#he's not physically present in this but it's his fucking house

[sp0o0kylights]

Part Eight

A03

We left off: Eddie has an injured leg, Gareth is concussed, there’s a now injured manticore in Hawkins and possibly a moving gate in the walls of the lab, which is storing mysterious, glowing green goo. Prior to all that, Steve was having a breakdown about leaving Hawkins brought on by his parents returning home.

Gareth has noticed Steve’s “crush” on Eddie, *all* of Hellfire is painfully aware of Eddie’s crush on Steve, and Hopper just showed up to the Byers in Scooby Doo pajamas.

Cue the music.

One minute Hopper was shaking a finger at the pile of children on the couch, spittle flying from his mouth as he demanded everyone both talk and shut up--

(“They can’t do both, Jim.”

“I don’t care Joyce, I--”

“Well I care, and you’re in my house, so I suggest you shut up.”

“Fine, but--”

“Jim!”

“I was shutting up!”)

--and the next Steve had wrapped Gareth’s own hands around a warm mug, quietly leaning into his ear to ask if he was okay.

Gareth nodded jerkily, blinking back to the present, fighting off the panic attack that had dogged him all night.

“Yup. I’m great--good! I’m totally good.”

Steve snorted (a gross but common Steve sound) but otherwise left Gareth with a squeeze of his shoulder, before taking the other mug he had over to Eddie.

Who, Gareth realized, was staring at Hopper with the resigned air of a man glaring down his own executioner.

“What I don’t understand,” Lucas was saying as Steve tried to get Eddie to take a mug, “is what the manticore’s guarding.”

“You didn’t hear the green goo story?” Dustin said conversationally, like this was a Tuesday and not the middle of the night after a monster attack, head craning around to look at his friend.

Gareth had to give it to the kid, he had balls of fucking iron to ignore the look Hopper was shooting his way.

“Green goo?” Hopper butted in, needing an answer but clearly not eager to hear it

(Behind Gareth, Steve had resorted to physically taking Eddie’s hands, and wrapping them around the mug. He kept them there, fingers over Eddie’s as he leaned in, whispering something into the older teen’s ear, clearly trying to get his attention off Hopper.

It didn’t seem to be working until Steve said--or did--something, and then suddenly Eddie was taking in a shuddering, wobbly breath, eyes darting to look up into Steve’s. He took the mug much the same way Gareth had, though he blanked his face out a hell of a lot faster.)

“Glowing green goo. It’s--wait, where’d that guy go, he explained it really well.” Dustin leaned his entire body out from the couch, looking towards the wall of Hellfire members. “Hey, you! Stuck Stewart!”

Grant and Jeff slid away from Stewart immediately.

Who pointedly dumbly towards himself, squawking out a startled, “Me?”

“Yes, you.” Dustin said, like this was a fucking gameshow. “Tell Hop what you told me.”

As Hopper turned to face them with a startled expression, it became evident that he was just now realizing the teenagers in the kitchen weren't the ones he had expected to encounter.

His gaze swept over them in a clinical assessment, as if memorizing their faces so he could write them up later. Each of them let out a sigh of relief when he moved onto the next person, before his eyes landed on Eddie--and stayed.

“Munson?” He hissed, causing half of Hellfire to flinch.

To Eddie’s credit, he didn't react. Just reclined in the chair like he owned it, and raised the mug of chocolate Steve had just let go of.

“Nice jammies, Hop.” He said in lue of a greeting.

“Ignore him.” Dustin demanded, in a tone that had Jeff and Grant both side eyeing him. “The glowing goo is the important thing here.”

He gestured with his hand in a 'get on with it' motion, shooting an impatient look at Stewart.

Who audibly swallowed.

“So there uh, there was a rumor…” Stewart started, the story coming out in jerky, hesitant waves.

He kept looking at Hopper as if the man would interrupt him at any minute, and Gareth couldn’t tell if he was hoping to be cut off or happy to be allowed to talk.

He got it all out though--the rumors about the goo, the weird trucks and people loitering around town.

How a friend (omitting, Gareth noted with muted amusement, that Mikey was both an adult and the Hideout’s bartender) put it all together, spun it up into some crazy conspiracy theory and fed it to half the town’s best gossips.

The entire time Stewart spoke, Hopper was staring Eddie down.

Hellfire didn’t miss it.

Joyce didn’t either, and even Jonathan looked a bit fidgety.

(The kids looked perfectly fine, but then, they didn’t seem to realize Hopper wasn’t exactly focused on the whole goo thing.)

Stewart’s story ended, tailing off awkwardly when it became clear he had nothing else to add, and that everyone was waiting for Hopper to say something.

“Jim…” Joyce started, tone low in warning, which seemed to kickstart the chief back to life.

“Right. So we have one group of dumbass teenagers who went into the lab on a dare,” Hopper drawled, in that “don’t you bullshit me” tone cops just loved to use, “a second group of dumbass children who went in because they apparently, haven’t learned their lesson about meddling in government affairs, and Munson here—-”

Hopper flicked a hand at Eddie.

“—-was involved because his friends called him for help and not because the lab is the perfect spot to get high with a large number of people. Do I have that right?”

They all exchanged a nervous look with one another, but no one said a word.

Hellfire as a whole was used to getting their shit rocked by teachers, shop owners, and occasionally, the cops (usually an idiot who wanted to throw their weight around by busting up band practice or searching a car for drugs).

Pissing off the Chief of police though? That was an activity Eddie typically did solo.

And boy was Hopper pissed off, fury building waves as he leaned in like a predator opening its mouth right before it ate its prey.

“This shit? The Upside Down, monster shit? Isn’t something I screw around with. Especially not when my daughter’s involved. So we’re going to try this again, and this time, I want to hear the truth.”

He held up a hand to halt the explosion of protests from the kids section without bothering to even look in their direction.

“From Munson.” He finished, crossing his arms over his chest.

Eddie answered by taking a noisy slurp from his mug.

Gareth winced, but this sort of back and forth was par the course for a Munson-Hopper encounter, and he knew better than to get in the middle of it.

Steve, apparently, did not.

“Stewart just told you the truth.” He said flatly, giving Hopper a look that was just as stubborn as the chief’s own.

Who very much did not appreciate it.

“Harrington--”

“You said it yourself.” Steve interrupted, holding firm against the chief’s scowl. “The Upside Down isn’t something we screw around with.”

“Tell him, Steve!” Dustin crowed from the couch.

“Shut it.” Steve and Hopper responded in unison, and then did a remarkable job of pretending they hadn’t said a word.

(Gareth had the worst vision of Steve in an alternate life as a police officer. A deputy maybe, with shaved hair, constantly chewing on tobacco and fucking up poor people’s lives. He’d probably have an obnoxious nickname. Like Gator or some shit.

Thank God Hellfire had gotten there first.)

“I was there when they called Eddie.” Steve continued, before Hopper could growl something out. “If we were all doing drugs, we’d still be high, and Eddie wouldn’t have teeth marks in his thigh.”

There was yet another pause, in which Gareth was fairly sure the tension was going to give him a heart attack.

Within it, Hopper did a double take, noting Eddie’s injury for the first time--and how he only had one pant leg, the other replaced by a stark white bandage and pale skin.

“Fine.” He grit out, teeth clenched so tight Gareth thought they might shatter against each other. “Is there anything else I should know about the ‘goo story’ then?”

“You missed the part where El wouldn’t let us call you, because she felt you wouldn’t listen to her.” Mike snarked from El’s right.

“Wonder why.” Max added darkly, from her own spot on El’s left. “Don’t you have a walkie? Why didn’t you answer the code red?”

Apparently, they had decided Steve had won this entire exchange, and it was safe to dogpile on their own displeasure. Gareth was absolutely astounded that the glare Hopper turned their direction didn’t melt them all on the spot.

(Likely, given how this all seemed to be a normal encounter for everyone involved, they were used to it.

Gareth was very much not.)

Hopper whipped his head around to Mike, anger still simmering, “And I’m sure you, Michael Wheeler, didn’t have any qualms about not calling me.”

“He did not want me to go either.” El said bluntly. “I told him you would not listen, and if either of you stopped me, people would die.”

She nodded then, towards Stewart, as if to indicate he was one such person.

For the second time that night, Stewart pointed at his own chest, eyes saucer wide.

“No one else,” El finished grimly, “will die.”

The chief dragged his hands through his hair and then down his face.

“Alright.” He forced out. “I get your point-- but! We’re talking about how you went about this later. Not now!” He added, before the kids could erupt. “Later!”

“So what are we going to do about the Manticore?” Mike spat the question more so than he said it, but Gareth was happy someone was bringing that part up.

Because monster problem or not--what the fuck were they going to do about it?

Since the Chief of Police was here, did that mean the entire police force knew there were monsters in Hawkins? Was there some kind of--monster hunting squad that went around at night?

The more he thought about it the more questions he had, and in turn, the more Gareth’s anxiety threatened to mutiny once again, which was not helped by the concussion he was positive he’d acquired.

Hopper scoffed, “We are not doing anything. We are going back to bed after I call your parents and tell them you’ve been out all night!”

Groans filled the room, the sound of children facing a future grounding, en mass.

“Then,” he continued loudly, “I’ll call Owens.”

“And if Owens doesn’t do anything?” Dustin challenged. “‘Cause he clearly didn’t clean up well last time. Are we just going to let a manticore run around? What if more come through? What if--”

“Just because none of you trust me doesn’t mean I don’t do my job,” Hopper interrupted, “which includes knowing what to do if this shit came back. We adults did discuss that after last time, believe it or not.”

Gareth was old enough to school the doubt off his face, but the kids had no such qualms.

“What Hop means is that we need to have a little more faith in him.” Joyce soothed, and Gareth noticed that unlike a lot of adult men he’d been around, Hopper let her. “He’ll make sure it’s taken care of.”

“This just means we’re waiting until he falls in a hole again.” Mike stage whispered to Will, who coughed hard to hide his laugh.

“There aren’t any holes this time!” Hopper screeched, voice rising in pitch.

“Okay, okay, enough.” Joyce pacified, moving to stand in the middle of the room (notably,between the harpy children and Hopper). “What’s important is that everyone lived, we know there’s a thing in the lab, and that no one is going back for it until it’s dead. Agreed?”

She paused, and when no such agreements came, hardened her voice in a way that had every person under eighteen snapping to attention. “Agreed!?”

“Yes.” Chorused the children (and at least three members of Hellfire.)

“Good.” Joyce nodded so hard her hair bounced. Putting her hands on her hips, she added; “Now we start the process of getting all of you home.”

“Someone get me the phone, we’re starting with you Wheeler.” Hopper tacked on.

Mike just flung himself back into the couch with a dramatic eye roll and a not so subtle raise of his middle finger.

“As for the rest of you, get out.” Hopper said, weaving past Steve to get to the phone in the kitchen.

A second later, when it was clear no one had moved, he poked his head around the corner.

“Do I need to call all your parents too?” He demanded, as Hellfire dumbly stood there. “Get!”

Hellfire got.

xXx

Hopper grabbed Steve right before he’d left, muttering something about needing to talk to him and Jonathan.

Alone.

Eddie chose to hang back, propping himself on the van's hood, and Gareth, not wanting to go home, opted to keep him company

“Hopper’s not going to eat him.” He whispered, when two minutes dragged into seven and the fidgeting got to be too much for him.

“True, but he's catching hell because Hopper's not buying his story." Eddie retorted, voice equally hushed.

As if raising their voices might summon Hopper and his fiery temper right to them.

"It's nothing we haven't heard before," Gareth remarked, resisting the urge to suggest once more that Eddie get off his leg and go sit in the car.

“There weren't monsters before.” Eddie countered, mouth around a hangnail.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“It might.” Eddie muttered darkly. “If Hopper makes it matter, it fucking might.”

“How the hell is Hopper going to make it matter?" Gareth mused aloud, though deep down, he already knew.

Eddie was Hellfire's guardian, both within and beyond the school walls. Being with him meant having a shield to hide behind, protection against the casual cruelty the people of Hawkins were so fond of.

Sure, there were mean kids, nasty teachers, and even the occasional unpleasant gas station attendant, but they weren't the real issue—not by a long shot.

It was the ones who looked at Eddie and truly believed some of the bullshit.

Hopper didn’t act like the church folk. The ones who sent their pastors and youth leaders out on the warpath, knocking on doors and setting up outside of businesses.

Those individuals had attempted to drive away Eddie's friends before, thinking they could "rescue them" in the process—Gareth himself had once endured a week of being stalked by some idiot he had stood up to in Eddie's defense.

The man had made it his mission, and Gareth, too young at the time to know better, had felt helpless as every adult he turned to dismissed the blatant stalking.

All because that "nice" youth leader claimed he just wanted to help.

The asshole had practically hunted Gareth down-- always making himself known, always accompanied by a friend or two. A couple of little comments in his pocket, ready and waiting, and a grin that didn’t match his eyes.

The words he said weren’t threats, but the tone he said them in was.

Eddie got it worst of all of them though, when the church crowd started.

Their attention wasn’t always on him, and truthfully they hadn’t really put any real energy into their own bullshit for a few years now--but they always came back to him.

Like he was an old and favored chew toy, and if they just tried hard enough, they’d crack him in two.

Which meant this wasn’t about what Hopper said.

It’s what he could do.

Thankfully Steve appeared before Eddie could spiral further, looking surprised to see them still waiting.

“Oh.” He ran a hand through his hair as he came down the stairs. “You guys didn’t have to stay.”

Eddie shot him a flat look.

"And leave you alone with Hopper?"

"I wasn't exactly alone, but thanks."

Steve's smile was slight, tinged with relief, and Eddie fell right into him, leaning into Steve's space (and making a show of his limp as he did).

“We were going to ask if you’re coming back with us anyway. Figure you might not want to go back to your place after tonight.” He said, as if he and Gareth had discussed any such thing.

You waited outside just to tell me that?" Steve asked, a hint of amusement in his voice as he gently pushed Eddie back. "Ed, you should be sitting in your car, off that leg."

(Not that Steve wanted Eddie to go far, Gareth noted with his own amusement, as Steve stepped to follow.)

"I tried telling him that, but he wouldn't listen!" He tattled to Steve, simply because he could.

He got a middle finger behind Eddie’s back in retaliation.

“I figured it’d piss Hopper right off if I offered you a place to crash right after he warned you away from me.” Eddie said, ignoring the both of them.

“He didn’t warn me away.” Steve said, beginning the process of herding the older teen into his van.

Eddie let out a snort. "Seriously? That wasn't a full-blown 'rethink your life choices, hanging out with trash like him' speech?”

“You’re not trash.”

Eddie snorted again, hasher this time before glancing away.

He was entirely unprepared for Steve to reach out, catching him by the arm much the same way Hopper had caught him.

“Eddie.” Steve said, abruptly serious. “You’re not trash.”

He said it like he meant it, voice low, eyes drilling into Eddie’s.

Gareth couldn't tear his own eyes away, even though that stare wasn't even intended for him.

“No one here is trash,” Steve declared firmly. “Hopper was just asking if Jonathan and I could babysit El for a couple of nights while he’s working. But even if he had tried to tell me I couldn't hang out with you, I would have told him to shove it. Like you said earlier today—we don’t abandon our friends, and we don’t leave them to deal with stuff alone.”

Gareth knew his best friend like the back of his hand and that level of honesty?

It was too much for Eddie, and normally, he’d run.

Was in fact, a little more than infamous for bolting when confronted about his own insecurities.

Maybe it was because Eddie's leg was in no shape for him to run, or maybe it was the reassuring grip of Steve's hand on his arm. It could even have been the intensity in Steve's gaze, as if he could convince Eddie of anything just by staring at him--but Eddie didn’t move.

He didn't even avert his gaze, although Gareth half expected him to.

“If you say so.” He tried to sing-song the words but they fell flat. “Let’s go, the Munson couch awaits us.”

Steve didn’t say anything about how Eddie pulled himself away, backing out of range.

He watched him though.

Even after Eddie had turned around, waving a hand at Gareth to get into the drivers seat.

Steve kept watching until Gareth nudged him out of it, murmuring a quiet “Come on, dude” to get him going too.

Saw the little frown line burrow its way into Steve’s forehead, like he’d figured out part of a puzzle that had long evaded him, and didn’t like the answer he’d come too.

(Gareth himself didn’t have time for any such revelations, given he faced the monstrous task of driving Eddie’s van.

His learners permit quaked in his wallet at the mere thought, but somehow, they made it back in one piece anyway.)

xXx

Steve had reassured them that feeling restless was normal after….

Well.

After.

(There wasn’t a word strong enough to capture the intensity of the last few hours.

Gareth eventually stopped trying, accepting it as a blur of horror, anxiety, and impending dread. It felt like a nightmare that others remembered vividly but faded for him, like a movie becoming less real once you left the theater.)

Their conversation centered around going through the last few years, Steve filling in holes that made life make a hell of a lot more sense compared to all the bullshit the government had come up with.

None of it sounded real, and several pieces had Eddie and Gareth both gawking, but after the lab?

Not a part of it could be easily discounted.

Gareth couldn’t pinpoint when he finally succumbed to sleep.

Hadn’t intended too, and knew immediately upon clawing back to reality that his back was in a world of hurt from the way he’d curled into Wayne’s ancient armchair.

It was still dark outside, the lights warm on the inside of the trailer, and he figured he couldn’t have been out for long.

The blurry red 5:05 from his watch confirmed his suspicions, and Gareth got two seconds to wonder if this is his life now--catching whatever sleep he can in weird little bursts-- before harsh whispering picked up to his left.

The Munson’s living room was small. Small enough for Eddie to know better about how the sound carries, even if he was whisper-fighting.

Or at least, whisper-arguing, anyway.

“I just wish you’d see yourself the way everyone else sees you.” Steve was saying, sounding both bitchy and confused. Like he couldn’t quite believe he was having such a stupid conversation, but was going to point out the obvious anyway.

Eddie wasn’t doing much better, his words as sharp as the knife he’d used to stab the manticore.

“What, as the town freak? The local satanist? The ugly queer who's out to steal the children?”

Gareth managed to sneak a peak in time to see Eddie’s face twisted in disgust.

“Not those assholes--the ones that know you. Everyone that matters.” Steve countered, easily and immediately. “The Hellfire Club, Wayne, Dustin.”

There was a pause, but he could have sworn he heard Steve follow up with a quiet but hopeful, “Me.”

Gareth twisted ever so slightly, giving himself an eyeful of the room.

Both his friends sat on the couch facing each other. They were close, like they’d been sharing snacks or body heat before things had gone south, Eddie’s hands nearly missing smacking into Steve’s face as he gestured.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” Steve continued doggedly.

Eddie’s hands froze in air, before he could make whatever gesture he’d intended.

“What?”

“I said I’m sorry.” Steve repeated, that painful sincerity Gareth would have never guessed him capable of on full display. “For the part I played in calling you all that shit. You’re none of those things, Eddie. You’re the opposite of all of it.”

The hands dropped into Eddie’s lap, like twin birds shot out of the sky.

“I am, though.” He muttered.

Steve’s frown deepened, his reassurance quick. “No, you’re not.”

“Yeah, Steve. I am.”

“Okay, fine.” Angry, Steve leaned forward into Eddie’s space.

Backed into the side of the couch and wall as he was, it trapped Eddie quite nicely.

“I know the parents down at the church don’t know the difference between D&D and actual demons, but I do. So unless you suddenly learned how to be quiet about fucking ritual sacrifice of all things, then I refuse to buy that you’re a literal Satanist and not just engaging in the drama.”

Gareth saw the moment Eddie realized he was pinned, that he wasn’t getting out of his conversation without shoving Steve back.

Knew this was building into a blow up before Eddie’s mouth even opened.

“I’m not a Satanist, but I definitely am queer.” He shot back, eyes hard. “So you can shove whatever grand ideas you’re having about my character back up your ass.”

Gareth hadn’t moved much, years of living with his siblings making it possible to watch what’s happening without alerting anyone in the room that he was awake, but he almost ruined it with how quickly he sucked in his own breath.

Steve was a good guy.

Had been a good guy to them, but there have been plenty of other “good guys” Gareth knew who suddenly weren’t so great the second Eddie’s sexuality came up.

It’s why Gareth himself hadn’t often admitted to his own muddled sexuality, too afraid of getting the same bullshit aimed his way.

Why would anyone want to pursue men, after watching more than a few realize they liked Eddie and promptly lose their shit so hard they became a danger to any man who so much as looked at them the wrong way?

It was terrifying--and so was the realization that Gareth can’t kick Steve’s ass. 

He doesn’t want to even try, but gets himself ready for emotional upheaval anyway--and whatever may come after.

Even if they’re all dead on their feet from fighting a literal monster.

‘Excellent fucking timing Eds.’ He thought sourly, despite the guilt of thinking it. It’s not Eddie’s fault--and Steve’s reaction, whatever it may be, isn’t either.

'God does it suck to be gay in a rural ass, small town.'

Thankfully, Steve doesn’t pull away.

Doesn’t act like Eddie’s got a contagious disease like some of the basketball team does, or like it’s his God given duty to either rid the earth of him now that Eddie’s finally admitted to what half the town has accused him of being, or have some violent crisis over his own clearly repressed gay crush. 

Is still very much in Eddie’s space, even if he’s being awfully quiet--for long enough that Gareth can see Eddie start to shut down.

“Okay.” Steve said finally, clearly knowing he needs to say something but seemingly struggling to figure out what, “But you’re not evil, and you’re definitely not stealing children, so you’re beating out the US government.”

“Oh boy, I beat out the government that’s kidnapping and torturing people! Such a high bar.”

Steve winced. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Yeah? What did you mean then?” Eddie challenged. “We both know you’re not the kind to want to associate with the queers.”

“I didn't, I--” Steve took a breath, fumbling and knowing it. “I know I've been an asshole in the past, and I also know I was wrong."

He stared hard at Eddie. "I don’t care if you’re gay. That doesn’t, that shouldn’t--matter.”

Eddie met his gaze. 

“I don’t believe you.” 

Between them sat all the times Steve, or a former friend of his, decided a random victim was queer. The knowing smirks and taunts that followed after they spewed out various slurs.

How some of the rumors they started stuck around. 

Steve had never really engaged with a lot of the bullying people often attributed to him as King of the Jockstraps, but he wasn't an innocent bystander either, and Gareth couldn't fault Eddie for challenging that change of heart. 

Even now, after Steve had long vacated his throne. 

“Well that sucks for you then, doesn’t it?” Steve snapped. “Because I’m not going anywhere, Munson. You can mack on some dude all you like, and I’m still going to be there to remind you you’re not evil for doing it. Or for being into nerdy shit and terrible music!”

“My music isn’t terrible!” Eddie screeched automatically.

Gareth anticipated Eddie calling out Steve on his obvious bait—seriously, that wouldn’t have worked in a game even with a nat 20—but found himself underestimating Steve's bantering skills as their ex-jock just plowed right ahead.

“It is! It’s just--screaming. Screaming with loud ass guitars!”

“Oh my God, I am going to sit you down and make you listen to so many albums. The screaming is a core part of the range of emotions in the songs--”

“Range? Eddie there isn’t any range, it’s just dudes who are angry--”

“Fuck you, it is not!” Eddie was howling, both of them too into their argument to remember they were trying to be quiet to begin with.

“I bet you five dollars! Five entire dollars, that you could not find me a singular song I like out of your entire metal collection.”

“Ten dollars! And the largest Pizza this shithole town has to offer!”

“Deal!” Steve shouted, chest heaving.

They breathed together for a moment, before the tension between them fizzled out, fading into something more uncertain.

Delicate, even though Gareth was fairly certain Steve had expertly maneuvered Eddie right where he wanted him.

Eddie seemed to realize it too, folding back into himself as he tugged a finger around his hair, pulling it in front of his face.

“You really wouldn't care if I kissed a guy in front of you?” Eddie's question isn't overtly vulnerable, but Gareth knows better.

He understands the significance of this.

Of Steve’s acceptance, more than anyone else's.

The jock had become so deeply bonded to them—all of them—that the rejection would wound Eddie in a way few could truly understand. Crack his otherwise impenetrable shield, the ricochet tearing through a substantial portion of his resilience.

“And I'd probably tell you to find a room, but hey, I said that to Tommy and Carol too,” Steve retorts, nudging Eddie's thigh.

Eddie rewards him with a small smile

Steve seems to know more is needed, and offers it up right alongside his heart. “I’m serious. I know I kinda butchered it but--the queer thing shouldn’t be a problem to begin with. It’s stupid that it is.”

"Steven Harrington, did I just witness personal growth?" Eddie teased, his smile widening. "What's next, admitting that college sports are ridiculous?"

“Don’t be a dick,” Steve scoffed, but his own smile mirrored Eddie’s as he looked away. 

Despite his head still partly tucked into his arm, Gareth found himself grinning.

It was a welcome relief after an otherwise horrific night.

Sensing it was now or never, Gareth made a show of untangling himself, stretching upward with a moan that startled both Eddie and Steve.

“Be careful saying that shit, Steve,” He said, jerking a thumb towards his best friend. “He’ll take it as an invitation to make out with people in front of you.”

Eddie gasped, hand flying over his heart in mock offense.

“I would never!”

“He’s a real horndog, once he even tried to make out with a guy on stage on top of my drumset.” Gareth continued, sticking out his tongue.

He deserved the pillow thrown his way but Gareth took the hit with grace, laughing as Eddie huffed at him.

“For the last time I wasn’t making out with that guy, he was trying to punch me!”

“With his mouth?”

“With his head, which you damn well know."  Eddie accused, clawing blindly for another pillow. "Gareth you are shameless, how long have you been listening in!?”

“As much as I enjoy the calming effects of mindless screaming, I'd wager it was when you guys conveniently forgot I was in the room."

“I take it you uh, know?” Steve injected hesitantly, eyes moving between Eddie and Gareth and oh--oh, he was being protective.

'That’s cute.' Gareth thinks.

Even if he’s rolling his eyes at the very idea that he posses any kind of threat.

“Dude, I clocked Eddie before he clocked me.” He said, just to take some heat from Eddie--and because it was one of the few opportunities where he could say it. “We’ve spent many a math period discussing if Sting was hotter than Axl Rose.”

If Eddie can be brave, Gareth could too.

“You did not.” Eddie spits back, the offense mounting. “You absolutely did not clock me first you lying liar--”

“Oh.” Steve blinked, finger flicking out between them as if he’s connected two dots and feels awfully stupid about not seeing it before. “I uh, I didn’t, are you guys--”

And oh, the horror that crashes into Gareth when he figured out what Steve was asking.

“No! God no.” Gareth shuddered, delighting in the way Eddie’s jaw crashed down at the sight. “And if I ever consider it, I need you to take me out back and shoot me, Steve. Right between the eyes, for the greater good.”

“Wow Gary, just stick a knife in my back why don’t you--”

“I’m gonna be real,” Steve cut in, before they could fake-argue their way into a real fight, “I never actually thought about liking both. Guys and girls, I mean.”

He blushed, as both Gareth and Eddie turned to look at him.

“Oh Stevie,” Eddie cooed, “there are so many more options than just "liking both.”

He made air quotes with his fingers, attention immediately diverted away from murdering Gareth with whatever objects he could grab. 

Steve gave him a side eye that was more than well deserved.

“I feel like I don’t want to know.” He said flatly.

“Too late.” Gareth told him, resigned. “You get to hear the speech now.”

“There’s a speech?”

“Steve, it's me. Of course there’s a speech.” Eddie tutted, resettling himself on the couch so that he’s sitting cross legged. “It’s an hour long so strap yourself in big guy, we have a lot of ground to cover!”

Crisis firmly averted, Gareth curls back up in the chair, tired smile on his face as Steve and Eddie go right back to bantering, the tension having vanished from the room.

This is a rare outcome, given their life and the world they live in, but one Gareth’s incredibly thankful for.

Can’t quite believe it, but then, King Steve had surprised a lot of them ever since he’d hung up his crown.

Perhaps Hellfire was a good influence on people after all.

xXx

Bonus

Back at the Byers, outside on the front porch, Hopper and Joyce were arguing over a cigarette.

(They both believe they’re being very quiet about it, but the pillow Jonathan had jammed over his ears said otherwise.)

“Remind me to make you work on your approach with disciplining children.” Joyce was saying, as she snatched the cigarette out of Hopper’s hands.

“What?! I thought that went pretty well considering they broke back into the lab and almost killed themselves.” He responded, waiting until she’d taken a deep inhale before trying to get it back.

“And I’m sure taking potshots at the poorest kid in the room was a necessary part of that process. It’s probably written down in the police handbook, even.”

“I wasn’t taking potshots Joyce--”

“No, of course not, you were just throwing random criticism and assumptions around, willy nilly and--oh, wait, that’s the exact definition of a potshot--”

“He deals drugs! Look me in the eyes and tell me Munson doling out weed doesn’t make more sense then the lot of them chasing down some--some goo story!?”

There’s a weighty pause, in which one can only imagine Joyce Byers face says more words than her mouth ever could.

