#has anyone read anything really good lately?

[xmasterofmunsonx]

Now That We Don’t Talk

Pairing: Steve Harrington x reader + Eddie Munson x reader (ex!Steve mostly)

Not for minors: includes drinking, language, mention of death of family members, etc. not for your eyes if you're under 18, please.

Word count: 13.5k (yikes !)

Author's note: One shot I've been sitting with this one since 1989 TV was released. I'm not 100% on this, but after reading and reading and editing even more, I think it's perfect and as best as I’m going to get. The pacing seems similar to the song, it gets quicker as it goes on, and has a nice abrupt ending. I hope you enjoy it, this one means a lot to me because I’ve put so much time and thought into it. I really thought the quick pacing at the end would ruin it, but like I said I wanted to mirror the quickness of the song. Totally open to some smaller one shots from this ~*universe*~ to elaborate more on any of the years or moments. I’d actually love that if anyone was interested in requesting anything 🩷

“You went to a party, I heard from everybody, you part the crowd like the Red Sea, don’t even get me started. Did you get anxious though, on the way home? I guess I'll never, ever know… now that we don't talk”

Summer 1987

You sighed, kicking your feet at the water in the pool. Your best friend Robin sat beside you, you both were sipping beers you’d practically been nursing all night at this house party you knew you’d have to drive your boyfriend home from. It was your last summer in Hawkins- hopefully forever.

Last spring you’d lost your mom in the “earthquake” of ‘86, and Robin’s family had taken you in until you figured out your plan. You were both reminiscing over the past year living together, and the previous years of the cursed things you and your group of friends had been through in Hawkins and the upside down- the losses, and the victories. Through all of it you’d been on and off with Steve after he’d dropped Nancy- you had her to thank for that one. You’d always had a thing for Steve, ever since middle school, but he only had eyes for Nancy and you knew you never stood a chance. It wasn’t until they broke up, you helped Steve’s wounded heart and then you two became a couple.

You fell in love quick- who wouldn’t? Steve was beautiful, and he was an absolute dream of a boyfriend. Minus the baggage of his stuck up family who hadn’t taken to you so kindly. You two had decided that moving together out of Hawkins would be the best thing for both of you, to leave the memories and nightmares behind, and start a new life somewhere.

You knew Steve was inside of the party, likely hanging out with his “friends,” drunk out of his mind like usual at these. For once he wasn’t hosting, this was a house equally as nice as his, but was some girl’s house from his senior year- but he was still, as always, the life of the party. You looked out across the yard to see that Nancy was rocking in a wooden swing in the back corner of the yard beside Jonathan and Eddie.

“I can’t believe he can still drink like this.” You finished off your beer, crushing the can beside you on the cold concrete surrounding the pool.

“Me neither. He’s doing okay?” Robin’s voice was laced with concern.

“Yeah. I mean, considering… he’s got his good days and bad days, but don’t we all?” Truth be told, Steve had kind of turned into a little bit of a mess. But everyone knew it, and you were all there for each other when you needed extra support.

“I just worry he’s gonna have a breakdown when he gets out of here and he actually has to work for things, aren’t you?” Robin spoke, and the thought had crossed your mind too, but you always seemed to push it out of your head.

“We’ve got everything lined up, thanks to good ole Harrington money.” You chuckled, annoyed but also a little thankful for the fact that he was still supported by his parents, equally just as shitty as they were absent from his life.

“Speaking of, have you laid eyes on him lately?” You checked the gold watch on your arm that had been a Christmas present last year, initials engraved into the inside of the dainty band around your wrist. You realized it had been quite some time since you’d seen him, but that wasn’t unlike him at a party this size. You would tend to be found outside away from everyone, and he would be inside seeking attention from everyone after a few beer.

“Been a minute, I’ll go check on him.” You stood to get up, but felt a hand pulling you up in assistance as your legs climbed out of the warm water of the pool.

“Better come with you, I gotta pee anyway.” Eddie suddenly appeared by your side. You two entered the party, tossing empty cans into the trash can in the crowded kitchen. “Hey, uh…” Eddie stepped in front of you. “Maybe let’s get some fresh air first?”

“Quit being weird, I need to make sure he’s not passed out somewhere already.” You tried to shove past him, but he wasn’t letting you by. “And fresh air? We were just outside.”

“Listen sweetheart, I don’t think-” his voice was deep, and quiet as he gently placed his hands on your shoulders.

“Eddie.” You stamped your foot like a child at your friend. “Move. I’ve seen him really fucking drunk before, we leave in a week, and I knew it was going to be bad tonight, but I can take care of him.” You peered around his frame, seeing what looked like a clear path parting in the sea of people.

It was all leading to your boyfriend Steve, with another girl sitting on his lap. The girl who just so happened to be hosting this party, a brown glass bottle on the coffee table pointed directly at where Steve sat on the couch.

Not only was this girl on top of him, but they were going at each other like feral animals in front of everyone at this party. You stood there, speechless as you watched. Her hands were pulling him in closer by his brown hair, the hair that you loved to absentmindedly play with, and his hands were splayed out across her back and you watched as they slid down to her ass, pulling her into him.

The chatter of the party, hoots and hollers by the shitty old jocks that peaked in high school had stopped, as did your heart as you felt it crumble in front of you. Everyone had realized you’d walked in the room except Steve himself.

“C’mon, I’ll get you home-” Eddie guided you backwards, but you shoved him forward.

“I don’t have a fucking home, Eddie!” You didn’t care who heard you. “HE was my home. How stupid was I to think that Steve fucking Harrington was my home, and we were supposed to start a new one together and leave this godforsaken, cursed, upside down town behind?! But that’s not happening now, is it, STEVE?!” You were screaming at this point. The girl straddling Steve was wiping lipstick and spit off of her face as she smirked at you, and Steve was horrified as he looked at you.

“Honey-” he started, using your favorite name for you that now made you feel more sour than sweet, as he pushed the girl off of his lap and made his way to you, you could see his dick was half hard in his too tight pants, “-it was just a game of spin the bottle, we-”

You kneed him in the balls and walked over to the girl who was still smirking as if making out with Steve was some accomplishment. “You can have him.” you told her as you ran out the front door of the gigantic house.

You had never felt so small. Steve always made you feel small, everything he had was big, but never did he make you feel this small. His house, new cars, big family events- when you only ever had your mom. And now, you didn’t even have her.

You heard the door slam behind you and you assumed it was Eddie, “Eddie, I’m fine to drive home.”

“I-I can’t leave Hawkins.” The voice clamored out.

You turned to see your coward of a boyfriend, well, ex-boyfriend now, “What did you say?”

“I can’t leave.” He ran a stupidly large hand through his stupidly gorgeous hair. “I was going to tell you tomorrow, my parents told me that if I go, I’m cut off forever. Like, from everything.” He gestured in front of him as if he was showing you some grand image of his future.

“And? You decided to make me look like a fucking fool at a party, days before we’re leaving? How long have you known?”

“Just a few weeks.” He said as if it were nothing, as if it meant nothing to him.

“A few weeks, Steve?! You didn’t think you could tell me sooner? All of my shit is packed into boxes- fuck, you’re the one who helped me! And now you made me look like a goddamn idiot in front of everyone, which makes me want to leave even more now but I can’t! Steve, we’ve been planning this for months.”

“I’m really fucking drunk, and she climbed in my lap, and-“ he was slurring his words as he approached you.

“Bullshit, my friend.” Eddie had appeared out of nowhere, yet again. He placed his hand on your shoulder to gently push his way in front of you to keep you out of Steve’s line of sight. “I saw it through the sliding glass doors. You held your hand out like some type of a goddamn gentleman and welcomed her onto your lap like it was a golden throne.” His hands wildly waved in the air as he spoke. “Steve, you’ll never know what it’s like to lose everything. You’re too fucking scared to leave mommy and daddy’s silver platter of life they’ve handed you.” It was true- Steve had everything handed to him, and you knew Eddie had lost so much in his life like you had.

“What, so you’re just gonna turn on me like that, man?” Steve walked up to Eddie like he was intimidating, but Eddie never waivered.

“What am I supposed to do, man?” He mocked. “Nancy, Jonathan, and I all saw it. As soon as I saw she was getting up from the pool to come inside I tried to slow down what was happening so at least she didn’t have to see it, just hear about it, but your dick brain just kept on making out with her.”

You interrupted the boys bickering. “We’re done, Steve. I don’t care how drunk you are, it’s not an excuse. You knew that was fucked up, and we are done. Between that in there, and you being too much of a pushover to your parents, I can’t do this anymore. You can pick your shit up from Robin’s front porch in the morning. I’m still leaving.” You stomped past him to your car, not giving a single fuck about how anyone was getting home that night who depended on you. You knew they’d understand. And for all you knew, Steve had another bed already lined up for tonight.

“Baby, baby. Please. Stay so we can talk and figure this out-” Steve was practically pleading with you.

“There’s no more figuring this out, Steve. We’re done.” You tossed the gold watch onto the dewy grass outside of the window of your car, and drove off.

“You grew your hair long, you got new icons, and from the outside, it looks like you're tryin' lives on. I miss the old ways, you didn't have to change, but I guess I don't have a say… now that we don't talk”

Fall 1988

It had been over a year since you’d been back in Hawkins, and had it not been for Robin’s birthday, you might have gone another year. Or more.

You pulled up to the familiar house that was your home for a short while, to be greeted by her parents with big hugs.

“How’s the big city?” They both asked as they grabbed your bags from you.

“It’s uh, Chicago is a lot different. But it’s good.” You smiled. You were doing great for yourself and had managed to swing a job at a venue/bar that more than enough covered bills, and you had been promoted to a manager position that you proved yourself perfect for once you started bringing in bands that you made commission off ticket sales. “Keeps me busy, that’s why it’s been so hard to get back home. But I couldn’t miss my best friend’s birthday, so here I am!”

“Your bed is already made, so stay as long as you want to. Or can, whichever. Robin’s upstairs getting ready.” You thanked them and skipped up the stairs to her room, the door cracked open and you could hear her on the phone mumbling and then saying goodbye as you chose to open the door.

“Wow, you look-” she turned around with a grin on her face as she saw you appear in her doorway.

“Tired? Old?” You laughed at yourself.

“Hot.” She looked you up and down, and you guess you’d changed your look some since you moved. You leaned more into the style you wanted to in the freedom of your new city, adorning your skin with a few of the tattoos you had always wanted, wearing darker and edgier clothes. There weren’t as many judgmental eyes like you’d been under in Hawkins, especially like when you were dating Steve.

“Thanks. You look the same, but more… you. But of course, not a day older.” You hugged your friend and kissed her on the cheek. “So what are the plans for tonight? Dinner, then…?”

“Dinner, then Hideout? Eddie’s playing a show tonight and it’s almost sold out.” She stated as she finished up her lipstick.

“What?!” Your jaw dropped, you’d kept in touch with almost everyone, including him, but he’d completely left that out of his phone calls updating you on his life. “Sold out? I mean, they’re good but-”

“He just got signed by a small label in uh, in Chicago. So everyone is really excited, it’s kind of a big deal show for them.”

“What?! Why wouldn’t he tell me that?!” You and Eddie had regular phone calls- they had become weekly, sometimes a few times a week just to catch up with each other.

“Don’t tell him I told you, he really wanted to tell you tonight but you know I can’t keep a secret, so I had to tell you before dinner. Also, Steve-is-coming. So the show is basically their congratulations on signing, and my birthday dinner is how we got you back here to celebrate both. Because we knew you wouldn’t come back for any other reason.” Robin couldn’t have talked any faster than she was, and once you realized everything she had said, your stomach sank.

“That’s fine, I kind of expected that he’d be there. I know you guys are still friends.” You’d gotten over Steve- sort of. The guys in Chicago were hotter- way hotter, and you were meeting plenty of distractions to take your mind off of how Steve had broken your heart. You just… hadn’t talked to him in over a year. You knew very little about what was going on with him except for the fact that he was following in his dad’s footsteps, and you didn’t really care to know much more than that either. “Just promise you’ll sit beside me at dinner.”

“Got you covered. That was Eddie on the phone, he’s gonna sit on one side of you, and I’ll sit on the other. Steve is bringing his girlfriend since he’s back home for the show, too.”

“Is it…”

“Yeah, it’s her.” Robin looked sad as she admitted the truth. “Don’t worry. You look way hotter than her, and you’re not a shit person. Steve’s here like once a month anyway just to see her, so-”

“What do you mean by he’s here once a month?”

“He moved to Indianapolis, his dad got him a job there like last fall? I think? It wasn’t long after you left. And he comes home all the time to visit her since she’s finishing out college here.”

“Oh, so he can move to a big city as long as he’s got a big time girlfriend back home? Nice logic.” You rolled your eyes as you two made your way to your car.

Enzo’s was the only nice restaurant in Hawkins, and it had survived the “earthquake,” so they were still in their original location in the center of town. The big booth had been reserved for your group of friends and you were actually buzzing with a little bit of excitement to see them.

“Hi!!” Nancy peeked around the booth, and you stood up to hug her and Jonathan, and they slid back into their spots.

“Damn, look at you!” Eddie held you at arms length with his Cheshire Cat grin on his face before he pulled you in for a hug, and you wrapped your arms tight around him.

“Look what the cat dragged in.” You bickered back at him. You lightly threw a punch to his bicep, “I heard we’re gonna be neighbors?”

“You told her?!” His big brown eyes looked to Robin, who shrugged, as you three slid into the round booth, leaving two spaces on the other side for Steve and his date.

“Can’t keep a secret! You know me!” Robin shouted over you at Eddie as you watched his face turn a light shade of pink.

You patted his leg resting by yours, “I’m really happy for you. If you need a place to play, I know someone that can hook you up, you know that?”

“I mean, I wasn’t gonna ask but-” You let out a chuckle at Eddie’s bashfulness that hadn’t changed one bit. You knew the guy in charge of booking bands would trust you to do anything at this point, so he would definitely get Eddie on the regular schedule to get more buzz going for him.

“I only have one other person to run that by, and I’ve got him wrapped around my finger. Don’t worry about it.” You felt his hand drop down to yours with a squeeze, at the same time Steve was walking up to the table. You took in his looks- his hair had grown longer, his choice of dress that had once relaxed was cleaned up more than ever. “Where’s your date? Or did you think this was a business meeting?”

Everyone held in chuckles as you roasted Steve’s attire and he looked at you with no semblance of a laugh.

“Robin said Enzo’s, so I dressed nice!” He defended himself as he sat down.

“Oh that’s right, daddy still buys your wardrobe too, so you probably didn’t have anything else to wear.”

“Hey, hey.” Eddie leaned in to whisper in your ear, hand still atop of yours, “Let up on him. This is Robin’s birthday. Now, at my show, you can tear him to shreds.” He winked at you as he leaned back into his seat, not letting his grip go.

Dinner went as expected, actually better, you were all laughing and joking like you hadn’t been absent the entire last year. You avoided Steve’s gaze all night, focusing on anyone else who was talking, and you looked at your food when he spoke up.

A small cake was brought out for Robin, and all of you sang happy birthday with smiles on your faces as Eddie put on a complete show for everyone in the restaurant, for which he received applause for. He was never one to care about what anyone thought of him, but it still surprised you he had the confidence to be so loud in such a nice setting.

“Separate or together?” The waitress came around after everyone had finished their meals and cake.

Steve reached for his wallet, “I’ve got everyone.”

“No, I’ll get mine.” You reached for your wallet, but a familiar hand stopped you.

“I’ll get the two of us, and he can get everyone else.” Eddie spoke, handing the waitress cash. The table was awkwardly silent.

“Smoke?” You asked him, and he gladly nodded his head, and you forced Robin to get up, so you two could go outside for a moment. “So what was that check thing about?” You held your cigarette to your lips, and Eddie leaned in with his zippo to light yours for you before he lit his.

“Just wanted to remind him what an ass he can be sometimes. You smoke now, big city?”

“Comes with the territory, I guess.” You rolled your eyes and laughed as you both smoked half of your cigarettes on the quiet sidewalk. You stared down at some of the repaved concrete and traced the cracks where the old met the new. “When are you and the guys moving?”

“Well, I was going to ask you. So Robin must have left out that the label kinda… only signed me. Like just me, and they’re setting me up with a band. So I’ve gotta be there as soon as possible to sit in on auditions and-” he was absentmindedly scratching his head as he was talking 90 miles a minute.

“What? Only you? What about the rest of the guys?”

“They’re actually pretty cool with it. They don’t want to move or anything, they want to stay here. I think they’re too afraid to leave their families after everything, and-”

“What about Wayne?” Your heart was a little broken thinking about him leaving Wayne behind.

“Couldn’t be more thrilled for me. He’s still livin’ off that Hawkins Lab hush money, so he’s part time and can come see me whenever he wants.” He took a long drag, before he looked away, then back at you. “Anyways, I was going to ask, I know it’s last minute but can I crash at your place for a tiny little while?” He now scratched at the stubble on his chin and raised his eyebrows in question.

“Eddie, I only have a studio apartment. It’s like, right above the bar.” You thought of how cramped it might be with the two of you living there. You’d come to love your small studio, and you were never interested in ever really sharing your space.

“I know, you’ve told me. I won’t get in your way, I’ll hardly be home when you are. And as soon as I’m there for a few weeks and figure out where I want to stay, I’ll get a lease. I just need some time to look around for somewhere reasonable. I promise in- in maybe less than a month? They gave me a big enough sign on I can pay for your whole month of rent, too. I’m just-“ he stuttered, “I’m actually pretty nervous about going somewhere I don’t know anyone, and I think having a little piece of home with me would be good to keep me centered.” He dropped and kicked out his cigarette at his humble confession, and raised his hands in surrender. “But I totally get it if you don’t want me in your hair everyday, I’ll just get a hotel and-”

You thought about it for a few moments, and you realized it may not be that bad to have Eddie around. You two got along fine, and you talked about mostly everything already so you could cut out the weekly phone calls if he was already there. “You can stay. As long as you need. I’ve got a pull out couch with a mattress, so you’re in luck. I don’t need help with rent, but you gotta keep the place clean, and no random people coming home. I don’t let any of my dates or the regulars at the bar know I live up there because things can get weird, and I like laying low. So if you wanna get with anyone, you gotta do it somewhere else.”

“Oh yeah, because I’m totally swimming in pussy right now.” He scoffed as you two walked back inside, and you were thankful he led the way in because your cheeks were tinted pink at his sarcastic comment. By now, everyone was standing up from the table to head over to the venue for Eddie’s show. You all split up into your separate cars.

“So, did he ask you about moving in?” Robin couldn’t even wait for the car door to shut before she started questioning you.

“Jesus, do you know everything?” You started your car and drove towards the Hideout.

“Yes. I do.” Robin said, excitedly.

“Yes, he did. I told him he can stay there as long as he needs to. Just no random girls or parties or anything.” You left out the comment he’d made about girls,maybe wanting to save it for another day.

“I told him you’d say yes.” She looked out the window, “so… Steve?” You looked at her and shrugged, “what do you think?”

“He looks different. Like he’s just turning into his dad already. Everything he hated, everything he wanted to get away from with me. He’s turning into it.”

“Yeah, he’s uh, a piece of work. Have you thought about talking to him?”

“I have no interest in that. I don’t need to talk to him.” You shut down the conversation as you turned your radio up, driving the back roads to the sketchy bar you hadn’t been to in what felt like years.

-

“Shots on me!” Steve slammed down another round of tequila shots on the sticky high top bar table you all had sat at to have a good view of the stage. You grabbed one and toasted as Steve remarked smartly, “Oh, so you’ll take alcohol from me, but not dinner? I see how it is.” Your crew were all feeling a bit loose already, the drinks at the Hideout were cheap and you were all buying rounds back to back. You rolled your eyes and shot him the bird as the tequila burned down your throat.

Eddie’s band started playing moments later, and the whole bar crowd turned their attention to the stage. He introduced themselves, announced his new plans, and everyone cheered for him. You were beaming at your friend, the town “freak” who was finally getting his shot at what he wanted in life, and people were seeing him for who he was and not what he was known for that was never true.

“Grabbing another one, you good?” You asked Robin over the loud music as you nudged her shoulder. She shook her head and you got up, pushing your way through the crowd to the bar. You felt a hand on your lower back as you waited for the only bartender to come over to you and jumped, immediately pushing the hand away.

“Couldn’t let you go alone.” Steve was standing entirely too close to you for comfort.

“I’m a big girl, Steve. I’m just fine.” You told your drink order to the bartender after Steve did, leaving you two with a few moments of silence.

“You look good. Like, really good.” You watched as he ran his hands through his hair while he obviously checked you out, clearly nervous to be seeing you again. You caught him staring at the tattoos peeking through your sheer black top.

“Thanks? I guess now that I don’t have to impress anyone’s parents I get to dress how I want.” You were feeling a little extra sarcastic and snippy tonight, but you were a few drinks in and didn’t care.

“Can you cut the shit like that?” He immediately came back at you with sassiness.

“No, Steve. It’s been a year, I had to move on and you broke my fucking heart and I had to fix it myself. You fucked this up on your own.”

“Can I fix it?” He reached for your hand, but you pulled it back.

“No, you can’t. I don’t need you to make things better.”

“Listen, I know I fucked up. Everything here reminds me about it. I regret it all the time- but just think about all the bullshit we’d been through. I wasn’t in a good place.”

“Think about all the bullshit we went through? Steve, I was there too, and on top of it all, I lost my mom. All the more reason for you to not cheat on me- you do realize that was wrong to do to me after everything we’d just had happen to us? I wasn’t okay either, I’m still not sometimes, but I know cheating on my boyfriend wasn’t going to be the proper way to deal with things.”

“I should’ve told you sooner, I shouldn’t have done anything that I did. But you know how my parents are, honey.” He pleaded with his big, soft eyes as the word made bile rise in your throat.

“You have absolutely no right to ‘honey’ me, Steve.” You scoffed. You suddenly remembered his date had never shown up. “Your girl stand you up?”

“No, she can’t stand metal so she’s going to come near the end of the set so she can hang out. It would be nice if you could be cordial.” Steve scratched at his bicep- he’d taken off his nicer shirt and jacket, and was now just in his solid undershirt and his well fitting pants to not stand out as much here.

“Cordial, Steve!? I have to be cordial to the girl you were fucking behind my back, the girl who attempted to ruin my plans to get out of this town? Because guess what? I found out you were a bullshitter about that too. I don’t know how you can stay here or visit so much Steve. I’m so scared something is going to turn to red and dust falling from the sky before my eyes and I’ve not even been here a full day.” You were immediately mad at yourself for confessing something so big to Steve. “I’m not going to be mean, but I’m not trying to make a new friend.”

“I’m sorry.” He solemnly said as he took a sip from his fresh drink. “I’m scared of those things too, I still see it if I close my eyes for too long sometimes.”

“Yeah? Well, I also still see the smug look on her face when I walked into the house that night.” You grabbed your drink and made your way back to the table, where Robin had been watching the interaction the whole time. Steve quietly joined the table a few moments later looking like a hurt puppy, and then he stepped away, leaving his drink.

“You good?” Your friend nudged you in the side.

“Not really, no. But I got some things off my chest, so at least I can say I talked to him.” You drank the rest of your drink down in a few sips, and looked to the stage to distract yourself. “I did say I’d be… not mean once she gets here. But I can’t make any promises.” You started replaying memories of the last time you saw Steve in your head, and you could feel the resentment surfacing again- you remembered the shame you felt when the whole party was looking at you yelling at him, the proud look on the girl's face when she realized that you’d seen the two of them.

Eddie was looking at you with concern. He subtly motioned for you to come over to him. The stage at the Hideout was barely considered a stage, so it didn’t take much for you to get to him, and since he was in between songs, he crouched down while the rest of the guys checked their instruments.

“We got two more songs, wanna go sit in the back? There’s a couch, and more tequila, and no Steve.” You nodded at him, holding back some tears of frustration. “It’s okay, I’ll be there in a bit.” You nodded as he patted your head, ruffling your hair up a little as he stood tall to continue onto the next song.

You sat on the questionable couch in the back room of the Hideout while the muffled music continued on- you’d been back here a few times before but never by yourself, and “security” knew who you were so you were immediately let back. It felt weird, and you felt bad for leaving your friends but you really weren’t in the mood to talk about the past, or try to reconcile it especially since Steve was still with the girl he cheated on you with. Your thoughts were interrupted by Eddie bursting through the door, and then he quickly shut it.

“Hey.” He was out of breath, almost panting as if he’d run back to get to you as quickly as he could but you knew it was from the performance he was giving on stage. “You alright?”

You wiped a tear that was trying to fall as he walked in. “Yeah, I’m fine. He tried talking to me at the bar and I’m just… I’m not interested in trying to keep any type of friendship going between the two of us.” You watched as Eddie wiped the sweat off his face with the bottom of his shirt, revealing his abdomen that was littered with scars from ‘86. Your stomach sank at the memories. “You would think after everything he’s been through- we’ve been through, he would’ve changed his ways but I guess he hasn’t.”

“Fuck him. I mean- obviously don’t… you already did, but, forget about him.” He poured two shots and handed one to you, you probably shouldn’t take it but the night wasn’t ending anytime soon- they were kicking everyone out of the bar and keeping it open later for the band “and friends”, so you knew you’d be here a while tonight. The tequila burned as it went down, and you wiped your mouth on your am as you handed Eddie the shot glass back.

“It’s hard to forget about him when you guys are still friends with him and I have to hear about him. I always tune it out. I didn’t ever want anyone to take sides. I was an idiot tonight and brought up how I hate being back here, and being so afraid of something else happening from the upside down, and I just feel so dumb for letting him in.”

“You heard me that night, he’s too much of a pussy to leave the comfort of his parents pocket. And I stay away from him as much as I can, I don’t need a charge under my belt after getting my name cleared.”

“Ugh, why does he have to be so fucking pretty though?” Your drunk thoughts were leaving your mouth before you realized it. You thought about his golden blonde highlights, his warm eyes, and how his clothes always fit him just right.

“Because he’s Steve Harrington and that’s who he is.” Eddie plopped down beside you. “You’re really fucking pretty too, though.”

You rolled your eyes and lightly hit Eddie’s arm again, “Stop it. I already said you can crash at my place, you don’t have to get all sweet on me.”

“No, I mean it.” Eddie was looking at you as you looked to your side at him. “You’ve always been pretty, and I’ll be sweet on you if I wanna be.”

“Munson, you don’t have to keep flattering me to make me feel better.” He was one of your close friends too, but he’d been there for you when Steve hadn’t been. He called to check on you all of the time, sometimes more than Robin.

“I’m not just trying to flatter you, I mean it. You’re stunning and you look beautiful tonight.” His hand rested atop yours and gave it a light squeeze, making butterflies appear in your belly.

You mentally told yourself you couldn’t do this again- start crushing on a close friend, and potentially lose them. Especially with him about to be signed to a label and getting better known. Your brain was already running a thousand miles a minute with the way he was looking at you.

“You think so?” You asked with a smirk, and you saw a glimmer in his eye. “Well, you certainly have aged well in the time I’ve been gone too, Mr. Rockstar.”

“Oh yeah?” His voice got deeper as he scooted closer to you and let out a small chuckle. “In one year?”

“I’m too drunk to answer that right now.” You laughed and rolled your eyes.

“Oh no, I love drunk you. I get all the juicy gossip from you after a few drinks. You think I’m not too bad now, eh?”

“You heard me.” You said, facing him and crossing your arms.

“Yeah, I did. And I kinda wanna hear it again.” Was this really happening? In the back room of the Hideout? You’d been a little flirty on the phone with him sometimes, but it was hard to read into what he really meant without seeing him, and you never knew with Eddie because he was always a flirt with everyone.

“I said you weren’t bad, Munson.” You felt your face warming up. “Always thought you were cute, but I was too wrapped up in Steve-”

“‘S just Eddie, sweetheart.” He looked cocky as he interrupted you and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear- a classic, cheesy move that made you blush. He looked… good. His curls were wild and untamed, but you could tell he had started to take better care of them recently because they were more defined. His jaw was sharper, his face was capable of growing some more facial hair. His features were showing a little more- the wrinkles by his eyes, the subtle dimples, more freckles. How were you suddenly this close to him?

“Is this a bad idea?” You asked out loud to him.

“I don’t think so.” He stroked your cheek with his thumb and shook his head. “At least not for tonight, let’s have a little fun, yeah?”

You nodded, and leaned in and kissed him. You never made the first move, so you didn’t know how much to put into the first kiss. You felt hesitant, but once you were pulled in more by Eddie’s grip on either side of your face, all hesitancy fell to the wayside. You felt dizzy from the passion that he kissed you with. Both of his hands were practically squeezing your face, and you took the queue to straddle his lap, and he let out a sigh as you rested your weight on his thighs.

“Been wantin’ to kiss you for years now, Jesus Christ.” He chuckled against your lips. “Harrington was so fucking stupid to lose you.” He leaned in again, and you allowed him to take over.

“Alright people let’s go- oh! Oh! It’s happening!” Robin opened the door, making you pull back from Eddie quickly.

“Shut up, Buckley.” Eddie turned to shoo her away, and you blushed at your seat upon Eddie’s lap. “We were just talking.”

“You look awfully close to me. Listen, Steve’s girl is out there now, and I’d rather watch paint dry than sit out there and talk to them. Come out and have some fun, please!” She whined as the two of you stood up.

“Give us a minute, Robin.” You pushed her out of the door and closed it. As soon as you turned around, Eddie was cornering you against the door. “What?” You blushed.

“Didn’t get to finish that kiss.” He grasped you by the side of the neck and pulled you into his lips, hungrier, and needier than the first two times. You were breathing heavily into the heated kiss as your hands roamed his body, he was sweaty but you didn’t care- you were too, from the crowded room earlier. “We can talk later, just wanted to test the waters first.” He smirked as he pecked your lips and reached for the door handle behind you.

As you exited the tiny room, Eddie’s hand fell to your side, where he laced his pinky finger with yours and guided you through the shrinking crowd to the bar.

“Water?” He asked you, pulling your hand up to the bar and lacing his fingers with yours, proudly.

“Yeah, for now.” You said, a sheepish smile on your face. You felt a pair of eyes on you from the corner of the bar where Steve sat with his girlfriend, and you ignored them and focused on the water that the bartender had given you.

“Just ignore him. They’ll leave soon anyway, she doesn’t feel safe here or some bullshit like that. I gotta go pack up my stuff really quick, you good to stay here?” He had moved his hand to your lower back, and you nodded. “M’kay. I’m out back if you need me.” He placed a quick kiss on your cheek, then jogged away.

“Details, please.” Robin quickly replaced Eddie, turning her body completely to you, giving Steve her back.

“What?”

“Oh, come on! You two were kissing!” She was yelling unnecessarily, used to the loudness of the bar before people had emptied out, and you leaned forward to put your hands over her mouth. “And that, before he just left?!”

“SHHHHHH!! So what? I’m a little drunk, and he looks reeaaally good tonight.” You two giggled, “He’s a really good kisser.”

“Knew he had it in him. He’s been talking about seeing you again for weeks. MONTHS! I figured he would’ve tried kissing you at dinner when you two walked out, but-”

“Robin, how can you not tell me that he had a crush on me?!” You wanted to squeeze your best friend.

“How could you be so blind?! He told me it started in high school. Then you started dating Steve, and he got mixed up into our group and he felt bad about his crush because you were with Steve, so he never thought he’d have a chance but now everything is just… falling into place. Meant to be.” Robin was out of breath again because she was talking so quickly and you just laughed at her spilling the details out so quickly- it reminded you of how Eddie would talk when he got really excited about things too.

“You really thought he had no feelings for you? Why do you think that metal head idiot called you almost every day for the last year? To make sure you were okay? No, he likes you. He really, really likes you.” Your friend told you as you turned around to see Eddie walking out the back door of the bar, catching a glimpse of you before he walked outside, carrying his equipment.

-

Somehow you found yourselves at a house party, because of course, you always did. And it was at Steve’s girlfriends house, because of course it was. God only knows how late it was now, the Hideout had kicked you out earlier. Eddie had driven your car to the house- he’d had the least amount to drink, and you and Robin had sat in the backseat and giggled the whole way. You completely missed the way he was watching and admiring you in the rear view mirror for the 15 minute drive back to town.

“I can’t believe that I thought this was what I wanted.” You drank the mystery juice out of the red cup and leaned against the kitchen counter, looking at all of the same people you remembered from school. You noticed how more people were high fiving Eddie, or saying hey to him instead of just calling him “freak”, or using him to buy weed while you two stood together.

“It’s comfortable, it’s stable. You haven’t had much stability your whole life, so I can understand the appeal.” Eddie took a puff from his joint and you politely declined, afraid to mix the two tonight since you were already so deep into drinking alcohol.

“I know but still. This house is fucking gorgeous, you know? They never have to worry about anything like bills, or-”

“But look at how unhappy they are.” Eddie said, pointing out the lack of smiles on some of the party goers.

“You’re just saying that because you’re high and happy right now.”

“No, I’m not. I’m saying that because it’s the truth. They’ve got all the money in the world but they’re still so fucking miserable with themselves they’ve got to keep throwing parties to relive the old days and feel like they’re peaking again.” Eddie rambled on for some more time as you caught yourself staring at Steve. The way his mouth turned up when he smiled- why was it so charming still? “Helloooooo?” Eddie bumped your hip beside you, and you stopped staring immediately.

“Sorry. Zoned out for a bit. Can you hold my drink while I go to the bathroom?” You handed him your cup and he took it, but you giggled as he took a sip and almost gagged on it at the sour, bitter taste.

You were doing the thing in the bathroom where you stared at yourself and realized how drunk you really were. Fuck. You fixed your hair, and washed your hands, and as soon as you opened the door, there was another force behind it that opened it and they let themselves into the bathroom.

