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chelseeebe · 2 days

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too sweet (for me) p2

lines begin to blur between his two lives, eddie feels hopeless at any semblance of keeping you away from that side of him. how does he fair when murray drags you kicking and screaming into this world?

a/n: so perhaps this is a little dramatic and very soap opera-esque but it was so much fun to write! i have a little thing i’d like to write for a part 3 but it is very much domesticity and sadness so we’ll see hehe <3

read part one here.

18+. mdni. smut. mentions of drugs and crime references throughout. eddie munson x fem!reader

eddie lingers over your shoulder, catching glimpses of him in the mirror as you fluff your hair and pucker your lips. he likes to sit and watch you get ready, just like how he used to watch his mom when he was much younger.

“so where are you going tonight?” he queries, a hint of territoriality about his question.

you shrug, swiping the lipgloss over your lips, “probably ace’s.. i don’t know yet,” meeting his eyes through the mirror.

admittedly, it had been a tough few weeks. he shut down for a few days, restricted to his bed as you cleaned up the mess he brought home. you were just grateful to have eddie back, the colour slowly coming back to his face thanks to your gentle love.

“i’ll take you,” arms snaking around your waist, “unless you wanna stay?” peppering kisses to your neck, the sweet scents of your overzealous sprits of perfume overwhelming his nose.

you giggle, though you make zero effort to shake him off, “i’m going,” wrapping your hand around his arm to keep it from travelling any further up your dress.

a tiny sense of guilt hits your chest, he was still shaken by whatever had happened. you’d practically moved yourself into his apartment, taking care of him for weeks. he’d rarely been alone since the day he’d stumbled in here with bloody hands and a newfound stammer.

“okay,” he relents, “what time do you think you’ll be done? i’ll come and get you,” face nestled into the crook of your neck.

you wouldn’t put it past him to just wait outside for hours, ready and waiting to see you again.

“why don’t you just come? i’m sure the girls won’t mind.”

he shakes his head, planting one last kiss to your shoulder before letting go, “no no.. you have fun,” nodding, as if to assure himself that he’d be fine.

eddie drives you right to the door, ignoring the disgruntled bouncers trying to get him to move. “don’t do anything stupid, i’ll be here when you’re ready,” squeezing your knee as you gather your bag from the floor.

you lean over the leather console, pecking his lips, leaving a small smudge of glittery gloss as you go.

“yessir.. love you,” before clambering out of the car, knowing smile plastered across your face as the door shuts.

there had been a sense of uncertainty about saying it, though you’d felt it for a short while now. only solidified by the last couple of weeks and the newfound upset you felt to be leaving him. it was like all your feelings were merged into one, dread bundled together with excitement. a scary but otherwise comforting feeling.

he immediately rolls your window down, leaning forward to catch you properly, “what? what’d you say?”

you shrug, scampering off into the queue as he watches, mouth hung open in sheer shock.

what you didn’t know was that eddie had been toying with the same sentiment, adamant to not scare you away but otherwise desperate to tell you.

he pulls off, beaming from ear to ear, counting down the seconds until he sees you again.

you perch on the marble countertop, legs swinging as eddie accidentally brushes past for the thousandth time, hand lingering on your thigh for a few seconds too long. the pot threatening to boil over if he keeps neglecting it in lieu of you.

“why’re you looking at me like that?” he asks, resuming his position at the stovetop.

he’d carefully perfected his little chef routine, throwing god knows what into the pan as if he had any clue what he was doing.

“i just can’t believe that you’re cooking for me.. have you ever even used this kitchen before?” chuckling at him, wishing he had gone all out and worn an apron.

“what the hell are you talking about? i cook all the time,” smooth talking, attempting to distract you from the near burnt pan of food in front of him.

“i don’t believe you,” you tease, glancing wearily at your supposed dinner. knowing damn well that he’d be on his way to pick something up in the next half an hour.

he leaves his station, faux-angry stare on his face as he leans on your knees, “you won’t be having any of this if you’re gonna keep being rude.”

the buzzer interrupts before you can insult his skill, or lack thereof, any longer.

eddie frowns towards the door, “i’ll get it,” trying hard to palm the cooking onto you.

“no no,” you hop down from the counter, “you try not to burn anything else and i’ll get it,” already out of the kitchen before he can protest.

the door opens to a man you’ve never seen before, glasses and crazy hair accompanying his toothy grin. those two goons eddie has to babysit sometimes are stood behind, looking as foolish as ever with their hands over their chests.

“ah! just the woman i wanted to see,” he beams, pointing into the apartment, “can i come in?”

“i’m sorry- who are you?”

but before the maniacal man can answer, eddie begins from behind, “let him in,” voice full of regret, you had wished you’d never hear it again.

you open the door wider, watching as they file in to the apartment. dumb and dumber barely able to walk on their own two feet without tripping over each other.

your eyes meet eddie’s but you can’t place whatever it is he’s trying to say. a look of warning maybe, hesitance and slight fear in his usually soft eyes. you’d figured it was something to do with his work, maybe the scene you had walked into those few weeks ago.

“have a seat,” the man smiles, gesturing towards the sofa.

they sit strategically, boxing you into the empty seat in between those two idiots. forcing you apart, a twisted mind game you wanted no part of.

eddie looks wracked with worry, sitting in the empty seat next to the other man. you want to jump up, order them to leave and do this some other time.

“i’m murray,” the man announces, staring right into your soul, “i work with eddie here.. for.. what is it? seven years now?” thumping eddie on the back.

he nods, chewing on his lower lip, choosing to stare at the floorboards rather than you, which stings a little.

“anyway! i didn’t come to small talk, i’m sure you two are very busy with whatever it is you young people do in your free time,” murray scrunches his nose, returning his heavy gaze to you. “i have a problem, you see, i’m a salesman, i sell things and to sell things, i have to get my product to different places,” nodding along with his words.

your eyes flit between him and eddie, figuring out exactly what he was asking.

“so,” he begins again, leaning forward, elbows pressed to his knees, “i need you to take it there,” not looking at eddie or either of the two losers beside you.

you. he was looking at you.

eddie interjects, “no, absolutely not,” jaw clenched taut, his fists balled by his sides.

“i didn’t ask you,” murray spits back.

you can see eddie’s chest heaving, anger bubbling through his body.

“where?”

their eyes fall back to you, eddie blinking rapidly. it’s like he can’t believe you’d ever agree to something so stupid.

“well all you’d have to do is take.. a bag down to.. mexico.”

“-mexico?” eddie interrupts again, jumping forward in his seat.

murray’s face turns to confusion, “is that not what i said? jeff! is that not what i said?”

jeff nods along, “that’s what you said,” like a creepy puppet doll, obeying his master.

“she can’t.. mexico, murray? that’s too far-”

“and why can’t she, eddie?” turning to face your boyfriend, a stern glare plastered firmly on his face, “i’m not hearing any objections from her, so what’s your problem?”

eddie looks up, catching your eye, chewing on the inside of his cheek. he’s swallowing whatever objection he has contained on his tongue. but you’re not stupid.

you either do this or your life gets very complicated, you’d seen enough movies to know that men like murray don’t fuck around.

“okay,” you say meekly, holding eddie’s gaze in hope that he’ll understand, that he knows you well enough now to know that you’re agreeing for both of your sakes.

“great,” murray beams, “my cousin has an apartment down there, you can stay a few days.. enjoy the scenery, whatever i don’t care,” ignoring eddie’s huffs of defiance.

you don’t remember a lot of what he says next, talking about the drop and other insignificant details. eddie volunteers to head down before you, wait for you in mexico to ensure everything goes to plan, which you appreciate.

they get up to leave while you’re still sat weighing up your decision and how badly this could end. eddie walks them to the door, glad to see them gone.

murray yanks him out of the door, tight grip onto his arm, “you wanna buy her a nice shiny ring?” glowering directly into his face, “or a big house so you can knock her up a couple’a times before you give this all up? hmm?”

eddie swallows, adams apple bobbing nervously in his throat. but nods, because he does want that. it’s all he’s wanted since he met you.

“then you’ll do whatever i tell you to do, okay?” face only mere inches away, “this is how you get those things.”

eddie doesn’t say a word as he stomps back in, heading straight for his bedroom without so much as a glance toward you.

his cold shoulder cuts deep, wedging a lump into your throat. you did this for him, for both of you. it wasn’t as if you had much choice between going to mexico or losing eddie.

you creep into the silent room what felt like hours later, heart aching for just a hint of reassurance.

he’s sat on the bed, facing the window, back to the door. you don’t want to startle him but feel absolute desperation to talk to him.

“eddie?” speaking quietly into the room.

he sighs, shoulders relaxing at the sound of your voice.

“i’m sorry if i said the wrong thing.. i was just trying to help,” blinking away the sharp tears threatening to spill.

you linger in the doorway, wary of the thick cloud of tension that had settled over the apartment.

“i’m not.. angry at you,” standing at last, turning to face after an eternity apart. he slinks over, ashamed of his own actions, he had never wanted to make you feel like this. “i didn’t want you to get involved in all this shit,” shaking his head as he walks over, throwing his arms around your sunken shoulders, “i don’t wanna lose you.”

you rest your cheek on his chest, slinging your arms tight around his waist, “you’re not going to,” and you meant it.

- eddie’s pov -

eddie has nearly thrown up at least twenty times since he’d left you for the airport.

he was going to land in mexico a couple hours before you hopefully arrived.

the plane journey is long, his only thoughts being you. if you were safe. if you’d made it onto the plane or not. watching the clock, waiting to just land and be one step closer to knowing.

murray had swindled his friend into letting you stay at his place for a few days, a large villa not too far from the airport. it’s warm and he’s sweating through his clothes, dumping his bag on the floor without a care in the world.

stepping out onto the balcony and lighting a cigarette whilst simultaneously trying his hardest not to hyperventilate. you should be on the plane by now, somewhere 3000 miles above, safe and sound.

squishing all of the echoing thoughts of what if or the images of you in a cell somewhere in mexico. it does nothing for the churning in his stomach, tossing the half-finished cigarette off into the distance somewhere.

eddie is restless, buzzing around the house as he waits rather impatiently for you to waltz through the door.

you should be here by now. the blazing sun finally setting in the sky, though he’s still sweating.

the clock ticks loudly, as if it were taunting him. every second you’re not here, he descends further into his despair, heart pounding as he paces the creaking floorboards.

a short wrap at the door makes him jump but he wastes no time in answering it, throwing the door open to find a strangely docile and calm version of you. polar opposite to how he had spent the last few hours.

“oh my god,” breathing a sigh of relief, unable to stop himself from lifting you from the ground, spinning around the warm evening air as you shriek.

you’re still elevated when he puckers his lips, attacking any skin he could get ahold of. a chorus of high pitched squeals and giggles coming from above, sending his heart into a frenzy.

“put me down,” you order, whacking him on the back, right between the shoulder blades.

he does as he’s told, still clinging onto your waist, fearing you’ll just slip away again. he felt a thousand pounds lighter, to see you, hold you again after only a few hours.

“you’re okay? how was it? did anyone stop you?” going a million miles at once, keeping you at arms length as he examines your face.

“it was fine,” you chuckle, your nonchalance a little unsettling, “nobody even looked at me,” shrugging your shoulders as if you hadn’t just smuggled a kilo of cocaine over the border.

“jesus christ,” eddie exhales, cupping your cheek in his hand, “you’re not doing that again, i’ll kill him if he asks,” he thinks he might just kill him anyway. his heart had nearly given out a hundred times, hell would freeze over before he ever let murray do something so stupid again.

“okay okay,” you brush past eddie, fed up already of his incessant coddling, marvelling at the view outside the apartment.

he slings your bag over his shoulder, joining you at the window, “nice, isn’t it?” knocking his elbow gently into your side.

he’d already envisioned how he would have you bent over the balcony later.

“let’s go out tonight,” looking toward him with your sparkly eyes, “i want to celebrate not getting arrested.”

eddie’s head lulls to the side, trying to hide his disappointment. “do we have to?” grabbing your waist to pull you closer, brazenly attempting to get you to stay here.

“yes,” you order, palms flat on his chest, “if you love me, you’ll go.”

you’re squished into the tiny booth, legs draped over eddies thighs as people come and go all around. he’s not interested in anything else going on in the busy bar, just you.

sharing lazy kisses between drinks, his hand resting on your thigh, ever so slowly inching upwards.

eddie hadn’t even wanted to leave the house, hoping you’d spend three days fucking your way around the furniture.

instead, you’d somehow convinced him to go out. though he couldn’t resist when you stepped out with that tiny dress on, sitting perfectly on your hips.

your nose brushes against his, breathing in the thick air that sat between you. the room could very well be ablaze right now, but eddie wouldn’t even notice. too consumed with you, palming at the inside of your thigh as his eyes gaze into yours.

“‘m gonna get a drink,” he breathes, squeezing your thigh before shifting your legs back to the floor.

he dares to look back when he reaches the bar, eyes immediately drawn to the six foot something adonis now lingering by the booth.

eddie wasn’t particularly jealous or insecure, secure in the fact that you were his and nothing would change that. but he couldn’t help but let a little envy seep into his eyes.

a fire burning in his stomach at the sight of you chittering away to this stranger. you weren’t a stranger to attention, not one to shy away. so why should you now?

he grits his teeth on the walk back over, grip tightening around the glasses, prepared to smash them over this pricks head.

“who’s this?” painting on his fakest smile, sliding back into the booth next to you.

you glance at eddie, just long enough for him to see that terrible glint in your eye. preparing for trouble.

“this is..” reaching out for the strangers arm, “sorry, what was your name again?” batting your lashes, an act eddie was used to and yet, still detested.

“alejandro,” the man purrs, taking your hand in his.

eddie resists the urge to jump across the table and wring his neck. biting on his cheek rather than letting what he really wants to say out.

“alejandro,” you echo, all starry eyed.

he’s not going to play up to it, well aware that you don’t actually give a shit about the chiseled man. you just want a reaction from eddie, maybe throw his weight around a little so you could reward him later.

you look back at eddie, pouting a little when he doesn’t give you what you want. confusion plagues your expression before you quickly drop the man’s hand, displeased with the reaction, or lack thereof, you had been given so far.

“it was nice to meet you,” eddie nods, shooing him away without so much as a look at you.

he slinks away, leaving the two of you sat in uncomfortable silence. taking careful sips of his drink, calculating his next move as he was sure you would also be doing.

“d’you wanna go home?” you pry, attempting to snake your arm around his though he doesn’t budge.

“do you?”

your eyes flash with hurt only momentarily until a lightbulb flickers and you realise getting him home means one step closer to getting what you’re fiending after.

“yeah.”

eddie nods, standing from the booth, “lets go then,” more so barking his order rather than asking.

and you’d follow along like a dumb little dog because the result was always always worth the temporary wait.

eddie’s a smart man, at least sometimes.

he’s wise to your games and refuses to rise to it. flopping onto the bed, watching as you dance around the room, antsy and eager for his reaction.

his hands are itching to touch you, enjoying every last second of you flitting about, the anxious eye contact as you get ready for bed.

you’ve just about had enough when he doesn’t react to your new pyjamas. not even a nod of acknowledgement. nada. nothing.

“eds,” you huff, jutting your bottom lip out as far as it’ll go, “is that it? you’re not even gonna talk to me?”

he pulls his eyes from the window, containing his smirk. you’re putty in his hands and you don’t even know it, falling right into his trap.

“what? i’m talking to you right now?”

the mattress dips as you climb on top, “you’re being weird.”

“i’m not being weird?”

your nostrils flare, tired of his silly little act. taking matters into your own hands by clambering onto his lap, perching atop of his thighs.

“stop being a dick and touch me,” you pout, practically begging for an inch of his attention. your hands grab onto his, placing them on your waist in an attempt to make him do something.

eddie weighs up his options, deciding that pushing your buttons one last time would make everything all the more worthwhile.

he lets his arms flop back into the bed, sighing softly, “baby, i’m tired,” jutting his chin to the sky, urging himself to not just toss you onto the bed and pound you into the mattress.

he hadn’t anticipated your reaction, climbing from his legs to stand beside him, “maybe alejandro would touch me,” you spit, turning to stomp out of the room as if he wouldn’t chase you to the ends of the earth.

eddie jumps up, bounding after you to grab your waist, pulling you back toward the bed with a squeak.

“too fuckin’ bad he’s not going to then, isn’t it?” pinning you between his body and the mattress. “you gonna stop being a little bitch?”

he hates that you’re not even mad, wild eyes glinting in the dim light, as you nod, chewing on your bottom lip.

“huh? you gone shy on me all of a sudden?”

your head shakes, stars in your eyes and absolutely any thought drained from your pretty little head. “beg for it,” he barks, nose just barely brushing against yours.

“please,” you gulp, fire burning in your stomach, at mercy to his touch.

eddie stands up straight, pulling your body down the bed by the legs, hips banging against your heat, groaning at the contact.

“hmm,” he hums, manoeuvring your thighs onto his shoulders, “i can’t hear you sweetheart,” palming at the doughy skin as his hands trail upwards.

“please eddie,” you whine, guiding his hands back down, aching for them to slide between your legs. “i need you,” rutting your hips with every grope and grab he allows.

his boxers strain against your silky pyjama shorts, the utter desperation dripping from your throat makes him crazy, electricity buzzing through his bloodstream.

he’s addicted to you. the way you feel, the way you smell, the way your body keens and melts for him.

“fuck,” lips vibrating against your neck, “stop playing those stupid games with me,” though quite honestly, he did enjoy the little chase routine you guys had curated.

you nod, arching your hips to allow him to slip your shorts down, working them down and off onto the floor. his hands slithering back up over the soft skin until his hand rests comfortably on your thigh.

eddie would love to toy around with you a little bit longer but his dick was starting to ache against his boxers with every not-so-subtle move of your hips.

he stands up straight, tugging the cotton down his thighs, the elastic resting just beneath his heavy balls.

his fingers slide between your slick folds, disappearing inside your cunt, pulling the strangled moan from your lips with every dip of his fingers.