It was very impactful.

“I mean--okay, maybe not our kids, but the teenagers?” Hopper’s voice dives into a disbelieving kind of whine, reserved for those who are aware the point they’re arguing may in fact, be wrong, but are desperately defending it anyway. “Come on. Drugs is the clear answer!" 

“Even if that was what was happening, then you shouldn’t be discussing it in a room full of children who have survived what those kids have, Jim. It could have been a separate conversation, given in a much calmer and less threatening tone of voice.”

“Oh my God, Joyce--”

“Don’t you ‘oh my God!’ me, you asked for lessons on being a better parent and I am holding you to them!”

There’s a brief scuffle over the cigarette, as both seem to realize Joyce is letting it smoke out in her hand.

She does not stop talking however, even as their hands slap at each other. 

“That includes parenting the teenagers in this town, because in case you haven’t noticed, you’re the Chief of police! So you signed up to see them all at their worst, and you get to deal with the fallout of that!”

“Fine! Fine. I’ll apologize to the goddamn high school drug dealer. Is that what you want!?”

“Yes!”

Another pause, this one filled with that awkward sort of tension when an argument has fizzled out, and neither party knows quite where they stand with each other yet.

“What voice am I supposed to use?” Hopper mused, finally winning the bid for the cigarette and jamming it into his mouth.

“Anyone except the grumbly bear voice.”

“The grumbly bear voice?”

“You know,” Joyce drops her own voice in a comical rendition of Hopper’s, “How dare you kids run off! You’ll be the death of me and this town!”

She laughs, and Hopper, shockingly, laughs along with her.

“I don’t sound like that.” He defends, bumping Joyce gently with his shoulder, and she in return, bumps him right back.

Both of them grinning, both of them blushing a little.

They keep talking, the cigarette eventually put aside and forgotten as they do.

Truth be told, they hadn’t needed it--but the excuse was nice.

(Inside, Jonathan rolled the pillow on top of his face in a suffocation attempt, unsure of what he’d done in life to deserve all this but desperately wishing he didn’t have to listen to his mother flirt.

Or worse--Hop flirting back.)

#AaJ #adopt a jock #steddie #0o0 fanfics #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #gareth emerson #pre steddie #hellfire club #joyce/hopper #Gareth: “If I had a nickel for every time Eddie and Steve have woken me up #by yelling confessions at each other #I'd have two nickels. Which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice.” #Jeff #thinking through an entire montage of Eddie waking people up by screaming things #c he can't regulate his volume for shit: “You cannot be serious #we'd have at least fifteen dollars.”

[thenwethrowitonthefire]

Shout-out to everyone who survived a "fun" easter with the family

#fucking hell #it started with finding out my dad smoked in my car when I picked up my sister #who was equally dreading the day #my mum turns into the world's tensest and judgemental presence. worsened by my aunt #then hell for autistic people (of which there are multiple present) #multiple deaf people means one uninspired conversation that isn't interesting in any way. #combinations of passive aggressiveness and people not saying a thing because they can't participate. voice volumes too damn high #weirdass food situations. Very full table. so many smells. #this goes on for over an hour. wishing for literally anything but being there. soul crushing. #then you still have to sit in that room for 2.5 hours. it just goes on and on. #my autistic deaf dad physically looks like how I feel. my mum and aunt keep piling on top of him to demand his mental presence #i leave the room once (to get my phone to show pictures to my uncle) and am immediately followed upstairs by my mum #who demands I don't leave the room (What's next. following me when I need the toilet?) #me and my sister are so bored we start throwing paper planes and fake fighting. #Which amuses the bored and the deaf #but of course my mum and aunt have opinions and this is not allowed. only soul crushing boredom allowed #they complain to each other over it while aggressively doing dishes #finally it ends because my mum and aunt start insisting my dad should go to bed if he's 'that tired'. *sprinkle on some additional ableism* #still sitting through a conversation about allergies one of my sister's friends has. my mum preaching that people should take that seriously #(meanwhile i had to cook for myself for 9 years because when my allergies were really bad no one bothered to check if i could eat something) #me and my sister go sit upstairs to discover our mum has made things we care about vanish in her room #and made things appear that should not be there #I've washed the interior of my car and hope the smell will go #you think it's over after that. but woke up with the realisation that even more things have disappeared from my sister's room. #i can't remember a time when things left outside of my room didn't disappear #I don't know why we do these family gatherings at all. no one has fun on days like that. #the housing crisis isn't making these things easy. my sister is losing her place to live again as well #she'll go hiking for a month and then work on a campsite over the summer #maybe I'll go house sitting again. idk. #can't make commitments a few months in advance like that because I'll cancel everything the second Sparks announces anything important

[jjunieworld]

don’t delete the kisses ｡ﾟ🎶 ⋆₊

pairing: choi beomgyu x fem!reader

genre: angst, smut, ex-bestfriends to lovers, ex bff!beomgyu, musician!beomgyu, mutual (unknown) pining, fluff if you squint, non-idol!au, alcohol/drinking

synopsis: two years ago, you admitted to yourself that you were in love with your bestfriend beomgyu. two years ago, you and your bestfriend beomgyu stopped being bestfriends. now he’s an up and coming musician and you see his face and hear his music almost everywhere in your local city; not knowing that the songs he writes are about you.

warnings: tipsy sex (consensual), soft sex basically, lots of yearning, unprotected sex (wrap it then tap it), oral (f. rec), kinda service top!beomgyu, slight overstimulation (m. rec), beomgyu is really just catering to y/n, some hair pulling (m. rec), multiple orgasms, creampie, petnames (baby), aftercare

word count: 9.3k┊v-day event masterlist┊masterlist

a/n: based off don’t delete the kisses by wolf alice and part three of my v-day event! i didn’t mean for this to be 9.3k omg. be glad i didn’t have the party hosted by jackson wang lmao.. sorry if the lyrics are kinda bad i am nawt a songwriter (there’s no like certain tune to them so reading them regularly is fine)! this beomgyu is the one i was imagining in this (he’s sooo fucking pretty). i hope you enjoy! ♡

two years ago, you admitted to yourself that you were in love with your bestfriend beomgyu.

it was a jarring realization; realizing that you’ve been harboring these slowly growing feelings for him all this time. it was as if one day the house was empty and the next all of the furniture and decorations were displayed and put up. like beomgyu had lived in the recesses of your mind all this time and you’ve never even known.

your acceptance was gradual, mainly because you had buried yourself in your studies along with beomgyu so you didn’t spend as much time together as you both would have wanted. he was studying music, his passion since before you’ve even known him, and you were studying writing. beomgyu was working on his debut ep and you were working on your debut novel.

you had noticed it when you started to realize how much the love interest in your novel reminded you of him. and then how much of your love interest actually was beomgyu, down to similarities in their physical description. it was a moment that beomgyu himself was present for, surprisingly.

beomgyu was sitting on your couch, strumming chords lightly and humming softly to himself as he polished up one of the songs he was writing. you were in the corner of the room at your desk, proofreading the chapter you had just written. a gasp had left your lips as you stared wide eyed at the bright white screen in front of you.

the strumming abruptly stopped as beomgyu turned to you, “what is it?” you bit down on your bottom lip as you read the paragraph over and over again. you saw him shift in the corner of your eye and knew he was about to come and see for himself. quickly, you changed the tab to the one that held your outline. “it’s nothing,” you turned, smiling over at him. “just realized that i accidentally created a huge plot hole…” beomgyu chuckled before returning back to his song.

that night, you had read over everything you’ve written so far in a flurry. beomgyu was everywhere in your novel. from the main character to the side characters to the love interest. there was no escaping him.

“shit,” you muttered as you trailed a hand down your face, throwing your laptop onto your bed as you got up to get a drink from the kitchen. tiptoeing past beomgyu’s room in your shared apartment, you reached the kitchen quietly, hopeful that you didn’t somehow wake him.

turns out that was pointless since beomgyu was leaning against the counter, eyes trained on you. you jumped and threw a hand against your chest. “why aren’t you asleep?!” you whisper-yelled, even though there was no need since it was only the two of you in the apartment. beomgyu grinned, putting the cup he was holding to his lips, “why aren’t you?” he spoke softly as well and you walked over to join him.

beomgyu shined hazily in the orange stove light and you took a sip from the glass of alcohol you poured as you looked at him. the two of you stood there for a moment, quietly taking in each other’s presence.

“so why are you awake? it’s almost four in the morning,” beomgyu asked quietly as he broke the silence. you looked towards the living room and took another sip from your glass. “i was proofreading… you?” you asked, looking back to him. “songwriting,” beomgyu responded. you hummed, nodding a little. “wanna hear what i have so far?” he then asked. you nodded more and he led you to his room.

beomgyu’s laptop was open on his bed, all kinds of cords connected to it. his guitar was strewn across it, like he had tossed it on his bed haphazardly in frustration. beomgyu picked the guitar up and sat it back on it’s stand near the wall. sitting on his bed, he patted the spot next to him so you could join. then, he put the headphones over your head and pressed play on his laptop.

music traveled through your ears. it was just the instrumental, but already you could tell how beautiful the song was gonna be. you looked over at him, a proud smile on your face when suddenly you heard his voice. it was only soft background vocals, the ones that you could barely make out, but it sounded heavenly. when the music ended, your smile stretched from ear to ear and you raised your hands to cover it. “that was beautiful, beomgyu! seriously!”

he gave you an unsure look, “is it? i’m not really sure about it. i feel like it might mess with the flow of the ep…” you shook your head rapidly, the headphones almost coming off. “no you have to keep it, it’s amazing! it’s gonna be even better once you add your voice.”

beomgyu beamed as he took in your words. “i gotta hear it again,” you grinned, pressing play on the laptop. you faintly heard beomgyu’s laugh behind the music.

you would give anything for all of your nights—or early mornings—to be exactly like this. the two of you here together, side by side. laughing together and sharing your passions together. to stay with beomgyu until the very end.

two years ago, you and your bestfriend beomgyu stopped being bestfriends.

just like you admitting and realizing your feelings for him, it was sudden. as sudden as storm clouds slowly passing over the sky and the fury of rain could be. it was late morning and the two of you were on your couch; beomgyu’s guitar in his lap and you sitting next to him as he strummed. he was playing one of the finished songs he had written, the one he had written for you. beomgyu had called it ‘graze.’

“her hair glowed in the sunlight as she grazed past me; like a leaf on a tree branch of a tree i’ll never see. over the canopy, it’s each other that we always seem to miss. when the darkness seals me in it’s cold maze, she sends me her remembrances in the form of a kiss,” you sung the lyrics together. beomgyu smiled warmly at you.

beomgyu had given you some insight into the lyrics he had written. the first part, “her hair glowed in the sunlight as she grazed past me; like a leaf on a tree branch of a tree i’ll never see. over the canopy, it’s each other that we always seem to miss,” was about the day you had first spoken. it was senior year of highschool and the two of you were paired together on a project. you were meeting somewhere to work on it, but you accidentally walked past the meeting place, completely passing by beomgyu unaware.

the next part, “when the darkness seals me in it’s cold maze, she sends me her remembrances in the form of a kiss,” is when the two of you had gotten close; close enough to share secrets and comfort each other through the thoughts they consumed. everytime the two of you texted, you would end the conversation off with an ‘xxx.’ kisses. it had become your thing with beomgyu, so much so that he wrote it into his song.

when the song had ended, beomgyu suddenly perked up. “let me show you the song i’ve been working on! the one i showed you the other day,” he exclaimed. he started strumming chords, humming softly as he began the song. “i only have, like, one lyric for it right now,” he interjected as he continued strumming.

“too powerful to overtake, oh, you’ve grown all over my mind…” beomgyu sang to the tune of his guitar. your smile faltered, but you managed to put it back in tact as beomgyu glanced up from his guitar to ask for your opinion. it was a love song he was writing. a love song for someone that wasn’t you.

“it’s beautiful, like all of your songs are. i like the new addition! how long have you been working on it?” you smiled, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. beomgyu began to blush as he turned to set his guitar aside, moving his hair over his ears. the tips of them were red. “for a little bit now. i just can’t seem to find the words of the feelings i want to convey,” he replied.

your glass heart shattered, it’s pieces making its way into your bloodstream. piercing pieces dug into beomgyu’s skin. “who’s the lucky person?” you asked, swallowing hard. he turned back to you and smirked. “just someone i’ve known for a while... i think we’re really starting to hit it off!”

after that day, you started to distance yourself from beomgyu. at first, it was only your feelings. limiting the amount of times you touched in any way or adding space between your bodies when you were near each other. then, it was almost as if the two of you were strangers living in the same place.

beomgyu had definitely noticed. you could feel his lingering look at the back of your neck. hear his questions in the air that hangs between you. but your feelings just wouldn’t go away. maybe they were right when they said that distance makes the heart grow fonder.

you locked yourself in your room, working on and rewriting your book over and over again. trying—and failing horribly—to remove beomgyu from the caverns of it. nothing worked, but you were desperate.

one day, beomgyu was playing his guitar a little too loud while you were in your room writing. usually, this wouldn’t be a problem at all. beomgyu always made sure not to be too noisy when you were writing, even though you always told him how much it helped you to have the background music. but this time, this time was different.

you were frustrated, agitated, still deep in love, and still deep in the great unreciprocated. you had flung your door open and stormed into the living room where he was playing and yelled at him to stop.

beomgyu looked up at you with wide, shocked eyes. it was dead silent for a moment, not even the sound of your breathing was heard. too late you realized what you had done. silently, beomgyu collected his things and made his way to his room, not sparing you a single glance or even a murmur. you watched him, an apology, an excuse on your lips.

the next day after you came home from researching at the library, you found a single note from him that was left on the kitchen counter. “i can’t live here with a stranger anymore,” was all it said. finally, you noticed how empty the apartment looked. how empty it looked for a while now. beomgyu was gone, and it was all your fault.

today, you could barely walk the streets of your city without seeing his face or hearing his music.

“UP AND COMING!” the article’s title had read as they delved into an interview with your former best friend. you pushed the laptop away, even after these two years apart you couldn’t face him. not even through a screen. couldn’t face how you tore your friendship apart because you couldn’t control your own feelings. maybe love just wasn’t meant for you.

you heard a sigh from next to you. “just read it!” your friend, yeonjun, drawled. “you’re mentioned.” you let out a sigh yourself with a roll of your eyes as you grabbed the laptop. “if i’m mentioned, it’s not gonna be something good.”

you scrolled down the article until you got to the part where beomgyu got interviewed. most of the questions were about his debut album and upcoming tour. you haven’t listened to any of his songs since he released his ep. hearing his voice was just too much. your eyes stopped on a question that mentioned one of the songs from his debut ep; your song.

Q. one of your more, if not most, popular song is a song called ‘graze.’ can you give us some input into what the song is about? how you came up with it? BEOMGYU: i actually had written the song for someone who i was very close to at the time. originally, the song was about the dynamics of our friendship. but as things change, so did the meaning of the lyrics. speaking of the lyrics, when i wrote the song i had come up with them first and the rest just kinda flowed after that. it was the first song that i had finished for my ep, and the one i was most proud of. i’m really happy that a lot of people enjoy the song!

you inhaled sharply at his answer. “but as things change, so did the meaning of the lyrics.” you weren’t expecting him to hold fondness for you after everything, after all this time, but his response did sting.

Q. you mentioned how the meaning of the song lyrics changed, does that tie into the title of the song? was ‘graze’ a double meaning this whole time? BEOMGYU: i guess you could say that! there wasn’t a double meaning at the beginning, but alas… to graze means to be scraped lightly in passing, to break the surface of the skin. but it also means to touch, to caress. to slightly damage or to gently touch.

Q. it also means to take in small quantities at frequent, did you know that? BEOMGYU: i didn’t! see how meanings can change!

blinking the tears brimming in the corner of your eyes away, you look back over to yeonjun. he looked at you with eyebrows raised and you shrugged at him. what did he want you to say? that you missed him? you did. that you wish things were different between the two of you? you do. what is that going to change?

“he mentioned the song he wrote! for you!” yeonjun exclaimed. you shrugged again, “he mentioned the song he wrote for someone he used to be close with. like he said, things change.” yeonjun groaned as he fell into the pillows on your bed.

shortly after beomgyu had moved out, you moved into a smaller, one bedroom apartment. it was eating away at you inside looking at how empty and lifeless your apartment you had shared with beomgyu looked. you couldn’t take how everywhere you looked, a memory of the two of you followed.

“he’s having a show at the arena downtown. we’re going,” yeonjun stated. your eyes widened and you furiously shook your head. “no… no i can’t.” two years and you crossed the street if there was a poster of him up next to the sidewalk. two years and you went everywhere with headphones, music blasting in your ears to cover his playing softly throughout the city. you couldn’t see him face to face. couldn’t watch as his smile faltered and his eyes lost their emotion as he looked at you.

yeonjun reached into his pocket and pulled out two tickets, “it’s too late, i already got the tickets. i can’t watch anymore as the two of you avoid each other. it’s been two years and not once have i seen the both of you in the same room let alone on the same block.” you put your face into your hands as you leaned over onto the bed, groaning loudly.

somehow you forgot that beomgyu and yeonjun were also friends. close friends at that. the two of them were friends before you and beomgyu were. you wanted to curse at the sky. “and don’t even try to find some way out of it either. i will drag you there kicking and screaming if i have to.” yeonjun added.

“but i have to finish writing my bo—“ you started before yeonjun swiftly cut you off. “it’s this weekend, so you have the whole week to prepare yourself.”

when you were alone that night in the comforting isolation of your bedroom, you let yourself scroll through your old messages with beomgyu. let your eyes wander over the ‘xxx’ at the end of your messages. you fingers moved on their own as they began typing out a message.

old apologies, old excuses. you had the nerve to add ‘xxx’ at the end like the two of you were still who you once used to be. you deleted the kisses at the end, deleted the message altogether. it’s not that you would ever send it anyways.

you thought about how your life would be if you and beomgyu weren’t strangers now. if you were more than best friends, getting to know each other again. you imagined late nights of you taking him out to bars in celebration of his new releases. pressing proud kisses to his lips as the alcohol and your love warmed the both of your bodies. shaking your head to yourself, you pushed the thoughts away. no use in daydreaming.

the damning beat of your heart got louder and louder the closer you and yeonjun got to the arena. the closer and closer you got to beomgyu. at the rate your heart was going, the sheer loudness would create a guilty beat for everyone to sing along to.

you handed in your tickets and made your way to the floor. when you read the tickets and saw that they were for the floor, you almost killed yeonjun. you thought you could be sly and sit somewhere in the seats, somewhere where beomgyu wouldn’t have a high possibility of seeing you. you were wrong.

yeonjun grabbed your wrist and pulled you close to the stage. when he tried to pull you right up against the barricade, you pulled away from him and he sighed. the two of you settled close to the stage, but not so close that you’d be touching noses with beomgyu. a compromise.

the lights had dimmed and the crowd had filed in until it was jam packed in the arena. your heart couldn’t help but swell with pride. he did it, he really did. he achieved the one thing he wanted the most, and you couldn’t be prouder of him for it.

the band came on stage and the crowd erupted with cheers and screams from all around you. you looked over to yeonjun, who was cheering along with them. you laughed, the sound being covered, but still there nonetheless. everything only got louder when beomgyu stepped onto the stage. you swear the girl next to you almost passed out.

when you saw him, the spotlight illuminating him—making him look like all of the stars in the sky, it was as if it was only the two of you in the room. the crowd of people around you faded and your breath hitched when he started to look over the crowd with a big warm smile. your face heated and you looked away, hiding so he wouldn’t see you. it’s been a while since you’ve done that.

what were you doing here? what was yeonjun thinking? that he would see you in the crowd and everything would fall into place? that he would call your name and the crowd would part as you made your way to the stage? that he’d take your hand and kiss you in front of everyone, in front of the whole world to see? what a stupid thought.

you wanted to leave but you were trapped from all sides. beomgyu sat on the chair that was placed in the center of the stage, his one and only guitar on his knee that you’ve become so accustomed to. “how is everyone doing tonight? well, i hope!” he said, strumming the strings of his guitar lightly. the crowd erupted again, words barely audible.

shaking your head, you grabbed yeonjun’s arm. “i can't do this, yeonjun. i want to go home.” he turned to you with furrowed eyebrows of worry. the girl next to you gave you an ear to ear smile, “i know right? isn’t he just so dreamy!” in turn, you gave her a barely disguised grimace and turned back to yeonjun. yeonjun laughed at your reaction, “get over it! let him sing to you! we’re staying.” he turned back to the stage and you realized that beomgyu had already began playing a song.

not just any song, the song that he wrote for you. he was singing ‘graze.’ yeonjun smirked at you and you’ve realized you’ve fallen into his trap. vaguely, you remembered that beomgyu always started out his shows with the song he had written for you. you wanted to use his guitar to bash your head in.

“her hair glowed in the sunlight as she grazed past me; like a leaf on a tree branch of a tree i’ll never see. over the canopy, it’s each other that we always seem to miss. when the darkness seals me in it’s cold maze, she sends me her remembrances in the form of a kiss,” beomgyu sang softly to the tune of his guitar. the live band behind him made the song more layered, in a way you haven’t heard since you’ve first heard the finished song.

“under newborn stars, we bear witness, we watched it all begin. i feel the heat of mars, my worn guitar, like her fingers against my skin,” beomgyu continued the song, the crowd singing along with him. you felt glassy tears in your eyes, threatening to fall. you couldn’t open your mouth to sing, not after all of the circumstances, so your heart sang for you. it was quiet, left only for the empty cathedrals of your ribs to echo back to you.

once he stopped singing, the music continued for a moment, letting everyone take in the song. beomgyu closed his eyes against the bright lights, his hands resting on the edge of his guitar. just as the song ended he opened them, an emotion you couldn’t quite make out in his eyes.

“now, for this next one, it took me a long time to write. two years in fact,” beomgyu spoke as he looked around at the crowd, a slight laugh in his tone. his eyes had just missed yours on his journey and you reeled back slightly in shock, looking up at him with wide eyes. “i just couldn’t seem to find the words to the feelings i wanted to convey. but luckily for you all, i managed to find them,” beomgyu smiled as he adjusted his guitar. “this one’s called ‘tattoos on strangers.’”

those words sounded strangely familiar. out of the corner of your eye, you saw yeonjun look over at you as the crowd cheered. you couldn’t even move to look back at him, to ask why he was staring. you were entirely focused on beomgyu. on the way he looked around the crowd with twinkling love in his eyes. the way he fiddled with his guitar like he was antsy to let the music flow out of him. it entranced you, dazzled you, entrapped you.

beomgyu inhaled sharply, the sound catching in the mic in front of him, as he strummed the chords of one of his songs you’ve never heard before. “we’re two moths to a burning flame; they call us icarus. now all that’s left between our bodies is the sinking bitterness. our eyes are on the sky, the lies we tell each other are to blame.” you gasped at how heavenly he sounded. at the melodic symphonies he was creating. at how familiar yet so unfamiliar the song sounded to you.

there was a beat as the live band picked up volume. “we’re waltzing together, we’ve gone too far. but we can’t help ourselves, we’re sinful, we’re brand new burning stars. gravity is starting to pull us closer and closer, you say it’s starting to lead to our demise. but don’t worry, baby, our silence—the heaviness between us, will be the disguise,” beomgyu continued. his eyes were squeezed shut as he sang. it made you wonder who he intended the song to be for if he was reacting this way.

“there’s no need to apologize, we’ve witnessed this before, i know your true name. like the ink of a tattoo, you linger, you graze the recesses of my brain. too powerful to overtake, oh, you’ve grown all over my mind. don’t delete the kisses at the end, just kiss me instead—just this one time,” beomgyu sang as the song came to an end. suddenly it was as if a light switch lit up the dark room in your brain, a certain lyric ringing bells inside.

“too powerful to overtake, oh, you’ve grown all over my mind,” you understood why the song sounded familiar to you. it was the song beomgyu was working on right before the two of you stopped being bestfriends. another thought hit you so hard that you stumbled back into the person behind you and yeonjun gave you another worried look. you stared back at him, eyes wide open.

two lyrics stood out to you, “like the ink of a tattoo, you linger, you graze the recesses of my brain,” and “don’t delete the kisses at the end, just kiss me instead—just this one time.” you turned to look back up at beomgyu, just as he started singing another song. his eyes were traveling the crowd and at that moment, his eyes connected with yours. they widened and he started to blink rapidly for a second, like he couldn’t believe that you were looking at him.

at the same time, both of your eyes traveled to yeonjun, who in turn gave a sheepish smile. he set the two of you up. desperately you wanted to leave, but yeonjun’s hand around your wrist and the crowd wouldn’t let you.

‘graze’, you knew for a fact was for you, but ‘tattoos on strangers’? there was no denying that he wrote the song about you, down to the referencing lyrics. down to the “don’t delete the kisses at the end.” oh god, you thought, oh god. this whole time… this whole time, he was singing about you. he was singing about you when you thought he was singing about someone else and you ruined it. you ruined everything.

suddenly, it was getting hard to breathe with everyone around you and with beomgyu’s eyes on you. he tried hard to make it look like he wasn’t singling you out, but every couple seconds his eyes would lock on you again. you had no choice but to sit and endure. endure his stare, the slight wildness in his look. endure all the songs from his debut album that you never heard; all of which were about you. all of them. endure the way his heart called out to yours, echoing through his songs, and the way yours called back.

your eyes connect once more—just for the briefest of moments—before you looked away, shyness taking over. your face—no, your whole body—felt like it was on fire. just like a brand new burning star. you felt like all eyes were on you, when in reality all eyes were on him.

finally, you looked up again as he announced the last song in the setlist—‘forethought.’ your eyes meet just as he sings, his eyes only on you, “oh, i hear her voice in the wind sometimes. has she given me any thought? i go back to the pastimes—like wind chimes, it’s not all for naught. my wet knees in the winter, it’s my hopeful crime, it’s my savior... it’s my desperate prayer, i scream out her name into the dying nature—it leads me out the maze so i’m with her. it’s a stranded forethought.” you feel tears well up into your eyes and you see tears well up in beomgyu’s too, hidden by the bright lights to the crowd, but not to you. never to you.

after a moment, he repeats with eyes closed in a silent plea, “don’t linger, don’t linger, light bringer, don’t linger. stay with me—send me your remembrances. please, don’t delete those kisses. don’t linger, light bringer. don’t linger.” the tears fall freely from your eyes at the way his voice softly echoes. echoes just like wind chimes in the blowing wind. you feel yeonjun pull you into a hug as a sob escapes your lips.

you don’t register the concert ending, the crowd getting smaller and smaller until there’s only a few stragglers. you move numbly as yeonjun pulls you along behind him. it’s not until you hear a familiar voice, beomgyu’s voice, that you suddenly come back to life.

yeonjun has taken you backstage. the two of you were making your way over to where beomgyu was standing, talking to someone you didn’t recognize, as he packed up his guitar. again, your eyes met, and you pulled your wrist from yeonjun’s grasp. you turned, wild eyes scanning for an exit as your feet moved without needing your input. “y/n, wait!” you heard voices from behind you. you kept going, the fear pushing you forwards faster.

it wasn’t until you were in front of the night bus, voices behind you as you pushed whatever money you had into the bus driver's hands, that you finally felt like you could breathe. the doors closed and the bus began moving as beomgyu and yeonjun ran up waving frantically. the bus kept moving. you looked through the window, terrified wide eyes reflecting back to you in the glass, at their fading figures. at beomgyu’s dejected eyes and yeonjun’s sorrowful ones. at the breaking of your heart, once again.

sighing heavily to yourself, you faced the front of the bus. what has gotten into you? why would you let yourself think that beomgyu would wait for you after these two long years? it was clear to you that what happened at that concert was a goodbye. and maybe you were okay with that. maybe you didn’t mind. you wiped the tears from your cheeks. it’s okay, you’ve always worked better on your own anyways. without the constant tingling of growing feelings, without the heavy stares that hold so much, without the newborn stars—without beomgyu.

when you get home, you waste no time with the alcohol you have. turning your phone off, locking all your doors and shutting all the curtains. you lay on your bed, drunk out of your mind looking up at the ceiling as you think, what if love’s not meant for me?

five days ago, you went to your ex-bestfriend’s concert and listened as he poured his heart out onto the stage for you; while you ran away from him like the echo of a wind chime in the wind.

beomgyu has taken over your mind. has soared through the mountains of your thoughts and settled gently in the valleys of your desires. lingered in the lakes and puddles and the big vast ocean of your memories. all you’ve been thinking about since the concert was him. he’s completely consumed you.

you had scrolled up and down your messages together, laughing at old jokes and shedding tears at old memories. retelling the jokes he made to yourself and pretending that they were yours to begin with as a permanent smile etched itself onto your features.

maybe this all was a sign. a sign that you should stop hiding in the four walls of your bedroom. a sign that you should find some way to contact beomgyu, rekindle the friendship you once used to have and maybe fan the flames of something greater. you wanted to scream from the rooftops about how much you loved beomgyu. tell the whole world about how he makes you feel and every little thing he does that just fills you with so much warmth.

you were scrolling through the photo album you still had of the two of you. at your silly faces and candid moments. you couldn’t wipe the smile from your face if you wanted to. you felt like a teenage girl, giggling softly as she wrote her crushes name in hearts all over her notebooks. wide smile as she wrote in her diary about how much her crush rocked her world. you didn’t care, you couldn’t help it. beomgyu did—he really did—make you feel this way. he’s turned your whole world upside down.

electricity flowed through you until you were so antsy and electric that you just had to do something before it drove you insane. you needed to tell beomgyu, to let whatever was between the two of you happen. needed to have him around you again after these two long years, even if just briefly. god, you felt like such a romantic cliché, but you felt alive.

opening your phone, you finally replied to all of the messages that yeonjun had sent you. they spanned from worried to disappointed to a resigned sadness. you only sent him one message in response:

you: is he still here?

you held your breath, mentally smacking yourself for not looking up beomgyu’s tour dates beforehand. mentally smacking yourself for not garnering the courage earlier. how stupid you were. your phone dinged from yeonjun’s reply:

jjunie: party tonight at 11:30pm. i’ll pick you up around 11. be ready.

breathing out a sigh of relief you looked at the clock. it was already 10pm. you raided your closet for your best looking outfit, throwing it on as you ran to your bathroom to put makeup on. you wanted to look your absolute best.