Of fucking course, it was Steve Harrington. And you were entirely too drunk for this.

“Like what you see? Saw you staring.” You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help but blush. He placed his hands on your waist gently and waited for a reaction from you. When you gave him none, he took a step closer. “Only got a few minutes, what do you say? I saw the way Munson was all over you. Probably tried to get his paws on you backstage, didn’t he?” Steve started kissing your neck and you knew you should’ve pushed him off, but fuck did his mouth feel good, and familiar.

“Yeah, and he did.” You fought a moan, but lost once he reached the spot on your neck that drove you wild. It was a secret spot, Steve had found it one afternoon while you guys were lazily making out in his bed, under the sheets, and he used it all the time.

“Bet he didn’t make you feel this good, did he?”

“Steve, you’ve got a girl-”

“She’s upstairs puking right now. I missed you.” He said as he continued attacking your neck. You draped your arms around his neck and he refocused his attention to you. “Please, can I kiss you?”

You should’ve said no, you should’ve walked out before you leaned in and answered his question without saying a single word. The kiss was hot and heavy, Steve’s lips felt different than Eddie’s- they were smoother, and his kiss was softer. You weren’t sure you liked it anymore, but you kept on. His hands roamed your body, and he moaned as he felt you up, your body feeling different than the last time he’d seen you. Your fingers went to his thick, chocolate brown hair and you ran your nails through his scalp, earning a moan from him.

“Fuck I missed you.” He looked at you, and even though he was also drunk, you could tell he meant it.

“Yeah.” You panted, and dodged his next kiss. “I-I can’t do this, Steve. You completely crushed me. I just got over you, I can’t give this another try. I can’t believe I let myself kiss you.” You still had your arms around him, and your fingers were toying with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“C’mon, honey. You know me better than anyone. I can’t tell her any of this shit I’ve been through, she’ll think I’m fucking crazy.”

“You should have thought about that before you kissed her.” You pecked him on the cheek and left the bathroom, fixing yourself as best as you could as you made your way back to the kitchen. Eddie was making a small deal in there, and his eyes immediately caught yours. You hesitated for him to finish, and he tilted his head to go outside, and you pushed through the familiar sliding glass doors to wait on him.

“Feel good after that?” He asked, his hands tucking into his jacket pockets. “Couldn’t have made that anymore obvious, honey.” The nickname was laced with venom.

“Eddie, I- I really did have to pee, then he came in there to talk and I-”

“The door get jammed? You couldn’t unlock it? Had to make out with king Steve in the bathroom for the door to unlock?” He coughed out a laugh. “I can't believe I thought you might’ve actually been over him.”

“I wish it were you.”

“You know, I know I jumped into the gang pretty late so I missed the beginning history of you two, but-”

You lunged forward at Eddie, shutting him up for once. “Shut up, we made out and all I thought about was how I wish it was you I was kissing, not him.”

“You mean it?” He asked you, his eyebrows raised.

“Yes, Munson.” You rolled your eyes at him.

“Can Robin get a ride home without you?”

“Probably, why?” You asked as the taller, curly haired boy made himself impossibly closer to you- you could still smell the show on him, the sweat, the spilled alcohol, the cigarettes, and you wanted it.

“Because you’re mine tonight, if nothing else. I wanna take you back to my place. Go find her, I’ll be waiting in your car.”

“O-okay.” You nervously answered him and walked back into the house. “Robin!” You pulled her away from a few people.

“Word travels fast. You better get out of here soon, because she already heard about you and Steve.”

“Perfect. Can you get home?”

“Yeah, I can, where are you going?”

“Great, I’ll see you tomorrow.” You jogged out of the house, and towards your car where Eddie was sitting with it already cranked up and running. “She can find a way home, she said.”

“Say less, my dear.” Eddie put his hand on the back of your headrest as he looked back to reverse out of the parking spot in front of the house, then he sped off to the direction of his and Wayne’s shared house. You knew Wayne worked nights still from all of your late night conversations with Eddie.

Your stomach turned thinking about what was going on right now, what was about to happen. And he must’ve known, or been able to read your mind.

“We don’t have to do anything but sleep- I’ll even sleep on the couch. I just wanted you out and away from him. I can’t see you getting hurt by him again.” His hand rested on your knee, and his thumb rubbed gentle circles as he drove.

“But you said-”

“I know what I said, but I’m high and horny as hell, but I can keep my dick in my pants unlike someone else we know. And you look too fucking good tonight, you told me you got some tattoos but you didn’t tell me you had this many? S’driving me wild.”

You blushed as you watched Eddie run a hand through his hair, something he did when he was nervous. “You left out that you were even more handsome than ever, too.” You commented back, but it wasn’t even the top of surface of what you could say about Eddie and how he’d changed over the last year. You got to his house, the porch light was the only one on, and he hurried with you to the front door since the fall air was creeping in and you weren’t appropriately dressed for it.

“What about your van?” You asked as you walked in, and kicked off your black boots.

“I’ll get it in the morning, they’re used to me leaving it overnight sometimes.”

“Thought you weren’t drowning in pussy, Munson?” You joked as you approached him, your arms reaching up and wrapping around his neck, as his pulled you in by your waist.

“I’m not, but I could be if you’d let me. And I told you, quit with the last name shit. I like hearing my name out of those pretty lips.” Alright, he was smooth. You’d give him that. You both leaned in and continued making out, feeling each others bodies over clothes, shedding jackets on the floor, before he broke the kiss and guided you back to his room. “I swear I wasn’t expecting any guests so just give me a few and I’ll clean up.”

“Honestly it’s fine, I think I’m a little bit too drunk for anything tonight anyway, but don’t think I’m not interested-”

“Hey, I told you that’s fine.” He kissed the top of your head. “I am gonna have to shower and take care of some things before I go to bed but I’ll grab you a shirt so you don’t have to sleep in this getup tonight.” He roamed around his room and gathered a soft Iron Maiden shirt for you, and a pair of plaid boxers from a drawer. “Can’t promise the shirt is clean but I haven’t sweat in it, but it’s the softest one I have.” He tossed them at you before he left to shower, and you changed into them and tucked yourself into his bed.

“Hey.” You felt a gentle nudge on your shoulder, waking you up. My god, the sight that greeted you. Eddie was sitting on the side of his bed, his hair towel dried, he was shirtless, in a pair of boxers, and you could see more tattoos on his torso mixed in with all of his scars. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” He chuckled. “Want me to sleep out there? It’s up to you.”

“Nu uh.” You peeled back the comforter and sheets for him and he climbed in, laying down and facing you.

“I need a tattoo tour tomorrow.” He said through a grin. “Show me yours if you show me mine?”

You rolled your eyes, “Fine.”

Eddie tucked hair out of your face and looked at you. “Meant it when I said you were beautiful.”

“I’m sorry I kissed Steve tonight.” You felt terrible about it, honestly.

“It’s fine. I almost expected it. The dude gave you no closure. But I can say it feels good to know you wished it were me you were kissing and not him.”

“I don't have to pretend I like acid rock, or that I'd like to be on a mega yacht with important men who think important thoughts. Guess maybe I am better off now that we don't talk. And the only way back to my dignity was to turn into a shrouded mystery, just like I had been when you were chasing me, guess this is how it has to be now that we don't talk.”

Chicago->Hawkins, 1989

“Hey, babe. I made coffee. You gotta get up, the studio needs me in an hour, then we gotta leave.” You groaned as you were being woken up, you had worked the bar until 3 am the night before and stayed until almost 4 cleaning up the huge mess. Eddie had left the bar around midnight because he had some recording to do today before you left for Hawkins- Dustin and his friends were all graduating this weekend and you couldn’t miss it.

“But it’s only 10, please let me sleep some more.” You rolled over in your cozy bed, letting the comforter swallow you now that no one else was in it.

Eddie’s month-long stay ended up never ending. You had a breakdown at the thought of him leaving and not being in your apartment every day. He’d slept on the couch for a few weeks, and then one night you told him how you really felt.

The two of you’s relationship had intensified quickly, and progressed to dating after a month of being around each other. It was your first relationship that felt right, that fell into place so easily without any drama, and you were happy.

“You know good and well if I leave you asleep you’re not going to get up. I’m only going to be there for an hour, I just have to sign off on a few things. You still have to finish packing too.” He kissed your forehead as he handed you the warm cup of coffee.

“Do we have to go?” You pouted over your first sip. You wanted to see your friend’s graduation, but you dreaded the inevitable. And Eddie had promised to play a show back at home with the guys, so you’d be spending a few nights there.

“Yes. We do. I mean, you can stay, but you’ll get awfully lonely here, dontcha think?” He leaned in and winked, “remember what happened last time I said I was going to leave?”

“I guess so.” You groaned as you sipped the coffee. “What if I see him?”

“What if? Baby, you don’t need to worry about it.” He placed his hand on your thigh, which was covered by your comforter. “It’s been so long ago, and he’s just there to see the kids graduate too. We’ve avoided him any other time we’ve gone back to see them, haven’t we? He’s not like a monster that’s gonna get you or anything.”

“No, but he’s Steve fucking Harrington and he knows how to ruin a good time.”

Eddie sighed in defeat. He knew how anxious seeing your ex made you, there was nothing you or him could do about it. He changed the way your friend group was forever after he hurt you.

“You get to see Robin though, and we get to stay at her new place!” He tried to cheer you up. “Babe, I really gotta go. Finish packing, take a shower, and I’ll be home before you know it.” He pecked your lips before he left you lying in bed with your coffee and a tummy full of anxiety.

-

“Presenting the class of 1989!” Principal Higgins announced over the loudspeaker in the gymnasium. You both stood up to applaud the class as you watched them throw their hats in the air- something you remember doing, and you felt Eddie’s arm wrap around you as he pulled you in for a hug.

“You know, I would've shot Huggins the bird if I wouldn’t have been in the hospital.” Eddie leaned in to make you laugh.

“I know. You’ve told me, multiple times. At least you got your diploma.”

“Yeah, because he was sick of me and my satanic worship cult.” You rolled your eyes and chuckled as the two of you exited the gym, waiting for your friends to meet up with you.

Robin and Nancy found you both quickly, giving you gigantic hugs, and asking you questions about how you were doing. A few minutes later, the graduates had made their way over and you watched as Eddie’s smile reached his eyes and he almost squeezed the life out of Dustin. You could tell how proud he was of him, even though he was one of the smartest kids you both had ever known.

You gave him a hug next, “Proud of you, kid.”

“I’m not a kid! I’m an adult now, you know that? I’m going to college soon!”

“Still just little dusty buns to us.” You said and you were pulled into Eddie’s side quickly, almost knocking you off balance. You were used to his clinginess by now, so it didn’t make you think twice about it until you saw Steve approaching the group. Everyone else greeted him like normal, but Eddie just kept you by his side as Steve said a quick hi to both of you.

You knew he had to know or have heard about you two dating. Eddie was on the phone with Dustin when he could, and you were always in touch with Robin and Nancy.

“So, we're ready to party, or what?” Steve clapped his hands together to interrupt the conversation.

“Let’s go!” Lucas shouted and you all split up into your groups. You heard your name being called, and you looked back. Steve was standing there and waved you over. Your heart tugged a little at the look on his face- he almost looked somber.

“You can go talk to him if you want, I’m not stopping you.” Eddie said, “We’ve gotta at least make an appearance at the party at his house. He might have something to say.”

“Fine, but watch if I need you to come rescue me.” Eddie pulled you in for a quick kiss as if he were making sure Steve knew that you were his, and you walked over to Steve with blushed cheeks, and butterflies in your stomach.

“Hey, I just wanted to talk.”

“Figured so, that’s why I came over here.” God, you sounded like a fucking idiot. How could Steve still look so good? You quickly checked him out to see he had dressed in pants that fit him perfectly, a short sleeve polo that was fit to his biceps just right, and his hair looked better than ever since he’d still kept some length on it.

“Are we, are we good?” He was stuttering, something you knew he only did when he was nervous.

“I mean, we’re fine? I guess. I’m over it, I’ve moved on.”

“Clearly.” You could tell the word came out of his mouth faster than he could think about what he was saying, “Are you happy?”

“Y-yeah, I am. He makes me really happy. I’m glad to be out of here, away from all of the past bullshit that happened here. And I’m glad to be away from here, with him specifically. I basically run the bar now, probably going to buy in in the next year or so depending on where Eddie goes with the band, if nothing else it could be some passive income while we’re on the road. What about you?” You kicked at some grass while you waited for his reply.

“Things are good. We just bought a house here, wedding is next year.” That was something everyone had left out of telling you. “Just proposed a few days ago, but the house had been in the works for a little while.”

“Oh wow, congratulations. I’m sure your parents are thrilled.” He looked at you funny, “I mean it this time. I’m not being a sarcastic asshole.” You both laughed a little.

“You look really good. I mean, not trying to be weird but you look like yourself. Like you’ve figured yourself out.”

“Feels like I have, finally. I think getting out of here was the best thing I could’ve done for myself. It feels weird being back here, you know? I wonder how many people really know everything that actually happened. Does she know?” You weren’t sure why you were bringing this up now, but you were curious.

“Hell no, do you know how insane that would sound?”

“I do know, I lived it too.” You said wistfully. You looked back to see Eddie looking at you, and you gave him a small wave of recognition. “I should get back, it was good to catch up.”

“Will I see you both at the house? Still drink tequila?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, still tequila. We’ll be there.” You both exchanged a small hug before you walked back to Eddie, your smile growing bigger as you reached your boyfriend, realizing you’d made some positive progress in your relationship with Steve.

“What was all that about?” Eddie asked as you two walked back to his van. “Took long enough.”

“He was just making sure we were good, and asked if I was happy, apparently he’s engaged and they bought a house together. He just proposed a few days ago.” You said as you hopped into Eddie’s car.

“Weird.” You noticed Eddie’s grip on the steering wheel was tight and you picked at your thumbs out of nerves. You reached up to turn up the radio volume, but he stopped you. He never did that.

“What?” You looked over at him, he was rubbing his face with the hand that wasn’t on the steering wheel.

“I might just drop you off and head over to Wayne’s. I’m really not in the mood for a party tonight.” He said, looking straight ahead.

“Eddie, what? I’m not going without you, I’ll just go see Wayne too. You’re the one who said we needed to make an appearance. It’s for the kids, it’s their graduation.”

“Nah, you seem like you want to go catch up more with your old pal Steve.” Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at your boyfriend.

“Eddie, what are you talking about?”

“You couldn’t take your fucking eyes off of him. You couldn’t even hide that you were staring at him, basically drooling over how good he looked.” Silence filled the car. “See, you’re not even going to deny it, are you? You played the whole, I don’t wanna come back here card for all the wrong reasons. You didn’t wanna see Steve because you still have something for him, don’t you?”

“No, I don’t! I’m sorry if that’s what you thought, but-”

“Oh come on, anyone with two working eyes can see the way you were practically undressing him.”

“Eddie, I was not. It was a conversation that we needed to have, it was awkward, but at least now we’re on speaking terms. Beyond that, there’s nothing there with Steve. Yes, he’s still attractive- you’ve even said that yourself but if you pulled over on the side of the road right this second I’d fuck you in the backseat, okay? There is nothing about Steve Harrington that I want anymore. I don’t want that lifestyle, I never did, I thought I did- but I don’t. I don’t want to come home to a guy who won’t let me touch his shirt because it might get wrinkled or ruined, I wanna be with someone who doesn’t care what happens to their shirt when I touch it or tear it off of them. I want to be with you, Eddie. You’re it for me.” You were out of breath, and you looked over to see him staring straight ahead at the road in front of him. “You’re the one who told me to go talk to him! God, just take me to Robin’s if you’re going to be a bitch like this today.”

“Was going to anyway.” He scoffed and you turned in your seat to stare out the window and hold back tears. You two never fought like this. Ever.

Hours had passed, and you and Robin got ready together before leaving for the party at the new Harrington house. You’d changed into something more fun for the party- a mini skirt with tights, your black doc martens, and a cut up band tee from one of the local bands that had passed through your bar one night.

“Eddie’s really not coming?” Robin spoke halfway over to Steve’s new house. She knew the way, so you let her drive. She also said she’d be DD tonight, only having one drink at the time of arrival and nothing else.

“I guess not, he was being so not like himself earlier. He swore that I still had a thing for Steve and that I was undressing him as we talked. Robin, Eddie has said he thought Steve was attractive before. Anyone with two eyes can see that.”

“He’ll get over it, he’s probably just feeling insecure about it because of the last time we were all at a party together.” She brushed it off, but you couldn’t as you bit the inside of your lip.

One hour into the party, and you were drunk. You didn’t know how many tequila sodas with lime you’d had, but it was enough that Robin was already giving you the eye. You spent so many of your nights at the bar not drinking, that you wanted to have fun tonight celebrating the kids graduation before the show at the Hideout the next night.

“Having fun?” Steve slid up beside you as you were pouring another drink for yourself.

“Your bar has definitely improved since high school parties.”

“Where’s Eddie?” He was quick to look around for your boyfriend.

“Oh, I don’t know. Robin and I came here together because Eddie was too much of a bitch to me earlier, saying we were- like you and me- were undressing each other with our eyes while we were talking at graduation, and even though I told him if he pulled over on the side of the road I’d-”

“Whoa, whoa, I don’t need to hear all of that. I was just asking where he was because I wanted to talk to him too. Do you know if he’s coming at all?”

You shrugged as you skillfully cut a lime wedge and tossed it into your cup. “No idea. Guess we’ll have to find out later.”

Later came soon enough, and it happened to be when everyone had decided to jump into Steve and his fiancé’s pool, most of you in whatever clothes or underwear you had on under clothes. No one was thinking twice about it either, since you’d all been friends for so long and were a little more mature about this type of thing. And you were all pretty drunk at this point in the night, too.

“Cannonball!” Dustin yelled as he jumped in, splashing you and Robin for the tenth time tonight.

“Uh oh, the fun just got here.” She said to you as she pointed her finger towards the back gate. You watched as Eddie opened the gate and stalked over to the pool, and scanned the pool of bodies for yours. Your back was to him, so you secretly hoped he wouldn’t see you, maybe? You were at the point you would’ve been happier going home alone with Robin and he stayed at Wayne’s.

“How’d he find the house?”

“The uh, invite is probably on my fridge or something. I left a key under the mat in case I wasn’t home yet when you guys came by to drop your stuff off, so I can only assume that’s how he has the address?” You couldn’t hear what she was saying as you blankly stared at her, feeling Eddie’s eyes on your mostly bare back.

You heard him say your name loud enough for you to hear, but you ignored him and took another sip of your drink. He repeated himself, but louder and you felt like a child getting in trouble with their parents.

You slowly turned to look at him, and he was crouched by the edge of the pool. He curled his finger at you to come towards him. You waded through the pool and with each step your stomach felt sicker and sicker- you wish it was from the alcohol, and not your nerves.

“You decided to show up?” You joked, leaning against the pool.

“Why the fuck are you in your goddamn underwear in Steve Harrington’s pool? Get out.” His voice was thick with disgust.

“No, I’m having fun.” You shook your head.

“Come on, we’re leaving.”

“I’m having fun with Robin.” If you could stomp your foot like a child right now, you would have.

“Do you want me to drag you out of there? I don’t want his eyes on you.”

“Not like it’s anything I haven’t seen before.” Suddenly Steve was beside you- a safe distance, but enough to hear the conversation. “Got a problem, Munson? Didn't wanna come party?”

“Fuck off, Harrington.” He spat at him, and you were disgusted by both boys pissing contest. You heard a swoosh of water, and suddenly Steve was pushing against the edge of the pool to climb out. Dripping in water, in his boxer briefs, he stepped closer and closer to Eddie.

“She’s having fun, leave her alone.” Steve stated boldly.

“I can make my own decisions.” You tried to hoist yourself out of the pool and you miserably failed. Eddie stepped over to offer his hands, and you took them to skip having to walk over to the pool steps. Very quickly, Eddie was shrugging off his jacket and draped it over your shivering shoulders.

“C’mon, let’s get you dressed and out of here.” He tried to coax you but you hesitated.

“Why didn’t you come here sooner?” You asked.

“We’ll talk about it in the car.” He said, pulling on your hand gently. Steve looked between the both of you, as his fiancé walked up behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Of course her underwear was more intriguing than yours- it probably had cost Steve a fortune and a half to purchase and it was the type that probably would be ruined in pool water.

“I want my question answered Eddie. I was waiting all night for you to come here, and-”

“I said, we’ll talk about it in the fucking car.” He got in your face and spoke through gritted teeth. You had absolutely never seen him like this- and then you saw it. His eyes were bloodshot- and not from weed, red from crying.

“O-okay.” You agreed and quietly followed, grabbing your clothes on your way out. You didn’t bother putting them on, you just climbed into the car and Eddie turned the heat on as he started to drive off slowly.

“I went to see Wayne and he told me that my dad died. I don’t know why I’m so fucking upset, I hated the man, but-” you put your hand on his leg as he choked on a cry.

“It’s your dad, shitty or not, it’s still your dad.”

“Then, to see you, in your underwear, in the guy who broke your fucking heart into a million pieces pool while I’ve spent the last year of my life helping you put them back together all while falling in love with you, I just- I don’t fucking get it, man.” He was doing the thing where he cries but laughs it off because he’s so upset. “I thought I was past this, thought we were past this but I guess not.” The rest of the ride was completely silent. Eddie took a deep breath as he stopped the car in the parking lot of Robin’s apartment complex. “Please tell me you’re over him.”

“Eddie, I’ve told you a thousand times-”

“I can’t take you lying to me.”

“Do you want me to say I still love him?! What kind of answer do you want from me, Eddie? I’m telling you the fucking truth. I let you move into my place, I sleep beside you every goddamn night and even before we were officially dating, just the thought of you not being feet away from me on that stupid pull out couch was enough to make me realize I wanted you, you’re the one I want. I don’t want that life Steve has, I’ve told you time and time again. I’m so fucking happy with you Eddie. I don’t want the fancy cars, the big trips, the overcompensating with a big house. I want our life we have right now, the one we’ve made over the last year. This is why I don’t like coming back here, because it brings up all of this old shit that has settled like dust already. I don’t want anything to do with Steve Harrington anymore. Okay?”

“Okay.” He answered, and turned off the car. He slowly got out of it, and walked over to your side to help you out- your ass cheeks had stuck to the leather of the seat and he walked behind you to keep you decent.

The next morning came and went quickly, all three of you were far too hungover to do anything more than to eat junk food and watch movies in Robin’s living room. The shrill shriek of her phone made all of your heads pound, and she couldn’t get up off the couch quick enough to answer it.

“Yeah… she’s fine. Uh huh. He’s here too. Okay. Ooooookay, then.” Robin hung up the phone and sat back down. “Steve’s not coming to the show tonight, he said he’s sorry.” Eddie sighed a sigh of relief, and you swallowed loudly enough to make him look at you with wide eyes.

“Sorry, just… feel like I’m gonna be sick.” You hopped up and ran to the bathroom, and slammed the door shut. About ten minutes later, you heard a knock on the door and the door slowly opened and you looked up at Eddie from the seat you’d taken on the floor. He joined you, and asked if you were okay.

“M’fine, just drank too much last night. Don’t let me do that again tonight.”

“Well, Steve won’t be there, so I don’t suspect you’ll have to drink away your feelings.” He muttered as another hurl came up, and Eddie held your hair back for you.

“I cannot be your friend, so I pay the price of what I lost, and what it cost- now that we don’t talk.”

1993

You fixed your eyeliner in the mirror with the shakiest hand you’d ever had. You messed up again, and muttered a “fuck” loudly to the room of your closest girlfriends.

“Let me help, your eye is going to be raw.” Nancy sat down on the bench beside you and you turned to her in your white silk robe to let her fix your makeup.

“Probably going to cry it all off anyway. When I went out to grab drinks, Dustin said Eddie’s a wreck too.” Robin chimed in and you looked at her quickly.

“Nervous? Is he going to call it off?” Your stomach churned at the thought of it.

“The man would do anything for you. I think we’ve all seen that over the last few years. Now, sit still before this eyeliner wing ends up in your hairline.”

It was yours and Eddie’s wedding day, finally. You’d both opted for a small wedding, with his bandmates, old and new, your closest group of friends, small family members, and no one else. Eddie and his band had blown up the music scene over the last few years, and you’d been along for the ride the entire time with him- all of the ups and downs. A big wedding was something you never wanted, and with his newfound fame, it made more sense to keep it small and intimate.

Your hands were shaky as you paced the now empty bridal suite, surely you’d worn the carpet down by how many times you’d walked back and forth. You didn’t know why, but you just felt something was off. You mentally checked everything off on your list and you weren’t forgetting anything. Your handwritten vows were in the hidden pocket of your dress, Robin had Eddie’s ring, and Dustin had your ring.

Then came the knock on the door. You hesitated, not wanting it to be Eddie trying to sneak a peak in your moment of solitude before the ceremony.

“Who is it?” You asked through the thin, wood door.

“It’s me, Steve.” The voice on the other side was shaky as he spoke. You hadn’t seen him in a while, probably a few years actually. He’d gotten married, but Eddie was on tour so you couldn’t make it back home. The weekend of Steve’s wedding was actually one of the only weekends Eddie didn’t have a show, but you didn’t question Eddie when he said he needed to have a weekend off and not go home for the wedding. You didn’t want to go alone, so you stayed back too. “Mind if I come in?” He sounded scared, but he probably was. There had been absolutely no communication between you two in a very long time, and it was all on your side.

“Yeah sure, but not for long.” You opened the door to see him standing there, dressed smart as always.

“You look absolutely stunning.” He took in the sight of your intricate lace gown that showed off your tattooed skin, and complimented your body shape perfectly.

“Thanks, but I don’t think you should-”

“You’re absolutely right. I shouldn’t be here, so I’m not. I’m leaving, but I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.” Your eyebrows furrowed. “Clearly you don’t want us to be friends, so I was shocked to even receive an invitation to your wedding, but after thinking about it more, and now seeing you- I really don’t need to be here. I talked to Eddie, and he had a letter to give to you, so he gave it to me to give to you before I left.”

You paused before speaking, and you looked at the man who stood before you holding a letter from your almost husband with shaky hands. He’d changed a little bit, but you both had. His scars on his face were lighter but still there, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he’d told his wife how he got it yet. Had she even asked yet how he’d gotten any of them, at that? The golden highlights in his hair were still there, shiny as ever. And his eyes were warm, warm like his nickname for you- honey.

You were speechless as you continued to stare blankly at him, your mouth couldn’t form any words, except “Thank you. Bye, Steve.” He nodded, smiled, and walked away, and out of your life forever.

You decided you couldn’t be friends as you watched him walk away, with all the things you’d lost- like the pieces of your heart that you’d never get back, that he’d taken without asking. You watched him through the window as he wiped an eye, hoping it was the wind causing the tear, but by the way his hair stayed in place you knew it wasn’t. But you knew he’d felt the same way, come to the same conclusion.

You couldn’t be friends anymore, you couldn’t even talk.

#eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things one shot #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson x you #Steve Harrington x you #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic

[gaylordscooter]

The Ghost Pointed at Me

He was a replacement. He knew that much. His name didn't belong to him. It was stolen. Stolen from who? He didn't know and it wasn't easy getting answers.

He was an Underswap Sans. He knew that much. He was stronger than him, kinder than him, overall a better person.

He was a shabby replacement. He would hardly be qualified to be his shadow.

And yet they called him “Blue” anyway.

He woke up earlier than normal today, slipping into his usual outfit right away. Hearts should still be in sleep mode. So he didn't have to worry about him catching him on the way out. He didn't want him questioning where he was going so early in the morning. He knows he'd want to tag along.

He quietly made his way out of the house, Dream nor Ink caught him either. They never did. Sneaking out was a skill of his. He used to do it all the time late at night when he’d go out to the lab. His brother always hated it when he worked after hours. Said it wasn't worth doing when he was just an intern.

That was one of the few memories he still had of him. He clung to it like a prized possession.

He hopped on his motorcycle that was parked right outside. It wasn't like anyone was going to steal it. Hardly anyone had access to the Doodlesphere.

He started its engine, immediately driving away towards a bucket that led to an Underswap. The noise probably alerted them now, but they'd never caught up to him by this point.

He's been visiting as many Underswap universes as he could, trying to see if any of them were off in some way. They wouldn't be missing a Sans. By the time a reset rolled around a new one would take his place.

He was mainly interested in looking at its code. From there he’d be able to find out how long the Sans of that universe has existed.

He didn't really know what his end goal with this was. Say he found the universe that belonged to the Blue before him, then what?

It's not like he’d find anything new there. Originally he was looking for a universe like his, but he gave up on that a long time ago. Being “unique” seemed impossible in the multiverse, but as it turned out his universe was one of a kind.

Because it was unstable.

And then of course the multiverse decided to throw something unexpected at him.

Error was in the universe he decided to go to.

The Snowdin of the place was on lockdown. Everyone was presumably taking refuge in Muffet’s as Error stalked around the area like a rabid animal.

Currently, he was in the “find the human” phase of his destruction, so he wasn't wiping everything out in the vicinity for now. Wiping everything out might get the human to reset which would kick any foreign code out into the void, which would be a hassle.

Except if he saw an outsider like him he’d immediately turn attention to him.

Lucky him.

He got ready to drive the hell out of here. Of course, it was now that his motorcycle’s engine decided to have problems. It sputtered, as if to mock him, when he tried revving it.

Unfortunately, his attempted escape only drew the destructor’s attention.

His mismatched eyelights landed right on him. Those unnatural, perfectly straight teeth skewed in a lopsided smile.

He felt his soul sputter just like the engine.

He got off the motorcycle and made a break for it. Of course, it was in vain. Error’s strings caught his soul immediately.

It felt like a million paper cuts littered his soul, but it didn't deal any damage. Yet.

He was a fly trapped in the spider’s web. He was as good as dead.

Maybe Ink read his script for today and already knew this was going to happen. He was going to show up any second now to save him.

He awkwardly smiled back, mostly with his eyes, at the glitchy skeleton.

Any second now.

“Wh-what are you doing here, here?” he questioned. His voice and form were unstable as usual. It took Blue a second to register what he said.

“Uhhh, I could ask the same to you! We haven't seen you go to an Underswap in a long time,” he replied.

The strings tightened around his soul causing him to yelp. A warning.

A loud static noise cut through the air as a star-shaped rift tore itself open right behind Error.

“Error, what did i say about attacking MY HOME?”

Error whipped his head around to face the new voice. “Hm, l-lemme think—Oh right, right! I don't care what you s-said.”

Blue stared wide-eyed at the two bickering. The new guy looked similar to Error with his inverted colors—or lack of colors should he say. It looked like most of his body was a black hole. The red torn-up bandana around his neck along with his pearlescent purple arms mostly covered up by his gloves and shirt sleeves looked to be in a different reality from the rest of him.

He stared back at him in turn. Suddenly all of his attention locked on him as if Error wasn't right in front of him.

Faster than Blue could blink, he was out of the rift and standing in front of him.

“Oh hey, it's you,” he said.

“HEY, DON’T JUST IGNORE ME!”

He ignored him. He circled around Blue, almost reaching out to touch him but stopping himself before he actually made contact. “You don’t look like me at all.”

“P-pardon?” Blue managed to breathe out.

“Oh right, we’ve never formally met.” He offered his hand for a handshake. “The name’s Blazar, but I’ve heard I used to be called Blue too.”

Blue was stunned. “Oh—uh, hi?” He reached his hand towards his, only for Blazar to yank his own away like he was about to be burnt.

“Ha-ha! I keep forgetting not to do that!” He looked at his hand as if he was scolding it and took a few steps away from him.

He internally took note of his wording “never formally met” and that he knew he was called Blue without him telling him. It was highly likely he’d watched him from a distance before. “Not to do what?”

“Contact. Physical contact,” he specified. His dead-serious expression caught him off guard.

Blue’s gaze shifted away from him and noticed the lack of Error’s presence. He probably went off to resume his human-hunting.

Blazar seemed to notice this first. He looked more annoyed than anything. He sighed, “Hang on a moment.”

He teleported away or just moved away extremely fast.

He was back a second later, dusting his gloves off as if he had just taken out the trash. “Sorry about him. He has his reasons for acting that way.”

Blue looked confused, wondering what exactly he did to Error. “Yeah, sure.”

“Anyway, so you're the new Blue!” Blazar held his hands out to him as if he was presenting him to a crowd.

Blue sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Listen, I didn't mean to take your place. Ink just—”

“Oh, I don't care about that,” he assured, waving a hand dismissively. “It's not like I can be jealous when I don't even remember what it was like, hah.”

His expression shifted to concern. “what do you mean?”

Noticing the dip in the mood, he continued to sound and look cheery to bring it back up. “I don't remember anything before…before becoming ‘Blazar’—but I don't care! Can't miss what you’ve never had!” He laughed as he said that.

Blue gave him a look of pity. He lost some of his memories of his old life too, but he couldn't imagine being so positive about it. The way he acted reminded him of Dream. He knew from personal experience that “can't miss what you've never had” didn't apply when you did have it and you just forgot you did. He knows he’s had plenty of nights stressing over his lost memories.

Did he even know that he had a brother? Did he remember his friends from his universe?

“So how’s Ink and Dream doing?” he asked, completely oblivious to Blue’s inner thoughts. As he should be.

“Oh, they're doing fine. They had a little argument recently, but they’ve gotten over it.” It was more like Dream forgave Ink and Ink forgot about it. Close enough.

“That's good. So they're doing fine without me.”

Blue’s eyelights darted to the side.

“Again, I’m not mad about that,” he assured. “Why are you so scared?” He frowned.

Blue backed up unconsciously, raising his hands in defense. “Listen, I’m sure you're a nice monster—”

“I am.”