“look at you,” he purrs, though he knows you’ll make no effort to actually look, “so pretty for me,” admiring your pussy, pupils near enough heart shaped.

his knees dig into the mattress, hovering above as his fingers grip onto your hips, sinking in to your cunt with a hoarse groan.

you cry out, grateful for him giving you what you had begged for at long last. hands flailing about for something to grab, fingers twisting around the soft cotton blanket, pulling the sheets from the bed.

eddie’s hands roam all over, palming your breasts and then back down to your calves, keeping them firmly balanced on his chest.

“fuck baby,” he coos, forcing himself to go slow, savour the feeling. you’re insatiable like this, sprawled out on the mattress, head thrown back, full of nothing.

hand disappearing between your legs as his thumb circles your neglected clit, watchful eyes lapping up your every move your body makes in response to him.

he’d never believed in all that soulmate shit before meeting you but now he couldn’t fathom the idea of ever being with anyone other than you. two people made to fit together by some grace of god.

your thighs cramp around his wrist, keeping his hand firmly there while you writhe around.

your eyes squeeze shut, eddie can already feel you clench around him, “you gonna cum already?” he teases, what kind of boyfriend would he be if not to mock you.

“n-no,” you gasp, fingers intertwined with the white sheets surrounding your head.

the headboard knocks gently against the wall with every thrust of his hips, the cool midnight breeze seeping in through the open window though it does nothing to stop eddie’s brow from sweating.

you snap, coming undone all around him, melodic moans filling the room, somewhere tangled between his low grunts and the filthy sounds of your bodies meeting.

“good girl,” he coos, reaching up to hold your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look up at him.

your eyes glossy with tears, lips puffy and swollen when your hand wraps around his wrist, struggling to hold eye contact as his thrusts continue.

biting down on your bottom lip, becoming a puddle of nothingness right before his eyes.

“sh-shit,” you mewl, his thumb still circling your clit, pulling you straight back to orgasm.

eddie leans over, pressing his dripping chest to yours as his hand slinks down to your neck, loosely squeezing the skin all while your lips meet in a hazy, messy kiss.

“one more.. for me,” he pants into your mouth, burying himself inside of your cunt, filled to the hilt.

only responding with a drawn out wail, clinging onto his cheeks for a little levity. his cock nudging your sweet spot. tipping you closer and closer to the edge once more.

“fu-uck,” you pant, sucking on his bottom lip. he can feel you tighten around him, thighs drawing him in. “cum in me,” babbling nonsense into his mouth.

there’s no way he can think clearly, too utterly lovesick with your pussy for any critical thought to seep in. it was a bad idea, his gut told him as much.

but at the end of it all, he’d give you what you wanted. no matter what.

“you want that? hmm?” breathing through his teeth.

your head nods enthusiastically, bleary eyes meeting again, sweat mixing with your tears of overstimulation and exhaustion.

disgusting and erotic all at once.

eddie can feel your legs begin to quiver around him, pretty little mouth falling slack, threatening to swallow him whole.

“ohmygod,” you rush, chest heaving rapidly as your eyes flutter shut.

eddie near enough chokes on the thick air, a pitiful final few thrusts before filling your cunt. a decision he’d regret in the morning but made perfect sense for right now.

he grunts, the air knocked from his lungs at the immense, earth-shattering feel of you and your body enveloping him.

tendrils of his hair come loose from the haphazard bun he had thrown up, covering your pretty, dewy face.

“‘s that what you wanted?” balancing carefully on his elbows, carefully brushing your hair from your sticky forehead.

“yes,” grinning wearily, your hand gentle as it now lay on his cheek.

“you’re gonna be the death of me, y’know?”

“mhm,” you hum in agreement, fingers delicately weaving into his hair, “just don’t die before we get married.”

his smile fades, fingers poised as they tuck your hair behind your ear, “are you saying you wanna get married?” completely prepared to slide down onto one knee right here and now.

your nail traces carefully over the scar on his cheek, gazing lovingly into his eyes, “obviously,” pausing momentarily, “you still have to ask me properly though.”

eddie’s laugh bubbles over, burying his face into your chest, wondering how long after this conversation he’d have to wait to ask and just how much he couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life right here, next to you.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff

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steleir · 3 days

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ꔫ MY LOVE, IS MINE ALL MINE ଓ. itoshi rin never loved anyone ever since what his brother did, always guarding his fragile heart with an iron fist, until you come along and ruin everything.

ׅ 𓈒 ⁺ ꔫ 0.8k wc ଓ : fem! reader x itoshi rin, fluff, friends to lovers, mentions of fights, injuries, not proofread, lemme know if i missed any.

when it came to love, rin was fundamentally a fool. on top of that, he was a coward. love wasn't his passion, nor was it on his bucket list. at least, not since what happened with his brother, love was never an option. love and get your heart broken again; don't love and stay the same. rin and referred to the latter always.

it was a sort of unspoken rule to himself, that he wouldn't love. maybe once he beats his brother, or maybe not. he honestly didn't care, nor did he think about it much, until his mother would bug him about it.

but then you came along, as though the devil, and you absolutely ruined it all.

yet no matter how he likes to think of you, there was no denying that he was in love, infatuated even. you we’re all he needed. but how could he possibly admit that?

part of him hates you for that—how you just barged through the gates that guarded his fragile heart, which was still trying to fix itself no matter how hard he tried to convince himself that he was okay now. that he fixed himself.

“you’re an idiot, you know that, itoshi rin?” you asked as you disinfected his injury, making him hiss and the feeling. he simply looked at you blankly, like he always did when both managed to end up in your bathroom with you bandaging him up after his nth fight of the week. “it’s worse this time.” you stated, looking at him with teary eyes. “rin, you're going to get yourself seriously hurt,” you said as he brought up his thumb to wipe away the tear that slowly fell down your face. “i promise i won't get into another one,” he mumbled, an obvious lie, one you could see right through, but he needed to say something.

“you said that last time, asshole.” you grumbled while rolling your eyes. he hated when you did that; he hated when you were mad at him; he didn’t know why exactly, but he hated it. it made his heart throb. you looked pretty with your teary eyes and the bright pink tint that covered your cheeks and nose, but he still hated it.

“right,” you said, getting back on your feet and wiping away the remaining tears. “i’m done. you can leave now and get into another fight i don’t care.” you shrugged and walked out of your bathroom, leaving it messy with the bandages and cotton lying on the floor and some scattered on the toilet where rin had sat.

“i don’t want to; i want to stay here for a bit,” he said, and you turned slightly. “i said i don’t care.” you repeated your past words, and the tall boy walked towards you, easily towering over you. “why are you so mad?” he raised his brow, holding your wrist tightly. “because i care about you, rin. i don’t know if

one day you're going to show up to my house with a broken limb and bleeding everywhere because you're so easily provoked by people!” you yelled, your eyes quickly tearing up again. “and i don’t like that thought; i don’t like seeing you hurt.”

“sorry,” he mumbled, averting his eyes from yours.

in that moment, he felt like he could just pull you into a kiss for eternity. no one’s ever cared for him like this. you took a deep breath, staring into his intimidating eyes, waiting for a thought on what to do next to pop up. rin hesitated as he opened his mouth to speak, this was probably the worst time to confess, right? definitely. but this is itoshi rin we’re talking about here, he doesn’t exactly care. he held your other wrist as he looked you in the eyes, hoping you’d get the sign, waiting for a sort of green light.

you nodded slowly, and his lips quickly smashed against your own. time seemed to stop in the moment, it was just you and him, like it has been for the past few years. his mouth moved quickly and sloppily against yours, was getting greedy. his hands held your waist softly, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer than was even possible.

your lips are so soft; you know how long i’ve been waiting for this?

slowly he pulled away and straightened his back, completely quiet. he looked at you shyly. “i love you.” he murmured as low as a whisper, but you still managed to hear. before he knew it he was trapped in a hug “for the longest time.”

you didn’t say anything, only hugging him and letting some tears race down your cheeks.

you two stayed like that for a while, complete silence; you had all the time in the world.

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ironunderstands · 13 hours

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These Aventurine, Topaz and Jade comparisons are getting out of hand…

As much as I adore both of them, I think it’s very disingenuous to compare Aventurine and Topaz’s lore and be like “but they are the same!!!! If people like Aventurine and dislike Topaz that’s just misogyny!!! and like… no?

Topaz’s whole thing is that she doesn’t know the extent of the IPC’s evil, and believes that what she’s doing is genuinely the right thing to do. Even if she never had a choice in joining the IPC, she (incorrectly) believes what they did to her and her planet is justified, logical and moral, and for those reasons she stands with them. Part of this is likely IPC brainwashing, as she was probably very young when she became an indentured servant to them, and someone living on a planet on the brink of destruction would likely view anyone who stepped up to save them as heroes (imo the IPC likely waited for the point of no return to establish contact so her people had no other choice to except).

However Topaz got best end of the proverbial stick, her planet and its people were deemed useful by the IPC, and didn’t fight back, even if in the end they were still exploited.

Unfortunately, we have seen through Boothill, Belabog and Aventurine what happens when that isn’t the case.

Boothill’s planet got bombed and people genocided because they had a resource useful to the IPC, but were unwilling to cooperate with them or hand over their home, so the IPC decided to eradicate them.

Belabog had a debt owed to the IPC that was ridiculously high and very unfair to expect them to pay back, and had Topaz not convinced the higher ups to give them some time (which she got demoted for), the IPC would have taken Belabog by force

That leaves us with Aventurine, whose story is in no way on the same level of bad as Topaz’s. Unlike her, he has witnessed and experienced firsthand the truly awful shit the IPC can do.

They took custody of Sigonia and promised to offer the Avgin aid in their fight against the Katacans, at the very least protect them from harm. (Sidenote, since the IPC held control over Sigonia, they should have stopped the fighting in the first place). However, they simply stood by and did nothing, resulting in the deaths of around 6,000 Avgin, with around 3,000 went missing (or injured, I don’t remember, either way it’s bad).

But wait! It gets worse! Aventurine when he was still known as Kakavasha referred to the IPC as “the men in black/the men in black suits”, and his first master says he bought Aventurine from “the men in black/the men in black suits”, likely mocking the way he referred to them. Therefore THE IPC TOOK PART AND LIKELY EVEN CREATED A FUCKING SLAVE TRADE IN SIGONIA

Look being made into an indentured servant isn’t fun, but idk personally I’d take that any day of the week OVER BEING ENSLAVED

That’s not even to mention how horrible of a reputation Sigonian’s have in the galaxy, one likely spread by/resulting from the IPC themselves, as at least on Aventurines planet they do not have the mobility to make a name for themselves. (Honestly it’s a mini theory of mine that Aventurines scam is what partly contributed to this reputation, and his status as a slave is something the IPC conveniently left out in their broadcast about it-)

But, you might be saying, didn’t Aventurine have a choice to join the masked fools and leave the IPC, isn’t he free now? And to that I say, it’s complicated.

Considering the amount of suicidal shit Aventurine has done while being part of the IPC, he clearly hasn’t been having a fun time as a member of one, so why does he stick around, especially with the Fools invite? Even if he was a slave, does that absolve him of the crimes he’s committing now? What could justify his actions?

Revenge, plan and simple.

This is going to delve into some spoiler territory for the end of the Penacony 2.2 quest, something which I didn’t feel like mentioning earlier because I’m sorry but everyone and their mother already knows Boothill’s lore. Now, let’s get into it.

Aventurine accepts Jades offer to join the IPC, and when he becomes a Stoneheart, the first thing he asks about is the fate of the Avgin, to which he then learns that besides him, they are all dead. You see, from birth Kakavasha was pushed onto a pedestal as the savior of the Avgin, but now that there are no more Avgin to save, his primary motivator in becoming a Stoneheart (beyond not being enslaved anymore) is gone.

So what does he do now?

Simple, try to kill the motherfuckers behind it.

That’s why he takes on such risky gambles still, and why he wagers and wants Diamond to promote him to rank p46. The higher Aventurine gets the closer he gets to his goal of taking down the IPC for good.

Which is why his meeting with Boothill is so meaningful. I think Boothill is going to “kidnap” him and together they are gonna take down the wicked bitch that is Oswaldo Schneider for his literal crimes against humanity.

Mark my words, an IPC downfall is going to happen, and I think Topaz, Aventurine, Boothill and Ratio are going to be at the forefront of it.

However, Topaz and Ratio (and by extension the rest of the galaxy) have to learn/realize the true horrors of the IPC (although I can sense Ratio doesn’t really like them, and he’s learned a lot from Aventurine, I doubt he knows the full extent of the situation or is in any way happy about it). Therefore? Topaz mental breakdown arc? Ratio lore? PLEASE??!? The IP3 compliment one another so well and god I can’t wait for that to come to fruition.

I really want to see a Topaz and Ratio centered story leading up to an IPC smackdown, and I think we are gonna learn a lot more about how shitty they are in the later half of 2.2 and in 2.3 when the interlude and Jades release arrive.

As for the aforementioned Jade, she’s gonna need a Aventurine squared amount of trauma or reasoning behind her actions to seem in any way sympathetic, because right now she just seems like an evil bitch (in a semi good way, I will always respect the commitment to the bit) who loves her job and would make Machiavelli weep over how hard her ends are trying to justify her means.

#honkai star rail #dr ratio #aventurine #topaz #ip3 #aventiopaz #its not necessarily a ship post it’s just these three are an inseparable unit made perfectly for one another and should kiss #Anyways I can’t fucking wait for future updates #DOWN WITH THE IPC we all screamed #jade hsr #2.3 is gonna be peak #2.2 spoilers #boothill #Also this has made me like avenhill #Avenhill #Kill those cunts!

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calliopesdiary · 2 days

Text

“you’re too sweet for me” part two

read part 1 here!

wc: 693

summary; you partially own your mums coffee & flower shop, so it’s no secret that you’d have a little (big) work crush on a boy whom you only know from his signature on the receipts.

ships; poly!marauders x fem!barista!reader

contents; mild language, sirius is a flirt, slight gilmore girls reference

*ring, ring.*

“hello?”

“hey, darling.”

oh gods… that familiar voice… he called you… didn’t he?

“o-oh, hi.”

“you sound surprised, was i not supposed to call the cute girl who works at my favorite coffee shop?”

fuck, here comes the blush.

“i-i just.. didn’t expect you to want too.”

“well, i did want too.”

you could almost hear his cocky grin.

“so, since we’re calling, i was just wondering if we could go out sometime? just casual, getting to know eachother?”

he sounded so confident.

“m-me? you want to go out with.. me?”

“you are the person i’m asking, love.”

“…”

“so.. is that a yes—“

“yes! yes! i mean— sure… that sounds…. fun?”

“great— oh! and i’m sure you won’t mind my boyfriends joining, hm?”

“boyfriends…? fuck! i knew he wasn’t single—“

“they’d like to get to know you as much as i would.”

“… they would?”

“mmmhm.”

“that’s fine.”

“perfect, i’ll pick you up from the shop at eight, will your mum mind?”

“i don’t think so— no.”

“perfect, see you then. love.”

“s-see you!”

“…mum!!! i’ve got a date with my favorite customer.”

you raced upstairs.

shaking your nerves out was a bit more difficult than it seemed, you had dreamed of this moment ever since Sirius had merely stepped into your shop.

though you never expected to go on a date with him and his two boyfriends.

"what's the hand shaking for, sweetheart?" your mum lovingly placed her hands on your shoulders to try and ease any anxiety.

"mum... its not... just Sirius."

"Oh, is it those two other boys aswell?"

"...how do you know about Remus and James?"

"They come into the florist section of the shop every saturday to purchase flowers for Sirius.

"Oh."

"Sweetie, you do not need to be nervous. you look so beautiful."

"thanks, mum."

You smiled sweetly up to your mum, before you heard a knock on the door of your apartment.

"Go get em', sweetie."

you smiled back at her, as you turned the door knob anxiously.

"hi, Sirius.'

"Hi... y-y/n"

poor thing might've been just as nervous as you were.

"y-you look... very nice..."

he smiled.

"thank you."

"Remus and James are in the car, are you ready to go?"

you nodded lightly, and he led you to the car. you felt your stomach flutter as he opened the car door for you, motioning for you to get in.

you were sat next to Remus, he put his book down and greeted you politely.

"you look lovely, Y/N."

"thank you, Remus. so do you."

you could tell James was nervous, he smiled back to you and complimented your looks.

after a small debate on where to go and what to do, you ultimately decided on going to an old library (you loved reading, so it was up your alley)

the date was so lovely, it almost felt like you guys had known eachother for years.

was it just your imagination? or did they really like you back? was it too good to be true? you couldn't decide, and you found yourself dreading the date ever ending.

but all things come to an end, but hopefully this was the start of something life changing.

you pulled into your apartments parking lot, and you were helped out of the car by James.

"it was lovely, tonight."

he smiled at your slightly flustered expression.

"i really enjoyed it..."

you met his gaze, and you yearned for more than just eye contact.

you stopped at your front door, he faced you with a slight blush on his face.

"..can i kiss you?"

"James-"

"please?"

"o-okay..."

he leaned down, pressing his plump lips against your soft ones. basking in the glory of finally kissing you.

his lips tasted like straight heaven, and his hand crept to the small of your back. leaning into your lips until you both broke off.

"t-thank you..."

he chuckled softly at your chosen words.

"have a goodnight, love."

he smiled, and left you at the front door.

suddenly, your mum swung the door open, causing you to jolt.

"mum!"