11pm couldn’t come fast enough. you were waiting by the door when yeonjun had knocked, him barely getting his second knock in before you flung the door wide open. “is it too late?” you asked him desperately, standing limply in the doorframe. yeonjun just chuckled at you and grabbed your wrist, leading you to his car, “never. not for the two of you.”

on the way over, yeonjun told you how the party was thrown by some big celebrity you never heard of and how beomgyu got the two of you invites. it was for such a good start on his sold out tour and debut album. “like, everyone is gonna be there,” yeonjun said to you as he drove around to find a parking space.

once you found somewhere to park, you and yeonjun made your way to the venue where the party was being held. you passed through all kinds of security until you were faced with blasting music in your ears and bodies dancing everywhere. holding tightly onto yeonjun to not get lost, the two of you scanned the crowd.

“do you want to get a drink?” yeonjun yelled over the music to you. you nodded and he led you through the crowd to where the bar was. the two of you got something and drank them silently by the bar. you felt bad for keeping yeonjun tied to you, so you yelled over the music to him, “you can go and mingle! i’ll be fine over here by myself!” he leaned towards you, furrowing his brows. “are you sure?” he asked and you nodded.

yeonjun made his way through the crowd, turning his charm on as he talked to various people. you stayed at the bar, sipping on various drinks until you felt very tipsy. your eyes scanned the crowd, looking for beomgyu, every minute or so.

that’s when you saw him. he was across the room, holding a glass of something and talking to a group of people, when his eyes drifted and just happened to meet yours. beomgyu rendered you completely speechless. you got a good look at him, not being able to do so that well from his place on the stage, and took in how much he’s changed in the past two years.

beomgyu’s short brown hair was now dark, tinged blue in the low scattered overhead lights. the back of it touched the nape of his neck and the front fell over his eyes and ears. he looked absolutely beautiful, even more beautiful than you remember him being. his eyes widened at seeing you, making the natural liner of his eyes stand out.

suddenly, just like at the concert, it felt like it was only the two of you in the room. his eyes widened at seeing you again, his mouth opening slightly. without knowing it, the two of you gravitated towards each other. then you were face to face, standing in front of each other in the flesh. you couldn’t believe it.

you both said each other’s names at the same time, letting out a nervous laugh after. he motioned for you to continue and you swallowed hard. you were thankful that you were tipsy, that the alcohol was smoothing your nerves, because you definitely wouldn’t be standing in front of beomgyu right now if you weren’t.

“beomie…” you trailed before correcting yourself, you didn’t want to pretend to know him like you use to after two years. “beomgyu… there’s no excuse. no apology even sincere enough—“ beomgyu had cut you off, “y/nie, you don’t have to apologize.”

you shook your head. you knew that you didn’t, that he had already forgiven you and moved past it. hell, he wrote a song about it. but you had to. you had to apologize in at least some way. “no, i do,” you stated. “i shouldn’t have let us drift away, shouldn’t have let us become strangers. i shouldn’t have pushed you away. you were my bestfriend and i was scared. i like you so much, so much that you enveloped me completely. my mind, my book, my life… everything.”

you inhaled deeply, looking longingly into beomgyu’s eyes like you had wanted to do now for so long. “all i thought about was you. all i think about is you. and i miss you. i missed you so much, beomgyu. i love you. i’ve always loved you—“ beomgyu sat his glass on the nearby table as you spoke, then cupped your face gently with both of his hands and collided his lips to yours in a passionate kiss to cut you off. it told you everything he was feeling, everything he’s felt for you for who knows how long now. you felt his song lyrics on your lips. felt how every last lyric was written for you, every melody. every atom of your being colliding with every atom of his and creating a beautiful newborn star.

when he pulled away, he pulled you into a desperate and tight hug. he held you so tight it was as if he thought you were a bird that would fly away. you couldn’t blame him, you kind of were. “i don’t think i need to tell you how much i love you, but i will. i’ll sing it in your ear softly and scream it at the top of my lungs for all the stars to witness, y/n. i love you,” beomgyu murmured into the crook of your neck.

you took his hand and led him out the venue. when you suddenly remembered that yeonjun took you here, beomgyu chuckled as he took you to his car. in the warm glow of your city at night, you pointed to various street signs and turns as beomgyu drove to your apartment.

inside your apartment, the two of you couldn’t keep your mouths off each other. the wanting—the need—lifting you up to cloud nine and making you dizzy. when you both somehow got to your bedroom, you were breathless and hot to the touch.

beomgyu had pulled away from you. “is this okay?” he asked, looking into your eyes. you saw the desire inside of them. you nodded, “yes, just please don’t stop kissing me.” and he obliged, his lips on yours again.

one by one, articles of clothing came off. there was brief awkwardness, the hem of your dress getting caught on the earrings you were wearing and the button of his pants refusing to come undone. it all was alright in the end when the two of you were laying on your bed, you only in your bra and panties and him only in his boxers, his huge bulge pressing into your thigh as he hovered above you.

you were growing needy, the alcohol edging you onwards. “beomgyu… i need you inside me,” you whimpered against his mouth as his hard boner rubbed against you. he hummed, lips moving to your neck, causing you to moan. “i need you to fuck me…” you breathed out. beomgyu pulled away with the slightest upturn of his lips.

he sat you up so that you were now straddling his lap as he reached behind you and unclasped your bra. “next time…” beomgyu murmured. “next time i’ll fuck you. but not tonight. tonight… we stop being strangers.” you shivered slightly at your already hardened nipples being exposed to the cool air. shivering more when beomgyu’s wet tongue circled them.

“is that okay?” beomgyu asked, staring into your eyes as he waited for your response. you nodded, unintentionally grinding against him, and moaned out, “yes.” his fingers had gripped your bare waist at the contact and his eyes shut tightly for a brief moment. “next time… i promise you. let me get to know your body again.”

and get to know your body, he did. beomgyu laid you back down gently and then pulled off your panties slowly while staring down at you, eyes caressing every inch of you. you felt yourself getting wetter by the second, gripping the blankets to keep yourself from pulling him to you.

beomgyu pressed his lips to yours once more as he spread your legs apart. he pressed open mouthed kisses to your skin as he moved farther and farther down your body, looking up at you the entire time. you jolted slightly when he pressed kisses to the inside of your thighs. “you’re so breathtaking, even more than before,” beomgyu spoke, trailing kisses up to your knee. he paused for a second, “i missed you so much, y/n.”

his tongue then swirled around your clit and your back arched off the bed, your hands finding their way into his pretty hair. beomgyu groaned, pulling away from your core with a wet mouth, as you pulled at it. just as quickly, he was back at it, making you moan for him as he devoured you. you creating pretty harmonies for him.

“fuck…” beomgyu said lowly. you could see how hard his cock was in his boxers and it made you need him even more. he then pushed two fingers into you, them slipping in easily with how wet you were for him. beomgyu pulled you up from the bed as he continued pushing his fingers in and out of you, tipping your head back and capturing your lips in a sweet and slow kiss. your tongues danced together, waltz together as you clenched around his fingers.

pulling away, you buried your face in his neck as you whimpered his name. “cum for me, baby,” beomgyu said in your ear softly. you didn’t need to be told twice, your warm release spreading all over his fingers.

you wrapped your arms around his neck, “i-i need you, please… your—your fingers aren’t e-enough.” beomgyu chuckled as he nodded. you released your hold on him so he could take off his boxes, his long and hard cock on full display for you. you used to dream of moments like these.

beomgyu looked at you, asking silently if you were ready. in response, you shakily got to your knees. he lined himself up with your entrance and slowly, you slid down onto him. the both of you gasped at the feeling, moans joining together in a beautiful song as you moved up and down on his cock.

you were giving each other sloppy and needy kisses, beomgyu wrapping his arms around you to pull you closer as he thrusted up into your pussy. you gasped against his lips, your hands laying to rest against his chest. he whimpered as he continued thrusting, “you feel so—so good. so good, baby. do you f-feel good?”

“y—oh… it feels s-so good,” you managed out. you could feel the knot in your stomach tighten with each thrust he pushed into you. with the feeling of his veiny shaft inside you, sending electric currents throughout your body. the feeling of his lips on yours. moaning, you pulled away and rested your forehead on beomgyu’s. “i’m gonna c-cum again, gyu.”

he moved you so your back was against the bed again, your legs wrapped around his waist and his cock still deep inside you. groaning at the new angle, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him to you. “let me help you, baby. l-let me do the work,” beomgyu mumbled before you kissed him.

in passionate thrusts, you came around him again and a few seconds later you felt his warm cum pour inside of you. his hips jerked against yours and he let out a whine as he rolled into you, not planning on slowing down. “b-beomgyu…” you whimpered, gripping him tighter and throwing your head back so you were staring hazily at the ceiling. you didn’t know how much more you could take.

“l-look at me, my pretty baby, i n-need to see your face,” beomgyu said between hard pants. between the sounds of your skin slapping together and the wet sounds of him entering and exiting you repeatedly. you looked at him through knitted brows, your fingers in his hair and pulling his head back. “f-fuck… god, you d-don’t know what you d-do to me,” he murmured, eyes shutting for a moment. you pulled him down to kiss his jaw. “feels… feels so…” you couldn’t even finish your sentence as you clenched around him again.

beomgyu was twitching inside you more and more and you could tell he was overstimulating himself just to make you feel good. his words of praise were being slurred as he stared deeply into your eyes, breathing erratically.

when the two had came together, you couldn’t take anymore. your legs were shaking badly and your back was beginning to ache from how much you kept arching it. pushing beomgyu away until he was hovering above you, you barely managed to whimper out in a whisper, “c-can’t take it a-anymore, beomie…”

at your words he slipped out of you slowly, groaning loudly as you clenched tightly around his poor cock the whole way out. “y/n…” beomgyu moaned. he hovered above you for a moment, forehead pressed to yours and arms trembling, before falling down next to you. beomgyu pulled you towards him until you were wrapped in his body. you tried not to think about how his still half hard cock was up against your sensitive pussy. his breath fanning your skin and sending a shiver up your spine.

the two of you stayed like that for a couple minutes, coming down from your highs and breathing the same air. beomgyu had been trailing lines down your torso with the tips of his fingers, leaving goosebumps in his wake. you could feel his smile against your cheek at the way your body reacted to his touch.

when you both were strong enough to get up, he cleaned the cum from between your legs and his with a warm and wet towel and then guided you to the bathroom. beomgyu drew a bubble bath for the both of you, helping you inside of it when your legs began to shake and your knees almost gave out.

now you laid back against his chest inside the bathtub, one of his hands trailing up and down your arm with a washcloth and the other wrapped tightly against your lower stomach. “you don’t know how long i’ve wanted this…” beomgyu trailed off softly. you turned slightly so you could look up at him. “you don’t know how long i wanted this either. how long i wanted to be with you in general.”

beomgyu smiled warmly down at you, that same warm smile he would give you every time you sang together. “how long?” he asked, playfulness slipping into his tone. “for as long as i can remember,” you giggled. “for as long as i’ve known you.” he pressed a kiss to your temple, the action sending ripples to your heart. “i’ve wanted it for longer,” he replied, laughing when you playfully scoffed up at him. “this isn’t our first life together.”

that sentiment made you turn in the tub to face him fully, your eyebrows knitting together and your eyes full of fondness. it almost brought tears to your eyes. “beomgyu…” you murmured as you cupped his face softly and brought your lips to his. you kissed him slowly, trying to show him how much you loved him through it. your actions and words alone will never be able to fully express how you feel for him.

after the two of you cleaned up more in the bath, you laid side by side in your bed. thankfully, you still had some of beomgyu’s clothes that you just couldn’t get rid of from when you still lived together and you would steal them. you were in one of beomgyu’s old shirts now, body up against his in the darkness of your bedroom.

“i’m gonna miss you when you leave to go back on tour. i don’t want you to leave,” you whispered softly into the darkness. you weren’t very good at expressing your fears out loud, clearly. but you had to let him know. had to let him know that you didn’t want this to be just a one time thing and you never see each other again. “so come with me,” beomgyu replied at your same tone, simply. “come with me and we won’t have to miss each other.”

you couldn’t help but think of the lyrics of the song he wrote for you, the one the two of you would sing together. “over the canopy, it’s each other that we always seem to miss.” he was right about ‘graze’ having a whole new meaning in his interview. first, it meant the longing between the two of you. always dancing around each other, fingertips always seeming to just brush up against the other’s but never fully grasping. then, it meant the two of you drifting apart. missing the opportunity to admit your feelings and be together. and lastly, right now. right in this moment, the two of you together again after two long years. missing each other until your heart aches even though you’re right next to each other. it is funny how meanings change.

“okay,” you giggled softly. “i’ll come with you.” you weren’t going to linger. he was right, this wasn’t your first life together, you could feel it. you were gonna stay with him forever. beomgyu pulled you closer, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck.

last night, your world was turned back on it’s rightful axis as you and your bestfriend beomgyu—your lover beomgyu, sealed the two of your souls together.

that morning you both had woken up to a ton of missed calls and a plethora of text messages. you both stared at each other with wide eyes after realizing that the two of you had basically silently walked out of the celebration that was held for beomgyu. yeonjun scolding the two of you when he realized that not only was beomgyu not at his own party, but that you weren’t there either.

quick kisses and giggles were shared as beomgyu raced to get ready for the schedule he had to do today. “text me, okay? i want to hear from you. i’ll let you know when we’re leaving for the next stop, so get your bags ready,” beomgyu said, throwing his coat on and pressing another kiss to your lips, deepening the kiss for just a moment before he pulled away.

you were standing by the door, a lovesick smile on your face, “i will!” you giggled as he stalled more and pulled you into a hug. “and don’t delete the kisses,” he whispered, kissing your cheek before finally making his way through the door. you waved goodbye to him and shut the door, immediately pulling out your phone.

you: i’ll see you later today. good luck on your interview! xxx

there was an immediate response from him and you giggled as you read it and responded.

beomie: thank you, baby! i love you!! you: i love you more!! xxx beomie: i love you more than there are stars in the sky!!! you: and i love you more than there are galaxies in our universe!!!! xxx beomie: okay… you win… but only because i can’t think of anything better!!!

laughing, you went to your room and started packing the things you needed for beomgyu’s tour.

two years ago—four since the beginning—you left the kisses at the end of your messages to your boyfriend beomgyu.

you were backstage just before one of his shows with him and yeonjun. beomgyu’s arm was wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his side. your mouth was currently hung open in shock at yeonjun’s revealing news.

“i’m sorry, y/nie, but i just had to tell him. two years i had to listen to the both of you cry over each other—two years! i couldn’t do it anymore. i had to tell him about the things you were saying!” yeonjun sighed dramatically as if he were so defeated. you pushed his shoulder lightly, “you ass! then you had the nerve to set the two of us up at beomgyu’s concert with the tickets he gave you!”

beomgyu let out a laugh from next to you, laughing louder when you turned a playful glare to him. “if i didn’t…” yeonjun trailed as he spoke to you with raised eyebrows, “you two wouldn’t be together right now. now would you?” you rolled your eyes at him, wrapping your arms around beomgyu and laying your head on his chest.

“i’d like to think we would find our way back together,” beomgyu spoke, looking down at you. you smiled up at him in return. “uh huh…” said yeonjun, causing the three of you to erupt into laughter.

since beomgyu’s debut album and tour to go along with it, he’s released two more albums. all of the songs about you, once again. in every interview he had, he gushed about you to whoever would listen. you’ve also finally published your book, deciding to let beomgyu’s essence flow through the entirety of it. you couldn’t remove him even if you tried. and trust, you had tried.

one of the staff members gave a signal to beomgyu and he nodded back and gave a thumbs up. it was almost time for him to be on stage. for the first time ever, you were singing ‘graze’ and ‘forethought’ together with their whole new meanings.

you stared at beomgyu’s stunning side profile as he peeked out to the crowd. you almost laughed at yourself, at your past thoughts. of course love was meant for you. of course you and beomgyu were meant to be together, meant to be in love. meant to share each of your lifetimes and universes and supernovas and nebulas and brand new brightly burning newborn stars together.

of course the two of you were meant to love each other forever, how could you ever think differently?

© jjunieworld - all rights reserved. please do not repost on any social media sites, translate, or modify any of my works.

permanent taglist: @jjunberry @gothgyuu @spooksh0wbabe @beargyuuzz @kittyhyuka @dani-is-tired @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @rapmonie2047 @riaawr

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[prettygiri222]

okay but imagine eren seen a video of his baby momma at the club singin sexy redd’s “ FUCK MY BABYDADDY ” 😭😭 he just brings their son or daughter to reader’s mom and goes back to reader’s house and tears them TF upppp.

i can just hear him saying “ fuck yo baby who?? oh aight. ”

I had to add rapper!Eren to this cause it's something I always wanted to write😋

Eren x Black Fem Reader, PLOT + SMUT

rapper Eren Yeager's longtime girlfriend of six years broke up with him after having his first child, Duke Yeager. Eren shared a post on instagram confirming their breakup but stated that the both of them remain in Duke’s life as co-parents. the reason why was unreleased so fans speculated that Eren must’ve cheated because why else would you willingly break up with the famous rapper. his management released a statement saying it was due to conflicting schedules but it was seen as damage control so no one believed it.

during the six years of the relationship, his management managed to keep your face out of the media. but with the way Eren was constantly posting snippets of you, fans soon discovered who you were after matching physical features, traits and location that were found on his story with the ones present on your small instagram.

you two quickly became the it couple, how the girl from nowhere pulled a famous rapper gave fans hope because they saw them reflected in you. a woman who didn’t have to undergo multiple surgeries to pull the industry's finest. but after the breakup, that image fell.

his management did their best to keep things under wraps to keep the media from tormenting you but it didn’t work. when you posted a picture of yourself postpartum your dms filled with hateful comments wondering why Eren had gotten with you in the first place. you knew it was just jealous fangirls but it still got to you, especially since you weren’t all that confident in your new body and still recovering from your pregnancy. your accounts went silent shortly after.

although the breakup was mutual, the reason why was deeper than scheduling conflicts. you needed someone who was able to be there physically, emotionally and mentally. it was hard for Eren to provide that due to his career path, always travelling the world with a packed schedule. you guys did your best to make it work but after Duke came into the world you just couldn’t handle it anymore. 

Eren was a decent baby daddy and you guys co-parented well. you had full custody of him but when Eren was in town and would have time off you would send Duke over to him. Duke loved his daddy, always wanting to watch his concerts and interviews on the TV when he wasn’t there or free to facetime. Eren always made sure to send double what was asked for in child support to make sure you took care of yourself as well as his son.

that’s why when you reposted your friend’s story of you in the club all hell broke loose. people took it as a diss to your baby daddy, which it was, but not in the way they thought.

earlier that week you had dropped Duke off at Eren’s mansion. he had just flown back in from his world tour and finally had a few weeks off. despite being exhausted he called you up and asked if you could bring Duke over, wanting to spend as much time with his son as possible during his break. he sent over an uber black to pick the two of you up.

when Eren met you two at the door, Duke jumped into his arms smiling and giggling. it’s been a while since he’s seen his daddy in person. the sight made you awe. Eren turned to you and asked if you wanted to stay over so he could spend time with the two most important people in his life but sadly you declined. you didn’t want to interrupt their father and son bonding time.

Duke was almost a clone of Eren, he had his sharp green eyes, german nose and face shape. the only hints of you in him were his full lips, darker skin and coils. Duke was your little bundle of joy but he could be a handful at times. during the few times those two got to spend together Eren spoiled him rotten, whatever he wanted he got and it showed. whenever you told him no he would throw a tantrum saying how he wanted his daddy. you knew you were a good mother but hearing him say that when you were the one who took care of him every day hurt.

---

it was a friday night and Eren was at his crib chilling with Duke. he had his phone on do now disturb so his time with his family wouldn’t be interrupted. it was a shame you weren’t here to spend time with them. after having pizza, soda and ice cream for dinner the boys passed out on the couch after staying up past midnight watching movies. 

his peace was soon interrupted by the constant buzz of his phone. it roused him from his sleep but Duke slept through it. after the third ring, he finally answered the phone. he was pissed that his manager was calling him knowing it was his time off but he figured it must be important for them to use emergency bypass to call.

“what’s going on?” his voice gruff from his slumber and irritation. he turned on his phone to see it flooded with notifications from instagram, snapchat, tiktok, twitter, messages, missed calls from his friends and one from his mom and his heart dropped to his stomach. he hadn't dropped anything new recently so he knew whatever was happening had to be bad.

“well… it’s about your baby mama… she uh…” his manager was at a loss for words. he didn't know the words to describe the situation to make it not seem as bad as the media was already making it out to be. he knew Eren would be pissed when he found out what happened and they didn't want to be on the end of it. 

Eren was extremely protective of his family and friends. when he saw the hate you were receiving after you posted a picture of yourself postpartum he took to twitter immediately. he did not play when it came to you, together or not together. you were the mother of his child and you needed your respect. so he was wondering why you were playing in his face like this.

“well what is it?” he snapped, already losing his patience. “is she ok? is she hurt?” he shot upright from his resting position on the couch. he opened up the group chat between him, Armin, Connie, Onyankopon and Jean first. all that was sent was a blurry video followed by a bunch of skull and grave emojis.

he opened the video and immediately recognized the faces of a few of the girls in it as a few of your friends, Sasha, Mikasa and Historia at a club. Sasha, Connie’s model girlfriend was the one to record them singing along to a sexyy red song. he wondered what the video had to do with him until it panned to you. you stood out with your brightly dyed red hair styled in a what he recognized as a wash-and-go.

“fuck my baby daddy! fuck my baby daddy! fuck my baby daddy!” you were shouting the lyrics a little bit too passionately. you had your middle fingers stuck up to the camera showing off your glittery red acrylic nails. you were clearly wasted, drunk off of whatever drinks Sasha managed to shove down your throat.

“yes bitch!” your friends shouted as you turned around to shake your ass sticking out your tongue. you were wearing a ripped mesh dress. one of your friends reached out to pull down the back of your dress to prevent your ass from showing but the dress was already leaving very little to the imagination. the pregnancy did your body good, you were a bit on the skinny side before but now your hips had filled out, your ass and boobs swole and your skin finally cleared up. you were glowing.

“I’m a fine ass bitch, I ain’t in the in the house sad!” you were feeling yourself. it felt nice to get out of the house and away from Duke no matter how much you loved him. having to take care of a baby by yourself was tiring, no matter how much Eren supported you from afar you needed him there with you.

your friends were hyping you up and your mind grew hazy from both the alcohol and adrenaline. you were far too gone to realize what you said when you yelled “fuck Eren!” instead of the actual lyrics. the camera quickly panned to the floor before the video stopped.

Eren had to replay the video countless times to process what he had seen and heard. but he couldn’t believe it was you. never in the eight years he’s known you have you ever picked up the phone to send a dig at him through social media. no matter how tough the going got, it’s what he respected about you. you always wanted to talk problems through and try to make it work. Eren clenched his fist looking at you now.

Eren knows how baby mamas like you are seen and treated in the industry. he’s seen how they're constantly bashed and embarrassed by the fathers of their children and the media. Eren never wanted that for you, he wanted to give you a ring before he gave you a baby but accidents happen and here you both were. instead of calling him or stopping by to talk you wanted to show out for the fans and diss him. it was stupid of you, he knew you were better than this.

“so it’s “fuck Eren” is that right,” Eren laughed to himself throwing his head back on the couch. sure he couldn’t be there for you and Duke all the time like he wanted but at least he tried. he was a very busy man. but he did what he had to to make sure his mother, Duke and you could have a nice and cozy life. where Duke didn’t have to worry about if he was going to eat dinner that night. “bet.”

“sorry little man but I have to go get your mommy. you’re going to go to stay with your grandma tonight, ok?” he cooed to Duke, waking him up. Duke slowly woke up and was trying to rub the sleep out of his eye. Eren loved his son very much he was the reason he kept this stressful life up. 

he enjoyed making music and performing but not during the days when he slept in the studio trying to find the perfect lyrics and beat or days where he hardly slept because he had to stay on his feet. it was a fast life and if he couldn’t keep up it would all come crashing down. and for you to make a dig at that knowing how he felt was fucked.

“Eren Yeager!” his manager shouted through the phone overhearing the whole thing. he needed Eren to keep a calm head and not do anything rash tonight. he didn’t need him sparking more outrage in the media or doing something that could potentially ruin the relationship you two had. “what are you going to do?”

“what else, I’m going to go fuck my baby mama,” before his manager could get another word out he hung up the phone. 

“daddy said a bad word!”

“...don’t tell your mom and I’ll bring you to the studio with me.”

---

you wobbled into your apartment with a sheepish grin. it felt like a huge weight was lifted off your shoulder tonight. it’s been a while since you went to the club and got so drunk that the world became a blur. you were slowly regaining memories of what happened that night and you couldn’t help but cringe knowing you would regret some of them in the morning. your phone died on your way home after you reposted Sasha’s story so you were oblivious to the buzz you had created.

when you went to unlock your door you found out that it was already open. you raised your brow but you brushed it off thinking you must’ve forgotten to lock it in your rush to leave the house. you knew the security for your building was tight, it was the main thing you were looking for when you were buying your apartment. it was a necessity since Duke was the son of a successful rapper. 

when you and Eren had split you bought yourself a nice little two-bedroom apartment deep in the city. Eren offered to pay for it but you immediately declined, you didn’t want anything else of yours to get attached to him. during your relationship you saved up a lot of money since Eren had always offered to buy you whatever you wanted and spoiled you rotten just like he was doing with Duke. he fueled your shopping addiction only wanting his girlfriend to have the best of the best.

you had a little side hustle as an occasional hairstylist and nail artist for your friends and family with the occasional new client. Eren told you time and time again you didn’t need to work and that he would take care of everything. but you liked having your own source of income it made you feel independent plus you enjoyed your job.

being able to close on your dream apartment was a dream come true and it left you feeling satisfied. you loved how everything was within walking distance, there was a daycare down the street along with an elementary school for when Duke got older. there was a grocery store right around the corner with a few outlets and public transit ran just outside the building, it was perfect for a single mother like you. 

“thought we were doing good with this co-parenting shit mama?” the second you opened the door you were greeted by a voice you knew better than your own. goosebumps covered your arms, ‘why is he here’ you thought.

“Eren?” you called out into the dark apartment. you felt the wall closest to the door for the switch and turned the light on. and there he was, Eren, your famous baby daddy. he turned his head to look at you from where he was seated on the couch. his eyes were extremely low, watching your every move. “are you ok? where's Duke?”

“with your mom,” Eren was having such a pleasant high, he felt so relaxed and calm in the dark room. he didn’t have the TV on and was just staring at the black screen. but the second the room lit up and you walked through the door with that tiny see-through dress on it dispersed. he narrowed his eyes down at you and you could tell you had just blown his high. his anger simmering underneath his calm demeanour. 

“how’d you even get in?” you never gave Eren the key to your apartment. having already been split and you always dropped Duke off at his place there was no reason for him to have one.

“front desk gave me a key after I flashed a couple of stacks,” he replied nonchalantly, like it wasn’t a crime on both parts. you rolled your eyes, this was how Eren fixed all his problems, with money. you get that when he was growing up it was something he didn’t have but now that he had it was like all he knew how to do was throw it at people to make his problems disappear.

“well if Duke isn’t here then there’s no reason for you to be,” you don’t know what you did to warrant this visit but you didn’t want to be in his presence any longer. you liked to keep your contact with Eren as minimal as possible. plus you didn’t have the energy to deal with him tonight, you were tired. hoping he would get the hint it was time to leave you walked away and headed towards your bedroom, “please see yourself out. we can talk another day.”

