanav @lightsoutletsgo @meko-mt @customsbyjcg-blog @bingussthirdtoe @sideboobrry11

(crossed out means i was unable to tag!)

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murdrdocs · 3 months

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implied stepcest; suggestive content; MDNI

luke castellan who finally returns to his mothers home to find her name hyphenated, and two new people living under the castellan roof; his new stepfather and stepsister.

his stepfather is fine. nothing remarkable. just some guy who is eager to please and desperately wants to get on luke’s good side. and then completely opposing the mundaneness of your father is you.

pretty, interesting, all smiles and engaging anecdotes and generosity as you offer to show him what he’s missed in the past 10 years.

unfortunately, luke can’t prevent his mind from going straight to the gutter, anticipating you showing him the sexual things he’s missed. but he refuses to let himself go that route. you’re his stepsister for gods sake.

so he hides his attraction to you when you show him your favorite places. he tries not to let his eyes linger on your legs when you curl up on the couch a little too far from him during “sibling movie night”. he plays the concerned brother role when you mention crushes or other guys a little too well, hoping it comes off as over enthusiasm instead of jealous.

he feels pathetic. back at camp, he had more glory than he knew what to do with. he was the prodigal child, the camper people envied and lusted after. and now here he is, trying to shut out images of his new stepsister while he’s in the shower jerking his cock with images of someone who looks nearly identical to you in his head, save for a few key features that were different enough to satiate his guilt.

eventually, his longing has to come to a head. he needs just one touch, one moment, one something, and he promises himself he’ll move on. maybe get with one of your friends you keep trying to set him up with.

he offers to train you in hand to hand combat upon subtle suggestion from your parents, worried claims that you needed to be able to protect yourself just in case.

he teaches you the basics, walking you through ways to escape a hold from an attacker. then he works it out with you, fighting you enough to get you in the hold, and not letting up when you try to get out.

“a real threat won’t go easy on you,” he reasons when he has you pulled to his chest, arms wrapped around your body in a way that prevents everything but limited movement from you.

he has you, he knows that and you know it too. usually he would gloat. but he can’t focus on his ego whenever your ass is pressed right to his crotch, the thin fabric of your shorts leaving nothing to the imagination.

you tell him to let you go. he doesn’t.

you tell him again. he doesn’t.

“luke,” eventually your voice is a small whisper. your hips push back into his, your nails dig into his forearm. luke holds you a little bit tighter. he expects you to ask for more. to tell him to keep going.

“let me go.”

your words sting. they punch luke in the gut harder than your fist did.

he does as told, convincing himself that he’d imagined it all. all the while, he remains completely oblivious to the way you look at him. how upset you look for a split second when one of your friends flirts with him. how you choose the shortest shorts you own when you’re around him at night, and how you scoot closer and closer while you watch movies. how you barely tried to escape his grasp that time, instead letting yourself enjoy the warmth of his body against yours.

how you moan his name just a little too loud while you fuck yourself, hoping that the thin walls between your rooms won’t block any sound you make.

#my old writing style!#she’s back !!#lukesworld!#stepbro!luke #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan #celeste writes pjo #cw stepcest

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synthetickitsune · 22 days

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svt + who would sacrifice you to save the world vs sacrifice the world to save you A/N: i'd once again like to thank @hanniedream for driving me insane ♡

S.Coups ❧ Chooses you, over and over and over. Selfishly. So fast he doesn’t get to think about the consequences. It hurts him and it breaks him, and he’ll be the most possessive and protective of you in the aftermath. The only way he might not choose you is if you beg him not to. Maybe. But his body is already molded to only feel complete with you in his arms.

Jeonghan ❧ Chooses the world and he makes sure you understand it’s an apology to you. He will think of it as setting you free, allowing you to see more precious things that do not exist in this world. He will think of it as taking it easy - you know he gets tired quickly. Wherever you are, you will prepare a life where he can join you one day.

Joshua ❧ Chooses the world, and will spend the rest of his life mourning you, praying for your forgiveness. He wants to have hope, he wants to be glad about the choice he made. He surrounds himself with joy to feel justified in his actions. Nothing works. He retracts into the depths of his soul. Abandons his life, as if he lost any right to it after what he’s done.

Jun ❧ Chooses you. If the world came to a point where a person has to be sacrificed for it to continue, the feelings and lives of the people around them disregarded, that is no world that is right. He is angry and his fury burns doubts away, leaving only determination. A world like that is one worth abandoning. Where there’s will, there’s a way. He’ll create a kinder world.

Hoshi ❧ Chooses you, despite everything, because he can’t let go. He’ll hold onto you too tightly, so he can forget the things he sacrificed. He’ll carry enough guilt for both of you. He’s haunted by nightmares that only your heartbeat can chase away. Part of him wants to regret it, but his heart knows there never was any other possible outcome.

Wonwoo ❧ Chooses the world, because it’s the rational choice that he knows he’ll deeply regret in waves, but knows you won’t and that you will understand because you trust him like that. Everything will remind him of you, he’ll search for you sometimes, driving himself crazy trying to forget what happened. He can’t be left alone when he remembers he won’t find you.

Woozi ❧ Chooses the world, because you deserve better. He’ll live with the feeling that it’s just an excuse, even though he knows if he chose you, you’d hate yourself for it. And he’d hate himself for making you live with that guilt, in the world that is not the one you shared before. His yearning is dangerous and painful, all he can do is hope you can hear his apologies where you are.

The8 ❧ Chooses the world, because he loves it. Because he loves you, and he knows you won’t just disappear. You’ll linger around him in his heart and memories, in the wind caressing his face, in the water hugging him tight while he swims in the ocean. You’ll continue on his journey with him, and one day he’ll fill you in on the bits you missed. He will meet you again.

Mingyu ❧ Chooses the world, but cries before, during, and after going through with it. He can’t look at you, he can’t look at anyone afterwards. He believes he is a monster for being able to do that, and for believing he made the right choice. Every day he needs to find another reason to excuse what he’s done. You always told him to be strong when he was struggling - would you be proud of him for holding on?

DK ❧ Chooses the world, only because he knows that’s what you’d want. He runs away from the choice for as long as he can, just so that maybe he doesn’t need to make the choice. Was it inevitable? Or could it be avoided if you never met him? The world ended for him anyway, even as it keeps turning. It’s just as cold and empty as the universe enveloping it.

Seungkwan ❧ Chooses you. He wants to be a hero but he isn’t. He’ll apologize until the end of time for bringing this on both of you, he’ll be careful with the fragile and broken pieces of the two of you that the choice left behind, and take responsibility for his decision. He’ll make you happy. It’s never gonna be enough, but he’ll fill your world with every precious thing he can.

Vernon ❧ Chooses the world, but only because he believes he’ll meet you again soon. Every night he falls asleep thinking of the multiverse - there must be endless numbers of Vernons who chose you as you deserved, and there must be an equal number of Vernons who made the same choice as him and are hurting just as much.

Dino ❧ Chooses you, because he has a duty to fulfill and promises to keep. He couldn’t live with himself knowing he betrayed you like that. He promises to himself it will be a fresh start. You’ll do what you’ve always wanted together. The world always eventually heals itself. He promises to himself he’ll make it work if it’s the last thing he does - and he always keeps his promises.

#seventeen reactions #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen angst #svt angst #svt scenarios #svt reactions

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meanbossart · 1 month

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Because I love the idea of DU drow as a companion... how would you recruit him? Where do you find him, and what's his intro cutscene?

Hi, I've been thinking about this since I got this message :V

There's this nautiloid pod somewhere nearby the Owlbear cave right? So those things were just crashing all over the place, not just near the beach where the actual ship fell. I believe his pod could have had a similar fate and fallen somewhere off the beaten path.

Mind you that, In this scenario, waking up from the pod and onto the forest map would have been DU Drow's first-ever conscious minutes ever since having his mind wiped, so he truly has no fucking idea of what just happened - he just knows his head is in shambles and that he needs to survive for long enough for his memories to return, assuming they ever will. So, his immediate instinct would be to retreat away from where the people are.

I think underneath the bridge, where there's running water and some fauna/flora would be a good spot to find him. Players might take a day or two until they stumble across this weirdo companion and so they are more in the loop than he would be. You'd find a little blood-trail leading you down there, and eventually spot a fist's corpse with no shoes near the river - DU drow would be crouched down by the water washing blood off himself:

While the rest of the party may have been picked off random places as they went about their days, this guy was busy being dissected and put back together over and over again - and there's no way Kressa bothered to dress him back up fully before he was taken away from her (me allowing the man to have pants on at all is a mercy onto you all) so he begins with no armor, but to make up for that fact he's the only companion who begins with a great-sword, which he would have stolen from the fist.

When you approach he is perfectly calm, In fact, he doesn't seem all that there. He stands up and appears half-ready for a fight, but lets you speak first. You can either ask what he's doing here, or about the corpse. You get more or less the same answer to both:

If you successfully persuade him, he tells you with no particular tone of shame or remorse that you got him, he did kill him, however he claims he was attacked first. Whether you pry into his mind with the worm, or have a scroll of read-thoughts, you get the same narration:

"Behind the aloof facade, you find the drow's mind to be in a concerning state of disarray: dozens of thoughts racing, jumbled, all at once, each trailing into the next before you can catch a hint of substance. You don't find the answers you were looking for, just red goo."

You CAN however use speak to the dead on the corpse. If you do that, it's revealed that he is actually telling the truth; The fist found him and assumed him to be with the drow who raided Wakeen's rest. Otherwise, you have to either take his word for it, attack him, or leave him.

He will refuse your offers to join you/go to your camp until you reveal to him that you have been tadpoled - either through using the Illithid-worm option, or telling him upfront through normal dialogue. If you didn't peer into his head earlier, you will now, confirming to yourself and him that he's also been infected. Then, you can tell him you're looking for a cure, and he will agree to travel along. This gets you approval from Shadowheart, Karlach, and Astarion, and disapproval from Lae'zel, Wyll, and Gale.

If you attack, he's as easy a fight as any companion would be at that point. If you choose to leave him be/not tell him about your worm so he refuses to join, he will appear at your camp after two long rests, basically forcing himself to into your party unless you kill him. You find him hanging out around Withers and he tells you he's decided to travel with you from now on, and that he will make himself comfortable.

If you ask for his name, he tells you to just call him whatever you want to (cue like 5 joke dialogue answers - he responds to all of them with a snort and you get approval if you pick any flattering ones). Whatever you ask about him gets you a very blunt, vague response. If you have Shadowheart in your party/are playing as her, she implies he may be suffering from memory loss, finally prompting him to admit to it. Otherwise he only reveals this after a couple more long-rests.

#this was fun thank you LOL #I love thinking about his store in terms of actual game mechanics.#ask #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #companion DU drow

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babiebom · 2 months

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Sebastian NSFW Alphabet

A/N: the actual love of my life is next, be prepared for the others to either come over the next couple of weeks or the next couple of days depending on how fast I do them.

Tw: nsfw content(sex, kinks, cum, ome mention of piss yk the usual) cursing

Wc:idk

Stardew Masterlist NSFW Alphabet Masterlist

C- Cum (anything to do with cum,basically)

If you asked him to his face he’d just say that he’s okay with whatever you want but in truth he wants to ruin you completely. I think he would be very awkward and unwilling to admit that he wants to cum inside you and on you. Like he wants to go until you’re covered and filled with his cum. It’s probably a possessive thing.

E- Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

I think I’ve talked about this before? Like he’s either a virgin or he’s had one or two people that he’s slept with before. I do think he and Abigail have hooked up at least once but stopped at some point because something happened. But I do lean more towards him being a virgin right now

He doesn’t really know what he’s doing but he learns quickly and never shows that he’s clumsy with it. Acts like he’s just learning what you like in order to pretend that he’s cool calm and collected. Inside he’s freaking out because he doesn’t know what he’s doing and is VERY worried you’re not enjoying yourself.

G- Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? Etc)

He would want to be funny and relaxed in the moment, but he is quite serious because he’s kinda insecure, and wants everything to be good so he can’t really relax and be a little funny until you’re far into the relationship.

H-Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

His pubic hair is dark like his hair(I know people think he’s a redhead like his mom but I do like that his hair is dark.) he will let it get messy if he’s single but once he starts dating he trims it VERY low. Like he’s not bald but is very short in order to make everyone comfortable.

I-Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

I don’t think he’s very romantic unless you ask him to make more of an effort. I don’t think he’s entitled or even open with asking for sex, but you can tell when he wants to do the do. He’s more like….idk how to describe it. It’s just he’s like more touchy and cuddly when he’s horny? If you ask him to be more romantic he’ll do the candle thing probably or something nerdy but cute.

J- Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

One of the horniest men to ever exist ngl. Dude probably jacks off at least once a day. Let’s face it, he’s an antisocial emo, who sits in his room all day because he doesn’t want to leave it and to further that point he even has a job that requires him to not leave it. Seb has so much alone time and so many naughty thoughts that he has to rub one out in order to even concentrate properly. Luckily no one really bothers him so he has only been caught probably once and as a teenager.

K- Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Lord Jesus this man has too many to count so I might go top five. He likes role playing and dressing up for SURE. Wear that maid costume, or if you’re particularly dominant out HIM in a maid costume. Let him wear his Wizard cosplay like dude is DOWN. Bdsm. Literally(I say this word way too much)as a whole he likes bondage, he likes sadism and masochism(he will let you choose) he’s into dominant and submissive roles(again he will let you choose) it’s just FUN for him. He likes choking, and probably has a body worship kink (both ways), and overstimulation. Used to edge himself on accident and it became a thing for him

L-Location (favorite places to do the do)

In his room, or near the lake. He likes it most on his bed because after it smells like you, and he’s always dreamed of fucking a significant other in his bed during one of his jerk off sessions, and literally having you in his bed is a dream come true. Also on the couch in his room, because it’s kinda depraved. Like you two were so wrapped up in each other that you couldn’t make it to the bed that’s a couple of feet away.

He likes the lake because it gives off the exhibition vibe while honestly being kinda private. Like he’s usually the only one by the lake at a certain time (unless Demetrius comes and ruins the vibes for him even if he’s usually on the other side of the lake) and living on the mountain top means that no one is really around to snitch on him. Like his mother is too wrapped up in her husband and his sister is too wrapped up in her experiments and robots to even notice that he’s railing you by the lakeside.

M- Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

I feel like I’ve said this for EVERY character so I’m gonna try to reword it from just *you*

His mind gets him going. Like he’s always thinking of something dirty, even if he’s doing something completely innocent. Like he can be working and all of a sudden his mind is wandering because his work is so boring that it can’t help but fill the boredom with things he finds fun. Like video games and fucking you until the both of you are on the verge of passing out.

N- No (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

Like the last letter, I feel like i say it a lot for each character but like anything that’s too gross. Like I think this man might go pretty far. Would probably even try piss stuff once if you really wanted it. So like anything that’s farther than that is a no.

O- Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Would say his preference is giving but in reality it’s receiving. He loves giving head, don’t get me wrong. But he will never turn down you giving him head EVER. There’s just something about how the comepletely falls apart when your mouth is on him. He could cry from how thankful he is that you’re willing to do this for him.

Giving head I would say he’s decent and get better every time. He strives for greatness(lmao like he’s an elite employee) when it comes to getting you to cum. He will always try new techniques in order to get you cumming quicker each time. He wants you to feel the best he can make you feel.

Q- Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc)

LOVES THEM. COMPLETELY!!!! Wants to be in you all day every day, and if quickies are the way to do it before he can have you all to himself, well, guess you’re gonna have a lot of quickies throughout the day. Oh well!

R-Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks?)

Like I mentioned earlier, Seb has a bit of an exhibitionist kink, it’s more that he wants to show off that he gets to fuck YOU. Like look at my hot significant other, rather than showing off his skills or himself. He doesn’t really want people to watch at all(unless it’s like Sam who he’s cool with watching) but like he does wish that people knew that he somehow bagged the hottest person alive(you). So he’ll fuck you in semi public. Like at the lakeside in the middle of the night, or in his room when he knows everyone is awake

And yes he is always game to experiment. If it’s going to make the experience better for both of you, his thought process is: why not? Willing to try almost everything once.

T- Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I think he probably owned like a vibrating cock ring or a pocket pussy or a tenga egg or something while he was single. Now that he has you he rarely uses those things anymore unless you want him to incorporate it into sex.

Will buy toys for you, and if you buy toys for him he won’t object. Likes using them during sex, even if he doesn’t think y’all need them.

U- Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Likes to tease a decent amount, especially the more confident he gets. Will tease and laugh at you(in a mean but good way) if you’re begging or crying or something. Gives in if you beg just right though. He’s a menace not evil.

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archivesainz · 4 months

Text

he hit me but felt like a kiss. 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ cs55

. . . Carlos likes to take care of young women like you !

genre: dark carlos, smoking, age gap (10 years), smut, sexual tension, oral (f!receiving), degrading, the use of 'slut' and another’s, penetrative sex (p in v), choking, daddy kink, creampie, cheating (not with carlos x reader) and i can’t think more.

pairing: carlos sainz x reader.

a/n: I think this is a good way to start the account, asks, comments and likes are always welcome. english is NOT my first language, google translate.

I'M SORRY FOR WAITING ALL THIS TIME! I hope you all like it, happy new year!

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The waves of the beach were calming, you could already see the sun rise and its orange colours appear in the middle of the whitish sky. You did this a few times, when life disappointed you and you had to put up with it; you looked at your cell phone and the time marked '5:55', you laughed remembering the signs about looking at the ��angel’s numbers”.

You get up, walking to your house that was not far away and try to enter without making noise, going up to your room and sinking into your bed to sleep a few hours before college.

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You met him in a bar, he bought you a drink and you talked. On the dance floor he glued his body to yours and danced until you accepted the invitation to go to his house.

Now you're getting into his fancy and stuck car, and he's taking you home.

His icy hands came into contact with yours hot thigh, a junction of ice and fire, you felt anxious not only to be going to the house of a guy you met an hour ago, but also to the fact that your hand seems to rise more and more. You wanted to, but you wouldn't say, he also wanted and wouldn't say so he decides to start his game, you confess to yourself that choosing a skirt was a good choice, easy access and no winding. But no, he liked to get the most out of you, instigate you until you were begging him to stop, you didn't ask his age but assumed that he was over 20 years old. You laugh to yourself because you're going to fuck an older guy.

"Sorry to ask... how old are you?" You say it in such a soft voice that it makes it squeeze in the car seat.

"Thirty-two... why the question? Don't you like older guys?" He says, sarcastic with his elbow resting on the car door.

10 years. 10 years of difference between you, that's not bad, right?

"I like it, I love learning new things with experienced people."

He smiles on his side, lightly squeezing your thigh and slowly sneaking into your wet core. You sigh strongly, you are sure he heard and must be smiling while you close your eyes strongly the hand that was on your thighs disappears.

"Do you mind?" He says with a cigarette in his hand and a dark look.

You do it with no with your head and hear the noise of the lighter and the smell of the cigarette inhaling your nostrils. While he puts the hand that was the cigarette back on the steering wheel and touches its your core again, it is light and dirty his touches make you want more, want more from him and his body, he was driving you crazy.

You hold the door when he presses his fingers there, you let out a needy sigh and he smiles, you see that he stops the car and can see the dark house with lights that were mostly yellow he gets out of the car like a real rider opens the door for you and holds your hand to get out of the car.

"Welcome, princess." He speaks seriously as he walks with you to the entrance and throws the end of the cigarette in a nearby trash can.

His hands quickly go to your body when you enter his house, the begging and needy lips were filled with kisses with a taste of drink and cigarettes. His beard gently passed through your skin, and gave you shiver more and more as you went up to his room, his eyes did not leave your body, your skin, your curves and your ass.

You smile when he takes you in his lap and gently puts you on the bed, climbing on top of you and occasionally pressing your erection on your dressed pussy, involuntarily your hips push themselves up looking for more and you hear his low laugh.

"In a hurry, Cariño?" He asks, not taking his lips off your neck. "We have all the time in the world."

Carlos can't help it. He loses control, and passes the kisses to your lips again, and then to your still covered breasts. He's really attenuated by you. Your body is hot, and it looked like it was going to explode like a volcano.

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He grabbed your neck as if it were fucking nothing for him and saw you widen your eyes even more, your fingers looking for some way to undo that touch that took his breath away. After all, everything was still very young.

"You want to act like a whore as if you know what you're doing... But you don't know, my love, you don't know nothing." - Smiling with mockery he whispered against his little mouth and then went to attack his reddish and swollen lips from so many bites.

You moaned tearfully squeezing yours legs even more against the larger body, feeling the man suck your lip in a hungry and hot way; he was hot. Carlos kissed you as if life depended on that and feeling your mouth trying to accompany him left him on the edge of the abyss. If you were the prize at the end of the abyss he would certainly play headlong. Carlos grunted hoarsely as he sucked your tongue, feeling your taste mixed with the cherry of the gloss and it was to lose the reins, he could not be judged. The man then raised his hands around your waist to yours breasts again, squeezing the small mounds covered by the fabric.

His reaction was to grung soft in the middle of the kiss and squeeze his fingers in Carlos' straight and hydrated hair. You begged for everything that was more sacred that throbbing sensation between his legs would relieve the fastest. Carlos then left your lips with a slight suck on your bottom, listening to yours sly grunt and aiming at your eyes shining together with his pink cheeks.

"Take off these clothes for me, take them off... - He whispered hoarsely, breathing heavily as yours squeezed from your feet covered by your socks to yours thighs.

Promptly you obeyed, with those huge bright eyes so reduced before that man between your legs. You took off your clothes burning in horniness and shyness, he already felt Carlos' property and this feeling was indescribably delicious. You exposed yours sumped tits to him and saw him almost salivate, and like a wolf he advanced. The right arm took her by the waist hard, pulling against her big and stiff body, making you feel all the hot erection inside the social pants. She sighed loudly with the grip and can't help but moan when he started a surreal suction on her skin, sucking as if it were the best candy in the world.

"Oh- my god... Fuck.. So good..."

You begged with your virginal aura so strong, shaking against it while he felt him trim it easily, firmly in one arm only, sucking and sucking on your chest as if it were vital to him and maybe it really was. His whining made him disturbed, crazy, completely out of his mind and could eat you right there. Actually, he couldn't, but he wanted to. Fuck the rest, he would go.

Carlos could be patient after all, he was just tasting as much as he could, making the most of your beautiful naivety and this was like an impulse directly on his hardened and painful cock, there so trapped under tissues.

"My beautiful doll... It's so nice to suck on these beautiful tits of yours..". Whispered between one snap and another with his feedings, where Carlos knew well what to do to leave you at the apex of hypersensitivity.