“—but, uh, I can't help but be a bit spooked by how similar you look t—”

“I am not like Error,” his voice distorted as he said that. Despite his words, he looked just as fierce as Error when he's mad.

Blue stayed quiet, looking just about ready to flee.

Blazar calmed down, realizing that he was only scaring him more. He was about to reach out to comfort him, but ended up hugging his own arms instead. “Sorry, I’m…” he paused to take a breath, “I’m not as pleasant as I used to be. I should go.”

“Wait—”

He disappeared before Blue could respond.

He stood there for a moment in the empty forest of Snowdin. So that’s what happened to the Blue before him. He didn't die, he became an error. A part of him died, he supposed.

How could something like that happen?

Ink should know. He should know he's alive. Maybe he forgot, and thought he did die because Dream acts like he did.

Blazar asked how Ink and Dream are doing. Why doesn't he check on them himself?

He snapped out of his thoughts when he realized that monsters were exiting Muffet’s now. Not wanting to draw attention to himself, he scrambled over to his motorcycle and hopped on.

Thankfully it worked now and he was able to drive out of there and open a rift back to the Doodlesphere.

When he got back to the house, he opened the front door and was greeted by Ink. He flinched back with a yelp.

“Were you just standing there the entire time?!”

“Of course not. I knew when you were coming back—but that's besides the point.” He grabbed Blue by the shoulders and shook him. “What were you doing in a universe that Error was in?!”

Blue spun in place to get out of Ink’s hold. “I didn't know he would be there. Also if you knew, why didn’t you help me?”

Ink crossed his arms. “Because someone else already did, right?”

“That ‘someone else’ is someone you know!”

Ink blinked. “Is it? I didn’t really pay attention to who it was.” He scratched his chin thoughtfully.

Blue facepalmed. “Buddy, it was the Blue before me that saved me.”

Ink sputtered. “Whuh, huh? That guy’s alive?”

“Don't act so nonchalant!”

“This is not me acting ‘nonchalant’. I didn't know he was alive!”

“Shouldn't you though?”

Ink gritted his teeth, looking coy. “Mmmaybe?” He shrugged.

Blue sighed, “Is Dream out? I think he should know about this.”

“Of course he's out. When is he ever in one place? I’ll tell him when I have the chance.”

“No, I want to tell you both what happened to him,” he insisted. “This is important enough to have a proper meeting about.” They didn't usually have meetings like people assumed they had. Honestly, the perception of “The Star Sanses” in general was humorously inaccurate. They weren't really the heroes of the multiverse that everyone made them out to be—well maybe Dream was, but for the most part, Ink and he weren't all that heroic. And they certainly did not plan out how to efficiently help everyone out in the multiverse, nor was that their goal in the first place.

Ink tilted his head. “Something happened to him?” Something seemed to click for him. He reached for his scarf and skimmed over the notes on it. “Oh, right.”

“So now you remember.”

Ink’s now blue-green eyelights spelled guilt. “You know my memory isn't the greatest.”

That was his way of saying “You know I didn't want to forget something like that.” If it was important enough to be written about on his scarf, that had to be true.

Blue’s expression softened, regretting his accusatory tone. “Right.”

Ink sighed, “I should get Dream.” He was already painting a portal beneath him. “I’ll be back as soon as possible.” He disappeared a second later.

“Finally, that prick’s gone,” Hearts strutted in from the hallway and approached him. He tended to avoid Ink as he did with every Sans. It was like merely looking at them made them ill. Except for Blue for some reason. Maybe it was because of trust. That sounded right. “He was watching the door like a dog waiting for its owner.”

“Was he pacing?”

“Like a caged animal.”

“You sure like comparing Ink to animals,” he remarked. “But never the right ones. He’s like an excitable ferret.” He was a thing of boundless energy and hyperactivity. But he wasn't like a dog. Dogs were loyal.

“Is that something you waste your time thinking about, darling?” he teased.

Blue suppressed his grin from widening at the meaningless pet name. “And you're like a cat abusive to its owner.”

He gasped, holding a hand to his chest like he was offended. Scratch that, not “like he was”, he was definitely offended. “Are you calling me your pet?!”

“I Did Not Say Anything of the Sort,” he said slyly, darting his eyelights to the side. He held back a laugh as Hearts scoffed. Their banter brought his mood up after his encounter with Error and Blazar, but he still dreaded the meeting to come.

Ink will probably explain some things; that was his hope, but he also feared it. It was likely he wasn't going to like what he was going to hear, but a worse-case scenario would be if Ink tried to skirt around telling him. He needed to know. Rip the bandage off, as they say.

“Are you alright, darling? I don't usually eavesdrop on your conversations with him, but it sounded serious.”

That's definitely a lie. He eavesdropped all the time, but he appreciated Hearts’s genuine concern.

Blue rubbed at his neck. “Eh, I could be worse. I’m mostly stressed, is all.”

“Glad to see you're doing the same as usual.”

“Hey!”

“I’m joking, darling.” He noticed a puddle of paint flowing out from the ground behind Blue. “That's my cue to leave. I hope your meeting goes smoothly. I don't want to hear yelling while I’m relaxing.” He already started walking back to the hallway to get to his room.

“Seeya,” Blue said. He tried putting his hands in his lab coat’s pockets. He always did that out of habit despite said pockets being torn off along with the rest of the bottom half of it a while ago. He opted to put his hands on his hips instead. He turned around as Ink and Dream came out of the portal of paint.

Dream still had that beaming smile on his face. Of course he did. He never not smiled, which wasn't all that unusual for Sanses but even they would stop smiling when pushed too far. The point was, Dream’s expression gave nothing away as to what Ink had told him already.

“So Blue called a team meeting,” Ink explained. “That Mettaton’s not listening in, is he?” He looked around the entry room as if he was hiding in it.

“Does it matter?” Blue asked. Ink’s never showed concern for that before.

“I guess not,” he shrugged but he still looked a tad bothered.

It was because this was a personal thing, he assumed.

“Why don't we sit down before we start?” Dream suggested.

Blue took that offer immediately, sitting down on the couch by the front door. Already, his leg was bouncing.

Dream sat next to him but Ink continued to stand. Blue knew he was going to start pacing once they began talking.

“So, Blue, you wanna start us off?” Ink said.

“Oh, uh, sure.” He clapped his hands together, trying to make eye contact with Dream. Only to immediately fail and look down at the floor. “So…I called this meeting because, uh. I met this guy named Blazar.”

“Oh, a new guy!” Dream sounded excited.

Blue stretched his smile out, making it uneven. “Yep, uh, not actually ‘new’.” He really shouldn't be stretching this out that much. He should just spit it out, but he's never been good at delivering news like this. “It's…the old Blue actually.”

“He's alive!” Dream beamed. He couldn't help but stand. “You got to meet him? Did it go well? I think you two would get along great!”

Blue looked just about ready to call the meeting there instead of dousing Dream’s joy with the bad news. “It went bad, actually.”

“Oh.” He still sounded hopeful. Right, dousing Dream’s joy wasn't exactly an easy task.

“Well, not that bad? It was mostly awkward—besides the point. He's an error now.” Finally. Finally, he got it out.

Dream looked clueless. He tilted his head. “I don't believe I understand. How can one be a mistake?”

Ink pinched the bridge of his nasal bone. “No, he's an ‘error’ now. Y’know like Error. There's others like him where their code’s all messed up.”

“Well, at least he's alive.”

Ink’s eyelights flashed red for a moment. His smile was strained. Unlike other Sanses, Ink’s smile wasn't his default. It was a practiced thing and said practice would melt away at a moment’s notice.

“Did I say something wrong?” Dream asked.

Ink and Blue shared a glance.

“I’m not—I’m not mad at you, Dream,” Ink said.

“I see! Well, thank you for sharing the good news, Blue. I had no idea he was alive.”

“Dream, it's not really good news,” Blue said gently while wringing his hands together.

This was the thing with Dream. It was impossible to get him to see the bad in things. That sounded like a good trait to have but Ink and Blue knew from personal experiences that one could indeed be overly optimistic.

“But he’s alive.”

“And he's an error!” Ink snapped, throwing them both off. “I did that to him!” He stopped speaking as abruptly as he started. He covered his mouth, looking shocked at his own words.

Blue looked agape at him, while Dream merely looked surprised and sat back down.

“What do you mean, Ink?” Blue asked.

Ink’s hands scraped at his skull, staying over his mouth.

“What do you mean you did that to him?” He kept his voice surprisingly level.

Ink forced his hands down by his sides. “The day we fought Error in his Underswap we were getting reckless—He was getting reckless. I knew what was going to happen. I knew he would become an error that day. I couldn't do anything—no—I did do something. I set it up for him and I did my part in making it happen. He cornered him and I just watched—”

“Ink, slow down!” Blue got up to put a hand on his shoulder.

Ink’s gaze focused on him. His eyelights were still rapidly changing. He pushed Blue away to turn around and hack up black paint on the ground. “Eugh.” He wiped his mouth. “How much of that did you understand?” his words slurred together.

“I didn't get any of that,” Blue said.

“Good.” He paused, held a hand up, and turned around to throw up again. “Twice in the same minute, hah,” he said humorlessly. “I’m calling the end of this meeting.”

Neither Blue nor Dream objected. In fact, Dream’s gone quiet ever since Ink yelled.

Ink left without a word or explanation as to where he was going. He needed alone time, they knew that, but it was anyone's guess how long he’d be out for.

Blue was about to head over to his room to rest, but Dream spoke up first.

“Blue, can you…stay here for a bit?” He’s never asked something like that before. Something for himself.

Blue’s sockets widened. “Yeah,” he sat back down on the couch, “I can stay.”

Dream couldn't meet his gaze. He just continued staring forward, not even at a wall but at the air in front of it. “Thank you.” His expression didn't show it, but for some reason, Blue had a feeling Dream wanted to cry.

He looked happy. He acted happy, but that hunch was stubborn.

Blue wrapped an arm around him like he was comforting him as if he was crying.

Dream leaned into him, closing his eyes, smile as unfaltering as ever. He imagined that his tears would be spilling out more now that he closed it. They were golden, like leaves falling in the autumn.

That was only his imagination, of course. Dream can't cry. He can't even frown.

Blue couldn't begin to understand how it would feel to be unable to feel negative emotions. He's never said it out loud, but it was like you were half a person. Sure he had access to a good amount of the basic emotions, but most feelings were complex and were made up of both negative and positive emotions.

Of course, Dream’s brother has to deal with only feeling negative emotions. However, while it seemed like one had it worse than the other, Blue was beginning to think neither had it better than the other.

What would Dream be feeling right now if he could feel negative emotions?

Blue noticed Dream’s hand trembling  Only one, however, as if that was all he was allowed to show.

“Something's not right.” He sounded like a robot going against his coding. “I’m not feeling the right emotion.” His words contrasted his ever-gleeful tone.

“I'm sorry.” Blue didn't know what else to say.

“Sorrow, guilt. That's it.” He brought his hands together to keep his other hand still. “I’m sorry,” he replied. It was almost like a prayer.

The way he said his apologies never sounded genuine, but Blue would pretend it did for him. In the end, there was hardly a difference.

After a few more minutes, Dream stood up and opened a portal. “Thank you again, Blue. I’ll see you later.” Just like that, he went back to doing his job.

And the house was sans two Sanses once more. Although neither of them really were Sanses.

He headed over to his room.

Hearts was lounging around on his bed, a common occurrence despite him having a room of his own. This was something he tended to do when he had something to show or say to him. He gave him a smirk.

“What?”

“I recorded Ink’s little spiel. I can slow it down for you if you want,” he offered.

So that's why Ink didn't want him listening, Blue thought. He shrugged. “What the heck, sure.” He sat next to him.

Hearts replayed it at a speed Blue could understand.

He had a hand covering his mouth as he listened.

Hearts was entirely unfazed by it, mainly because he didn't understand the significance of it.

Ink blamed himself for Blazar’s predicament. Ink never blamed himself, at least he never admitted so.

It was illogical for him to blame himself, and Ink was pretty logical when it came to this sort of thing. When it came to scripts. 

“I never thought the soulless guy could be such a drama queen,” Hearts remarked.

Blue learned a long time ago that soullessness has nothing to do with dramatics, but he kept that to himself. He picked up the journal he kept on his bedside counter to jot some stuff down.

Like the nosy guy he was, Hearts looked over his shoulder to watch him write.

Blue rolled his eyelights, “Read if you want but you're not going to understand any of it and I’m not explaining any of this to you.”

“I just enjoy watching you steer off-topic,” he said.

“Tough luck, I’m not writing an entry.” He wrote down directions to the specific bucket of that universe as well as the name “Blazar”. He closed it and put the journal back.

With that over, he realized how hungry he was.

“I’m going to Grillby’s,” he said. “You want anything?”

“I don't eat that garbage, darling.”

“You say that like you didn't establish your own fast-food restaurant,” Blue said.

“You don't know if I did that in my universe,” Hearts retorted.

Right, because he never told him anything about his past. Regardless, he was sure he did do that. All the other Underfell Mettatons did. There wasn't any reason for him to be an outlier.

“Sure. I’ll see you later.”

#utmv fic #blue(BSsans) #ink sans #dream sans

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ IS IT OVER NOW? (IT ISN'T) ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ streamer!au: all good things come to an end, including your relationship—but don't worry, broken hearts can be mended, but only if you're both willing to try.

contents: fem!reader. you two break up and make up! you guys fight/break up over something that coulda been resolved with better communication. kinda suggestive ending, maybe i'll drop a part two if this does alright. satoru announces your break-up on his stream. longest fic i've posted so far, 4k words (kms).

author's note: the long awaited angst has finally arrived.. big thank you to @screampied for beta-reading!! tagging @yunymphs who read it early and @sutorus + @kentopedia who i both miss very much!!

ever since you first joined satoru on his stream, it’s gotten way more popular than either of you could’ve ever expected. before he brought you onto his live, he was averaging about eight thousand views per stream. now, his average was well over fifteen thousand—and that wasn't even including the publicity he got from other websites. when satoru accidentally left the camera on while you two made out, you two went viral on twitter. and when another user tried to swipe him away, the clip got over a hundred thousand views on youtube.

at first, satoru didn't mind the change his stream was going through—in fact, he welcomed it. but lately, things have been… different.

last week, while satoru was playing in some competition, he won first out of hundreds of equally proficient players. had it been anyone else, their comments would've been filled with congratulations and good job's, but in his case, all satoru got were messages asking where you were. that wasn’t the first time—ever since that very first day, when you showed up on his stream, satoru’s audience has entirely shifted. and honestly, if you were in his position, you'd be a bit annoyed. anyone would be. 

but you had never expected that it would be so big of a deal that you and satoru—the "cutest couple on the internet"—would break up over it.

you walk along the chilly, suburban sidewalk up to your boyfriend’s house. satoru had just sent you a message asking if you could come over, and like always, you answered with an immediate yes. a flock of crows fly by, raven feathers providing a stark contrast between them and the pale gray sky around you. it’s gray and gloomy, but not unpleasant. 

a sweet, romantic song plays in your ears as you knock three times on satoru’s front door. his familiar voice calls out “coming!”, and you can hear his footsteps grow louder and louder until he swings open the door. satoru smiles down at you, cheeks already rosy from the cold winter air. “hey.”

you tilt your head and smile back at him. “that’s all i get? hey?” you huff, walking into his living room behind him as the door closes behind you. “d’you have any hot chocolate? i’m freezing,” you say, licking your lips. satoru turns and pauses, an unreadable expression on his face. “satoru?”

after a moment, your boyfriend snaps out of it. “oh, yeah, sorry,” he says ruefully. satoru rubs his eyes with one hand and uses the other to open the door to his bedroom, and as you follow him in, you’re hit with a blast of warm air. “i’m just kinda tired, but yeah, i have some hot cocoa in here. c’mon.”

“anything i can do for you?” you offer, sitting down on the corner of his bed. you’ve been to his house so many times that it feels like home—maybe even more so than your own place. everything about satoru’s room is comfortable, from his plush chairs to the faux-fur blankets draped over every single piece of his furniture. you could probably fall over at any given point and it wouldn’t actually hurt—you’d just land on something soft and/or fluffy.

but that wasn’t all that made you so in love with his home. it was just the way it felt—words couldn’t describe the way everything was just so right and just so perfect, and you really did hope that you’d never have to see a time where you wouldn’t be able to spend time with your boyfriend here.

it really is a shame that all good things had to come to an end. at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself as satoru finally told you why he called you over. unlike nearly every other time, it wasn’t because he missed you or wanted to cuddle—it was quite the opposite, really.

“i don’t think this is working.”

six words that shattered the life you had come to know and love.

“is this a joke?” you try, an unnerved smile spreading across your lips against your will. he doesn’t reply instantly, which is so out-of-character for him that it makes you stiffen up. “satoru, this isn’t funny—”

“i’m not kidding,” satoru murmurs, looking away. he refuses to meet your eyes, and some part of you is still desperately trying to find reason in the chaos that’s slowly taking over your mind. how could it be that everything was just fine two minutes ago and now it’s anything but that? did something happen? did you say the wrong thing? did you—

“it’s not funny,” you insist, still somehow clinging onto your slowly-dwindling hope. maybe you’re in denial, but still, you were sure that everything was fine—no, that everything is fine. there was no past-tense, right? how could the glass home you’d built with your bare hands just crash down at the throw of a pebble?

satoru finally meets your eyes, and your breath catches in your throat. there’s no amused glimmer in his eyes, no “just kidding” in sight, and even worse, you can’t even see an ounce of the love or adoration you’d come to grow so attached to in just a couple months.

“what happened?” you whisper, miraculously managing to keep yourself together. you’d never forgive yourself if you just started crying over a breakup you weren’t even sure was happening—what little’s left of your pride is holding on. you allow yourself to wrap your arms around your chest, curling into your own embrace. 

satoru doesn’t reply for a long second. right when you’re sure he just won’t reply, he does, and it all comes spilling out in a messy stream of words. “it’s just… i can’t do this anymore. i can’t keep going online and seeing everyone on my stream talking about you. i love you, i really do, but it’s just—” satoru shakes his head frustratedly. “i don’t know how to say it, but you know what i mean, right?”

your eyebrows furrow and you shake your head. “you’re breaking up with me because you’re tired of seeing me?”

“no, fuck,” satoru groans, running a hand through his hair. his previously cool and collected demeanor starts to fall apart as he takes a step back. “i don’t know how to explain it, but— shit, you wouldn’t understand.”

you swallow and start to stand up, still willing to try. “then help me understand, satoru, i—”

“you’ve seen the comments, and you’ve seen all the posts on twitter,” satoru says, tilting his head back and glaring at the ceiling. “it’s not your fault, but i really just can’t stand everyone disregarding me and turning my own stream into a youtube channel starring you.”

his words sting like alcohol in an open wound, and you fight the battle of your life to prevent the thousands of tears hiding behind your eyes from being visible. even so, your voice wobbles ever so slightly as you say “that’s a bullshit reason to break up, satoru—”

your boyfriend—is he even still your boyfriend?—scoffs and shakes his head, stumbling back and falling into his chair. "for you, it isn't. you wouldn’t understand. for me, it's like everyone's just... invalidating the three years i've spent on this shit. and i can't do it anymore, i just can't."

you blink slowly, backing away towards his bedroom door. "what does that mean?"

satoru exhales a bitter laugh and turns away, the back of his chair facing you. you think you can hear him take a soft, shaky breath as the room falls silent. neither of you make a sound before satoru turns back toward you, a blank look on his face.

he looks up at you, azure eyes devoid of the sparkle you've become so familiar with. satoru smiles sadly, but to your dismay, there's no real emotion behind it. it's almost like he's already accepted it when he says, "it means we—" he pauses and looks away. "this is over."

you reach out toward him, desperate to hold on to him—to the invisible string that ties you and satoru together, but he's just out of your grasp. "satoru, it isn't even that big of a deal, why are you—"

satoru turns and fixes you with a stern glare, and just like that, the string that kept you and satoru together for months, maybe years snaps, and you're left with a limp strand of what it once was. taking the hint, you walk out of his room in a daze, hardly noticing the way he says "i'm sorry".

and the worst part? he said he still loved you. but apparently that wasn’t enough.

satoru has every right to be annoyed that his stream is only growing because of you—his stream was the way he made money, and after all, it was never meant to be about you. 

and maybe he was never meant to be for you either.

the walk home is cold and lonely. you slip a hand into your pocket—the pocket of satoru's hoodie, which you should probably return to him—and extract your earphones. it probably isn't a good idea to wear both outside as you walk home, but you do it anyway—this day can't possibly get any worse.

a soft voice murmurs words of sorrow and encouragement in your ear as the music takes you to another world. maybe this—the breakup—was meant to happen. maybe it was a mistake to date a boy with thousands of fans.

as soon as you get home, your phone dings softly. you pick it up and frown when you see it's from toru. you'd have to change that name later.

toru: idk if u blocked me already but i still have a lot of ur things, do u wanna come pick them up later?

toru: or i can drop them off tmrw ig

you miss the way he used to text you—with an obnoxious amount of exclamation points and an even worse amount of emojis. now, it's like all of the flavor's gone from his words, and it hurts. that's when it actually settles in, that this is really over. it hurts like an icicle being driven straight through your heart, and it stings like one, too.

satoru's texts are left on delivered for five whole minutes before you reply, and it's only with an "i'll come by tmrw". he likes the message less than a minute later, and you're left to wallow in your misery alone until you finally drift off to sleep.

the next morning, you open your phone to a notification alerting you that satoru’ll be live on stream in ten minutes. curiosity kills the cat, but in this case, maybe it’d be worth it to see what he tells his viewers about your breakup. after all, there’s no way he wouldn’t tell them—he always had something to say about you, and he’d probably rather tell them for sure rather than let them come up with ridiculous theories on their own.

so you hastily make a new account using some email account you haven’t touched since middle school, trying a couple different passwords until you remember the one that works. the website hits you with a hundred questions, asking you about your favorite games and who’d you like to subscribe to first. you choose satoru, albeit after a second of hesitation. two minutes later, sparklingzebra672 joins your ex-boyfriend’s stream. you wait a second, holding your breath as the live loads. a brief moment later, satoru’s painfully familiar face appears on your screen.

“hey guys,” satoru says, forcing a smile on his face. even from behind a screen, you swear you can feel his eyes on you. “how’s everyone today?” 

the already unstable smile on satoru’s face falls when he opens the comments and gets greeted with a flurry of where’s your girlfriend’s. had you been anyone else, you probably wouldn’t have noticed the way satoru’s eyes dulled ever so slightly or the way he curled into himself, but being the girl who once knew him best, you could tell.

“oh, she won’t be back on here for… a while,” satoru starts, dancing around the topic. he leans back against his chair and tilts his chin up, azure eyes focused on the ceiling. “we broke up.”

nothing could’ve prepared you for the way satoru’s comments explode. it’s almost like you can hear the shocked gasps coming from all fourteen—no, twenty thousand viewers as the words nobody thought would ever they’d hear from satoru are spoken.

suguru-geto: holy shit im so sorry 

toji-fushiguro: wait wtf r u kidding?? that's fuckin crazy

yuuji-itadori: omg i thought u guys were together forever :(

inumaki: chat is this real??

satoru shrugs, averting his eyes from the hundreds of comments pouring in, but you scroll through and read them all. everyone, even satoru’s haters, seems genuinely shocked. in fact, had this not been your own breakup, you would’ve been one of them, begging and pleading satoru for more details.

“yeah, we did,” satoru murmurs, eyebrows furrowing just enough for you to read his expression. now that you’re looking closer, you can see the subtle redness underneath his eyes—had he been crying too? and maybe you’re imagining it, but his hair seems a bit dishelved too. your ex-boyfriend shrugs, forcing his face back into his usual lighthearted expression, but it’s not fooling anyone.

satoru scowls at the new flood of comments asking him why you two broke up. some people are already hypothesizing—maybe it’s because you got jealous of his fame, or maybe he got sick of you. maybe you left him to go date some other streamer, or maybe—

“i’m actually gonna end the stream here, ‘cause i don��t really want to deal with all of this right now,” satoru says with a frown. his eyes are narrowed irritably as a couple users protest, still begging for more details. “you guys know that i’m a real person with my own life, right? fuck off.”

and just like that, the stream ends. you’re left with a blank screen and a message saying that satoru’s ended the live, so you shut your laptop. your stomach turns as you groan, just remembering that you have to go over to his place later to retrieve your things, and somehow, you’d have to pretend that you didn’t just stalk his stream to see if he’d say anything substantial about the breakup.

a couple minutes after the stream ends, your phone blows up—every mutual friend you and satoru have is messaging you about what he said, but you can’t bring yourself to open any of them. except for one.

suguru: r u ok?

you: yeah ig

suguru: do u want anything?

satoru’s best friend’s question catches you off-guard—there are a lot of things you want. you want this whole situation to go away. you want the world to disappear. and most of all, you want satoru back, without the online world attached.

but suguru can’t do any of those things, can he? so you leave him on read. 

somehow, you fall back asleep, tossing and turning in your bed without satoru’s steady arms to accompany you. a couple hours later, you wake up again, wincing from the dim sunlight that pours through your windows and directly into your eyes. it’s just past five, so you figure that you might as well go down to satoru’s house and get your things. better to do it now than drag it out for an uncertain amount of time.

the walk is shorter than you remember, but maybe it’s just the absence of music pouring into your ears that makes it seem that way. you watch the wilted autumn leaves flutter in the wind, falling down onto the sidewalk like pieces into place. once upon a time, you had walked these very streets with satoru—it’s a fond memory you remember only all too well.

when you finally step onto your ex’s doorstep, the door opens before you even have a chance to knock. and there he is—the boy who’d once been the love of your life. satoru looks down at you with an unreadable expression. “hey.”

you think you’ve seem this film before, and you didn’t like the ending.

satoru spares you from having to reply by opening the door wider and beckoning you inside. “i already put most of your stuff into a couple boxes, but i thought you’d wanna check on your own. just in case i forgot something.”

you nod and walk past him, not trusting your voice to be steady. this was harder than you expected—much harder. in fact, you’re practically on the verge of breaking down when you step into satoru’s room and look around and see just how different it looks without the touches of you everywhere.

the fortnite poster you’d given him as a joke for the second anniversary of his stream was gone from his wall, and so were the two mini succulents that used to sit on the corner of his desk. the white cat plushie that used to rest on his pillow was gone, too—probably stuffed somewhere in one of the boxes outside his bedroom door.

after nearly a minute of looking around, you decide that whatever satoru possibly could’ve missed wasn’t important enough for you to have to stick around any longer.

you turn and start to exit satoru’s room so fast that you nearly crash into him when he suddenly appears in the doorway. “shit, sorry about that,” you mumble, trying to walk around him. but of course, because the universe is actually praying on your downfall, you and satoru both walk the same way at the same time. you awkwardly try to go around each other, and eventually, the humiliation is over.

“so, you got everything?” satoru asks, walking beside you with his hands in his pockets. you nod, bending over to pick up one of the two boxes. it’s pretty heavy, but not unmanangable. you just don’t really seem to know if you’ll be able to carry both back home at once. 

“oh, uh, i’ll be right back,” you say tentatively. a flash of confusion appears in satoru’s eyes, so you clarify, “i’m gonna go grab my car. that’ll make it easier.”

satoru’s eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head. “no, it’s alright. your place isn’t far from here at all, i’ll just take the other and walk back with you.”

“no, really, it’s alright.”

“it’s the easiest option, ba—” satoru cuts himself off, stopping himself from calling you baby for the first time since you two had started dating. “sorry.”

“let’s just go.”

the walk back to your house is brutal. you walk side by side with satoru since the path is wide enough for you to do so, and you two just keep bumping into each other. had you still been dating, satoru probably would’ve dropped the box and scooped you up instead, kissing your cold face to warm it up. of course, that would’ve added five minutes to your walk, but it would’ve been better than the tense silence dividing you and satoru right now. 

the wind whistles around you, brushing at your skin and making you shiver with every gust—there’s nothing more you’d like than to go home, plop on your couch and cry while watching the titanic for the hundredth time. 

after what seems like three hundred awkward hours later, you and satoru finally make it to your house. “thanks,” you say quietly, setting down your box in front of the door. 

satoru places his next to yours and slips his hands back into his pockets. he nods and replies, “no problem,” but still doesn’t leave.

you cross your arms, and tilt your head, meeting his eyes hesitantly. “umm, do you need anything else?”

satoru coughs tensely and shrugs. “oh, uh, not really, just—” his eyes drift down to your top, and your face grows warm when you realize you’re still wearing his hoodie. 

“shit, my bad,” you mumble, internally cringing and resisting the urge to say every curse word you know. could this day really get any worse?

well, at least satoru looks equally as embarrassed. he shakes his head and gestures for you to keep it on. “it’s fine, it’s kinda cold anyways. keep it.” satoru hesitates, shuffling his feet before continuing, “if you want something… to remember me by.”

what you say next was done entirely against your will. “do you still love me?” you ask suddenly, not sure what otherworldly force prompted you to do so. you instantly regret it when satoru’s face goes even redder, and you can tell it’s not from the cold the way his blush spreads to his ears.

“i— uh, i mean—”

“answer me, satoru, i think i have a right to know.”

he looks away and mumbles something about needing to go back home, to feed his fish or something (he doesn’t have a fish), and you grab his hand just as he starts to turn away. “please, satoru, i need to know,” you breathe, squeezing his hand harder when he flinches. 

ten silent seconds tick by, but you still don’t let go. so satoru sighs, a soft white puff of air coming from his lips. “yeah.”

your heart breaks again.

“then why did you—”

“because i don’t know how to do this,” satoru says, blue eyes darting all over the place. “i love you, i really do, but i just can’t— i don’t like having thousands of people thinking that i’m only worth looking at if i’m with you, it’s annoying and it pisses me off and i don’t want to accidentally take it out on yo—”

you cut him off with a kiss, ignoring the way he yelps a little in surprise. but thankfully, he doesn’t push you away—instead, his arms instantly wrap around you and pull you closer into his warm, warm chest. satoru’s lips are a little dry, but still minty as ever from the peppermints he’s constantly munching on. he kisses you back like a man starved of affection, and when you two finally break apart, his eyes are just as hungry.

“you idiot,” you whisper, trailing your fingers through his hair as tears prick at the corner of your eyes. “you shoulda just talked to me about it first.”

“i know,” satoru mumbles, looking down bashfully. “‘m sorry.”

“you should be.” you pause, watching satoru’s lips curve into a pouty frown. “i’m sorry too,” you murmur, and he looks up, confused. “i should’ve seen this coming.”

satoru shakes his head and presses his lips to your forehead, lingering for a couple seconds before pulling back. “i missed you.”

“i was gone for less than a day, satoru.”

“oh, so you didn’t miss me?”

“i did,” you admit, exhaling a puff of air when satoru smiles smugly. “shut up, it’s not a competition!”

“yeah it is, but fine, you win,” satoru gives in with a dramatic sigh, reaching down and twining his fingers with yours. his hands, which are significantly bigger than yours, instantly warm you up. “but only ‘cause i don’t want you to break up with me next.”

“i hate you, y’know that?” you grumble, leaning into his side and letting satoru kiss the top of your head. he hums in agreement, reaching out and opening your front door. 

“i’m sure you do, baby. now c’mon, let’s get inside n’ warm up. i wanna make it up to you,” satoru says with a grin, bending over and scooping up both boxes. 

“oh, yeah? how do you plan to do that?” you challenge, going inside first and holding the door open for satoru. once he’s inside, you close the door and instantly get pinned against it by satoru, whose hands are already creeping underneath your clothes. “satoru, your hands are col—”

he cuts you off by pressing his equally cold lips to yours, smiling against your mouth as he tugs at your clothes. “i know, baby. but i’ll keep you nice n’ warm for the rest of the night, i promise!”

#osaemu #streamer!gojo #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #satoru gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo drabbles #jjk drabbles

[luvrxbunny]

so much

pairing: bf!Miguel O’Hara  x f!reader

summary: You give Miguel a handjob for the first time.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, handjob, lots of cum (lmk if i forgot anything)

wc: 2.1k

a/n: i blacked out again. 

Miguel stopped kissing you maybe fifteen minutes ago. He said he was getting too worked up and that you guys should stop, of course, you respected his wishes. You’re both now sitting in bed, he’s reading and you’re supposed to be doing some extra research but all you can focus on is the bulge in his pants. 

This happens a lot, you guys get heated and Miguel stops everything. It’s been six months and you’ve never seen him cum. You’ve told him you love him, he’s made you cum with his fingers and his mouth but you’ve never seen him cum. It doesn’t bother you too much, you just assumed he wasn’t a very sexual person, although you are and you love pleasuring your partner, you love him more. So you decided you could deal with it, but then you noticed that he would get hard, quite hard, and just not let you help him. You’ve offered many times and he always protests, saying “It’s fine, it’ll just go away.” 

Once he even went into your bathroom for it. He chose to get himself off instead of just letting you do it. You tried to ask Jess about it but she says that Miguel doesn't talk about that stuff, all she knows is that he’s definitely not a virgin. So your last option to understand is to just ask him. So you do. 

“Miggy?” His head comes up from his book to look over at you, peeking over his glasses like a librarian, making you chuckle. “Um… You- You’re—” You start the sentence but soon realize how awkward this conversation could be. You try and figure out ways to piece it together as Miguel sits up straight, closes his book, and takes his glasses off, giving you his full attention. Now that he’s straightened himself out he’s looming over you a bit, making you even more nervous. 

“You’re still… hard..?” It comes out as a question more than a statement and mumbles more than words but he understands you. He clears his throat awkwardly as you slowly close your laptop and cast it aside. “Y-yes, I am.” He’s looking around the room now, his eyes avoiding yours. 