“nah, 'cause it’s “fuck Eren” right?” he got up from the couch and followed you down the hall and into your room. the wooden floor creaking under his weight. you didn’t have to turn around to know he was towering over you, you could feel him breathing down your neck. you tried to move away from him but he gripped your waist with a firm grip underneath and pulled you against him. “you must’ve gone crazy going so long with my dick huh? that must be it, acting like you lost your damn mind.”

“Eren!” you pulled away to look back at him in shock. “what are you even talking about?”

“don’t play dumb with me mama, your ass is all over the shade room talking about “fuck my baby daddy” ” he took his phone out of his pocket to show you their newest post. it was a screenshot of a video but it was clearly you, it was the same outfit and hairstyle you had on right now. you swiped the image on his phone in disbelief and the video played, “fuck Eren! fuck my baby daddy! fuck my baby daddy!”

“oh my gosh! Eren, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, I was drunk and got carried away,” you looked up at him from the phone. you could tell he was pissed, his eyes darkened after hearing what you said in the video for the hundredth time. you were horrified, you didn’t mean to air out your personal problems and make Eren seem like a bad father. you knew how the public blew things out of proportion.

“they say drunk words are sober thoughts,” Eren stated, shrugging his shoulders. “I know Duke be stressing you out ma, let me fix it,” he stared down at you with a little smirk. he licked his lips, obviously checking you out. it's been a while since he's seen your body exposed, you always show up to drop Duke off in oversized sweaters and shirts. just looking at you like this made his dick hard, “plus you owe me an apology.”

that’s how you found yourself face down ass up in your bedroom with the man you’d never thought would step foot in your new apartment. Eren was behind you standing at the edge of the bed, his black and grey nike tech sweater was thrown somewhere in your room leaving him in a white wife beater and his golden cuban link chain. his grey sweats were down so that just his dick was out.

“mm fuck Eren! please,” you cried out. no matter how deeply you arched or angled your hips you couldn’t get him to reach where you needed him the most. he knew that but he loved watching you struggle and the way your brown cheeks jiggled after coming into contact with his pelvis. you were a sight to see, one that he deeply missed.

“you can do better than that mama,” he raised his pierced brow watching you. Eren stood completely still behind you, you had your face buried in the sheets as you attempted to throw it back on him. you were still dressed in your mesh dress but he ripped your thong off. “I saw you in that video. you were shaking that shit so c’mon, fuck me back ma.”

your makeup was staining your sheets but you could care less right now. the feeling of Eren stretching out your practically virginal walls was dumbfounding. he didn’t bother to stretch you out believing that your body was already moulded to his shape. but it’s been about two years since you last had sex. your tight walls were struggling to accommodate his humongous size.

“ ’m trying,” the lack of stimulation on your sweet spots had you in tears. the stretch was pleasurable but it wasn’t enough, paired with the shallow thrusts. you so desperately craved more so you reached in between your legs to play with your clit. Eren groaned at the sight of you touching yourself, not to mention you began to clench around him. 

“damn ma, now that’s what I’m talking about,” Eren gave your ass a harsh slap. you let out a little whine as you lost your rhythm because of it. but you soon found it again. your wetness was soaking his dick and you were basically twerking on his dick. Eren loved every second of it. 

he took one of your ass cheeks and pulled it to the side with his tattooed hand, he watched himself go in and out of your brown folds. feeling the unsteady approach of his orgasm watching as you struggled to fuck yourself on him he decided to finally grant you mercy. he languidly began to thrust into you. “go ahead and nut on this dick mama.”

 “o-okay” you stuttered out. you struggled to concentrate on stimulating your sensitive clit while bouncing back to meet Eren’s lazy thrusts. your fingers were covered in your own wetness while you rubbed little circles on your bud. each loop paired with the tip of his dick pressing against that spongy spot inside you brought you ever closer to your climax. “ ‘m so close!”

“let it out for me baby,” the pace became erratic, you guys’ release at its peak. sometimes his dick collided straight into your soft spot and sometimes it completely missed. but the feeling of him pummeling in and out of you had you convulsing around his dick. “keep squeezing around me like that and I'll put another baby in you, fuck.”

you let out broken whines as you struggled to continuously stimulate your bud. you were soaking wet that your fingers slipped around. “‘ren! ren!” you chanted, reaching out toward him with your slick-covered hand. Eren grabbed it and put it in his mouth. groaning deeply as he licked and sucked on your coated digits.

“don’t worry mama, I got you. let it out for me,” Eren leaned over your arched form and whispered in your ear. his husky sending shivers down your spine as he talked you through it. you listened to him feeling the wave of pleasure overwhelm you, the sensation in your stomach bursting.

“f-fuck, fuck!”

“shit,” when he felt himself about to burst he pulled out of your pussy's compelling grasp. he watched the lewd scene in front of him and used it to jerk off. he groaned out stroking his soaking dick. your pussy hole remained gaping after he pulled out and your liquids were spilling on your sheets. after a few strokes, he released all over your back onto your mesh dress staining it.

you plopped down onto your empty bed exhausted. the room filled with the sound of laboured breathing as you guys tried to catch your breath. the sound of Eren shuffling around could be heard soon after. your heart ached at the thought of him leaving you so soon but you closed your eyes, ‘it’s for the better’ you thought. you wanted a few moments of rest before you went to wash up.

but Eren wasn’t finished yet, he was shedding the remaining articles of his clothing leaving him naked. your eyes opened feeling the bed dip under the extra weight. before you could protest, Eren had already climbed on top of you, grabbing your legs and having them pushed over your head, “we’re not finished yet.”

this time Eren took the lead, he had ripped off your dress leaving you completely naked and exposed to his eyes. he had you folded over like a pretzel leaving you open for him. your legs were bent so far over your head you could see the top of your pussy and watch as Eren thrusted in and out of your overstimulated hole from above. the pleasure made you want to slither away but Eren’s strong hold kept you still.

“E-eren!” you were losing your mind from the stimulation. “too much! it’s too much!” you cried out. you reached out to push against his rock-hard abdomen. you didn’t want him to stop, not when you were so close to your second orgasm of the night but it was too much. he was being so rough with you. you didn’t think you had it in you after motherhood to be manhandled like this.

“nah, you can take it. you’re a big girl now, dissing me at the club with your friends. be glad I’m even fucking you since I’m such a “bad baby daddy.” Eren mocked you from above. he didn’t even flinch as you tried to push him away. he smiled down at you watching how easily you got fucked out. moans were no longer coming out your mouth, more like strangled sobs and whines that were being forced out after each deep thrust of his. the head of his dick battering your insides and abusing your soft spot left you tremoring underneath him.

“imsorryimsorry,” you babbled out. your mascara and eyeliner were running down your cheeks and your lipstick was smothered but you couldn’t look any prettier to Eren. he enjoyed watching as your tits bounce around. he brought his forest green eyes back up to you watching as you bit your quivering lip.

“how’d that song go again?” Eren sarcastically asked. with the number of times he replayed that video he had the lyrics, beat and rhythm all memorized. “something like this right?” pap! pap! pap! Eren changed the rhythm of his thrusts, the sound of his balls clapping against your ass and the squelching sounds of your pussy mimicked the bow bow bow of the song. he angled each thrust to deliver a particularly harsh hit to your g-spot.

without warning an intense feeling of pleasure erupted in your stomach. “imcuming!” you cried out. you could feel a liquid flow out from your pussy, completely drenching Eren’s dick. he quickly pulled out to watch you squirt, a sight he immensely missed. the translucent liquid gushed out of your hole soaking the sheets as well.

“you said fuck your baby who?” Eren smiled down at your fucked out face. you couldn’t even answer him with the overwhelming pleasure rendering all of your senses useless. your head was thrown back and your face furrowed, coming down from the high of your intense orgasm. “oh aight.”

I think I got a bit carried away🤭

#anime smut #aot smut #x black reader #aot x black reader #black reader smut #black y/n #aot #aot x reader #eren x black reader #eren smut #eren x black fem!reader #eren x reader #eren yeager smut #eren jeager smut #eren jeager x you #eren jeager x reader #eren jeager x y/n #attack on titan smut #rapper smut #attack on titan #attack on titan au #black coded reader #smut

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer Park Steve AU part 4

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

September

He doesn’t talk to the Munsons much. (Doesn’t talk to anyone, really, aside from his mom and Robin and that one older woman who keeps renting and returning Gone With The Wind as an excuse to leave her house.) He keeps his head down and his nose clean, doesn’t care to make friends with the neighbors; just wants to get by.

One day Eddie approaches their door, waving a gas bill that got mixed up in their mail, and Steve greets him pleasantly enough.

“Stab anyone today?”

“Eat glass, Harrington.”

So it goes.

Steve watches the world pass and the weather turn, lets the hours bleed into weeks and squeezes his eyes shut against the flashbacks when they threaten to overwhelm.

Things with his mom are weird.

They don’t really speak, preferring to shrug their way past each other with careful, tight-lipped nods, and his mom takes these pills the doctor gave her that keep her perfectly pleasant and calm. Silent. Physically present but not really here.

And he can’t imagine how it feels to be her: Florence Harrington, ripped from the comforts of the upper crust and left to rot in a tin can seven miles across town. She spends most of her time letting out weary little sighs as she swans from room to room, drifting like a shade on the banks of the River Styx. (He can make that reference now because Robin won’t shut up about mythology. “It’s so gay, Steve. The Greeks were literally so gay.”)

Anyway.

Shit’s weird with the kids, too. He still drives them around — lets them loiter at Family Video when it’s slow; hangs around when they need a ride to the arcade or the movies or the skating rink; and he’s still on the hook for ‘ice cream. for. life,’ so…

It’s just not the same.

Like. Not to be dramatic, but who the fuck is Steve Harrington without the house and the pool and the free-for-all fridge? Just some kid with a car and a bat and a punchable face. And he can barely afford to keep the car now, anyway, so pretty soon they won’t need him for that, either. They’ll learn to drive; they’ll get their own jobs. Maybe Lucas builds enough muscle to take over as the party tank.

Maybe it’s better if he shelfs himself now before they realize he’s become obsolete.

“Oh, my god, you’re being pathetic,” he groans to himself. His voice is muffled where he’s lying face down on the couch. Ridiculous behavior, because everything is fine; Steve is fine. In the grand scheme of things where there are monsters and melted corpses and all kinds of crazy, horrible shit?

Yeah.

He’s being obnoxious. It’s a lovely sunny Saturday afternoon with just the right Autumn breeze going — gentle but cool; long sleeve polo weather; his favorite kind — and he’s sitting inside throwing himself a pity party.

Fucking absurd.

…Five more minutes.

Just five more minutes, then he’s getting off this couch.

He gets to a minute and a half when he hears the crunch of tires against the gravel, the clanging of a little bell from the handlebar of a bike, and then:

“STEVE!!!”

And that’ll be Dustin, trying to bang the door off the hinges and piss off the whole park at the same time. Kid’s nothing if not a multitasker. Steve lets another aggrieved groan loose into the couch cushion.

His mom’s out with the car; the lights are all off. Maybe he can just play dead ‘til Dustin leaves? He loves the kid, he really does, but his left ear is full of static, and he just wants to fucking sleep. Or sulk. Or both.

“STEVEN CHRISTOPHER, I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE.”

Jeeeeesus Christ. “Okay, chill,” Steve grumbles as he hauls himself upright and throws open the front door. His limbs feel like lead; there’s drool on his chin. “Wake the whole goddamn neighborhood, why don’t you?”

“It’s two in the afternoon.”

“Yeah, and half the people here work nights.”

“Oh-kayy,” Dustin drags out the word, “but you don’t.”

Ugh. Whatever. He’s not gonna be shamed by a toothless teenager for his depressing loser tendencies. “Did you need something?”

Steve scratches at his belly hair through his shirt, feels a muscle twinge in his shoulder and send a spark of nerve pain skittering up to the base of his skull.

Dustin either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care that Steve’s body is falling apart where he stands, because he just rolls his eyes and says, “Uh, yeah. I need to know why you’re avoiding everyone? Mom’s tried to invite you to dinner six times now.”

“I was working.”

“All six times?” Dustin glares. Steve feels a little pinned by it, feels guilt seeping through the cracks as he fidgets with his bad ear. This kid’s gonna be the scariest lawyer some day. “She’s worried.”

Goddammit.

Guilt squeezes hard behind his ribs; he knows Dustin uses his mom as a mouthpiece for the feelings he can’t express. “I’m fine,” he sighs, letting his eyes and voice go soft. “Honest.”

Dustin holds firm, gaze fierce and fists clenched. “Bullshit,” he insists.

“Man, don’t—”

“Bull. Shit.”

Suddenly, their impromptu interrogation gets interrupted by a crashing drum fill, a shriek of electric guitar as Munson’s van squeals into the lot. He’s blasting some melodramatic metal shit about wizards or whatever; Steve doesn’t know. He only knows that the skitter of nerve pain he felt is ramping up to a fullblown migraine now because this guy has to listen to his racket at full fucking volume, apparently, and isn’t this all just “fucking great.”

—

part 5

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #trailer park steve au #steve can have a little depression as a treat #robin buckley #dustin henderson #claudia henderson #my writing #my fic

[astrologydayz]

ASTROLOGY FUCKING NOTES

WHY do people say that if someone's planets falls into your 7th house, then YOU'RE THEIR IDEAL LOVER??? Bitch bye. If someone's planets falls into YOUR 7th house, then U DIG THEM OR HATE EM, AS IT'S YOUR 7TH HOUSE! Let's say that your crush planets falls into your 1st and 7th house, then obviously u like their looks (1st house) and the way they show themselves off 2 other people, (how they treat other people/people u know (7th house! Don't project.

Pluto conjunct Ascendant in synastry, is a stalker aspect🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️. It kinda reminds me of Hailey running around after Justin at his interviews, when they were young and he had no idea🤨🫣😭🤣 . SO FUCKING CREEPY. Pluto is obsessed, and way 2 "fixated" on the asc person. It can get dangerous, cuz ASC person has no idea about how deeply the obsession runs with Pluto, fr💀. The worst part is that they usually know that the Pluto person can be kinda "creepy", but not about how deep it actually runs. U won't ever really know with Pluto, cuz they won't even give out 20% of their secrets - they can't help it. Unless they literally have no aspects from Pluto 2inner planets in their own natal chart.

Your Bella asteroid - 695 conjunct/trine/quintile someone’s ASC means that the ASC person finds u really beautiful, (physical attraction) 🍒🫦. With the opposition it's on & off, like sometimes yeah and other times no - It switches. With the square/quincunx - takes time, but grows into a really strong attraction, the longer you're 2gether/know each other.

Why the fuck do people think that 8th house energy is only about sex and intense connections? If a person has planets in your 8th house = that person does not like u 9/10 times. They'll talk shit about u when u ain't present/gaslight u/do things behind your back. They're usually jealous of u. Trying 2 cross your personal boundaries all the fucking time. WHO GOT TIME4THAT?? NOT ME LOVE⚠⚠.

Why do Cap inner placements/points always get a "boring", or a "cold" rep? We just don't like u? Trust me. We'll show u a good time, if we think you're worth it.

Jupiter is not only good. It enlarges EVERYTHING. So if someone has Sado asteroid (118230) conjunct Jupiter in their natal chart = a very smart/knowledgeable Sadist. They want to know everything! Hours&hours of research. They can't get enough with Jupiter! They're into some sick shit, and can use some really AGGRESSIVE ways 2 create that "pain and suffering". "shhh, I'm here baby, it's okay"🤨. 9/10 times = addiction 2 being that Sado "teacher" with Jupiter here🔞🔞. They can even brag about it!

Nessus asteroid - 7066 in synastry can definitely cause sexual attraction. But the Nessus person will always take advantage of the other person, no matter what. It may not be as "in your face"/prominent, like it is with the conjunction/square/opposition, but it will take place. Some can like Nessus contacts in synastry, if they have Nessus aspecting their own planets - especially inner planets, or points. And they can also handle Nessus energy way more, than someone who doesn't really have any Nessus contact, as they're already used to it. It doesn't make it good tho.

WOMEN with Black Moon Lilith conjunct/square/opposite Mars can hate being touched by men. Can also have trouble regarding intimacy with men in general/bc of their experiences with them🪚🪚. I have this, and if a man touches me out of nowhere = I'll punch him back 2 the year he should have stayed in a fucking condom 🦄.

Lilith asteroid - 1181) in 3rd house synastry can mean that the house persons siblings doesn't like Lilith if it's "poorly" aspected😮‍💨😮‍💨. Or that house persons siblings doesn't even want 2 try 2 create a relationship, because they already heard so much "shit" about Lilith🫠🫠.

💜 Pluto conjunct asteroid Valentine - 447) in a natal chart loves so fucking hard. They'll literally take a bullet 4 the person they love. They don't “create” a connection with anyone easy either. They're so intense when it comes 2 love, and with how they connect 2 another being. They transform/find themselves - Pluto, through those few people they do end up loving. Most people can't handle their intense ways of showing love🖤🔫.

Inner planets in Gemini degrees 3/15/27° in a natal chart are the real champions, when it comes to overthinking - but knowing everything beforehand. They already thought about ALL the different outcomes, 2 every fucking situation!🫰🫠😍🤭. They already know what time it is, before u tryna tell em.

Look at your Vertex persona chart 2 c what kind of fated things you're supposed2 go through in this life ✍👀. Make a synastry chart and c if your Vertex chart makes any significant aspects 2 your natal! It can show important life events/secret fated "events" that won't be seen in just natal or Vertex pc alone👽.

Lol, I'VE SEEN A LOT OF PEOPLE SAY THAT ARIES RISING WILL HAVE RED HAIR, OR COLOR THEIR HAIR RED AT SOME POINT? I'm an Aries rising, and I would rather get shot in the face. I'm naturally blonde, and honestly? I haven't met a single Aries rising who has red hair, or would color their hair red.

Anti - Vertex persona chart shows what YOU choose2 let into your life, and what u choose 2 do without fate intervening. It also shows u how u choose 2 act, in moments where u find no "meaning", and that's where your Vertex pc comes in right after - Fate intervening 🔮🔮.

Pluto opposite ASC/conjunct DSC in synastry can show the Pluto person deciding/or trying to at least, who the house person talks 2/surrounds themselves with. They can think a person is "bad company" 4 the house person. They can be in DSC persons business, a lot! House person is alarmed/or not, depending on how Pluto is aspected in their own chart. If Pluto is afflicted = they kinda like it.

ANYONE who has benefitted/benefits from me = a planet/point/NN/Vertex/asteroid conjunct my POF. Your POF is all the things (material/or spiritual wealth/growth), u have "picked up" on/will pick up on throughout your life. U "help" others with that planet/point or asteroid in synastry💰🦉💳.

Star asteroids - Starr - 4150), Kallisto - 204), Fama - 408), Europe - 52), actor - 12238), Lumiere - 775 - acting, Apollo - 1862), Talent - 33154), Klio - 84), Fan - 151590), Records - 30718), Varuna - 20000) Webb - 3041).

✨✨✨✨🎭🎬🎨

Music, writing&poetry asteroids - Polyhymnia - 33), Euterpe - 27), Apollo - 1862), Terpsichore - 81 - song and dance) Luscinia - 713 - Singing), Melpomene - 18, Harmonia - 40), Erato - 62), Kalliope - 22), Singer - 10698), Cantor - 16246 - singing), Poesia - 946), Parthenope - 11 - singing), Tone - 1266), Echo - 60), Mnemosyne - 57). 

🎤🎧🎼

"Lucky asteroids" - Fortuna (19), Opportunities - 39382), Paradise - 2791), Winner - 15606), Abundantia - 151), Angel - 11911), Bless - 92891), Bonus - 10028), Tyche - 258), Midas - 1981), Magion - 2696), Spirit - 37452), Nike - 307).

🍀🍀🍀

Please look at these asteroids in synastry. Prey - 6157), Sado - 118230), Devience - 21419), Nessus - 7066), Pain - 5188), Lie - 26955), Blink - 4425), Nemesis - 128), Swindle - 8690), Lilith - 1181), Hades - h41), wild - 1941), Fanatica - 1589), Medea - 212), Savage - 29837), Not - 2857), Pervert - 18624), Hard - 28077). 

🔞

THANKS4READING BABE!!

Appreciate u, always❤️

#astro community #astro notes #astro observations #astrology #astrology notes #asteroids #synastry #lilith

[girlrotterr]

Ultraviolence.

farm!ellie x fem!reader TW!: references to alcohol and substance abuse, along with instances of emotional and verbal abuse. Summary: Years after returning from Seattle, you and Ellie chose to adopt a baby, hoping to rebuild your lives after the traumatic events. However, several months later, Ellie began struggling emotionally, haunted by her past, expressing her pain through cold and distant behavior. a/n: AHHH!! soo excited to finally share this!! lmk if you angels would like a pt 2!

*⁀➷read part 2!

───── ⋆⋅☾⋅⋆ ─────

The silence of the house was abruptly broken by a cry that echoed through every corner. It was a sound you recognized instantly, a heart-wrenching feeling that never failed to make your chest tighten. Those cries belonged to your child. 

As you stood at the sink, sleeves rolled up, scrubbing away residues of dinner from the white porcelain plates – the very ones Ellie had lovingly chosen for you – memories flooded your mind. Each sponge stroke brought back moments shared with Ellie, her attention to detail in every aspect of your life together.

The kitchen, once a place of laughter and shared meals, now felt empty. The soft glow of the overhead light cast shadows across the room, emphasizing the solitude that enveloped you. How you longed for Ellie's presence, her warmth filling the space with love and comfort.

Yet, she wasn't physically absent.

She simply wasn't present.

"Go check on him," ellie muttered rudely, not even looking in your direction.

"Already on it," you replied, setting the plate down and drying your hands on a nearby cloth. 

Making your way upstairs, the cries of your child grew louder as you approached his door. Your heart ached as you recognized them all too well. Taking a deep breath, you knocked and opened the door.

Before you could utter a word, he began pouring out his troubles. He knew it was you even before the door opened, aware that you were the only one who came to check on him. His other mom…hadn't done so in a long time.

He was sobbing into his teddy bear, his red and puffy eyes avoiding your gaze.

"Why is my mommy like that?" he asked, tears staining his teddy bear. "Why is she not playing with me? Does she not love me anymore?"

Closing the door gently behind you, you settled on his bed. His voice choked with emotion, he questioned why his mother seemed distant.

"Oh honey, she loves you.” you tried soothing by rubbing his back, “she’s just… been busy, but soon enough, she'll play with you again, okay? I'll talk to her.." you assured, pulling him into your arms.

"Promise?" This time he raised his head to look at you with those wet eyes. You'd been playing the mother role for the past half a year now. How many times had you made that promise to him? 

"Pinky promise," you affirmed, feeling the weight of your words as you made yet another pledge to ease his worries.

"Thank you mama.."  He smiled weakly, clinging to you with a sense of reassurance. 

A voice in the background called your name – Ellie.

Abruptly, the heavy thuds of footsteps echoed up the stairs, her sharp voice vibrating through the silence of the hallway. 

"What are you doing?!" she snapped, her tone laced with irritation as she barged into the room, a cigarette dangling from her fingers.

"What the fuck are you staring at?" Ellie snarked,  her words cutting through the air. Her cold glare pierced through you. "Kid, go somewhere else."

As Ellie's coldness unfolded, you began to bite the inside of your cheek, a surge of anger towards her lack of empathy. The lack of interest she showed towards everyone's feelings aggravated you, you were growing exhausted. 

"Stop it.” you intervened, hoping to convey to Ellie the need for a gentler approach toward the child. As expected, Ellie brushed off your attempt, a complete disregard for how her words affected the child.

"I said fucking go!" Ellie yelled.

Your child, tears swelling, quickly left the room, the echoes of his sniffles fading behind him. Dammit, Ellie...

You shoot her a glare filled with frustration, immediately getting up to exit the room. However, Ellie quickly grabbed your arm, her grip tight and nails digging into your flesh, causing you to wince and forcefully move toward her.

"Where the fuck are you going?" she snarled.

"Argh- Ellie, I'm not.. dealing with you right now-" you remarked..

Ellie tugged your arm harshly, her stare growing more aggravated. The scent of cigarettes lingering, the scent so familiar that you had become numb to it. This was the only time Ellie would even attempt to touch you, always using it to assert her control. In all other instances, you existed as nothing, always unnoticed.

“You don’t get to decide that.” She released your arm, shutting the door firmly and positioning herself in front of it to ensure you couldn't leave. Taking another drag from her cigarette, she exhaled the smoke.

Maintaining your glare, you scoffed and went to open the window, refusing to let the smell of cigarettes fill your child's room. 

"What the fuckk are you doing?" Ellie asked, displaying no intention of stopping you, her annoyance being clear. She didn't bother pretending. 

“What does it fucking look like?” you snapped, not bothering to turn and face her. You hated it when she tried irritating you. 

Instead, your focus drifted toward the view outside the window. The sun was setting, painting the sky with hues of warm gold and soft pink, casting a gentle glow. The fields surrounding the farmhouse with lively flowers, their petals swaying in the evening breeze.

The farmhouse itself stood as a sturdy, its walls covered with trailing vines of ivy. In the distance, you could hear the faint sound of cows softly in the fields. 

Ellie remained silent, simply taking another prolonged drag of her cigarette. She didn't spare the time to respond to your snarky remarks.

“..he wanted to play with you today,” you mentioned, leaning your head against the window, fidgeting with the sleeves of your shirt. “He thinks you don’t love him.”

It had become routine for Ellie to try and get any information about what your kid shared. His troubles and worries seemed to be a curiosity for her. You never questioned it, always holding onto the hope that, in some part of her, she still truly cared.

"So?" she replied nonchalantly, walking over to you and flicking her cigarette out the window. "What's one of his little feelings to me? He's too attached anyway. It'd be good for him if I ignored him for a while." 

Ellie's gaze drifted toward the window, her eyes captivated by the familiar view. The  golden glow over the farmstead, a sight she had always cherished. It was one of the main reasons she had chosen this farmhouse for her family to live in. 

You gazed at Ellie, taking in her features. Her heavy bags from the countless sleepless nights on the couch, her once-soft pink lips now only meeting the cold bottles of alcohol she consumed in the dead of night.

“He’s not the only one who feels that way..” You remarked, still staring at her, hoping that her emerald eyes would meet yours.

Ellie's heart sank, a flicker of emotion appearing on her face.

"Shut up," she muttered coldly. She didn't bother turning to look at you; your words had clearly affected her. 

"I don't want to hear you talk. I'll do whatever I want. If I don't feel like playing with him, then I fucking won't."

She stormed off, and the moment of silence shattered. Her heavy footsteps descended the stairs. 

Without a moment's hesitation, you rushed out of your son's room, your only focus being to find him. You swiftly walked down the hallway, your pace quickening. Leaving him alone, particularly when upset, was something you hated. As you walked down the hallway…

There he was. 

In the bathroom, seated on the black and white tiled floor, clutching his teddy bear, with his face buried into his knees and headphones covering his ears.

He didn't want to witness his mothers arguing. He understood that whenever Ellie interrupted your time together, it signaled something bad. 

You observed him from the doorway painfully knowing that he didn't deserve this, enduring the harsh environment that the house had become. It pained your heart to see that he had developed coping mechanisms for these moments.

He glanced up at you, his eyes red from crying.

You gave him a soft smile, walking over and lifting him into your arms, gently wiping away the tears from his face. “I’m sorry honey, mommy needed to tell me something-”

“I know,” he said softly, nuzzling his face into your neck. He already knew all your apologies.

You kissed the top of his head, tenderly stroking his hair and swaying side to side. Your mind raced, searching for ways to lift his spirits and make up for Ellie's behavior.

“Hey, why don’t we-”

"Mama... I’m tired," he interrupted, his gaze staring off as if he was drifting from this moment. It wasn’t just physical fatigue; he was tired of it all, exhausted from feeling this way.

You nodded gently. “Okay, let’s head to bed then…”

You walked over to the sink, sitting him on the nearby stool where you usually did to brush his little teeth. The tap gushed water as you applied toothpaste to his green toothbrush covered in tiny dinosaurs, a choice Ellie had insisted upon a while back. You remember her begs of "pleaseee!!" throughout the shopping trip.

With the toothbrush in hand, you gently brushed his teeth, being careful not to hurt his sensitive gums.

“Okay, now you can spit.”

Ptui!

“All clean, mama!” he exclaimed excitedly, clapping his hands together and flashing you his newly cleaned smile.

You leaned down, planting a kiss on the top of his head. “Good job, honey!”

He carefully climbed down from the stool, making his way towards your bedroom. Sleeping with you always made him feel safe, and he eagerly headed for the bed, emitting little grunts of tiredness along the way.

Finally settling onto the bed, he lay down next to his teddy bear, giving it a small pat.

“Mama will join you after she’s done cleaning, okay?” you assured him, tucking him into his space-themed blanket. The blanket, a dark blue adorned with various planets and stars, was one of his favorites.