He smiled like the scoundrel he was and looked at you as he dropped his sore chest in one last suck or almost bite. He removed your lip between your teeth with his thumb and advanced with his tongue in your little mouth, kissing and stimulating you to the almost apex. You felt his sighs and breaths, losing your little head with every rude touch of it.

You was completely lost, Carlos was sure you were dripping, and he could confirm by putting his hand between the fabric of those panties, right in your center feeling your pussy completely hot and totally soaked. Holding on his shoulder, he grunted aiming at the act, yours red cheeks denounced your lack of imminent experience and that was the end of it.

He was so fucking big. You lost your breath with the man's firm hands removing everything that covered your body, dropping it on your feet, feeling exposed and at such a disadvantage when he was fully dressed. Your mouth salivated and your cheeks pinched when he saw the tent formed on Carlos' pants and wondered if it hurt as much as it did.

You took the liberty of touching there, insinuating himself indirectly and even without knowing it squeezed the piece of meat, feeling the hardness and how hot and pulsating his cock could be. She swallowed and aimed at him from that position, smiling naughty and curious watching Carlos return his smile as he kissed your little mouth and grabbed your cheek once again.

"Slut... You're getting well trained. Is this what you want, hm? - The big hand landed on yours and squeezed the cock the way you liked it, while waiting for your answer. "Answer you shameless whore! - Roughly forced the touch on your cheek and saw you whine.

"Yes! Yes...yes... I need to...— you squeezed your legs to each other trying to placate that frustrating situation of your pussy and saw him laugh, laugh in complete debauchery and excitement. Carlos loved to see you as a doll that he could clog with cum, that was the truth.

"Daddy will do whatever you want and will put up with everything like a good girl."

Carlos squeezed his own member in his pants and ordered hoarsely; "On all fours, open it well and lifts up to me."

You didn't want to wait, so you promptly went up on the bed with red cheeks and loapy eyes, swallowing in dry when you were on all fours close to the edge of the bed, opening as you could your little legs, procing your tail well towards him. Your entrances totally exposed and melated. Dripping demonstrated the power of man over your body.

Carlos without wasting any more time, which was all they didn't have, opened his belt and saw you retract only with the noise, leaning on his little hands he guided you to support yours elbows arching your spine as much as possible with the palm of his hand there, opening your little legs as it should be, almost grunting when he saw you so open to him.

"Shhh.. this, that way, daddy will prove it to you first, and you won't keep your sounds for yourself, will you?" He whispered with a false condolence and almost deceived you, because his naivety was such that he came to believe in that asshole. "This beautiful little bitch... That..." He caressed your entire prancing back and saw you sigh nervously, anxious almost biting your own forearm and all he did was smile.

He smiled arrogantly before running his finger between your folds and feeling the humidity. "Shit... so wet for me." He whispered to himself that you almost didn't hear him, and sighed in need by the contact.

Without warning you felt his nose touch your moist mound and his mouth suck your sensitive clit, you moaned loudly and you are sure you felt you smile while sucking you. His tongue made smooth and slow movements, which made you delirious and ask for more.

It was the best pussy he had tasted in his life and he was addicted. Carlos was a rotten man. You no longer knew how to differentiate between your own moisture and his saliva, he was making a mess on you and you love it.

He spent time savoring your taste and widening you with both his fingers, preparing you for his cock. You felt your stomach tighten and the moans get stronger, until the sensations in your core stop.

He smiled scoundrel before fitting his swollen head against your recently deflowered little entrance, squeezing your cute hips he forced himself inside, without mercy he buried every thick and pulsating centimeter, gasping loudly with every tight and resistance that his warm interior gave him.

"Fuck... I'll destroy you and you'll ask for more."

He forced your hips well, at the right angle to destroy you and invade your most intimate corner and watched you growl tearfully, perhaps with hot tears in your little eyes and your hand trying to push him away every inch. The man's big hands wandered from your tense little legs to your waist and the curve was divine, his palm fit almost perfectly.

"That's a lot...! Carlos... Daddy!" - You begged him to practically growl and put everything inside.

It was so big and the position didn't help, but it was perfect for him. You completely felt how he stretched you from the inside.

"Holy shit... how small it is, princess... So tight, mi amor..." And he caught you like a damn dog, clinging to your beautiful little body hit your hips under him, the heavy balls were felt by you and your hand went up to his hair, taking everything out there. "Perfect for me..." kissed your sweaty shoulder.

How would you get away with that? You had no idea, You just wanted to be eaten. Fucked up. Ruined.

Carlos and you could feel his cock hitting directly on your stomach and it was a surreal thing the way it filled you and opened you like that. Stunning. Your bitch moans delivered everything.

"Tell me..." he took your hair off your little face again, even in that position because he had a free pass for his whole body, regardless of how he caught you. "You like to feel my dick here, don't you?" He stocked up and heard you practically scream, covering your mouth in order to control your volume he laughed nicely in your ear, giving you goosebumps. "Speak... Speak that you like it when daddy hits you right here... What's up, bitch..." He forced himself and pressed your limit, watching you cry and stay completely away, dumb, delivered, having to literally hold you.

"I like it..! I like it so much, Daddy!" You begged out of herself, possessed by the absurd pleasure she felt. "Please...!"

Carlos stocked you willingly, with strength and it was nice, the melty noises were possible to be heard every time he buried and came back just to mistreat you again a little more.

"Daddy is giving you what he asked for, princess... relax your pussy, hm?" It was a theater because he loved the tension and every time he drove you crazy and felt you squeeze it all in there; so warm and humid.

"Daddy..! Daddy, please... I feel... I..."

"Daddy.. I... I... my God!" You was coming and couldn't stand it, squirmed all over and squeezed Carlos as if he wanted to expel him from there because you was so sensitive.

The tears slipped and the man held you firmly in place, grunting with the squeeze and whispering a sequence of "shh" in your ear.

"That... that... good girl... beautiful girl... So beautiful... It looks beautiful all the dumb cock like that... it came so tasty, my pretty..." He whispered as he filled the side of your sweaty little face with kisses, red as he loved to see; devastated.

You accelerated breathing and low eyes delivered that she was no longer in this world and that orgasm was overwhelming, her legs were honeyed with her honey and Carlos buried in her place left her with her nerves the flower of her skin. He grunted when he was picked up and malled like a little doll, feeling him more deeply, if possible, leaning his hands somewhere seeking relief from that extravagant feeling of being full; Carlos had sat her on his lap, and her little feet barely touched the floor. She was so small.

"Now it's Daddy's turn." Whispering in the middle of his dirty smiles Carlos made you jump, like a doll.

And he did everything, made her go up and down and her contained whining showed how sensitive she was, tears flowed and her honey also went down the man's throbbing cock, making a mess. He growled in your ear every time he impaled you on his own cock, demonstrating how close he was.

He saw in the mirror her destroyed image and how easy it bounced on the man's lap, soft and fucked. Completely fucked up, both the body and the mind. Her poor mind, all there was in her was him.

He was beautiful, big and strong, the reflection of the mirror showed how beautiful he looked as he pursued his own orgasm, eyes closed or semi-closed, lips between his teeth beautiful and frowning as he growled and growled in his ear and neck. Drops of sweat adorned his face.

Carlos' big and voracious hands ran all over you sensitive body, squeezing where he could and where he couldn't. He stopped on the inside of his thighs and raised them as if it were nothing, now pushing his hip willingly; he would cum.

"Fuck...! Fuck, mi amor..." And then he came, filling you with will and strength, so much shit that he seemed to be keeping it all to yourself, all this time.

He moaned or whimpered, she doesn't know, when you felt the whole heat hitting the cervix of your uterus, filling you in absurd levels; it was absurd. A fucking good feeling.

He smiled as he came down from his height and took a deep breath like someone looking to recover. Carlos raised his hip giving you the whole view of him buried in there and went right there, that was the point.

"See? Do you feel that? That's me. It's my fucking dick all inside you, hard as fuck..." Whispering against your cheek he spread his hand against the beautiful relief that was in your belly and you felt the tears flow in the mountains; that was surreal.

You spasmed like the good sensitive little whore you are, almost melting right there with the vision of that volume inside yourself. How could you stand all that? It was being destroyed little by little and that was exciting. You tipped your head on Carlos' shoulder and stirred dencosa, grunting when she felt too stimulated.

It was all too much, everything in Carlos for you was too much.

You hid your face in the curve of the man's neck, or at least tried, aiming from there at Carlos' ring finger; a fucking ring shone in pure gold.

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a/n: As I said, English is NOT my first language so if there is something confused or wrong please tell me!

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 smut #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz smut #im going crazy #smut #i need him #sorry not really sorry #carlos sainz

854 notes · View notes

mysticheathenn · 4 months

Text

What are you Destined for?

Hi there! Remember to take what resonates and leave what does not. This reading does not supplement your need to seek professional help.

Take your time when choosing your pile. Ask yourself the question and choose the picture that you can’t stop looking at. Listen to your intuition.

The extended FREE reading includes:

What steps to take that will lead you to your destined life?

Messages, Signs, and Synchronicities from your Oracle Cards.

Pile l:

Where are you currently in life? (Tarot: Knight of Wands, Eight of Wands, Five of Swords, Eight of Pentacles, Two of Pentacles, and Eight of Cups)

Shuffling your cards, a sign that says dead end pops up in my head along with the song Energy by Keri Hilson. Currently, you may be at a job that doesn’t fulfill you or doesn't give you any kind of balance in your life that you desperately crave right now. Some of you may have issues with if not colleagues possibly the higher-ups at work because you don’t feel appreciated and like the song energy it’s draining you day in and day out and you don’t see the light at the tunnel some days. Some of you wish you could quit but you know people around you will see you as a fool because maybe this job gives you good benefits, discounts, it’s “stable”, or maybe it looks good to have on your resume but inside you’re dying. You know you can’t keep doing this job forever and know you need to leave soon but aren’t sure when to leave or even how because for just a few of you, you may not have a backup or even know what you want to do with your life. Maybe you’re a part of the group where your parents have told you X was a good career choice and you never thought about looking into anything else because you trust the opinions of others or trust in something that’s more predictable than having constant downs and ups.

What are you destined for? (Tarot: Knight of Wands, Eight of Wands, Five of Swords, Eight of Pentacles, Two of Pentacles, and Eight of Cups)

Travel, flexibility, and freedom are what you are destined for. I’m hearing influencers or even content creators for a lot of you. Just remember content creator doesn’t always mean social media you could possibly be an artist and use social media to help promote your brand. The song Belle from Beauty and the Beast is playing in my head. It’s the song where Belle is singing about longing for adventure and the great outdoors something more than this everyday life that has everyone satisfied and content with not wanting more. You want to be your own boss and not have to deal with the constant drama of having other people around you telling you what you can and cannot do. This may be specific for only just a few of you but maybe you have a manager who doesn’t like to let you take time off from work or even play favorites with who they allow and don’t allow to do things. For those who want to be influencers, I’m mostly seeing travel, and artists (writers, bloggers, painters, sculptors, etc) again you don’t have to be but I’m feeling this pile wants freedom or at least a job where they can wake up how celebrities do. If you want to do nothing all day, that’s what you do. If you want to go to Bali at the drop of the hat that’s what you do and so forth. You don’t want to be tied down to a desk job your whole life and I’m here to tell you you aren’t. You are destined for this life pile 1 but it’s up to you to walk away and come up with a plan that will help you on this journey.

(This extended reading is available for FREE!)

