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writingbyshiloh · 7 months

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Third Time's the Charm

Request: Hii,if your request are still open can i request something for Gen V?Can you write something where Jordan and fem reader are childhood best friends and Jordan had always been in love with her but they feel insecure because they don’t know if reader will like them in both forms romantically?So when,in ep 3,Jordan dad goes like “Y/n and Jordan will be husband and wife” reader goes “Maybe we will be wife and wife”because she loves Jordan just like they are?

AN: Reader wants to be the first supe president (just to explain why they’re at the gala), I changed the timeline of the ep a tiny bit. I have another request about meeting Jordan's parents but that one might be more angsty.

CW: fem!reader, kissing, no beta, Jordan's parents are just their warning. The start is all flashbacks so I may have slipped on the tense a few times, no beta

WC: 2.0K

Jordan Li was your first kiss. Twice. The first time was in kindergarten, when they tried to kiss you and you smacked them with your Queen Mauve lunch box. Your second first kiss (the one you consider your actual first kiss) was done by you while playing truth or dare at 14. After picking a dare, you were asked to kiss the best-looking guy in the group. You shrugged and picked your best friend - Jordan.

At age six, they were there when you broke your ankle trying to see if you could fly (you couldn’t). When you did get powers, they were the first person you told.

When Jordan came out to you as bigender, you did an internet deep-dive, trying to understand as much as possible.

Jordan listened to every interaction you had with your high school crush while quietly dying inside, wanting you to be happy. When your high school boyfriend cheated on you and then dumped you for the girl he cheated with, Jordan was there, ready to sink hours into their Xbox to keep you distracted.

The worst week of your life was when you didn't speak to Jordan for 9 whole days. You got into a petty argument where you called them self-absorbed and they called you clingy. The fight snowballed into yelling arguments and ended with you receiving a cold shoulder from Jordan.

When Jordan got their wisdom teeth removed, you camped out in their room, snuggled under their duvet with them to watch Property Brothers for two days straight. You even made sure they took their painkillers on time and used ice packs.

Every fight with their parents, you were outside in your car ready to pick up Jordan to stay with you. Once you showed up at their house at 6:03 am, eyes blurry with sleep and still in pyjamas. Jordan was crying, bob haircut looked messy from sleep. You drove them to Vought-A-Burger, still half asleep and ate greasy breakfast sandwiches in your car until Jordan stopped crying.

Jordan was even your date to prom, taking photos with you in their masculine form to get their parents off their back. Once their parents were happy, you snuck them back to yours, where you stashed their prom dress.

You both even applied to God U together. Too nervous to check your acceptance, Jordan checked yours and you checked theirs. Sitting across from each other on your bed you both log in before giving the laptops to each other.

“Okay, three, two, one…” you counted down, opening Jordan’s laptop. Your eyes scanned for any promising words like congratulations, or welcome. "Accepted" was the first word your eyes caught but you need to fuck with them.

“Jord… I’m so sorry.” You start. Their face falls, and you feel like a dick for doing this. But the opportunity is too good to pass up. “That you believed me! Because you got in!”

They lunged across your bed to see what the screen says. You saw Jordan's eyes scan the same letter you just read, picking out the same words.

“You’re such an asshole!” they told you, rolling their eyes, gently hitting your arm with the back of their hand

You’ve never been shy about showering Jordan with compliments. Saved in screenshots never to see the light of day, Jordan has kept some of them.

You: OMG!!! Jordan you’re so pretty. I’m so lucky to call you my friend.

You: You’re so handsome!!! I love your hair slicked back! If she doesn’t agree you need to drop her.

You: ur a solid 9/10. Lost a point for not giving me a sip of your drink yesterday lol

Jordan Li has been in love with you since age 16. Probably earlier, if they want to admit that to themselves. You’ve only ever expressed interest in men so they kept their feelings to themselves, not wanting to make you uncomfortable, figuring it was better to have you as a friend only than not at all.

In your first year, you were even roommates. While Jordan flourished in crim, you bounced between majors before settling into politics.

Every time you brought some frat guy to your shared dorm, Jordan died inside. Trying to get over their long-standing crush, Jordan did the same.