It was a gift from from grandpa Joel, who had been thrilled to learn about your and Ellie's news of starting a family. He couldn't contain his excitement, bombarding Ellie with endless parenting tips and even purchasing books on child development in preparation.

Joel never got to meet him. 

“Okay...” he said softly, turning away as you walked towards the door. You stared at his back, an ache overwhelming your thoughts, and all you could think about was saying, "I’m sorry." Though you knew you weren’t responsible for Ellie's behavior, you felt like you owed it to him.

You and Ellie were eagerly excited on the journey to adopt a child together, ready to try again. Jackson had many kids in need of a loving home. When you adopted your kid, you promised him a life filled with love and joy, but that promise crumbled far too quickly. 

You stepped out of the room and closed the door behind you.

Heading downstairs, you found Ellie sitting on the couch, smoking a joint and watching Breaking Bad, an episode she had already seen twice.

Resuming your routine, you began cleaning up the kitchen. Drying dishes, sweeping the floor, and wiping the countertops. All tasks you were now accustomed to doing alone.

 Ellie gradually stopped helping, a gradual drift. The same snarky excuses: “I’m too fucking tired” or “I have some work to finish up.” Eventually, she left you alone in the silent kitchen, where everything felt still.

“Goodnight,” you said, looking towards Ellie as you headed towards the stairs.

Silence.

Ellie remained motionless on the couch, smoking her joint and staring blankly at the TV. Her eyes were fixed on the screen, trying to detach herself from the world.

You took a deep breath, attempting to control your emotions and suppress the ache that surfaced every time she responded with silence. Placing your foot on the first step, you began to ascend the stairs.

"C'mere,” Ellie said, actually looking at you for once.

Your heart raced at her sudden attention, her piercing gaze catching you off guard. You walked over to her, standing in front of her. Up close, you couldn't ignore the mess she appeared to be. Her eyes were puffy and red, a foolish smirk plastered across her face.

“c’meree..” she said, motioning you to come closer. 

Ellie brought the joint to her lips, taking a long drag before blowing the smoke right into your face, giggling at how it was causing you to cough. 

She started laughing, “you look stupid.”

Irritated, you smacked the joint out of her hand. Causing ellie to jolt at the sudden movement. 

“Be fucking stupid and pick it up,” you snarled, glaring at her, your eyes piercing through her.

Ellie simply looked at you, no words, no movement, her gaze fixated on you. You couldn’t decipher the emotion behind her gaze there were thoughts behind those eyes, but you couldn’t recognize them.

Scoffing, you turned away, no longer wanting to be near her. Heading upstairs, you headed straight for the bathroom. Closing the door behind you, you looked at yourself in the mirror. Tears welled up, but you refused to let them fall. I need to be strong..she can’t..can’t win…

You couldn't help but feel stupid. Stupid for thinking she would offer you even a shred of affection. Her undivided attention, a drop of care.

Turning on the faucet, you splashed water on your face, feeling its cool touch soothe your heated skin. It was as if the water washed away the tension, calming your mind. Each droplet felt like a weight lifted off your shoulders, easing the ache you carried.

Taking a deep sigh, you began your nightly routine, another task you were accustomed to doing alone.

Slowly opening the door to your bedroom, you found your child fast asleep, clutching his teddy bear tightly in his arms and cocooned in his blanket. His gentle breaths filled the room with a sense of tranquility, a small smile gracing his lips as he slept peacefully.

In that moment, he appeared like a peaceful, angelic child, as if he were innocent and free from life's worries.

Closing the door behind you, you approached the bed, gently laying beside him, fingers caressing his soft hair, humming a melody –a melody Ellie used to sing to you back then. Never missing a chance to soothe you with her singing whenever you couldn’t sleep. 

He appeared so innocent, carrying that light within him. The idea of him being exposed to Ellie's behavior filled you with guilt. He was the reason you tolerated Ellie, not demanding for more.

You had an urge to fight for his safety and his right to happiness. All he deserved was love and affection, and ellie failed to provide it.

Pressing a kiss to his forehead, you closed your eyes, letting sleep envelop you as you tried to quiet the endless thoughts swirling in your mind.

Thud.

Sometime later in the night, you heard Ellie stumbling her way up the stairs. Her movements were unsteady, the effects of alcohol. It seemed like she hadn't slept at all. The only evidence of her rest was the blanket and pillow on the couch.

You heard the sound of ellie turning the doorknob and entering the room, not bothering to turn on the lights. The room filled with the sound of Ellie rummaging through drawers and opening closets. You had no idea what she was looking for, but she appeared determined to find it.

You tried to catch a glimpse of Ellie in the darkened room. Your eyes adjusted, and you could make out the outline of her figure as she searched. She stood there in a tank top and boxers, her arms revealing prominent veins, and her hair ruffled messily around her face.

“El’s?..” 

Startled, she jumped and stopped her search, clearly taken aback by the sudden sound of your voice. She turned around with a scowl, not bothering to whisper back.

“What?” she snapped, clearly annoyed.

"What're you… doing?" you asked sleepily, being awoken by her rummaging. 

"Nothing," Ellie replied with a heavy sigh "Go back to sleep."

You looked into her eyes, your eyes glistening in the gentle moonlight. 

Ellie was startled for a moment at the sight of the eyes that met her. But snapped herself back into reality.

"Don't… give me that look," she muttered before turning around and going back to rummaging through the drawers.

You gently extended your hand towards Ellie, wanting her to sleep with you. Your fingers moved slowly, reaching out for hers. 

She paused, her shoulders rising and falling as she took a sharp inhale of air. She sighed and then looked at you. She didn't pull away from your touch, her demeanor appearing softer as if she was trying to resist you.

"No," 

You stayed silent at her response, silently hoping for her to change her answer.

"I said No. Go… back to sleep." She tried to say firmly but her tone was softer now.

You turned away from Ellie, silently acknowledging her rejection. Each time your attempts were turned down, the familiar ache grew duller, as if numbed. You wrapped your arm around your child, closing your eyes in an attempt to drift back into sleep.

Your child's peaceful breathing filled the room, a comforting reminder of his presence. Though still awake, you could hear Ellie's silent breaths nearby. She lingered by the bed, her presence still even in the darkness. It felt as if she was trying to find a way to be near you without you knowing. 

You resembled an angel in the soft moonlight, your skin radiant. Ellie couldn't help but admire you, considering you the most beautiful sight she had ever seen—as if you were kissed by the moon. 

The night was warm, the gentle wind gentle and comforting. In this moment, you hoped to never wake up. 

Your soft hair laid on the pillow like soft and silky thread. Your gentle breathing was soothing. Your body looked like a painting created by heaven itself. You were its beautiful muse and the moon was the painter showing its admiration.

Ellie couldn't help but gaze at you, her eyes lingering on your lips for a moment longer than usual. She then looked down at your child, peacefully nestled with you For an instant, a longing for love stirred within her, a feeling she hadn't experienced in a very long time. It reminded her of the days when you both were deeply in love.

Your body was so peaceful, ellie found herself entranced, her eyes tracing every curve and line. Ellie felt an overwhelming desire to simply…admire you, to preserve your presence. 

Without a second thought, Ellie found herself slowly lying down beside you, her body acting with impulse. The comfort of the bed and the softness of the cotton sheets gave her a warmth that she had long forgotten.

She pressed her body as close as she could get it against yours. Her hands folded under her chin, as if she was too afraid to touch you. 

She found herself lost, aching for a connection she feared to ignite. 

#ellie angst #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie fanfic #ellie x y/n #farm ellie #ellie fanfiction

[princessbrunette]

Rafe cameron deffff watches you do your makeup just so he can imagine fucking you and ruining it💪

this took a random turn kinda

you’re sat at your dresser, the light bulbs attached to the mirror illuminating your visage. rafe stands a little ominously behind you, chewing on a hangnail on his middle finger and you ignore him, used to his looming, quiet yet curious presence. your nails clack against the pink glittery wand of your blush brush as you lift it, dusting it across the supple apples of your cheeks and upwards towards your cheekbone.

“whats that do?” he asks a little flatly, not wanting to sound too interested — he was a big manly man after all. everything you did intrigued him however, in his more quieter and calm moments enjoying studying you. perhaps he was antsy because he just wanted to leave the house with you already, and you were taking your time.

“makes your cheeks pretty.” you explain simply, like a mother dismissing a curious child. he wanders around the room casually, watching you through the mirror. you note how cute he looks in his north face fleece, cuddly almost. you smile, unscrewing your lipgloss and lifting the wand to paint it on.

“great.” he stuffs his hands in his pockets with an exaggerated sigh. you freeze in confusion, lips agape assuming the position to apply the gloss.

“what?” your brows furrow cutely, bottom lip pouted and his dick twitches, fist clenching in his pocket. it never took much with rafe.

“y’know, i can’t kiss you if you’re wearing that shit. makes everything all sticky.” he squints, lifting a hand from his pocket in gesture, lifting a hand accusingly to the gloss in your hand. you don’t get the chance to say anything, he speaks up again. “you’re gonna have to…” he sighs again, lowering his voice to be more serious and stepping up to where you sit on your stool, now gazing up at him through painted black lashes. “y’gonna have to take it all off anyway.” he tilts his head a little, the lilt in his voice suggesting a threat was present.

you sigh, turning your body on the stool to face him. “rafe,” you whine, used to his ways. “why?” you wonder what he’d come up with this time, perhaps a new way to be controlling, telling you to take off your makeup because you only need to look pretty for him, or some narcissistic bullshit like that. his lips press flat as his other hand leaves his pocket, coming up to cup your jaw with a surprising gentleness. he tilts your face up a little more so the light from the dim ceiling lamp illuminates you evenly.

“because it’s gonna get all over my white sheets. that’s just kind of… a hassle, huh?” his left eye twitches a little at the same time he tilts his head a smidgen, his voice dropping to a low whisper. oh. you think, lips gaping.

“you wanna f—fuck me, right now?” your voice gets all breathy and pathetic, at almost nothing — just how he liked you and he smiles, cute and boyish and oh so maliciously.

“yeah, i do.” he takes your arm and pulls you to stand, nearly falling into his chest as you do so. you always look so helpless and that makes him feel so powerful, it’s no wonder he kept you around. “i… i think i like it the most when you cry off your makeup. all that black shit under your eyes. i almost feel bad.” he leans his head down a little so he’s closer to your level, and he’s speaking to you in a sympathetic quiet voice, as if it can convince you that his words aren’t a little mean.

“ugh but i just spent ages getting read—”

he cuts off your words with a little slap to the cheek. it’s not hard, believe it or not rafe doesn’t direct his physical rage towards you (not like that, anyway.) but it’s enough to shock you a little with a sting, your eyes filling with tears as if fulfilling his request. the flash of irritation that appeared on his face disappeared into that malicious smile again as he softly transformed the hand that slapped you into a finger pointed at your face. “i said… almost, a’ight?” he soothes a thumb over your hot cheek and you pout, despite everything enjoying his affection and undivided attention. god you’re messed up.

“don’t like when you get all mouthy n’start answering back.” he drawls, his eyes now leaving your own to drag down your body, eyeing your sundress as if deciding what he wants to paw at first. he settles on gripping the hem of it, slowly pulling it up until it gathers at your waist. “i’m gonna have to calm you down, now.” he’s nudging your thighs open with his hand and you’re letting him, gripping his fleece in your two hands for leverage as he cups your cunt through your panties. “hm. knew you’d want that. always do.”

#anon #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe obx smut #rafe cameron blurb

[futureman]

his favorite girl, part ii

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: keeping things professional only works if both parties are in agreement. after a heated first lesson, it's clear you and joel aren't.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, no outbreak, guitar teacher!joel, age gap (30 years), slow-burn, smut, angst, m&f masturbation, mentions of regret and shame

word count: 3.6k

series masterlist | part i

Adrenaline hasn't stopped pumping through your veins since you left your guitar teacher's house. Joel's house.

It's hard to even think his name now that you know what it's like to moan it for him, to feel his body tense and tighten like nylon strings as you tune him to your pitch. The things that man could teach you with all of his experience and endless patience...wait, no. No.

How to play guitar—that's the only thing you need from Joel Miller. Nothing else. God, what the hell is wrong with you? That stupid daydream has been running through your head on a loop ever since you got home and it really shouldn’t be. It was a mistake, one that almost cost you your entire future, and yet you’re still so hung up on it.

On everything you learned during your short, disastrous guitar lesson, the intimate knowledge you’ll never be able to forget. Like the fingering for the chord he showed you, or that he makes the neediest sounds when his body's pressed up against yours and his fingers are so close to where you need him, inches away from—

Stop.

The freezing cold shower you just took is about to be rendered useless at the rate you're going, and tomorrow’s lesson won’t be far behind if you can’t get your shit together.

But you can’t stop yourself from wondering—how much of it was real? You toss your hair over your shoulder, ignoring the icy droplets trickling down your back, and the bruise you’d imagined he left isn’t there. Instead, the mirror taunts you, reflecting smooth, unmarred skin that only serves as a harsh reminder of your fuck-up.

You’re more disappointed than you should be. It would've been the only piece of physical evidence you had proving what happened earlier wasn't all in your head. That maybe he reciprocates even a fraction of what you feel. But it's for the best. Now you can move on and focus all of your mental energy on staying present tomorrow so he won't rescind his offer to continue your lessons.

You'll have to keep things totally professional. The diligent college student, eager to learn and dedicated to her studies—that’s you, all right. It shouldn’t be that hard to stay focused for one measly hour, not when those thick, talented fingers of his are so captivating and capable of so many useful things. Guiding you through the next few bars of that song, slipping beneath the waistband of your—

Fuck it, you're doomed.

There's no way you can handle this. He's just too distracting, and you're way too easily distracted. Judging by the way he reacted to your inappropriate behavior earlier, you're starting to wonder if he can handle it himself. He was a little too quick to touch you, to sit so close that you could feel every instruction he gave you rumbling in his chest.

That familiar heat’s starting to build in your belly, and you know it’ll boil over the second he’s within reach again. You have to get this in check before you see him tomorrow or you’ll be royally screwed, and not even remotely in the way you’d like to be.

But it’s getting harder by the minute. It’s all too fresh in your mind, and you can practically still feel the drag of calluses across your skin and the weight of his arm slung over your shoulder. His fingers twitching in your desperate grasp like he was just itching to trace a knuckle down the soaked fabric between your legs.

You don’t remember how or when you got into bed, but you suddenly find yourself lying on top of your damp, unfastened towel, your bare breasts exposed to the cool air of your bedroom, and your fingers grazing your hardening nipples as you snake them down your body.

The second your fingers slide through your embarrassingly wet folds, you're a lost cause. God, that's good. You're so wet for him, and he's not even here to see you, to feel what he does to you.

You press down on your clit and pretend it's his solid chest tucked against you instead of your shitty dorm mattress, and his rough fingertips swirling masterful circles around your slick nub before dipping achingly slowly inside you.

Shit, you're going to cum soon, so much quicker than you normally do. But maybe this is exactly what you need to get him out of your system. Maybe cumming as many times as you can to the thought of your hot, middle-aged guitar teacher is all it'll take for you to finally get over this stupid, dangerous schoolgirl crush. To get on with your life and earn your fucking college degree.

Joel Miller. You erupt around your fingers with his name hot and heavy on your lips, but it’s…not enough. It's fine, that's totally fine. You'll just go again. As many times as it takes.

But by your third orgasm in as many hours, you realize you’re only making it worse. The aching emptiness you feel every time you cum is almost unbearable. Even as you fuck yourself on three of your fingers, desperately trying to fill yourself up the way he would, it's still not enough.

It’s not him.

God, what are you supposed to do now? Can you really face him tomorrow knowing that you spent the entire night gushing around your fingers, pretending they were his?

And what if he tries to touch them again? Shit. Shit. You just keep making dumber and dumber decisions when it comes to him.

So...maybe you can forgive yourself for making one more. You know that you couldn't have imagined everything earlier. That dark, hungry look in his eyes when he told you flat out that he didn't pull away from you on purpose—he has to want you as much as you want him. Right?

He just needs a nudge in the right direction. A green light so he can push aside those polite, southern manners just long enough for you to both get what you need. Then, you can continue your lessons distraction-free.

After all, you did your finger exercises tonight just like he told you to, and teaching is always more effective with a little positive reinforcement.

Yeah, this will totally work.

Joel’s been rock hard ever since you left his house.

He’s still sitting on the couch in the same spot you occupied just a few hours earlier, his mind running a mile a minute, hands clenched painfully at his sides so he doesn't touch himself.

Christ, you're young. Much too young to be this desperate over or to consume his every thought the way you have since you shoved his hand between your thighs, moaning his name like his fingers were already buried in your tight cunt.

He can't do this. His own fantasies are starting to concern him. He's never this vulgar. Not since he was a stupid kid in high school, picking up girls and bragging about it to his buddies. But that's how you make him feel. Like a stupid, horny kid.

C'mon, dirty old man. Get your shit together.

This is why he never should've agreed to start taking on students. The second you walked through his front door, he should've known he was in for it. Those bright eyes, ever-observant and eager to learn, and delicate hands, clutching the handle of a guitar case much smaller than his own. He wanted to help you with your class, he really did.

Wants. He wants to help you, but he feels like he can't trust himself around you anymore, if he ever did in the first place. Still, he made his old bandmate—your professor, now, he guesses—a promise that he didn't intend to break. Not until he actually met the student in question and discovered, to his horror, that you were his every wet dream come to life.

When you picked up your tiny guitar, a baby version of his own Taylor six-string, and began to strum clumsily with your beginner's touch, he couldn't help himself.

All he could think about were those dainty fingers wrapped around his cock. Teaching you how to stroke him just right, his hand guiding yours up and down his length the way yours were shifting up and down the neck of your guitar as you hopped from fret to fret.

Shit, he's fucking hard.

It's not going away anytime soon, either. Maybe if he just...takes care of it. Jerks off, quick and dirty, thinking about the smooth pad of your thumb circling the head of his cock while he leaks precum onto your fingers. He'd cum so quickly imagining himself splattering his release across your plush lips, his name on the tip of your tongue.

His jeans are halfway down his thighs before he can think twice about it, and he hisses in a sharp breath when he finally begins to pump himself, tight and focused toward the tip just like he'd tell you to.

He was right. He's not going to last long. That's probably a good thing. The faster he can get you out of his system, the better, and then he can forget all of the things he did to you. He's more than ashamed at how quickly his balls start to tighten when he remembers how intimately you let him touch you. How fucking crazy you drove him.

The living room fills with the echoes of his stuttered groans and skin slapping against skin as he frantically fucks his fist, lost in the memory of his lips dragging across your bare shoulder and the heel of his hand grinding into your soaked, clothed pussy.

Then, he hears it so clearly through the haze of his pleasure—your voice whimpering his name, begging him to take care of you. He barely has enough time to tug up his shirt before he's cumming hard across his stomach and dribbling down his knuckles. Christ, you'd look so fucking good on your knees right now, sucking the release off his fingers.

Not good.

What the hell is happening to him? This desire, this need, it isn't who he is. And all of it over a beautiful girl. A very, very beautiful girl. He sighs, running his clean hand frustratedly down his face, fighting to ignore the cum drying uncomfortably on his skin.

It's not just that, and he knows it. It isn't your youth, either. It's...your passion. Your kindness and determination, even in the face of adversity.

It's you.

But he can't have you, no matter how much he aches to. You deserve better than an old, washed-up musician with bad knees and high blood pressure. You need someone who can really take care of you, and he's already decided that isn't him.

Come tomorrow, he'll keep things professional like he said he would. He'll keep his distance and teach you everything he has to offer. Be the guitar teacher he should've been from the beginning.

You're both adults, perfectly capable of controlling yourselves long enough to get through an hour-long lesson.

Yeah, this'll work.

You're late.

Not a great start to your second lesson, but then again, that seems to be your M.O. these days. Not this day, though. Today, all of that changes.

You take a deep, steadying breath before your fist connects with sun-bleached oak, and do your best to focus on the warm, mid-September breeze instead of the impatience and anticipation threatening to swallow you whole.

Now that you're back here, standing on his porch, you're beginning to realize you're actually excited to see him. The anxiety you felt last night has given way to a strange sense of relief and a fresh wave of want. It's like your body can sense him and all of the things you're about to learn and experience.

His broad figure comes into view through the foggy glass paneling of his front door, and then after a strenuous 24 hours, your guitar teacher is within reach again—Joel. His name is Joel. You’re going to have to get used to saying it without your breath catching in your throat or he’ll know. He'll see your intentions clear as day and you'll never get to moan it for him again.

“Hey, you, uh...ya made it," he says breathily, frowning down at his watch. He's panting, and there's a gentle flush spreading from his cheeks down to his neck, disappearing under the collar of his navy blue T-shirt. “I was startin' to get a little worried there."

You smile apologetically, turning to nod back at the piece of shit Chevy parked in his driveway. It's old as dirt and somehow always manages to act up when the weather gets too hot.

"I had some car trouble," you tell him sheepishly, throwing a disdainful look over your shoulder before facing him again. "I should've called. I'm sorry."

He shakes his head, offering you a small, if not subtly strained, smile in return. You can tell he's relieved you didn't call, even if he's too polite to say it.

"S'alright, m'just glad you're here now," he says tightly, shifting from one foot to the other as he continues to stand awkwardly in the doorway.

Well, this isn't good. You can take a pretty decent guess as to why he's acting so strange, but you're not sure how to even begin diffusing the situation. Inviting yourself in wouldn't be a terrible first step, but he already seems nervous as hell, and you're afraid he'll spook.

He's still thinking about yesterday. It's evident in his stance and the tension visibly building in his biceps and shoulders. What you wouldn't give to relieve some of that stress—but you can't do much of anything while you're still stuck at an impasse, sizing each other up for two very conflicting reasons.

Hiking your guitar case higher up on your shoulder, you gesture as delicately as you can to the door he's still hiding behind.

"Is it okay, um—should I...come inside?" you stumble over your suggestion, your words conveying none of the confidence and allure you'd hoped for.

Come on, buck up. Be the girl who made him question his self-control; the girl who made his eyes turn so dark, you thought you'd lose yourself in them and never find your way out. You meet those same eyes again with a playful darkness of your own.

"Or did you wanna continue what we started yesterday out here on your porch?"

He does startle at that, but luckily it's the push he needs to finally let you into his home.

"Y-yeah, yes. M'sorry, 'course ya can," he mutters, shaking his head as if he'd been in a trance the entire time. "Didn't mean to keep ya standin' there. Come, uh...Christ, come on in."

Good. Entranced is good.

He holds the door open for you like a perfect gentleman, and your chest drags across his as you squeeze past his large frame and into the entryway. It’s an unsubtle and potentially cheap move, but neither of you pretends it wasn’t on purpose. He sucks in a harsh breath, seizing up until you're past him and taking in the quiet comfort of his living room.

Last time, you'd been too distracted to notice all of the little details and odds and ends that make the space so distinctly Joel, but now that you're really paying attention, it's...charming. The stacks of CDs next to his guitar stand, some in cases and some not, and the varying brown tones of his shag rug and leather couch feel warm and inviting. Just like the man who spends his days and nights here.

Being here suddenly feels intimate in a different capacity than before. Heat begins to bloom in your chest instead of between your legs at the idea of creating music together, a variation all your own, heavily influenced by the history all around you. The abrupt shift takes you by surprise, but it's not unwelcome. If anything, it increases your sense of urgency.

So you let it draw you in, back to where your next lesson and, hopefully, everything you have in store for Joel will take place. That same cushy spot you dreamt about all night while you fucked yourself with your fingers, and that he, unbeknownst to you, lingered while he fucked his fist to thoughts of you.

Looking back over your shoulder, you catch him watching you. There's a curiosity there and an undercurrent of something darker that makes your stomach swoop. He's still flushed, even more so than before, despite his AC kicking to cut the heat and oppressive humidity you brought in with you.

But then he blinks and it's gone again. Left in its place are the kind, if not extremely guarded, eyes of your patient guitar teacher. He's so good at that. Maybe a little too good.

You twist around, heaving the soft case off your shoulder so you can plop down on the couch. He winces out of the corner of your eye when you land on his spot, and his fingers twitch restlessly at his sides as you pull out your guitar and set it across your lap. Lifting an eyebrow, you wait for him to make a move, but he seems stuck in place. Conflicted, almost, like he's fighting himself.

You need him closer. You need him to loosen up. Most of all, you need those thick, insistent fingers inside you before you lose your damn mind.

"Joel? You coming?" you ask expectantly, moving your hands into place over the frets and strings.

At that, he downright grimaces but nods nonetheless. He mumbles something under his breath that sounds a lot like self-admonishment as he putters across the room to pluck his guitar from its stand.

Instead of sitting beside you, he pulls up a chair in front of you, putting enough distance between himself and the couch so you can heed his instructions, but not be tempted to touch. Whether that's for his benefit or yours, you're not entirely sure, but you shiver at the thought. He notices.

"Y'need me to turn down the AC? 'Cus I can handle that real quick before we get started," he sounds a little too eager to get away from you again, so you hurriedly reach out to grab his hand before he can make his escape.

"Woah, hold your horses. It's totally okay. I'm not cold, I promise," you try to reassure him with a chuckle, attempting to soothe the palpable tension in the air. Those rough, time-hardened fingertips brush against the delicate skin of your inner wrist, and you instinctively tug him closer.

But he resists. He carefully pulls out of your grasp and sits back down, returning to a safe distance and refusing to make eye contact.

That's not a good sign. At all. You can't help but feel a little ashamed at his reaction. It was never your intention to push him, but you also hadn't expected him to be repelled by just the sight of you.

Maybe you misunderstood your last conversation? Or maybe it really was all in your head, even after you stopped daydreaming. It's entirely possible you only saw what you wanted because you wanted him. You bite your lip anxiously, shifting away to offer him more space.

"Hey, is everything okay? You seem kind of...off today," you press him hesitantly. "Look, if this is about yesterday—"

"S'nothin' like that. We agreed it was water under the bridge, right? Two adults keepin' things professional," he cuts you off, kindly yet firmly dismissing your concerns.

He meets your eyes again, and they're clearer, now. His voice, too—unwavering and more sure than it's been since you got here.

Oh. This is a reminder. A gently worded warning for both of you.

Okay, that's totally okay. It has to be. He's right, anyway. You keep forgetting how important these lessons are, and he's just being the reasonable, responsible adult who wants to keep you on track, no matter how nervous you make him.

Shit, you wish that didn't turn you on so much. You tell yourself to ignore it. Your mission's a bust, anyway, and he's clearly not interested. You ignore how badly that hurts, too, while you're at it.

"Yeah, of course. Totally professional," you repeat back dejectedly, and you will yourself to mean it. But he never makes it easy, does he?

"That's my girl," he smiles so, so handsomely, and you're forced to bite back a frustrated groan.

How he manages to look so genuine and innocent while he says things like that, you'll never understand. What's worse, you have no doubt he actually is.

Joel Miller. 56 years old. Your generous guitar teacher whose only goal is to share his craft in that syrupy sweet twang that sounds like the sweetest music to your ears.

Just your luck.

thanks for reading & stay tuned for part iii <3

(dividers by @saradika & @inklore)

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

[tightjeansjavi]

snooze

A/N: this is all @corazondebeskar fault 🥺

~Word Count: 717~

Summary: Joel loves to nap

Pairing | Joel Miller x f!reader

Warnings: none, domestic fluff, soft!joel, peepaw!joel and a sprinkle of angst, readers nickname is honeypie and lady, reader has no physical descriptions (given the content of my blog, all fics are +18 minors dni!)

The last thing Joel Miller ever expected after the outbreak was finding himself in a domestic situation where he had the luxury of fucking napping.

He loved to nap.

Sometimes he’d fall asleep in the porch chair out on the back deck with the sun warming his face. He’d set his guitar down to the side, cross his arms over his chest and mumble about how he’s just gonna rest his eyes for a few minutes.

When you come outside to check on him, he’s snoozing, soft snores slipping past his plush lips. Face relaxed, and the once permanent furrow of his brows is no longer present.

Sometimes after dinner he’d situate himself on the couch with you and Ellie on either side of him while he lets Ellie pick out a movie to watch. He’ll argue that he won’t fall asleep..this time. But between the blanket draped over his legs, and Ellie curled up with her head in his lap, he’s dozing off with his head resting on your shoulder.

His favorite time to nap is arguably right after lunch. Specifically Sunday’s because it’s the one day out of the week where he’s not on patrol, and he gets to spend his whole day with you.

The sunroom is a new addition that he and Tommy built together. There’s a built-in bookshelf along the wall that is brimming with all different genres of books. There’s even some house plants. The main star of the room is the cozy chaise lounge. It’s a bit faded, and has seen better days, but he loves it.

His eyes are already droopy when you move to get up from the spot you were sitting on. He loved it when you would read to him, and today’s book was Wuthering Heights.

“Where you goin’,honeypie?” He rasps, peeking one eye open to look over at you.