“Okay. So do you not like handjobs or something? I just- I know that you’ve gotten something before I just don’t- I don’t know why you won’t let me.” You’re looking at him as you speak, he’s looking at the duvet, and from the corner of your eye, you swear you see his dick jump in his pants. 

“Cariño… I-” He takes a deep, slightly frustrated breath and looks up at the ceiling, trying to figure out how to explain himself. “I want to… Tan jodidamente mala but… you’re different.”

(“... So fucking bad but…”)

Insecurity spreads through your body at his words. Your mind is already racing, trying to decipher what he could mean.   

What the fuck? How am I different? Oh god, is he not even attracted to me sexually? Maybe I’m not his type. Is there something I’m missing? Maybe it’s something that he’s into, maybe I just need to get into whatever that is? Unless it really is just me that’s the problem…

“I love you so much…” The words instantly relax you. You believe him when he says it, but his tone implies that it’s a bad thing. “I’ve never felt the way I feel about you for anyone else. So-” He sighs again and runs his fingers through his hair. “So I’m- I’m more sensitive… when- when it comes to you.”

Arousal pools at the bottom of your stomach as you process his words. ‘More sensitive’

The thought that he hasn’t wanted you to touch him because it would feel too good has you leaking between your legs. 

He’s silent as you process, he’s waiting for you to laugh. But when he looks over at you you’re looking up at him with those eyes. The ones that always have him hardening in his pants before you have to say anything. The ones that he pictures on late nights when he can’t sleep. The ones that burn into his eyelids as your name falls from his lips and he cums all over his sheets… Those eyes. 

He huffs out a breath and shakes his head, denying you before you can even propose your suggestions. “No, cariño. I- It’s embarrassing.” He protests but his voice is getting breathy, arousal leaking its way in as he watches you seat yourself by his knees, facing him. Your hand is placed on his upper thigh which has begun to twitch under your touch. “We can’t, I can’t. Habría mucho también.”

“Mucho?” You question, only understanding some of what he said. “A lot, what?” You’re focused on his face, watching it contort as he whines at the Spanish that rolls off your tongue. Your hand has begun to massage his thigh, you can feel the fabric pull tighter with every pulse of his cock. Your hand slides up, closing in on where he wants you the most. His head falls back against the headrest as pleasure shoots through him. 

You can tell he’s being honest with his reasoning as you watch him. He’s letting out tiny moans, little whines like you’ve been teasing him all day but you’re just massaging his thigh. You keep it up, just groping his twitching leg as he tries to hold his moans in so he can answer you. “C-cum, habría tanto semen.” His hips start thrusting off the bed, barely noticeable.

(“C-cum. there would be so much cum.”)

“Yeah? You’d cum so much for me, Miggy?” You move from your spot, throwing your leg over him, straddling his thighs as you begin to palm his dick. His eyes roll back into his head as moans rip from his throat. He quickly grabs your wrist, roughly, stopping all your movements. His head raises to look at you. 

“I’m- I’m a bit… nervous, cariño. It would be a lot for me. I- No one has ever seen me like that. I’m only like this for you, I- can’t help it." His eyebrows furrow, and he huffs at a breath, like he's angry at himself. "I don’t want you to think it’s… extraño, anormal, or that I’m- I don’t know.” You can see the genuine concern on his face, and the fear in his voice as he anxiously rambles. 

("... strange, abnormal,")

“Miguel…” He whines at how you say his name, you smile brightly and fondly at the sound. “I love you. In a way I didn’t even know was possible. I’m never going to think you’re-  like, weird or something. At least not in a bad way. I-” You sigh gently and look into his eyes, you wrench your hand out of his grip and place it on his face, pulling him in for a soft kiss that he whimpers into. You pull away and give him the most serious look you can manage. “We don’t have to if you’re too nervous but if you’re worried about what I’ll think? Please don’t.”

He holds your gaze, considering your words for a moment. “But there’s mucho, cariño. No importa lo que yo haga. When- whenever I think of you, there’s… so much.” He tries to express his concern but you really don’t understand.

("No matter what I do.")

“Miguel.. That just- That just turns me on even more I- I don’t see why that’s a bad thing.” You speak honestly, watching his face shift into a mix of pleasure and confusion as his head falls back again. His hips press into the air, his legs spread, opening himself up for you as a pathetic “Por favor” falls from his lips. 

You spring into action immediately. You pull his pants low enough for his cock to fly out, instantly standing straight, hitting and staining his shirt. A hiss falls from his lips as you wrap your hand around him, and his head comes up to watch you. His eyes are watery as they stare at your little hand around his huge cock. You’re watching him, you don’t move yet, you can see him taking in every detail, committing the scene to memory before meeting your eyes. 

“Ready?” You ask him with a devious smile on your face. He nods vigorously, “Sí, estoy... estoy tan lista, cariño. Por favor.”

(“Yes, I'm... I'm so ready, honey. Please.”)

You run your hand up his cock, swirling around the head before meeting the base again. His reaction is instant and extreme. His hands leave your hips for the bed as his claws rip into the sheet. His body is already shaking as tense, short, and quick moans fall from his lips. All his muscles are pulled tight as you slowly run your hand over him. His eyes are wide, staring at your hands as they pleasure him. 

You’re mesmerized by his cock, red, hot, and pulsing in your hand as you stroke him. Pre-cum is spilling from his slit at a consistent pace, making him all wet and sloppy. You hear his head hit the headboard again as his moans grow more unrestrained, shouting out into the open air. “I- I-’m not- Can’t” He lets out a frustrated whine that morphs into a genuine moan before he tries to speak again. “No voy a durar. Joder, tus manos son el paraíso, cariño. No voy a durar mucho, no puedo-”

(“I’m not gonna last. Fuck, your hands are heaven, honey. I won't last long, I can't-”)

You can’t understand the words but based on how frantically he says them, the way his hips have started thrusting up into your hand gently and the way his legs are spreading themselves wider underneath you are good clues. “You’re gonna cum, Miggy?” You finally look away from his saturated cock to observe him. His face is flushed, as he nods at you desperately. He tries to moan your name at you but he can’t form the syllables. You love it. Seeing him like this, wet and aching for you. This is definitely going to become a daily thing. 

“Yeah? You promised me a lot, hermoso. I want it all. Give it to me, baby.” He fully shouts your name at the Spanish pet name. He grunts pathetically as he lifts his hand from the bed, willing his claws to retract so he can touch you. His hand squeezes your hip desperately, shaking as his moans quickly rise in pitch and volume. Your eyes are focused back on his erratically twitching cock, you don’t see his head lift to look at you.

He’s cumming the moment he can see your face. 

You stroke him as fast as you can, listening to his breathy sob as his cock shoots out heavy ropes of cum. He’s watching your face, trying to gauge your reaction through his cloudy eyes. You’re watching his cock in awe, his cum runs over your hand, coating your fist as you jerk him through it. He’s nothing but a bundle of gasps, moans, and sobs as his cock spurts out a whole new load. He watches your face as it morphs from disbelief to burning arousal, your breathing speeds up the longer he cums. He can hear whines start to slip out of you as his hips jerk into your hand. You tear your eyes away from the cum pooling around and coating his cock just in time to see his eyes shift from you to the back of his head. He lets out one last drawn-out wail before his hips rest back on the bed. His cock begins to soften, spurting out tiny ropes as you stroke him softly, helping him down. You try to get the raging fire in your stomach and the flood between your legs under control before getting up for a towel. He was right. There was so much.

You wipe him down as he whines and mumbles deliriously until you hear a little sob and he reaches out for you. You throw the towel to a corner of the room as he pulls you into his chest. He whispers what sounds like thanks and praise into your hair as you kiss his chest. 

“Gracias, cariño. Eso- eso se sintió tan bien, te sentiste tan bien. Te amo.” You giggle at him gently. “You’re welcome and I love you too, baby. You know I can’t understand most of what you said, right?” You feel his chest rumble with a chuckle before he speaks again. “I- I know, it's just… El inglés se me hace difícil. Yo olvido. I- I’m” He laughs at himself. “You get my head all mixed up, cariño.” 

(“Thank you love. That- that felt so good, you felt so good. I love you.”)

(“English is difficult for me. I forget”)

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Oh really?” You say in a playful tone as he chuckles at you. You turn and pull him in, his lips just inches from yours. “Me encanta eso.” You had to pull all your Spanish I classes together to figure that sentence out but the reward is worth it. Miguel’s eyes widen and he gasps before smashing his face into yours, you can feel his wide smile against your lips as he kisses you and you’ve never felt happier. 

(‘I love that.”)

thank you so much for reading!! please please please give any feedback you may have! I want it all! also if you liked it please take a look at my masterlist!

#miguel o’hara smut #miguel smut #miguel x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel ohara #miguel x you #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara spider man #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 miguel o'hara #2099 #sm 2099 #miguel 2099 #marvel 2099 #miguel o hara #astv miguel #miguel atsv #luvrxfics #luvrxsmut

[ranboolivesaysstuff]

IMPORTANT POST PLEASE READ

Im gonna be honest and open for a sec, and please do not take this as "oh I HATE my community or I dont like the people who watch me" but honestly as of late (and I did highlight this during the mcc bit), ive felt like I havent been able to really be in my own community simply because of the constant way that "discourse" is handled. Making vague posts and not really tackling issues in a good way, all that is going to do is just show people a big "THIS COMMUNITY BAD" sign and not actually help anything within the community, all its going to do is have the good and potentially good people leave or not join in the first place. The way that discourse is treated that ive seen has been the main reason why I have started to try to distance myself, which has been the most heartbreaking thing I have had to do. I want problems to be solved in a mature, civil way, with either a dm or a reply, not an entire vague thing that only says "bad things are happening" and doesnt elaborate on anything or barely elaboratesa and only gives people on both the inside and outside a bad sign of what the community is. Making posts whenever something happens being like "here we go again" is only going to highlight the wrong things, and actually DOESNT help the issue at all! The problems should be discussed directly with the people who are doing said problems FIRST! Bring attention to behaviors and things that arent good DIRECTLY! And also, YOU DO NOT HAVE TO!!! It is not your duty as a viewer or fan of me to be involved in any of this if you do not want to! Just enjoy the content and make silly posts! As someone who constantly tried to fix and get into every problem as it was happening, it took a huge toll on my mental health, and I want you guys to just be able to enjoy the content without having to worry about what you say about it! Be constructive! Dont make posts again just being like "wow this community is so bad" because that doesnt solve literally anything! If you have enough passion to make the posts saying "wow this community is bad" then only post about that, you are only spreading that negative message, and not uplifting anything of actual value! And if the person you are trying to help is not willing or not listening, BLOCK! MUTE! DONT BRING MORE ATTENTION TO THE PERSON IF THEY ARE NOT BEING A GOOD PART OF THE COMMUNITY!!!! I know I say that if I see problems I will call them out, but I shouldnt have to babysit every single time a thing happens within the community as that just isnt a healthy way for a creator or a community to be handled. This does not mean that I do not care about the issues or dont want them fixed, rather it shouldnt take me having to make some grand statement every single time something happens it should take only your own self reflection and self awareness. And to add onto this, make sure that every once in a while no matter who you are you think and have that self reflection, you should be open to being willing to learn and grow as a person! And again, I do NOT want anyone taking this as "Wow this community is terrible" but rather that we just have things that need to be fixed and changed and THAT IS OKAY! I do not hate the community, I care so much about it that I want it to be a silly place for my content again! I want it to be the reason why people get into what I do because of it again! And I want to be able to just have fun and relax without having to worry about how every single thing that I may say could have someone stirring things up that simply dont help or solve anything! Take care of yourselves. And this isnt coming from a place of "I hate the community as a whole" but rather again I want to be able to exist and make content that we can all enjoy without having to worry about walking on eggshells around me or around eachother! At the end of the day im just a fella that wants to make silly videos for you all, and you are people who enjoy said videos. Nothing more. Nothing less.

[fallenneziah]

Summary: You've been known to sleep around with the soldiers on base. It wasn't a secret. It also wasn't a secret that you fake most of your orgasms... Ghost takes that as a challenge.

CW: PiV, afab! Reader, uses she/her, multiple orgasms, rough sex, creampie, oral (m! receiving), overstimulation, fingering, and the reader is pretty much a barracks bunny. Not beta read... still doing smut though I can never tell if it gets better.

A/n: I really wanted to do kinktober but I was late... So um, have this??

It wasn't a secret that you were something of a barracks bunny. You caught the eye of recruits, and whoever of them made your insides tingle you were more than likely to spend a night with. You didn't care to try and keep it a secret. Although, your sexual experiences with most of the recruits and the younger men were… less than world-shaking.

They were good, their dick often leaving you mostly satisfied and feeling like you've had a five-inch stake driven into your cunt for ten to twenty minutes.

But you were also rumoured and soon confirmed to fake most of your orgasms. Sure, the hookups were fun, but you did end up faking most of your orgasms because it simply didn't do it for you.

Whether the recruit was rough or gentle, something was missing that pushed you over the edge.

But hey, you let the recruits get their load off you, so they weren't complaining either way.

Except for a certain someone.

Ghost was hardly the person you'd find sleeping around with anyone, men or women. The occasional quick fuck void of attachment and emotions back home in his small Manchester flat wasn't new though.

Once he fucked someone's brains out, they were out the door and not to set foot again. He didn't think anything of this. It's how it was, how it would continue to be.

But the constant talk of your happy little ass sleeping with every relatively attractive recruit in sight ticked something inside him.

Maybe he secretly wished he could get a hold of you, tame you down, get you down on your knees, and ensure you stayed.

Perhaps the idea of making you his bitch and getting you away from the other sources of pleasure you could find.

And then he learned about it. Little missy wandering around, getting fucked left and right, and every orgasm has to be driven out of her by herself. Something about that. About knowing you faked each orgasm with each soldier just to fuck yourself silly until it hit right.

These recruits were insufferable. None of them could drive you out of this little spiral you thought you had to control. Fuck a man, fake an orgasm and then sleep it off like nothing.

That's the challenge. That's what Ghost saw. A challenge and a reward. And he knew you'd been wanting to sleep with him for ages. He knew, and he wasn't as dimwitted as some people liked to think.

He practically bristled when he saw you walk into the canteen that afternoon, hips swinging, a small stiff in your step, but you looked mostly in one piece. Another recruit following behind you, looking on a mission to tell his squadmates of the night he had with you.

It made his hands tighten, and whiskey eyes lock on you as you walked past, seeming fine regardless of the night. His hand reached out, firmly gripping your hip so you couldn't go any further, capturing your attention.

"Lieutenant?" You asked, your eyes shifting from his large gloved hand up his forearm to meet his gaze.

"You best get yourself in check, soldier," he warned in a low tone, his hand squeezing your hip, nudging you back, his voice growing quieter.

"My barracks. Midnight."

Your cheeks went a little pink. You had the hots for the lieutenant for a lifetime. Part of you felt he would give you something you desperately needed, yet he's never spared you more than a glance.

You smirk softly. "You got it."

He doesn't respond at all. His hand releases you, and he lets you on your way.

You made it to your table, sitting among a small group you'd accumulated over your few years on base. The thought of getting in a bed with your lieutenant was now fresh on your mind, already having your stomach twisting.

However… You'd yet to meet someone truly who could make you feel how you wanted to. Roughed up, played with, fucked until your brain was smoother than a stone, and your name was a challenge to recall.

Was it that hard to ask?? You couldn't help feeling you might be sourly disappointed.

But you'd wait. Also making sure things in your room are charged just in case the night turned as you hoped it wouldn't.

The day drew on, and you continued through your tasks, finishing your work just in time to catch a shower and spend some alone time in your room as you pleased before your wristwatch beeped.

It was about time to see a certain lieutenant.

Ghost was waiting for you. How you figured he wouldn't was a wonder, but you didn't expect him to be standing there. Right there.

You slipped into the room, closing the door behind you. The lights were off, and his silhouette blocked the little light coming through the closed blinds. Your fingers search for the light switch, but his hand stops you.

Gloves still on, he pulls your wrist away, the other hand finding the lock on the door behind you and flicking it closed.

You already felt your heart rate picking up in excitement as he maneuvered through the darkness of his room, keeping you against the wall and at his whim.

"I didn't think it would start like this." You say, your back arching off the wall a tad before relaxing against when his figure pressed closer.

"Wrong of you to think you'd get a say."

His rumbled voice makes you shiver softly.

"I'm not complaining."

He seemed to scoff, pressing against you and making you suck in a sharp breath. His crotch pressing against your own, his large hands gripping your waist to hold you in place.

"Not yet."

He sounded like a predator about to sink his teeth into you, and it was such a turn-on.

His gloved hands grip your hips, lifting you from the floor and pulling your legs up around his waist. You can feel the thick outline of his cock, and it makes you gasp softly.

He takes you to the bed, dumping you onto the sheets. His hands find your clothes, pulling them from you, stripping you down to your underwear. He wasn't wasting time, your eyes adjusting and letting you see more of his figure clearly as he moved your limbs how he wanted to.

He was commanding, your body felt like putty in his hands, and you weren't sure you wanted to fight it.

Your cunt throbbed as he tugged you up the bed by your hips, crawling between your legs and forcing them apart.

His rough gloves feel foreign against your skin, tugging your underwear from your hips and tossing the thin fabric off the bed.

"Stay still." His voice rumbles through your body again. Your first thought of those scarred lips going for what they wanted. One hand kept your hips still, situating his body between your legs so you couldn't do much to fight him if you wanted to. You shiver, watching him pull his mask up over the bridge of his nose and pull his glove off between his teeth.

The second glove gets pulled off, and he lets it fall onto the bed next to you. The sound of his belt coming undone, the leather sliding against itself. His zipper came down, and he freed his cock.

You were already squirming, wanting to feel it. His large hand presses against your stomach, pushing you back down into the bed. "Easy. Keep still." His hand slides back down, your breathing stopping briefly when you felt his calloused thumb rub your clit. He was quiet, pressing up into your body, gently massaging it.

It makes you shiver, his index finger rubbing through your labia and down to your slit, tracing his fingers around your entrance. Feeling how tight you were despite your nasty habit of seeking out other men. He knows you could be so much tighter, knowing what a fucking slut you were.

Pressing his finger into your entrance, the warmth of your walls tightening around him, feeling him slip inside you. He doesn't give a warning before his second finger presses into you, both invading the warmth of your cunt. "That's it." His fingers pump into you, rubbing along your walls, rough callouses giving you a hint of edge with each stroke.

Your hands grip the sheets as he works his fingers inside you, a third slipping in as he feels the stretch of your walls. His palm rubs your clit, making you suck in a sharp breath and moan. It was a little too loud, causing Ghost to withdraw his fingers from you and grab your thigh.

He flips you over, his hand grabbing your face and shoving it into the bed. You startle a little, tensing up, but he knocks your knees apart again and forces his fingers back in, his other hand keeping your head firmly planted in the pillows. Your cunt clenches around his fingers. They work inside you quicker, pressing into your walls and driving inside you.

"Stay. I never allowed you to get loud, pretty thing." Ghost rumbles, feeling your cunt clench, dripping in excitement as his large fingers pick up pace inside your cunt.

It was almost embarrassing how quickly you were on edge. Your hands grip the sheets, hips starting to rock against his hand. Your breath comes out in small pants, muffled by the pillow. His large fingers felt so good inside you. Better than any recruit you've laid with.

You squirm, and as quickly as you do, his hand moves from your head to span your ass, cupping the perfectly round flesh and squeezing it between his fingers. His fingers pick up pace, driving deep into your cunt, fast and barely giving you time. Slick popping from his quick pace inside you. His fingers bullying your cunt, finding your g-spot and hitting relentlessly.

Your hips twitch, your back arching, and you can't help but moan loudly when you hit that first orgasm.

Ghost smirks, the scar along his lip pulling the skin up slightly. He pulls his fingers out, drawing them apart to see your slick and spend ripping between them. Your body shivering a little. "One." He counts, tasting your cum on his fingers.

He turns you onto your back, leaning over your body and pressing his lips to yours, shoving his tongue in your mouth. The taste of your cum and his saliva made your head spin, your hands gripping the front of his shirt as he kisses you.

You moan into his mouth as his hand slides between your legs, cupping your cunt and rubbing your clit. Your hips jump a little, his rough palm pressed against your lower pelvis, his fingers teasing along your slick cunt.

He nips your bottom lip, pushing you away before the kiss can properly end and keeps you held down in the sheets, his hand curling around your throat while the other continues to rub through your labia. Teasing your clit, rubbing it and pinching it. "Cumming for me already…" Ghost rumbled. "Just like I knew you would."

"I'm not done with you yet."

You moan, your head pressing back into the sheets as you start to rock your hips. Trying to feel more of his rough fingers, wanting his fingers back inside you.

"Beg." His tone is firm, and commanding. You look up at him through half-lidded eyes.

"Please," you moan, watching him grin and press his fingers against your hole.

"Please, what?"

You squirm, pressing your hips into his fingers. "Please fuck me with your fingers."

You could swear he was mocking you, slowly pushing his fingers back into your cunt.

"You can do better than that," Ghost taunts.

You whimper, trying to nudge your hips back, and you feel his fingers pull away. He forces your thigh further out again, teasing your clit with his thumb. You mumble under your breath, trying to lean away, his fingers stroking along your slit again.

"Please… I need them. I need this, please." You whine, once again trying not to squirm with your desperation growing in place of your excitement.

His fingers press back into your cunt, and you moan. Your hips jolt, rolling against his hand as he drives his fingers into your cunt, hitting deep inside you. "Fuck. Fuck, I- ah-"

He doesn't hold you down like before, allowing your hips to move, fucking his fingers, your slick making obscene sounds.

Your lips part, moaning over his hand, still firm on your throat, fingers pulling you apart. Driving into you, his eyes watching your face in the darkness with each desperate thrust up into his fingers. Looking like a pathetic whore. But that's how Ghost wanted you.

That's how he liked it. He would ruin you. He'd show those recruits how it was done, and cut you down a peg. He'd get you so overfucked you'd only be able to remember his name.

His fingers bullying your g-spot, knuckles coated in your slick, the walls of your cunt flexing around him. Once again, before long, he had you drawn out, moaning loudly.

He pulls his fingers out of you, the sticky string slick between his fingers as he pulls them apart. "Two," he counts, watching you pant, hips squirming and thighs quivering.

Ghost leans down, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him. His fingers press to your lips, pushing them past. You groan, sucking on his fingers, tasting you on his hand. Sucking them and running your tongue along them until he pulled out, lightly slapping your face. His other hand released your throat.

He moved back on the bed, planting his feet back on the floor and pushing down his jeans over his thighs more, taking his large cock in his hand.

"Hands and knees, sweetheart."

You panted, knees still quivering, but you shifted onto your stomach, onto your hands and knees. Looking up at him, smirking. The smirk didn't bother Ghost, he already had you under him. He was already the first way through ruining you, so many would never really pleasure you again like he did.

Tapping his cock against your cheek, letting you feel the weight and the size against you.

"Open," he orders, watching you part your lips and lean forward to take the head between your lips. Your tongue runs across it, eyes shut.

He gripped your hair, yanking you forward and forcing you to take half his cock down your throat. Gagging on it tears stinging the corners of your eyes as he forced you further down, fucking your mouth.

"If you're gonna suck it, do it like you mean it." He spits, driving his cock into your throat, hearing your desperate noises, trying to draw in the air over his cock suffocating your throat. Feeling the smooth skin of his heavy cock against your tongue. The skin pulls back over his head along your tongue.

You could feel him, his cock dragging deep into your warm throat and then pulling out, giving you a much steadier rhythm for redemption.

He didn't give you a chance to take control, keeping his grip firm on your hair and driving himself into your throat.

You gag around him, feeling the burn in the back of your throat, eyes watering as he keeps you there, your lips stretching around his thick shaft, spit leaking from the corners of your lips.

The heaviness of his cock on your tongue, salty pre-cum pooling at the back of your throat, tongue gliding over throbbing cockhead.

Ghost pulls his cock from your mouth, slapping your cheek with it and then forcing it back between your lips. He pulls your head back, pressing his cock back into your throat, his balls slapping your chin as he fucks your throat.

The sting in your eyes and the way your lungs burned made your head spin. You could feel your cunt dripping, wanting to feel him inside you.

He didn't let you keep it that steady.

Your head bobbed along his cock, spit coating his length and slicking up your cheeks, the sound of him fucking your mouth. It's what he wanted, making you choke and gag on his cock.

It let you know who was in control. Not you. You wouldn't have one ounce of control.

You were desperate to try and keep up with his rough pace, his hips snapping into your mouth. You moaned around him, looking up at him. His hand tightened in your hair, keeping your head still while he fucked your mouth, groaning under his breath.

He pulled out, holding you firmly in place so you couldn't chase his cock.

"On your back. Now."

You do as he says, turning onto your back and spreading your legs.

Ghost pushes his jeans down further, grabbing your legs and tugging them around his waist. His hand presses against your lower stomach, pushing you down into the bed while his other hand grips the base of his cock.

You whimper, trying to keep your eyes on him and watch him as he strokes his cock, keeping you in place. You attempt to squirm, but he keeps you still, ordering you to stay quiet. He drags his cock through your soaked cunt, pre-cum slathering across your clit and dripping down into the mess of your cunt.

"Lieutenant, please," you whimper, hips trying to press up, and he pushes you back down.

"Please what?" Ghost asks, smirking down at you. He was so in control here, you were the one under him. You were the one who was going to get fucked tonight.

"Please, I need you inside me."

"Mmm, you're such a slut… bet you'd take any cock, wouldn't you sweetheart?" His cock smacks against your clit, making your hips jump a little.

"Just yours."

He smirked. "That's what I like to hear."

He pushed forward, slowly pushing the head of his cock inside you. Your breath catches in your throat, back arching, trying to force more of him into you. He presses his palm into your lower stomach, pushing you back into the mattress. His cock gradually slides inside you, stretching you more, feeling the tightness of your cunt trying to handle a size it wasn't used to.

His hips press forward, feeding his cock into your cunt and stretching you out so nicely. You felt so good around him. Tight, warm, clenching at the size of his cock.

"That's it, such a good girl."

He starts a slow pace, driving his cock in and out of your cunt. Making you feel him, feel every inch of his cock. His hand moves from your stomach, finding your clit and rubbing it roughly. It was too much, the sensations making you moan loudly.

"Shhh, quiet. You don't get to do that," Ghost orders.

You whimper, nodding your head and trying to lean your head back into the pillow. His cock plunges into you harder.

"Do I need to gag you again, sweetheart?"

He gripped your hair and pulled your head back harshly to look back at him. His hips snapped forward, thrusting his cock deep into your cunt.

"N-no. I won't." You say.

His grip loosens, but he continues to fuck you, hips snapping forward suddenly. Your thighs squeeze either side of his hips, heels digging into the skin of his ass as he lifts your hips with his cock.

"Mmm, I think it's more you don't want to." Ghost says.

You whimper, nodding your head. You wanted to be a good girl for him. You want to be quiet for him. But it was almost impossible as he fucked your brain out.

"You're so wet for me, so tight. I bet you cum just from thinking about me, don't you?"

You nod your head, moaning and biting your lip to try and stifle your noises.

His hands grip your waist, pulling you down into his cock and making you take it all.

Your pussy throbs around his cock, his thickness, utterly wrecking your cunt. His cock bullying your insides, finding your g-spot and making you come undone again, orgasming around his cock.

Ghost pulls his cock out, watching you squirm and moan loudly. "Three." He counts. He flips you back over, firmly pressing his hand into your hip.

He leans over you, shoving your face into the pillow and spanking your ass. "I thought I told you to be quiet."

He pushes his cock back inside you, gripping your hips and holding you still as he fucks you.

"One was for being a good girl."

You yelp as he slaps your ass again.

"Two was for being a slut."

You whimper, tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

He keeps his hand pressed into your hips and keeps your ass upturned. His hips snap forward, driving his cock deep inside your cunt.

"And three will be for never listening to me. Because you're a bad girl. My bad girl."

His cock smacks against you when he pulls out, making you moan loudly. His hand moved from your hip, jerking your chin up and forcing you to look into his eyes.

"What are you?" He asks, cock slamming back into you.

"I'm a bad girl," you mewl out.

"That's right, baby," He says, leaning down and biting your neck. You cry out, moaning loudly. His hand grabbed your hair, tugging your head back and holding your neck.

"Mine." Ghost growls into your ear.

He slams his cock deep inside you, making you moan loudly. Your pussy clenched around him, gripping his cock tightly. He grunted, his hips thrusting forward and slamming his cock into you.

You cry out in pleasure, yet want it to stop.

He smirks widely. "Look at you…" He chuckles, leaning into your ear. "Like this for me… just like this… like a slut."

You moan loudly, your cunt throbbing around his cock. Your hands grip the sheets tightly, trying to keep yourself steady as he fucks you.

"Such a good girl…" He groans, his voice husky and breathless. "Such a good slut."

You shiver, nodding your head.

Ghost pushes your body down into the bed, lifting your ass further and continuing to fuck you. His fingers grip your ass tightly, his nails digging into your skin. "Do you like this? Getting fucked by your lieutenant?" He asks, his hand moving to your lower back, pushing you down further. "Fuck, who am I kidding… I know you do."

You whimper pitifully. You were so close again.

Ghost slaps your ass again, smirking. "I like it when you're a slut for me. What about you, baby?"

You whimper, nodding your head. "I like being your slut."

"I think you do, sweetheart…" He says.

You nod your head, moaning and whimpering in excitement. Ghost smirks, giving your ass a hard slap. "Beg for it…"

You whimpered. "Please- please fuck-" You say, moaning out.

"Keep begging…" He says, pulling out. He pulls your hips up, making you kneel up on the bed. He pushes your chest down, causing your ass to stick up in the air, exposed and ready for his cock. He spanks your ass, making you yelp.

"I bet you'd like to be fucked by me all day, wouldn't you? Be my little cock-sleeve." He says, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

He slaps your ass again, spanking you.

You whimper, trying to plead with him.

He grips your hips, slamming into you hard. His cock drives inside you, wrecking your cunt and filling you. His fingers dig into your hips and ass, holding you still as he fucks you.

He pulls you up, pushing his cock deep inside you and making you cry. He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you back into him.

"Oh god," you moan, your head leaning back into his shoulder.

"Fuck, you feel so good, baby…" Ghost groans.

"Please," you cry out. "N-no more…" The overstimulation to your pussy was too much.

His hips snap hard against you, his cock thrusting into you hard.

He pulls you back up, making you sit up on his lap. He leans you back against his chest, his hand moving to your hip. He registers your cry of pleasure as his cock thrusts into you again and again, his hips snapping forward.

He reaches around you, finding your clit and rubbing it roughly. You moan loudly, leaning back against him.

Ghost leans down and nibbles at your neck.

You feel his cock swell inside you, pulsing and throbbing inside you. He could feel his undoing soon. He bites down on your shoulder, making you cry out in pleasure. He thrusts his cock into you, hitting deep inside you and making your toes curl.

He grabs your hips, pulling them down and burying his cock deep inside you. He feels his cock throb and swell, filling your cunt with his seed.

He grunts loudly, holding you down against his cock as he rides out his orgasm. You moan, gripping his shoulders and pushing back against him.

"Mmm… that's it sweetheart… take all of it… cum for me…" Ghost moans.

His cock throbs inside you, spurting his load into your cunt. You moan loudly, feeling your release. Your legs tremble, thighs shaking as you cum around his cock. One last time before your body felt completely boneless, the dry orgasm pumping around the load of seed filling you deep, swelling in your cunt. Ghost pants, holding you up against him as he breathes heavily, your body limp in his arms. He kisses your shoulder softly, rubbing your belly.

"That was… mmm…" Ghost says, licking his lips and kissing your neck. "So good…"

You pant softly, leaning your head back and looking up at him. "I'm tired."

He chuckles lightly. "Go ahead and sleep… I'll clean you up."

"Okay." You smile a little. He helps you lie down on the bed, pulling his softening cock from your cunt. You feel the warm mess seep from you, coating your thighs and making you shiver.

#writing #cod smut #simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #call of duty smut #kinktober i guess?? #kinktober

[lollixp0p]

The Video (18+)

Pairing: Best friend!Hwang Hyunjin x afab!reader

Genre: Smut (MDNI), bit of feelings

Word count: just under 3k!

Warnings: Idol!au, subby!Hyunjin, slightly perv!reader, recording, (maybe a bit dub con because he doesn't mean to send it but reader watches it anyway), mommy kink, masturbation (both but separately), Hyunjin fantasizes about reader, reader fantasizes about Hyunjin, lmk if I missed anything!!

Summary: Hyunjin finally gets some alone time after weeks of hard work and decides to use his time to... relax. The next day he ends up sending you something on accident that sets off a big change in your lives, with or without either of you really realising.

Note: My first ever fic!! :3 Inspired by a video I saw on phub. (@cbini (Ems isn't on Tumblr rn she still wanted to be tagged so I hope it's ok), @comet-falls, @hyunsvngs, @mnwrld and @skz-hell lmao hello everyone, writing blog reveal!!😁 here's this fic I've mention to all of you as an anon<3 (depending on who you are I'm either ❄️anon, 🐾anon or sounding anon😳)). To anyone reading this please give me literally any feedback (comment, reblog, anything!), I want to know if this is good or not since it's my first fic🙏😣

Please do not under any circumstance copy, translate, or repost my works!

It's been exactly three weeks since Hyunjin's had any time for just himself, though it feels like months at this point.

Recently everyone's been running around like headless chickens and between vocal trainings, dance practices and the studio, there hasn't been much time to just relax and recharge. Preparing for a new album really is the busiest time of an idols life.

There hasn't even been time to see family or friends, which is common during busy spells like this, but always dissapointing to think about. Now even more so, with how much he's been wishing to spend time with you, one of his closest friends... who also happens to be his crush. Not that he'd ever let you know though, not in a very long time.