"you said thank you? sweetheart he kissed you, don't say thank you."

taglist~ @wednesdaynn @imobsessedwitholiviarodrigo @here-am-i-sitting-in-a-tin-can @glamourbabe17 @carolinexkpop @imdoingbetternow @wildwild64 @ellecdc @messylxve

#marauders era #fem!reader #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #marauders #poly!marauders x reader #fanfiction #barista!reader #calliopes stories

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ohdeerfully · 2 days

Text

Mutual Dilemma (ii)

Alastor x Reader part i part ii(you are here!) TW: None! Other than a pretty ooc alastor (,:

join my discord!

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Morning couldn’t come slower as you anticipated the trip to Rosie’s Emporium. You managed to get a few licks of sleep throughout the night, though nerves kept waking you. As soon as the time was reasonable, not too early as you worried to bother Rosie if you came right as she opened her shop, you quickly got ready and left the Hotel. You gave brief excuses as you hurried by Charlie and a few of the other guests lingering in the lobby—Alastor was notably gone.

“Welcome t- Oh! Hey you!” Rosie’s thrilled voice filled the Emporium as a light bell dingled when you pushed the door open. She swept you up in a tight hug, trapping your arms uncomfortably against your sides as you breathlessly laughed and said your own greetings.

She held you out from herself, both hands firmly planted on your shoulders. You noticed a strange look in her expression—a light quirk in her brow and a sly curve to her smile that implied she knew something important.

“How lucky to see two of my dearest friends in the same 24 hours,” She sighed theatrically, and you knew she had to be referring to Alastor—just the demon you were here to talk to her about. She was, unsurprisingly, able to pick up on your uncomfortable demeanor and her smile dropped into a comforting grin as she led you away to a table against the wall.

“Rosie,” You groaned after sitting, putting your forehead against the cool wood and covering your head with your arms. “I’m so fucked.”

The Overlord held one of your hands softly and comfortably, encouraging you to continue but remaining otherwise quiet.

“You’re going to call me nuts, and don’t worry I already know, but, I, ah,” You grimaced. Saying it out loud was somehow even harder than accepting it within yourself. “I think I really… really like Alastor. Like I want to kiss him.”

Rosie’s hand tightened briefly against yours and you heard her intake a sharp breath while her other hand flew to cover her mouth. You turned your head so your cheek was flat against the wood as you peeked up at her. You couldn’t tell if she was smiling or not behind her hand.

“An odd place to be, certainly,” She nodded after a minute, though a small smile remained. You released a breath when you were certain she wasn’t about to laugh at you or scold you for being so stupid as to be attracted to Alastor. She stood up, pulling you along so that you stood next to her. Her hand still held yours, lifting it and cusping her other hand around it. “These feelings are normal, I think. I mean, look at all the cannibals in town that constantly swoon over him! He’s positively charming—I couldn’t blame ya! Though I have… the strangest feeling you have nothing to worry about.”

What a weird thing to say, you frowned curiously at her words, but your thoughts were cut short as you saw her expression perk with an idea she refused to share. You didn’t like when she got that sly look in her black eyes.

“I have a few errands to run, but why don’t you meet me for lunch later? At the diner down the street.”

You nodded and the two of you shared another hug before you left. You crossed your fingers the whole way back to the hotel that you wouldn’t run into Alastor.

◈

Right, that’s what ended you up here. It seems crossing your fingers means absolutely nothing in Hell. You stood frozen, hand violently clenched into a fist against your thigh. Across from you, just a few feet past the wire table, stood Alastor, a similarly shocked look in his eyes though he somehow managed to look more relaxed. You pinned it on the decade of manipulation in Hell that trained him to look so natural in weird situations.

“What an unexpected pleasure to see you here,” Within a blink he was back to his usual demeanor, approaching you with a pleasant tone; the radio effect in his voice was heavier than usual, which you knew was usually caused by stress or frustration on his part. You decided not to think too hard about the fact he was upset at seeing you in a desperate attempt to protect your heart.

“I’m… I was gonna get lunch with Rosie,” You explained, trying not to cower underneath his looming figure. Did he do this on purpose? Loom?

Alastor tilted his head at you, quirking a brow. “Curious, I was too.”

You both didn’t say anything for a moment. Your mouth opened to say something, but you honestly weren’t sure what to say so you just closed it again.

A familiar cannibal demon—you thought you recognized her as an aid in Rosie’s Emporium—bustled up to the two of you and threw out her arm, manicured nails nearly pinching holes into the paper. Her hands shook slightly as she held her head low, casting a few glances Alastor’s way. It was endearing, almost, the effect he held on all the equally deranged cannibals in the town. Though, you suppose you weren’t any better than them at this point.

“Thanks, Remi,” Her name came to you in a stroke of luck as you took the note. She nodded and scampered away with a light squeal, and you noticed a small huddle of girls waiting for her return with expectantly bated breaths. You heard them all run off giggling as you read the note.

“It’s from Rosie…” You explained in a slight mumble as your eyes trailed over the paper. Your lips spread into a thin line as you grimaced. You pinched your fingers against the bridge of your nose as you handed Alastor the note. Of course she’d do some shit like this. “She got caught up in something. I guess. She told us to hangout instead.”

Alastor hummed as he read through the note. He folded it neatly and tucked it away in a shirt pocket.

“Well, seeing as I cleared some time in my schedule for this… I’ve nothing better to do.”

You nodded, agreeing with a similar statement. So much for girl-talk therapy.

You both approached the table and he, always the gentleman, pulled out the chair for you to sit before he took his own seat. The silence was unbearably awkward—for you, at least. He probably had no care in the world. There was a light hum rumbling from his throat, and he glanced around, watching the surroundings. Every time his eyes met yours, you would both quickly look another way.

You had noticed a few different waiters rush by your table, side-eyeing Alastor in particular before scrambling to, at least you assumed, find another waiter to cover the table. You sighed and idly played with a hole in the wire-mesh tabletop.

“So, how’s our dear Charlie’s new plan coming along?” Alastor finally decided to carry the weight of striking up a conversation and you perked up a bit. You loved to talk about Charlie and her ideas—you cherished her friendship and kindness with your whole being. Plus, you were also just excited to interrupt that painful silence.

“Oh! Good so far! At least, on paper,” You rubbed your arm sheepishly. You tried not to stumble over your words as you saw how intently he was watching you, red eyes almost glowing in intensity. “They… never really turn out as planned… as I’m sure you’ve noticed…”

He responded with a bitter laugh, and your shoulders suddenly felt less tense as a more natural flow of conversation started. It was still, obviously, a bit strange and there was still a sense of unease considering the nature of the Overlord you spoke to, but you nonetheless appreciated the relative ease of getting along with him.

A waiter came and went during your conversation, and you had to interrupt your laugh at a joke Alastor had made to order yourself a tea. Alastor got himself a coffee.

“Would you look at the time,” Alastor suddenly said after you sipped on your drinks for a while. He didn’t carry a watch with him; instead, he had cast his face up to the sky and observed it was getting rather dark.

“Holy shit!” You looked at an actual watch, realizing the two of you had been chatting for ours. Your chest felt weightless and you held back a wide smile when you saw how long you were able to just sit and talk to Alastor. “Damn, yeah, Charlie’s probably worried by now.”

Alastor stood and, just as before, pulled out the seat for you as you stood. The two of you walked next to each other at a slower than natural pace, as if you both wanted to linger just a bit longer in each other’s presence—though, that was honestly probably just you. He was likely just being polite.

“Maybe it’s good our plans with Rosie didn’t go as… planned…” You said slowly, carefully, peeking at him from the corner of your eye. You were somewhat starting to doubt if he had equally enjoyed your time together, or if he was just playing along since he knew Rosie was keen on you.

“Agreed,” He simply responded. He was quiet for a beat before he continued. “Surprisingly I find your company quite enjoyable.”

You decided not to comment on the ‘surprisingly’ part and just flashed him a light smile before focusing your attention on the sidewalk, kicking at a rock with each step. It was silent again, but this time it was more comfortable. Alastor was humming again, and you felt a prickling of goosebumps as you listened to his voice.

You wished it could always be like this. You and him. Though you were certain that was an impossible reality—it was Alastor, after all. You tried not to think about it in order to enjoy the experience now.

A misplaced kick at the rock made you trip, and you mentally cursed yourself as you stumbled forward. How fucking embarrassing was this going to—your scrambled thoughts were interrupted when Alastor caught you, his surprisingly strong arm snug around your torso as he pulled you steady.

A tight-lipped smile and a quiet “thanks” was all you could awkwardly do in return. It took you a moment to notice his arm was still around you, and once you looked down at it he seemed to realize this too and slid it away. Are you going crazy, or did he seem reluctant to let go? You wanted to smack yourself till your mind cleared, but the ghost feeling of his arm against you was sending a fire through your skin.

“You walk like a fresh-born fawn,” He joked, averting his face away from you as he straightened the cuff of his sleeve. “Watch where you step. I might not be able to catch you next time.”

You didn’t respond and just kept walking, face hot from shame after tripping over such a minor thing. Alastor now walked notably closer to you, his hand almost brushing against yours with every step. At some point the back of his hand did graze against your own, and had you not been expecting it you probably would’ve jumped. Alastor, on the other hand, did seem to stiffen at the contact but he didn’t move.

Finally the hotel was in sight, and before you knew it the Overlord was pushing open the door and offering you to enter first. He led you to your room and you both stood in the hallway, your own breath bated with anticipation as you rapidly tried to find something to say. You didn’t want this to just be a one-and-done deal.

Silence again.

It didn’t help that his eyes had a red glow in the dark of the silent hall—anybody else would find it intimidating, but… man… you felt your cheeks get a bit hot.

Did he just take a step closer? You honestly couldn’t tell, but the buzzing in your ears from his radio afflicted being seemed to grow in intensity and he seemed to be looming over you a bit more. There was a sinister look in his eyes, but you couldn’t tell if it was due to malice or… something else. You really couldn’t tell, but you couldn’t find yourself scared of him.

Maybe you should be.

Something about being against the wall with the looming figure of the Radio Demon, who you honestly couldn’t tell if he just made another step closer, made you feel like prey being toyed with by a cruel hunter. You would be lying to yourself if you said it wasn’t thrilling.

“Maybe I can pencil in a regular lunch with you every week,” He said suddenly, breaking the growing tension. “Despite your average looks–” Okay, rude. “–you are quite the character.”

“Uh, yeah, I’d like that,” You said, averting your face to hide the growing heat on your skin that gave away your current mental state. If Alastor noticed, he made no indication of it as he clapped his hands together once.

“Well, then, goodnight!” He said, all too cheerfully given the atmosphere barely thirty seconds ago. “We can talk about it tomorrow.”

You nodded wordlessly before bidding him goodnight and reaching behind your back to turn the knob. You stumbled back into the empty space as you waved bye, him reciprocating with a small wave back, before shutting the door with a soft click. You pressed your forehead against the wood, quietly catching your breath you didn’t even realize had been held that whole exchange.

The aura of radio static seemed to linger at your door for a little longer than necessary, and you assumed Alastor was still standing there. It was maybe a minute before he finally left. Your legs felt weak and wobbly as you walked to your bed, falling face first into the sheets. You grabbed a fistful of pillow, screamed into it, and stood back up to get ready for bed.

A feeling of giddiness rose in your chest as you looked at your reflection, and you couldn’t help the grin that crept up your lips. You wouldn’t overthink it too much—you didn’t want to lead yourself astray—but… if you didn’t know any better… you could almost say Alastor felt at least a fraction of mutual feelings towards you.

You just hoped you wouldn’t screw it up.

#ohdeerfully #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #fluff #alastor x you #i feel like its impossible to not write alastor ooc when its a romance fic #sorry not sorry #teehee #hazbin hotel alastor

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 1 day

Text

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 16: Please Come Back To Me

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy. This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter sixteen of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 7.6K (You know you love it)

Warnings: References to sex, Cursing, Angst, Alot of Angst, Crying, Heartbreak, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, completely a little OOC, Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from the Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Additional Warning: This chapter contains severe amounts of fluff and angst. Ben is SUPER OOC and really soft in this chapter, I will not apologize for that, but I will say you're welcome 😉 If you don't like either of those things, then probably shouldn't read this?

***************************************************

When you wake up you think you dreamed it all, but one look at your blotchy red face in the mirror of your bathroom, dried snot on your shirt, and your inability to find your phone means that it did happen.

Ben was back and you didn't know where to go from here.

Bits and pieces of the conversation explode in your head like fireworks and your grip on the bathroom sink tightens so much that the countertop cracks beneath your hands.

Shit.

You extract your fingers from the marble that crumbled like gravel in your iron grip and glance down at your watch. You’d been asleep for 7 hours, which meant that now it was 10 pm and you probably weren't going to sleep tonight.

As if you could after everything that just happened.

Honestly, you were surprised that you had been able to, but you figured it was just the exhaustion of everything that happened, the heartbreak, the shouting, the tears, the inability of you to let go of the past, and Ben's confession of love that you waited 80 years to hear. You had wondered in the past if he wanted to say it the night that you decided to come with him, if he really did care for you as much as you cared for him all these years. Now that you knew, you wish you didn't. You wish that you could let him go, let go of the things that happened all those years ago, and wish that you hadn't fallen for him and expected him to catch you.

You think about crawling back into bed and hugging your pillow until you fall asleep so you don’t have to think about Ben. You wince at the thought of his name.

He apologized, admitted that he loved me, said that what he did was wrong, said that he wouldn’t leave- The urge to cry lodges in the back of your throat. How do I have any tears left?

You think about how much you wanted to run to him, to throw yourself into his arms, but you knew that you shouldn't want to. Ben broke you. What he did weighed on your heart everyday, but you wanted to forgive him.

How can I still want him as much as I do? How can I want him to fix this even after he did everything he could to push me away?

The look in his eyes when he confessed his feelings to you flashes through your mind in black and white.

Ben admitted weakness, said that he was scared of all things. Ben wasn't afraid of anything.

Over 40 years of friendship meant that you knew every part of him, but the part you had seen in your apartment, him practically begging you to forgive him was not one that you were used to and was not one that you had ever seen.

It was unusual for him to look broken and vulnerable.

The closest you'd ever come to seeing it was on the nights back in Philadelphia when he tapped on your window, on nights when his father gave him a hard time and Ben needed a place to crash. When the look in his eyes made you want to pull him into your arms and never let him go, to tell him that everything was going to be okay, that he wasn't a disappointment. Because despite everything with Countess, Ben wasn't a disappointment to you.

Everything was easier when you were kids, when Ben would fall asleep beside you in your bed and when you woke up in his arms, you wished that he did it on purpose.

I guess he was trying to say that he did it on purpose. You sigh as you walk into your closet to find a soft t-shirt while avoiding the duffle bag that you threw inside the double doors before you collapsed onto the bed.

But even if he was sorry, how do I know he won’t just act like the boy I used to know and tomorrow pretend he doesn’t exist? It was so easy for him to do that, to say that I meant nothing to him, to act like he didn't care.

You think about the morning after your birthday, when he looked soft and happy in your bed and how quickly he shifted into the cold mask he wore as Soldier Boy. How easy it was for him to push you away and ignore you, act like you didn’t exist and cling to Countess at the premiere.

How do I know he won’t do that again? How can I trust him? How can I forget everything he did?

You think about the night you found him with Countess, think about the moments before at the premiere, when she made you believe that you were the ugly little girl who watched Ben prance around your birthday party with Missy Callahan. Your mind stutters on her name, remembering the last time you heard it in conversation on the night that you wished would never end.

"Don't be jealous of Missy Callahan. She's nothing compared to you. Never has been, never will be."

You hear Ben whisper it to you while your song played and remember that it made you feel like you were floating, made you feel understood and seen for the first time in your life. The memory of the night you spent together rises to the surface and you allow yourself to remember, remember how it felt to finally have him completely, how much it meant to you for him to be there with you, and how he made you feel special and loved.

Your jaw clenches as the image of him with Countess sours the memory of the perfect night you had together, as the memory of the words he shouted at you rip through the happy glow you had the morning after your birthday when you told him everything you'd always wanted to.

And then the memory of what he said to you a few hours ago rises.

"We made love. I understood that when I woke up the next morning and I was happy to be there with you. I knew that I loved you and I wanted to tell you, but I fucked it all up instead. I fucked Countess because I was scared of what loving you meant. But I'm ready now, I'm not scared anymore. I love you!"

Damn it why does it have to be like this. You clench your teeth together in anger and frustration. Why did he have to do this? Why did I have to love him? Why couldn't he have just stayed gone? Why did he have to come here-

"No. I love you and I'm not leaving!"

The words reverberate around in your skull, shaking through your body like an avalanche, shaking the foundation that you built to push him away. Because you didn't want to. You didn't want him to leave. You didn't want him to leave ever again. But you weren't sure if you could survive again if he did that again. If you opened your heart to him only to have him crush it under his heel all over again.

It was so long ago. 40 years. 40 years that he said he spent regretting what he said that night. We both said things that night.

Sometimes you wondered if Ben was as broken as you were after the fight. You think about how he looked when you went into your room and think about what he said.

Maybe he was.

Apart of you didn’t want to forgive him and didn’t believe that he really understood what he did to you. The other part wanted to leave your apartment and find him, ask him to stay, forgive him and let him back in to your heart.

More frustrated tears slip down your cheeks as you look for a pair of your soft sweatpants. When you walk out of your closet you think about going back to bed again, but you knew that sleep wouldn't come.

Maybe I should call Rosie. She'd be proud of me for not forgiving him, but probably would be mad that he came here. And I should probably tell her that I didn't have to go to Russia.

That thought gives you the strength to leave your bedroom, bare feet padding down the cool floors of the hallway back to your living room. The lights are all off, save from one single lamp on the coffee table next to the plush leather couch, the same one that you'd thrown Ben over when he grabbed your arm.