You place your hand over his covered knee, squeezing it gently before you lean over and press a soft kiss to his cheek, and then his lips. “Laundry is probably done by now. I’ll be right back, okay?” You brush away a few strands of his soft curls. He’s been growing his hair out lately, and the grays in his beard are more prominent. You’ve never stopped loving this man, and he’s never stopped loving you.

“Hurry back, please. Miss you already.” He murmurs, lips curving into a lazy grin.

He’s a sap. A real softy now that he has no reason to fear. You and Ellie, and this town have turned a lion into a house cat.

“You’re a real softy, Joel Miller.” You whisper and brush away a few stray breadcrumbs from his patchy beard.

“Mhm. ‘S’cus’ of you, lady.” He teases gently.

You peck his lips once more, lulling him to close his eyes. Rest, Joel. You have all the time in the world to sleep. To love. To relax. To live. All the time, my love.

His lashes flutter as he sinks further into the couch, awaiting your return so he can snuggle with you once more.

Taking care of the laundry and tidying up the kitchen takes all of 10 minutes for you to complete. You find yourself thinking about the days when 10 minutes could either mean life or death. 10 minutes used to feel like 10 seconds. To run. To hide. To fight. 10 minutes now felt like 10 hours. 10 years.

You and Joel fought hard for this life of peace and not a day goes by where you don’t feel grateful for it all.

When you return to the sunroom, one of his legs is sticking out from under the quilted blanket, and he’s sprawled out entirely. His skin holds a warm glow from the trickling sunlight coming in through the windows.

He senses your presence even in his light slumber, and his arms subconsciously reach for you.

I’m here. You reassure him as his eyes open, droopy with sleep. He looks scruffy and soft at the same time. A big ole teddy bear; all yours.

Missed you. He murmurs softly as his arms wrap around your middle, pulling you back against his strong chest.

Missed you too, Joel. You melt into his warm embrace. Heartbeats steady, calm and at peace.

Two house cats basking in the sunlight, bellies full, and hearts warm.

Banners made by the lovely @saradika 🤍

I no longer have a taglist so please follow @tightjeansjaviupdates for fic updates and notifications!

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel x you #joel x reader #soft!joel miller #joel miller fluff #joel miller imagine #joel miller drabble #joel the last of us #joel miller fic #post outbreak joel

[hwathinker]

"aww, why are you crying baby? come on, i'm gonna take a break now can i?"

pairings ; best friend!yunho x fem!reader warnings ; i don't think there is.. (i'm joking.. there's cockwarming, blowjobs(?), petnames) just yunho being a tease and annoying.. i really love the cocky + nerdy concept on yunho ;) wn ; hey! i finally got a free time today, so i decided to spend it on writing something. i'll be taking requests by the way! i'm hoping to see some smutty reqs from ya'll hahaha

"come on y/n, its not that hard to memories these shit." yunho said, poking your head which was buried to the book you were supposed to read. you had spent over an hour in his apartment, just for a study session. you also promised yourself to study for real this time but i guess the tiredness and laziness in you held you back. you shook your head aggressively, making him stop touching you. "y/n, we have a really tight schedule and i know you know that. plus our presentation is in 3 days. spend your time studying so you won't have to struggle to go out with me." you shot your head up as soon as yunho mentioned about going out. your parents doesn't really let you go out unless you do something great in school. but with pleasing them by doing house chores, you know you could get out easily. well, not every time.

"ugh.. how many times do i have to read these?!" pointing at the open book, you looked at him. "if you really want me to memories this then how about you?" you held the book up close to your face, shooting your eyes up to him then at the book back to make sure he isn't peeking. yunho sighed, letting go of his pen and turning to you. he looked at the book title, making a face to remember something. "well, physics huh.. what page are you in?" he asked, shifting his body and putting his arm on the table so that he can rest his head on his fist with his cheeks. you quickly went to the first page, knowing that he doesn't pay that much attention on a first page of a book. "uh.. page one. i'm not telling you what it is though." you said, burying your head to the book once again and shifting you gaze between the book and yunho every 4 seconds. yunho smiled, pretending to remember what was on the first page. "physics is the natural science of matter, involving the study of matter, its fundamental constituents, its motion and behavior through space and time, and the related entities of energy and force." you read what was on the page along with what he said, your eyes slowly going wide as he do.

"the fuck?! how in the earth did you remember every damn word in this one ass page?!" you slammed the green book on the table, going up close to him with rage in you. "i don't know, maybe i started to pay attention to the first page now. or maybe not, because i'm smart." he said, going back to his position and continue his revision. "or maybe.. you could help cover for me?" you said, leaning your head on the table as you puppy eyed him as you smile. yunho gave you a silent answer, which was a no. "come on yun, i know you like obeying me." you teased again, smiling ever so widely. "how about you study or i fuck that mouth off." he shift his gaze to you, placing down the pen under his palm.

you pouted, covering your face with your hand. yunho let out a small chuckle, grabbing you by your waist to get you more close. "i've never seen you this shy, y/n. you always fight back my teasings." he said, laying head head on the table too, close to your covered face. "i'd rather have a cock inside me for long enough than having to suck one that has a possibility of piss on it." you mumbled, hoping he won't hear a single thing when he's just right there, in front of you. yunho took your hand away from your face, meeting his eyes that was already staring at you. "do you want to try?" he bit his bottom lip, smiling lightly. you think, furrowing your eyebrows and pouting your lips. "i don't know. so you're hard?" you looked at his reddening face as your hand quickly went to his.. harden clothed dick. oh he is. yunho slaps your hand away quickly, holding them in his big ones. "suck it." he ordered, watching your smile grew wider. "why so needy? were you already planning this all along?" you said, shifting closer to him so there's no more space between the both of you. "sure. i'll do it. but you'll have to do a favor for me, too." you said again,getting up from the table and wait for him to strip. he stood up, sliding his sweats down and place them beside the table. but this time, he went to the sofa, sitting on it then leaning comfortably back while manspreading.

you looked at him with lust, his tongue going over his bottom lips, wetting them then biting them afterwards. he watches you walk towards him, your knee purposely hitting his crotch as you lean in to give his jaw a nice lingering kisses, to his lips. "how long have you been keeping this from me, hm?" you mumbled in the kiss, enjoying his taste. "ever since you appeared like a damn angel in front of me and decided to become my friend." he held your jaw with his hand, caressing them. you ran your hand from his bicep, down to his chest. gently touching every part as possible to make him shudder. you pulled away from the kiss, going down as he watches your every move. your tits, holding onto its dear life in the top you had. it looked like it want to pop out in any second you make a risky move. and your tight low rise jeans. ah, don't mention it anymore. he loves it when you wear that kind of clothes.

after you had took off his boxer, his dick sprung out, precum leaking to his base. "fuck, who are you going big for? me?" you said, grabbing his cock gently, kissing the pink aching tip. he hissed in pleasure, throwing his head back. "who else do i have to keep this dick for? of course it was for you, angel." oh god, that nickname has you every time. you licks his cock slowly, going down and fitting the whole base in your mouth. as you suck him off. him, on the other hand are sweating, tears started to form in that boy's eyes. he had his hands placed prettily under your chin so he has a better view while the other caress your hair ever so sweetly. he is this sweet when receiving a blowjob? oh you could do this everyday if it means he is. "mmh, such a good girl. other boys must not be this thick, right? i know you enjoy this so much, baby." he said in between moans, grunts. you swirl your tongue, making a popping sound when letting his cock go. he felt empty, and cold.

yunho pouted, watching his dick being held and watched by you. "y/n.. why did you do that? more please.." he begged, grabbing your free hand and holding them in his. "i want a favor back." you gently pump his cock, watching him biting his bottom lip. "what is it hm..?" he hummed, thinking about what you possibly want. you leaned and lay your cheeks on his cock, looking up to him. "i want you to cover for me for the presentation soon."

and that, you were being sat on his lap while he does his revision. your top thrown away even god don't know where, your jeans and red panties thrown at the sofa. now, you're being forced to sit on his dick that has cummed a few times because you moved a little. you were facing behind, hugging him so tightly, hoping to not make a certain move or he takes a break to play with your hardened tits again. i said, again. you shuddered at the feeling of his liquid constantly coming out and its touching your walls. "y/n baby, don't move please? i've said this a thousandth times already." as he put his pen down, he pulled you so that you're leaning on the edge of the table and facing him. "aww, why are you crying baby? come on, i'm can take a break now can i?"

--

hehe a small yunho smut for ya'll <3 i miss this man so much and have you seen his airport look? god damn i would devour every single inch of it. and have ya'll seen seonghwa's gianna boyfriend?? goshh if he's not putting a shirt on i'm gonna suck those tits LMAO lmk if theres any error guys.. and remember to drop some hot ass smut thoughts on my inbox please im beggin u

#ateez x reader #ateez #hwathinker⦮⑅⦯ #ateez smut #ateez fic #ateez imagines #ateez drabbles #jeong yunho #yunho smut #ateez hard hours #atz smut #yunho #jeong yunho smut #yunho x reader #yunho imagine #yunho fic #jeong yunho fic #jeong yunho imagine #yunho hard hours

[an-idyllic-novelist]

Husk with Violet Evergarden!reader scenario

warnings: aged-up!reader [early to late twenties], spoilers for episode 4 to the season finale, mentions of physical abuse and attempted drugging, violence, Husk's language, dismemberment, mentions of cannibalism.

Hey guys, and welcome to another Hazbin Hotel fics, this time featuring our grumpy bartender and one of my favorite characters, Husk! :) This is a collaborated project with not just @isuckatwritingsobenice, but also with @vikkirosko, @witch-of-the-writing-desk, and @riddle-simp, who gave me honest feedback on the rough drafts and how to make it the best fic I could create before sharing it with the world.

If you would like to see more of Husk x Violet, please do let me know know in the comments section or as an ask! Like always, bullying is not tolerated here so if there is any implication of it happening here, this scenario will be taken down immediately. If you have nothing nice to say, do not say it at all.

With that being said, sit back, relax, and let's see who will win the full house at the card tables tonight :)

Reblog to support content creators!

Husk isn’t gonna deny it. It ain’t like him to deny the truth when it’s staring at him right in the fucking face. He thinks you are a little bit of an oddball. You don’t smile, you wear the same outfit every day, and you don’t eat much either unless Niffty practically drags you to the staff’s dining room from wherever she found you hiding. Normally, it’s one of two places: out in the backyard, or the greenhouse, because you’re the hotel’s groundskeeper. And that was on your days off.

 Like Angel, you worked for an overlord, but your boss wasn’t that shitbag Valentino or Vox or Velvette. Your boss is Rosie, the owner of Rosie’s Emporium in the Cannibal Colony. You were her personal secretary. You had been on her payroll for over ten years, working from nine to five unless you had to stay later. She did not seem to mind you staying at the hotel so long as it did not affect her reputation or your work ethic in any way. 

So far you’ve kept your word. Alastor actually seemed to be happy that you were around. 

Maybe. Husk couldn’t fucking tell what that son of a bitch is thinking anymore. But back to you. 

You, who believed in Charlie’s work.

You, who participated in each activity and helped around without getting paid for your time.

You, the expressionless ex-military soldier, has been on his mind recently and he did not like it. 

He lost the ability to feel anything years ago. 

Nonetheless he continued to observe you from afar. When you weren’t busy with watering plants, you were seen in different parts around the hotel with the others. 

You would sit with the princess in the parlor, comparing ideas on what tomorrow’s group exercise should be, even when the only two ideas you’ve suggested were shot down immediately by Charlie. She didn’t like the idea of group bonding through hand-to-hand combat but loved the concept of showing appreciation to one another through handwritten letters. Vaggie approved the former. The latter? Not so much. 

In the kitchen you would go through the cookbook with Niffty and Alastor, trying to decide on tonight’s dinner.  They allowed you to help out, at least when it didn’t involve cracking eggs. Apparently you were not very good at separating the yolk. 

When Sir Pentious was away from the hotel doing God knows what, he trusted you to look after the Egg Bois until he got back. You kept them busy around the greenhouse though they tended to make a bit of a mess. 

Angel started to work extra late at the studio after his show and tell presentation. Something about making a big commercial and Val wanted to make big bucks on this new product that the Vees were launching in a week. You must have noticed that something was off about him, but you didn’t say anything to him. No words of encouragement, no comforting hand on his shoulder. All you did was clench your gloved hands into fists, watching him leave and…unsure of yourself. What you should do. 

Husk heard you asking Niffty what were some of the kid’s favorite foods about that time, and she was more than happy to help you with whatever it was you needed as long as you left the kitchen sparkling when you were done. You were concerned about the kid. Least from what he could remember. He drank a lot that day. 

When he woke up much later after falling asleep at the bar, hearing your footsteps descend down the grand staircase and towards the kitchen. Groggily, probably stupidly on his part, Husk thought it would be a great idea to know what the fuck you were up to so early in the morning. Turns out you were trying to cook something, judging from how you looked at the ratty cookbook propped up on the counter and the wide array of ingredients spread out. 

He saw you cook  finely chopped onions, garlic, and minced ground meat in the large frying pan on the left side of the stove. You stirred something in a smaller sauce pan on the right side with a wooden spoon. He saw you handle all of the ingredients with great care, placing them in a baking dish  even when you weren’t wearing your leather gloves. A small shudder crawled down his spine at how the kitchen lights bounced off of the adamantium skeletal prosthetics that acted as your hands. 

He didn’t even wanna know how exactly you lost them in the Great War. 

Everything was soon laid out, layer by layer and placed in the oven. He didn’t know he stood there for so long, even when you began to clean up the kitchen with a rag. Time ticked by slowly, and then a delicious aroma tickled his nose even as he took another swing of the half-filled booze bottle he was holding. He was about to leave you alone, knowing you’d be fine when he saw you pull out the dish with your hands and no oven mittens on, you fucking moron! Then his mind remembered something that stopped him from making an entrance. You couldn’t feel anything with your prosthetics, not even as you placed it on the stove top to let it sit. 

A couple of hours later - maybe he can’t keep track of time anymore so it might have been the following morning - he saw you giving Angel a large paper bag every morning before both of you left the hotel, and telling him to have a good day. 

Angel grudgingly thanked you later on that evening when he got back…though did say your garlic bread needed some work. The next day, he gave you a paper bag, telling you to taste real Italian grub and try to replicate it. 

Guess it became a game between the two of you, ‘cause Angel was slowly being someone real and not some fake  whiny bitch. 

As odd as you are….you cared about everyone in your own way, even when the words that came out of your mouth angered someone or made them cry, you tried. You never asked for help unless it was necessary, trying to learn everything on your own. And you were smart, Husk will give you that. 

And he…he doesn’t know if he had the heart to tell you that redemption might not be possible. Unlike him, you still carried a spark of hope. You believe in the princess. He doesn’t want to be the one to see you reach your breaking point, to be dragged into a swamp of despair and get drowned in all sorts of addictions to cope with the pain. He was…anxious. No. He was scared for you. He wanted to help you but he was afraid that by intervening, he would just make matters worse.

It was better to just stick to the sidelines with a bottle of booze and watch everything happen like the bartender Alastor wanted him to be, right? Well, turns out he was wrong. 

One night after he made Angel a drink and called him out on his bullshit for being fake, the whiny little bitch stormed out of the hotel. Vaggie tried to make him go out and bring him out, but Charlie intervened. All she asked him was to make sure that Angel was okay. Do not force him to come back if he isn't ready. Obviously judging from the distraught look on her face, something happened between the princess and Angel. 

Husk did not know what or why, and he really did not want to play the role of a goddamned babysitter. Not when it was actually a slow evening and he didn’t have to hear these fucks bitch and moan for hours on end. But Vaggie’s glare, knowing Alastor would force him to do it because he fucking can and not knowing what would happen if he actually violated the terms of their contract, he left the hotel. The first place he went to were the streets. No luck. And no one had seen him. When he moved his search to the bars, he spotted Angel going inside one of them. 

Long story short, he was going to hang back and just keep an eye on Angel getting drunk off his ass with some shady sharks in a corner booth until he saw one of them pour something into Angel’s drink. He took care of the fucker, got Angel out, and listened to him. Angel Dust was not just an act. It’s who he needs to be. Drinking and getting high is his escape. He wants to be damaged so that he won’t be Val’s favorite toy anymore. 

Then when it seemed like they came to an understanding with a song, those bastards opened fire on the streets, targeting him and wanting Angel to come back to have some ‘fun’. Yeah, fuck no. 

That was when he heard car tires screeching against the asphalt, doors opening and closing with more shouting. Husk gritted his teeth. “Shit.” He turned to Angel. “Stay down. I’ll take care of this.” He pulled out his cards, ready to hop onto the roof of the pink Volkswagen they were hiding when he heard a  shnk, a high pitched squeal, then a gurgle. 

THUD.

Shnk.

THUD.

C-crack.

THUD.

“Who the fuck is this bitch?! Kill her, kill her you stupid asshats!” 

“Holy shit, toots?! The fuck - why is she here?!” Angel cried. Husk raised his brow, craning his head as far as he could without being in range of a bullet to see what was going on. There were only two people Angel called toots and he was pretty damned sure they were back at the hotel, safe and sound. Not one of them blitzing across the street, dodging bullets and slicing enemies down with a hunter’s knife in one hand, a large carpet bag in the other. 

He blinked. Nope. He was sober. Shit. He thought as you weaved between the shitheads, disarming, decapitating, and snapping their necks in no particular order. You weren’t exaggerating when you said you were a weapon for the army.  When he saw a flash of movement from the smaller grunt, twirling a knife and aiming it for your head as you pumped lead into his friend, Husk made his move. Hopping onto top of the car and threw his cards. One cleanly sliced the asshole’s neck. 

He quickly made through the growing crowd, running towards you as he threw some dice into a hammerhead’s mouth. But when he turned his back towards them, he felt something light and strong coil around his neck, cutting off his air supply. 

Fuck. Garroting wire! Husk flailed around  scratching, kicking,  and trying to get loose but the fucker was too damned strong. Black spots began to appear in the corner of his eyes when he felt a white hot stinging pain graze his left cheek, then something warm and sticky with a metallic scent. Blood.

The body behind him dropped, and so did he, yanking the wire off  him and inhaling deep gulps of  precious oxygen. Husk looked up and saw Angel with a shit-eating grin and a Tommy Gun in his upper hands. 

“Eat lead, sucker!” The porn star cackled, firing several more bullets into the corpse and his buddies that were closing in on them. Angel grinned at him, extending a hand to help him up.”I told ya. I can handle myself, baby.” Husk felt a grin stretching his own face as the fella pulled out more weapons with more arms. Well….not something he was expecting. 

Between the three of them, they made quick work with the rest of the gang and their reinforcements. Like him and Angel, you were covered in grime and blood but you were all right. 

“Are you two all right?” You asked as you wiped off the blood from your knife with a handkerchief, the carpet bag by your feet and in pristine condition. “No limbs missing that weren’t missing before you arrived?” 

“Yeah, we’re good.” Angel said, putting away his guns and extra limbs. “More importantly, why the fuck are you out here instead of the hotel?!” He interrogated, his voice lowering an octave as he glared at you, stomping towards you. Before Husk could stop him, Angel grabbed  your cheeks with his hands and pinched them. “You know these streets are dangerous, toots! How many times do Vags and I gotta tell ya?! Come straight home when you’re done with work!” Then he blinked, his face turning white, his eyes widening in horror. “Toots,” He said slowly. “Y-you ain’t hooking up with anyone around here, are ya?!” He yelled, now pulling your cheeks outwards as if you were a cartoon character. 

You didn’t flinch from the cheek pinching or pulling; instead, you looked at him in slightly confusion. “I don’t understand. What does fishing have anything to do with this except that these men were quite literally loan sharks standing outside a nautical-themed bar?” You asked. 

“Toots.” Angel said warningly. “If you don’t give me a straight answer, I swear to fucking God I am going to yeet you off a rooftop.”

“ ‘Yeet’?” You repeated.

“[First Name], just tell us why you’re here.” Husk said, already feeling a headache coming on and in need of a drink. You turned your attention to him, then back at Angel before you spoke.

“Rosie sent me out on a last-minute errand to get fertilizer for her plants. But by the time I got there, the shop was already closed. I was on my way home when I heard the gunshots, and saw the two of you being pinned down. I was not going to leave my comrades behind when I could help them. So I did. And now,” You looked over at the bodies strewn across the street. “I have what I need. Two birds with one stone, as Rosie says.”

“Ya mean ‘kill two birds with one stone’, toots?”

“Yes.”

“So, by fertilizer, ya mean these schmucks that we just totally obliterated.”

“Yes.”

“Food for plants.”

“Carnivorous plants. And if the fertilizer is fresh, the better it is for them. Rosie loves her plants very much.” You said, pulling away from Angel and grabbed the carpet bag off of the ground, walking towards the nearest body. “If you do not want to be here, I suggest you leave quickly.” You knelt down, laying the bag down and opened it, laying out assorted tools. Bone saws, knives, a large roll of plastic wrap, etc. “Rosie says I have gotten much quicker at dismemberment.” You carefully peeled off your gloves, replacing them with gray surgical ones. 

Husk glanced at Angel, eyebrow raised. It seemed like they were thinking the same thing because the latter spoke up with a toothy grin. 

“Baby, I was a mobster long before I was a porn star. ‘Sides, hacking up a body all by yourself is gonna take you all night. Better to have more hands to get the job neater an’ faster, am I right Whiskers?” 

Husk smirked. “Can’t argue with that, Legs. Guess you’re stuck with us until this job is done. You got another bone saw in that bag of yours?” He asked with a grin, somehow…happy to actually be doing this. Who would have thought a new friendship started with cleaning up bodies?

You stared at them for a moment, obviously stunned because you must have thought they’d leave you here alone, before you pulled out two more bone saws and more rubber gloves. Your instructions were simple enough: the severed pieces couldn't be any bigger than your body, and they needed to be wrapped up tightly in the plastic wrapping or else you’d have to pay a hefty cleaning bill to get the blood out of the bottom of the bag. Angel’s extra limbs came in handy for the latter task. Between the three of them, they made quick work with the dead loan sharks and everything was loaded inside the carpet bag, and no one was the wiser. This was Hell, after all. Cannibalism, gun fights, and dismemberment was commonplace in these parts. 

You thanked him and Angel profusely, bowing your head to them before you shyly asked if they would be interested in getting a bite to eat. To Angel’s knowledge, the closest place that is still open late at night is Devil’s Diner, which is half a  block from Jackpot, the casino Husk had owned from his glory days as an overlord. The food wasn’t too bad there, and cheap too. 

Now that he thought about it, Husk had worked up more of an appetite after the fight and so did Angel. Better to do that than trying to cook something and waking up Niffty. So, the three of you went to Devil’s Diner. Of course, you tried to just have a cup of coffee, but neither he nor Angel were having it. Conditioning your body to minimize nutrients to complete a mission, his ass. 

Both he and Angel persuaded you to try the day’s special with some water plus dessert. Whatever you couldn’t finish, get a to-go box. Husk himself ordered a sandwich with chips. Angel got pancakes, sausage, strawberries, and a strong drink because he fucking deserved it. 

Conversation started slow at first, but as the orders were placed and drinks were served by their waiter, words were exchanged, and stories were shared. Angel revealed he had a little brother and more family down here, though he rarely talked to them anymore after getting into the show biz. Husk confessed that he used to be a magician in Las Vegas, showing off a trick with his cards. 

They shared a good laugh over Val’s shitty eyesight. It shouldn’t take thirty minutes to count three bills, but it fucking did for the moth man.

You told them that you were once commissioned to help a playwright finish his newest script after being on a hiatus for many years, but he had been a difficult man to work with because he had no interest in doing anything else except drinking his days away. You had actually acted out a scene on the lake where the hero would journey home to be reunited with her father after vanquishing a monster. That was when you began to understand how grief affects people in different ways…and how your actions affected the people you had killed on the battlefield. People who had families and had one-day wishes that would never be fulfilled because they died by your hand. You are here in Hell because you are, you were, a weapon to be used in war. Reconnecting with people, with your emotions…it’s a lot harder than you thought it would be. 

“That’s what being human is all about.” Husk said. “Ya make mistakes, ya regret the choices ya wish ya would have made, or should’ve made, and ya need to live with it.” He knew that better than anyone. 

“The old timer’s got a point but look at how far you’ve come!” Angel exclaimed, spreading his arms out as he began listing all the good things you have done and accomplished since you came to the hotel, though you still needed to learn how to bake real Italian bread, not just heat up the cheap frozen ones in the oven. Husk silently agreed with him, taking another swing of his whiskey. In the end, you got a to-go box, but Angel said he could take it back with him to the hotel. You still needed to deliver the body parts to your cannibal superior and Husk said he’d go with you. But you insisted that you would be fine on your own, and that he and Angel should get some rest. 

“Rosie will not let me stay long in the emporium with how late it already is. She’s very particular about keeping the lights on after business hours.” You said, the corners of your mouth tugging downwards into a frown as your gaze fell upon his wings. “Husk…you were twitching a little and I heard your spine crack earlier, and your voice sounded a little raspy. I do not know what the cause of your ailments beyond the scuffle with those loan sharks could be because I am not a doctor…but it would be better if you and Angel took it easy for the rest of the night.” 

Keep in mind that Husk had once been an overlord. Yes, he’s been out of the game for a while, he won’t deny it. But he was not going to admit that you might be right.  “There’s nothin’ to worry about, I’ll be fine. If I can handle a fight, taking you where you need to go will be a walk in the park.” He grumbled, ignoring Angel’s snickering. 

He watched you raise your hand, fingers outstretched towards one of his wings, and then you pulled it away to clench your hand into a loose fist. Husk saw your hesitancy isn’t because you were disgusted at the sight of them, or his appearance. Hell, you had more bloodstains on your clothes than him and Angel combined. No. You were hesitating because you were afraid that your touch might hurt him, or make the pain he was feeling worse. 

Husk grinned as he grabbed your wrist, pulling it forward and carefully coiling the gloved fingers around the outer part of the left wing near his forearm to give it a squeeze. “See?” He flexed the muscles. “I’m fine. You ain’t got nothin’ to worry about.” It took him a second to realize how impulsive his actions were, seeing how your eyes widened and hearing Angel release a low, teasing whistle, muttering “Kinky~!” under his breath. Great. The kid wasn’t going to let this go, not even after a few drinks. Shit. Fuck. 

He tried to ignore the warmth flooding his face as he kept his gaze on you until you nodded your head, removing your hand from his wing. You were convinced that he was more than fine to accompany you back to Cannibal Colony, at least for the moment. You turned to Angel. “Are you going to be okay, heading back to the hotel on your own?”

Angel smiled toothily. “Toots, you should know me by now. Sex isn’t the only thing I’m good at.” He winked, holding up the to-go boxes as he turned on his heel, waving his extra hands over his shoulder. “See ya back at the bar! Ya still owe me a drink, Husker~!” Now that he left the diner, it was time for the two of you to make your exit. 

You walked down the steps and looked at him. “Ready?”

Husk nodded. “Yeah.” He then held out his paw to you. “Let’s get going.” You nodded, placing your hand in the center of his own, covering the golden-heart shaped paw  before he scooped you up in his arms, one claw under your legs and the other around your shoulders. You stared at him.

“What-”

“Hang on tight.” Husk did not give you a chance to respond, unfurling his wings to their full length before putting all of his weight on his back leg, catapulting the two of you into the crimson skies of the Pride Ring. Walking was fine and all, but as you mentioned, it was already pretty late. Why waste more time when he could fly there? 

So here you were, held like a princess with one arm wrapped around the carpet bag and your hand placed on his shoulder. But instead of screaming your head off or pleading with him to land somewhere, your attention was elsewhere. You were captivated with the multi-colored pin pricks of light down below,  your mouth partly open and [Eye Color] irises widened by a fraction. It was obvious that you hadn’t seen Hell from above. Or maybe you hadn’t traveled by air before. Either way, seeing such an expression on your face, one that wasn’t calm or expressionless like a doll who lived by someone else’s order.

You looked like a living, breathing human who had her own thoughts and could find beauty in the most bizarre of places. 

It almost made Husk consider extending this flight for a little longer until he realized he’d have to explain to you in great detail as to why he did decide to do it. So he brushed it off, and followed your instructions to your destination. 

Twenty minutes later, the two of you arrived at the stone steps leading up to the glass double doors of Rosie’s Emporium. The dimly lit streets were mostly empty, the bars were still open and echoed with raucous laughter and jazz. It was tempting to slip inside there for a drink, but Husk wasn’t too keen on being around cannibalistic drunks. Alcoholic he might be, he wasn’t that stupid. And he didn’t want you to get in trouble with the overlord who ran this place. She was your boss, not his. 

He watched you put a hand into your coat pocket and pulled out a small golden key. You put it in the dead bolt, twisting it to the left before pushing the door open. “Miss Rosie?” You called out, stepping inside the darkened establishment. “Miss Rosie, it is me. I am back.” 