Pile ll:

Where are you currently in life? (Tarot: The Hermit (reverse), 6 of Cups, The Fool, Temperance, The Moon, and The Tower (reverse))

Healing. I kept hearing the word healing over and over again in my head. Some of you are on a spiritual, religious, or even personal development journey where you are currently in solitude trying to work on your shadow self and other areas in your life that either haven’t been going well for you or something happened to where you had to take a step back and see the red flags to a situation that you were color blind before. For some of you this could have been a relationship (platonic or romantic) that forced you to see someone for who they really are and caused you so much pain to the point you just want to be left alone right now to heal and replenish yourself because you feel you can’t depend on anyone else. You feel everyone is out there to hurt you right now but you know deep down you don’t truly feel that way you’re just hurting and need to do some inner journey work to figure out what and where you go from here. I’m here to tell you it’s nothing but up from here boo.

What are you destined for? (Tarot: The Hermit (reversed), 6 of Cups, The Fool, Temperance, The Moon, and The Tower (reversed))

Generational Curse Breakers. With the 6 of cups someone handing over a cup filled with nothing but goodness and loving energy while you have a cup that is sitting behind you empty on a broken rock states you want to do and show up better for the next generation whether in your family or for people around you. You are walking down a new path that no one in your family or in your friends group has walked down before because you have seen growing up what certain environments, behaviors, or even thought patterns can do to a person and you don’t want that for yourself. You want to be able to uplift people, see people thrive, and grow in a loving environment. You want people to see and feel nothing but peaceful and calming energy from you like maybe your dream is to be that safe space for those you love or for your future children if you decide that’s what you want. You are done with people handing out traumatic experiences and passing them off as trophies or something that should be normalized. Good for you babe! I’m proud of you.

(This extended reading is available for FREE!)

Pile lll:

Where are you currently in life? (Tarot: Five of Wands (reversed), Seven of Wands, Knight of Pentacles, Ace of Pentacles (reversed), Ace of Swords, Five of Cups (reversed)

Rolling in the deep by Adele is your song pile 3. Even though the lovers, 3 of sowrds, or even 2 of cups isn’t in your pile I am sensing some of you are going through it with a relationship. Maybe you thought you found your prince charming and you wanted to prove that you’re a ride or die to the point it left you empty, drained. The meme “I done ride and died, ride and died so much I died” is coming to mind. Some fo you thought this person was some sort of savior for very few of you this person may have provided you a certain lifestyle only to throw it in your face constantly making you feel like a burden. This doesn’t have to be romantic as again no romance cards are here. This could be family, a job, or even friends who you feel you have given your all to and you’re just tired and left on E. The saying no one is coming to save you is coming to mind. You have to save yourself.

What are you destined for? (Tarot: Death (reversed), 6 of Cups, Wheel of Fortune, Temperance, 6 of Wands, and 10 of swords (reversed), 10 of Cups, and The World (reversed))

Victory is what you are destined for pile 3. Finding your community that loves and appreciates you for you exactly. You are the only pile where your destined for cards are different from the where are you currently in life question. So this tells me that you are going to go through a transformation. People you were once attracted to or would attract in your life (again doesn’t have to be romantic as no romance cards) will leave you alone as your energy is going to be changing for the better. You will be thriving to a point in your life where in order for people to reach you they need a bean from Jack and the bean stock or an extremely tall ladder for those who don’t know that children's story. I’m not getting too much more information on this question as it’s quite straight forward and I rather not repeat myself. Just know your environment, yourself as a whole will be changing. There was a tweet that once said "I want the next person in my life to have to go through God in order to get to me."

(This extended reading is available for FREE!)

Thanks for checking out my reading. Be sure to check out Patreon for the rest of the FREE reading. I appreciate all of you, until the next reading.

Stay Safe and Be Blessed.

#spirituality #tarot reading #pick a card #pac reading #pick a pile #pac tarot #tarotcommunity #witchblr #tarot cards #tarotblr #divination #patreon #pick a picture #pick a photo

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daycourtofficial · 4 months

Text

Come Back to Bed

Summary: You wake up in the middle of the night needing Eris.

Warnings: smut, literally just smut, cock-warming, degradation, Eris being the hottest man alive

Your footsteps are silent as you patter down the hall, the silence of the Forest House a nice surprise. Between Eris’s brothers and the staff of the house, the place was usually bustling with people and noise.

You slink to Eris’s study, slowly opening the door, trying not to disturb him too much. You walk over to him, draping your arms over his shoulders from behind and whisper, “come to bed.”

Your mate had told you he would have a long night tonight - he had been neglecting some correspondence the past week in favor of time with you, and he didn’t want it to get too bad.

He grabs your hand, rubbing soothing circles on the back of it. “I just need another hour, bunny.”

You sigh into his neck, and walk around the chair, moving his arms so you can sit directly on his lap.

He at least had changed into some loose sleep pants, your mate often choosing formality over comfort. You’re glad he listened to you about being comfortable, however the thinner pants might be a problem for you, considering the reason you came to seek him out.

He sets his quill down, his hands ghosting over the backs of your thighs that your short nightgown doesn’t cover, helping you lower yourself right over him.

You practically moan feeling his cock pressed against you, and he gives you a feline smirk.

“Oh, bunny, is that why you came to find me?” He asks, one of his hands softly grabbing your neck. “Couldn’t stop thinking of me?”

Your hips start grinding against him, the only thing separating you two is his thin pants.

The hand on his neck gently glides down your body, caressing your breasts as it moves, and lands on one of your hips, his other hand taking the other hip, holding you in place.

He starts guiding your grinding, forcing you to go faster, as you tell him quietly, “I had a-a dream.”

His smirk grows even larger, his fingers digging deeper into your skin.

“My little bunny can’t have a peaceful night’s rest without my cock, can she?”

He quickly pulls you off his cock, your whine making him chuckle. He rests you on his thigh, barely making contact with it before starting to grind again.

He starts to undo the button on his pants, allowing his cock to spring free of the fabric. You stare at it, the need inside of you becoming so much stronger.

“If you don’t close your mouth, you’re going to start drooling,” he laughs, “maybe I should just leave you to look at it, see if you will drool.”

You whine, picking up the pace on his thigh, his pant leg coated in your arousal.

He grabs your hips again, placing you back on top of him, allowing you to line yourself up with his cock, slowly stretching yourself on him.

You gasp as he fills you up, and you go to start moving again, when you feel a ring of fire around your waist, keeping you in place.

He grabs your face, looking so smug you want to slap him, “aw, did my bunny think it’d be that easy? I still have work to finish. But if she’s good and waits patiently right here, I’ll let her have what she wants.”

You sigh, trying to just move your damn hips, but his fire is keeping you in place.

“Oh and one more thing,” he says, a ring of fire binding each of your hands to his shoulders, “no touching yourself either.”

He sits up a little straighter, making a big deal of pressing his cock further into you, reaching past you and grabbing his quill, picking up where he left off.

You’re not really sure how long it’s been when you hear Eris put the quill down, your head snapping straight up to look into his eyes, full of mischief and enjoyment.

You want to snarl at him.

He picks you up, letting you off of his cock, as he lays you down on the desk, all the letters still covering it.

“Now, for being a good little bunny, I’m going to fuck you right on top of all my correspondence,” his hands start moving up your sides, helping guide you to lay on top of the chaos of his desk. “Maybe your scent will coat the letters, and everyone will know how much of a needy little whore my mate is and they’ll understand the delay in communication.”

You moan at his words. He crawls on top of you, his hands trailing up your legs, his fingers caressing you, feeling how wet and needy you are.

He drags one of his fingers through your folds, your breath hitching in your throat as he brings the finger up to his mouth to taste you.

“Such a needy bunny,” he says, letting his cock drag across your folds, watching you shiver with need.

“Is this what you need?”

You nod your head, but he grabs your jaw, making you look at him, “Use your words.”

“Yes,” you say, keeping your eyes locked onto his.

“Good,” he says, as he slides himself into you again. Instead of staying in place like he had been for the past hour, he sets a quick pace with his thrusts.

He leans down to kiss you, his tongue licking your lips for entry. You let him in, the taste of your own arousal entering your mouth.

The sounds coming from you are utterly sinful, and his sounds are no purer. The fast pace, the sounds, his tongue in your mouth.

It’s too much for you, it’s too much for him, and you feel his warm seed fill you up, causing you to come undone.

You’re panting, trying to remember anything other than Eris, when he pulls himself out of you slowly, and starts inching his hand down to you, collecting all the semen that leaked out of you and was coating your folds.

“What are you doing?” You ask, trying to catch your breath.

“Well if you’re so needy, I want you to have every last drop.”

He plunges the fingers coated in him inside of you, starting with one, then adding a second.

“Maybe if I keep you fuller, it’ll keep you satiated for longer.”

You’re grinding down on his fingers as they work in and out of you. You’re bordering on overstimulation, when he begins biting your neck.

That causes you to come undone again, Eris smirking at you spasming around his fingers.

He kisses you gently as he pulls out his fingers and scoops you up so you’re curled in his lap as he sits back down in his chair, holding you close to him.

“Do you think,” you say, out of breath, “all the ink was dry when you laid me down?”

He laughs, looking at the desk where a few letters are smudged. “Not a chance.”

#acotar fanfiction #eris x reader #eris smut #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x you #eris x you #eris vanserra smut

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hellfire--cult · 4 months

Text

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

wc: 10.1k

HEAVY TRIGGER WARNINGS: +18, suicide attempt, reader is suicidal, PAS (Physician Assisted Suicide), neglectful parents, weed and alcohol, feelings of loneliness, hurt/comfort (?), fluff, kissing, some mentions of nausea, smut implication, angst. So much angst.

Plot: Eddie was new to the group, and he connected with you after an unfortunate event. You were excited to finally put an end to your suffering, of all those years of feeling nothing, and you had made a list of things to do before going.

a/n: I cannot stress this enough, please, do not read if this will be triggering for you. If you read PAST the warnings, it is your own responsibility, and I will not hold myself accountable for it.

This is somewhat inspired by the movie and book Me Before You. So yeah, have fun.

Always reblog your artists, likes don't do much.

Please, Trust Me

Eddie came into the group a little bit late, so to speak.

He was assigned to do a project alongside Steve Harrington in Psychology class. College was just something Eddie wanted to focus on studying since he had a reputation of repeating his senior year two times in a row, but Steve was friendly. Eddie, well, he didn’t realize how badly he needed social interaction until then.

So Steve introduced him to his group. Robin Buckley, Nancy Wheeler, Jonathan Byers, and you. Now, Eddie got to know everyone, except yourself. As Nancy put it, you were in many extracurricular classes, so your time was limited. Eddie, of course, understood, but he also felt you were scared of him somehow. You always averted your gaze from him in the little moments you spent together, so he gave up on trying to talk further with you.

Holidays were approaching, and Eddie had the opportunity that his uncle was leaving the nice house he finally got to purchase near lover’s lake in Hawkins, his hometown, so he thought it would be a great idea to invite everyone over… Well, not everyone.

Since he thought you were scared of him, he believed the invitation would be rejected, but everyone else agreed to come over to his place. It was just a two-hour drive, and he couldn’t wait to get drunk and high with everyone else.

Robin told him that you didn’t have time anyway to assist, seeing that you were going to visit your mother for Christmas, so Eddie’s guilt vanished completely. He felt horrible for not inviting you, that’s why he asked Robin to ask you about your plans for Christmas.