When Jordan made number 2 on the top five, you celebrate with them. Maybe a bit too hard that night.

You were there when their ranking dropped after the death of Brink. A man you only met twice, but you would do anything for Jordan. Especially given how hard you fell for both versions of them last year.

“I’m going to try to tag team with your dad, get some points for you and keep him engaged, yeah?” You ask over your shocker. Jordan is behind you, ready to help with zipper duty for your dress.

“You don’t have to.”

You let out a small scoff. “Dude. I’m doing poli supe. Schmoozing with rich people is like half our courses. Zip me up please.”

“How long have you known Jordan? You seem to be a good couple.” The man you and Jordan's dad suckered into a conversation asks. He's sitting beside Jordan's parents, while you and Jordan are on the edge of some fancy pit or table.

“Well, these two have known each other pretty well over the years. Jordan tried to kiss her when they were kids, and she hit him with her Black Noir lunch box.”

“It was a Queen Mauve lunch box, actually.” You say with a laugh.

“And she called him ‘Jojo’ for probably the next two years out of spite.” Kayla laughs. It's a special embarrassment when your parents tell stories about your childhood. All the stories are about you but it's been so long ago you can’t remember any of it. Jordan looks worse off, slouchy posture against the banister, while you sit next to him. Part of you wants to tell him to sit up straight, but you figure you can play the grief angle better this way.

“Oh, and remember when Jordan got his wisdom teeth out? You guys were inseparable. I think I still have the photo of you two passed out watching TV!” Kayla gushes, reaching for her phone to find the photo.

“We all thought you two would be president and First Gentleman.” Dad insists. Your smile is fake and tight, knowing if Paul pulls out prom photos, you would have to quietly fling yourself out of a window.

Maybe you drank a bit too much liquid courage. Maybe the tension between them and their parents was getting to you. To give Jordan some space, you took their parents for a tour of your classes, knowing they’ll be talking to your family when they go back to Rochester.

Jordan shifting doesn’t even cause you to raise an eyebrow, the subtle sound just blurs into the background.

“Or president and First Lady.” You blurt out, four pairs of eyes darting towards you. “First supes in the Whitehouse? It would be political dynamite.”

“You like this version of Jordan?” Dad asks with bewilderment.

“Of course. I like Jordan because of how smart and driven they are. I like Jordan because of their weird sense of humour. It doesn’t matter what they look like.” you say, trying to prove it to their parents, but also to them. You’ve picked up on their crush many times, too kind to say something that would embarrass them or hurt them. It’s only recently how much you found yourself staring at fem Jordan and wanting to kiss her too.

“I’m going to go and mingle some more.” says the man, Brad or Rob maybe. You forgot his name right after you met him. His words are like a bucket of cold water was dumped over you. You don’t confess your feelings to Jordan just to Jordan, but in front of their judgy parents, and a possible donner. You need to go.

You stand and straighten out your dress.

“I’m going to go too. Other donors to talk to. Go Jordan!" You finish with an awkward laugh and even more cringy go team! gesture by yourself.

You didn't lie to Jordan and their parents. You did go and talk to other donors but it twists your stomach every time you bring up how amazing their grades are, or how skillful they are at fighting. After donor number three gives you an answer that technically was “we’ll see” but heavily implied to be "yes for Jordan” you went to hide in the bathroom. You have enough battery left on your V-phone to keep it going for most of the night. Tomorrow you can talk to Jordan and hope you don’t fuck it all up.

You barely look up when the door opens, already have done too much for the day to care who it is.

‘Hey, can we talk?” You snap to attention at the voice. Of course, you know that voice. It's Jordan, still feminine presenting.

“Fuck, Jord, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have spring that on you. I promise I’ll just go back and try to get you some votes, you’re going through a lot.” You say, in a rush to get the words out, desperate not to fuck up you’re friendship. The rim of the sink is hard against your back but you can’t help but shrink into it.

“Did you mean it?” They ask, still keeping a distance from you.

“Yeah, of course, I don’t want to ruin this friendship.”