A moment of silence enveloped the place, but only briefly because soon a tall, thin woman in a burgundy dress with an oversized hat and feathers materialized in front of you. She was at least two or three heads taller than you, smiling down with rows of sharp, gray teeth and pitch black orbs. “Oh there you are, I was startin’ to really get worried! Did John give you everything for my precious little sprouts?”

You quickly explained what had happened, how you could not see John because he had closed the shop by the time you got there but the fertilizer you collected from a gun fight you got into and came out victorious should be more than enough. Rosie was all but delighted, twirling in a small circle as she cooed.

“Ohh, I knew it was a good idea to hire you from the moment you came for the interview! I wish I could’ve seen you at work, using that bone saw and hacking away at corpses, but there’s always another day~! You know how many people come in wishing to have their husbands or wives ripped from limb to limb, at least the ones that taste bad! Ah?” She stopped dancing, craning her long neck to stare at him. “Who’s this you brought with you, [First Name]?” She looked over her shoulder, wagging a finger at you with a raised brow. “Come now, I know I said I wanted you to find a good fella someday, but this one’s way too scruffy for you and you’re much too young for him! Oh, I’m just kidding, I know you’re dedicated to your job! Well? Introduce us!”

You did, introducing him to the overlord as Husk and the hotel’s bartender. Alastor must have told her about him because she immediately called him ‘Alastor’s kitty cat’ and ‘how he used to be such a sophisticated-looking fella until he gambled against Alastor’. She laughed. “Well, small world, after all! [First Name], be a dear and take that bag into the back, will you? I’ll feed the little monsters myself, and you can go home! Oh, did you want some pinky fingers to go? I’ve got plenty of them and you probably didn’t eat dinner again, am I right?”

“Understood. And no thank you, though I will take up on the offer to try one of those roasted legs next time.” Husk almost gagged at your monotone words and Rosie’s cackle, but he had to keep his composure. As far as he knew, you were not a cannibal. And if you were…well, you probably wouldn’t have gone out of your way to help him and Angel, or at least order something from the Cannibal’s Section at the diner instead of force feeding yourself on the daily special. 

You might have only been gone for a few minutes, but it was awkward to stand near Rosie, the way she smiled at him like she was thinking about adding him to her menu for not dressing up in a vintage outfit. At least he hoped not. He could barely contain his relieved sigh when you appeared again, hands empty with no bag in sight. 

“It’s done.”

“Wonderful~! Now, you march up to bed as soon as you get in the door young lady! No staying up late!” She said, following the two of you to the door. “Give my regards to Alastor and tell that man he must come back soon! These halls have lost their sparkle without his lively presence! Oh! Before I forget~!” She snapped her fingers, and in a puff of dark red smoke, a large wad of bills materialized in your hands. “Here’s your paycheck! I know it’s a little early but I have a very important task for you to do tomorrow!” She grinned. “Go to town and buy yourself some new clothes for work!”

You faltered. “But -”

“Tomorrow is your day off I know, and I really, really love your enthusiasm when you try to come in to help around, but a proper lady of society cannot live on just one dress and a pair of boots! Oh, and you will also need to get a Hellphone in case something like this happens again! No ifs, ands, or buts! If Alastor throws a fit about it, I’ll talk to him! Now, shoo! Husker, be a dear and get my darling worker back to that hotel safely, all right?” She added with a wink.

Husk grunted exasperatedly but did not say a word. The last thing he wanted to do was go pissing off an overlord who just happened to be the Boss’ friend. So he just nodded, and followed you out of the door. When it shut behind them with a click, things got…awkward. Now that you weren’t carrying around a bag full of body parts, there was no need to fly all the way back to the hotel. Or at least that he thought you were thinking. 

But he told you that he didn’t mind, since Charlie was probably already worried about the two of you even if Angel had somehow managed to persuade her otherwise. So…you agreed, albeit hesitantly. Husk didn't waste any more time. He scooped you up in his arms and took off into the night skies, though with this being the Pride Ring, there was really no way to tell if it was day or night anymore. Cannibal Colony soon became another darkened spot, getting smaller and smaller until it disappeared from sight. 

As soon as the two of you made it back to the hotel, Husk had no doubt everyone would be giving him shit. Angel would make comments on his little ‘date’ went, which he’ll deny in every possible way, and the princess might be cryin’ from anxiety or relief knowing that two of you were all right. But that was then. This is now. And…he’s come to like holding you in his arms. 

“Husk?”

“Yeah?” He felt the arms around his neck tighten slightly…but not that it wasn’t too uncomfortable. It felt…okay. Like you were trying to say something, but you struggled to find the right words to say without sounding like an ass. 

“Thank you…for everything.”

His lips stretched into a grin. "You're welcome." 

He felt the cold of your palms, it would seem, through the gloves, but it was not so important. Because as the two of you flew back to the place you called home, he saw you smiling down at the Pentagram in wonder, whispering the places you had visited and or wondered what they were or if he knew anything about them, to which he either answered yes or no. It was such a small smile, but how could he not commit not it to his memory? 

And maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad to get a drink with you on a night around town. Or make one for you at his bar. He knew how to make a good non-alcoholic pina colada, even an alcoholic version of it. But who knows? He’ll take things one step at a time, and see what happens. 

What Husk did not realize at the time, not too far in the distant future, you would be the one to close the gap between them…and there would be something more between the two of you. Something that made his days in Hell just a little brighter. 

Taglist: @riddle-simp @kanroji-san @star-fawn21 @luthefriendlywitch @kameyo-kumo @solesurvivorjen @solandis-does-stuff @ladydoe8 @victheauthor @anielly-2010 @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @bones4thecats @mmelionsblog @frompeach @nixie-writes @tired-of-life-86 @trecllllllll @lanxianschoenheit @22carolina08 @justamegafan @the-cat-queen-peasants @oucx @diamondzoey @alyriaschoenheit @lbcreations-blog @alastorsart @nunezs-stuff @sillypenguincats @theunknowntravel3r @imperfectbloodmoon @no1sillybilly @likesugarandcyanide @bladeismine @bones4thecats

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel husk #husk x reader #husk x you #hazbin spoilers #viviziepop #cw physical abuse #tw physical abuse #cw violence #tw violence #cw cannibalism #tw cannibalism #cw language #tw language #violet evergarden!reader #fem!reader #character!reader

[voidst7rn]

vibrations ❦

matt x fem!reader

contains : smut / pet names / swearing / no actual p in v / bondage kink? / dom!matt / teasing / oral (fem receiving) / use of a vibrator / edging if u squint / no use of y/n

— nawttt proof read

a/n : ok IK its like, for you guys to read and imagine but i genuinely couldn’t write this without replacing y/n or “you” with a random name so… !! also idk what i was doing.. i was experimenting fr im having mixed emotions but its wtv

word count : 1151

—

it was aria’s twentieth birthday.

she spent the day with her friends and relatives and just got back from dinner with her family.

matt had called her earlier to send her birthday wishes and notify her that he had her present ready for later that night.

that’s all she’s been thinking about for the past hour.

it was around eleven at night, and she was starting to think matt had forgotten about her present. sure, he hadn’t forgotten about her birthday, he wished a happy birthday to her.

they hung out earlier, but he didn’t give her a physical present.

aria stared at her television, frowning slightly since her birthday was over in an hour and she still hadn’t gotten her present from her boyfriend.

that was until her doorbell rang.

she furrowed her eyebrows, pausing the movie she was watching before making her way to her front door. her family isn’t there, but they have the key.

she opened the door, assuming it was a package.

matt was on the other side with flowers and a black bag in either hand. aria smiled up at him, accepting the flowers he offered to her before being engulfed in a hug.

“i thought you forgot,” aria mumbled into his chest, pulling away.

“why would i forget?” matt questioned, inviting himself into her house, “i was waiting for the right time.”

aria scrunched her nose, “what’s in the bag?”

“that’s a surprise.”

“but it’s my present?”

matt hesitated, “do you want your present now or later?”

“i want it before my birthday is over.”

matt smiled, grabbing her hand and leading her to her bedroom, “so now?”

aria shrugged, “i guess.”

he kissed the top of her head, opening her bedroom door, “you’re gonna love it, i promise.”

“will i?”

matt nodded, humming a response. he closed the door behind them, immediately pressing his lips against hers.

this took aria by surprise. regardless, she kissed him back, her arms trailing up his chest before wrapping around his neck.

matt’s hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer. he led her over to her bed until she was eventually resting against the pillows that were propped up against her headboard.

his hands moved to the hem of her shirt, pulling away for a moment to take it off, leaving her bra on her body.

matt pinned her hands down to her sides by her wrists, leaning back in to continue their rough kiss.

he pulled her shorts down her legs, fingers grazing along the edge of her underwear.

he pulled away after a moment, “don’t move,” he whispered, kissing under her ear, “and keep your eyes closed.”

aria nodded, hearing the sound of the bag she saw earlier rustle before she felt something hard press against her stomach.

“what’s that?” she breathed out.

matt kissed her forehead, “shh… hold on.”

she felt the bed shake as the same hard material pressed against her arms. she tried to move around, uncomfortable from this position she was in, but she couldn’t.

she opened her eyes, looking down at her stomach to see a rope; the thing that was holding her back.

“what the fuck-?”

matt looked down at her, “what are you mad about?” he gently kissed her lips, “you look so pretty tied up like this, baby.”

aria couldn’t help the way his words made her feel, trying her best to shift around to ease the feeling in the area between her legs.

matt moved to kiss her neck, slowly pulling her panties down her legs.

he backed away, “can you close your eyes again for me?”

aria furrowed her eyebrows, but complied nonetheless, slowly shutting her eyes as she heard the bag rustle around once more.

after a moment she felt matt spread her legs, trying his best to distract her by leaving short, peppered kisses along her face.

she felt a cold object press against her bare folds, maneuvering its way around to center on her clit.

matt moved to kiss her neck, fiddling with the remote for the toy between his fingers.

aria kept her eyes closed, her lips slightly parted as soft, breathy moans left her lips at matt’s contact on the sensitive parts of her neck.

matt pressed the power button on the remote, resulting in a surprised moan that left aria’s mouth.

the vibrations coursed through her, despite the slow pace.

matt continued to kiss aria’s neck, occasionally pressing the button that sped the pace of the toy up, building up her pleasure before slowing it back down.

“fuck,” aria whimpered, “please don’t tease…”

matt laughed against her neck, before increasing the speed of the vibrator against her.

aria moaned, her thighs clenching as she felt that familiar knot build up in her lower abdomen.

due to her heavy breathing, matt recognized what was happening. he leaned back, watching her as he took in her expression and position.

“fuck, matt i’m-“ before she could finish, matt pressed the power button, abruptly ending aria’s pleasure.

her eyes flickered open, scrunching her nose as he pulled the vibrator out from her pussy.

“matt-“ aria started, before getting interrupted by his lips against hers.

he pulled away, untying the rope from around her body, “i’m gonna try something, okay?”

aria hesitated before nodding.

matt kissed down her body, propping himself up on his elbows before kissing her inner thighs.

he purposefully skipped over the area she wanted him most, pulling her closer by her thighs.

“matt, please-“

matt looked up at her, laughing softly before flattening his tongue and licking a stripe up her folds.

aria fisted the sheets with this action, her thighs immediately clenching as she tried her best not to move while matt continued.

her head fell back against the pillows as his tongue entered inside her, before pulling back out and centering around her clit.

matt repeated this process, bringing her closer and closer to her high.

aria’s hands moved from the sheets to his hair, entangling themselves in the soft, brown strands.

the stubble on his chin added to her pleasure as he continued his work with his tongue.

her hips slowly bucked into his mouth, needing something to break the pent-up pressure she couldn’t handle for much longer.

her moans subsided as she focused on the dampness of his mouth, her breathing gradually getting denser. she was already sensitive from the vibrator earlier and was approaching her release faster than she expected.

matt knew what was happening and kept repeating his actions, in which aria responded by forcing herself to remain still with the overwhelming pleasure.

he rode out her orgasm with her, placing light, feathery kisses down her thighs and up her stomach.

aria removed her hands from his hair, relaxing her body as she tried to catch her breath.

matt ran a hand along her trembling legs, gazing down at her, “happy birthday, baby.”

—

#chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #smut #fanfic

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Insatiable

Part 3/Finale to Cravings and Crash

Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Summary: Frankie and reader spend some time apart before realizing that’s actually really stupid—and solid communication happens for once :) 

Notes: it’s finally HERE! Thank you all so much again for your words of praise and keeping with these two absolute idiots in love. Honestly intended the first one to just be a one-off drabble throw away thought, but I’m glad everyone enjoyed it so much to ask for more! I’m spitting this out earlier than expected. Don’t know if I’ve done them reasonable justice but this is what I’ve got—hope you like it!

Warnings: unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, creampies, mentions of m oral, pussy eating king returns, cum eating, missionary, doggy, cowgirl, overstimulation, fingering, squirting, bit of possessive and jealous Frankie, mentions of drug use, drugs present, language

18+ ONLY

- - - - 

You had cried when you got in your car. And again when you went to your cousin’s house to crash until you signed your new lease. And then again every night for a week straight.

You had NEVER cried this hard over a boy before.

Except this wasn't some boy—this was Frankie. The guy who comforted you through all your dates that stood you up, and shitty boyfriends, albeit few, that left you feeling less than worthwhile. The same Frankie who stood around you like a guard dog when you went drinking together so no one would even think to slip something in your cup, but who YOU have to comfort during horror movies because he's a big scared kitten. Who lets you sleep on his shoulder for five hours in the car no matter how uncomfortable it was for him, never once moving, but still ate the food you didn't like off your plate "because he's a garbage dump who'd eat anything, even mold." 

The first guy to tell you that you were beautiful when you weren't even trying to impress him. Who brings a hair tie with him when you go to eat because you always forget yours and get your hair caught in your fork. Who pushed you to take charge of your life and break up with your loser first love, and it was the hardest and best decision you could have ever made.

And you know what? The ONLY guy who made you cum 9 fucking times the FIRST time he went down on you.

You called Santi that night because you needed to let loose, and the only other person you trusted to hold you up outside of Frankie was Pope.

“So how is he?” Santi asked, as you immediately double fisted your first two shots. 

"I don't wanna talk about him tonight."

Santi nods, eyes widening as you don’t even resist the bitter taste going down your throat. He holds his finger up towards the waitress to order 4 more glasses.

You really didn't want to think about Frankie. The more you thought about him, the more confused you felt, and you couldn't afford to be confused about your purpose in his life right now. You knew battling addiction isn’t a linear healing process. That it would get worse before it got better at times. You're his friend. You're helping him. That's it. 

Frankie spent a whole year being physically intimate with you, but never once asked or made a move for anything more emotionally. So why let yourself get carried away even thinking about something more?

To even consider if you wanted more...

You snatch the shot glass out of Santi's hand right before he was about to sip it and catapulted it down your throat, the burning sensation taking your mind out of the gutter.

Fuck Frankie for not keeping his shit together. Fuck him for being hot and cold. Fuck him for using you when that's exactly what you’re here for.

It's much easier to keep it all that way. Easy to encourage him with sex to avoid overthinking his intentions. Easier to constantly verbalize it, knowing he won’t deny it, as a means of reassurance to yourself. 

But absolutely fucking HELL he’s being so difficult lately. The sex—wasn’t just good. It was fucking phenomenal. you could physically see how much better he was just moments afterwards, even if you were blacking out and falling asleep not too long after. He was so hungry for it too, why deny? But he’d been holding back too much now—getting too tense, crashing, then stressed again. You needed to get things back on schedule with him so he’d be happy again.

And gentle, nurturing, innocent, sober you just wasn't doing the trick for him anymore.

You barely hear Santi over the pounding in your head: "When we was the last time you got laid? You need a distraction from your Fix-a-Fish hobby."

You gulp down the last of the vodka on the table, suppressing a slight burp.

"I'm 'bout to do both tonight."

That was 4 weeks ago. You didn’t achieve either that night.

Fish didn't seem too upset when you left, ultimately making the choice much easier. You looked so fucking stupid walking in there, basically demanding sex from him when he made it clear all year that you were only there for HIM and not the other way around. He didn’t want you like that. 

Good. Makes staying friends that much easier.

Or it did, for a little while. 

You couldn’t get over the way he made you feel when all was well—when he’d serenade you so easily in affection like Querida, Carino, Hermosa, and you could barely contain the butterflies in your stomach each time. You had never once heard him even refer to his dates or ex girlfriends in the same manner. It was both confusing and arousing. He treated you like a best friend some times, but adored you like a lover more. 

Hadn’t the man heard of friendship boundaries? Aside from the fact he made you orgasm every minute of the day, what was Frankie like as a lover? What more could he possibly do to cross that line?

Who the hell treats their friend like that?

That last month, however, felt more realistic. Grounded in the truth of your relation. You didn’t realize how much he had gotten to you with sweet words first that made the change in his attitude so unbearable. 

You wanted to go back to being selfish with his unbridled love.

You hadn’t gotten off in over a week, a new record. But as you lay in bed, conjuring any and all pornos, audio eroticas, pillows, aching fingers, even the dusty vibrator still wrapped in its new plastic, nothing was getting you to that same addictive feeling that Frankie gave you every single day.

You should have called him to return his shirt you had accidentally packed in your bag in a haste to get out of there. But it still smelled like him. You felt perverted getting wet just by holding it in your hands, but it was doing the trick, and finally you could touch yourself without additional lubricant assistance.

All the memories that tumbled from then on only made the ache between your legs worse: The first night, Frankie between your legs, begging you to let go so he could force more orgasms from your shaking body. “Doing s’good for me, cariño. Give me more, fucking starving” ; when he held you in his lap as you grind down on his bulge, his head buried under his shirt that you were wearing as his lapped at your nipples, “Don’t you dare hold back those beautiful moans, wanna hear you singing when I’m devouring you”; when he’d come home from work and didn’t say a word, just grabbed your wrist and lead you to his bedroom, lied on the bed, slapped your ass a few times to get you to straddle him higher, higher, until you were right over his lips. He didn’t even wait for your hesitation, immediately bringing your hips down and crashing his lips on your pussy, shaking his head like a mad scientist at work, hell bent on discovering what makes you cry faster.

You pulled your fingers away from your slick cunt. No amount of memory would compare to the real thing—and it wasn’t all the acts that you needed, but the intimacy, the familiarity that came from Frankie—THAT’S what always sent you over the edge.

It scared you.

Santi was half right. You did need to get laid. Needed someone who wasn’t Frankie to remind you that you don’t rely on him for some shit like getting off (although you had developed a keen preference by now). You needed a new hobby that wasn’t thinking about Frankie all the time. YOU needed a distraction.

He was half wrong, however, because you knew very well that you’d be drowning in lame date after lame lay a million times before you got over the addictive feeling of being around Fish this past year.

It never felt like a chore. Well, obviously, you were getting ate out like a Sunday brunch. But it was everything else that made you want to keep staying around, even after he maybe didn’t need you anymore.

You realized then that leaving was the best for you and him. You had somehow managed to score a  date tonight, the first one in over a year, with a James. Or Jonathan. Or Jimmy. Something J. I think.

I’m excited. I’m going on a date. I’m going to have fun. I’m excited. Im going on a date. Im going to have fun.

You didn’t even have the care to shave tonight before you begrudgingly left for dinner and a movie.

-

He couldn't say it then. Frankie remembered so vividly the image that he wishes he could forget: you standing there, so meek and vulnerable, spilling your tears as you tried to level your emotions with your feelings and confront the fucked up situation he put you in. Maybe if you had screamed, yelled at him and cussed him out for being such a dick, then he could have told you how he truly felt.

He was always better at being shouted at by others from being in the service. The guys would let their tempers soar and just shout, honesty tumbling through like a flood, and then everything would be out on the table, and shit would get DONE.

The apartment is unforgivably quiet and cold.

He's noticing little things you left behind: your nice moisturizer, expensive shampoo, a paper towel holder. He thinks you’re mocking him by leaving bits of you around his place, so he collects them in a bin and waits for you to come retrieve them. But you don't contact him for the first week.

He starts to think maybe you left those things for him. You bought all these things while you were here, forcing him to use them with you:

"Your face is as dry as a desert; you need moisturizer, not body lotion.”

"You can't use a 4 in one hair and body wash!"

"Who the fuck doesn't have a holder for their paper towels?"

It wasn't all just sex when you were here. He remembered coming in to the bathroom when your feet were soaking in the tub, and you explained you were rubbing your calluses off your feet. He joined you, sweats pulled up above his knee as you held him down to get the stone on his crusty feet, the whole time laughing and squirming because it tickled too much. He fell on his ass in the tub desperate to escape your strangely strong grip around his ankle, getting his clothes all wet.

And despite how well he had known you even before your arrangement, he continued to learn new things about you. Like you took night showers, and could only go to bed with your hair in braid. He'd come to see you, agitated in his room all morning, waiting for you to finally wake up so he could distract his craving. He’d walk into the kitchen where you were already cooking him breakfast, slip his arms around your hip, and pull your braids out lovingly to smell scent of your shampoo waft off in waves, closing his eyes and feeling his jitters dissipate, instantly calming him like no other remedy.

Found it funny that you couldn’t use a regular spoon for cereal, always replacing it with a tea spoon because the other ones are “too big” for your mouth to fully close around. A sentiment he suspected to be a load of BS when you had no problem swallowing his cock whole and then gulping down his cum without spilling a drop.

Or when you got red sauce all over the laundry and had to borrow Frankie's shirt to sleep in. He liked that you smelled like him, that it draped over you so pretty, and you'd never wear pants underneath. He'd put you in his lap and make you hold the shirt up with your teeth, showing off your perky tits. His thumb circled your hip bone, large hand clasping your waist to keep you upright while he'd kiss your nipples, and then make you both look down and watch as he rubbed his fingers through your folds, sucking the juices off as he finger fucked you over top him.

He can't help but feel his twitch of his cock stir in his pants at the thought.

Ok. Maybe the sexual parts were a big part—how could they not be? That’s all it was, at first. And he was able to pretend like it was too. But the more time he spent with you. The more time he got to really know you, live with you, breathe you in, unravel you and bind him to you so that you had no sanctuary untouched by him, it was all over before it began. 

He sat down with Pope a week after you left: 

“You look like shit.”

Frankie grumbled, shrugging it off. He hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten like he used to when you were around. His beard was growing in more patchy and less manicured than before.

“Have you talked to her since?”

“Don’t wanna talk about her tonight.”

Jesus, a broken record with these two, Santi thought. But he knew Fish much better, knew the exact reason why he called him out instead of all the boys together is precisely because he needed to get this off his chest. “She thought you were stressed, needed time. Clearly she was right.”

Frankie’s jaw clenched, teeth grinding so hard that he could form diamonds.

Santi cleared his throat, twirling the ice in his glass casually. “Course, I didn’t tell her you’re head over heels in love with her. Why didn’t you?”

He doesn’t deny it. Doesn’t think he could again. “Imagine how that would have gone? She was crying right there. Right in front of me, BECAUSE of me, after I’d treated her like shit for weeks until her breaking point. Would have given her some fucked up idea that that was my expression of loving her. If I’d said it then, she would never have believed me. Would have ruined everything. Including our friendship.” He pauses, staring down at his rough hands. “She deserves better,” he said weakly, more to convince himself than anyone else.

Santi leans back against the booth. He’d heard the Frankie pity train before, but this was much lower than usual. “And friendship is still good enough for you?”

“I’ll take whatever she’ll give me at this point. I can’t lose her.” 

“You can’t? Or don’t want to?”

Frankie thought about that for a while. He had realized too late he didn’t actually still need you. He hadn’t really “craved” cocaine like before. He no longer needed you tending to his every reaction, overly serving his necessities and desires, always a few steps away to brighten his smile, or warm the house with your laughter, your cooking, your terrible taste in movies, all for the sake of keeping him sane and sober.

But damn it all, he still wanted you.

Frankie goes 4 weeks of the hardest withdrawal of his life. You were right, he was getting better at not thinking about cocaine. But without you here, he's more agitated than before. It's not that he craves it now, but rather craves a substitute to get him through your absence.

He's itching for his phone, for the number of his dealer he should have blocked and deleted so long ago.

He shouldn't. It would devastate you. You'd think it's your fault because you weren't here to distract him, only making the whole lie he’s been telling himself that you could still be just friends more abundantly evident. Pushing that useless tale even further, rooting it in your mind.

 In truth, it is your fault that his entire happiness is now emotionally and physically tied to you, but he can't really blame you for leaving him since he's the big idiot. He had the entire year to make it right, damned be the consequences of your possible rejection.

He’s clenching his fist at his sides, debating whether to text his dealer. He doesn't even want that shit, at least not the way before. He just wants a distraction from the real aches that you've left behind.

And if he did... wouldn't you come back to him to make it right?

You’re so clear in his mind that doesn't even struggle, doesn't hesitate as he pays the money and carries the little pouch in his hands. He gets back to his apartment with vigorous haste, slamming the door behind him, and sits it on the coffee table, staring.

Even if you don't come back to him, getting just a little bit high would help take his mind off it all. He'd be able to stop thinking about you, even for just the night. Just to get some sleep.

Just to stop feeling.

He shakily tries to undo the tightly sealed bag, but few particle traces catch in his finger tips from outside the plastic, and he instantly wafts the infinitesimal scent of it on his finger tips. He stops, feeling something he's never felt before when staring down at the thing thats caused him so much trouble in his life:

Disgust.

-

You considered calling Frankie a million times, but how soon was too soon? Would he think you were just desperate to get ate out again? Would he deny you the second you wanted to see him, thinking it was just a booty call again? You had made some stupid choices, like going on a shitty date with a guy you weren’t even interested in, just to get over Frankie, so that you could avoid thinking about how badly you had shattered your friendship.

And going right back to being his friend, which included sharing one of your reckless decisions you make on your own, was one of them. He’d be interested in hearing about it, right?

You dial him up quickly.

You rock back and forth on your heels, unable to sit still.

The phone rings out to voicemail.

He’s never missed a phone call from you. Not even at 2am on a work night. He's never on his phone, and yet still always managed to answer your calls even if it’s on the last ring.

He's just avoiding you again. It's fine. Santi said he'll get over it eventually. That you’ve done enough worrying for him, and need to take care of yourself for a change.

You glance at the key he gave back to you, and not even a moment later, are soon slipping on shoes and heading out the door with it in hand.

-

You unlock the door and slowly walk in to the familiar layout of Frankie's apartment. It's entirely dark, curtains drawn save for a small crack in the shades. You call out his name tentatively, the eeriness of the place making you anxious. When you see the bathroom light on and door slightly ajar, hearing the rushing sink water running, you sigh relief.

Thank God.

You gently push open the door. "Fish?" You see him, heart skipping a beat at how much thinner, paler he looked now than before, eyes sunk from lack of sleep.

His eyes light up when he sees you, and your heart breaks at how different he looks but STILL has the brightest, softest, loving smile at you.

Your eyes drift down, smile fading, horror quickly overtaking your face at the unopened baggie of white powder sitting at the sink. And his face drops at the realization.

You take one step back, unable to close the gape in your lips, petrified. "Fish—I—holy fuck..."

You had never seen him doing it, never seen him freshly blown high from it. The closest you ever got was what the boys would tell you, or seeing the long aftermath of his crash. They were always first on the scene and quite frankly, ensured you were never the one to find in him these states. You had never been able to mentally prepare to have to handle it now.

"No—no no no! It's not, I didn’t, I didn't! Look—ok it looks like I did but I swear I haven't touched it. It’s still sealed! I’m. I'm dumping it down the toilet."

You don't trust his word, seeing as the bag is here, albeit fully wrapped up, seal unbroken like he said. But here, nonetheless. With him. In front of you with no denial that it was his. 

He gets on his knees and wraps his arms around your waist. “Please don’t leave me. I didn’t want you to leave the first time…”

“And it’s taking you being high right now to admit that?!”

I’m not high, seriously. Check me.” You peer down closer, and aside from his rampant heart beating against your leg and big round eyes, there’s no trace of smell or lingering white powder anywhere on him. But you’re hesitant.

“I bought it but then realized It wasn’t what I really wanted…”

He licks his lips quickly, his brown eyes pleading up to you, biceps flexing against your ribcage.

Your chest is pounding, the encasing feeling of Frankie refusing to let you back away making you feel like a trapped rabbit. 

“Please believe me,” he breathes.

"Your eyes are dilated as fuck Frankie!"

"That's because of you!"

You both hold your breath, a pregnant silence ringing in the air.

“I—I’m. Um. I meant." His eyes trail off sheepishly as a warm blush takes over his face. 

He stands up, rubbing the back of his head. He can tell you’re patiently waiting for him to get over his blubbering awkwardness so he can explain properly. To find the words he’s combing his brain for. And find them he did: 

"I miss you, Querida.”

He breathes slowly, time catching up and suddenly stopping. 

You glance toward the bag, still fearful that he had gotten to this point while you were gone. “Frankie. I’m—I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. For your needs—“

“I don’t need you to fix me. I haven’t craved that shit for a while, still don’t even now. I just wanted you here with me.” He snatches the baggie and chucks it in the toilet, immediately flushing it.