So off they went, having a great time by the lake, drinking beer, eating grilled burgers and sausages, and then on Christmas night, the fireworks went off, and everyone was already drunk by that time, messaging loved ones and wishing them great holidays.

The next day, you called Robin, wishing her a happy Christmas. Eddie was packing the suitcase to go back to Indianapolis, when he overheard Robin tell you that they were spending New years there too, completely surprising him. He expected to return on the 26th, but he was excited to spend more time with his friends. Once again, you told Robin that it was fine since you were still at your mom’s.

And so, new years went by. Now on the 2nd of January, they all finally returned completely drained from all the alcohol and food, but still with smiles on their faces. Robin then turned to Eddie with an innocent smile on her face as she sat on the passenger’s seat.

“Eds, can you drive me to Y/N’s place? I want to show her the rocks we picked up at the lake, and I will likely stay the night at her apartment.” She batted her eyelashes at him and he rolled his own eyes.

“Okay, let’s take you to the rich girl’s place.” You explained to the group that you weren’t good with a roommate, so you rented a place near the campus to live in until your studies finished. Eddie realized you weren’t a middle-class person just by knowing that, and he doesn’t know why you would choose a college like this one instead of Harvard or something like that, as rich people do in movies.

Robin met you thanks to you being signed up to tutor her in a particular class she was struggling with. She and you immediately clicked, despite you acting a bit shy and reserved at first, as if not trusting Robin at all, like a scared animal in the wild meeting another species.

Once they arrived at your apartment complex, Robin once more looked at Eddie with a pouty lip.

“And help me with my bag? My shoulders hurt from swimming all week…” And once more, Eddie rolled his eyes, sighing as the two of them got out of his van and he went to the back to get hold of her bag, swinging it over his shoulder.

“You can just say you are lazy as fuck Buckley.” She giggled at his response and they both walked into the reception, calling the elevator to go up to your floor. Once they were at your door, Robin knocked a few times, only to be met with no response. Her smile faded slightly and she tried again, and once more, met with silence.

“Maybe she didn’t return from her mom’s.” And she bent down to look under your mat, finding the spare key. You told her she was welcome at any time, to simply look under the mat for the key and make herself comfortable, knowing Robin likes some quiet away from the dorms now and then.

She opened the door–

“Hey, you–”

And she and Eddie immediately winced at the strong smell of unwashed dishes or something of the sort.

“Jesus Christ, what is that smell? Did she forget to wash the dishes before leaving?” Eddie replied, looking over at the kitchen counter, his eyes furrowing together as he looked at a particular tray that was filled with gingerbread men cookies. They were all with a bit of fungus, and one had been bitten, one of its arms missing.

Robin closed the door behind her as she looked around, finding that there were bottles of different alcoholic beverages on the sink, a cup of ramen noodles on the coffee table in front of the TV, half-eaten, and then she spotted the small Christmas tree in the corner of the room.

She remembers how excited you were, buying your tree, telling her that you never had the chance of decorating one before because it wasn’t truly celebrated in your household. Dread immediately invaded her as she remembered that, slowly walking towards it and Eddie following behind, dropping Robin’s bag to the floor.

Robin gasped as she kneeled to the floor, finding different presents under the tree, one for each person in the group, including Eddie. His heart plummeted to the floor as Robin showed him the small present, and you didn’t even know what he liked, yet you bought something for him.

Robin then turned while getting up, looking towards the door of your bedroom that was shut. She rushed towards it and she felt her heart starting to want to come out of her mouth as she swung it open as quickly as she could.

And there you were, in your bed, resting, and Robin felt herself breathe in relief, but Eddie didn’t. Not when he noticed the bottle of wine next to you, on your nightstand.

“Maybe she didn’t think she was gonna go to her mom’s and she forgot about the cookies.” Robin said as if almost trying to convince herself. Trying to make a reasonable explanation other than the most horrible one that she could think of because of course, she doubted it when you said you were visiting your mom.

Because you mentioned to her that you two weren’t close.

Eddie slowly walked towards you, not caring about the smell that lingered in your room, knowing that you probably hadn’t showered or cleaned the place in a while. He looked down on you, tilting his head. You had the blankets all over you while you rested on your belly, eyes completely closed.

He raised a hand towards your face, under your nose, and his breathing stopped. Your breaths were slow, not even deep, and you were drooling, all over your pillow. He grabbed onto the edge of the blanket and Robin moved to stop him, yet he yanked it off.

“Robin… call 911.”

But Robin was frozen as she looked at your frame, her lip starting to shake as she inspected your right hand. A hand that was holding something that looked empty. Something that she saw was half full the last time she came over.

That orange flask that contained your sedatives.

And you chugged them down with alcohol.

Steve was rubbing Robin’s back as she sobbed into her hands, hunched over the chair of the waiting room. Eddie was on her other side, his leg bouncing up and down as he bit his nails. One day he was laughing with everyone and now he is waiting for some good news regarding your health, someone he barely knows, yet he is worried shitless for.

Loud heels were heard across the hallway, a woman in her late 40’s, wearing designer clothes, looking rather stern as she got closer to the door of the room you are in. Her arms are crossed as she stands next to it, tapping her heel on the floor, catching the attention of the three people sitting on the chairs.

“Excuse me?” Robin’s weak voice called out and the lady snapped her head towards her with an eyebrow raised up.

“Yes?”

“Who are you?”

“I am this girl’s mother. Who are you?”

And the three friends froze in their seats. It was your mother. The person you supposedly spent the holidays with, yet, she didn’t look concerned for you, but rather she looked angry, or disappointed.

“We– We’re her friends.” Robin replied with a small voice, because could she even say that? Do you deserve someone like her as a friend? Even as a partner? Someone who forgets what you told them almost a year ago? The woman scoffed, shaking her head.

“Friends? That is surprising. Were you there when she did this?” Her voice was cold, and anger started filling inside of Eddie’s chest. Why is she acting this way when her child is inside that room, fighting for her life? A life she almost took herself?

“N-No, we found her like that…” Robin looked back down again and Eddie could only look at her wrecked face with pity, yet, he could not comfort her.

“I see. Did the doctor come out or something yet? I have somewhere to be, and I cannot waste my time on this. Not again.”

And the three sitting people shot up from their seats, all with alarmed looks on their faces.

“I’m sorry… again?” Robin asked, the answer scaring her yet she needed to know what it meant. She needed to know if she was an even more horrible person than she was ten seconds ago. Your mother scoffed, shaking her head again and Eddie’s hands turned into fists.

“It’s the third time. I already sent her to a psychiatrist, a mental hospital, and therapists, and yet she still tries. That girl has everything, and yet she always craves attention this way. I’m sick of it.”

And Robin wanted to puke, right then and there, while Steve looked at Eddie with tear-filled eyes and the metalhead could see how bad his friend felt. How evil he must feel. Steve gulped and looked back at your mother, clearing his throat to be able to talk.

“W-Why would she do this?” And your mother scoffed, looking for her phone in her purse as she talked.

“Just because I forgot about the holidays and her birthday. I already sent her a message apologizing and telling her she could ask for anything she wanted, but she went and did this.”

And Robin froze.

Birthday.

December 28th.

Your birthday.

And she couldn’t handle it anymore, yanking herself away from Steve to rush towards the toilet. Steve called out to her, rushing to her aid as tears rolled down his cheeks and Eddie was frozen in place.

Not only did you spend the holidays alone, but you also spent your birthday by yourself, while they were all having fun in Hawkins, shooting fireworks and drinking alcohol to their heart's content. And you were alone, with a bottle of wine and instant noodles.

He was about to talk to your mother, about to insult her, to drag her on the floor, but the opening of the door in front of him made him stop in his tracks as the doctor walked out with a board in his hand.

“Okay, so, we got her blood cleaned up. It’s good that you caught her at such an early stage. Her vital signs look stable now, but she will have to stay here for a few days, two tops, so we can monitor her a bit more.” Your mother cleared her throat and the doctor looked up at her with a tilt of his head.

“So, she’s okay.” And there was such coldness in your mother’s voice that Eddie felt his vile rising in his throat. The doctor only sighed, taking his glasses off.

“She is, but we cannot overlook a suicide attempt. Does she have anyone to talk to? Maybe I can give you brochures for–”

“I already sent her to an institution once, but it didn't work. That child is an attention seeker, pay it no mind.”

Eddie’s eyes were burning in anger at her words and the doctor looked as surprised and hurt as he did. He cannot bear to hear your mother’s words any longer, so little care, with lack of empathy and lack of love. He wondered how many things you endured with a woman like this in your life, and honestly, he was afraid of finding out.

“W-Well, since you’re the mother, maybe you should–”

“She is a grown woman now. She can make her own decisions as you can see. I shall not worry about her anymore.” And just like that, the heels echoed in the hallway once more and Eddie’s eyes were wide as he looked at her retreating figure. A mother leaving her child after they tried to end their life, like no care in the world, as if she hadn’t given them their life to begin with.

Three times? Three times she did this? Walking away from you? How could she call you an attention seeker? How could she even acknowledge something like that when you were screaming for help?

“Ahem.”

Eddie blinked as he looked towards the doctor who had a confused yet pained look on his face.

“She is awake if you want to see her. I assume you are a friend of hers?”

Is he? He is not a friend, but you cannot be alone, not here, not right now. Robin is probably trying to breathe while Steve is comforting her, but maybe… Eddie knows you probably don’t want to see them either. None of that group. So he gave the doctor a nod, and he slowly opened the door of the white room.

His eyes scanned it, and finally, they landed on you. Your arms were connected to an IV and a blood transfusion bag, the heart rate monitor beeping right next to you as your back rested against the pillows, letting you sit on the bed. You looked emotionless. Eyes empty. Hand on each side of your body and Eddie knew your mind, your feelings, were completely shut off.

He gulped with nerves and the door closed behind him, making him wince, but it alarmed you that someone came into the room, making you look up. Your eyes twitched in surprise, yet if you were, you didn’t express it, nor show it.

“I guess you’re the one that found me?” Your voice was empty, with no tone, as if it were a recording or an AI robot. Eddie slowly nodded as he took a few steps toward the chair that was on the other side of the bed.

“Robin and I found you.” You gave a slow nod, looking back down to your lap. He didn’t know what to say, he didn’t know anything about you but he feels like he should have. He cleared his throat to continue talking. “I, uh, liked the necklace you got me. Pretty metal.” He winced at his words because it was something he shouldn’t have brought up at all.

Your eyes raised to meet his, another nod going towards his way, diverting your eyes back to your lap. He looked around for a second, the nerves all over his body. He was almost trembling with the need to talk to you, but what can he say? What could be something you want to hear right now? And coming from him?

“Ask away.” He startled at your voice, jumping on his seat as he looked at you once more.

“What?”

“I know you want to ask. And maybe you can also help me by telling the rest about it and how I am not going to talk to them again.” You were still not looking at him and he cleared his throat as he felt his mouth going dry, but now he knew you weren’t going to talk to the others about this. The relationship is already broken inside of you.

“I– Okay, um… I guess the first question is, why?” He slowly asked, afraid of even being able to talk to you about this, but sometimes they say that a stranger is the best listener, and maybe Eddie was just that.

“Why… Only child, homeschooled all my life so no interaction whatsoever with the world, absent mother, holidays and birthdays by myself, father was never found. Need to say more?”

And shit, Eddie was not expecting that at all. You had been miserable from the very beginning, unwanted by your own mother, and now he realized how horrible you must have felt with the whole group. Your first ever friends and they forgot every single detail of you. How you never spent a holiday with people, and was so excited you even baked cookies to share and bought presents for a gift exchange, your first ever most likely, only to never happen.