But when you cross from the hallway into the living room, you realize that you aren't alone.

Ben is sitting on the couch, leaning forward on his forearms, a blunt perched in his right hand where his arm rests against his knee, looking down at his feet. He looks up at you when you walk in, eyes piercing in the warm light of the lamp, familiar in a way that almost makes you start crying all over again.

"What are you still doing here? I thought I told you-" You begin to say, voice hoarse from crying, trying to summon up enough anger to push him away, but then your eyes shift to your kitchen counter.

A pretty glass vase of fresh cut lavender sits on the counter, the sharp clean smell floats through the air soothing the anger and frustration that you drew on to speak.

Despite your age and the way most considered them to be classic, you thought that over the years roses had become generic. But you loved lavender. It reminded you of the country home your family lived at over the summers when your mother declared that the smog in the city was too much and you all needed a holiday. She always seemed softer in the countryside, all the sharp edges of the city melting away. She didn’t snipe at your figure or your paint stained hands, if anything she gave you more freedom. You spent your summers outside in the garden staring up at the clouds missing Ben, painting and sketching, while the smell of the flowers enveloped your senses. You used to send letters to him and some sketches of flowers or small painted doodles after pressing fresh lavender into the envelopes so they would smell like it when they got to him. You wanted him to think of you whenever he smelled lavender.

He remembered how much I loved lavender?

Your eyes shift to the cigar box that lays open next to it, focusing on the slips of paper that seem to spill out over your countertop.

Are those-

You reach into the box and pull out the yellowed pages of letters delicately, eyes drifting across the paper, recognizing your handwriting, remembering the painstaking moments you spent writing them to Ben, hoping that he got them, and hoping that he missed you as much as you missed him. Underneath the ones from the summers are the ones that you sent him when he was at boarding school and then finally the faded pencil sketches and faded watercolor paintings you sent him. Each piece is folded and refolded as if someone continued to look at them over and over again.

Your fingers drift over a small doodle that you did of Ben and you sitting on a bench in Philadelphia, the one that captured you laughing at something Ben said.

It was so much easier then.

“You kept them?” You breathe while looking down at the pages.

Ben stands from the couch, putting out the blunt in one of the decorative glass ashtrays on your coffee table, watching you with the same expression in his eyes that he had when you were there earlier, when you told him to leave and not come back.

"Ben-" Tears begin to fall all over again as you meet his gaze.

"I hated those summers when you were gone. I used to sleep in your room and read the letters." He whispers. "It made me realize how much I needed you in my life. I never needed anyone before." His jaw clenches together as if the thought makes him angry.

“You asked me once why I didn’t stay at those schools. It’s because when I was at all those shitty boarding schools the only thing I could think about was getting back to you, coming back home.”

The word rings in the air between you and you suddenly understand what he is saying, remember what he said the day you were together at your first baseball game and you asked him why he didn't like staying at the boarding schools.

"I don't like being there. It's not home." He had said it so casually, but you remember being confused at his reply, but now you know.

He was saying that home was with you and it made your heart feel like it was ripping itself in half because you were still so angry with him but you didn’t want to be. Not when he was saying the very thing you’d known from the beginning. That being with him was home.

“Ben-“ You say, trying to strengthen your resolve, trying to summon the anger you’ve kept close to your heart for forty years.

"Every time I came to see you, tapped on your window I thought you would push me away, turn your back on me and you never did. And when all this supe shit happened I needed you with me too, that's why I asked you to come with me. Those years before and when we were on Payback, you put up with all my shit. Even when I did horrible things to other people, you stood by me. You know more about me than anyone else, have known me for longer than anyone else-" He takes a cautionary step forward.

Tears continue to fall from your eyes, sobs shaking your shoulders, but you can't speak.

"That night with you, felt different. Even before when we were at that restaurant it was different. I didn't want to leave. It was like nothing changed, like we were in your room again just talking, before all this, when we were still in Philadelphia. The only memories that I have from Philadelphia that are worth remembering are the moments I spent with you. And when I asked if I could come back to your place I-" He sighs rubbing the back of his neck. "I thought you would say no, but you didn't. And then you told me that you had wanted me almost as much as I'd wanted you all those years, that you needed me. I always thought that it was only me that needed you."

"Ben I can't-" You voice breaks looking away from him.

Ben is close enough now that his fingers come under your chin to tilt your face up to his. “I shouldn’t have said what I said or did what I did. I didn’t want to need anyone. I thought that I had to push you away because loving you meant I was weak. But it’s not true. Loving you is the only good thing that I’ve ever done and loving you is the only thing that makes me strong.”

You close your eyes to avoid his gaze, you wanted to believe him, but you weren’t sure that you could.

"I've fucked a lot of women in my life y/n, I won't apologize for that. But I've only made love to one." His thumb brushes away another tear that falls from your eyes. "And when you told me that you wanted me to be your first, it did something to me. I wanted to be everything you needed. I didn't want just one night with you. I wanted all of them. When I woke up the next morning with you in my arms, I didn't want it to end. All those nights when I showed up at your apartment, I didn’t want to go home. I just wanted to stay with you because it was home. Even when we were kids, being with you in your room it was the only place that I felt like I belonged.”

Your hand can't help but come up between the two of you, resting solidly on his chest. Apart of you wants to push him away, but you can’t.

Ben is still touching your face, holding it up to his. Your bodies are so close together that you can feel the heat of his skin through the air between you. Another tear falls and Ben's thumb brushes it away. The smell of the lavender is intoxicating, broken up only by the familiar smell of Ben's aftershave and soap.

And somehow you find your voice. It shakes, but you hold his gaze. "I hated you for a long time. What you said broke me. I was broken so many years. I still am-“

“Sweetheart-“

“No.” You inhale sharply. “I want to believe you, but I don’t think you understand what you did. I want to believe that you’ve changed but this is exactly what happened that night on my birthday. Don’t you see? How can I believe you? How do I know that you won't pretend to be everything I want, pretend that you’re the boy I fell in love with and then the next morning you’ll push me away and act like he doesn’t exist-“ Tears leave warm trails down your cheeks. "I’m not strong enough to go through that again.”

“I promise-“

“Ben you’ve promised in the past. And I-“ More tears come. “I’ve tried so hard to put it behind me. I want to believe that you’re still you but I don’t know if I can trust you again like I did.”

"Y/n." Ben looks deep into your eyes. "I didn't pretend that night. The only time I pretended not to care was in the morning and at the premiere-"

"And how do I know you won't do it again?" You sob. "When you think that it's too weak to admit that you care about me?"

"I do fucking care about you."

"You say that now."

"I love you."

"Ben I can't-"

"I said those things because I-" He sighs, shoulders tight in frustration and anger. "I thought that I needed to push you away, that I shouldn't care about anyone as much as I care about you. But I do. I fucking care about you more than I've ever cared about anyone in my life. I didn’t want to need anyone but I do. I need you. That’s why I kept showing up in your life. That’s why I spent so many nights in your bed. I couldn’t survive the night alone and I needed you with me, even after we took the damn serum.”

“But-“

“That night when you told me that asshole, Howard proposed I knew that I couldn't lose you. I didn't want you to marry that fucker. I wanted you to be with me. He didn't know you the same way I did, he didn't understand you. He didn't deserve you. And the night we danced together I called you ‘my girl’ because I wanted you to be. I wanted you to be mine. Not because I wanted to piss him off. Because I wanted you. I’ve always wanted you. You’re the one, the only one.”

You drop your gaze to his chest, sobbing quietly to yourself. Ben tilts your head up towards his one more time, to look deeply into your eyes. There's an unfamiliar vulnerability that stares back at you, the same one you saw when Ben would come to your bedroom and wait for you to ask him to stay because he thought you would push him away the way everyone else did.

"I promise that I will never do that to you again. I know it doesn't make what I did or what I said okay. But I will spend the rest of my life trying to fix it because I can't lose you. I’ve spent forty years away from you and I don’t want to spend anymore time away. I love you. And I hate that I fucking hurt you this much."

You can see the sincerity in his eyes, hear the raw emotion in his voice, but you’re still unsure.

“Please y/n I want to fix this." He says again.

“I know you do. But you can’t just show up 40 years later And expect to fix it in one night. I know it’s not your fault that you didn’t come sooner but, you hurt me-“

“I know I did-“ his eyes drop to your shoulders as the memory of how he grabbed you that night blankets his mind.

“No not like that. Ben you don’t understand. Sorry isn’t enough. And yes hearing you say all these things was nice but it’s not enough to make me forget everything that happened.”

“But-“

“No. Ben I loved you, more than I’d ever loved anyone I-“ You shake your head tears falling fast. “I lost pieces of myself to make you happy to make sure that you had someone in your life that cared for you. I stayed for so long with you because it was all I thought I could do. And every time I thought I could leave to do something for myself you would do something to pull me back in like you had a fucking radar and knew oh if I do something that she wants I’ll get her to stay with me a little longer!”

“I knew you were unhappy! I was trying to make you happy! I wanted you to stay with me-“

“By manipulating me?”

“No it wasn’t because I wanted to manipulate you I-“ He exhales in frustration. “You told me that you wanted someone to come home to, someone who loved you, a family, I wanted to give you those things! I saw how you were looking at the other couples, I knew what you wanted. That’s why I held your hand at dinner, gave you the necklace, and that’s why I kissed you-“

“But then you pushed me away. You pushed me away when I needed you the most, when I finally said what I'd been trying to say for years.” Your voice shakes. “I can’t go to bed every night with you and wake up with the dread that you’re going to push me away again and say that I mean nothing. That you’ll be cold and unfeeling and- I can’t do that to myself again.”

“I promise I won’t-“

“I don’t know if I believe you. If I can after everything."

"Please just tell me what I can do to fix it."

"I don't know!" You shout running your fingers through your hair pulling back from him. Because you wanted him to fix it. You loved every bit of the words he said, the love he confessed to you. You loved the way he was looking at you, the way he wanted to make this up to you, but your heart wouldn't let go. It couldn't let go of the things he shouted at you, couldn't let go of the image of him and Countess, couldn't forget how happy you were to tell him you loved him and then he just acted like you were nothing. The words he said that night begin to circulate, bringing you deeper into the dark pit that threatened to swallow you whole, the pit that you'd fallen into when you thought he died.

"Ben I-" Your voice catches in your throat. "I wish that I knew what you could do to fix this. I want you to. I want to forget all of it. And I want to forgive you because I still fucking love you, but I can't do it in one day. I can’t -" And despite your better judgement you crumple against his chest, tears smearing against the front of his shirt, body shaking with sobs, and trying hard to not think how it feels the same as it always has to be pressed against him.

Ben's arms come up around you to wrap you in his embrace, tucking your head under his chin as he begins to drag his hand up and down your back in a soothing motion.

The gentleness of his touch makes you cry harder against him, hold on to him so tight that you think you'll break him in half, but he doesn't complain, he just stands there with you. It reminds you of when he came to hold you in the hotel room when your brother died, when he drove for hours to be there for you. Because despite everything that had happened between you, Ben was always there with you before that night with Countess.

You don’t know how long you standing there together, but finally Ben picks you up and carries you down the dark hallway to your bedroom and deposits you on the bed.

He waits a minute on the edge, standing as if he's unsure, brow scrunched up in frustration and anger.

"I didn't mean to hurt you this fucking much. And I don’t know how to-“ His jaw tenses and he shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut like he can't look at you. “I don’t know how to- fuck- I can’t lose you.” Ben grips his hair so tightly you think he’s going to pull it out.

“Ben.” You sigh and despite everything , you stand up from the bed to hug him, allowing him to press his head into your shoulder and hug you so tight it hurts. It breaks something deeper in your chest because you can see how broken he is, how much he wants to fix this, and how much of him he was willing to let you see.

You didn't understand how he was being so open, how he was allowing himself to be like this after all the bullshit toxic masculinity he usually spouted and how he pushed away his feelings for so long. You wondered if after this he would push you away because you had seen him like this, or if he really did love you and that was why he was doing it.

“It’s okay.” You soothe, running your hands up and down his back. “It’s alright.”

But you’re not sure it is.

"If you still want me to leave I will. I can sleep on the couch.” Ben whispers. The emotion that flashes in his eyes when he says it, breaks your heart. It's vulnerable and raw, so different that the mask Ben wore as Soldier Boy. “But please don’t make me go.”

"I don't want you to go." You whisper. “Even after everything. I want you here with me, it’s just hard.”

“I’m sorry-"

“I know you are Ben.” You both stand there for a minute and you weigh your options.

You think about making him go back out on the couch, making him sleep alone, but you don’t want that. You knew that you’d spend the whole night thinking about him. And as much as a part of you wanted to push him away, you couldn't. So you do the opposite.

You take his hand and gently entwine your fingers with his. Ben stares down at them for a moment confused, before you sit on the bed, scooting back and tugging softly, but he hesitates.

“Are you sure?” He asks in a whisper, gaze raising from your hands to catch your eye.

You nod once tugging his hand again and this time he follows you down into the mattress.

He slides in next to you beneath the covers, keeping your hands entwined between the two of you so that they are locked against his chest as you face one another on the bed, heads resting on different pillows, but close enough that you can feel his warm breath every time he exhales.

Ben's eyes search yours. “I tried to call after. I picked up the phone but every time I did I couldn’t-“ He sighs. "I was such a fucking pussy. I didn't know what to say. I should have just come over-"

"I wouldn't have let you in." You breathe. "I didn't want to see you, didn't want to see anyone. Stan Edgar tried to come talk to me and I broke his nose."

"Really?" Ben smiles.

"Yeah." You try to smile back, but you can't.

Ben raises his free hand to push back your hair and tuck it behind your ear, but his eyes drop to your shoulders tracing the imaginary bruises that he left behind all those years ago. "I'm sorry that I hurt you. I didn’t mean to-“

You press your lips into a tight line. “I think that’s the only time I’ve ever been afraid of you.” You say in a whisper. You hadn’t wanted to admit it aloud, but it was true. You had been angry and heartbroken, but the fact that Ben had laid a hand on you, was prepared to hurt you had scared you. It was what solidified that the thought that boy you loved was gone.

But the look on his face breaks something inside you, pain and anguish flashing in his eyes.

"Ben-" You sigh, shifting forward closer to him, but he releases your hand and instead wraps his arm around your waist to pull you into his chest, pressing his head into your shoulder. You know that he can't say what he's thinking right now, but he doesn't have to.

“I also remember doing something to you.” You say because you don't know what else to, you’re not used to seeing him look so broken.

“I deserved it.” He mumbles into your shirt.

“You didn’t deserve what I said about your dad-“

“I did. You were right.”

“Ben you’re not like him.”

“But I am. Everything I did to you, is something he would have done.” He mutters, pulling you tighter against him. “I don’t know how to fucking fix this.”

“This is helping a little bit.” You whisper against your better judgement, while you inhale his shampoo and lean further into his chest. It was weird to be here with him after all these years, after all the years you spent hating him. You didn't want to forgive him, you wanted to be angry but at the same time you wanted to believe him, you wanted to believe that the boy you fell in love with was still there.

And laying here with him holding you the way you always wanted him to, made you remember that boy.

“Yeah?” He breathes, raising his head from your shoulder.

“Mhmm.”

You lay there for a minute in his embrace and it's like he never left. It's the same as when you were kids and you laid in bed together. And finally you say. "As angry as I am, I still love you. You matter too much to me for me to let you go. I think that's why it hurts so much, because you're all I had Ben and I-"

"That's why I can't lose you. You're all I have and that’s enough. You are enough. You always have been and always will be.” Ben states his eyes are wide with his confession, the pain of what he did to you flashes through them. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. But I never could think of a way to say it.”

More tears spring from your eyes and you wonder when you’ll stop crying.

Ben leans his forehead against yours. His expression softens as he looks into your eyes, his touch gentle against your cheek. “But if you’ll let me, I’d like to show you how much I love you and how sorry I am.” The look in his eyes is softer than you’ve ever seen it, reminding you of how he looked on those early mornings still half asleep and reminding you of how he looked the morning after your birthday before he ran.

You know he means well, and you understand what he’s asking, why he’s asking. He’s trying to make it up to you the only way he knows how, but you can’t do it. It's too soon. Too much after everything that happened and too much considering you're still trying to come to terms with the fact that he's here and he's finally saying everything you ever wanted him to. Not to mention that you haven't completely forgiven him.

“Ben?"

“Yeah?”

“Can you just hold me tonight?” You breathe. You felt disgusting. You had snot and tears all over your face and your cheeks were bright red and splotchy from crying. “I’m not ready for that. Not after everything. I don't think I can-”

You watch disappointment flicker in his eyes but he recovers with a soft smile. "It's okay. We can take this slow, whatever you need."

Ben drops the hand that was against your cheek and wraps his arm around your waist to pull you into his chest. You snuggle into his arms breathing in the familiar smell before bringing your arms up to wrap around the back of his neck in a tight hug.

“Did they hurt you?” You ask before you can stop yourself.

Ben’s arms tighten around you and you know that he must be remembering the past 40 years.

“What they did doesn’t matter.”

“I’m so sorry I didn’t come for you." You pull back to look into his eyes. "The others told me you were dead. I wouldn’t have left you there if I knew-“

“I know.” Ben leans his forehead against yours. “I would have come for you too.”

“I know.”

“It means a lot to me that you were still willing to come get me after everything I fucking put you through.”

“That’s what love is.”

“No.” Ben whispers. “That’s you.”

“Ben-“

“I don’t deserve you. You’ve stood by me, put up with all my shit all these years and you never turned your back on me. What I did to you is unforgivable and yet you want me here with you-“

“Ben.” You sigh. “I know that I shouldn’t want you here and a part of me wants to push you away. I should make you leave, but I can’t. You’re my best friend and I love you. And that means that even though you’re the one who hurt me, you’re the only person that I want here, comforting me. As fucked up as that is, I don’t care. What you did was horrible, but I promise that I’m going to try my best to forgive you. It might take a long time, but I want to trust you again, because I love you and I never stopped.”