You want to say that might not be great for the plumbing, but Frankie’s hands are on yours, holding them securely to his chest. “I just want you. I should have said it before you walked away.  Should’ve said it a year ago, when I knew I didn’t want to pretend this was just some—some drug replacement.” He goes quieter. “I didn’t want this to be nothing. I thought when we had sex, maybe you’d feel the same, but you didn’t—”

“I was afraid about what would happen to you If our dynamic changed, Fish. I was worried it was just another high. So I tried to make things go back to how they were since it seemed to be working so well for you before,” you rambled. He can see the shininess in your eyes, feel how your body is no longer resisting him and instead, cradling his neck with affection, empathy, nurture, all the things he’d been depraved of for weeks. “But then it made everything worse and I didn’t know what to do—“

He cut you off, as if suddenly things didn’t line up. ”Why did you come back?"

You lick your lips, eyes unable to meet his. “Well I called, and you didn't answer. And I wanted to check up on you, and tell you... um—I mean I always tell you about… I went on a date, my first one in over a year."

Frankie's eyes blankly drift lower, down to your feet, his arms retreating. He takes an awkward step back. "How... how did it go?" He asks slowly, feeling the distance between the two of you growing again.

You throw your hands up in the air, unable to express yourself. “He was…Handsome. Funny. Charming. Paid for me, made me feel pretty, treated me real good—“

He nodded, unable to bring his eyes anywhere else but back to the back on the sink as he listened. “S’good. That’s what you deserve,” he says, jaw tensing.

“Yeah. Yeah it is what I deserve.” You pause, here goes everything. “Except the whole time, I hated the fact that he was nothing like you." 

Frankie’s attention darts back to you as you cup his scruffy face in your hands. "You're irritable, and sassy, and needy and clingy, and you pout when you don't get what you want. And you don't listen to me or stop when I tell you to stop—“

A roasting fest? Now?? “OK, That's, Jesus, I get it—“

"And I love all those things about you.” You hold his gaze, feeling his breath seize in his chest. “And I miss being here. I miss waking up with you every morning, and your smug face being the last I see before I go to sleep. And it took me until after I left to realize how I actually felt about you. This whole year with you has felt like this perfect—“

"High?"

Your brows furrow shyly. “I didn’t want to put it that way, for obvious reasons. But fuck it. Yes. I don’t—I don’t wanna let that go.”

His fingers tense around your waist, almost begging you to say it, spill it out for him and don’t hold back ever again. 

“You got me addicted to you, Francisco."

You aren't aware of how fast he moves, his hands grabbing your neck as he smashes his lips to yours. Your heart is beating out of your chest when he sucks every breath from you, barely separating from your lips to utter "I've waited—so long—for you—“ He hoists you up on his waist and brushes out of the bathroom with your legs wrapped securely around him, his kiss hot and full of passion the entire time. "Wanted you since you first let me have a taste of you.” He slams you on the bed, the familiarity of you two being in this exact situation settles on you. “Wanted you to want me. Want more.”

He continues to engulf your lips with his, his moans vibrating against your tongue. "I shouldn’t—“ he hastily bites your lip with a grunt “—shouldn't have pushed you away—treated you so bad.” He pauses his assault. “I was so scared you didn't want me like that. Couldn't handle pretending I could be okay with it.”

You place your hands on his chest, feeling the pounding of his heart matching yours. "Frankie, I want you."

"Good," he smiles, leaning up to remove his shirt over his shoulders. You whine at the sight. Draping himself over you, his lips never leave your body as he kisses down your chest then back to your lips. You’re unable to bring yourself to action as his body dictates both of your moves.

You feel his bulge pressing painfully against your core, eliciting an obscene moan from your throat. "Frankie—Let me take care—“

"No. Fuck no. I'm taking care of you tonight. And tomorrow, and every fuckin’ day after," he growls.

He kisses you once again but then slowly backs away. "Um, if... if you want that."

He feels your hand tangle in the hair behind his neck as you bring his face back to yours, teeth clashing for dominance. "I want it," you whisper, sucking his lower lip and biting it possessively.

His jaw hitches. “Prove it."

You unbutton your pants, taking his large hand and guiding it down your panties in haste. His digits make contact between your folds, the two of you sighing.

"Oh f-fuck. You want this, don't you?"

"Want you so bad, Frankie. It fucking hurts.”

His fingers dont leave your dripping cunt, spreading your slick around your swollen clit. His other rips your string underwear off with incredible strength. He then helps push your shirt over your head, and you immediately unclasp your bra. Frankie growls lowly at the sight of your perky breasts bouncing from their release. "Fuck, I missed these.” His mouth wraps around as much fat of your tit he could before biting, making you lurch. 

“I—I’m not gonna be slow—I wanted to—“

"Jesus Fish, I don’t care, just take me!"

He plunges two of his thick digits into your soaking heat, making your back arch off the bed. He takes the opportunity to suck a nipple back into his mouth, half his body hovering over you to keep your form perfectly positioned between his mouth and fingers. They teasingly thrust in and out slowly from your hole, intentionally dragging out his torture against you. "So mean to me, baby." His teeth nip at your nipple with a smug grin. "Takin’ my sweet little pussy away from me like that. I barely touched you and you're absolutely soaked. Were you wet on your way here?"

"Frankie I haven't... haven't been able to get off in weeks."

"How long?"

You moan out loud, eyes rolling back as your brain turns to mush. Your hand tries to guide his wrist faster but he slaps it away, continuing his teasing ministrations.

"Answer me!"

"Since the last time you touched me!" You cry.

He haults his movements. 

The girl who bragged about cumming an average of 6 times a day just grinding on a pillow, now telling him she hasn't been able to orgasm in a month, because of him.

Ohhhhhhh fuuuuccccckkkkkfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. “That why you went on your little date, huh?"

You nod shamefully.

"Did you fuck him?"

You whine, eyes burrowing in confusion that he still expected you have coherent thoughts while he had you in this compromising position, teetering on the brink of your much needed orgasm.

"Your date.” He repeats, his wrist slowing down entirely. “Did. You. Fuck. Him."

“No—no! I didn’t even let him kiss me goodnight. Couldn't even get wet for him, that's how bad—Frankie, fuck! please!—bad you've got me fucked up."

He speeds up his hands, satisfied with your confessions. They are thrusting perfectly in and out at record speeds as his jaw clenched around your tit, watching your eyes roll back as your first orgasm in WEEKS overwhelms you fast. You’re shaking violently, legs desperate to close but Frankie pries them open with his strong hand, continuing to dominate your cunt with his incessant fingers.

You feel something else coming as he continues to ram his wrist against you, fingers digging so deep, curling so effortlessly that you can’t stop the gush of liquid squirting out of you. “Oh shit, oh fuckfuckFUCK that’s it! That’s my girl, holy fuck yeah—yeah keep going, Cariño, so fucking good.” He continues to finger fuck you repeatedly, working you through it as your pussy continues to contract and release your spend.

You hardly have time to process your embarrassment as he's shifting below your hips, throwing your thighs over shoulder and giving your soaked pussy a longing look. Your clit twitches excitedly. Cool air is blown on it, making you fist his hair harder. He presses his large nose into you, inhaling your scent like bloodhound, growling like a man possessed at the sticky coating. "I fucking missed you, Hermosa," he groans, and his mouth latched right on to your pulsing cunt. You gasp, hands fisting his hair as he rolls your overstimulated clit with his tongue, jaw opening wide to practically swallow your pussy whole, sucking away everything you're giving him.

Whether he was talking to you or your pussy, it didn’t really matter to you. All you could process was the rough feeling of his fat tongue and scruffy face rubbing perfectly between your legs as Frankie got reacquainted with his former addiction. "FrankieFrankieFranke-ohFUCK!"

You can’t stop him, can’t even warn him as the overstimulation send you into a fit of gasps, cumming again, legs squeezing his head as painful pleasure courses through you. His upper back is littered in your scratches, the red marks raising his skin like tiger stripes.

You're struggling to catch your breath with ragged moans. He slows his licks to draw it out, letting your spasms pass. His sinful, lidded eyes have never left your face, absorbing every reaction from you, committing it to memory.

"You really have neglected this poor pussy," he teases, kissing your clit as his fingers begin to spread your glistening folds once again.

You can only nod, arms covering your face as he starts to rub the pad of his thumb on your swollen nub again. “It’s—not as good—unless it’s you.”

He grits his teeth in satisfaction. “S’okay. M’ gonna take care of you now. Gonna fuck you real soon."

You whine when he pushes his fingers back in to your tight heat.

"And then, when I’m done fucking you—We're gonna fuck again," he laughs.

You’re a bit frightened with how he’s looking at you: like he’s fucking possessed by a hungry, malicious demon.

He makes you cum on his fingers again, then his lips, then both at once. He’s pinning you down so harshly, you have no choice but to take the endless barrage of orgasms he’s forcing from you, almost as if he’s trying to make up for the time you two have been apart. 

By the time his tastebuds are content, he brings himself back up to you, messily kissing your lips so you taste yourself, his beard and stache now soaked in your cum and rubbing along your chin.

You gasp when you feel his hard cock sliding along your folds. He rolls his hips against you, your copious slick letting him glide effortlessly, tip nudging your clit.

“Frankie,” you warn, unable to handle his teasing now.

He grabs the base of his dick. “Beg. Beg me for it,” He commands with a godly voice you’d never heard him use before. He slaps the underside of his throbbing member repeatedly against your pussy with a taptaptaptap. “Tell me you want it.”

You don’t care for the fat tears spilling down your cheeks as you whine like a bitch in heat. “Fuckyou, Frankie,” you seethe, anger building with your desperation. “I fucking want it, want it so bad, want you to ruin me, please, Fish, fucking please put it in already!”

He grins, big and sadistic as he watches your face contort with the first push of his tip into your wetness. “Oh F—“ he breathes, eyes closing as your tight walls do their best to accomodate his size.

Your eyesight is blurry, waves of pleasure rolling throughout your entire body, delirious as he bottoms out. Where he belongs. Where he’s always meant to be.

He presses his forehead to you as his hips start rutting.

He’s hardly fucked you for a few seconds, but the pressure building inside of you, desperate for this moment again after months, isn’t giving you a choice to savor it. “Fish—fuckfuckfuckfuckFUCK! ‘M not gonna last!"

He growls excitedly, driving his cock more harshly into you, reaching that special spot he’s decided is only his to abuse. “It’s okay, babygirl. You cum for me. You're always so good at it."

And you are, you really are. “OH FUCK FRANKIE!” You scream. Your body agreeing with him so much that your abrupt orgasm squeezes around him so hard, his movements stop altogether.

“Oh shit—“ he hisses, your pussy greedily milking the cum right out of him. He only pauses for a moment, shaking over you for a moment as his first orgasm subsides before his hips are moving of their own accord, his cum forced out with each thrust.

“Keep goin’, pretty thing. Give me more,” he grunts. 

You nod deliriously, eyes rolled to the back of your skull as he pounds your battered puussy.

He pulls out, the sudden withdrawal making you whine with emptiness. He sinks to his knees again, yanking your knees up to your chest. Your pussy twitches, his cum spilling out and sinking down your ass.

He lets out of primal groan from the back of his throat before smashing his mouth on your cunt, sucking your clit and tongue fucking your hole like a cream filled pastry. You feel the descending bob of his Adam’s apple against your rear as he swallows the mixture of your cum, drinking it like liquid life from the source. “We taste—so—fucking—good, Princesa,” he taunts, tongue lapping your little clit in quick succession before shaking his head back and forth aggressively against your mound, smearing the obscene mixture across your folds and making a mess.

Oh fuck, he’s so gone.

He quickly gets on his knees, turning you over on your stomach like you weigh nothing. His hands grip around your hips, bringing them flush against his crotch again as you arch your back for him. He puts his palm on the small of your back, keeping you right there, pressed tight against him as his cock slides back into your eager and cum coated cunt.

“Fuck yeah,” he groans, setting a faster pace this time. You hadn't realized just how much Frankie was holding back the first time you had sex. He leans over your body, hands splayed past your shoulders, fisting the bed as he rails you deep, his thighs crashing against you with harsh slaps. Your temple lands against his cheek, meeting eye contact. He smiles, breath caught in his throat like running a mile at your fucked out expression. 

He continues to fuck you like an animal. A soft hand grips your chin lovingly, tilting your head further back so his lips meet yours with each punishing grind. You’re surprised by how much you love the hold he has on you, willingly submitting to him without being told. Drunk on each other’s lust.

You suck greedily around his tongue, hand reaching behind the two of you to play with his soft brown curls, refusing to let him leave your mouth. He stutters with a few more thrusts before halting, eyes scrunched closed. “AUUGHHH—haaaahh!” You feel the twitch of him inside you, draining his balls some more of his plentiful seed. 

“Fuck, fuck I love it when you cum inside me!” You confess. The action makes you fall forward, mouth burying into his pillows as you muffle your own cry of your release again.

He pulls out of you and flops to the bed. You think maybe he is done, after having cum twice now, bur Frankie is quick to bring you to straddle him, his dick never once softening as it presses incessantly to your entrance again. He licks his lips, watching his cum spill down your thighs, right to his creamy cock that refuses to fully part from you. 

“Frankie,” you moan, unsure if you can take him again.

“Want you just like this. Ride me,” he breathes. He’s covered in sweat, out of breath and shaking with a mix of exhaustion and adrenaline if it were possible. His hands gently wrap around your waist as he guides you. Eyes so lidded, transfixed on the area where your mound slowly swallows him again.

You’re nodding, body taking over all actions, completely starved for the man under you. 

He leans up to get a good look at you, taking it slow, burning this in head to remember.

"Thought about you... everyday.” He whispers, mouth parted in lust, gliding your hips along with steady rolls. “Couldn't sleep."

His hands down along the curve of your ass, to your thighs spread out over him, before rubbing up the length of your back, holding you as close to him as he can possibly bring you, your tits pressing against his chest. He struggles to breathe evenly as your creamy pussy continues to tighten around him each time he breaches you, the two of you moaning softly into each others’ open mouths. He occasionally catches your lips, slotting perfectly as you grind against him.

His mouth finds its way back down to your pebbled nipple, biting gently before kissing it better. He brings his face back to yours. “So perfect for me,” he whispers.

You start grinding on him more fervently, lifting yourself on your knees ever slightly and baring down on him. He grits his teeth, sinking further down into the bed, eyes never leaving you as his digs his nails into the meat of your hips, forcing you to bounce harder. 

“That’s it, baby. Ride me just like that. MY girl, my beautiful girl.”

You bite your lips, feelings your clit catch on his public hairs. The sloppy squelching of his cum being driven out of your heat by his thick cock is no match to the heavenly sounds you were making atop him. The vein in his neck strains like he’s suffocating himself from air, refusing to slow down, to take a break, to let go for even just a moment.

“More. Give me more,” you moan, confidence soaring as you feel him begin to meet your hips with every thrust. “I want all of you, Frankie.”

He shouts out, lifting you up, his feet digging into mattress as he fucks you from below. “Fuck, fuck!”

You want to throw your head back, ride out this high, but the dangerous allure of him watching you brings your focus down to him, watching the way the two of you are getting off to the other falling apart.

“Just like this. You n’ me. Want it just like this. Forever.” He mumbles repeatedly, ragged pants uneven as he fills you the way you had been unknowingly wanting for months.  

You feel the build of your umpteenth orgasm building in your lower tummy. “Frankie-F-Franke! I’m—I’m gonna—“

“Do it, Querida, do it f-for me.” He thinks he can starve off the low build of his third orgasm of the night, just enough to make you cum for him once more.

You feel the heavy knot in your stomach snap. With absolutely no hesitation, no doubt behind your word, you cry out, “I love you!” as you cum harder than any time before.

Lifting you both practically off the bed, Frankie’s hips seize, pressed so tightly against yours there was no room between you. He shouts loudly, animalistic, snarling with his teeth baring at you and 0 control left in him, immediately emptying his load deep inside with each heavy pulse of his cock against your cervix, painting your walls white with the last of his cum that his balls could give you.

You collapse on top of him, the two of you sucking  air like you were underwater for years. Neither of you say anything, covered in sweat and cum, but finally being able to relax from the pent up release that’s been building there far longer than it ever should have been.

His hand rests against your lower back, somehow pressing your naked body closer to his. 

“I love you,” you whisper again to his collarbone. He brings your eyes to his, and this time he knows you mean it.

-

Frankie wakes to a cold bed.

His arm reaches out subconsciously for your body, but only feels cool empty sheets at his side. His eyes fly open, head sitting upright as he scans his bedroom. There's no sign of you. None of your clothes are scattered on the floor, no immediate trace of your scent. He feels a strong pain in his chest suffocating and stabbing him all at once.

He lies back flat on his pillow, fingers rubbing his forehead. He has two thoughts: the first thought, the one he'd rather think is true, is that it was all dream. You hadn't come home to him.

Before he could bring himself to consider the pain of the second thought, the fear is instantly squashed when he hears the door creak open, your sweet soft smile and gentle eyes landing on him.

‘Hiiiii,” you whisper in a singsong, gentle morning voice. Tip toeing bare foot on the hardwood floor, he see’s you’re dressed in nothing but one of Frankies slightly torn over sized, faded band T shirts that swallows your body. Your bed head still evident, eyes baggy yet happy from the events of last night.

He didn't realize he had held his breath the moment before you walked in, afraid that rather than having dreamt it all, that it did happen, and you had left him anyway.

"I made you tea," you hummed, setting the two cups down by his bedside table.

Your ears go red at the image of him: sheet pulled half way up his hip, his bare chest and torso visible as he props himself up with his elbows to get a good look at you. And the WAY he's looking at you, like you’re the only thing that matters in the world, has you sheepishly avoiding his big brown pupils, sliding in to the covers and nuzzling your head against his shoulder.

He wraps his arms around you, unwilling to let you sneak off again. “Don’t wake up before me like that again.”

You giggle. “Frankie, it’s 4 in the afternoon.” 

He checks his digital clock by the bed, true to your word. You both had fucked so hard, so long last night that he didn’t even realize it was well into the morning by the time you had drifted to sleep. 

He lies back down in bed, encircling you to him again. He can more clearly see the damage of last night’s episode on you: bite marks along your tits, hickies against your inner thighs and swollen lips. he doesn’t even need to touch your pussy, feeling its puffy soreness pressing against his leg. He kisses you gently yet passionately this morning, cradling your head so you can’t back away. Not that you want to—he doesn’t feel any resistance in your movements as you devour his lips. 

“I love you,” he says clearly. He can feel the way your breath hitches, the blush on your cheeks at the confession. “I love you, and I’m so sorry it took me so long to say it. I’m sorry I caused you so much confusion and I—“

“Okay, Fish. It’s okay. I know.” You bite your lip, pushing your hand against his chest so that he’s lying down on his back. “But I’m not sure I forgive you just yet.”

A brief moment of confusion wracks his face before you’re clambering on top of him again, your naked lower body straddling his under the sheet. You fist the t shirt of your head, letting your soft supple breasts fall. Frankie immediately grabs them tenderly with both of his warm hands, his breath quickening. His length twitches, hard as a rock and pressing right against his lower stomach as you glide your slick folds along him.

“I think you should keep making it up to me.” You align the tip of his throbbing cock against your swollen entrance and sink down, hands seeking purchase on his chest, scratching the skin there as he fills your sore cunt, taking him down to the hilt in one go.

You let out the tiniest, sexiest whimper, and Frankie is ready to drop everything he’s ever owned just to hear it again. So smitten with you, he’s grinning harder than he has his entire life. Like a big dumb idiot.

Your big dumb idiot.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Querida: I love you.”

Tagging people who either requested a part 2/3 or directly requested to be tagged. At least what i can remember (sorry if I missed you!)

- - - -

Series masterlist

Series Taglist: @paleidiot @pedropascalsbbg @tonakings @nerdieforpedro @thewritermj @ahintofkiwistrawberry @perfectly-imperfect-me23 @sammy-4103 @survivingandenduring @millercontracting @emilyjustemily @boiistfu @pedritoferg @missladym1981 @titlee78 @fairytale07 @multiplefandomwritings @steviesimp @marisemonteiroo @dilfluverrrrrrr @howdigetinhere @jessthebaker

Permanent Taglist: @harriedandharassed 

#pedro pascal smut #frankie morales smut #frankie catfish morlaes smut #catfish morales smut #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier smut #triple frontier fanfiction #catfish morales x reader #catfish morales #francisco morales smut #frankie morales x you #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #triple frontier fic

[yourpsicodelicbitch]

Sun houses and fathers 🌞

Yoshitomi Nara

✨first post of 2024✨

take what resonates, leave what don’t 🎀 you don’t have to necessarily identify with it.

*I use whole sign system -house system- for more certainty

9H: you’re learning constantly from your dad. he teaches you what he’ve learned through his life. he’s teaching you about his mindset, the origin of his beliefs, why he stands for them. he could be someone very religious or faithful, and through that faith he could have teach you things he know now. also, he could be really philosophical and probably has a fixation with politics, investing. he could seem very patient or is constantly worried trying to understand how he can help you.

10H: your dad could be someone really hardworking, who you could have seen work really hard through all this years, making sure you’re satisfied in the economic and study aspect. he could have not been present too much when you were growing up and when he showed up he was too strict, he probably wasn’t conscious or didn’t know how to approach you -could be bc they thought him to bottle up his emotions-. you could end up studying/working on the same career/field your dad’s in.

11H: your dad it’s okay with who you are, or what side you show to them🧐. you’re their fav or they left you. you could feel like the only child/you are. he could seem too disperse, take it how you want to. idk why but mostly of dads of sun 11H are younger than what’s expected. he’s permissive. you were a spoiled kid, that has to do with your dad. “dreams” that word is important, he had a lot of influence and power over yours, he could have destroyed them or making sure you have all the resources -depending on the aspects-.

12H: your dad won’t judge your decisions or you. he’ll be a support. he could have difficulties to put limits in a father-son relationship, you could have felt stressed when you’re seeing how your dad is being bullied by your siblings bc of that attitude. you could have being the one who is protecting them or you’re the more serious/introverted one in the dynamic. or the total opposite: he’s too strict and you had to be careful on how to act. there’s something that happened there… you two could share something obvious, an interest, physical appearance, an adjective, etc. something everyone can point out. also, you could feel a strong or subconscious connection with your dad’s sight of the family.

5H: idk why I have the feeling you didn’t saw your dad for a long time and then you saw him, I’m trying to express that your relationship with him it’s not constant. he could be explosive or impulsive. he could contradict himself so much. he could have had you without planning it/unexpected -you were a surprise for him 🤩-. could be that your parents were young when they had you and etc. that’s why you’re like an experiment 😭 your dad doesn’t know how to approach you and he has a temperament. emotions here are fiery, when each other express their emotions they don’t take a seat and have a chat with a cup of tea, they’ll say how they feel crying and screaming.

6H: your dad could have OCD, no, I’m lying, but he could be really fucked up about order. “thinks have to be like this, why you didn’t let me this at this time?” Or the total opposite, not in the middle. he could get sticker in his routine and if things are not how he planned he get stressed. a perfectionist. he could be strict or conservative. he’s sarcastic, that’s why you could be sarcastic too. he’s hardworking and also could help on campaigns and etc. at some point you could have helped him on working on his health. and you could be the one who end up taking care of him/being the sibling who spends more time with him.

♡ Based on personal experience and what I’ve analyzed in my surroundings.

♡ English is not my first language.

♡ I’m not a profesional astrologer.

Thank youu. baibaiii🫣🫶🏼💋

Do not copy. Please give me credits.

#astrology #astro observations #pinterest #astro posts #astro placements #astro notes #sun #whole sign system #12h sun #6h sun #birth chart

[m1kasawps]

sweet like sugar, nate archibald.

summary: in which you come home to find a certain someone waiting in your bedroom for you.

warnings: fem!waldorf!reader, sort of sugar daddy/baby dynamic, oral, not yet proof read!

notes: this is overly long so i cut the smut short and lame, sorry bbies!!

Walking out of the elevator and into your house, you’re shocked and slightly concerned when you’re met with the sight of Chuck Bass sitting in your living room. “Ew, Kill me now.” You groan.

Your words catch his attention and he turns in the couch to face you, “Lovely to see you too.” He gives you his classic smirk, immediately creeping you out.

“Why are you here?” You roll your eyes as you walk through the foyer and towards him, your shoes clicking on the floor. “Well?” You raise an eyebrow, placing your small handbag on the coffee table in front of the man.

“I’m here for your sister. She’s upstairs, we’re leaving for a dinner party.” Chuck explains, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Is that an issue?” He then questions you.

You don’t respond for a moment, staring him down, a cruel look on your face. “Yeah, actually, it is an issue.”

“You have a lot of nerve, you know that?” Chuck shakes his head, trying to intimidate you by stepping closer, “Talking down on me and acting all high and mighty as if I’m unaware of you and Nate’s dirty secret. Actually, speaking of Nate and that, uh, secret..If I were you I’d go upstairs and check out your bedroom.” He whispers, but quickly backs away and exits the living room when Blair starts coming down the stairs.

“What’s going on here?” Blair stands next to Chuck and the two of them look back at you.

“Oh, nothing. Just some banter, your sister seems to be..” Blair’s boyfriend puts on his strange checkered coat, “Not super fond of me.”

Blair glares at you, turning around and grabbing Chuck’s hand, taking him with her, not before he can get a small laugh at your expression, though. The pair enter the elevator, exiting the house and going on their date.

You, however, slowly make your way up the spiral staircase, walking towards your bedroom, Chuck’s comment from earlier stuck in your head. You’re not necessarily ashamed of the supposed secret arrangement between you and Nate. By definition, you’d be considered his ‘sugar baby’ but the two of you don’t view it that way. You’ve been friends with him since childhood, and as you got older, you started feeling attracted to him. Eventually, you both figured out the fact that you felt the same way, and things got physical since. You never wanted to put a label on it and every time he came over to your place, he’d bring you gifts or something you previously mentioned wanting. Now, it’s become a tradition. You fuck him and he gives you whatever you desire.

You gently push your door open, a shocked look on your face when you find Nate sitting on the edge of your bed, your room decorated with candles and white Christmas lights. “What is all of this?” You grin, looking in the corner on the room to find a fake Christmas tree, piles of gifts underneath it.

“Merry, early, Christmas.” Nate laughs, standing up from the bed and walking towards you.

“You’re so unbelievable!” You cover your mouth, “Nate, is this all for me?” You point at the neatly wrapped presents under the tree.

He nods, “Yeah. Chuck helped me set it all up.”

“I can’t accept all of this, Nate.” You shake your head, you back away from him, a guilty look creeping onto your face.

“Of course you can, I want you too. Besides, if you don’t, it’ll go to waste.” He insists, sitting back down on the bed, motioning for you to sit next to him.

“Okay..” You sigh, taking a seat next to him. “I guess I should get you something nice then, hm?” You look at him.

“Only if you want to get me something.”

“Of course I do, Nate.”

For a moment, you both sit in silence, unsure of what to do. Deciding to speak up, you turn your body so you’re fully facing him. “I can give you a present now if you want one.” Your tone is soft but seductive.

“Oh, really?” He holds back his smile, moving his hand up your tights and under your skirt, massaging your thigh.

“Hey, I’m the one giving you a present.” You scoff, “You’ve given me enough.” You move his hand away from your body, this time you push him back on the bed, unbuttoning his shirt. Slowly, you part the fabric, kissing down his abs, then hovering your mouth just above his v line. “Hmm” You hum, lifting your hand towards the bulge peaking through his pants.

“Fuckkk.” He groans, tossing his bed back as you palm his dick over the pants. “Please, baby.”

“Please what? Use your words.”

“Come on.” He starts getting desperate and increasingly needy.

You bite your lip, deciding to answer his pleas. You slide his pants off and toss them on the bed, then very slowly taking off his boxers, teasing him as much as possible.

“(Y/N).” He huffs.

“Fine, fine.” You let out a small laugh, feeling content with yourself. Instead, you wrap your hands around his dick, starting to jerk him off while you work on taking the rest of him in your mouth.

“Holy shit.” He moans, his eyes rolling back as you continue to take your time and slowly suck his cock, occasionally stopping and licking his tip, trying to prolong his pleasure, considering everything he does for you. Nate gently takes a fistful of your hair and helps bob your head in a rhythm, getting you to take all his dick. “That feels so good.” He breathes out. You pick up the speed, sending him over the edge. “I’m gonna—” He starts but quickly stops when you move your hands and completely take him in, his jaw opening and his eyes closing as he fills your mouth with his cum. You sit up swallow, then kissing him, letting him taste the remains of his juices on your lips.

#x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #gossip girl x reader #gossip girl imagine #gossip girl fanfiction #nate archibald x you #nate archibald x reader #nate archibald fanfiction #nate archibald fanfic #chuck bass x reader #blair waldorf x reader #serena van der woodsen x reader