And now, he realized that… His other friends do not deserve any kind of pity, or forgiveness.

“Okay, then… Why were you scared of me?” At his question, your eyebrow raised up, and turned your head to look at him.

“Is that what you thought?” You asked with complete confusion in her tone. He looked at you with his own frown, tilting his head.

“Well yeah, you avoided me like the plague…” And you looked up at the ceiling, closing your eyes, and shaking your head with a sigh.

“No. I don’t trust people easily as you can see.” You looked down at your lap once again and he wanted to sigh a little bit in relief at that, knowing that his clothes or his whole demeanor didn’t actually scare her. She was just shy and probably nervous.

“Right… Um, Robin and Steve are here as well, do you want me to–”

“No. I don’t want to see them.” And your words spoke for your pain, and Eddie was not going to argue against it. They honestly didn’t deserve your forgiveness or kindness, that much he knew, but he also felt guilty. Really guilty.

“I– I am sorry… I didn’t invite you because I really thought you hated me– and I took everyone away, I didn’t know any of this, I am so sorry if I knew–”

“You weren’t the one who forgot. You don’t know me, but they did.” He gave you a nod in understanding, yet the guilt is still lingering in his stomach. He cleared his throat and he wanted to ease the tension for you, to relieve the somber moment that filled the room.

“So uh, you knew I liked Metallica huh? Is it because of the hundreds of shirts that I own?” Your eyebrow raised at him and you turned to face him while he gave you a cheeky smile of his own. You squinted slightly at him, but a small tug on the corner of your lips gave you away.

“Well yeah, all the times I’ve seen you it was either Metallica or Black Sabbath. It had to be one of the two.”

“What if I only liked their logos, huh?” At that, you rolled your eyes at him, but he kept making jokes at you, and a giggle here and there could be heard in the room.

Robin and Steve were hearing the both of you outside your room. They looked at each other for a minute before hesitantly walking away. Robin turned her head at almost every step, wanting to barge into the room to hug you, to say she was sorry. But she knew it meant nothing, not anymore, and not ever again.

What she did, what they did, cannot be fixed.

Eddie was lounging with his headphones on as he listened to music while resting against a tree trunk. He was bobbing his head as he wrote some lyrics on the notebook he had over his leg. For the past three days, he hasn’t heard of you. He tried visiting you yesterday only to find out you were discharged and he felt too embarrassed to just go to your apartment.

He had also distanced himself from the group. It didn’t sit right to be with people who could easily forget about something so important like a birthday. You didn’t have any social media, so the least they could do is put the birthday in their own cell phones, like Eddie did as soon as he left the hospital.

It’s not like he didn’t talk to them, he just made excuses when they asked to hang out with him. He just couldn’t shake off the bad vibes from it all.

He looked up from his lap only for his eyes to bulge out of his skull as he saw you almost prancing in happiness while walking through campus. That’s a good sign, isn’t it? He immediately put his notebook into his backpack and pulled his headphones down, resting them around his neck. He got up, almost tripping as he did so, as he rushed towards you.

“Hey! Hey!” He yelled at you to catch your attention as he got closer. You turned to face him, still with a wide smile on your face.

“Hi, Eddie.” You were smiling, that’s good, that’s really good. He was almost breathing heavily from the run he just did. He wasn’t athletic and the smoking surely doesn’t do him any good.

“Yeah– I just– give me a minute.” He huffed as he tried taking a deep breath in, and you giggled motioning to him to sit on a bench near the both of you. You sat down as soon as he plopped down, taking another huff of air as he turned his head to look at you. “So, what got you all smiley?”

“Well, I just dropped out of college!” You announced with a smile and jazz hands, startling Eddie completely. His face was contorted in confusion and wonder.

“What? Why? You didn’t like what you were studying?” You shook your head as you looked at the horizon, not anything in particular.

“It’s just pointless now.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m going to California in three months.” Your head turned to look at him still with a smile on your face. “I’ve been offered P.A.S.”

He frowned, not knowing what those syllables meant at all. He tried putting them together in his head but nothing was coming up.

“What’s that?”

And Eddie didn’t know why you opened up to him with that. He didn’t know why he didn’t care that you did. He didn’t know why this relationship between the two of you evolved in this manner, as quickly as it did… but he never expected to hear the response you gave him.

“Physician Assisted Suicide.”

And now, Eddie knew that term, and his eyes bulged out of his skull. You were… offered that? How can that happen? You had no health issues to go through something like that, so why would you consider that? Why would the doctors even consider that for you? His heart was just hammering in his chest as dread invaded his gut.

“W-What? Why– how?” He was speechless, not really knowing what he was asking or what he wanted to know at this point. He felt his gut turning at the information like he couldn’t believe someone as young as yourself could even consider that way out.

“Well, it was due to all my medical records, be it psychological and physical. My mindset never changed.” Your gaze turned from him to nothingness once more. “I go, get help, only to get out and for everything to be the same. It never changes, because it was never me who had to change.”

Eddie slowly blinked at your wording and his eyes drifted to the sky as his thoughts raced through his mind. Can he even talk you out of this? How can he even do that? You seem happy, way too happy with this solution… You were excited.

“You’re not… scared?”

“No. Not at all. I am ready to go. My heart can barely handle it anymore.” And Eddie’s eyes turned towards the profile of your face. You had made your decision clear, and he wouldn’t be able to stop you now. No one can. The group was no longer part of your life, your mother didn’t care about your decision so it seems… and he is no one to stop you.

“Alright… You– um, what are you gonna do until… you know, then?” He asked and you smiled at him, grabbing your backpack to take out your notebook, and flipping a page to show him a list, which made him frown in confusion.

“These are things I never tried because the opportunity never presented itself. Before, I didn’t know–” You cut your voice short at what you were about to say, and then you continued. “Now that I know when it’s gonna happen, I don’t want to go with any regrets.”

Eddie looked at the list, and he couldn’t believe… how trivial some of these things were.

- Go to an amusement park

- Smoke a cigarette

- Buy a Barbie Dreamhouse

- Eat a cake for breakfast

- Get high

And then he saw more complicated ones.

- Go skydiving

- Learn to drive (or attempt)

- Try to skateboard

- Ride on a jet ski

- Attempt to make a rainbow cake

And so many more. You had filled an entire page with things you wanted to do and he looked up at you to see you looking up at the sky with a smile on your lips.

“I think I should get the Barbie Dreamhouse first. Oh, maybe get some alcohol, I never got fully drunk, but maybe tonight I can since I don’t have to wake up early anymore–” And you went on with your plans and Eddie was just staring at you as the thoughts ran through his brain.

Everyone else was walking all around the two of you, and nobody knew that you were going to die in three months. No one knew you had made an entire bucket list with things to do before going. No one knew about this decision of yours, and he wasn’t going to let you be alone in this. He doesn’t want you to live these last few weeks with no one at your side.

“You know, or I can make one of your wishes on the list come true.” Your head snapped towards him with a surprised look on your face.

“Oh, what?” And a smirk formed on Eddie’s lips.

“Getting high.”

“Did you prepare the pan?”

“Uh…”

“Eddie!”

He immediately rushed to grab onto the pan as he burst into giggles thanks to the weed in his system. The munchies came to life with you two after smoking a whole joint from Eddie’s stash. You had the open bag of pizza rolls in your hands, the oven already turned on as you waited for Eddie to put some oil spray on the pan.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just– I was stuck looking at the wall.” He simply replied to you, making you burst into laughter, trying not to let the pizza rolls fall to the ground. He followed you with chuckles as he sprayed the pan and handed it to you so you could throw the pizza rolls on it and then begin cooking them in the oven.

You were relaxed, that much Eddie knew, and he was smiling as you tip-toed in a dance towards your couch, plopping down. He followed soon after, sitting next to you. You giggled as you stared at the ceiling.

“I feel like I’m on a cloud.” Eddie stared at your profile for a while before he began talking once more.

“I wanna help.”

“Hmm?” You turned to face him still with a dopey smile on your face.

“I want to help you complete some things on your list.”

And your smile fell as if becoming sober out of nowhere. Eddie then gulped but his resolution was already said and you moved uncomfortably in your place.

“You don’t have to pity me. I can do these–”

“No, you can’t. Learning to drive a car? How do you plan to do that?” At that, you opened and closed your mouth many times and then cleared your throat.

“An instructor!” Eddie rolled his eyes at that, and put his hand up, his fingers up.

“Getting drunk, you need supervision.” He put a finger down. “Going to a concert, you’re gonna get squashed.” He put another one down. “Playing Mortal Kombat, you need an enemy.” He put another and then you stopped him completely, shoving his hand down.

“Okay, okay, okay! I see your stupid point.” You sighed as you threw your head back against the headrest of the couch, looking at your ceiling. He knew you were overthinking it, but he honestly wanted to help you in any way he could.

“C’mon, there are a few things in your list I am dying to try too. Like– Eating Argentinian food. I never tried that shit, I bet it’s fucking delicious.” You giggled at his expression and then nodded at him.

“Okay, fine. You can help. You will also help me bake that stupid rainbow cake I always wanted to try.” He laughed at that with a shake of his head.

“Another thing I never did in my life was bake. It’s gonna be a journey. Do you have insurance here? We might burn it all down.” At that you punched his shoulder lightly, causing him to laugh it out followed by your giggle.

And what a journey it was gonna be.

“Seriously, YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO GET ME INTO THIS TOO!” Eddie almost screamed as he looked out the window of the helicopter with a frightened look on his face. Harnesses were all around his body, a man behind him strapping himself closer to Eddie’s back.

You were in front of him, holding your laughter as you held onto a handle on the side of the big machine that was now miles and miles above the ground. The helmets on both of your heads almost crushed your skulls but the protection was needed. Another man was strapping himself to you behind your back.

“Oh come on! You wanted to try new things!” You yelled at him so he could hear you over the loud sound of the helicopter.

“Yes! BUT NOT SKYDIVING! I WAS HAPPY TO WAIT FOR YOU WITH EARTH BENEATH MY FEET!” He yelled back and you were trying really hard to contain your laughter. Suddenly the big door next to the both of you slid open and the wind immediately pushed your body and Eddie’s back from the force but the guys remained still as they held onto the handles above the door.

“You guys ready!?” The one behind you asked and Eddie rolled his eyes behind the goggles.

“DO I HAVE A FUCKING CHOICE?”

“Nope.” The guy behind him said before jumping out with no warning, dragging Eddie with him, and then the guy strapped to you followed close behind. You were screaming your lungs out, and Eddie was shrieking. The adrenaline of falling was making him feel butterflies in his belly, almost making him feel sick.

He can hear you closer now and he raised his head to see you in front of him with your arms splayed out and reaching out for him. He could hear your laughter through your screaming and he reached out, fighting the strong wind, to finally lock his hands with yours as you two were freefalling towards the ground.

He couldn’t help but smile and cheer out from how extreme the whole situation was. He didn’t know how you weren’t hungover, you had gotten yourself as drunk as possible yesterday night while dancing to his music. He showed you how to headbang properly, and he took care of you when you started letting the contents out in the toilet.

He held your hands as tightly as possible, your fingers intertwined with his, as you both yelled with excitement and fear as you plummeted down and down. You only separated when the men behind your backs tapped on your sides so they could pull the parachute open.