He frowns despite what you confessed. “You don’t regret-“

“I said a lot of things that night. And you did too." You push his hair back over his forehead. "And for the record, I don't think your father would care about making it up to someone else. We both know that he didn't care about anyone but himself. And even after everything that happened you're proving that you aren't him, right now, by being here with me."

He presses his lips together in a tight line. "Okay."

It’s quiet for a few moments as both of you stare at one another in the dim light of your bedroom.

“Have you really loved me since we were 8?” Ben whispers.

“Yeah. Since the study.” You're not sure if you should be embarrassed or not.

He smiles. “I was 10. It was the night of my mom's funeral. My dad was giving me some shit about something, but I couldn't stop thinking about you so I climbed up the tree outside your window. I wasn't going to ask you to come in, I was just going to sit on the ledge and watch you draw. I like watching you draw, it's like you're in your own little world and you forget about everything else. You always seem so happy." Ben smiles wider. "I like seeing you happy."

You remembered that night. You had a weird feeling that someone was watching you and when you looked out your window you had seen Ben sitting there. You had made a joke about him stalking you, but then invited him in. It was the first night that he had ever spent in your bed.

"And then when we woke up the next morning, you were laying there snoring-" Ben snorts.

"I do not snore." You smile with a sniffle

"You do. It's cute." Ben's smile turns softer. "And I didn't want to wake you up, because it meant that we'd have to move and I didn't want to ever move. Because moving meant that I would have to go back to my dad and I didn't want that. I just wanted to stay there with you."

More tears pour from your eyes with his confession because again you can’t see Soldier Boy, you just see Ben, but you know it’ll take a long time until you’re completely healed.

“I didn’t want to say anything. I thought that if I did you would push me away and I didn’t have anyone else that mattered in my life. And you deserved better than me. I was always getting kicked out of boarding schools I was a fuck up. A disappointment.” Ben sighs, brushing away your tears again. “Even after we took the serum I was. You deserved someone who was-“

“I didn’t think you were a fuck up, Ben. I’ve never thought that. I hate what your father said to you, what he did to you. I hate that he made you feel like you didn’t matter.” You stroke your fingertips through his hair and Ben sighs, leaning his forehead against yours and closes his eyes. “You are worth so much more than what he told you. You mean so much to me, more than anyone else ever. That’s why I never told you. I didn’t want to lose you. You’re everything to me.”

“You’re not going to lose me. I promise I’m never going to leave you again. I missed you so fucking much sweetheart.”

“I missed you too.” You continue to move your fingers through his hair. In the past you had avoided the urge to do so, but now you wanted to comfort him. Because as much as you wanted to forget the last forty years, you wondered what they had been like for him. You wanted him to tell you what they did to him.

“Feels nice.” He murmurs, arms tightening around your waist.

“Your hair’s a lot longer.” You can’t help but smile at his reaction.

“Didn’t have time to cut it.”

“So is your beard-“

“If you don’t like it I can shave it off-“

“No don’t.” You say it quickly and Ben opens one eye to smirk at you.

“Guess you like it.”

“Maybe.”

“Then I’ll keep it just for you Sweetheart.” He leans further into you. “You know I think you look pretty good too.”

You snort. “You don’t have to butter me up just because you feel bad. I’m wearing sweatpants, I haven't brushed my hair, and my face is all puffy-“

“You look beautiful.”

“Well-“

“Stop. You do.”

“Ben-“

This time Ben raises his hand to cup your chin. “Will you just let me compliment my girl?”

The nickname is familiar. You remember the last time he called you that, when you were dancing and he finally kissed you for the first time. “Do you really mean it this time?”

“I always meant it. You are mine and nothing else matters.” The look in his eyes is determined, as if he wants you to understand how much you mean to him.

“Does that mean that you're mine too?" Your voice is almost a whisper, frightened of his answer. Although he had apologized and said that he wanted to make it up to you, you were still afraid. Afraid that Ben couldn't do this.

"Y/n." Ben's expression is pained. "I promise I will never do that again. I will never hurt you like that ever. Believe me when I say that."

"I'm trying to."

“What can I do to fix it?” He asks again.

“I don’t know.”

And you don't. Because you understood that Ben was trying his hardest to make up for what happened, and yes you loved that he was like this now, but you were afraid, afraid that the next day you'd wake up and he'd be gone and Soldier Boy would be back.

Ben sighs. "I am yours and I don’t want to be anywhere else." His eyes are focused on you, determined, but filled with a softness that turns the beautiful emerald into a clover that reminds you of the soft grass at the park the day you painted him.

You weren’t used to him looking at you like that, like you were the only person in the world. It had only happened one other time, the morning after your birthday when you were more happy than you'd ever been in your entire life.

“Okay.” You whisper back because you don’t know what else to say. “Ben?”

“Mhmm?”

“What did they do to you?”

Ben’s body tenses. “It doesn’t matter now.”

"Please tell me.”

“Why?”

“Because you were there for forty years and I-“

“It doesn’t fucking matter. Just drop it.” Ben snaps, eyes blazing green.

You wait for a beat, watching the blaze of his eyes turn down to a simmer. “It’s okay to admit that the last forty years haven’t been easy. I won’t judge you for that or think less of you Ben. And if we’re going to do this, be in a relationship, you’re going to need to share things with me. It can’t be one sided-“

“It’s not going to be one sided, I just don’t want to talk about that.”

“Okay.” You sigh, settling back down next to him. You couldn’t help but feel a little bit disappointed. You knew that Ben kept his cards close to his chest, but you wanted him to be open with you about things like that.

The silence grows between you filled with unspoken things.

“They wanted to see if I could die, if they could make me fucking normal again.” Ben mutters into the top of your head. And then he tells you, tells you what happened that day in Nicaragua, tells you about the testing, about the nuclear bomb they put into his chest, about every single thing they did to him over the past forty years. With each revelation of the last forty years your arms tighten around his body in a hug, holding him to you while his words make anger surge in your chest like an uncontrollable fire.

How could they do that to him? How could they hurt him like that? And Payback? They were our teammates. How could they turn their back on Ben like that? Give him up so easily and not for any kind of money?

You think about what Countess confessed to you, when she said that she purposely drove you two apart.

They were right to. If they had tried any of that with me there, I would have ripped them all apart if they tried to take Ben away.

Your fingers fall into Ben’s hair, gently dragging back and forth at the base of his skull while he continues, trying to bring him some comfort.

“Ben I’m so sorry.” You say when he finishes.

“It’s okay-“

“It’s not. Nothing they did to you is okay.”

“I deserved it.”

His words make an ice cold chill travel down your spine. It was the second time that he had said something like that tonight.

“Ben.”

You lean back from him to look him in the eye, but he won’t meet your gaze. Your hands cup his cheeks, his scruff prickling against your palms as you bring his attention to you. He looks lost and it scares you. Ben never did that. He was always together, it was you that usually had that haunting look in your eyes, but you could see what they did to him reflected in the familiar green. He looked worn.

“You didn’t deserve what they did to you. No one deserves that. And yeah maybe you said some shit you shouldn’t have and maybe you did something bad, but I never want to hear you say that again. Do you understand me? Never say that again. You didn’t deserve that. And I promise you that you’re never going back. I will not let them take you again.”

Ben nods once and your hands slip from his cheeks to go around his neck once more to pull him into a tight hug.

“I didn’t mean to hurt those people.” He mutters into the top of your head remembering what happened in Mid-town.

You had heard about it through Rosemary, who had several patients who had been hurt in the explosion, not to mention every news station seemed to have it on 24/7.

“I know. It’s okay. You just lost control. It happens to all of us.” You think about killing Countess. “It doesn’t make you a bad guy.”

“Hmm.”

It was weird for Ben to allow this, to allow you to hold him, but somewhere deep down you wondered if he always wanted you to, but he just never said and didn’t want to admit it out loud.

Weirder still was that he was holding you to him too, curling his arms around you and pulling you into his chest like you belonged there. And despite everything that happened, despite how angry you wanted to be, being here with him felt like you were coming home.

“You should sleep.” He whispers after a little while, as his hand trails down your spine, moving up and down in a soothing motion.

“Will you be here when I wake up?”

“If you want me to be.”

“I wasn’t lying when I said I always want you here.” You breathe into his skin. “I lied when I said I never wanted to see you again.”

“Then I will be.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head that makes you cuddle further into him, tightening your arms were they wrap around his neck to pull him into you.

And you hope that one day it won't hurt, that one day you won't hear the words he yelled at you, and that one day you can believe and trust him again like you did.

******************************************************

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#soldier boy x you #soldier boy x reader #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy #soldier boy/ben #the boys amazon #the boys fanfic #jensen ackles #jackles #the boys #soldier boy fic #soldier boy x y/n #the boys series #the boys season 3 #You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

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themotherofhorses · 13 hours

Text

‘22!simon riley x fem!reader x ‘09!simon riley

warnings: smut. threesome. fingering. allusions to an age gap relationship/relationship between a superior and subordinate. ending open to more future smut.

As I was discussing with @cloudofbutterflies92:

Imagine being sandwiched between ‘09!Ghost and ‘22!Ghost.

Somehow— to be fair, you still don’t know all the details —Ghost’s variant appeared on base; just randomly one October evening, when the 141 was hunkered down in a break room, piled around a TV replaying a previous football match (“Soccer. It’s called soccer, fucking heathens.”).

Well, at least, you assumed him to be his variant; he bore a striking resemblance to your Simon—only years younger, and a tiny bit shorter in height. Yet, the skull-patterned balaclava, shades, and grey-hooded, zipped sweatshirt with the Union Jack patch and insane amount of pockets were the exact same. The sight gave you butterflies in your tummy.

For the most part, though, you maintained a respectful distance from him—that Ghost, that Simon Riley.

“Can I refer to him as Poltergeist?” “Eh, love. Do whatever the hell you want.”

You were Simon Riley’s girl, but he was not your Simon; far from it, in fact. Your Simon was years older, rougher around the edges, with a foul mouth, dry humor, and scars that littered his temple and left cheek.

Would it still count as cheating?

Whatever. You refused to think more of it, instead choosing to stow that thought away in the far corner of your mind as you continued on with your main duties and day-to-day routines. By all means, such thinking teetered into dangerous waters — it could be seen as infidelity, which meant a likelihood of losing Simon. You couldn’t survive without him, not without your Simon; he was your soulmate, the same way you were his.

Which, by extension, meant you were that Simon’s soulmate as well.

Not that it registered to you, of course. Simon says you’re a bit clueless when it comes to recognizing those little signs; it makes sense — prior to your relationship, you had no idea how obsessed your Lieutenant was with you, and that those lingering touches, soft glances, and praises were not normal between a superior and his subordinate. He calls it endearing (“You’re so clueless, baby. God, what would I do without ya?”).

Simon— your Simon —knows that his variant wants you.

It was easy for him to see. Simon Riley loves you so much; he is so unbelievably obsessed with your pretty self, so it made perfect sense for his variant to be equally obsessed with you, too. How could he not be? From the delicious curve of your hipbones, twinkling eyes, and soft hands (so much smaller than his) to the way your plush lips pout, everything about you is utter perfection to him.

(There is probably no universe out there where he isn’t so fucking deeply in love with you, he tells himself.)

So when his variant’s own blue eyes start following you around anytime you’re in the same room as him (Simon knows he’s licking his lips beneath the balaclava, dirty bloke), instead of feeling jealous, Simon feels—

—something else.

Pride. Satisfaction. A bit devilish.

Simon won’t ever share you with anyone else. You’re his. Only he is allowed to see you breathless and whining beneath him, cheeks flushed, soaking the bedsheet as your body ruts against his, soft voice begging for his cock. Other men can dream, but only he lives out those wet dreams.

But that Simon is still Simon.

His eyes are almost the same; the bright blueness carries the exact trauma, hardness, and wariness, made from years of childhood abuse and depression. He has the hands once used in the butcher shop, and the long, thin scar on the back of his neck, where his bastard of a father slammed a beer bottle down during a drunken frenzy. The only difference, however, is that his variant still hasn’t found his main reason to live:

You.

You’re the medicine to Simon’s soul. The first time he gazed into your eyes, he knew he found his reason to continue living in this shitty world; and the first time he stuffed you full of his cock, molding your previously untouched cunt to the shape of him, he told himself there was no way for him to live without you. How he survived this far without you, he’ll never know.

Therefore, he’ll call it a dosage.

You’d call it a threesome.

He has you seated on the living room couch, legs spread apart wide as both Simons have their hands buried deep in your pretty cunt—stretching you out more than what you’re used to. You take turns sloppily making out with both men, their massive cocks held in your hands as your tongue entangles with theirs.

“Oh…oh my god,” you mewl, suddenly flinging your head back as their thick fingers piston in and out of your tiny hole; there is a soft, squelching sound that fills the room as they repeatedly slide through your juices.

“Bloody hell, she’s fuckin’ gorgeous,” the younger Simon groans, bending down to suck on your nipple. He runs his free hand over your other breast, teasing your sensitive nub with his thumb. “Lucky bastard.”

Your Simon smirks at that. “She loves havin’ her pretty pussy played with. Aye, don’t ya, love?” His fingers curl to hit that spongy g-spot that causes you to shriek and squirm and see stars, your pussy tightening around him. Simon grits his teeth. “Look at ya, baby…all flushed and panting.” He picks up the pace, thrusting his two fingers faster.

“C’mon, pretty girl," he further coos, tucking a strand behind your ear. "Be a good girl and cum all over our hands, yeah?”

You nod, bucking your hips to follow their thrusts, in sheer desperation for your orgasm. The younger Simon leaves wet kisses along your jawline, lathering the skin around your mouth with his tongue. “God, you taste so fucking good,” he murmurs against your skin with a deep, guttural moan, his fingers continuing to fuck your pussy, with his thumb rubbing your puffy, little clit roughly.

“Tastes good for a Yank, huh?”

“I could survive off of her for life.”

Your back arches from the overstimulation, a puddle of salva pooling at the edge of your swollen lips. “Si—SIMON, FUCK.” You’re not sure which Simon the moan is meant to be for, and you’re also not sure how much longer you’re gonna last; your pussy is only becoming wetter, and you’re unable to muster out any words. “P-please, please, p-please.”

“Good fucking girl. That’s it. Cum for us. Cum for your men.”

Meanwhile, younger Simon kisses the side of your mouth, pumping his fingers inside your poor pussy faster. “C’mon, love. Lemme feel you cum.”

“Cum on our fingers—” your Simon mumbles in your ear again, pausing to suck your earlobe between his lips. He gives it a gentle tug with his teeth, making you squeak.“—like a good girl, and you’ll get your pussy eaten. Sounds good, yeah, don’t it, baby?”

“Simon,” you whine out, oh so prettily.

He grins. “C’mon, baby. That’s my good girl. Gimme it—I know you can, pretty girl.”

His words do it for you. With a loud, high-pitched moan, your mouth drops in a perfect, little ‘o’ as you shriek, gushing around their fingers, feeling a sharp orgasm raking across your body. Your legs shake while you fall limp against the couch’s cushion, breathing heavily.

“Holy shit,” the younger Simon breathes while pulling his fingers out of your pussy. Would you look at that? In the room’s lighting, he can see the way they glisten with a mess of your juices, staring down at it with a mix of admiration, awe, and pure lust.

“Fuck.” He raises them to his mouth, slowly sucking off your essence with a low mmmm. “So fuckin’ good.”

"Yeah?"

"Bloody fuckin' lucky bloke you are, mate."

"I know."

Their back-and-forth banter makes you giggle. "God," you pant, all flushed and covered in countless hickies. “Can’t drive for shit but knows how to give a girl a damn good orgasm.”

“Hey,” your Simon chuckles, squeezing your thigh. “Don’t start with that shit, love.” He gives your forehead a kiss before gently caressing your chin, “Why don’t ya spread your thighs again and give him a taste, right from the source, hm?”

#vic writes 🧸#call of duty #cod mw #cod ghost #simon riley #simon ghost riley #09 ghost #simon ghost riley imagine #simon riley imagine #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x fem!reader #ghost x reader #ghost x fem!reader

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cryingat300kph · 2 days

Text

Pretty Thing

Pairing: Sebastian Vettel x Boytoy!Mechanic!Reader

(Bad) Summary: When Ferrari gets a new pretty boy for a mechanic a certain 4x world champion takes notice.

Rating: M Warning(s): Mentions of sex, but no actual sex. Cursing. Use of Y/N. Allusion to homophobia in sports. F slur (but in a self-descriptive and reclaimed way) -Not Proofread-

Length: 1.4K Words

A/N: This is Seb in his chaotic flirt Ferrari era, like 1st/2nd year at Ferrari vibes. Also the ending is kinda cut off because I lost steam, but wanted to put something out. Let me know if ya’ll want this continued, I have ideas ;) <3

“Lewis look, that’s who I was talking about.” Seb says poking Lewis’s arm gesturing towards the bar. “Him?!” Lewis asks turning back to Seb. “Yeah.” Seb suppresses the urge to add Isn’t he pretty? “Damn I'm surprised they would hire a mechanic so-“ “so gay?” Sebastian supplies. “Heh-Yeah.” “Well he usually doesn’t look like that.” Seb says again gesturing towards the man.

The “that” Seb is referring to is the absolute twink uniform you are wearing. You might as well be wearing a flashing sign reading “I like dick! ;)” And Sebastian thinks you look completely and utterly delectable; more than usual.

He’d had his eyes on you since you joined the team at the top of the year. At first he noticed you because were young for someone not on the PR team, and far too handsome to not be in a more front-facing role. He was glad he was known to make sure to get to know all new members of the Ferrari family, because it meant he could satisfy this curiosity; finding out you had climbed the ladder at the factory quickly and had always wanted nothing more than to be in the garage track-side.