It feels almost like a blessing, getting back to the dorms from practice late in the evening and realising... he's got the place all for himself, at least until his roommates get back from the studio.

Changbin had messaged him earlier, telling him that they'd probably be there well past midnight, so there was no use waiting up for them. To him though, this was the very opposite of an issue. With that much free time, he'd definitely be able to... make himself comfortable, so to speak.

See, not having time to relax also means he'd basically had no time to get off. The best he'd been able to do had been quick little sessions barely once a week in the shower right before passing out on his bed from the exhaustion of working hard.

The realisation that he'd be able to do anything he wants during his time alone is enough to get his dick twitching in his jeans and he decides the shower can wait until later.

Hyunjin goes to his room and locks the door after himself even though he's alone, it's just become a habit after so many years living with his members. He sets his bag down next to his bed and thinks through his plan.

Hyunjin has a little secret, which is that he loves recording himself do dirty things that range from more vanilla to much less vanilla. Something about the thrill of being recorded even if no one will ever see it just... makes him so fucking horny.

He opens the camera of his phone, puts it to video mode and presses record. Moving his hand off the lense and setting it down where he normally sets it, on the carefully placed pile of books on his desk, he sits down on his bed.

"Hmm... I hope the angle's good... It's been so long since I've had time for this", Hyunjin sighs with a pout and brushes his hair out of his eyes. He knows the camera won't see it though because he's made sure the stand, his pile of books, is at a level that cuts off his head perfectly.

Hyunjins hands run down his body slowly and he exhales deeply, just loud enough to get picked up by his phone. Once they reach his jeans he unbuttons them, unzips the zipper, then pulls the jeans down just enough to expose his underwear. Hyunjin pulls his shirt up over his stomach to be held in place under his chin, rubs his hand over his bulge and hums.

It's been so long since the last time he's been able to take his time making himself feel good. It's almost embarrassing how quickly he's getting hard.

He takes his dick out his boxers and then spits on the palm of his right hand. It's dirty and wet but it just turns him on even more. He grabs his dick with the hand and slowly moves his fist up and down, to spread the saliva and precum all over his dick to make the slide easier and wetter but to also get himself to full hardness.

"A-ah, ohh... that's so good... Feels-fuck, feels so good", Hyunjin sighs. It really won't take him too long to cum, he just knows it. He's been pent up for far too long.

He tries to think of something to help his issue and immediately thinks of you, no matter how embarrassed or dirty it makes him feel.

When you first started showing up in the dirtiest corners of his mind he felt so ashamed. Now it doesn't matter to him anymore. You'll never find out so why feel bad?

He continues to move his hand on his dick while thinking of you. The last time the two of you had time to hang out together you'd worn the lowest cut shirt he'd ever seen on you. He had tried so hard to act normal around you but whenever you bent down he'd been able to see into your shirt.

"Haah, fuck..." , he squeezes himself a little harder at the memory. Everytime you moved he could see your bra poking out from the top, black and lacy. The entire time he'd been doing his best to not bust in his pants. Oh, what he'd give to be able to see your tits. They always looked so soft and they'd probably fit perfectly into his palms.

Whenever the both of you would hang out at yours, watching movies and just hanging out, you never bothered to wear a bra. Why would you? It is your house where you want to be as comfortable as possible.

The feeling of laying down on your couch watching a movie with you on top of him, in just a t-shirt, will end up driving him mad one day. Everytime he'd felt your nipples poking into him he'd almost moaned out loud.

"Hngh... Oh my god, please... m-mommy!", he lets out pathetically, moving his fist faster. God he just wants you to use him, to do anything you want to him. The thought makes him whine desperately.

One of the most common fantasies for him is you on top of him using him to get off, not caring about if he's close or not. You'd sit on his face and ride it until you cum. He could probably cum untouched like that. All he'd need was tasting you and seeing you cum, just for him.

All the sudden he remembers the phone recording him and he shudders. He imagines what your reaction would be to seeing him like this. Would you be disgusted or delighted? Would you tell him what to do and how to touch himself? Maybe you'd touch him... He hopes you would.

"Mommy... please touch me, aah- oh!", he runs his thumb over the head of his cock just right and his thighs twitch but he keeps them open, in perfect view to the camera.

Throwing his head back he imagines you riding him. You'd be so tight and wet around him. Maybe you'd tie his hands behind his back so he wouldn't be able to touch you... he'd really like that. You'd feel godly around him, Hyunjin thinks.

"Fuck, oh fuck! Mommy I'm-haah, I'm so close, please!", his dick twitches desperately. You're so gorgeous, to him you're the sexiest person he's ever seen. He feels himself getting so close that tears spring to his eyes.

"Ah- 'm gonna... mommy, gonna cum...!", he whines out long and loud. It takes Hyunjin two more strokes to let go and he cums the hardest he's cum in weeks. He doesn't even register whispering your name. Hyunjin leans back on his left hand and keeps stroking himself through it.

The feeling is overwhelming, so much so that his thighs start twitching pathetically and the tears in the corners of his eyes fall. He's getting incredibly overstimulated but he keeps going, wanting to keep enjoying the feeling, just a bit more.

He squeezes himself one last time and suddenly everything on him feels gross and dirty. He's just had the best orgasm in weeks so it's no surprise that he came a lot, everywhere. He even managed to get some on his chin.

"Fuuck... Did you-haah... did you enjoy that?", he chuckles to the phone. It takes a while for him to come down from the high, the twitchiness and the feeling of euphoria lingering in his body. Once he's capable of standing up again he stops the video.

With his body feeling like jelly, he takes off all his clothes, drops them into his hamper and prepares to shower, at last.

Hyunjin wakes up to his alarm the next day feeling more refreshed than he's felt in weeks. He shuts off the still ringing alarm and quickly gets up from his bed to get dressed and go eat breakfast.

Checking the calendar on his phone to make sure he knows his schedule for today, he makes a note of one thing; he'd have a lot of time alone at the dorms today too, since he's only got a dance practice and a recording session today, which obviously means 3racha will stay behind to stress about their songs while Hyunjin can return early. Maybe this time he should continue the latest piece of art he's been working on after he gets back?

Hyunjin gets through the day well enough.

After eating breakfast he messages you a "Good morning pretty <3 please remember to drink water!" like every morning when he has time for it. He gets to the practice room only five minutes late, which is a record this early in the morning, because usually he ends up sleeping in at least ten minutes (which makes Chan scold him for being such a heavy sleeper).

He does well at practice, even though he ends up a little exhausted. That's nothing new though, with how hard they always work to be the best they can be.

The rest of the members leave to take a break but Hyunjin decides to stay behind to film the solo choreography he's been working on for fun. Once he's happy with how it's turned out, it's time for him to go record his lines.

The recording session goes smoothly, without hundreds of retakes and everyone's satisfied with the result. Afterwards they decide to order some take-out, as a reward for a job well done... and also because they're all feeling too lazy to even think about going to the dorms to cook.

While eating Hyunjin finally realises to check his phone again. "Good morning, take care of yourself too!! :)" is your response to what he sent earlier. It's nothing more than a kind response but it makes him grin to himself like the fool in love he is.

"Yaaah!! Hyunjinnieee, what's making you smile so beautifully?", Changbin leans towards him with his signature flirting-with-Hyunjin grin, mouth half full of rice.

"It's nothing," Hyunjin responds back to him cheeks red, "and don't talk with your mouth full hyung... Do you not have any respect?"

Changbin decides to drop it in favor of eating more delicious food.

"Oh come on... we wanna know!!", Han pouts at him from his seat on the couch in the room. Hyunjin shoves another mouthful of food in his mouth to avoid the embarrassement of explaining how a single text messaged from you manages to make his heart beat out of his chest.

Once Hyunjin's done eating he's free to go back to the dorms and just like he suspected the rest of his dormmates stay behind to work some more, although they all whine at him to stay to explain the previous mystery. He declines and they all keep their sad puppydog eyes on him until he's out the door.

He keeps texting you during his ride, all the way to the dorms. Once he's in his room Hyunjin decides to just change into some clean clothes. He's too excited to talk to you and get to painting, he can wash up later.

He lays in his bed to keep texting you and at some point your conversation changes from how your day's been going to talking about dancing and he mentions how he just today filmed a new choreography bit he's made for fun.

❣️:

Can I see what you've been working on? :)

I'm sure it's really good, you always are!!

Jinnie:

Well... since you asked so nicely😉

[video sent]

Quickly sending the video Hyunjin exits out the messaging app, feeling so giddy he can't help but squirm around on his bed. He still can't believe someone like you could be interested in seeing him dance.

It might seem like a small thing for most but he feels himself turning red just thinking about the way you look at him while he talks about something so important to him. It makes the butterflies in his stomach every time you're near go crazy. It's so attentive, like you actually care and are interested in his interests... and maybe even...?

'No' , he thinks to himself. There's probably no way you could ever actually be interested in him, not in the same way he's interested in you at least.

He leaves his phone charging and finally gets out of bed to go to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. He'd need it if he wanted to stay up late to work on his newest art piece.

Hearing the familiar 'ping' notification of receiving a message makes you open your phone again and just like you thought, Hyunjin had sent you the video of his latest masterpiece of a choreography. Not waiting a second you press the video just to see.... Hyunjin take his hand off the camera and set the phone down on the desk in his room he draws on. He sits down on the edge of his bed and says something, you aren't really sure what, because the volume's too low. In confusion you turn it up more.

Hyunjin sighs and reaches up to move his hair out his face, probably. You can't see it though, because the camera cuts his face perfectly off frame. Suddenly his hands run down his body to the button on his jeans. He opens it and starts undoing the zipper next. You just look at the video in shock. 'He isn't about to... to take them off is he?', you think to yourself, just as he pulls the jeans down enough to expose his white boxers and then palms his bulge.

Should you stop watching? Keep watching? How long has it even been playing? How long does it keep playing? While you wonder this you almost miss Hyunjin pull his hard dick out of his underwear and spit on his palm and... Oh God...

You've now done something you can never take back. The downright sinful view of his cock is something you don't think you're ever going to be able to forget. How do you even face him after this? After watching him grasp his dick in his hand and pump it a couple of times to spread the spit and precum around.

You exit the video, panting and absolutely soaking through your underwear. Your other hand rushes to your face to feel your cheeks. They're burning and feel like you've been standing out in the sun for hours, when in reality all you've done is accidentally watch your best friend play with himself.

You struggle to decide what to do with the video and in the end save the video without much thinking, then delete the message of it and decide to notify him of his mistake. As long as he doesn't know you saved it, it should be fine, right?

It takes Hyunjin less than 10 minutes to make and get the coffee. He returns to his room humming the tune of a song he's had on repeat recently. Setting the coffee down on the desk and taking his phone off from the charger he notices new messages from you.

❣️:

Uhm...😕

Hyunjin, I don't think you meant to send that.

He looks at his screen confused. What did you mean by that? He...

Oh God.

Did he send the wrong video?

Frantically opening the video he sent earlier he sees himself, in video, move his hand off the phone camera and set it down the desk near his bed and sit down. Oh no...

"Hmm... I hope the angle's good... It's been so long since I've had time for this", video Hyunjin sighs and reaches up to move his hair from his eyes. His head may be out of frame but he clearly remembers pouting while saying this. He watches himself slowly unbutton and unzip his pants, adjusting them so that his boxers are clearly visible in frame. In the video his hand drifts towards his crotch slowly, teasingly.

He quickly exits the video and promptly shoves his head under his pillow and yells. He'd accidentally sent the wrong video while hurrying to get a cup of coffee. How could he have messed up this bad? In his panic, it takes him a moment to respond.

Jinnie:

Oh god

I'm so sorry!!

Please don't watch that!

❣️:

Don't worry!!!

I stopped watching the moment you started unzipping your pants😖

I saw nothing, promise!🙏 It's been deleted already!! 

Little does he know though, you'd kept the video. You're not really sure why, but subconciously your brain keeps screaming' to finish it later, of course'.

...

Fuck it, you don't think you can wait until later.

Taking a deep breath, you open your gallery to find the video he sent you. You hesitate for a second but press play anyway. You can feel how you're already soaking through your underwear but pay no mind to it yet.

You watch him do the things you've seen already, all the way until he spits in his hand... and you pause the video. 'Is it right to watch this? I mean, he didn't mean to even send it...', you think to yourself.

But the thought of seeing him touch himself, to hear him make the sweetest noises you could ever in your wildest dreams imagine him making drives you on.

Pressing play again you dip your fingers into your pants. You rub yourself over your underwear and oh my god... you can't believe the wetness you feel after less than a minute of watching the video. You focus on the phone you're holding in your other hand and finally move your fingers into your underwear to directly touch your pussy.

On your screen you see Hyunjin start to stroke himself faster, the head of his dick a dark pink, you can feel his desperation through the screen. Without thinking you move your fingers to your clit and start rubbing it in circles, aided by the wetness of your leaking pussy.

He moans out loud and even though you can't hear it through the fog in your head, you know he's desperate. You move your fingers down to your hole and dip two of them in. You're so wet you barely need to even stretch yourself out and then he does it.

"Hngh... Oh my god, please... m-mommy!"

You push your fingers deeper and your pussy lets out he lewdest squelch which in turn makes you close your eyes desperately in pleasure. 'Mommy? When he masturbates he calls out for mommy??', the thought makes you lose your mind. You think about what it would be like if he called you mommy in the throes of pleasure.

You want to make him follow every command you give him. The way he'd look up at you on his knees with you standing above him. Maybe you could make him suck on a strap? He'd look so ridiculously delicious with his mouth full, drool dripping down his cheeks.

You add another finger and start rubbing at your clit with your thumb at the same time. The feeling makes you whimper and imagine his hands on you, teaching him how to touch you perfectly. You're getting so close and you remember to focus your screen again.

Hyunjin looks absolutely disheveled. His dick is red and throbbing, you can tell he's getting close. His voice is another thing that gives him away. He's whiny and his voice keeps cracking every time he opens his mouth. Hyunjin bucks into his hand and moans.

"... mommy, gonna cum...!", he strokes himself twice more and then finally cums. You're so close it's maddening. All the sudden you hear him... whisper your name?

It makes you go off the edge and your entire body clenches and seizes while you silently cry out from all the pleasure you're feeling. Your walls suck in your fingers with how you're clenching around them. On the screen Hyunjin twitches violently, working himself through the end of his orgasm.

You pull your fingers out of yourself and slump down on your bed exhausted, but the last 20 seconds of the video that's now over haunts you. Did you hear him right?

You gather strength to pick up your phone again and rewind the video to the part where he cums and turn the volume almost all the way up. Admittedly you end up fixating on the way his dick looks and face twists in pleasure when he cums and then he says, or more like whisper your name. Your brain blanks.

"Fuuck... Did you-haah... did you enjoy that?", he chuckles to the phone, sits in place for a bit to properly come down and then gets up to stop the video.

You're wet, confused and you can feel your heart beat out of your chest. What do you do now? How can you ever face him normally after that... Does he feel the same way you do? Is he sure he didn't mean to send it?

It's all too much to think about, so you decide that instead of thinking about it you'll clean yourself up and... crawl into a hole where no one will ever find you. Probably. The only thing you know for sure is you definitely won't be sleeping tonight.

© lollixp0p 2024 | please do not under any circumstance copy, translate, or repost my works

#cupid♡writing #sub!idol #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #skz x reader #skz smut #hwang hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin smut #dividers by cafekitsune

[kiss-inthekitchen]

no vacancy | spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader

set sometime in early s2; you get stuck sharing a room with your favorite boy genius who absolutely cannot know that you have feelings for him. and also, there’s only one bed. fluff, f!reader (i think there's only two usages of gender markers)

word count: 4.7k

notes: this is a rework of a very old fic i used to have up on ao3. i'm thinking i'll do more of these, i've got a few spencer fics in the vault and it was fun to rework this and see how my style has changed :)

You shivered against the cold desert air. Twirling a keyring around your finger, you headed for the door marked 3. You were exhausted from the day and so, so ready to collapse into bed as soon as you got inside your room. 

You turned the key in the lock while Spencer waited behind you. It was late, and you and the team had pulled into a motel for the night, having been dragged out to a tiny rural town by the unsub after days of tracking him through surrounding areas. He’d been apprehended, finally, and handed over to local police around midnight. You all had decided it best to spend the night before driving back into town in the morning for take off. 

So here you were, at one of those single story motels that still used actual keys instead of key cards. Given the time of night, you knew vacancies would be scarce, so you’d already expected to have to double up on rooms. Gideon had stayed behind at Quantico, leaving Hotch and Morgan in one room and JJ and Prentiss in another, with you and Spencer sharing the last room. You’d hung back while JJ got everything figured out with the concierge (who was just a bored looking kid posted at the desk), and then she’d passed you your key with its little keyring attachment listing the room number and you all bade each other goodnight.

You’d been on the team nearly a year already, but you were still the rookie compared to everyone else. Even Spence had two years on you. But seeing as you two were the youngest, and the least inclined toward the more physical parts of your job– the chasing, tackling, firing your weapon parts– you were paired off with him more often than not. 

You weren’t complaining. You’d come to know Spencer pretty well, and you didn’t feel much apprehension at the thought of sharing a room with him for one night. 

That is, until you opened the door. 

“Oh,” you said involuntarily.  

"There's only one bed,” Spencer said. 

“Sure looks that way.” 

"At least it's a queen?" 

There was a brief pause before you both started speaking at the same time. 

"Maybe we can go back to the concierge–" Spencer began. 

"I mean, I guess I don't really–" 

"–although, JJ did say we got the last–" 

"–mind as long as you–" 

You cut yourself off this time. It’s not like there was another good option, unless one of you wanted to sleep in the car. "This is fine?" it came out as a question rather than a statement. 

"I think so? I wouldn't want to– to make you uncomfortable or anything."

"This is fine," you repeated, more sure of yourself this time. “And you don’t make me uncomfortable.”  

It was only kind of a lie. You trusted Spencer with your life, of course. But he also made you nervous. He was sweet, kind, always seeming genuinely interested in anything you had to say. And of course, anyone could see that he was attractive. You were developing feelings for him, and in a job where your coworkers and your crush himself were all adept at reading people, it really wasn’t a good position for you to be in. You just hoped Spencer was as oblivious with women as Derek made him out to be. 

"We should get out of the doorway," Spencer suggested, and you realized you'd been standing in the threshold this whole time.

"Right."

The two of you walked in, Spencer closing and locking the door behind you. It was a modest room in a tiny town; your standard ugly-patterned, faded bedspread draped over the queen bed in the center, a window looking out into the parking lot, and a dresser that didn’t even have a TV on top of it. You headed straight for the bed, sitting on the edge and removing your shoes while Spencer stood by with his hands in his pockets.

"You know, if it's a problem I can sleep on the cou– uh, the chair," Spencer offered, looking back mid-sentence and realizing that the only additional furniture this motel offered was one rigid looking armchair by the window. 

"No, you're not doing that."

"What?" he asked, taken aback by the quickness of your response.

"You're not sleeping in that chair. It looks horribly uncomfortable and I’m sure it’s never been cleaned, and I know how you’d feel about that.” 

Spencer grimaced, not having thought about that particular detail. “Yeah, but, I mean… I’d do it for you.” 

God, why did he have to say stuff like that? Like you were something special. And why now, when you were stuck in the same room with him until morning? It probably didn’t even mean the same thing to him as it meant to you. He was one of the most caring people you’d ever met. He’d probably say that to any one of you on the team. 

Or maybe sleeping in a chair meant nothing to him at all. Maybe he actually didn’t want to share the bed with you and that’s why he was trying so hard to avoid it. 

Ugh. You just wanted this day to be over. It was late, the case had been a week long, and now you were probably in for a fun night of overthinking and second guessing when you’d been expecting silence and easy, dreamless sleep. 

Okay, maybe that last part was never really an option, but still. 

“Look,” you sighed, “I know this isn't an ideal situation but there's a perfectly good bed here, so let’s just share it. If you’re okay with that. It's just one night and tomorrow we'll be back home and nobody has to know about it."

You had to fight from squeezing your eyes shut in regret. You wished that had come out differently. You chanced a look at Spencer, realizing that you’d been staring down at the faded carpet pattern while you spoke. 

The look on his face was one you hadn’t seen before, and you almost couldn't place it. He seemed sort of disappointed. Disappointed that he had to share a bed with you? Or that you'd made it sound like you didn't want to share a bed with him? Nope, you could not go down that road tonight. You shook your head once as if it would clear the thoughts from your tired mind. 

“I’m okay with that," he said, casually enough that you could almost convince yourself that you’d just imagined the look on his face before. "So, do you want the shower first, or...?" Spencer asked.

"No, I can wait, you go ahead," you said. You desperately needed the moment to yourself anyway.  

You started rifling through your bag for pajamas, toiletries, and your charger as an excuse to look busy while Spencer made his way into the bathroom with his things. As soon as the door closed behind him, you flopped back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as if it might hold all the answers. 

Spencer couldn't know about your feelings. For one thing, you were pretty sure there was a rule against dating your colleagues in the BAU. If not, there probably should be. You were such a close knit team, and if anything went wrong… you couldn’t imagine how difficult that would be. But then, the evil and uncooperative part of you also couldn’t help but think that things might go right. 

From the beginning of your time at the BAU, you’d been drawn to Spencer. It just kind of made sense. You’d gotten through school at an accelerated pace– though not as quickly as him, the man was on another fucking level when it came to academics– and you were one of the only people who found his fact dropping actually interesting, often asking him follow up questions. He’d looked adorably shocked the first few times you’d done that. 

He listened intently to your passionate rants about your favorite films and tv shows, even though he hadn’t seen any of them. When the two of you had discovered a shared interest in mythology and folklore, Hotch nearly had to separate you so you would actually get some work done. It was like you were a kid in school again, and you might’ve been embarrassed if you didn’t find it so funny, if you weren’t so giddy at the idea of a friendship that could make you feel like a kid again. 

Spencer understood you in a way that other people didn’t, laughing at your jokes even when they didn’t land for anybody else. When people interrupted or spoke over you, he always paid attention, and in situations where you were trying to add details to the profile he’d bring the conversation back around to you. 

Throughout your life you’d learned– through painstaking trial and error– to fit in pretty well in most any group you found yourself in, but you’d always considered yourself to be a little weird. A little too different. But when you were with Spencer, you felt like you didn’t have to try so hard. You could both be a little different, together. 

Spencer opened the bathroom door then, startling you. You’d been so lost in thought you hadn’t even noticed the water turn off. You looked over to see him wearing a loose white t-shirt and pajama pants, his hair still damp. And now you knew what Spencer looked like fresh out of a shower. And of course it was endearing as hell. 

“If that’s how you’re planning to sleep,” Spencer began, referencing how you were laid out in the dead center of the bed, your arms fully outstretched and hands hanging off the mattress, “then I think we might have a slight problem after all.”  

You walked out of the bathroom a short while later, dressed in your usual sleepwear of shorts and an oversized shirt. You’d put your hair up in a bun to protect it while you showered, and now it hung loose around your shoulders. You simultaneously wished your outfit was cuter and uglier; knowing your giant t-shirt wasn’t flattering your figure while also feeling like you had too much skin exposed. Not that it mattered. You were just going to get some sleep and then wake up in the morning and head home. Everything would be back to normal. 

Spencer’s in bed already. He’d turned off the big light while you were showering, the lamps on either side of the bed casting him in a softer, warmer glow. He looked up from his book to find you standing there, and the soft, familiar look in his big brown eyes had you rooted to the spot. 

“Hey,” he said softly, patting the space next to him in invitation. 

You conceded, finding your legs again and sliding into bed beside him. “Hey.” 

He fidgeted with the pages of his book, ultimately shutting it closed on his index finger to mark the page. “So, uh, are we okay?” 

“Yeah, of course,” you answered genuinely, feeling bad that your internal struggle had manifested in a way that worried him. 

“Okay, cool,” he said. He paused long enough to let you explain if you wanted to, another invitation. You knew he wouldn’t push it if you didn’t offer something up. You wanted to give him an explanation, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. 

“Sorry,” you managed. 

“For what?” 

“I don’t know… acting weird, I guess. It’s just been a long day.” 

“Oh, well, you don’t need to be sorry about that. You’re always weird.” 

Your mouth dropped open as you looked at him. “Look who’s fucking talking,” you scoffed. Some of the tension dropped from your shoulders, glad he hadn’t questioned you further. 

“Language, please,” he held up a hand to stop you. “I’m delicate.” 

“Wha–?” you let out a surprised little laugh. “You’re an idiot!” 

“Yeah okay, tell that to my I–.” 

“Oh, my IQ of 187,” you finished for him, rolling your eyes. Even that was full of endearment. “God, you are so annoying.” 

“Hm. Y’know, this might be a long night for you. I’d hate to keep you up with my annoyingness.” 

“I feel like you could’ve come up with a better word than annoyingness, Mr. 187,” you tilted your head where it rested against the headboard, looking up at him. 

“Oh, she’s being a smartass now!” he split into a surprised grin, and you could swear your heart skipped a beat. 

“You just said ass.” 

“Wow. How quickly you’ve corrupted me.” 

“Right, of course. It’s my fault.” 

“I knew you’d agree.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” you laughed. 

Things felt a little bit more normal after that, joking around with Spencer like you normally did made the rest of the night feel less daunting. 

Shortly after that, the two of you agreed that you should get some sleep, each reaching over to turn out the light on your respective sides of the bed. 

You let yourself sink into your pillow, the exhaustion you had been feeling giving way to a hyper awareness of Reid’s body next to you. You were kept awake, completely overcome by the foot of space between you and Spencer; the consequences of crossing that space, the way it might feel, the curiosity over whether he was laying awake too, thinking the same thoughts as you. Even with that foot of space separating you, you could feel his body heat. You longed to move closer to him, to touch him, to let his warmth seep into you and lull you to sleep. 

But you didn’t, and you wouldn’t, because this was just an unfortunate booking mishap. It didn’t mean anything. Tomorrow it would be over, and you could more easily go back to hiding your feelings from everyone else and yourself. 

Eventually, exhaustion won out. 

You woke what could’ve been a few minutes or a few hours later, the sky still dark. You couldn’t tell what exactly had woken you up, only the sense that you’d moved, almost like you’d fallen. But fallen from what? 

You blinked in the dark, the street lamps in the parking lot providing enough residual light to keep the room from being pitch black. 

Reid was sitting up. He must’ve bolted upright, you thought. Had that been what moved you? Were you lying on him?! 

“Hey, you okay?” 

“Sorry. Just a nightmare,” he said as if it was nothing. “Sorry to wake you.” 

“What was it about?” you ignored his apologies, sitting up as well. 

“I don't really even remember,” he breathed, almost like it was funny. “Just having a physiological reaction to whatever it was, I guess.” 

You had nightmares too, of course. You all did. You hated remembering them, but you also hated the times when you woke up in the dark, dazed and inexplicably scared. Without thinking, you reached for his hand. 

He turned to look at you then. “I really didn't mean to wake you,” he reiterated. 

“I figured,” you smiled slightly. You noticed his breathing was just a bit too fast. You rubbed your thumb over the back of his hand, leaning over to rest your weight against his side, your head on his shoulder. His nervous system would regulate itself quicker this way. 

“You were on my pillow, by the way.” 

“What?” you ask, your head jerking back from him. 

“I totally called it. You rolled right into the center of the bed in your sleep. Total bed hog.” 

“Hey!” you protested, pulling your hand back from his in embarrassment. So you had been lying on top of him. Or at least really close to him. His hand chased after yours, finding you again. 

“That wasn’t me complaining about it.” 

“Oh,” was all you could think to say back. 

It was quiet for a minute. You let your head fall back onto Spencer’s shoulder, but your heart raced in your chest. 

“Can I ask you something?” he questioned, his tone becoming more serious. 

“Oh– of course,” you answered, your brow creasing. 

“What did you mean when you said ‘it’s not ideal’ and ‘nobody has to know about it’?” 

“Wh– I– Spencer, come on.” 

He didn’t give you an out this time. Just waited for an answer. 

“I don’t even really know,” you sighed.  

“I believe you’re being partially truthful about that.” 

“Don’t profile me.” 

“I’m not. I just know you.” 

You sighed. “You know, sometimes I hate that stupid memory of yours.” 

“I don’t need an eidetic memory to remember that. It was a weird thing to say, and it happened like four hours ago.” 

“You’re guesstimating. And it wasn’t that weird.” 

“Maybe not, but the way you said it was. And you’re avoiding my question.” 

You continued to avoid it, biting down on your bottom lip. 

“And you stuttered when I brought it up.” 

“I told you to stop profiling me.” 

This time, he just hummed in response. 

“And so what if I stuttered?” 

“Stuttering is usually more my thing. A nervousness thing.” 

Maybe this was actually your nightmare. Maybe you’d wake up soon and none of this would’ve been real, and you wouldn’t have had to explain to Spencer that the reason you’d had an attitude was because the situation tonight had made it harder to hide your feelings for him. Big feelings that became a lot harder to ignore when he was this close to you, still holding your hand, the mix of scents from his detergent and deodorant clouding your judgment. Of all the embarrassing scenarios that you could’ve imagined playing out tonight, this was very high up on the list. 

“I said ‘it’s not ideal’ because it’s not, just by definition. We were supposed to get a double room and we didn’t. Not ideal. And I said no one has to find out because I can already see Morgan having a field day with it and I know the exact expression that’ll be on his face–” 

“The eyebrows,” he nodded, lips pursed. 

“And then everyone else will get in on it and I just figured…” you sighed. “I don’t know. I didn’t want to deal with that.” 

“That all makes total sense.” 

“Good,” you breathed. Too relieved. 

“Now tell me the rest of it.” 

“God, Spencer–” you huffed out, frustrated. He knew you too well. 

You wanted to run. Maybe you could go sleep in the car after all. And then ignore Spencer for the rest of the day, and then the year, and your life, and– 

“Don’t make me say it,” you breathed. This had to be a dream. 

“But there is something to be said?” he questioned, his tone hushed, almost reverent. 

It was just vague enough. You could pretend it was nothing. 

“Yes.” 

You felt like you’d just blown your life up with one word. 

Spencer took a deep breath, your body cresting and falling with the movement of it. 

“You make me feel better about being myself,” he confessed.  

You shut your eyes. You had a constricting feeling in your throat suddenly, and the awful realization that you might cry. 

He spoke again, because you couldn’t. “I haven’t always felt good about it, you know? And then you joined the team, and, well– you changed a lot of things for me. And you’re beautiful, obviously, and I was scared to mess up what we have, because it’s special, I think–” 

“It is.” 

“–and then you started freaking out when you saw the bed,” he was smiling now, you could hear it, “and I thought, maybe it wouldn’t be so crazy… maybe I could make you feel that way too.” 

“You do. Of course you do. I feel like I can be my full self with you. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt like that before.” 

Spencer laughed, a little delirious giggle, and squeezed your hand in his. You’d managed to avoid crying, thankfully, and you grinned along with him, looking down at your joined hands as you squeezed him back. 

Things seemed to still for a beat, the two of you sitting with this moment and letting it stretch out. You still couldn’t really believe this was happening. You might have to tell Spencer to pinch you. 

“So what does that mean for us now?” you asked. 

“Well, for right now at least, I think it just means that we can go back to sleep without overthinking things into oblivion.” 

“I was not–”

“Okay, this time I am profiling you, and you’re lying,” he cut you off, his smile still evident.  

“Oh, this was such a mistake.”

He continued like you hadn’t spoken, laughing a little as he went. “I could practically hear it. It’s like, you know when a computer is trying to use too much processing power and the fan starts whirring really loud? Like that but just like right next to me, like tangible—“  

“Okay! Thank you so much, I actually totally got it, you can stop now.” 

He laughed, and your cheeks warmed. 

“For the record, I meant we could both stop overthinking.” Then he shifted a little, facing you a bit more. With the hand that wasn’t holding yours, he brushed a strand of hair from your face, a fake pout on his lips. “Sorry I make you nervous.” 

You cackled at that, if it was possible to cackle in hushed tones. “Oh, I bet you are. Besides, I know you like me now, so you’ve lost that card.” 

“Are you certain of that?” 

“Certain that you like me or certain that you can’t make me nervous?” 

“The latter. I do like you, if that was unclear.” 

Your heart sped up, contradicting you as you answered, “Then I’m certain you can’t make me nervous.” 

He titled your face up to his then, using his index finger underneath your chin to make you look at him. “You’re an awful liar.” 

You just shrugged, watching triumphantly as Spencer’s gaze fell to your lips.“It’s been working out pretty well for me so far.” 

“I guess it has,” he murmured, closing the distance between you and finally kissing you. 

After so many months of imagining (and berating yourself for imagining) what Spencer’s lips might feel like on yours, you weren’t disappointed. 

For once you didn’t have to think at all, the chemistry between you and him drowning out everything else. His hand fell to your waist, and yours moved to the curve of his jaw, pulling him closer as his mouth moved against yours. Your teeth grazed his bottom lip and he gasped, and your skin felt like it was lit up from the inside. 

You pulled away to breathe, and to process, and to try and stop your head from swimming. You were rewarded with the awestruck look in Spencer’s eyes as he opened them again. 

“Okay, was it just me, or–” 

“That was crazy,” you breathed.

“Crazy,” he agreed. 

“Spence?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I don’t think we’re getting back to sleep tonight.” Your eyes widened at the implication of saying those words at that time. “Not, like, in the sex way, though,” you hurried to correct yourself. “I need like, 4-5 business days to process things first, and I– well, I just meant, like– you know?” 

Spencer was nodding at you even as his eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “Can I still kiss you during those 4-5 business days?” 

“Oh, yeah,” you said, sounding breathless. 

“Cool,” he agreed. “You seem really nervous, by the way.” 