“No, what you said in front of my parents.”

Oh right. Your confession. Fuck. It's already out there, might as well keep it going.

“I may, uh-” you curse yourself for leaving your drink outside the bathroom, wanting something in your hands to stall. “-have a crush. On you. My best friend.” You twist your hands together, wishing Jordan didn’t look so pretty. If your heart beats any faster you may go into cardiac arrest.

It's Jordan that indicates your third first kiss. It's gentle, and fast, like the second one. She pulls back quickly, but you run your fingers through her hair and pull her closer. The intensity from the first first kiss is still there, only this time you both share it. Her hand smooths up to your face, thumb stroking your cheek in a silent invitation to open your mouth. You comply, and tilt your head into her palm. Her tongue sweeps into your mouth and you can taste the champagne they were drinking.

The sound of the door opening makes you both jump.

“Stall?” You ask, voice low and hushed. You squirm out from where she has you between the sink and her. You push the door open to the nicest-looking stall, desperate to keep kissing Jordan. They follow your lead eagerly, one hand wrapped around your shoulder to keep you near.

Dipping their head, they softly kiss your jaw before moving onto your neck. You silently thank the other two women arguing in the bathroom so that your gasp goes unnoticed. Giving Jordan's hair a small tug, you pull them back up to you. The shit-eating grin they flash you makes you want to almost get caught again.

Your free hand moves to their waist, trying to get as close to them as physically possible.

You pull back slightly, wanting so desperately to get lost in the moment, but the commotion in the other stall is distracting. Plus you’re nosey.

Jordan frowns when you pull away, eyes scanning your face for something they did wrong. You shake your head and tip it over to the stall.

“The fuck?” They mouth to you, hand still around your shoulder.

You gently push Jordan against the door to give yourself space to squat down. You see two pairs of feet in the stall across the wall. You hear the voices quiet down, before the sound of someone peeing. You frown slightly, weird fetish to do at a memorial gala but you hear rumours about students into more fucked up shit.

“We should get outta here.” You whisper to Jordan.

“Weird place for our third first kiss.” Jordan whispers back. You reach around them to unlock the stall door. Third first kiss. You replay the words in your head, a warm feeling blooming in your chest.

You gently push them out of the stall, trying to keep your laughs quiet as you both scurry past the other couple in the stall.

#I read it once for spelling and flow then released it to the world #jordan li x reader #jordan li x y/n #jordan li imagine #gen v x reader #gen v x y/n #gen v imagine #whew this got out of hand #time to talk about jordan

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thot-of-khonshu · 1 year

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Say You Love Me (Joel Miller x f! reader)

1K Celebration | Masterlist

Part 2 - Coming Soon

Pairing: Joel Miller x f! Reader (pre and post outbreak)

Rating: M (18+, explicit smut)

Word Count: 6.2K

Summary: Red wine. Rage. Regret. Reunions. When pride separates you from the man that got away in 2003, you thought you’d never see him again. But when going to tie loose ends for Bill and Frank, you see him and a young companion.

Content: TLOU spoilers, slight changes to the story, age gap (~10-15 years), multiple sex scenes, dirty talk, unprotected p in v sex, fingering, cowgirl, creampie, oral (f), rough sex, alcohol consumption, grief, violence, mentions of death, the musical stylings of Fleetwood Mac

A/N: Happy TLOU day! This initially started out as a creation for my 1K celebration to "Maroon" by Taylor Swift, but as you can see it completely manifested into its own short story. Thanks to everyone for being patient for my writing. I hope y'all enjoy!

Every time you have a dream about everything before, you try to document it down in your ratty journal with your pen running on empty. Everything seems to run on empty.

You dream of your former life less and less as the years go by. It’s a hazy memory and you can’t remember how we were able to live on such luxuries and be comfortable and be happy.

You dream of the man with his large hands and warm smile on your living room floor, warm with wine.

Red lips. Red cheeks. Red wine.

The bitter taste of cheap red blends on his tongue.

Sticky Austin nights where you’d start outside in the thick humidity but end it in ice cold a/c. It never mattered anyway, Joel always ran hot like a furnace so you’d have to settle yourself in between thin sheets.