His interest in you only grew as he got to know you better. He knew obviously that as a mechanic you weren’t just a pretty face, but he soon found out you weren’t just either of those things. But someone who was extremely funny, kind and just as much of a nerd about racing as he was.

And so, a friendship slightly-beyond coworkers started to form. Now, at halfway through the season you two could be called proper friends, but your friendship is still very tied to work. Either way, you feel comfortable around Seb, comfortable enough to speak freely of your interests and life outside of racing. However, one thing he doesn’t know about you was that you don’t mind sharing a bed with a man.

Its hard being queer in formula one. It’s 2015 and huge strides have been made, but motorsports lags behind. Especially as someone who is involved in a more “masculine” job at Ferrari you keeps your more flamboyant tendencies under wraps. European ideas of masculinity help a lot, but it’s still a bit lonely, stressful and draining, to be closeted.

Hence why you’re here.

It had been a stressful race weekend, but Seb ultimately got podium and everyone was rightfully really happy and the team planned to go for drinks with the winning Mercedes team.

Seb had protested a bit when you said you thought you’d sit this one out. “I would, trust me, but I’ve had this headache all day and I doubt a hangover will make it any better.” You lied. He had seemed to come back to himself, like his earlier protest was a slip. Laughing it off. “You’re right, go, rest. We need your brain intact!”

You had chuckled at that saying bye to him and driving back to the hotel to get changed before heading out for your real plans. You felt bad lying to Seb but after this weekend a guy needed some attention damn it! But most importantly you wanted to dress how you want and exist how you want for once even just for a couple of hours.

---

Without you at the party Sebastian is more melancholy than usual. He's cursing himself for crushing like a teenager, but without you there he’s lost interest. “Dude is this about the guy you told me about.” Lewis asks seeing Seb is obviously down about something. “what? no- it” “Where is he? Go talk to him!" “He’s not here, had a headache so he stayed back.” “Well you don’t seem to be having fun so go after him, just ask to hang out.” “But the team, i should-.” “Kimi is enough of a party for the team, he’d probably enjoy the company.” Lewis nudges him. “You know why I can’t Lewis.” Seb says seriously. “Yeah.” Lewis agrees and they’re silent for a bit before he speaks up again, mischief in his voice. “But maybe we could find some other entertainment for the night. To quell the ache?” “What are you suggesting?” Seb asks suspicious. “There’s a bar a couple blocks from here. Heard its a discreet spot, good for cruising.” He says like he’s stating the weather and not suggesting the two biggest F1 drivers at the moment go cruising for gay sex.“What if someone sees us.” “we’re in America, no one knows who we are.” And Seb is just tipsy enough, and yearning to fuck a stranger and imagine it’s you, so he agrees.

“Let’s do it!”

---

And so, Sebastian now finds himself at a loss for words, staring at you. At you, sipping a cocktail, half sitting on a bar stool, your back slightly arched. Honestly the picture is so inviting. Lewis is just looking at him with a smirk.

Sebastian sees that a couple men obviously have their eyes on you too. He watches as the bartender hands you a drink gesturing to one of the said men. You look over and the man starts to get up. Seb feels his fists tighten, but he relaxes when you hand the drink back to the bartender looking at the man apologetically. He’s glad the man gets the idea and sits back down, Seb doesn’t want to think what he would have done if the man had persisted.

Wait, so maybe you’re just out for a nice night alone, he doesn’t want to disturb that. But dressed like that? He’s having a hard time resisting.

“Lewis what do I do?” He asks. “The flirt is asking me?“ Lewis scoffs, but when Seb just looks at him annoyed, he Chuckles; he’s never seen the confident man so nervous before. “Just, go get him tiger.”

He knows it’s now or never, so Sebastian goes to the opposite end of the bar and tells the bartender to get you a drink.

-- The bartender hands you another drink. It’s top shelf which catches your eye. A couple men have bought you shots and stuff throughout the night but so far when the bartender pointed to who they all weren’t your type. Or they quickly stopped being your type the moment they opened their mouths.

When you ask who, this time, the bartender cocks his head to the end of the bar. You look over and it’s Sebastian! Your eyes go wide, unsure of what to do. What is he doing here?! Here, where you are looking like a complete faggot and nothing like you do at work. But he’s your friend right, he would’ve found out eventually and he just bought you a drink?

You tamp down the flicker of hope that tries to spark. So you just smile and raise the drink to him raising your eyebrows. It’s friendly coworker shit right? He’s just being nice. Your brain is forced to stop working overtime when he approaches you and starts speaking.

“I could barely recognize you y/n!” He says smiling and friendly, but with a hint of something? And he is blatantly looking you up and down. Tongue between his teeth. Oh. You can’t help lighting up despite being nervous. “Well let’s just say the Ferrari uniform is not my personal style.” You joke. “This definitely suits you much better.” He blatantly flirts, which catches you bit off guard, but you try not to show it, excitement now replacing your nerves. “You think the boss will let me wear a crop top to work?” “Maybe I could ask him nicely.” Sebastian says and then leans closer.

“Having something so pretty in my garage can only bring me good luck right?” “Oh, I don’t think you need luck, Seb.” You laugh because now you are definitely blushing.

“Every driver needs luck.” He says low.

The way he's looking at you. It’s almost too much. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted. In the span of a few minutes you’ve basically come out to a coworker turned friend, but also discovered that apparently Sebastian Vettel, Ferrari driver, four time world champion also likes men. And now said Ferrari driver and friend is flirting with you.

You can't wait to see where the night goes.

#to be continued?#my writing #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x male reader #f1 x you #f1 fic #sebastian vettel x reader #Sebastian vettel x male!reader #sv5 x reader #sv5 #sv5 fanfic

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eeunoia · 2 days

Text

ENHYPEN Imagines

insolitus | yjw.

part two

pairings: yang jungwon x reader

synopsis: you’ve always thought jungwon is out of this world, out of ordinary. he’s someone who seems familiar but at the same time mysterious for almost everybody. you didn’t expect that he himself will unfold more of him with you and it was an insolitus experience.

word count: 3k

warnings: yandere themes, mention of murder, violence, obsessive love, grammatical errors, kissing. (let me know if i missed some)

note: this is the part two of our insolitus. i suggest you read the first one before this. you can find it here › part one. thank you for waiting. leave some replies and reblog this post. i would really appreciate it. send me some asks! ily & stay safe. look out for part three.

fic moodboard › here

“Are you stupid?! We had a plan, Jungwon! Why did you impulsively made a decision by yourself?!” his hyung quickly took a hold of his collar, jaw clenched and eyes enraged.

One of their friends came closer and placed a hand over Heeseung’s shoulder to stop him from doing something towards Jungwon. The younger one doesn’t seem fazed about it. His eyes remained blank and he’s very much relaxed despite the situation.

It wasn’t new to his friends. This is how he normally react on things. Jungwon’s usually calm and precise. He’s very reserved and doesn’t react aggressively.

“Don’t worry. I wasn’t caught.” he stated calmly that pisses his hyung even more.

Heeseng’s jaw clenched hardly. “And that’s suppose to make things better? Jungwon you were interrogated at the police station. If it weren’t for your Father’s influence, you’d be in judicial right now!” he couldn’t help for his voice to raise due to so much anger for the younger one's bold move.

He was really upset and seeing Jungwon reacting so calmly triggers something in him even more. Jungwon tilts his head slightly and smirks.

“Are you worried that I was almost caught or you’re scared that this may affect negatively on your plan from getting your girl, hyung?”

Heeseung was caught off-guard, but he didn’t let it show on his face. He kept his stern look and his hold over his collar. Jungwon scoffs before shoving his hold off from him then he raised his chin up, unbothered.

“You’re making a mess on my uniform.” he stated before putting his hands inside his pockets.

Heeseung’s jaw clenched harder and was about to take advance, but he was stopped by Jay and Sunghoon. Their other friends remained silent while watching them argue.

People will probably go ferral if they heard what kind of thoughts they have. They will probably be put straight to a mental facility if someone else knew about their dark plans. It all started by harmless attraction towards their special someone. They didn’t even realized how it escalated into something like this.

They have the power and money so things can be a lot easier for them. It isn’t a big town, so influence and money have big impacts over the flow of life the people living here. They used it to their advantage into fulfilling their plans. Into getting what they want.

“My plan worked. I just messed the order, but we can just resume to how it used to be. Right after y/n, you can finally take your girl.” Jungwon said referring towards Heeseung.

“And you think they won’t be suspicious of people missing one after another? It’s a small town! Almost everyone here knows everybody.”

“Heeseung hyung’s right, Won. Not to mention that you murdered someone. That’s not on the plan.” Jake.

“The world will rotate just fine even if he’s gone.” his friends couldn’t believe they’re hearing these words from Jungwon. The very same guy who people see as a model student, someone very responsible and very kind.

His Father’s a public servant so it’s just natural for him to be helpful to everyone around him. People in their right minds won’t ever think of him to be having this kind of thoughts.

“Jungwon, we have to delay our plans because y/n’s parents will probably look for her. We cannot just continue or else it will raise concern to people of the town. It will be more difficult moving onto our next plan.” Jake tries to make him understand as much as possible.

Finally, Jungwon seems to take in his hyung’s words well. He sighs and nods his head.

“I will check and see what I can do so the public won’t get suspicious about it.” he glances at his friends one by one and they’re looking at him seriously. Some reflects worry.

“Don’t worry about the police interrogation as well, my Father made sure that it will not come out on public.”

They all nod their heads except from Heeseung and was left with no choice but to start replanning once again. After-all, there’s no point on getting mad at him since it was already done. What they can do is to keep an eye on Jungwon after they witnessed what he’s capable of. It is a bit alarming, but they cannot do anything about it as of the moment.

They all decided to go on with their day as usual, like as if they didn’t just almost beat each other out.

“May I excuse Mr. Yang, Miss Lim.” everyone in the class whipped their heads at the door when their principal entered.

Their teacher nodded her head and asked Jungwon to excuse himself. He stood up confidently and bows politely once to their teacher before following their principal outside their classroom.

Jake eyes Heeseung worriedly. They’re wondering why he was called outside. Did the school perhaps discovered his involvement about the incident? Hopefully not.

Jungwon eyed your Mother as the principal tries to comfort her. Your Father is beside his beloved wife, caressing her arm and whispering things such as ‘It's okay' or 'We’re going to find her'

He wanted to scoff and tell to their faces that there is no way that they will find you. He wants to laugh at how devastated they look right now. But instead of doing that, he showed a look of empathy.

“This is Yang Jungwon, the president of our Student Council. He will help with the volunteers for the search of your daughter. We will also put up signs and her pictures all over the town so more people will be aware.” the principal informed them.

He saw how hope ignites over their eyes at the sight of Jungwon. He bows and as his face is not visible to their eyes, a smirk plastered over his handsome face.

“I’m Yang Jungwon, Mr and Mrs (Surname). I will do my best to help searching for your daughter.” to his surprise, your Mother took a hold of his hand. Her crying eyes seems so familiar for me and just later on he will realize that it reminds him of you.

The very same look she has reminds him of your crying eyes while you beg him to let you go. Jungwon almost scoffs at the memory. Something about you begging to him just makes him so excited. Boost his pride and stroke his ego.

“My Father is also the governor and I will surely ask for his assistance for this case.” he added and the joy over your parents eyes just got even more intense.

They couldn’t believe how kind this young man is, not knowing that he’s actually the mastermind to your disappearance. Jungwon gently caress your Mother’s back to calm her down. He felt so evil trying to comfort her when he knows very well he was the reason for their pain. It gives him so much power. He felt like they were under him, powerless.

“What did the principal said?” Jake was eager to know what happened when Jungwon was excused.

Jungwon smiles and put his hand inside his pocket. “Nothing to worry. They just want us to hold a meeting to let everyone know about her disappearance.”

He can almost see the relief through his eyes. The other boys just watch silently. Heeseung pursed his lips and didn’t say anything else. He’s still a little mad for how impulsive his friend acted. They’re just lucky he didn’t ruin so much of their plans.

Sounds of multiple things breaking echoes through the hallway of the Yang’s mansion. It was almost 9 pm and the whole house are like usual. Quiet. Except from the sound of another thing, getting broken.

“Go away! Leave me the fuck alone!” your screams are loud and there’s no doubt that it will hurt your throat.

Tears streams down your face while the people from that house kept their distance, trying not to trigger any more of your emotions. They’re just trying to feed you when you suddenly starting acting this way.

A week being abducted by Jungwon felt like a year already. Time is so slow, the fear of what’s he’s about to do occupies your mind all the time, the punishment he sets whenever you disobey him and you missed your family already.

“What’s going on here?”

Everyone, including you, stops and heads turned to look over the newly arrived Yang Jungwon. His placid expression as he roams his eyes around the whole room made your knees weak. It was obvious that he’s unhappy about it. Probably not because you broke vases and things that cost so much, but because you are once again disobeying his orders.

He’s been somewhere, volunteering to help your poor parents to look for you. They’re just so pitiful and Jungwon’s the very nice boy and responsible president of the student council. His father even sent people to assist every volunteer, provided free food and water. Your family, friends and even schoolmates went around the town to search for you.

Without even knowing that the one who took her was with them, a ghost of smile spreads his face while thinking how stupid every one of them. The true wolf under the sheep skin.

Your eyes shakes in fear at the sight of Jungwon. He’s wearing a plain white shirt that emphasize his broad shoulders and a sweatpants. His hair’s not properly brushed like how he do it whenever he goes to school. Right now, he really do look a normal boy. Except, he isn’t normal at all.

“S-She started to get out of hand and breaking everything, Sir.” despite being years older than Jungwon, he fears him. Just indicates how much power he holds.

He glanced at him and the man lowers his head, hands hardly pressed together.

“Leave us alone.” he demanded that made your soul left your body.

He is scary while having all these people around. What more if you two are left alone? Panic went into your system at the sight of them leaving the room, trying to gather some pieces of the things you broke.

You scurry and tried to stop one of them from leaving or maybe leave this room together. But Jungwon uses one of his arm to halt your steps, wrapping it around your waist and without so much effort he hold you still.

“N-No, d-don’t leave me!” you screamed, your eyes brim with tears. Even how much you try to escape from his hold, it was no use. He’s so much stronger.

“Don’t piss me off, y/n.” his low tone sent shivers to your spine.

For the past days you are with him, there are things you noticed about Jungwon. He’s not that patient, he do tries to be but then suddenly snap once you push his buttons continuously. His eyes softens while staring at you, but if you say things he doesn’t like they turn dark. And its terrifying.

“Let me go! Let me fucking go!” you screamed through your lungs.

“What did I say about shouting?” he asks in a strict tone that slightly made you anxious.

You gulped and kept your glares shooting at him. “Fuck you.”

He clenches his jaw hardly and hold both of your wrist before lightly pushing you towards the bed. His action made you sat over the soft mattress of your bed. With tear stained eyes, you glared at him. He stared down at you before going to get your food that was settled by the corner table.

Your eyes follows him silently, glares almost digging holes at the back of his head.

“You need to eat.” he doesn’t sound mad, but he definitely not pleased as well.

With one hand carrying the tray of food and the other slipping inside his pocket, he struts his way towards you. You lift your chin, hiding your fear behind the teary eyes and trying your best to look brave in front of him.

Even if you know that one touch from him, and you’ll crumble in fear. One look with those eyes and you will feel weak.

When he was near enough, you pushed the tray and it wasn’t long until all of its contents scattered all over the floor. His eyes follows it down the floor before he jaw clenched harder and hand clenches into fists.

“I said I don’t want to! I want to go home! Leave me alone! I hate you! I fucking hate you!” you scream towards him then stood up to hit him by his chest.

Jungwon stood still and unbothered by your action. He stared down with dangerous eyes as he let you do it to him. When he couldn’t take it anymore, he swiftly grabbed your wrist and pressed you over the near wall.

You yelped and groaned, feeling hurt when your back came in contact to the hard surface. He doesn’t seem bothered even after you winced in pain.

One of his hand rests over your hip while the other raised to hold your neck. His pretty slim fingers wrapped over it, putting pressure on it enough to limit your oxygen. Your eyes waters even more in fear and slight depravation to breath properly.

“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?”

The memory of him stabbing (ex boyfriend) multiple times with no remorse in his eyes flashes back your mind. It was terrifying and you can feel all your nerves shaking. His eyes bore into you, and stared right straight to your eyes.

You whimpered and tried to escape from him, but he didn’t even budged.

“It will be a lot easier if you just obey me,” he murmured under his breath. He was too close that it fan your skin, making you shiver.

You tried catching your breath and calming your mind. Slowly, you stopped resisting and you held on his arm that was slightly choking you. Jungwon’s pretty eyes follows your action then trailed back to your eyes. When he saw how it softens and the look of surrender flickers through them, his heart thumped faster.

He couldn’t explain what exactly he was feeling. Something tugs inside his chest and warmth flamed, invading his whole system. He slowly loosen his hold over your neck and hand slid down, rested just right above your chest. He can feel your heart beating so fast and he was thrilled.

You kept staring at his eyes. To see how much you affect him is very fascinating even for you. Even if you’re scared, tired and hungry from all the stunt you pulled a while ago, you tried to keep standing on your feet.

Both of his hands are now at your sides, resting on your hips to keep you in place. He caged you between him and the wall behind you. The whole room fell silent to the point that you can almost hear your loud heart beating.

You sighed heavily and slowly leans your forehead over his chest. Jungwon was caught off-guard. Are you finally opening up at him? Did he really did it?

One of his hand slid over your waist, the other to the small of your back to pull you closer to him. To feel you between his arms are making him lose his mind. He placed a kiss on top of your head and smirks, feeling giddy inside.