Your bodies jerked as you started floating in the sky, and Eddie was left laughing as you both glided downwards towards the ground again. He could see the entire city and the fields as you both kept coming down. He turned his head to see you laughing as well, your head looking up at the sky in bliss and he felt his heart tug on him slightly.

Once you two touched earth again, Eddie let the air out of his lungs with relief and the guy behind him unstrapped himself so Eddie could catch a proper breath, taking the goggles and helmet off. You followed a few seconds later, walking towards him with a smile on your face and taking your goggles off.

“It wasn’t so bad, was it?” You were breathing heavily and he scoffed at you with a shake of his head, flicking his fingers on your forehead.

“I won’t let you drag me into something like this ever again.”

You laughed at him and you both walked back to Eddie’s van after you paid for the experience. You didn’t let Eddie pay at all, since you dragged him into it. He was going to invite you for dinner though, and you wanted McDonalds, so he was driving back towards town as you two talked in the van.

“So, you never told me about your parents.” You blurted out, catching him by surprise, but you were indeed right. He gripped his steering wheel a little tighter, but he kept a small smile on his face.

“Oh, where to begin? My mother died when I was young and my Father was… very abusive, and often dragged me into stealing with him. He got caught and he’s been in jail for a while now, he’s charged with robbery and homicide attempt.” He took a big gulp in as he kept driving, not used to letting people into his life in this way. “But, my uncle Wayne took me in at fifteen. He is the father figure my father failed to be.”

You were silent as you listened to him. He didn’t hear anything from you so he turned to face you, only to see you looking at him with tears running down your cheeks. He wondered what was going on in your head at that point. He was about to ask you what was wrong and you sniffled, wiping the tears away with the back of your hand.

“I’m– sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that.” You said regretfully and he instantly shook his head.

“No, no… don’t worry. I’m past it.” He was worried about what you were thinking about at the moment since you remained silent for a while.

“I’m a little jealous to be honest… You had someone that…” And he waited for you to continue, but when you didn’t, he pressed forward.

“Someone that what?”

“Wanted you.”

And his heart broke at that, immediately so, and he knew his eyes started burning from the incoming tears and he shook his head to keep focused on driving. You didn’t need him to cry, you didn’t need that.

But should he tell you what he thinks? Should he tell you what has been on his mind for the past month that he helped you tick things off your list?

“I–”

“Oh! Before I forget–” You looked through your purse, pulling out your phone as you started scrolling, and he frowned as he tried to look at what you were doing and then back at the road. You giggled and moved away so he couldn’t see. “No peeking!”

“Oh come on, you can’t just do that and not expect me to be anxious!” He laughed as he kept his gaze on the road and then he saw light in his peripheral vision and he looked quickly to see you were showing your phone to him. He switched from the road and to your phone but he couldn’t quite read it. “What’s that?”

“You know how one of the things was to go to a concert?” He nodded and you giggled, putting your phone down again. “I got us two tickets to go see Megadeth!”

His jaw could just fall from his skull at this point as he tried to focus on driving and not the shock from those news. Did you say Megadeth? Are you serious? Eddie has been dying to see them live but when he got into the virtual line they got sold out in just a few seconds.

“What?!” He yelled and you kicked your feet on your seat as you stared down at the phone. He was speechless, a smile spreading on his face, only for it to fall back down. “Wait, do you even LIKE Megadeth!?”

“Well, I haven’t heard much, BUT YOU LIKE THEM, and I assumed that we should go to a concert we both can enjoy. I doubt you want to go to a Taylor Swift concert.” You replied with a wiggle of your eyebrows only for him to scoff.

“Taylor Swift has some sick songs. But– Yes, I do prefer Megadeth sweetheart.” He smiled widely at you and then looked back at the road, cheering as he hit the steering wheel with excitement. “Fuck yeah!”

You were laughing on the passenger’s seat and Eddie was smiling all the while as realization started to dawn on him that… he may like something more than Megadeth’s music.

It was a special kind of tune.

“Seriously, how long are you gonna take darling, we had to go like yesterday!” Eddie yelled with a pissed-off tone as he paced in your living room.

“It’s my first time wearing something like this, it needs to be perfect!” He heard you yell from the bathroom and he sighed, but a smile was splayed on his lips. He was looking out the window as he waited for you in his Megadeth tank top with a black leather jacket on top. He heard the bathroom click open and he sighed in relief, turning around with a roll of his eyes.

“Finally–” And his breath was knocked out of his lungs. Your hair was messy, completely batted, wearing heavy black makeup on your eyes, strong lipstick on your lips, a black top with a black long-sleeved fishnet shirt on top, and then black leather pants below. You gave him a twirl and wiggled your eyebrows at him.

“So!? I had to look at a tutorial on YouTube to get this done, but I think I did pretty good–”

“You look beautiful.” And it was natural. It came out without doubt, without him thinking too much about it, and you were shocked, yet, he noticed how you diverted your gaze away from him, and he chuckled at how embarrassed you got from a compliment regarding your physique.

“I– uh, it isn’t weird?” You asked and Eddie knew you felt a little self-conscious of how different you looked. But you were indeed beautiful, this just enhanced it in ways he didn’t think could be possible and he felt his knees bending for you.

“It isn’t darling…”

There was a moment of silence between the two of you and Eddie could only stare at you as he walked closer to your frame. He saw how your shoulders went up and down a littler harder than before, signaling him that you were taking deeper breaths, maybe from nervousness, he didn’t know.

“Um–”

“Sweetheart…” You finally looked at him and he smiled, rolling his eyes. “Can we please go now!?”

And you giggled at him, the tension leaving the both of you as you made your way out to head to his van.

The ride to the stadium was filled with music, mostly Megadeth which you started listening to since you showed Eddie the tickets three weeks ago. Today signaled the second month of you two completing your bucket list.

One more month to go.

And the concert was filled with screams and laughter from your part, Eddie protecting you from the people pushing against you, but you didn’t care, experiencing your first concert ever, and you wanted to share it with him. This was your first and last concert, and you decided it was gonna be Megadeth, for his taste.

“That was AWESOME! My neck needs ice from all the headbanging though.” You sighed as you two got back into the van after almost three hours of jumping around. Your make up was smudged, your hair looked a little sweaty, and your lipstick had washed away from the sweat, yet, you looked as beautiful as you did hours ago. Even before the makeup. Maybe even more.

“Hey, you were great for your first metal concert.” You giggled at his words and gave him a nod.

“I am a natural.” You smiled at him and he just kept staring at you, licking his lips as he looked down and then moved his whole body in order to face you. The nerves were almost killing him as he tried to formulate the following words.

“I uh– I can help you cross another thing off your list.” You tilted your head in question and you pulled out your notebook from the bag you left in the van with your bucket list and then a green highlighter.

“What is it?” You smiled at him as you handed them to him and he scanned the whole list, looking for that one thing and when he spotted it, he felt his heart in his throat as he slowly showed it to you, pointing at the line.

Have the first kiss

You blinked once, twice, and then looked up at him with a confused frown in your eyebrows. He gulped loudly and he might have overstepped it, but he still waited for your response and he could see the incoming tears in your eyes as he felt his hands becoming sweaty.

“You– You don’t have to do that… I– You don’t have to do something you don’t want to–”

“I want to. I really want to.”

He could see that you were nervous, looking everywhere but his face. You didn’t reject him. You were worried that he didn’t want to do this and felt pressured because of your list, and that was far from the truth.

“I– How does this go?” And he wanted to smile at your innocence, but he felt sadness that you never experienced any kind of physical interaction in all your life. But he smiled anyway, in order to calm your nerves down. He raised his hand towards your cheek once you moved to face him in the passenger seat. Your breathing hitched at his touch, finally looking at him, directly into his brown eyes.

“Just close your eyes. You can tell me to stop whenever, I won’t pressure you, sweetness.”

And his voice was soft, and caring, his thumb smoothing your cheek in circles and when he saw you close your eyes, he took a deep breath in as he slowly leaned in. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, the blood rushing to his head at a quick pace, but he had to focus. He knew his face was flushed, but he couldn’t help it.

He could smell your perfume still, despite all the jumping, all the sweat, it was still lingering on your body. He finally closed the gap between the two of you in a soft peck on the lips, staying there for two seconds before pulling away as a chill ran down his spine. He wanted to dive into it, take your lips completely, but he didn’t want to overstep. He opened his mouth to ask if you were okay, only to be surprised by your hands grasping his face, pulling him towards your mouth again.

He gasped into the kiss, and he took it as a sign that you wanted to know more, experience more, learn more. So he kissed back, his hand moving towards the back of your head in order to push you further into him as you two hovered over the console. He started to move his lips, slowly, and he felt you follow him, hesitant at first, maybe doubting what you were doing.

He was having a hard time focusing on not letting his instincts take over, a very horrible time. This was a bad idea. This was a terrible fucking idea and he knew it, but he couldn’t help it. He needed to be the one to give this to you, because if someone else did… he wouldn’t be able to bear it. He didn’t want anyone close to you, not like this.

He felt your hands moving to the back of his head, your fingers digging into his curls, and he held a groan in, trying to not let it show how carnal he was becoming. He was nervous but he wanted to see if you wanted to take it even further, so he poked his tongue out, licking your bottom lip tentatively.

He heard a gasp coming from you and he noticed that you didn’t get the idea of what he wanted to do, so he tried again, licking in between your bottom and top lip. You seemed to know what part comes next, so you slowly opened your mouth, and he met his tongue with yours, earning another gasp of surprise.

He wanted to know what thoughts were running in your mind right now as he kissed you. Did you feel the heat rising? Did you feel scared like he does? Did you feel happy? Confused? Nervous? What is going on in that head of yours?

He didn’t want to break it apart, he really didn’t, but it’s been minutes, and he didn’t want to overdo it at all, and he can’t hide his real feelings for much longer. He slowly pulled away from you, the smack of lips separating and vibrating all over the van. You two were breathing heavily as you stared into each other’s eyes.

“So? How was that for a first kiss?” He asked breathlessly and he could see something in your eyes that he couldn’t quite describe. It was a mixture of emotions, not one in particular, but he couldn’t pinpoint what it was. He was still holding onto your face, waiting on your response.

“It–” You opened your mouth to say something, only to shut it seconds after, and then a smirk appeared on your lips, pulling away from him to sit straight in the passenger seat. “I don’t know Munson, got nothing to compare it to.”

His mouth fell open, a laugh escaping his lips as he poked the side of your body, making a giggle escape your lips, flinching away from him as he kept poking you repeatedly.

Yeah… your laugh was better than any song out there.

Five days.

Five days and you were leaving.

And it’s not like you were going to come back. You weren’t going to in any shape or form.

Eddie was lounging on your couch as you put things in cardboard boxes. Things you wanted to donate since you weren’t going to need them any longer. He closed his eyes tightly, his heart aching and wanting to stop you, to yell at you that you didn’t have to do this, not anymore.

“Okay, I think I’m done for today. You sure you don’t want any of this?” You asked him and he felt as if a knife was stabbed into his throat. He wanted to cry like he had been doing alone at night whenever he went to bed. Sleepless nights were plagued by the thought of not seeing you anymore, of not being able to hug you, of not being able ever to cuddle you like he wanted.

“Yeah, pretty sure.” He didn’t want to sound bitter or angry, but he couldn’t hide it. You didn’t acknowledge it of course, so you shrugged, closing the box and standing up from the floor before heading to your room.

He stared at your open door, needing to hype himself up. If it’s not now, he won’t have the chance to do it again. He needs to kiss you once more, he needs to hold you close, he needs to show his feelings through actions.