“Well, you kissed me.” 

“I did.”  

“How were you not nervous?” you breathed. 

“Oh, I was. Your reaction is making me feel a whole lot better about it though.” 

You scoffed half-heartedly. “I do so much for you.” 

“You do,” he replied earnestly, letting go of your hand to wrap his arm around your shoulders as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “We could lie back down, if you want. Like we were before I so rudely woke you up.” 

“Yeah, I’m super mad about that,” you joked. “Anyway, I was asleep for that, so you’ll have to show me what I was doing.” 

He seemed all too pleased to do so. “Okay, so you were basically like,” he leaned back against the pillows, pulling you down with him, moving his hand to the side of your head to guide you to the place where his shoulder met his chest, “Like that, and then your arm was over here,” he picked up your arm and guided it around his waist. 

“Oh god, that’s so embarrassing,” you said, realizing that he must’ve been awake when you’d done it. 

“Yeah, I know. Really terrible time for me.” 

“I can imagine. I can scoot back over to my side of the bed, just say the word.” 

“Don’t you dare,” he said, squeezing you closer. 

You trailed your fingers up and down his waist, feeling more content than you had in ages. 

“I can’t believe you’d suggest that I would have sex with you right after confessing my feelings. Like, take me to dinner first at least.” 

“Oh my god,” you half-exclaimed, half-laughed. You felt your cheeks heat up again, grateful it was still too dark in the room to be noticeable. “You’re right, I’m so sorry. How’s next Friday?” 

“Hmm, I don’t know. My work schedule is kind of unpredictable. I’ll have to get back to you.” 

“You’re such an ass.” 

A few short hours later, you were back on the jet with the rest of the team. You were lying on the couch while Spencer sat in a seat one row up and across from you, both to avoid suspicion and so you could try to catch up on sleep. He sat facing away from you, but with the angle you were at you could still see one side of his face if you tilted your head up. 

You were just beginning to fade when your phone buzzed next to you. 

Spencer: I have to tell you something, coworker to coworker. 

You looked up to see him blank faced, looking down at the book in his right hand, holding his phone in the left. 

You text back: okay? 

Spencer: My crush asked me out last night. 

You’re exceptionally glad no one was sitting close enough to see you. Spencer had caught you off guard, and you felt an infatuated grin spreading across your face. 

You: what did u say? 

Spencer: Wanted to get your opinion first. 

You: i think u should say yes, obviously. 

Spencer: Idk, I’m kinda nervous. I think she’s trying to jump me on the first date.

You just barely managed to refrain from laughing out loud. You looked up at Spencer again, and he’s looking at his phone as if it contained nothing more than a weather report. You’re astounded. 

You: one could argue that technically you’ve already slept together, so there’s less to be nervous abt

You saw his eyebrows raise just slightly. Success. 

Spencer: You’re trouble, you know that? See you Friday night

You: i promise i won’t try to jump you 

Spencer: Oh

Spencer: I fear I may have shot myself in the foot here

You: i wouldn’t worry about it too much

Spencer: That’s rich coming from you 

You rolled your eyes even though he couldn't see you. 

You: whatever. wear something sexy ;) 

You heard him blow air out of his nose, an almost laugh. 

“Something funny?” you heard Derek ask. 

Shit. 

“This book contains a historical inaccuracy that was proven incorrect eight years before its publishing date,” Spencer replied without missing a beat. 

Unbelievable.

You: you’re unhinged :*

Spencer: Go to sleep already, would you? 

You: coworker to coworker? my crush keeps interrupting my beauty sleep 

Spencer: He’s probably worried about the worldwide implications of you becoming any more beautiful 

You: i guess that’s why the universe gave you insomnia :( too pretty 

Spencer: Stop flirting with me

You: bc you’re too delicate?? 

Spencer: Yes 

You snapped your phone shut, feeling dazed. You watched the clouds go by in the window across from you, and you couldn’t help letting your gaze slide over to Spencer. He’d put his phone down as well, concentrating on his book. Or pretending to concentrate. He was turning the pages much too slowly for his actual pace. 

You: you have got to do a better job of fake reading than that

You heard a page turn. 

You looked up again to see the ghost of a smile threatening the corner of his mouth. 

This was going to be fun. And also, you were so screwed. 

#so they have flip phones but i didnt want to write everything in shorthand so theyre just really fast at it. go with it #spencer texts with perfect grammar bc of course he does #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #my fics

[laundrybiscuits]

The officer leans close, jabbing a finger into Steve’s chest. “You’re damn lucky it ain’t ten years ago or one state over,” he growls. “You could be looking at a felony charge, serving 15 to life. We didn’t stand for this kind of thing in Hawkins when I joined the force.”

Steve just folds his arms and gives the officer a bored look. “Okay,” he says. “Good talk. Can I see my boyfriend now?”

The officer sneers, but he steps aside to let Steve through. They’ve got Eddie cuffed to the hospital bed with another gun-toting guard in the corner. 

“Jesus christ,” snaps Steve. “He’s not gonna escape, he can’t even walk right now. Why don’t you clear out and give us a little privacy, huh?”

“Sorry,” says the guard, not sounding all that sorry. “It’s for his own protection.”

Fuck. He’s gonna have to hope Eddie can follow his lead. All that practice pretending to be a wizard or whatever has to be good for something, right?

He perches on the side of Eddie’s bed and takes his hand. He can do this. “Hey, gorgeous. How’re you feeling?” 

“Uh,” says Eddie, eyebrows doing something hilarious. “Steve?”

“It’s okay,” says Steve. He rubs his thumb over Eddie’s knuckles. This is the most they’ve ever touched, he thinks—the most that was just skin, no layers of denim or leather in between. Not even a layer of blood and dirt. 

He swallows and keeps going, willing Eddie to develop freaky mind-reading powers all of a sudden. “I know you didn’t want to tell anyone about us, but I had to, baby. I’m sorry. I had to tell them you were, y’know, with me when…when Jason killed Chrissy.”

“You didn’t have to tell them about us,” says Eddie slowly. He’s giving Steve kind of an intense look. “Honey-pie. I’m sure there’s gotta be another way. One without as many consequences for you that you might not have thought all the way through.”

“There really isn’t,” Steve says. Thank god Eddie’s so quick on the uptake. Sure, he’s being a stubborn dick about it, but at least it doesn’t seem like he’s going to let anything slip. 

“Fucking hell,” sighs Eddie. “Don’t suppose we can put that pesky little cat back in the bag. Okay. Darling angel, light of my life, corndog of my soul, who else knows?”

Corndog of my soul, Steve mouths to himself. “Just the cops. And Robin and Nancy, obviously. And—oh, remember Hopper?”

“Do I remember Hopper, he asks. Oh, pudding-pop. The late Chief Hopper and I spent so, so much quality time together over the years; he was practically a father figure to me. And just as with my actual dear old dad, his departure was cause for great rejoicing in Casa Munson.”

“Sorry to break the bad news, then. Hop’s alive, and he—uh, he knows everything.” Steve tries to communicate the scope of everything by kind of tilting his head back and forth. “He’s been…helping.”

“Huh. No shit,” says Eddie. Steve can’t tell whether or not he’s getting it. To be fair, there’s a lot to get. “Okay, gallant knight errant of mine, any news on whether or not I’m getting sprung from this charmingly appointed dungeon?”

“We’re…Hopper’s working on it. That’s why I’m. Y’know. Here. To tell you that they know about us.” 

“Cool, right, understood.” Eddie closes his eyes, leaning back on his pillow. It’s so strange to see him in nothing but a hospital gown against white sheets. He looks like a wrung-out dishtowel. 

There’s a commotion from outside, raised voices saying something like you let him what and haven’t even interrogated the Munson kid yet and not a legal status you fuckin—

“Time’s up, sweetheart,” says Eddie, mouth quirking up into the ghost of a smile. “Anything else you wanna say before they decide to upgrade my security?”

“Uh,” says Steve. He’d mostly been focusing on getting the basics of Eddie’s alibi across in a convincing way, and he can’t remember if there were any other details Eddie should know. 

He hears the door slam open behind him, and panics. “Love you, bye,” he says, and ducks in to brush a quick kiss across Eddie’s chapped lips. The last thing he sees as he’s hauled bodily out of the room by a pissed-off detective is Eddie with his eyes gone enormous and shocked, lifting his uncuffed hand to his mouth, looking and looking at Steve like something is always going to be different from now on, forever.

(ETA: small continuation here!)

#dashed off 90% of this a little while ago based on a post that I now cannot find; I’ve been traveling and finished it up on a train this AM #but yes this is literally the same general premise as bonitabreezy's I Like to See You in the Morning Light #pls go read that instead #I know I’ve lied about this before but I’m really not planning to continue this at all! it is just a silly little thing! #also IANAL but afaik IN decrim’d sodomy in ‘76; 15 to life was the max sentence in MI for first-time & repeat offenders respectively iirc #steddie

[fayes-fics]

To Know You…

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Benedict knows you better than anyone. But does he know himself well enough to know what he truly wants?

Warnings: none really… fluffy fluff. Childhood friends, class differences, marriage mart shenanigans, dancing, marriage proposals, Benedict being adorable while also a complete dumbass, unrequited to requited love, love confessions.

Word Count: 10.4k (yeah, it's a long one, folks)

Authors Note: this is a request fill for @curlsincriminology (ask HERE) about Benedict showing you all the wonderful things he sees in you, but will he figure out his own feelings before it's too late? Thanks to the complete trooper @colettebronte for beta reading this monster one-shot. Enjoy <3

I: To Know You….

“I would rather not, Miss y/l/n,” the young man clips, walking away from you at a brusque pace. 

You sigh and look down at your feet. Mrs Parsons will be so very disappointed, is all you can think.

—

Benedict may not have heard the words spoken, but even from his vantage point at the other end of the ballroom, he could see the disdainful way the young man uttered his parting words to you. It makes anger flare hot in his chest, his fist forming reflexively at his side.

He watches as you look down, shoulders hunching, folding in on yourself physically, as if the rejection for a dance has manifested in a body blow. He feels a pang in his gut—of sympathy, indignance on your behalf and mainly at the injustice of it all. To him, you are a wonderful, intelligent, caring person worthy of a good match. Still, the circumstances of your upbringing seem to stymie your attempts to join so-called ‘polite’ society at every turn…

—

You look up with a defeated mien until your eyes land on one person who has always been able to ameliorate any of your more morose moods—Benedict Bridgerton. Instantly, you feel lighter. You give him a polite nod across the crowded room, and, to your delight, he returns it, a hint of a sympathetic smile tugging at his lips. It is just so very characteristic of him to offer silent support, to understand, from witnessing a moment of interaction, precisely what you are feeling. A large part of you feels so wistful that there is no other man quite as nice as him. Suddenly, your overwhelming need is to leave this stuffy ballroom and catch some air.

You grew up under the tutelage of the kindly doctor’s widow, Mrs Parsons, whose house is not far from the vast Bridgerton estate in Kent. The naturally born daughter of nobody quite knows whom, you were taken in as her ward when you were abandoned upon her doorstep at a mere two years old. Her reputation for kindness towards young waifs and strays is likely why you were left there. It is an event you were too young to recall, so all you have known your whole life is her generosity and kindness, raising you as if her own. 

And now that you are of age, she takes you to events around Kent in the hopes of securing you a respectable husband, the most prestigious being tonight’s Hearts and Flowers Ball at Aubrey Hall. The Bridgertons have always been gracious enough to invite local families, those without the means to partake in the London season, to events at their country estate—a kindness that allows for your attendance tonight. It’s just such a pity that the one bachelor Mrs Parsons was so very keen for you to meet, one Mr Reeves, just rebuffed you so thoroughly. 

You glance down at the remaining empty slots on the dance card tied to your wrist and sigh again. Now that you are out on the terrace in the fresh evening air, the light breeze is at least a partial balm, allowing you to recover from the sting of rejection away from the hubbub of the ballroom.

“I will never understand how the men of this county can consider themselves anything approaching mannered.” 

You would know that refined voice anywhere. It haunts your dreams. Just the sound of it making your ribs tighten. You turn to see Benedict sauntering towards you, two drinks in hand, that sympathetic smile still in place.

“You are far better off without such rudeness,” he adds dryly as he pulls up beside you, arching an eyebrow for your entertainment.

“You are far too kind, Mr Bridgerton,” you answer, taking the glass he offers with a meek smile, trying not to let your ardent admiration for him be too evident. 

“Mr Bridgerton?!?” he scoffs, “What happened to BenBen?” he teases gently, recalling your childhood name for him when you were a mere four and he was nine.

“We are at a formal event; I should address you as such, should I not?” you reply playfully, a warmth spreading inside as it always does when you get the chance to have a witty, convivial exchange with him.

By gosh, if there is one man to whom you would pledge yourself without hesitation, it is him. But, of course, he is the second son of an illustrious family. To think you would have any chance to win his heart would be as likely as a future king to marry a commoner. Still, you can dream…

“At least call me Benedict, Skylark,” he winks over his wine glass as he takes a sip, butterflies erupting in your tummy at the affectionate nickname he has used since you were small; you have to avert your eyes to avoid blushing deeply.

Just as he goes to speak again, his brother, the Viscount, materialises at his side. Looking to all intents and purposes as if he is trying to escape the ball as much as you are.

“Mother is best avoided tonight, brother,” Anthony warns sagely, taking a large gulp of his champagne. “She is under the erroneous impression I am suddenly in want of a wife.”

You can't stop the giggle that bubbles up from within at his wry observation of his predicament.

“Hello, y/n,” he greets warmly, just noticing you are also there, his face morphing into a youthful, playful grin. If Benedict is the husband you have always dreamed of, Anthony is the elder brother you have always yearned for. In fact, that is always how he has treated you, akin to Eloise and Daphne, who you grew up playing with, being of similar age.

“Hello, Anthony,” you chime back. “How was the hunt earlier? Did the infamous Bridgerton brothers kill another prized stag?” you inquire, keen to engage both of them for as long as they will entertain you. Just being around them always lifts your spirits to no end.

—

Benedict observes you as you listen intently to Anthony’s recounting of the hunt earlier that day, impressed by your resilience. He has no doubts any other woman would feign an attack of the vapours had a man rejected her so harshly. But here you are, politely listening to his brother’s boasting, even though he can tell you are hurting inside.

Perhaps it helps that your snub went primarily unnoticed. You are unknown to the Ton; any witnesses likely dismissing it as the business of ‘country folk’ unworthy of note. Which, frankly, he could scoff at, seeing as he holds you in higher regard than all of the other attendees combined.

“How about you?” Anthony ends his story with a question to you, interrupting Benedict’s train of thought. “How has your experience been at our fine event this evening?”

“Oh, the house is splendidly decorated and the music wonderful,” you obfuscate behind flattery. Anthony appears to buy it, but Benedict sees behind your facade, the flame behind your usually bright gaze dimming a little, making something ache in his gut to see it. 

Damn that idiot for ruining your evening! This just won’t do…

—

You can feel Benedict’s eyes upon you as you respond abstractly to Anthony.

“Y/n here is too polite to say it, but she was treated harshly by that young Reeves chap from Tenterden,” Benedict edifies as you bow your head, embarrassed. “Let’s be sure to rescind his invitation to future events, brother,” he appends with a surly tone.

“Duly noted,” Anthony nods sincerely, a brush of confusion flitting over his face regarding his brother's vehemence.

“No, there is no need…” you begin to protest weakly but halt mid-sentence under the intensity of Benedict’s gaze.

“I bore witness. Believe me, He shall not darken our door again,” he states firmly.

It appears the matter is very much decided, and you don’t want to put up much of a fight, seeing as it ultimately benefits you. You do, however, want to bathe in the warm glow inside whenever Benedict defends you. It's wonderful to have someone looking out for you, especially one so handsome and kind.

—

Two days later, you are taking afternoon tea with Mrs Parsons at the local tea shop when Benedict breezes in, looking so majestic dressed in Bridgerton blues that you grind to a halt. Luckily, he has not seen you as he makes a beeline for the counter.

“‘Tis rude to stare, my dear,” Mrs Parsons lectures sotto voce, nodding to your teacup, frozen in mid-air.

You shake your head a touch and place said item back in your saucer as she turns briefly to look at what or who caught your attention. Then she reaches out, her lace-gloved hand gently patting yours. 

“It would be prudent to set your sights a little more realistic…” she advises with a sympathetic air.  “Not that I fault your choice,” she adds, so quietly at first you're not sure you heard her correctly, but there is a tiny playful smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. Your mouth falls open fractionally, and you stare as she shrugs. “I may be old, my dear, but I am not blind.”

Well, I never, Mrs Parsons!

As you take a bite of food, Benedict twists around from speaking to the proprietor, and he sees you. There’s a jolt down your spine as he breaks into a huge smile that claims his whole face. And you almost choke on scone crumbs as he makes a beeline over to you rather than the exit.

“Good afternoon, Miss y/l/n, Mrs Parsons!” he greets effusively. “Would it be terribly impolite to ask to join you briefly?”

Mrs Parsons' face is a picture of surprise. “Not at all; the pleasure is ours, Mr Bridgerton,” she responds affably, gesturing to the spare chair at your small round table.

As Benedict sits, Mrs Parsons shoots you an incredulous look. It's your turn to shrug fractionally.

“Mrs Parsons, I feel it necessary to tell you Mr Reeves was excessively rude to Miss y/l/n here at the ball, and I wanted to assure you that he will not be welcome at Aubrey Hall again,” he divulges sincerely.

Mrs Parsons looks taken aback and turns to you. “Why did you not tell me, my dear?”

“I-I did not think it necessary…” you twist your mouth into a bashful pout, biting your lip.

“Mr Bridgerton, thank you for bringing this to my attention, and I thank you for your generous offer, but that sort of action does not seem warranted,” she replies accommodatingly.

“That is what I said…” “That is what she said…”

You and Benedict speak in unison at the exact same moment, and your eyes ping to each other, both laughing then bowing your heads immediately. You know your cheeks are flushed.

—

Benedict loves the look in your eye sometimes. That spirited sparkle with glowing cheeks. In his opinion, that is the only look you should ever wear; no one, especially one as unworthy as Mr Reeves, should be allowed to rob you of it. He feels a strong compulsion to do everything in his power to keep you looking like that—carefree, happy, stunning. It’s what motivates his subsequent words.

“If it is not considered too impudent for me to do so, I have a suggestion for Miss y/l/n’s introduction into society,” Benedict offers sincerely. “I believe you should be able to find her an excellent, worthy match by casting a wider net.”

“What are you proposing, Mr Bridgerton?” Mrs Parsons inquiries, almost warily.

“That Miss y/l/n come to London and partake in the remainder of the season as a guest of my family. My mother seems to think it an excellent idea, and I know my younger sister Eloise is already a good friend. I do not see why they could not attend events together,” he shrugs genially.

Mrs Parsons's face is a picture again. “You have already spoken to the Dowager Viscountess of this matter?” she checks, unable to modulate the astonishment in her tone.

“Of course,” he confirms with a nod. “I made such a suggestion this morning when your names came up. She heartily concurs. Miss y/l/n here is too bright and good of a person to have her marital choice limited by geography or circumstance.”

His eyes fall on you, and his heart gallops at the searing look you are giving him.

—

You don’t even try to temper your doe-eyed expression as you look upon Benedict, him extolling your virtues to the audience of the tea room. 

Even distracted by all the wondrous things he has to say, you can detect the noise level on the surrounding tables has reduced; everyone in town always keen to eavesdrop on a Bridgerton conversation. Especially one that contains such noteworthy gossip as a local young lady being invited to the London season at the family’s behest.

“My dear, I trust that Lady Bridgerton will look after you well,” Mrs Parsons professes. “I have no objections should you desire to seize this opportunity.” Her tone pointed, very much encouraging you to do so.

“That would be just wonderful, Mr Bridgerton,” you exhale with a grateful smile. “I cannot thank you enough for even thinking to raise such a petition.”

“Think nothing of it, Miss y/l/n,” he smiles, standing up and giving you both a brief, shallow bow. “I shall see you anon, no doubt.” 

And with that, he sweeps out of the tearoom, your eye line tracking his concave outline through the curved glass as he rounds the corner out of sight.

“Well, well,” Mrs Parsons puffs out her cheeks. “I am not sure what you did to inspire such actions in a gentleman. But bravo, my dear, bravo,” she holds her teacup aloft in a toast. 

You are a jumble of emotions and could not even begin to answer Mrs Parsons about what you could possibly have done. Mostly, you are just elated by the prospect of the chance to attend the whirl of the London season, even if there is also a small pang of regret that Benedict is so keen to see you matched.

II: …Is To Love You

The following Tuesday, as your carriage pulls up outside the grandeur of Bridgerton House, you have nothing but butterflies. And as Lady Bridgerton - Violet as she insists you now call her - and her lady’s maid show you to your charming guest room, you cannot temper your excitement.

“Get yourself freshened up, my dear. There is a soiree this evening at the Queen’s new residence no less, and there is no time like the present to begin your introductions,” the dowager viscountess warmly counsels.

You nod your thank yous, and after they take their leave, you twirl excitedly around the room, taking in the elegant furnishings and airy sunlight flooding in. You pull up in front of a large sash window and are delighted to see bounteous gardens beneath. The rear of the property is very much an oasis of calm in the heart of the city. But one sight in particular draws your eye: a majestic oak with two swings attached to a stately arm. It looks like a place of refuge, and you feel oddly compelled to take a seat there.

Three hours later, walking into the palatial Buckingham House, you are in a different world from the one you know in Kent. Candlelit crystal chandeliers glint like towering clusters of jewels, spraying thousands of shards of light around the room. Every railing is bedecked in hundreds of drooping flower garlands, and the walls groan with enormous portraits of royalty. The mellifluous strains of a chamber orchestra fill the air. Your grip on Eloise’s arm is tight as you try not to look agog at all the opulence surrounding you.

“And I thought Aubrey Hall was grand,” you murmur quietly, and she just guffaws.

—

Benedict arrives late to the soiree from his bachelor lodgings, bustling in as stealthily as possible, knowing he will likely catch his mother’s ire for his tardiness.

But then he sees a sight that makes him temporarily stop dead in his tracks. There, hanging on to his little sister, surveying the room utterly lost in reverie at its grandeur—is you. He has not seen you dressed up as you are now, made over with the full attention of the Bridgerton staff. And he isn't afraid to admit to himself, at least, that it catches his breath. How they have applied cosmetics and styled your hair, emphasising your already evident beauty. And the dress they have chosen… well, he is almost ashamed of the heat pooling low in his gut; he has never seen you in such tailored, refined silks. 

Whosoever marries you shall be quite the luckiest man indeed.

He doesn't miss the way you inhale sharply when your eyes finally land on him, his chest swelling slightly with pride as your lips part in surprise before breaking into that winning smile which always seems to brighten every room, tonight being no exception.

As he pulls up to the family, he hears his mother opining to you about the men attending the ball.

“Y/n, I would like to introduce you to Lord Shelton; he is a fine young man with many interests, and he has a lovely estate near Hove,” his mother recounts as you listen intently.

“Oh god, no,” Benedict immediately intervenes, “Shelton has amassed significant debt at the Pudding Lane gaming hell…” 

Violet looks up surprised, then raises an eyebrow. “Pray tell dear son, how do you have knowledge of such? Benedict Bridgerton, you had better not be frequenting the hells of the East End,” she threatens quietly, in that stern maternal manner that has any grown man quaking in their polished shoes.

“No, of course not, mother,” he bristles, his eyes cutting briefly to you, not wanting you to think such things of him. “It is an open secret at Whites’, and why he is currently banned from the card room there.”

—

You cannot tear your eyes off Benedict as his mother side-eyes him.

Violet hums sceptically before declaring. “Well, not to worry, there are plenty of other options available for Miss y/l/n…” She steers your attention towards another crowd of young men, all talking and sipping champagne. “Baron Corning, Lord Jennings, Viscount Tewkesbury,” she recounts, nodding subtly to each one. “Any would make a fine addition to your dance card, my dear.” 

“We can do much better than any of them,” Benedict chides.

You are slightly taken aback at how very much he sounds like Anthony tonight; apparently very invested in curating who you should dance with. The problem is, with each additional suggestion his mother makes to you, he roundly dismisses them out of hand. 

Is no one in attendance up to his standard?

“Benedict, dear, a word?” Violet states pointedly after a third round of his withering opinions. “Get yourself another lemonade,” she smiles at you, patting your hand before looping her arm in her son’s and dragging him away.

—

His mother’s arm is surprisingly strong when she needs it to be.

“Darling, may I remind you, while Miss Y/l/n is indeed a wonderful person, I do not think we can afford to be too picky for her prospects. Her background is rather… unestablished,” Violet points out diplomatically as soon as you are out of earshot.

“We can do better than braggards, bores and philanderers,” Benedict shoots back, raising a pointed eyebrow.

She looks up at him and sighs. “Well, that is true.”

“As I thought, mother,” he winks as she affectionately swats his forearm. “Why not benefit from my knowledge? In fact, perhaps it is prudent I assist in your search for a suitor.” 

“Oh, is it now?” Her tone suddenly filled with intrigue, her face entirely too scrutinising for his liking. “And does not my second son wish to join their ranks?” She adds entirely unsubtly.

“I have no time for romance; I have my art. I am most preoccupied.” He waves a dismissive hand, but even he knows his answer is tellingly brusque.

“And yet, you do not seem too busy to assist with the search, dear…” she points out archly. 

Benedict has no response to that. 

—

The day after the grand ball, you are sat in the dappled shade in the gardens of Bridgerton House, attempting needlework. It's never been your strength, frankly. You would much rather be allowed to partake in more physical pursuits, like archery or fencing, a want to burn off nervous energy as you await the arrival of any suitors. You did end up dancing with a couple of gentlemen, both of whom were…. fine… in your estimation.  

After messing up yet another stitch, you throw down the embroidery hoop and emit a deep sigh when a familiar chuckle rings out behind you.

“Not your favourite pastime?” Benedict correctly guesses.

“You can say that again,” you grumble, twisting to smile at him, a little frisson in your belly at his mere presence, alone as you are.

He rounds to take a seat opposite you, across the table.

“So let me guess,” his face charmingly skewed into a thoughtful mien. “You would prefer to be doing something, hmmmm, more athletic?”

You giggle and cast your eyes downwards briefly, abashed he seems to know you so well. “Correct again.”

“I remember you being a crack shot in archery,” he smiles nostalgically before continuing with genuine curiosity. “Why did you not continue it?”

“I was informed ‘tis unbecoming for a lady,” you rue, the mental image of Mrs Parsons deeming such things ‘unladylike’ flitting through your mind.

He scoffs. “Since when did fearsome little Skylark care one jot for societal expectations?” he teases gently, with a wink, as again he invokes the nickname he bestowed upon you a long time hence. 

You smile briefly before you become more sanguine. “Since I have been informed I must find a husband…” you sigh.

He frowns a touch. “Any man would be lucky to have a wife who can keep him company on the archery field. I know I, for one, would greatly appreciate a spouse with whom I could share such a pastime.” 

A bittersweet twinge in your gut that one day he will indeed be married to some deserving, no doubt elegant, lady.

“I would venture that you are not like most gentlemen in that regard…”

“Perhaps not,” he agrees, looking thoughtful, “but then you are not like most ladies, Skylark.”

“I am not a lady…” your counterpoint softly-spoken, almost ashamed.

“You are more lady than any other member of the Ton,” he asserts, his gaze suddenly intense, as if he is willing you to believe his point. “And you should be free to pursue any pastime you wish.”

You say nothing, just smile wanly, wishing you could believe it was true.

—

How you constantly doubt yourself causes a little stab behind Benedict’s ribs. A sudden burning need to prove that you should do as you please. He slaps his thighs and stands up swiftly. 

“In fact, I am going to go set up the archery targets right now,” he nods decisively, making a beeline for the far corner of the garden where he knows the targets are kept, hoping you will follow.

“Coming?” he calls, twisting to look back at you. “I won't tell anyone…” he adds with a conspiratorial wink, seeing from the involuntary bounce of your leg how much you wish to join in. 

He cannot help the smile that engulfs his face as you jump to your feet with a mischievous giggle. Nor can he help deliberately aiming badly, letting you roundly defeat him at target practice, basking in the victorious glint in your eye as you tease him gently for losing. 

He also pretends not to notice his mother watching from a high window, her expression riveted and so very telling.

—

Later that day, you are reading quietly with Eloise when Violet sweeps into the drawing room with her lady's maid. 

“Y/n, Sir Denton is here to see you,” she smiles brightly. 

“Oh, I…” you stutter, sitting upright, surprised.

“I can send him away, Miss?”  The maid offers, intuiting your disquiet.

“No, no, it is fine… I am just surprised, that is all. ‘Tis almost 4pm. I was not expecting that anyone would be calling, given the late hour.”

Benedict suddenly materialises in the doorway. As ever, there’s that trademark flutter in your chest.

“Any reason Denton is lingering in the hallway?” he inquires airily, grabbing a teacup and pouring himself some.

“He is here for y/n,” Violet breezes as his eyes cut to you, a wave of irritation seeming to cloud his face.

“Well, we should dismiss him,” Benedict sniffs, pausing in his action, his face souring.

“Why?” Violet frowns.

“I had a chance to look into his past since I acquiesced to his dance with y/n last night…”

“Acquiesced?!” Violet scoffs, but Benedict ignores her interjection, save for a curt eyebrow raise.

“I have subsequently discovered he has vastly overstated his assets,” Benedict bristles imperiously.

“Who woke up and made you Anthony?” Eloise pipes up witheringly.

Benedict shoots her a look of irritation. “Anthony has deputised me to run family matters while he is away on business this week, sister,” he reminds pointedly.

“Yes, but you did not have to adopt his personality as well,” Eloise shoots back, disgust evident on her face.

“I take finding y/n here, a suitable match, seriously,” he volleys. “Do you wish to see your good friend married to someone unworthy of her?”

“Well, no…”

“Then kindly permit me to handle matters,” Benedict orders with finality, uncharacteristically forthright in his opinions.

“I do not wish to see her married at all…” Eloise mutters under her breath as he stalks away to dispatch Denton before anyone can argue.

You just sit there mildly dumbfounded, unsure what to make of it all. 

—

The following evening, you are attending a music recital with the Bridgertons; Benedict is notably absent, which makes you a touch melancholic in a way you don’t want to dwell on. 

However, the evening turns for the better while you are taking refreshments at the interval. A friendly-faced young man strikes up a conversation with you after an introduction from Violet.

“Are you enjoying the music tonight, Miss y/l/n?” he asks genially.

“It is very nice, Lord Glassborough,” you offer politely, trying to stifle your slight boredom. You enjoy music, but a two-hour concert is a little too much for you. You much prefer a short set of songs as they play at balls.

“I find it rather dull myself,” he opines quietly, leaning in. “I much prefer a lively song one may dance to.”

You know your face is a picture of surprise that his opinion is an exact mirror of your own.

“Have I offended you so?” he checks, looking mildly contrite.

“Not at all, my lord. I was actually just thinking the same myself,” you chuckle quietly.

He looks inordinately pleased and breaks into a friendly, toothy grin. He seems like a nice, agreeable sort. A pleasant, if not particularly handsome, face. Over his shoulder, you see Violet looking inordinately pleased you appear to be getting on so well.

—

“I am not sure I can do this...” you sigh as Ms West genially taps the metronome.

“You can, dear; just remember your finger placement,” she encourages as your fingers fall to the cool ivory keys.

And so you begin again. Attempting to master this tricky piece, your eyes tracing the lines of music as you play the pianoforte. Violet is so keen for you to brush up on your skills, given Lord Glassborough’s interest in you yesterday. You could not find an adequate excuse fast enough, and so here you are, in a slightly reluctant music lesson, trying your best to recall how Mrs Parsons taught you to play a few years ago.

“Men do so appreciate a lady who can entertain them with exquisite music,” Ms West nods approvingly as you play.

Mostly, you are relieved when you make it to the end with no mistakes, at least none glaringly obvious.

“I much prefer to sing…” you admit tacitly as Ms West shuffles the sheet music.

She looks at you surprised, then shoos you from the piano stool. “Sing for me then, my dear…” taking a seat and beginning the opening bars to a song that, fortunately, you know well.

You begin to sing along, growing more confident with every note, allowing yourself to get lost in the words, the story of a lady awaiting her true love.

“Exceptional!” she peals delightedly over the sound, and you feel bolstered to continue, her playing the perfect accompaniment.

—

Benedict stops short as soon as he enters the house. The most lilting, beautiful sound echoing gently down the marble hall.

“Who is that Jenkins?” he asks of the butler who takes his coat.

“I believe it is Miss y/l/n, sir.”

He draws inexorably closer, finding himself watching you through the crack in the doorway, listening to you sing a touching tale of love that sounds so hauntingly hypnotic in your mellifluous tones. Your eyes are closed, and you sway to the melody, lost in reverie, in the narrative you weave.

The piano stops abruptly.

“Can we help you, sir?” an elder lady calls crisply.

Benedict realises the door has crept open slightly before him, enough for him to be seen by your music teacher. He watches as you swing around and look horrified that you may have an audience. It makes him take a resolute step forward into the room.

“Do you need us to desist? Is it perhaps too loud?” the lady checks deferentially, likely assuming him to be the head of the household.

“No!” His reply is a touch too forceful. “Please continue,” he modifies. “I was merely drawn by the splendid sound I heard. I am not sure I have ever heard such a wondrous voice,” he adds, keeping his gaze steadfastly upon the lady, not able to look you in the eye as he confesses as such. 

—

You are mortified when you realise Benedict heard you singing; you have always managed to keep it private, until now at least. But now your heart is suddenly pounding at his extolling words.