“See? That’s not so bad.” he mumbled near your ear.

You licked your lips and shut your eyes for a while to rethink your life decisions. After making up your mind, you lift your head up to once again look at his eyes.

Compared from a while ago, they look more remorseful. He looks so concerned and when his eyes dropped to your slightly red neck, a hint of worry appeared on his eyes.

“Does it hurt...” he was once again caught off guard when he just felt your hot lips smashed on his.

Wait. Your hot lips. Your. Lips.

Jungwon blinks a couple of times, trying to wake himself up from the dream if ever he’s inside one. But no. You are kissing him.

His grip over your waist tightens and he closed his eyes to start kissing you back. He slightly pushed you towards the wall, this time very gently. His other hand even placed behind your head just so you wouldn’t hit it hardly.

He tilt his head and kissed you hungrily, making you gasp for air. His soft hot lips makes your stomach churns. Even if you try to kill whatever that feeling forming your chest, it was no use. Yang Jungwon is really making you feel these things. You’re indenial, but he’s the only one that gave you butterflies and make you feel terrified at the same time. Oddly, it felt... good.

Jungwon groans on your lips and pressed his body towards you even more. You whimpered and tried moving away to catch some air. He lets you, but kept his face so close. Your noses touching.

Both of you are gasping for air while staring dirftly at each other’s eyes. He smirks and gently pressed his forehead at yours while he stare down at your now swollen lips.

“You taste so sweet.” he whispered.

You gulped and tip toed before wrapping your arms over his nape to give him another kiss. Jungwon’s more delighted to wrap his arm over your waste, responding to your hot kisses.

He used to imagine having you like this and it already drives him crazy. Now that he’s experiencing it, he’s done for it. He’s ruined. He’s down bad for you.

“Agh,” he grunts when you bit his lips so hard.

He slightly pulled away and you used that chance to push him hard. He was caught off-guard and still high from your kiss so it made him step back a few times.

You hurried your way towards the door and burst it open. Surprisingly, there are no one by the hallway. You bolted and just run without having any idea where to go to. All you know is that you need to get away from Yang Jungwon.

Suddenly the memory of your hot kiss flashes through your mind and it made you halt from your steps. You let out a frustrated sigh then smack your head once.

“Snap out of it, y/n!” and you went back on finding your way out.

Even before you can turn to the next corner, the whole mansion turned dark. Your feet stopped and stood frozen on the spot. The lights are all turned off.

Tears started forming your eyes as your heart thumped loudly out of fear. You know for sure that he’s very much pissed off for what you did and now he will hunt you. This is his home, you are in complete disadvantage. The night felt colder as you try to hide yourself inside the corner of the first room you found. Trying to hug yourself and not make any sound.

You shut your eyes and silently prayed that he won’t manage to find you here, although you’re sure he will. Tears stream down your eyes as your clenched your fists, body shaking.

Jungwon smirks as he orders them not to meddle. He stared blankly at the dark hallway of their mansion. The only thing that serves a light was the bright moon outside, its light shining through some gap from the big curtains of the windows.

He strides the hallway while whistling, each steps are slow and obviously taking his own time. He seemed relax as he kicked the first door to his right open. He tries to roam his eyes as it adjusts to the dark.

He’s suppose to feel enraged for what you just pulled a while ago. His lips have a stain of blood from your hard bite, but a smirk spreads across his face. But after tasting you, he just couldn’t seem to be in a bad mood. He couldn’t get enough of you.

And there’s no way he will ever let you go. You belong to him. So that’s why you end up in that situation, a predator hunting its pitiful and helpless prey.

main master-list

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#enhypen #eeunoiaverse #eeunioa #eeunoiawrites #enhypen imagines #yandere enhypen #enhypen yang jungwon #enhypen jungwon yandere #enhypen jungwon x reader #enhypen jungwon imagines #enhypen jungwon #enhypen jungwon fic

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princessbrunette · 3 days

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HOLDONNNNN now that u jogged my memory of tattooartist!pope… how wld he feel when u start teasing him every other day with the tattoos youre getting.. maybe today youre asking him for a tramp stamp then a couple of days later youre back asking for a tattoo in your cleavage like… do u get my vision

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you’d joined the pogues on their little trip to their favourite diner — and whilst they were up at the counter ordering their food you’d been left all alone at the booth with pope. despite there being plenty of space for everyone, you couldn’t help but be squished right up against his side — feeling a clinginess for the tattoo artist you had such a crush on.

“m’thinking of making an appointment with you soon.” you smile, wrapping your glossy, glittery lips round the straw to your milkshake— making his eyes flutter, lingering on your mouth before jumping up to your eyes.

“yeah? i can definitely fit you in. what were you thinking of getting?” he’s sure he’s playing it calm and collected, but he can never tell — not being able to shake the feeling that he was still a little bit of a nerd, despite the stereotypical cool-guy job he had now.

“mm, i have a few options. i just know i want you to do it, you seem like you’re really good at what you do.” you compliment, an inkling of shyness crossing over your face as you choose to gaze at the sticky laminate menus on the table instead. he smiles humbly, shrugging his shoulders a little and holding up a palm, wiggling his fingers.

“what can i say, steady hands.” he jokes before looking over you once more. “so uh, talk me through your options. i can help you out.”

you bite your bottom lip for a moment like you’re repressing a giggle before turning your body to him fully. he tries to ignore the way your velour skirt rides a little higher up your thigh.

“you ever done a tramp stamp?” you ask hopefully. he blinks for a moment before his brown eyes light up in recognition.

“like… the lower back tattoo? uh, maybe one or two. is that what you’re wanting?” he tilts his head, imagining you laying on your front in his chair, getting to touch your skin. you made him feel entirely unprofessional.

“well it’s between that or…” you pinch the ruching on your top at the centre of your bust, dragging it down between your breasts as his eyes nervously follow — feeling like he’s not allowed to be looking there. “or something right here.” you point to the smooth skin beneath the middle of your tits, the fat of them curtaining the space you refer to. he swallows thickly, like — full on gulps like a cartoon character as he takes in your request.

“i mean that… that can certainly look pretty too. it’s your choice really, i can’t tell you what to get.” his eyes return to yours when you let go of your top, letting it snap back into place, as well as snap him back into reality.

“mhm, i suppose so. do you just… do you have any insight on what might suit me better? i was telling jj i might get a tat soon, so if not i suppose i can just ask him…” you trail off when he sits up a little straighter in his seat, shaking his head so fast he felt his cheeks move.

“no, no, no— i’m the tattoo artist here i should really, you know — be the one helping you. look— personally, i think a lower back tattoo would suit you. would compliment your style, you know? why don’t you swing by this week and bring me some designs. i’m happy to figure somethin’ out with you.” he’s quick to jump into business and you grin, nodding.

“yeah?”

“sure. anytime you want.” he promises as everyone returns to the table. he drums his hands on the wood as the bustling conversation and debates fire off automatically, your melodic laugh beside him sounding as you quickly get sucked in. he wants to join in too, he really does — but he can’t get the vision of you laying on your front, wincing and groaning at the sting of the needle as he shushes you and talks you through it out of his mind.

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#anon #tattooartist!pope #pope heyward prompt

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evilyn-is-gay · 2 days

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Hey guys

Guess what drained my love for one of the things keeping me going?

Thanks for this, guys, there’s a fucking reason why I love this show and it’s for its wonderful representation. You literally said “why are you projecting onto us? You weirdo.” Like HEY. DID YOU EVER FUCKING THINK THAT THATS HOW I COPE WITH MY PROBLEMS? I’m glad we got the confirmation that Sun isn’t an alcoholic or suicidal, but MAYBE THAT WOULDVE BEEN SOLVED IF YOU EXPANDED ON IT MORE. Using an annoying character (which you thought was funny to name Hatsune Miku no less) to mock the mentally ill fans that want to project onto a character like Sun is EXTREMELY FUCKED. There’s a god damn reason why we’ve said these things. I’m doing my English final on Sun’s mental state and WHILE PROVIDING EVIDENCE how he isn’t as stable as others think. Sun is better than he once was, but to say that his only issue is having anger management problems is a fucking lie. I always (after he said he wasn’t an alcoholic) referred to the alcohol drinking being on the verge of alcoholism but not really alcoholism.

Sun was my favorite after Lunar died and has stayed my favorite since then and a main reason is because everything he was doing was just like me. I always said I could ‘tell’ if the characters (especially Sun) were okay or not and with this episode I feel grossly called out. This wasn’t what people wanted at confirmation. TREATING THE MENTALLY ILL PEOPLE WATCHING YOUR SHOW ABOUT MENTALLY ILL JESTERS LIKE THEYRE AN ANNOYING OBSESSIVE FAN THAT THINKS WRONG HEADCANONS IS FUCKING SICK/neg.

I really hope I gain my hyperfixation back or else I don’t know what I’m going to do with my time anymore.

#sun and moon show #the sun and moon show #tsams #tsams sun #sams sun #yeah fuck this episode fuck you #rant post #sams #SAMS makes a mockery of hatsune miku and mentally ill people

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raayllum · 2 days

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i'm gonna break down the poster later but for now I wanna talk about the poem

As others have noticed the first letter of each line, read bottom to top, spell out "The Red Wedding" which is likely the episode title, so I'm not going to speculate too much on that.

Like we know at this point hardly anything is accidental in TDP especially when there's blatant opportunities to hide clues, so with that in mind, I want to look at stanza by stanza to the best of my ability.

Gnash your teeth, O Dragon Fierce! Night’s not far away

"Gnash" is an aggressive reference to teeth, which makes me think of "ivory draconic" for the Nova Blade, but also of scenes yet explained (the arc 1 intro of human warriors gathered on one side of the border, and Thunder's display of power). However, I think it's likely that what the poem is referring to is even farther back in history, given that "night" might refer to a time period (i.e. the stars leaving) happening soon.

In the sky that watchful eye Does weep and stare and pierce

"White as the star's heart it pierced" and we see eyes in reference to dragons' ire against Elarion. That said, this "watchful eye" could belong to a long ago Startouch elf (Aaravos, Laurelion, Leola?) who cared about what was happening, hence being 'watchful.' Pierce has a less peaceful connotation, but this section of the poem definitely reads as "in the past to me" (I say, preparing to eat my words in the future)

Dance away, O Golden Queen! Eternal fiery flame While shadows jeer into your ear Don’t forge a blade from shame

This, meanwhile, feels like a pretty straightforward reference to Janai in present day. She is both queen and the Golden Knight of Lux Aurea. Dancing is a part of Sunfire proposals, she has fire powers, and she's planning a wedding. "Shadows" could be references to her nightmares from Aaravos and the shadow monster creatures Karim's army is probably going to accidentally turn into thanks to Pharos' lingering corruption. She wields a Sunforge blade, of course, and has doubt/shame surrounding her choices and status as queen as it moves back and forth... so maybe "don't make a harsh choice out of shame/fear of unworthiness?" But we shall have to see.

Now onto what's probably my favourite stanza:

Eight in a line, O Chosen Mine! Ready for a war Endlessly burning Hopefully yearning That love will triumph once more!

"Eight in a line" makes me lose my mind because there's 8 pieces across the board in chess (2 rooks, 2 knights, 2 bishops make 6, + 1 king and queen make 8; as well as 8 pawns, of course). "O Chosen Mine" also makes it sound like Aaravos is the speaker of the poem, which given that he's someone poetry has been written about up until now, is deliciously meta.

"Ready for a war" might apply most straightforwardly to the Sunfire elves, but I don't think we even have eight named Sunfire characters in show, so it must encompass more main players. Perhaps unrest in the Pentarchy, and of course, the Dragang taking steps to try to go to war against and defeat Aaravos.

"Endlessly burning" has a couple different meanings, given that 1) fire cannot burn forever, 2) it seems humans were gifted sun magic first way back when, and 3) fire/burning has a more positive association with light. "Hopefully yearning" has a positive connotation, even if people on both sides can have hope for various reasons ("There is one weird hope" from Claudia in 4x01 vs Ezran's "There is a hope" in 3x03, etc). To yearn for something is to have "a strong feeling of wishing for something, especially something that you cannot have or get easily" and we know that wishes and wants are something that can go from good to bad in TDP's world, especially when it comes to Aaravos.

The characters are hoping/working/wishing that "Love will triumph once more," the way it did for them in 3x09. This reflects back into love > control, narrative of love > narrative of power, etc. It also caps off this stanza of "eight in the line" having the game motif, and then triumphing also indicates winning the game.

But, of course, they can't. Not in S6, anyway. 😈

#tdp #tdp meta #the dragon prince #6x07 #s6 spoilers #arc 2 #s6 speculation #predictions #analysis series #analysis #tdp spoilers

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permanentswaps · 3 hours

Text

Grindr Swap With A Twink

Read Part 1 from @ghostinthedude here.

Lets just say that college was a LOT of fun. Sure, on the outside I looked like an immature pretty boy with nothing going through his head. But on the inside, I was a self-possessed adult, who knew exactly what he wanted.

From them moment I set foot on campus, I was inundated with attention from upperclassmen guys – and even some of the younger professors – who were eager to get to get me into their beds. I won’t go too much into the details, but I definitely got around that year.

Eventually, I hit my growth spurt. Better late than never I guess. And over the course of sophomore year I had packed on about 20 lbs of muscle, grew a solid 6 inches, and got a haircut. By junior year, I was no longer a slutty bottom twink being plowed by every closeted senior on the football team, I was a sexy vers twunk making my way through the swim roster.

All the while, I was acing all my classes, leading me to graduate Summa Cum Laude and get a job in investment banking for next year. I knew its going to be a hard path, but it made my parents so proud and it will set me up financially for the rest of my career. This week, I just moved into a brand new apartment by myself in Boston’s Back Bay. I’m due to start work in a few weeks, but I wanted to get settled in, explore the city, make some friends, and maybe even build up a roster (I’m not gonna have a ton of time to meet guys once work starts up).

---

That’s why tonight, I found myself scrolling through Grindr. Here's my profile pics btw:

There’s quite a selection to choose from. Hmmm, the international guys from Harvard seem kinda hot, but I bet they’re super full of themselves. What about a true Boston native, there’s something weirdly sexy about their accents.

I kept scrolling until one guy caught my eye, making my stomach flip. It was my old body, he had tapped my profile. That's weird, I thought he would still be in Cincinnati. But anyway, his profile is kinda super hot:

"Hey, what's up," I messaged.

"Hey cutie, how's it going?" he replied.

"Alright alright, just moved to town, looking for some fun," I joked, trying to keep the conversation light.

"Hahaha, I love some fun," he replied, his enthusiasm evident even through text. "Top or bttm?"

"Vers ;)" I replied.

"I can work with that," he replied eagerly. "So, what's your name?"

I couldn't help but chuckle to myself. "You really don't know?"

"No, why would I, cutie?" he responded.

"I just figured you'd remember your own face after all these years," I teased, adding, "Although I guess it's not your face anymore."

"OMG.”

I quickly sent him my location, to which he responded almost immediately, “Be there in 20.”

---

"Shit," he said as he walked through the door, looking around wide eyed. "This place is super nice."

"Yeah, I mean, it's not totally furnished yet, but it's pretty nice," I replied, trying to downplay it a bit.

"How did you afford it? I know my parents don’t exactly have deep pockets," he asked, genuine curiosity in his tone.

"Yeah, actually," I began, feeling a pang of sympathy for my former self, "I got such good grades freshman year that I actually got a scholarship for the rest of college. And now..."

My old body's expression shifted, a hint of sadness creeping in.

“And now, I’ll be making 110k starting with no loans. So yeah mom and dad didn’t really need to give me anything.” I said, feeling a bit odd that he still referred to them as his parents. “And how about you," I asked, trying to keep the conversation going. "Where are you living these days?"

"Oh, I have a shared flat in Dorchester," he replied. "It's nothing special, but it's all I can afford on a bartender's salary."

"You moved all the way out here for a bartending gig?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said with a shrug. "I didn't really have a choice. I got fired from my last job for showing up late too many times and kinda got blacklisted from all the good bars in Cincinnati. But a buddy who had moved out here set me up with a new gig. It's okay, I guess."

"But anyway," he said, changing the subject, "look at you, you've done really well for yourself."

I couldn't help but smirk as I ran my hand down my toned abs. He wasn't wrong.

"And you," I said, diverting the attention away from myself, "you must still be pulling in all the hot twinks with that bod."

"Hahaha, yeah," he replied, his confidence shining through. "Although none of them are as sexy as you are."

His compliment caught me off guard, but I couldn't help but be drawn in as he pulled me in for a kiss. The chemistry between us was undeniable as we quickly made our way to the bedroom, shedding our clothes with eager anticipation.

He climbed on top of me, his lips finding their way to my eager member. I couldn't help but marvel at how he still remembered all the right moves. Within minutes, he had me on the edge, his skilled hands finding their way to my sensitive nipples, pushing me to climax.

With a satisfied grin, he eagerly swallowed every last drop of my load. Luckily for him, I had a rapid recharge time, and I was ready to go for round two within minutes.

As he whipped out his beer can thick cock, memories flooded back. I remembered that thing—it was definitely fun to top twinks, or twunks like myself, back in the day.

In doggy, he hugged my body tightly, in a way that felt almost nostalgic. It was almost like he was reminiscing about living in this body, even though it didn’t look anything like this when he last had it.

Then, with surprising finesse, he flipped me over into missionary, his eyes locking with mine as our bodies moved in sync.

In a half-whisper, he asked me a question that caught me off guard: "Can we swap back?"

Just then, it dawned on me. To swap back, we both needed to swallow each other’s cum. Panic surged through me. He had already swallowed mine. Shit.

Still thrusting into me, he paused, his eyes searching mine with a mix of desperation and longing. "No, you don’t understand," he pleaded. "This could’ve been my life."