So he stood up and slowly walked towards your room. You were cleaning up your closet, looking through your shirts. He watched you move through your room, and he looked over to your desk, seeing the almost completed bucket list. Some were just impossible to complete, like riding a kangaroo, but there was a particular one that he wanted to fulfill, and not because it was on the list.

If this was the only chance he could do it, he would take it. You noticed his presence when you turned around with a shirt on your hand and saw him looking at your notebook. You tilted your head to the side as his fingers trailed one particular line that was yet to be highlighted.

“Eds? What’s wrong?” Your voice held worry as you put the shirt back in the closet and Eddie turned his head up to look at you. He turned to close the door behind him, to face you again, taking a few steps forward to stand in front of you.

“I saw one more thing on the list… a thing I want too.” His voice was small, lacking confidence, filled with nerves, but he needed this. He needed you. He hoped he wasn’t getting this wrong, because ever since that kiss the two of you stole glances from one another, laughter as friends turned into flushed giggles.

“And what is that?” You asked with a frown on your eyebrows, in question. He wrapped an arm around your waist, flushing your body to his, his breath most likely hitting your face as he felt your shoulders move even quicker than before, signaling him you were taking fast breaths.

“Do you trust me on this?” You stared up into his eyes for a full five seconds before slowly nodding at him. He lifted his other hand to cup your face in his palm, and he leaned down to take your lips with his.

Electricity ran through his body, and he wanted to smile, he wanted to cry, he wanted to yell, he wanted to rip and break the walls, he needed to destroy something, he needed to hug someone, he needed comfort but he also needed the rage.

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, holding onto him as your lips moved together, soon tongues intertwining as the seconds passed, and your breathing turned jagged as you pulled away for some air. Eddie leaned down to kiss your jaw, startling you, to then move downwards towards your neck, planting soft kisses onto your skin.

A gasp escaped your lips at the sudden sensation, new, raw, and Eddie felt you shiver under his touch, but instead, you were gripping his shoulders in order to pull him closer as the hand that was on your waist started sneaking under the hem of your shirt so he could touch your skin.

“Eddie…” It was a partial moan, but he took it as a green light, moving you towards the bed so he could lay you down but before he crawled on top of you he took the chance to take his jacket off, throwing it across the room, not caring where it landed.

If this was going to be the only time to have you like this, he would make sure to make you feel like the most adored person in the world. He will make sure of it. Even as your moans filled the room, he couldn’t help but want to record them, knowing he won’t ever hear them again.

And that line was highlighted in green when you both woke up the next morning.

Make love

He didn’t want to look at you.

He couldn’t.

The sun was shining through your curtains as you walked around the apartment with the small carry-on waiting for you at the front door. The past few days the two of you dipped into the sheets, all day, cooking when necessary only to return to bed.

He really wanted to cry and yell, and he almost left in the middle of the night in order to not see this day. In order to just run away from the fact this was your last hour with him, and you had asked him to take you to the airport. He can ditch you, tell you he wasn’t going to do it, that you could get a cab.

But he couldn’t do it. His heart was ripping out of his chest at every step you took in your apartment, the seconds ticking closer and closer to the departure of your plane. A plane with no return at all. A one way ticket.

He looked around your apartment, and boxes of stuff that you wanted to donate surrounded him, as well as bags of your clothes. You told Eddie that he was the only one in your will. That fact broke him to the core, knowing that you were leaving everything to him, but the only thing he wanted was you, and you were going to leave him.

He didn’t want your pans, your apartment, your cutlery, your game consoles, or TVs. He wanted you, and only you. He didn’t notice that his tears were falling down his face as the lump in his throat became bigger and harder to swallow at every gulp he tried to take.

“Okay, I think I’m–” You stopped on your tracks when you saw his profile, noticing the tears, your eyes widening as you approached him, your hands cupping his cheeks for him to look at you. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re leaving me.” He wasn’t going to hold back his feelings anymore. He showed you through his actions, but he never said them out loud, and the least he can do is let you know this.

“What–”

“I love you.” Your eyes widened and your mouth hung open at his confession, but Eddie didn’t stop talking. “You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met, and fuck, you need to know how much I fucking want you.”

You were stunned into the ground and that’s when Eddie turned to look at you, only to see tears running down your face as you covered your mouth, taking steps away from him.

“You– You can’t say that to me, not now. Please– Please– not now.” You were choking into your sobs as he stood in front of you, coughing to be able to speak.

“I– I want you to stay… Please, don’t take that flight… I beg of you, please, stay with me…” His lip was trembling as he felt nausea fill his stomach, taking a few steps towards you as the crying finally was heard through the apartment.

“I– I don’t need your pity! I– I am happy I am doing this! You’re lying in order for me to stay, and I’m not going to buy it!” You yelled through your sobs, and Eddie felt his chest ripping open at your thoughts.

“I am not lying! I am in love with you! Why can’t you believe that!?” He was screaming now, trying to get his point across but you also didn’t back down, yelling back to him with the same confusion, with the same anger, with the same sadness.

“Because how can I trust that!? How can I trust you!?” And Eddie grabbed you onto your shoulders, squeezing you tightly in order for you to look at him and not run away. His eyes were on fire as he gazed at you through his tears.

“Trust me just like you trusted me to hold your hair back when you got too drunk and you were in the toilet! Trust me just like you trusted me to teach you how to drive! Trust me just like you trusted me to protect you in your first night club outing! Trust me just like you trusted me when I made love to you!”

And the screaming ceased, eyes locked into one another’s, tears still streaming down, never stopping, heavy breathing trembling against every wall. You were shaking under his touch, your lips trembling as your hands shook on your sides while he still gripped onto your shoulders. You opened your mouth to talk once more, your voice small, broken.

“You… One day you will get tired of me, but you will feel bad for leaving me, so you won’t… I can’t– I can’t chain you like that–” Your voice was breaking his heart, even more than before, and he shook his hair desperately as he let go of your shoulders so he could grab your hands and hold them with his, getting closer to you.

“No, no… I won’t ever get tired of you… Not you, not in a million years…”

“Eds…”

“Please… Please don’t go… Please, trust me.”

You sobbed a gulp of air and you raised in order to give him a soft kiss on the lips. His breathing hitched at it, but kissed you back, dread filling his core, every vein, every blood cell instantly freezing at what the future will hold, of what this kiss meant. You pulled away with a small smile on your face. Small, authentic, yet sad.

“I love you, Eddie… I’m sorry…”

And your flight took off that day.

“Mr. Munson…”

“Mr. Munson!”

Eddie jolted in his seat as he put his wallet down to look up at his group of students. Gregory was raising his hand and Eddie pointed at him so he knew he was acknowledged.

“Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts. What’s wrong Mr. Gill?” He asked and his student asked something about the textbook they were all reading. His college students. He began explaining the paragraph that seemed like a puzzle to students from the book “Down the Rabbit Hole”.

He graduated in Psychology three years ago. He was offered a job as a professor in the same college he graduated from, and he was more than happy to pass his knowledge to other students to help them understand how the brain works, and the many branches that can come out of it after every single situation in life. Traumatic or not.

Once his students went back to reading, he grabbed onto his wallet again, looking inside to see a picture of you and him, completing one of your bucket list’s objectives.

Go to an amusement park and get pictures taken in a photo booth.

He chuckled as he remembered that outing, how you had screamed at your first ride on a roller coaster.

He became friends with Steve once again but was still not fond of the rest of the group. The only reason he got close to Steve again was because he was also a teacher in the same college. He was a professor in physical trauma, so, in their breaks, they would smoke together as they walked through campus.

The bell rang and it was time for him to finally head home after a long day of having four classes in the day. He grabbed his suitcase, hoping no student would stop him on his way out and gladly it never happened. His hair is still the same length, but he is always using a ponytail or a bun on his head.

He has heard rumors that people always gossip about him, asking if he was single, or what was his life like outside college. He shrugged the comments away as they weren’t important at all. He just came to work and that’s it.

He got into his car, a black jeep he saved a year for in order to buy it. He missed the van, but he had to upgrade it once and for all. His van was a little old so replacement parts were a bitch to get. He turned on his car and then started his drive back to his home, a two-story house. It wasn’t big or luxurious, but it was his home.

He sighed in relief as he opened the door, throwing his suitcase on the couch after slamming the door closed. He cracked his neck a few times before taking his blazer off and then his tie, unbuttoning the first two buttons of his shirt and opening the cuffs at the end of the sleeves. He groaned with satisfaction as he sniffed the air.

He smiled as he walked towards his kitchen, leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, his teeth showing into a massive grin.

“Hi baby.” You smiled widely at him as you took the pan out of the oven, filled with cookies that were freshly baked. He walked towards you, his hand stretching out in order to grab a cookie, only for it to get slapped away by you. “They’re hot!”

“I am strong, I can handle a little bit of burning.” He grinned down at you, leaning down to give you a soft kiss on the lips in greeting. “Were my princesses hungry for cookies?”

“Are you talking to me or…” He chuckled at the pout on your face and he bent down to kiss the big bump on your belly, standing up straight later on, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close to him.

“Those two are my princesses, you, my love, are my queen.” You rolled your eyes at his antics but you giggled either way. He gave you a smooch on the cheek, making you laugh, trying to push him away. He spotted something on the kitchen counter, pulling away from kissing you and getting the item in his hand.

“Oh! Yeah, Chrissy gifted that! She said–” Eddie laughed as he looked at you and then putting the two pink pacifiers that you can put flavored ice in so they can chew and help with the heat.

“Another gift!? Damn, she really wants to be the godmother of one of our princesses huh.” You pushed onto his shoulder with a pout on your bottom lip.

“Hey, she is going to be the best aunt.” Eddie nodded at that and he really wasn’t angry at Chrissy. You met her after you moved out of your apartment to go to Eddie’s. She was moving in at the same time you were, and you two helped each other in bringing the boxes in.

Yes, your flight took off that day… Without you in it.

You stayed with him, wrapped in his arms as you cried, not being able to stop as your feelings confused you, scared you, your mind a jumbled mess but Eddie held you through it. Eddie wasn’t going to let you go, never, and he promised it, over and over again into your ear, hoping it stuck to your brain.

“Oh no baby, I don’t doubt that.” He smiled at you as you started taking the cookies off the tray, taking care of your hands so that you don’t burn yourself. Eddie just stared at you with adoration in his eyes, as if you held the entire world in your hand, and you did. You are his world. You are everything.

You turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow in question, wondering if he was scheming something that you didn’t know about.

“Now, what is going on in that mind of yours Munson?” He found it ironic that you can easily ask that question to him when he wanted to ask that to you many times before. He smiled at you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, his hands resting below your bump, holding onto it as he felt his two daughters moving inside of you.

“I just love you Mrs. Munson…” You turned your head to give him a soft kiss on the cheek, before focusing once again on the cookies.

“And I love you.”

After a moment of silence, he pressed a soft kiss on the side of your neck, surprising you, yet a giggle escaped your throat.

“Thank you.” That confused you, turning your head to look at him and he was already smiling fondly at you.

“For what?”

“For trusting me.”

The end.

a/n: this story explores the idea of death, the idea of being ready to receive it with open arms, with a rational head. But it also explores the fact that things get better if you meet the right people. It might not be now, it might not be tomorrow. It might take years for you to do so, and people in your life will come and go.

But there will always be that one person. And that is all you will ever need.

Taglist of people I mentioned this to: @littlesubbyflower @munson-blurbs @andvys

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