“She does indeed have a most excellent voice,” Ms West concurs with his sentiment, looking at you expectantly as Benedict walks further into the room, his face with the same hopeful expression.

“I am not sure I can…” you stumble, nervous for an audience, most especially him;  his is the opinion that would matter to you the most—you would be crestfallen should he not like it.

“Sing more for me, please, Skylark?” His ask is gentle, beseeching as if it were just the two of you alone.

“Skylark?” Ms West sounds enchanted.

“My childhood nickname for Miss y/l/n,” Benedict explains as he takes a seat. 

“Skylarks have a wonderful song,” she sighs wistfully.

“Indeed,” Benedict chimes, his eyes still upon you. “I never knew how appropriate it was until this very moment.”

Something warm cracks in your chest at his sweet words, making you courageous. At least enough to nod when Ms West looks to you again from the piano. And so you restart the song for your special audience, heart in your mouth. The words coming easily to you, an extra layer of meaning he will never know as you sing words of unrequited devotion, looking to him in your braver moments. His face is enrapt, leaning forward, his eyes soft and expressive. 

As you reach a high note at the end of the song, holding it, Benedict bursts into applause, jumping up from his seat and taking you by surprise, grabbing your gloved hands in his.

“You should always be singing Skylark…” he pronounces. “Truly beautiful. Please promise me, no matter what happens, that you will always, always sing…” 

You duck your head briefly, unsure how to deal with his effusive praise. Ms West’s face is a picture as you stand there, your hands still trapped in his, feeling a tingle where the warmth of his skin seeps through the layers to yours.

“I-I-I promise,” you reply meekly, a touch dazed as you raise your eyes again to meet his, the intensity making your lungs restrict.

“Thank you.” 

Two words have never sounded so sincere or loaded with significance. 

III: … And I Do.

A few days later, it is the Trowbridge Ball, a decadent affair that is usually the most talked about of the season, apparently. You share a carriage ride there with Benedict and Eloise, trying your best not to stare at him—so handsomely dressed in a white cravat and black velvet cropped jacket that clings to his tapered shape. But mostly, you fail. Your skin flushes hot the more you look at him. You could swear that his gaze strays to you, too, subtly sweeping the fine teal silk Madam Delacroix has expertly tailored for you.

“You look beautiful this evening, ladies,” he offers politely to both you and Eloise.

“What do you want?” Eloise cuts across your reply, narrowing her eyes at her older brother, instantly suspicious of his flattery.

“Can I not compliment without an ulterior motive?” he frowns, their usual sibling dynamic emerging.

“Not usually,” Eloise sniffs, with another suspicious glance, before looking out the carriage window.

You take the opportunity to mumble your thanks to him. His responding smile warms your entire being, his hazy eyes lingering in a way that makes your skin prickle. And when he offers a chivalrous hand to assist you down from the carriage, you could swear his hand lingers upon yours a few seconds longer than is necessary. 

Around an hour later, as you go to partake in a refreshment, a sneering Lady Cowper utters something cruel under her breath as you pass, her sour-looking daughter smirking beside her. You do not hear all of the words, but you do not need to. One sideways glance tells you all that you need to know. It seems so unnecessarily cruel, never having even exchanged so much as a word with you, but even as you feel a lump in your throat, their attention is already elsewhere.

“Ah! Mr Briddgerton,” her entire demeanour changing to oleaginous charm, “my daughter looks particularly stunning tonight, does she not? I do believe you should secure a place upon her dance card before there are none left!” 

You watch Benedict blanch at the very words.

“I do not dance, Lady Cowper, but I bid you ladies a good evening,” he responds, polite but firm.

You try your hardest not to giggle at the disdained look on their faces as he sweeps past them, and you feel light as air as, instead, he draws up to you and winks.

“That woman does not realise she is doing her daughter’s prospects more harm than good with her brashness,” he comments dryly as he grabs a glass of champagne from the stand next to you.

“I am not so sure the daughter would do much better without her; she seems perpetually furious about her own hairstyle,” you opine sardonically, making Benedict snort loudly into his champagne glass. A lightness fizzles in your being as he shoots you a look of unmistakable admiration for that remark.

“I daresay you are a much better dancer than her,” he contends, not breaking eye contact, placing aside his drink before leaning in and continuing in a hushed voice. “Perhaps you would do me the honour of a dance, Skylark, to confirm my suspicion?”

There is a vault in your chest as he employs your private nickname in public and, not only that, is offering you a dance when, just a moment ago, he declared publicly that he would not. 

You can only nod, heart hammering, as he breaks out into the most handsome smile, offering you his arm and leading you to the centre of the room as you hear a ripple go through the nearby crowd. Apparently the sight of one Benedict Bridgerton taking to the dancefloor is a rare occasion indeed.

—

As he takes your gloved hand in his and curls an arm around your shoulder, he realises this was perhaps a mistake. An impromptu offer, the hollow thrill of petty revenge for the insult he observed the Cowpers sling at you. But now he realises it has rather backfired upon him.

He cares not a jot for the gossiping, people nodding and pointing to you both as you begin to dance. No, the problem is much more concerning than that. 

It is how discombobulated he feels having you in his arms.

How your body seems to fit and move perfectly with his. How, when you dare to look up at him, his mouth goes a little dry. He has never truly noticed how striking your eyes are until seeing them this close. Indeed, the evident beauty of your face, the way you seem to glow from within, more tonight than ever. It makes his chest - and somewhere else on his body - feel entirely too tight.

—

Nothing could have prepared you for this.

The feeling of literally being swept off your feet. With Benedict's handsome face smiling down upon you as you seem to float around the dancefloor. 

Surely, this is what dreams are made of?

You know it is a flight of fancy, but it seems as though the floor beneath your feet is a shower of diamonds rather than candlelight refracted through chandeliers. The warmth and strength of Benedict’s embrace caged around you, respectful but so close it makes your lungs feel too small to gasp the air you need to keep moving. But you never want to stop. A whirlwind of sensation as you twirl, carried away by the music, the man, the moment.

“Thank you, Benedict,” you breathe, knowing you are likely looking up at him far too adoringly but unable to mask it, a burning need for him to know how grateful you are for this dance, not even noting your over-familial use of his first name at a society event. 

His eyes flash and you could swear they dilate a fraction before you must turn your back to him, following the steps.

“I was right,” he rumbles cryptically from behind you now, his large hands wrapped around yours as you hold them aloft together, following the moves of the dance. “It is indeed an honour to dance with you.” 

Your belly flares as you turn in unison and realise that you are now dancing right in front of Cressida, her expression murderous. It makes you bolder than you have ever been, tilting your head sideways a fraction so your cheek almost brushes Benedict’s, fuelled by the envy you feel seething from within her.

You could swear he sighs ‘Skylark’ as his hot breath tickles your ear, your chest pounding, a flavour in the air you can taste, a powerful stirring low in your belly.

—

Benedict knows this is a dangerous path and yet is powerless to do anything but walk it. Breathing your nickname into your hair as he inhales your scent, heightened by the movement of your dancing. A light, sweet floral perfume but underneath the smell of you, familiar from many years of friendship but altered now, more decadent, an undercurrent of tart berries that thrills and stirs deep within him. Even while knowing his ever-vigilant mother is watching, an inscrutable expression upon her face. 

He is almost grateful when the music ends before he does something foolish. But then you are staring up into his face, all doe-eyed expectant beauty and his tongue feels unexpectedly tied. He is almost grateful when an interrupting hand wraps around his shoulder.  

—

You watch Will Mondrich whisper in Benedict’s ear, and before you know it, he is offering apologies to you with a shallow, polite bow before hurrying away. Coming back to reality with a bump, you drift awkwardly from the dance floor, feeling judgy eyes upon you, suddenly flooded with concern your behaviour was entirely too wanton. 

Before your thoughts can spiral too far, however, someone materialises at your side.

“I do so hope your dance card is not full tonight, Miss y/l/n,” a newly-familiar, chipper voice cut in.

“Lord Glassborough,” you breathe; your relief at seeing his cordial face is palpable. “I am available to dance right now,” you smile politely, taking his proffered arm and letting him lead you back out to the spot you and Benedict had just vacated.

As the music begins and you move together, the difference is… noticeable. Gone is the frisson over your limbs, that excitement as if your skin could vibrate off your bones. Instead you feel comforted, almost a brotherly presence as he leads you in the dance. He is technically proficient, but it feels lacking—that tension, that heat burning in the space between you. It makes you yearn for Benedict even though he was just with you. It makes your stomach settle with a leaden weight you realise you will have to settle for less than what you truly desire.

Still distracted by your mental comparison, you absently acquiesce to his suggestion to take some air upon the terrace as the dance ends. You sense Violet, ever the vigilant chaperone, follow as he leads you into the cooler air outside. 

“Miss y/l/n…,” Lord Glassborough begins cautiously. You sense a nervousness in his being, pulling your full focus to him. “I think us most compatible, would you not agree?”

“We make most excellent friends, indeed, Lord Glassborough,” you hedge, not wanting to appear overzealous.

“And friendship is the most appropriate foundation to build something more… tender,” he argues with a smile. “I do believe I could offer you a most agreeable life.” 

There is a strange twinge in your chest as suddenly, you realise what this is. The moment everyone, except perhaps yourself, has been awaiting all season.

“I would be honoured if you would consent to be my wife, Miss y/l/n,” he humbly offers a sincere kindness shining in his eyes.

And there it is. An offer of marriage from a perfectly nice, respectable gentleman done in an appropriate manner. 

To one side, you see Violet clutch a hand over her chest, face delighted, even as you form fists within your delicate gloves, wishing this moment were not happening so soon after a truly breathtaking dance with the man of your dreams. Who is not the same man as the one before you, nervously shuffling from foot to foot, awaiting your reply. 

“I am honoured, Lord Glassborough,” you answer cautiously, bowing your head demurely. “This is a big decision to make. Please allow me time to give you my proper, considered answer?”

“Of course,” he bows chivalrously, his accommodating nature making this moment all the more bittersweet. He is indeed a lovely man. 

He is just not the one you want with every fibre of your being.

—

That night, you cannot sleep. Knowing you have the most significant decision of your life to make. So, in the small hours, you find yourself drifting to the deserted kitchen of Bridgerton House to do what you do best when you need to think calmly—baking. 

An activity you have grown up doing with Mrs Parsons. Many hours spent happily with flour dusting your hands, sun streaming into her grand but homely kitchen. A perhaps slightly maverick pastime for a lady of her social standing, with staff to do such things for her should she wish it, but so very enjoyable nonetheless. 

Throwing a large, heavy baking apron over your nightdress and robe, you potter around, the flagstone of the basement floor cold underfoot, a grounding feeling that stops your mind from racing too much.

You have no idea how to respond to Glassborough’s proposal. On one hand, he is a seemingly nice man, certainly of a good family. You are sure he would be a perfectly acceptable husband, unlikely to be mean or untoward. It is just… a nagging voice is telling you to turn him down despite him being an imminently sensible choice, your heart wanting, well, the impossible. A man that excites you, not just a safe, practical option.

You are onto your second batch of lemon and rosemary biscuits when a voice makes you jump out of your skin.

“What on earth…?”

There in the doorway is Benedict, looking confounded to find you here. The very man who makes your heart skip, always. He is dressed the most casually you have ever seen him— also barefoot, in a white frilled shirt and dark trousers, brocade braces slung around his hips. You swear you may have to grab the bench before you to stay upright.

“Y/n! We have cooks you can call upon at any time should you need food!” he fusses, instantly concerned, moving to ring a bell on the wall.

“No! Please do not!” You exclaim, rushing to stop him, grabbing his sleeve in your haste. “I-I enjoy baking. It is relaxing; it helps me to think.”

His brow knits and his eyes flick down to your hold on his sleeve, a warm vein pulsing under your fingertips. You snatch your hand away quickly, a blush staining your cheeks, mumbling an apology as you scurry back to your biscuit-making.

“Alright,” he concedes slowly, still appearing confused. “When I saw the sconces lit from the rear stairwell, I assumed one of the staff was still down here.”

You find it bemusing that he seems at pains to justify why he might also be in the kitchen, especially to you, a guest. This is Bridgerton House, and he is a Bridgerton. He may go wherever he pleases, surely? And yet here he is, doing so.

“I was rather hoping for some hot cocoa,” he explains with that soft, crooked smile that always makes your heart flutter.

“Oh! Well, umm, I could make you some cocoa?” you look down, wiping your hands upon your apron and moving to do so.

—

That you would make such an offer, as if seeing yourself as unpaid help, spurs him into action.

“No, you certainly will not!”  He decries, moving swiftly towards the larder before you can. “I am perfectly fine with some cold milk,” he assures, re-emerges with a bottle and pouring himself a glass, leaning back against the sink to take a sip.

Despite the lateness of the hour, he finds your heretofore secret pastime strangely fascinating. A lady who bakes. By choice. So he watches as you return to making your biscuit dough, entertained as you begin to beat the mixture quite furiously with a wooden spatula.

“Have those ingredients caused you some sort of personal offence….?” he jests lightly, nodding to the bowl.

He observes a flit of contrition across your face before you answer.

“I, umm, have a decision that I must make; baking helps me think,” you explain vaguely, then appear to rapidly change the subject. “I am, however, sure of one fact - some biscuits are a must to accompany milk. There is a completed batch over there.”

“Genius,” he opines with a wink, enthusiastically moving to grab one from the cooling rack you signalled to, delighting in the blush that darkens your cheeks. But he decides to push the topic you abruptly avoided. Concerned there could be a topic you are genuinely wrestling with. If his opinion on the matter can ameliorate your burdens, he would be most honoured to assist.

“What sort of decision must you make?” he inquires before temporarily losing the power of speech. There is an explosion of tart lemon and earthy herb on his tongue that melts into a buttery sweetness, utterly divine. “Lord alive, these are delicious!!!” he exclaims around the mouthful.

“Thank you,” you answer softly. 

You are always so modest about your talents; it sometimes makes him want to grab your shoulders and shake you gently. To make you see what he does. 

“To answer your question, it is a perplexing matter that needs serious consideration,” you explain, stopping short of detail. It appears you are not yet ready to share the news with him. Something about that makes him a touch sad, but he also does not want to pry if you are reluctant to divulge. 

—

Benedict swallows the bite he has taken, and you find yourself staring at the movement of his throat as he does. Knowing one thing to be true—if it were his proposal, you would not even hesitate for a split second. That wistful thought makes you suddenly melancholic, and you sigh, pushing aside your mixing bowl, realising this may be an issue baking will not fix.

“I do so hate to see you doubt yourself, Skylark,” he offers quietly after a beat, mien so earnest. “Trust yourself. You will find the right answer for your dilemma; I am certain of it.”

He is so remarkably supportive that, ironically, you almost want to scream at him.

“I should leave you to your thoughts,” his tone is gentle, reluctant.

“Please, there is no need, Benedict,” you try to assure. “To be honest, in all of this world, yours is the company I enjoy the very most…”

That truth is out of your mouth before you can censor it. 

You sheepishly glance over to be met by a surprised look on his face. He takes a few steps towards you, probably without realising it, and suddenly, he is very close, faint wisps of his woodsy, citrus cologne tickling your nose.

“And I, yours, Skylark…” he rumbles, his gaze falling to your lips. 

Time seems to stop, and you feel pinned under glass, staring up into his handsome face as he breathes slightly ragged, your body rioting as he engulfs your senses, definitely too close to be considered gentlemanly, polite…

…But then, he takes a sharp inhale and steps back as if coming to his senses. He turns heel with a hastily muttered goodbye, and before you know it, he is gone. Leaving you bewildered, your thoughts scattered.

—

The following day, Benedict is idly reading the paper, partaking in a leisurely lunch of tea and cake, when his mother swans in, reeling off a set of instructions for her lady's maid.

“Oh, and lastly, do not forget, we should secure an appointment with the modiste, in case Miss y/l/n should know her answer today…” Violet concludes breezily as she takes a seat.

“Yet another ball we must suffer, mother?” Benedict drawls drily, folding down his paper and taking a hearty bite of zesty lemon drizzle.

She shoots her son an exasperated look before neatly smoothing a serviette into her lap as she is served her usual afternoon Earl Grey by the butler. “Miss y/l/n will be in need of a wedding dress, Benedict, dear.”

He spits an array of crumbs onto his newspaper, coughing in shock. “She will need what?!?” he wheezes, barely recovering.

“Lord Glassborough proposed to Miss y/l/n last night, my dear, at the ball. She has yet to give her answer, but I am certain she will. They are a fine match,” Violet declares, taking a sip of tea.

“Why did she not mention it to me?” he mutters, more to himself than anyone, his forehead creasing heavily in a frown as he swallows the rest of his mouthful.

“Why would she have?”  

“We talked last night…” letting slip perhaps too much in his perplexed state, lost in his own tumbling thoughts.

“When last night? We returned from the ball very late,” a suspicious tone in his mother’s voice, belatedly releasing he should know better than to think aloud; she is sharp as a tack.

“I-I found Miss y/l/n baking last night… in the kitchen when I went for cocoa… she told me she had a dilemma she was wrestling with…” he admits, looking down at the paper, the words now a jumble before his eyes. “Mother do you think it is possible she will say yes??” Benedict's head snaps up, his heart suddenly pounding in his ears.

“She would be a fool not to,” Violet points out, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow at him. “Unless there was another, perhaps more wanted, proposal she could consider. Do you possibly know of one? Son?” 

Even he can read between those lines. 

“I-I am late,” he abruptly changes tack. “I promised to meet Anthony today to discuss the soil at Aubrey,” he bustles rapidly, standing and fleeing the room before he can allow his mother to see how much of a complete lie that is.

—

Benedict spends the afternoon at White’s, downing perhaps one too many whiskeys as he grills his fellow patrons upon the Glassborough family. Looking for any reason he can find to object to the betrothal while steadfastly refusing to examine why he feels so passionately about the subject. He also spends time checking the hefty tomes of Debrett’s the club holds.

He returns to Bridgerton House just as dusk settles in, the sky streaking red and pink as he enters.

“Where have you been, dear?” Violet asks as he rounds into the parlour.

“Researching,” he gruffs economically.

“What? Or rather whom?” Violet inquires, revealing she already has a firm idea of what she asks.

“I can find nothing wrong with him!”

Benedict paces, an energy emanating from his being as if he is rattled by that very fact.

“That is a good thing, is it not, son?” Violet reminds pointedly. “We want y/n married to a good gentleman…”

Benedict shoots her an exasperated look but relents. “I suppose…”

“Is not your reluctance perhaps for another reason, my dear?” Her question is gentle, if not particularly subtle.

He slumps into a wingback chair with a defeated sigh. “Go ahead. Say your piece, mother.”

“I have watched you, darling,” she begins gently, watching him tip his head back and screw his eyes shut. “I do not know exactly when, but your regard of Miss y/l/n has altered, and I am not the only one to observe it.”

Benedict's eyes fly open, and he tips his head down with a frown as his mother continues.

“Even Colin has marked a change in you. If you feel anything, my dear, then Miss y/l/n has the right to know. Before it is too late. The right to make an informed choice if you are bold enough to give her one. Son, I have only ever wanted my children’s happiness. And if your happiness lies somewhere that perhaps even you have not realised until now…. well then I encourage you to follow it. Follow your heart.”

Her impassioned speech suddenly makes the pieces of a jumbled jigsaw before his eyes arrange into a pattern, a way forward that is suddenly clear and sharply in focus.

It makes him leap to his feet, an urgency thronging in his being.

“Where is Miss y/l/n?” he almost barks. 

“I do not know,” Violet confesses, “but I do know she has not yet seen or written to Lord Glassborough,” she adds.

“Good…” he rasps, headed determined out of the room to find you.

—

The verdant lush grass is cool between your toes as you curl them over, sighing heavily, the night now dark, a twinkle of silver among the navy sky, soon to be black. The swing under the big oak, a refuge you have sought many times since staying at Bridgerton House, feels a particularly poignant place to be tonight as an internal war rages within you, your decision swaying back and forth as much as the wooden seat you are perched upon, the rope digging into your cheekbone as you slump against it, flummoxed.

You know what your answer to Glassborough should be. Indeed, what it should have been from the moment he asked. 

A resounding yes.

In every practical measure, this is the best possible outcome of your London season. A proposal from a thoroughly decent, acceptable gentleman, way above the station you were expecting, given your less than prestigious certainty of lineage.

And yet.

And yet.

There is a large part of you, your heart, that wants to turn down the proposal, foolhardy as that may be. Wanting to feel akin to what you felt as you danced with Benedict last night. You are not so foolish as to believe he would ever propose, but perhaps there is someone else out there for you that may evoke something similar for you? Even if only half, it would be enough. Enough for you to build a future around and feel contentment in your heart, to not just settle for what your head knows to be a sensible choice. 

—

Having searched the house, he rounds into the garden and stops short, heart leaping into his throat as he spies you, swaying gently upon the swing, looking thoroughly lost in thought. It makes his chest ache that you are so melancholic about a decision that should indeed be joyous. The selfish part of him celebrating, hoping that perhaps you are not. His memory recalls with perfect clarity how you have looked as lost as he now feels every time you have been close. The unbearable lightness of hope seizes his legs and draws him inexorably closer.

—

You whip around as you sense company and have to take a deep breath as your eyes fall upon Benedict. His face pinched with a restless intensity.

“I was hoping I would find you,” he exhales.

“You have,” you shrug, still confused by his crackling energy, him seeming in a rush to say something.

“Skylark, you deserve the very best of everything. Sincerely. And part of that includes that you should know the truth in the hearts of those lucky enough to know you…” a slight quake in his voice as he takes a step closer.

“Alright…” you respond cautiously, your brow creasing as you sense the nerves emanating from him.

You gasp as he rapidly drops to one knee before you, a hand clutched to his chest. 

“I have been a fool to not see it before now. My own ardent admiration for you, for your talents, for your beauty. I realise now, perhaps too late, that you are truly the most wondrous, precious being in this world. You may not always see it, but it would be my greatest honour to show you, every day, if you will permit me, what I see when I look upon you. What I have always seen if I am honest with myself. A light that shines brighter than any other, a bird that soars higher and sings more sweetly than any other. A soul that it would be a privilege to be bound to. I know it is perhaps the worst possible timing, seeing as you already have a proposal from a perfectly acceptable gentleman. Still, I could not let you get married without letting you know the contents of my heart.”

You are stunned. Speechless. 

Your heart pounds in your ribcage as you sit there stupified for what must be an age, Benedict looking upon you expectantly, breath slightly ragged from his long speech. Somehow, convincing yourself this could only be a dream. That the man you have adored since before you can remember has just made the most beautiful poetic confession of love you have ever heard. And it’s to you.

So, you do the only logical thing that comes to mind. Pinch your own leg. Hard.

—

Benedict is momentarily confounded at your actions.

“Owwww!” you yelp. “Not dreaming then…” is your muttered follow-up, rubbing your own knee as his face morphs into the most enormous grin, a lightning bolt of joy tearing through him as he realises what you are doing, that you can scarcely believe this is happening any more than he can.

“It is really me, Skylark,” he chuckles softly, seeing the way your eyes dilate rapidly as he can't help the lopsided grin that claims his face, a warmth behind his ribs that is just for you.

“I realise that now,” you sass back, and there is a stirring in his trousers at the tone you employ.

“I love you.” 

It's a reflex; he doesn't even realise he says it. But as soon as it's out of his mouth, it's like an invisible burden has been lifted from his entire being. The truth. Plain. Simple. Honest.

—

You know your face is aflame as you snap back at him, entirely without meaning to, but then he says three little words that tilt your whole world even more. 

“I-I-I love you too.”

You are bewildered when you say it aloud. 

 The truth. Plain. Simple. Honest.

“Marry me? Please. My darling, wonderful friend,” he implores, his bare hands grabbing yours, tingles shooting over you as your skin touches his.

“Yes!! I will!!!” you answer breathlessly, not even a second of hesitation. 

He leans in and captures your lips with his. They are warm and soft as they move gently with yours. And when he opens your mouth with his and his tongue rolls delicately over yours, it feels as if all the fireworks you have seen in the sky live now inside you, popping and exploding in a riot of colour. A whole new world of sensual pleasure is promised in that one move.

“Are you certain?” you murmur as you break apart for air, a flash of insecurity that this is happening so fast, even as there is a strong pull inside, a want to keep kissing him over and over.

He smiles, tilting his forehead to yours, a wistful look in his blue eyes.

“To know you, truly know you, is to love you, Skylark,” he sighs, his words a blanket settling over your quaking heart.  “And I do. I truly do.”

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @notanotheruniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @sya-skies

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton fluff #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n

[iberiancadre]

I've talked about this before but I have a deep dislike of sentiment like this within "leftist" circles, regarding unions. And it's practically always from USamericans, go figure.

(Before anyone interprets this post on bad faith, which is inevitable, I am not against being in a union and I am not telling people not to join a union, it's the most inmediate form of protection workers have and that is, in fact, good)

It's this overbearing insistence on joining unions, treating it like the best (and only) way of achieving workers' liberation, and I think that shows either a bad understanding of what unions are or a bad understanding of how capitalism works. Unions are bargaining bodies for workers, that's it. They aren't revolutionary, and they aren't going to kill your boss. And I want to really hammer in this point. They aren't revolutionary. Precisely because their role is to bargain, and to achieve better conditions within the system of salaried work.

You are never going to "liquidate the ownership class" by getting longer breaks, paid holidays and an excellent health plan. Keep in mind, bargaining with the capitalist is necessary, and that in itself isn't non-revolutionary, not necessarily. But the only purpose of a union is to bargain. I really don't think people get this. A union's only purpose is to bargain, it is to negotiate. Negotiations also necessarily imply compromises and unsatisfactory deals. Unions are not a magic key to not being exploited, and they especially are not the way to liberation.*

I think this is especially prevalent in the US because of two things:

Their labor movement is so fucked that any kind of opposition to capitalism is by default radical. And therefore some people feel it's enough to just tell people to join a union. However, this isn't unique to the US and many places have it much, much worse

Living in the imperial hegemon makes it very easy to ignore any other place outside of their little sphere. People can go years engaging in left-of-DNC circles but without ever leaving their USamerican community, they end up not knowing who James Baldwin is, to give a topical example. This affects the US labor movement by allowing them to ignore other places' struggles, so it's very easy to see anything they do as the horizon of political action. They only need to look to their own country for examples in action, and the truth is that the labor movement in the US has been largely very mild. In the cases when it has not been mild (notable exceptions include the Black Panthers), it's largely forgotten, demonized or revised in bigger circles.

So you get people who call themselves communists just for being unionists. But a communist is someone who identifies the core of exploitation to be the very structure of capitalism and work and attacks it. You are not a communist, however, for believing the core of exploitation is your shit boss who refuses to pay for dental.

And what's funny is that 90% of what people on here claim to be communist and anti-capitalist is just the norm on most of the world. People will hype up the DSA or VoteSocialist2024 as if they're breaking ground, and then you read their programs and they're just socialdemocrats. They are nothing more than reformists, just another manager of capitalism.

My father works for one of the biggest textile manufacturers and distributors in the world, and unionization is the norm, it's a "union job" but it's still shitty and exploitative. There are in fact 3 unions, and they engage in petty electoralism within the workplace, only sometimes actually protecting worker's rights, and that's a country-wide norm. This is what unions end up becoming when they become established, especially with a friendly government in place.

CCOO was a union created in the late fascist dictatorship in Spain, and they were genuinely fighting (with guns!) against the dictatorship. And the moment the dictatorship ended and they became the largest union in the country, they slowly became less and less radical, and more complacent. Last year they signed a labor reform that legalizes highly precarious and inconsistent forms of work contracts. That's not "liquidating the ownership class", that's just social-democracy when it doesn't need to be the opposition anymore

To wrap up, a note on syndicalism, anarcho-syndicalism, etc.

Unions are by their very nature an organization that only operates within one aspect of the life of the working class, the workplace. Sure, it's the main one and the part that defines us as a class, but it isn't the only one. In order to actually "liquidate the ownership class", you have to take power by force, and that will have to involve intervening outside of the workplace. What syndicalists used to claim is that unions can be the base of a socialist society and organize the entire working class to destroy capitalism. However, at that point, you have created a party and called it a union. And not only a party, but a myriad of them, each with their own characteristics and desires. So a multi-party system. I will not get into the viability of multiple parties in socialism in this post, but they are not unions in anything by name.

Footnote under the cut:

*I know I'm repeating myself a lot these days on this topic, but if you live in an imperial core country, there is no way to have prosperity (as the example above puts it) without some of that wealth coming from imperialism. It does not matter if your particular country never had colonies, it does not matter if your country is stereotypically nice (fuck the Nordic countries). And no, the expoliated wealth does not only remain within the capitalist class, there is always at least some circulation of wealth from the capitalist to the workers within any welfare program. If your workplace can afford to have long breaks, that is at least in part because your capitalist is profiting from the exploitation of the third world, and because the entire economies of imperial core countries uses the wealth extracted to support their deficits and to stabilize their currencies.

It's not a hard concept. If you can understand that it's basically impossible to manufacture batteries for renewable energy without exercising violence on places like the Congo, it's not that hard to understand the same is true for most things.

#real marxist hours #unions #finally got (mostly) all of my thoughts on this into words #accidentally posted before I completed it and now there's two posts :(

[darklordofthesimp]

Anything VII (König x Reader)

The 7th instalment in the Anything-Verse

Main Masterlist

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - 7 - Part 8

Like the characters? Read their fics below!

Sunshine Masterlist || Saint Masterlist

Series Summary:  A lack of information from the chain of command results in König mistaking you for an enemy sniper.

A/N: I’ve already got the next chapter mapped out hee hee

Category: Angst || Hurt/Comfort || Unrequited Pining || Tension

Warning: Graphic Language

You’d barely slept, how could you?

Though you supposed that you should have been used to broken rest, this time it wasn’t for the usual reasons. There were no nightmares that clawed at your mind, no anger that made you sweat- but, there was paranoia. 

There was crippling anxiety that had you wanting to hide beneath the covers, there was fear that gripped you by the throat. The sensation of being stunned was overwhelming, your thoughts were scattered and your world was tipped upside down.

Everything that you believed, everything that you had come to terms with, it was all a lie. 

You risked a glance at the clock, groaning as you realised that you’d have to get up. It was a mission, more so than usual. Dragging your sorry ass from the safety of your sheets was proving difficult, but the knowledge that you’d have to go train with König made it all the more impossible. 

You took a deep breath in as you pulled your top over your head. It was different now, the lines were blurred and König might not be the enemy that you imagined him to be. If there was anyone that was going to help you unravel this with the same urgency that you felt, it was going to be him. 

He’d do anything to prove himself, anything to stay as a sniper.

He wanted to keep the life he’d stolen from you. 

Your stomach turned at the thought, the words weren’t sitting as right as they used to. The anger that occupied your chest with relentless heat has begun to cool as of late. If König was truly misinformed, it would mean that he really was just trying to do his job. 

It meant that he was paying the consequences for someone else's misdeeds. 

It meant that he was also a victim. 

A chill ran down your spine and the fire in your chest reignited. Maybe he was a victim, but he sure as fuck didn’t look like one- he didn’t look like you. 

You groaned as you stepped through your broken doorway, the reminder of how unhinged König could truly be was unwelcome as always. You thought that the Austrian kicking the door down would terrify you, it told you that you were never safe no matter where you locked yourself up. Instead, the fact that he’d done it to ensure your safety confused you. 

You mulled over it as you walked towards the gym, mindlessly stepping one foot in front of the other. 

A couple of minutes spent trying to decipher how you felt towards König felt like hours, any small bead of energy expended suddenly blew out to exhaustion. The man was an enigma who left you stranded in your own thoughts, flailing to find land.

“Good morning, Birdy.” 

You forced yourself not to flinch away from König’s voice as you stood deathly still in the doorway. The man offered you a small wave from inside the gym, his arm stretched over his head as he loosened his muscles. 

You didn’t want to gawk at him, honestly. It was just kind of hard not to. 

He was larger than life, something that would never fail to amaze you. The sheer size of him was one thing, but his presence took up the rest of the space in the room. The breath in your lungs dissipated into nothing as you took in his visage. 

“Good morning, König,” you managed to say softly. 

You both froze for a moment, the gentle return of his greeting had caught the pair of you off guard. You supposed that there had been a shift between the two of you over the past few weeks. 

But the way you felt about the man before you gave you whiplash.

Torn between hatred, fear, familiarity and comfort, you wished you could just chalk him down to a psychotic beast that wished you harm. 

But he wasn’t and he didn’t. 

The path your mind had begun to wander reminded you of the revelation you’d come to. 

König cleared his throat, slowly standing upright as if he didn’t want to shatter the fragile friendliness between you both. Finally, you stepped into the room, one heavy foot after the other and your heart in your throat. You wanted to break the silence between you before that unnamed tension could grow, feeding on the quiet and everything that went unsaid. 

“What did you have planned today?” You questioned with a raised brow, “anything torturous and terrifying?” 

The Austrian snorted softly through his nose, crossing his arms over his chest. The slight smirk that pulled his lips upward had your breath catching in your throat. He cast his eyes downward before flicking that jade gaze back up to meet yours.  

“Isn’t everything I do “torturous” and “terrifying” according to you?” König said, the playful tone was obvious but tentative.

You took a deep breath. He wasn’t diminishing the incident, he was finding some semblance of humour between the both of you. You swallowed the small drops of rage that threatened to open the floodgates. 

“No,” you said, pushing your hands into the pockets of your hoodie. “That’s just you, I meant the training this time.” 

You watched the shift in König’s features, the way his shoulders relaxed and his eyes softened. The olive branch had been extended, received and the see-saw of emotions between you had finally tipped to fall on the opposite end. 

“Well,” König offered a small smile, “I promise that the training today will not be as scary as I am.” 