Struggling to fight him through the ecstasy I was feeling from his cock plunging into me, I shook my head. "No, it wouldn’t be," I gasped out between breaths. "You'd never work hard enough for this."

I looked up and saw a look come across his face that I’d know anywhere. He was about to cum. I couldn't let him pull out and risk the chance of him trying to shoot his load all over my face.

Quickly, I pushed him backwards and positioned myself on top of him, impaling myself on his throbbing cock in cowboy. He looked up at me, a mixture of bliss and regret evident in his expression as his load erupted.

Relieved but seething with anger, I stepped off the bed and quickly grabbed his pants, tossing them at him with a firm command. "Get out," I said, my voice carrying an edge of finality. "And don't contact me again."

He silently complied, skulking towards the door where he saw himself out. Locking it behind him, I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding.

Returning to the bedroom mirror, I faced my reflection with a newfound clarity. Taking a good, hard look at myself, I uttered the words that had been swirling in my mind.

"I am Devin Connors," I declared, the weight of the statement settling over me. "And I deserve everything that I’ve worked for."

Really happy with how this one turned out. Let me know if you have any suggestions for which story I should finish next.

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eretzyisrael · 17 hours

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by Jack Elbaum

Videos from recent pro-Hamas protests and encampments on university campuses show demonstrators attacking and threatening Jewish and pro-Israel individuals, as well as making explicit calls for violence.

On some campuses, administrators have decided to call in police forces to remove the encampments. Others have been more hesitant to do so or have been refused help by the city.

The encampments have reportedly made some Jewish students feel unsafe on campus. The Algemeiner documented an extensive list of pro-Hamas and antisemitic statements made at the Columbia University encampment shortly after it was set up. However, some observers have argued those statements are not representative of the movement as a whole.

Meanwhile, many voices have argued for the removal of the encampments on the grounds that members of them have attacked and threatened pro-Israel or Jewish students. But others don’t believe any physical threats or attacks have taken place. Journalist Glenn Greenwald, for example, called the idea of such attacks “a massive hoax that they’ve been perpetrating for months.”

Here is a non-exhaustive list of some of the recent physical attacks and explicit calls for violence on campuses that suggest such fears are not simply a “hoax,” although debate will likely continue over how representative these incidents are of the larger anti-Israel movement.

At the University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA), a girl from a nearby school was kicked in the head and knocked unconscious. She had to go to the emergency room.

A video shows anti-Israel protesters detaining a pro-Israel student at UCLA. When he tried to escape, they chased him down, with at least one person exclaiming “get him,” and surrounded him again — making it impossible for him to leave.

Footage shows a woman following around a man — who was not engaging with her — and attempting to tase him.

A student journalist at Yale University was poked in the eye with a Palestinian flag by a protester. She had to be brought to the hospital.

At The George Washington University (GW), students acted out a “people’s tribunal,” where they charged the president of the university, Ellen Granberg, along with other members of the administration with various crimes. “Guillotine, Guillotine, Guillotine, Guillotine,” members of the encampment chanted.

A leader of the “people’s tribunal” said, “Bracey, Bracey [referring to school provost Christopher Bracey], we see you. You assault students too. Off to the motherf—king gallows with you.” She also said, “As you already know where I am sending her [to the guillotine], her and her f—kass bob.”

Also at GW, when pro-Israel activist and Israel Defense Forces reservist Rudy Rochman came to campus, he was surrounded and people chanted, in Arabic, “God winning, Allah will take your life,” according to his video of the incident.

At DePaul University, an anti-Israel demonstrator displayed “10 fingers, followed by seven fingers [referencing Hamas’ massacre across southern Israel on Oct. 7], and then the throat-slitting gesture in front of Jewish students.”

A visibly Jewish person filming an encampment at City University of New York was surrounded by a group and assaulted. When his kippah fell off, a member of the mob threatened, “Pick up the f—king hat, I’ll f—k you up.”

A group of anti-Israel protesters stole a man’s Star of David headscarf and beat him near the Met Gala in New York on Monday.

At Emory University, a protester threw a sign at the head of a police officer while a group was trying to push the officers back against a door.

Protesters were roaming around UCLA looking for Jews to harass and confront. “Where the Jews at, my n—a,” one exclaimed.

Demonstrators at Columbia University took over a building violently and held janitors there against their will.

#pro-hamas protests #violence #violence against jewish students

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matttgirlies · 2 days

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Matt & Me🎀

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - drinking,, sexual references

y/nn = your nickname if your confused🩷

Chapter 8

After Christmas we did something exciting every night, usually beginning after midnight. Sometimes Matt rented either the Memphian or the Malco theater to watch movies. Other times he rented the entire Rainbow Skating Rink, the infamous roller rink I’d heard so much about.

My first night there I was lacing up my skates when the boys asked me, “Do you know how to skate?”

“Sure,” I said.

“But do you know how to skate?” they persisted.

I got the message real fast when a box of knee pads was passed around. This was not your ordinary around the rink to organ music skating. The idea here was to keep your bones intact.

I wobbled onto the rink only to wobble off. I wasn’t about to stay on that floor after seeing the determined looks on the other skaters’ faces. They made the Roller Derby look mild. From the sideline, I watched them rounding the rink, adjusting their jackets and shirts so they weren’t too tight and checking that their arms and legs were securely padded.

Then Matt skated into their midst, calling out, “Okay, everybody. Y’all clear the way on the sidelines. I don’t want anybody hurt over there. Honey, why don’t you get on the other side there with Louise [Gene Smith’s wife]. The rest of you, get your asses somewhere else.” They all started laughing, and he said, “Okay, let’s go!”

About twenty-five skaters locked hands, forming what they called a whip. Skating abreast, they began circling the rink, building up speed. The objective of the game was to remain unscathed at speeds of over ten miles per hour. It could be very dangerous if you were to lose your balance or if you were at the tail end, when, by turning quickly, they all “cracked the whip.”

There were a lot of falls, but despite the danger, Matt seemed to know exactly what he was doing. I noticed that whenever someone was hurt, he was the first to see if they were all right and to decide if they should continue to play.

I still don’t know how anybody kept from getting seriously injured, yet no one complained and most of them were even willing to do it again the next night. It was rough, but as Matt put it, “If you’re man enough to get out there, then you better be man enough to take the licks.”

New Year’s Eve was approaching. Matt told Alan to rent the Manhattan Club for the evening and to invite about two hundred people, Matt’s friends and the presidents and other members of his fan clubs.

Although I was excited about the party, I couldn’t help thinking that after New Year’s Eve I would have to leave. Matt kept telling me not to think about it. I noticed that whenever I mentioned a problem to him he’d just say, “It’ll all work out, don’t worry about it. I’ve got enough to think about without having to worry about that.”

He always avoided problems. If I was disturbed or depressed, or if I felt we were becoming distant and wanted to get closer by talking it out, he avoided me or told me my timing was bad. There was never a good time.

Once I reproached him about the attention he was lavishing on the girlfriend of one of the regulars. She was very attractive, about my height, with black hair and a nice figure. She had come into the kitchen, where several of us were sitting, and Matt, who was wearing dark sunglasses, began making comments like, “Boy, it’s getting warm in here. Anybody else warm?”

I was so upset I left the room. I waited for him to go upstairs, then followed shortly behind him. “Matt, I have to talk to you,” I said.

“Sure, Honey, what is it?”

“I saw the way you were eyeing that girl. It upset me.”

“Look, woman,” he said, losing his temper. “No one tells me who I can look at and who I can’t. Besides, your imagination’s getting carried away. I’ve seen her ass around here long before today.”

With that I stomped out, slamming the bedroom door. I felt betrayed that he’d even desire another woman and was annoyed that he’d never admit it. I became obsessed and watched what Matt liked, what attracted him, trying to be everything he ever imagined a woman could be, and more.

The New Year’s Eve party at the Manhattan Club started around 10 p.m., but Matt timed our arrival a few minutes before midnight. We just had time to order double screwdrivers when the countdown began. Then we all sang “Auld Lang Syne.”

As people shouted “Happy New Year!” Matt pulled me close and said, “Baby, I don’t want you to go back. You’re staying here. We’ll call your parents in the morning.”

I was in such a state of ecstasy that I didn’t notice what I was drinking: four double screwdrivers, all drunk through a straw. After one double, I was feeling high; after four, I was reeling. I went into the ladies’ room with Louise and stayed there for what seemed like hours, swaying back and forth in the stall, trying to get myself together.

When we finally returned to the table, I tried to act as if everything was okay, but Matt took one look at me and said, “Baby, we better get you home. You’re in no condition to be here.” He asked his old friend George Klein, the Memphis disc jockey, if he would take me home.

I spent most of the ride back to Graceland with my head out the window. George and his date walked me to the door, where we said good night, and I let myself in.

Gripping the banister, I slowly climbed the white stairs, shedding my clothing as I went: my jacket, purse, shoes, and blouse left in a long trail up the steps. By the time I reached the bedroom I was wearing only my bra and panties. I collapsed on the bed and passed out.

A few hours later I heard Matt tiptoe into the room and come over to me. His condition was not much better than mine. I could make out his silhouette against the ceiling above me. I didn’t stir. Gently, he took off the rest of my clothes. Then he kissed me and kissed me over and over. This night we almost went too far. His vow was nearly broken. My passion had gotten to him and under the influence of alcohol, he weakened. Then, before I knew what happened, he withdrew saying, “No. Not like this.” It had to be special, just as he’d always planned.

I have to admit that, at that moment i didn’t care if it was special and I didn’t care what he’d vowed. I didn’t care, in fact, what he wanted at all. I only knew I wanted him.

The next morning my head throbbed with a terrible hangover. I felt ashamed and embarrassed—and yet not at all sorry about what we’d done. He was a little closer to being all mine.

The moment of truth came when we called my father in Germany. Matt was on the extension in his office and I was on another phone somewhere else in the house. Though the connection to Wiesbaden was filled with static, there was no mistaking my father’s words.

“Young lady, I will not go through this conversation again. We made an agreement. You were to leave there on the second of January. You’ve got one day left and you’d better be on that flight!”

Matt interjected, “Captain, sir, if she could just stay a couple more days. I have to be back in L.A. soon, and it would be nice—”

“Matt, I can’t do that. She has to be back in school and that was the deal. I’m sorry. y/n y/ln, are you there?”

“Yes,” I answered.

“We’ll be at the airport. You know the time; we’ll see you then.”

I was furious. I flew into Matt’s office where, sitting behind his desk, he was just hanging up.

“I hate them. I hate them both,” I yelled like a spoiled child. “Why are they stopping us? They just want me home to babysit, to take care of the kids, that’s all.”

Matt’s face was flushed with anger. “We made a goddamn agreement—who the hell does he think he is, talking like that on the goddamn phone—him and his military upbringing.”

He grabbed the phone and called down to the kitchen, demanding, “Where’s my dad! He down there? Tell him to come upstairs to the office.”

Within seconds James was at the door. “What is it, Son?”

“Goddamn Captain y/ln,” he shouted. “We just called to see if y/nn could stay a few more days and he comes off with this cocky attitude and refuses with his jargon about making agreements.”

“Now calm down, Son. It ain’t that bad. He was probably just concerned about her being home in time for school.”

“School, what the hell do I care about school?” Matt snapped, ignoring James’s efforts to soothe him. “Put her into school here, that’ll solve everything. She doesn’t need school. Hell, they don’t teach you anything nowadays anyway.”

“Well, Son, she’s gonna have to go back, there ain’t no two ways about it, give or take a day or two.”

“Goddamn, Dad, you’re not helpin’ matters any,” Matt said, but he was beginning to calm down. He sat back in his big desk chair and swiveled it around to face the window, then gazed out toward the pastures. Finally he turned around and announced that he had a plan.

Matt’s strategy called for me to return to Germany and to arrive in good spirits, then to concentrate on doing well in school so that my parents wouldn’t be able to use my poor grades as an excuse for not letting me return. Matt wanted me to finish high school in Boston and to that end he would make arrangements for me to return as soon as possible.

Germany

Although Matt said that I should greet my parents with a friendly smile, from the moment I got off the plane, my attitude was one of defiance. I now believed that my parents were a threat to my future happiness. I didn’t realize that their fears and concerns were entirely reasonable. All that mattered to me was what Matt and I wanted, and no one was going to stand in our way.

The weather was cold and dreary, which certainly didn’t help my mood. I walked through customs to find my parents waiting. Noting my attitude, their expressions were cool, their welcome stiff. No loving arms wrapped around me, no loving words greeted me. Only my father’s abrupt order, “Let’s go.”

The drive back to Wiesbaden seemed longer than forty-five minutes. I sat in the backseat in icy silence. No one mentioned my request to stay at Graceland.

“All in all, did you have a nice time?” Dad ventured.

“Yes,” I replied, looking out the window at the clusters of trees bare from the harsh winter.

“Did Matt like your present?” Mother asked hopefully.

“Yes,” I assured her. “He loved it.”

“Was it as cold in Boston as it gets here?” Dad asked, keeping the conversation light, trying to make me open up and talk.

“No, it’s colder here,” I replied sharply, referring to both the weather and my attitude. Our eyes met in the rearview mirror and surprisingly, Dad looked away rather than reacting to my cutting remark.

I knew I was pushing my luck with them, but I couldn’t suppress my feelings and pretend that everything was all right. I was so deeply in love that chitchat seemed pointless—as did everything except for Matt. I remembered how he had held me before we said goodbye, with such emotion and need that nothing could keep me away from him. How could I explain these adult feelings to my parents who, I thought, could never understand and would think me silly or just infatuated?

When we arrived home Dad said, “Well, you’ve got school tomorrow, so try to get as much rest as you can tonight.”

Mom added, “You should have dinner and get right to bed.”

Did they both honestly think that I could slip back into the routine of ordinary life?

I rebelled against going to school. I skipped classes, went to town, and downed a few beers with whoever I could get to join me. My attitude worsened along with my grades.

My parents were as confused as any caring parents would be, hoping the problem would eventually go away. But I didn’t make it easy for them. What had started out as a simple introduction to the world’s greatest rock-and-roll star had turned into a nightmare for them.

Matt began calling me almost immediately, and we’d talk for hours. My parents heard me whispering and giggling till three in the morning and wondered what on earth we could be talking about for so long. Nothing really—yet it seemed like everything.

I began to reveal to my mother that Matt and I loved each other and longed to be together. Finally one day I summoned the courage to tell her that Matt wanted me to finish school in Boston. Her response: an unqualified no. She felt it could wait until my father’s tour of duty was over. That would be the end of summer, she said, and there was no need for me to return to Matt sooner.

“But Mother,” I pleaded, “you don’t understand. He wants me there with him.”

“Why you?” she asked, her voice thick with emotion. “Why can’t he find someone his own age? You’re only sixteen. What is this man doing to our family?”

She buried her face in her hands and began crying.

I did feel sorry for her. We were always close, she was always there for me, but this time she just didn’t understand. I hated seeing her in pain, but nothing seemed more important to me than Matt. Not even my mother.

“He’s not anything like you imagine,” I said, “and he needs me, Mother. I won’t get hurt. Please talk to Dad.”

Slowly she raised her head and looked at me.

“y/nn, I’d never forgive myself if I let you go and if you came back to us with a broken heart. You’re so young! You have no idea what lies ahead of you. All you know is you’re in love. Do you know how difficult that is to fight?” She sighed. “I wouldn’t wish this on any parent.”

She brushed away her tears and after a moment said, “All right, I’ll talk to your father, but not just yet. It’s still too soon.”

I gave her a big hug and whispered, “Thank you, Mother. I know you can do it. I love you.”

Now I had to wait for my mother to intercede. I knew how much my father was against the idea. My parents still didn’t really know Matt’s intentions toward me. They only knew what I had told them. But they had also read in the newspapers that Matt was dating every one of the female costars in his movies, so naturally they were suspicious.

One day on the phone I told Matt, “If you want me to come back and go to school, you’re going to have to talk to my father yourself.”

“Put him on,” Matt replied. “I’m not MacArthur, but I can sure as hell try.”

Drawing on all of his charm, Matt assured my father that if I was permitted to move to Boston, I wouldn’t live with him at Graceland but with his dad, James, and his wife, Angela. Matt promised to enroll me in a good Catholic school—he’d choose it himself—and make sure I graduated. He said I’d always be chaperoned and that he’d care for me in every way. Declaring his intentions honorable, he swore that he loved and needed and respected me. In fact, he couldn’t live without me, he said, intimating that one day we’d marry.

This left my parents in a dilemma. If Matt were as sincere as he sounded, there was a chance that our relationship might work out. But if it didn’t work out, they ran the risk of my returning to them disillusioned and brokenhearted. If they refused to let me go, I might never forgive them and I would bitterly regret this unfulfilled love for the rest of my life. In that light, there was little they could do but say yes, and eventually they did.

In truth, I was as mystified as my parents were about why Matt wanted me to come live with him. I think he was attracted by the fact that I had a normal, stable childhood, and that I was very responsible, having helped my parents raise my younger brothers and sister. I was more mature at sixteen than I was at fourteen, when he’d met me, not only because I’d gone through the normal growing period, but also because I’d experienced the pain of living without him for those two years.

Most of all, he knew he could depend on me. I wasn’t interested in a career, in Hollywood, or in anything else that would draw my attention away from him. I also had all of the physical attributes that Matt liked, the fundamentals he could use in turning me into his ideal woman. In short, I had everything that Matt had been looking for in a woman: youth and innocence, total devotion, and no problems of my own. And I was hard to get.

I intended to do whatever I had to to hold him, because if he had ever sent me home, it would have meant not only that I’d been wrong in going to him, but that my parents had been wrong for having permitted it. I firmly resolved to make our relationship work, no matter what.

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd.

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