You tried to ignore the genuine relief that flooded through your chest, tried to maintain the easy-going air that had settled in the space between you. Despite your best efforts, anxiety threaded itself across your throat as you stepped closer to the looming figure before you. 

König slowly uncrossed his arms, sensing the shift in your attitude. It seemed like he always knew, even when you said nothing and your face didn’t change, he knew. Sometimes it irked you, but at times like these when he could read you and adjust, you appreciated it. 

“I promise,” he reiterated, that jade gaze as soft as ever. 

You took in a shaky breath, then released. “Okay.”

“Okay?” König repeated, taking a step toward you. 

“Okay.” 

And right there and then was the first time you’d seen him smile. 

It was brief, barely a flash of his teeth as he quickly regained control of himself, but it was enough. You knew that you’d never be able to dispel that image from your mind, you knew that you’d be thinking about it as you went through the never ending cycle of wondering whether you hated him or not. 

You knew that you’d want to see it again. 

A shiver ran along the length of your spine and an unfamiliar heat spread across your neck. You cleared your throat in an attempt to clear your thoughts. It might have been unsuccessful in that regard but it did get König to step into action.

“Right,” he said with a sigh, scanning the space around him. “The sooner we get started the sooner you can escape the torture.” 

Now it was your turn to snort as you took your sneakers off. “If only it were that easy.” 

König rolled his eyes, approaching you with slow and lazy steps that had your heart racing. You straightened up, letting him move closer until he was barely a breath away. The moment that you had both shared in the kitchen raced across your mind, the scene beginning to look dangerously similar- hopefully Graves wouldn’t appear around the corner to trigger your fight or flight reflex this time.  

“Can I help you?” You managed to choke out, dropping your gaze from his. 

“Uh, no.” There was mirth in his voice. The man took a step backward, his hands raised with his palms facing outward. “Are you not ready?” 

You tried to not look at the size of his fingers, you tried not to remember how they felt wrapped around your throat. 

“Ready?” You stammered. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to make eye contact, frozen as you stared at those fucking hands. They’d done so much damage, so much. 

You tried not to remember. 

Saint had always told you to replace a negative interaction with a positive interaction whenever you’d begun to spiral. When you remembered how hard his eyes had been when you'd been on that roof, you tried to remember how soft they were when he spoke to you now. 

Your mind fell back to the moment in the kitchen. 

“I’m ready.” You nodded, taking in a deep breath as he moved in close again. The scent of him flooded your senses, the faint recollection of his deodorant, something sweet and woodsy. 

Those hands slowly lowered and you watched as they fell to rest on your forearms. 

You remembered them holding you down, pinning you to the concrete as the weight of him pressed into your stomach. But, you also remembered those same fingers holding you ever so softly as he inspected you for burns. 

You let loose a soft breath, forcing your gaze upward. He was already watching your face, his eyes scanning your features for any sign of serious distress. 

“Well,” König murmured, his words tasting of the caramel latte he’d been sipping on earlier. “You going to take me down or not, kleine vogel?” 

You raised a brow, “you don’t need to cuss me out, I’m getting there.” 

The man frowned for a short moment, mouth opening and closing as he fought to find the appropriate response. “I did not swear at you?” 

The sentence was more of a question than a statement and while he was stuck in his confusion, you saw opportunity. 

You swung your hands around the grip that he had on your forearms, digging your fingers into his skin instead. You dragged him towards you with a sudden jerk that took every ounce of strength that you had. 

For a moment, you were worried that the giant wouldn’t budge. However, his whole body fell forward as you dropped onto your back with him above you. Both your feet came up to rest on his pelvic bone, bracing as the entirety of his weight fell onto your legs. The momentum was your best friend with this movement, pulling his hands to your chest as you kicked him over your head. 

The sound of 300 pounds hitting the ground hard behind you had your heart soaring. Adrenaline was pumping through your system, propelling you to your feet as you spun to mount your victim. 

König’s face was contorted, teeth bared as he gritted them hard. His hands were above his shoulders, fists clenched and you could tell that you’d stunned him. 

Satisfaction flooded your being. 

You scrambled up the length of his body, pressing your weight onto him as you clenched your knees hard onto either side of his hips. Your hands came down to push against his wrists, pinning his body as best as you could. 

The silence between you both was only broken by the sounds of panting. König’s chest heaved beneath, shallow and quick breaths as his eyes slowly fluttered open to glare up at you. 

“That was rude,” he groaned. “Smart. But rude.” 

“Yeah, well,” you replied with a shrug, taking a moment to try and wet the dryness in your throat. “Fights are often unfair.” 

König’s eyes narrowed for a moment before conceding your point. “Yes. Yes, they are.” 

You’d seen the signs too late, the way his lips quirked upward before he ripped his hands from yours. You’d felt his fingers grip your waist but you were unable to react before the world tipped from beneath you. The floor met your back hard enough to banish the air from your chest and your body froze as you were spun right back into the disadvantage. 

A gasp ripped from your throat, eyes wide as you stared at the man now above you. His hair fell across his forehead, resting atop his lashes as he watched you through a hooded gaze. Neither of you said a word and you didn’t bother trying to fight him off. König made a show of slowly moving to grip your biceps, your fingers scrabbling uselessly against his forearms as he pressed you into the ground.

His body was tucked between your thighs, spreading your legs far enough apart that they were rendered useless from beneath him. You swallowed hard, struggling to catch your breath. 

“Very unfair,” he confirmed with a husky murmur. 

“It’s always unfair with you,” you rasped, your fingers gripping his skin tightly. “Always, König.”

König’s face fell, any trace of satisfaction turning into something akin to sorrow. He cast his gaze aside. 

“Perhaps,” he said. “ But, perhaps if you were prepared it wouldn’t have been so unfair.” 

You watched him carefully. 

“Wrong place, wrong time.” You whispered. 

König met your gaze again, observing you for a long moment before offering a hesitant nod. “Yes.” 

Maybe, this was your chance. This was the opportunity to talk to him about what you suspected, to hear his side of the story entirely. Maybe, if you could sift through the discrepancies between your stories and what his chain-of-command had told him, you could both unravel the mystery. 

Either someone was trying to kill you and used him as the weapon to do so or something bigger was at play. 

Maybe, both? 

“Speaking of,” you began shakily, your fingers nervously tapping against his skin. There was no real way to gently ease into the topic, you’d just have to drop the bomb. “Do you think that maybe the whole incident was a little too… convenient?” 

König fell completely still, his eyes baring into yours. 

You supposed that maybe you could have been a little more tactful. 

You swallowed nervously when his chest didn’t move to breathe, he was as still as a sniper watching for their target. He reminded you of a snake lying in wait, preparing to strike out at any given moment. Suddenly, you didn’t feel so confident that he was the one that you should have spoken to about it. 

The man said nothing and you’d begun to realise that he didn’t plan to. 

“I just mean that,” you scrambled for words, anxiety clawing at your throat when he only stared. “I just mean that maybe it wasn’t just an accident or a miscommunication, maybe they were using you as a way to get what they want.” 

König’s face didn’t change when he spoke. “And what would that be?” 

You hated how perfectly still he was. 

“To take me out.” You could barely spit out the sentence.

The mans grip tightened against your arms and the small amount of trust that you’d built between each other teetered on the edge of a proverbial cliff. Adrenaline dumped into your system when he took in a deep breath, clenching his jaw. His eyes never left yours, holding you captive not just physically but mentally. You were scrambling for air. 

“I think that you are overthinking,” he finally said, relaxing his grip and releasing the tension from his lungs. 

Your heart dropped. 

Overthinking? 

Why wouldn’t he want to investigate this further? It would exonerate him, it would relieve him of the guilt, it would make him innocent. 

“What?” You rasped, blinking as though it would clear your confusion. “How can you say that?” 

“Easily,” König said, sitting up. His demeanour was suddenly so cold. He let go of your arms, shooting you one last look before he attempted to stand up. “You’ve been through a traumatic event. Overthinking is normal.” 

Desperation clawed at your chest. Before you could stop yourself, you reached upward to snatch his hands. König’s fingers interlocked with yours and his eyes widened when you pulled him back toward you. Your hands were trapped between his and the floor once more, his face only a breath away. 

But you couldn’t even think about the proximity and, for once, you didn’t even care. 

How could he just dismiss you like that? 

How could he just try to leave without even hearing you out? 

“König,” you whispered pleadingly. “Please, just listen.” 

The man shook his head immediately, trying to pull his hands from your grip. You held on as tight as you can manage, his name falling from your lips over and over as you begged him to stay. You needed him to hear it, you needed him to help you. 

“Let go, Birdy,” his voice was firmer than you’d heard in months, the sound of it a shock to your system. How the tables had turned, this time you were not the one trying to escape. Regardless, you disobeyed, only tightening your hold on him. 

“Just tell me what happened, maybe we can work it out,” the words sounded desperate, even to you. You sounded like a lover pleading for a second chance to make the relationship work. You sounded like you were holding to your last tether of sanity. You sounded crazy. 

König’s face was hard when he tugged back again. “We already know what happened, Birdy.” 

“Listen to me-” 

“Let it go, Birdy.” 

“But if you just-” 

“Enough!” 

You recoiled, flinching as he yanked his hands from yours, breaking your grip as easily as tearing a cobweb. König’s fingers wrapped around your biceps, pushing you back against the floor, restraining you from getting a steady hold on him.

The man leaned down, jade eyes alight with something you’d never seen. He burned, the thunderous expression painted across his features warned you that his blood was simmering beneath his skin. 

“Enough,” König seethed, his voice dangerously quiet. 

Fear trickled down your spine. 

Your heart dropped. 

As you watched the Austrian soldier lean over you with a ferocity that rivalled that godforsaken night, you realised that in your desperation you had been so stupid. So, so, so fucking stupid. 

König wasn’t going to help you. 

König was in on it.

#konig x reader #König x reader #König #könig cod #könig call of duty #call of duty x reader #call of duty #Modern Warfare 2 #könig modern warfare #könig mw2 #COD MW2 #cod mw2 x reader

[angelltheninth]

Roommate Yuuji Itadori Catches You Watching Porn

Pairing: Yuuji Itadori x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, roommates to lovers, voyeurism, caught masturbating, couch sex, blowjob, toy use, watching porn together, couch sex

A/N: Got another roommate Yuuji thing that I'm working on but I wanted to write this one first.

Roommate!Yuuji has always looked at you like you were special. From the moment the two of you moved in together he tried to be a good roommate, always knocking before entering your room and getting so flustered if he saw you in any state of undress.

Roommate!Yuuji kept his lewd desires to himself, always masturbating in the shower in the morning or very late at night when you're asleep. He would sometimes hear you if he got home late but not wanting to embarrass you he didn't say anything about it.

Roommate!Yuuji had no idea that you were the kind of person to masturbate in the living room. Then again he was supposed to be gone for the rest of the day and he was very quiet when he walked in. He could only see you from the back but there was no mistaking the distinct sloppy sounds of you fucking your pussy and the loud moaning coming from the tv screen.

Roommate!Yuuji wanted to pass by but he paused hard when he saw you were watching an actor who looked a lot like him, older but still pretty close. Not only that but you were fucking yourself with a pretty pink dildo, the exact same color as his hair and moaning the first few letters of his name. His cock was so hard, there was no way he could let it go down on it's own now.

Roommate!Yuuji didn't mean to scare you so much you dropped the dripping dildo on the couch. Fuck, your nipples are hard too, he wanted to suck them so badly. His cock was in his hand, hard and leaking with cum from watching you. He feels like a total perv but his horniness is bigger then his shame. And with your mouth open like that it looks perfect for fucking.

Roommate!Yuuji wants to confess before he does anything. If he read your signals wrong he can move back with his old roommate. Was he wrong, or do you love him back, lust for him? Yeah? That is really good because he's been pining for months. You want him to ask you out on a proper date of course but he's the one who interrupted you, so you think he should take responsibility and help you finish. Oh you're embarrassed for getting seen, but you want to suck his cock more.

Roommate!Yuuji braces against the couch as you suck him off and finger yourself at the same time. He's still looking at the tv screen wondering how many times did you get yourself off to stuff like this while thinking about him. You won't have to anymore, you live in the same apartment, whenever you feel horny come to him, he'll fuck you any time you want. His cock is at your disposal.

Roommate!Yuuji finishes on your face before he sees another porn start playing with the same actor, this time he's fucking his co-star over the couch. Would you like that too? What else would you wanna try? Tell him about the porn you watched and he'll fuck you just like that. He doesn't mind watching it with you. It can be a good way to get fammiliar with each others tastes.

Roommate!Yuuji is following the exact rhythm from the porn you're watching, but his touch feels more gentle, his words too being ones of love and praise, how he finally has your warm pussy after so many dirty dreams. He will try his best to please you, he swears it. It's probably gonna take a while for the two of you to get rid off all the pent up desire, not really a bad thing if you ask him.

Roommate!Yuuji finishes inside of you just like the actor in the porn did. This is his first time giving anyone a creampie and he thinks he's already addicted. Not just that he's officially addicted to fucking your pretty pussyhole, it feels like fate to him that you became roommates because no one else ever made him feel so happy and complete.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #yuuji itadori x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #yuuji itadori smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk fanfic #yuuji itadori fanfic #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jjk imagine #yuuji itadori imagine #jujutsu kaisen x female reader #jjk x female reader

[goldsainz]

MY LITTLE LOVE — one shot.

pairing: daniel ricciardo x reader

2K CELEBRATION. MASTERLIST.

taglist: @lorarri @lpab @whatthefuckerr @noncannonships @lunnnix @elliegrey2803 @schumacheer @saintslewis @leoramage @ellswilliams @toomuchdelusion @alearicci

request: “hiii! 📀 either angsty Daniel or Lando with the song “Ex’s & Oh’s” by Elle King or “My little love” by Adele”

NOTE: this is my first mom/dad fic so i hope it’s good! also can someone laugh with me at the likes in the first post… i saw the oportunnity and ran with it (i named the child theodore… that’s like my top 1 on boy names so you’ll just have to deal with it😭) daniel’s text are in lowercase bc i realised too late that they were and i was too lazy to redo it, so pls ignore that

liked by maxverstappen1, claireholt and 507,283 others

yourusername mummy doesn’t like anyone else like you 👩‍👦

view all 7,610 comments

ynfan1 theo is too cute omg

ynfan2 idk but smth about daniel not liking or commenting hurts me so bad

⤷ danielfan1 take me back to 2021 when they were still together 💔

ynfan3 missing the times when they went on vacation with daniel

ynfan4 THEO IS THE CUTEST

danielfan2 max liking… i just know he shows daniel every single post😭

⤷ ynfan5 daniel still follows her so he probably sees them himself

ynfan6 MILF ALERT🚨‼️

user1 where are they now?

⤷ ynfan7 mallorca! y/n posted a story a couple days ago

danielfan4 DANIEL PLS COME BACK WE ALL MISS YOU

danielricciardo has posted an instagram story!

yourinstagram has posted an instagram story!

liked by danielricciardo, blakelively and 482,761 others

yourusername this is what i do when i’m alone 🙃

view all 7,241 comments

danielricciardo Theo misses you (but without the facemask)

⤷ yourusername which is why i can only put them on without him present

ynfan21 she still looks gorgeous even with a facemask

ynfan22 y/n content is always welcome🙌

danielfan21 im sorry… are we all just ignoring this daniely/n interaction???

⤷ ynfan23 for the sake of my sanity, yes

⤷ danielfan22 “theo misses you” AND YOU DO TOO MF

ynfan24 she’s so real for this post

ynfan25 DANIEL GET HER BACK YOU DUMBASS

danielfan23 no has served so hard while wearing a facemask quite like her

ynfan26 if their interaction is anything to go off of, the balloons were so from daniel

liked by yourusername, lando.jpg and 371,804 others

daniel3.jpg Family time

view all 5,576 comments

danielfan31 WE ARE SO BACK

danielfan32 the pic of y/n is giving domesticity to the max

ynfan31 THEO IS THE CUTEST KID EVER

danielfan33 “family time” you’re so down bad

ynfan32 did y’all not read y/n’s interview…

⤷ danielfan34 i did and i’m ignoring it😍

ynfan33 “talks about our relationship don’t really happen” my ass

danielfan35 it seems like they REALLY care for each other

danielfan36 theo be the matchmaker we need 🙏

#*ੈ✩༄ my works ! #── my 2k celly #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x reader #phoebe tonkin #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x female reader #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo fic #daniel ricciardo one shot #daniel ricciardo social media au #daniel ricciardo smau #daniel ricciardo instagram au #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 social media au #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 social media au

[rxzennia]

nocturnality

– tales of the voracity pathstrider

✎𓂃 irregular sleep patterns make for good nightmare consolation

aventurine wakes up in a cold sweat, throwing off the sheets as he sits up abruptly. 4am, his bedside clock reads, and he rubs his eyes. he can’t get the images of the thirty-four slaves he had killed out of his head; he watched the life drain from their eyes, and they were children like him. neither could he be rid of the feeling of blood on his hands, from those whom he stained himself with, and those who stained themselves upon him.

see, he isn't the type to seek anyone out in his moment of vulnerability

he doesn’t trust anyone to not take his fears and use them against him

but he thinks you might be safe

you did put up with him for 5 years and counting, after all 

although he still can't really tell if you like working for him

you haven't left yet! and you seem to care about him!

it means something to him, even if you're not outright showering him with warmth

he would've loved it if you were more affectionate, but he finds himself liking the way you’re only ever soft for him 

you’re a slab of ice to everyone else (even to him occasionally, if he doesn’t pester you enough to get you to open up)

anyways, he debates between texting, calling, or visiting you in person

your room is not too far away from his block – he might as well try his luck

(he has insanely good luck, so maybe you will be awake)

before that, he sends you a text just in case

it's not even a text, it's just a random sticker in his recents

your reply comes a few seconds later, and it's so characteristically you

one question mark. literally. just “?”

there he has it, you're still up and about. aventurine is used to your patterns by now, even if he can’t wrap his head around how you sleep so late and rise so early.

well, as long as you're well and doing your job properly, he's not going to question it

though he does wonder if you sleep at all

you’re his dutiful secretary during the day, sorting his documents, reminding him of his schedule and the like

you even follow him into meetings if he asks you to 

sometimes he has to be ready by 5am

and guess what? you're awake and all dressed up by then, knocking at his door at 5am sharp

but you don't go to bed until 3am?

he only knows that because he had once tried to talk to you about a project idea he had at that time and you didn't pick up the phone 

when you finally did pick up on his second call (in his defense, you usually weren’t asleep yet), you sounded groggy

and then you were like “mrrrrrh what is so important that you must wake me?”

he will never tell you how much he found your sleepy voice adorable

that was the earliest he's ever seen you sleep in all the days that he's known you

he really, really hopes you’ll renew your contract with him

you’re his absolute favorite out of all the secretaries he’s had

no one’s as soft with him as you are

no one’s ever tried to listen to him, or to understand him the way you do

out of everyone, you’re the only one who he feels some sort of genuine connection with

he’s seriously considering giving you a permanent position when your current contract ends

a familiar sequence of knocks sound at your door, and you know it's aventurine who's come to visit you. you've set up something like that with him because of the sheer frequency at which he bothers you outside of office hours, and you'd like to know which inconsiderate bastard it is who tries to visit your room past midnight.

affectionately, of course

it's not like he's causing you any inconvenience, so you don’t really care

you look at him, and wordlessly, you open your arms

you don’t need an explanation, or excuses, or an apology, or anything

his eyes are bloodshot, and you can see the cold sweat still on his forehead

he didn’t even bother tidying up before coming to see you

your heart aches, because it isn’t very often your boss comes to you in this state

he doesn’t even hesitate before he plops face first into your embrace

you’re lucky it’s the ungodly hours of no-one-is-awake, because you bringing your boss into your room is not a good look for you

especially when he’s holding onto you like you’re his secret lover or something

you don’t talk, and neither does he

you just hold him as he clings to you like you’re his lifeline

you lift him up easily; you're not about to stand in the doorway for the rest of the night 

he likes how you don’t ask questions, how you comfort him without expecting anything in return

you don’t even know what exactly it is that plagues him, but you’re so tender with him all the same

you settle down in bed with him, though he can tell that you were working before he interrupted you

your monitors are still on, and you have a dozen of papers laid out side-by-side along with a pen that is now abandoned

he feels a little bad, but also he’s overwhelmed by how easily you do these things

like… setting your work aside because he’s looking for comfort

but you’re not even doing it consciously? you’re doing it so naturally like you’re doing it out of habit

he doesn’t think you intended to tuck him into your bed when you picked him up

he doesn’t get it. he doesn’t get you.

you could’ve held him in your lap while you worked and he wouldn’t have complained

to give him your undivided attention like this

are you trying to make him lower his guard? 

he wants to draw the natural conclusion of your eventual betrayal once he lets you in, but he finds it so ridiculous that it’s impossible

you? who’s so gentle with him? who’s not even spoiling him consciously?

aventurine doesn’t feel safe with many people, if at all. the fact that he breathes so peacefully by your side is a surprise in and of itself. when your fingers brush against his hair, he shivers and holds onto your arm tighter. 

“don’t go,” he says, as sleep slowly takes him again, “stay.”

you chuckle, a sound that he loves to hear, as you offer him your entire right side

and your scarf

you don’t know if he’d like it, but you flick the end on your right over to him anyway

he does like it. he snuggles into the fabric without hesitation

he vaguely remembers the fact that your scarf is your weapon, but it’s the least important thing on his mind right now

it’s soft. it smells like you. it’s comfortable.

you’re still trying to work, settling for reading through documents on your tablet

he cuddles up to you, shifting in your warmth until he finds himself a nice position to settle into

you let him sleep by your side, even if you’re unlikely to rest yourself

it’s okay, you can work through the night just fine with your tablet

you’ll be right next to him when he wakes

you glance at aventurine, who’s finally relaxed and getting the rest he deserves. he’s snoring softly all the while holding your arm in a death grip, and you feel yourself overcome with a surge of protectiveness.

you’ll watch over him. when he’s feeling better, you’ll see if he wants to talk about it. and whatever happens next… well, you’ll cross that bridge when you get there. you still have contracts and agreements to review, and there’s only so much time before more work ends up on your plate.

that said, aventurine’s day starts in three hours; maybe you could shuffle a few things around and let him sleep in?

#honkai star rail #aventurine #aventurine x reader #ares's voracity pathstrider tales #honkai star rail x reader

[intromortal]

situationship!y.jw x reader

wc: 2,5k+

cw: smut, brat taming, oral (f receiving), teasing, overstimulation, no protection, creampie, a tiny bit of plot bc i can't shut up, jake is a loser, i think that's all!

“Wonnie, please", you manage to whine out while knowing better than anyone that it’s not enough to get him moving to where you need him the most.

“You know better than giving me half-finished sentences, especially with the stunt you’ve pulled today doll”, he leans back on his knees with a playful smirk on his face.

You feel tears prickle your eyes at the humiliation while you debate whether it’s worth ignoring his request and waiting it out, even though you already know the answer.

Jungwon senses your tiny moment of hesitation and takes advantage of that, inching his fingers closer to your weeping hole.

“Mmh, seems I have to fuck it out of you then", he says as he pushes your matching panties aside and collects your juices on two of his fingers before pushing them in, doing his best not to stimulate your clit just like he knows you need him to, looking at the scene before him with his bottom lip between his teeth.

You immediately regret not giving him what he wants right away, Jungwon might be possessive, but he is also very, very patient.

You’re whining now, “I’m sorry, please, I need your tongue”.

“You’re a little too late on that baby, don’t you think?” he smiles down at you and coos at your pleading face, “gonna have you so dumb on my fingers, my tongue's all you’re gonna think about”.

You would be lying if you said that annoying Jungwon was not one of your favourite things to do ever since you two became friends.

Can you even call it that? You don’t think fucking behind the rest of your friend’s backs is the ideal definition of friendship, but if that’s all he’s willing to give you, then you won’t turn it down.

There's an uncertainty around your relationship that leaves you confused. You feel like he avoids the subject anytime you try to bring it up, but you yourself also don't really know what you want since you’ve never been the type to want anything serious anyway.

At least for now.

Sure he's extremely good-looking, but thinking about him sexually had not ever crossed your mind, let alone romantically.

Well, at least until the night you found yourself alone with him at your apartment after everyone else left and decided to talk back one time too many, pushing him to quite literally flip your world upside down. 

But still,

you just never cared about relationships. 

The first times you found yourself entangled in his bedsheets were never planned, just the result of heated gazes and lingering touches. You chalked up your longing for him to the feeling of newness and unfamiliarity, the Jungwon you know outside his bedroom seemingly a completely different person.

Then, as the months went by and the meet-ups started getting more frequent and planned, but the feelings stayed the same, you decided it just had to be that no one has ever made you cum as hard as Yang Jungwon has.

Just two friends fooling around.

So why did you feel so hurt by him suddenly rejecting your advances?

As desperate as it sounds, you had been trying your hardest to get his attention for the past few weeks in multiple ways, going as far as sending him pics with your expensive new lingerie set, only to get left on read.

Your confidence took a hit from this. Had Jungwon suddenly stopped finding you attractive? Was he seeing someone prettier? Though with the memories of his open-mouthed kisses all over and the hours he spent worshipping your body, you could not make any sense out of it.

Maybe that was just the way he fucked no matter who was under him, so passionate you would think it was love he was making to you, not just a hookup.

It's not like he's the only person you could fuck. Anyone would drop to your knees if you asked them to. 

And very desperate, kinda pathetic Jake was waiting for you, he had been for a long time.

Everyone in your friend group knows that he has his eyes on you, even though he has yet to make his move because of how inexperienced he is, scared he might not be good enough for someone like you. But you might just find it hot, you might just want to teach him how to pleasure you. 

That, or you were just irremediably horny after Jungwon left you hanging for so long.

That’s how you find yourself in your current position, Jake inviting you over to his and Jungwon’s shared apartment for a glass of wine after a night out with your friends which you spent very openly flirting with him (very much to Jay’s dismay, who just told you to take jake back to your dorm and get it over with, you couldn’t help but let your gaze wander to dungeon, curious about his reaction, only for him to ignore the comment completely).

You walk in with the two friends, Jake taking your jacket from you and pouring you a glass of wine while Jungwon bee-lined for his room. 

You got comfortable on their couch while making conversation with Jake, wondering why the man you’re trying to get out of your mind didn’t take up Heeseung’s offer to crash at his place, sensing where things were going between you and the blonde.

Jake was honestly shocked at your sudden attention, after so many years of pining after you he was about to give up hope. You clearly had known about his attraction for you for a while, so he wondered what suddenly changed. Not that he was complaining, he’d take anything you were willing to offer him.

You were so beautiful to him. He honestly struggled to believe you were real sometimes, like in this very moment, your makeup a bit smudged from the hours spent outside, your very short skirt riding up your plush thighs and the dazed look in your eyes from the alcohol. He thinks you might be the single most gorgeous being he has ever laid eyes on. 

So it’s not surprising that he has to excuse himself to the bathroom to sneakily take care of his raging hard-on before he comes in his pants from just looking at you like the little pathetic virgin he is. He absolutely cannot embarrass himself like that in front of you.

Jungwon walks out of his room, walking right in front of you to get to the kitchen, completely ignoring your existence. You’re very irritated by now and would be lying if you said you weren’t expecting some sort of reaction from him after months of intimacy.

He walks back with a water bottle in his hands, his biceps flexing when opening the tight cap and taking a gulp of it while keeping his eyes on you. Suddenly you feel very small under his watchful gaze, but he has yet to speak to you.

So you bite first.

“What do you want?", it’s more of a snarky remark than a question, but he doesn't show any annoyance to your sour tone. 

“Has the bitch boy cum his pants yet?”, he says while closing the bottle.

You try to hide how taken aback you are by his comment, but he knows your expressions better than anyone else.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb now, it's either that or he’s fucking his fist thinking about you in that bathroom hoping he’ll last longer in your cunt. Cute really, I’ll give him a few strokes max”.

You can’t help but get goosebumps after finally hearing his voice addressing you after so long, filthy words still sounding so angelic to your ears.

You did admit you have always liked annoying him.

“And how is that any of your business? Yang Jungwon”, you say while challenging him with eye contact.

He slightly rolls his eyes at that, a small smirk playing on his lips, showcasing his dimple.

He seems to think about what you just said, tilting his head to the side while looking at you, his bangs slightly covering his eyebrows. Unfortunately, you are all too familiar with the glint in his eyes.

“You’re right, that would be none of my business if it weren't for the fact that you spent this entire night desperately looking to rile me up while trying to get that little bitch to fuck you”. He speaks softly as he inches closer, towering over your sat figure on the couch, "you're trying way too hard, for your information", he adds as he gently tilts your head up with his fingers.

“Jake? Really? Can he please you as well as I do?”.

You're surprised to hear him talk about his best friend like that, but you already know the answer to that question as you close the gap between your lips.

 Not too long after that, you find yourself pushed against the door of Jungwon’s room, legs wrapped around his waist as he leaves wet open-mouthed kisses along your neck and collarbones, the blonde long forgotten.

You try to grind down on his very evident boner but he keeps your hips still with his strong arms.

“Behave”, he whispers sternly before moving his mouth to your ear and grazing it gently with his teeth.

He suddenly pulls away and shoves you onto his bed, towering over you and sliding his leg between your thighs.

“Wanted my attention? Don’t worry baby, you’ll get it alright”, he whispers while slowly removing your top, revealing the same lace bralette of that lingerie set you sent him pics of.

You suddenly feel embarrassed, he had ignored those texts, and he must have disliked them.

Your worries are revealed to be baseless when, as if reading your mind, Jungwon lets out a groan at the sight and takes one of your nipples in his mouth while his fingers toy with the other but decides to keep the thin material on your chest.

You try to sneak your hands behind your back to undo the claps, but he stops you. “Keep it on baby, fucked my fist so many times to those pics, wanted my attention so bad, didn’t you?”, he rasps between sucks, starting to kiss and lick down your navel. You let out a moan to that, the thought of Jungwon pleasuring himself too hot to handle, you think about asking him why he never replied, why he left you hanging for so long, but you hold your tongue, you're sure you’ve already ridiculed yourself enough in his eyes.

You have a suspicion he will go back to pretending you don’t exist after he has his way with you, but you push these thoughts to the back of your mind, choosing to focus on his hands flipping up your pathetic excuse of a skirt as his kisses that are slowly inching toward your thighs.

He takes his time with them, nibbling at them slightly, knowing he’s driving you absolutely insane.

He spends the next half hour denying any stimulation to your clit, using his other hand to keep your hip to the bed to stop you from chasing his fingers. 

“Wonnie please, do something, anything,” you say between sniffles. He suddenly relents and inches his face to your clothed cunt, removing his fingers and licking your clit through the fabric.

“Won I’m beg-“ he doesn’t let you finish this time. “Got you doll”, he whispers as he lowers your panties slightly and attaches his mouth to your cunt, nose bumping your clit every time he moves.

He’s now removing his mouth from your cunt, ignoring your protests as he inserts his fingers inside you immediately lowering his head again to take your clit in his mouth, sucking on it. 

You know you’re close and you're so afraid he’s just going to rip it away from you, nonetheless, you know that even if you try to lie he’ll be able to tell when you’re coming anyway, no one knowing the signs of your body language as well as he does.

“I’m close, please, Won, don’t take it away”, you sniffle as tears start to form again in your eyes. Jungwon fondly giggles at your dumb state as he guides you towards your high, helping you ride it as you come on his tongue with a drawn-out moan of his name.

“You taste so good baby, let Jake know who is making you cum”, he keeps slowly fucking his fingers inside you as he makes eye contact, his gaze dazed with need.

You’re so surprised he actually let you cum that you don’t realise he has gone back to lapping at you, moaning into your mound at how sweet you are. 

You try to pry him away, but he easily pins your arms down with one of his, his head coming up slightly to speak to you, “we are far from being done doll, you wanted my attention”, he whispers seductively at you “you’re gonna have to take it all”.

Jake doesn’t remember when he let lust take over him and slightly opened the door to peer in and doesn’t know how many times he’s blown a load. He suspects it to be even more than you have, and right now you’re a babbling mess under Jungwon, that’s finally fucking into you after god knows how long he spent with his head between your legs. All Jake knows is that there’s cum all over his hand and his cock is so sensitive and tears are streaking down his cheeks and he still wants to bury himself in you so bad he thinks he might die. 

He should be offended really, he should be one between your legs. Jake wants it to be him so fucking badly and feels so pathetic as his cock hardens in his hand once again.

He saw how Jungwon eyed the both of you during the night, and if looks could kill, he’d be six feet under right now. He feels grateful to even be able to listen and watch you two.

So he starts moving his hand once again, closing his eyes while trying to hold back any sound and imagines that those sweet sounds you’re making are reactions to his actions and not those of his housemate.

Jungwon knows the other male has been spying on you two, and he tries to ignore the way this information makes his cock twitch. He almost feels sorry for you, fucked so dumb you can barely form coherent sentences, only sweet babbles of his name leaving your mouth. He thinks it's the best thing he has ever heard. 

“Close doll, just a little longer”, he whispers fondly in your ear. You’ve been so good to him, and he feels his heart swell with pride and his cock twitch at the thought of Jake seeing you so sweet and compliant for him. 

He knows he's looking and knows he shouldn't find his pathetic friend fisting his cock to him fucking your tiny cute abused cunt so hot, but he does.

And it makes him cum so hard he's surprised at himself.

He slows down slightly before pulling out, careful not to let any of his seed slip out, fingering it back in despite your complaints and pulling your cute little panties up your hips to keep it there, finally letting himself meet Jake's gaze with a smirk on his face.

a/n: wrote this on a whim and definitely don't love it but still thought i'd share. thank you rolling eyes in live jungwon for being my muse

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