You met through Megan who was dating his younger brother Tommy, a Gulf War vet that was more serious about holding his liquor than he ever was fighting in the war. One night when he’d had too much to drink, Joel, the responsible one, picked him up. A sleeping baby girl in the backseat.

He barged through your front door. “Tommy, what the hell are you doin’ bothering these–”

He stopped as soon as he looked at you. From that moment it was like the two of you had this instant communication. He didn’t have to say anything, all you needed to do was look into his eyes.

“HI there.” He smile at you, that warm smile with that dimple on the side of his cheek. “I–uh–hope you’re not the girl my little brother’s been botherin’ “

“That would be my roommate.” You smile back at him. His smile grows even wider and you can’t remember the last time you had such electric eye contact with someone.

Tommy bursts through the door, coming out of the bathroom with Megan hoisting his large frame.

“Please get him in bed and away from vodka.” She hoists Tommy onto Joel.

“Tell me a bedtime story.” He slurs. Joel looks at you apologetically as he turns to bring him to the car. You and Megan exchanged a silent look as she could pick up on what was going on and she nudged you to go after him.

“Hey wait!” You call out, you try not to focus on his broad back muscles. “I think it’s clear Tommy needs some chaperoning whenever he comes over here.”

He furrows his brow in confusion at first. “Y’know, his big brother to come over and make sure he’s doing right?” ‘You smile.

“Just say when and I’ll tag along.” Joel winks at you.

He was always a man of his word.

The next weekend, Megan invited Tommy over and suggested he bring Joel along as well. Tommy came barreling in like a freight train and Joel laid back to greet you at the door. He held up a six pack of beer.

“I didn’t wanna come over empty handed. It’s all we had in the fridge.” Joel said.

“Yeah, Joel wanted to come right over after workin’ tonight. Even let Sarah stay at a friends house, ain’t that sweet?”

“Alright, Tommy. I still clearly gotta babysit you.” Joel rolls his eyes.

“We’ll, thank you for the beer, Joel but we’re more wine drinkers here. Do you like red blend?”

“I’ll drink whatever you give me.”

————————

A few hours later, Megan and Tommy have gone off on their own adventure. You and Joel split the bottle of wine between the two of you and despite him stating he could handle his liquor, his large body was sprawled out across your living room floor with his empty glass tipped over.

“Miller, I thought you said you could handle your liquor.” You grin at him from the couch.

“I usually can. I don’t know what was in your roommate’s cheapass screwtop–”

“Hey–don’t blame the alcohol for why you’re currently on our living room floor right now. And while she can’t defend herself.”

“You saying I’m a sloppy drunk?” He leans closer towards you and you observe the patches in his beard.

“I’m saying I don’t wanna hold your hair back above the toilet.” You grin at him. He looks at you, hard. You feel your heart rate rising and the moment is almost too much to handle. You need to ground yourself with something, anything. You turn to your vinyls.

“You like records?” You ask him, moving towards the shelf.

“Didn’t know people your age still listened to them.” He called out. You scoffed.

“I’m not that much younger than you. Besides, this is timeless. CDs might come and go like 8 track players, but these? These are gonna last through everything.” You hold up a record and he nods in approval, Fleetwood Mac’s self titled album. You flip to side two and the sounds of “Say You Love Me” flood the living room.

You join him on the living room rug and close your eyes, listening to Christine McVie’s voice.

Have mercy, baby, on a poor girl like me

You know I'm falling, falling, falling at your feet

I'm tingling right from my head to my toes

So help me, help me, help me make the feeling go

“God, her voice is just so ageless. I know everyone always looks at Rumours as their best but this one is just cla–” Your breath hitches when you feel his hand brush your cheek. You feel the warmth of his face coming closer and closer as you finally open your eyes to see Joel ready to kiss you.

But he forgot his wine glass in his hand as it spilled onto you with the remainder of his alcohol.

“Shit, shit.” Joel stumbles up and looks around. “I am so sorry, I can clean that up.”

You get up to him walking around your kitchen, looking for paper towels. When he turns around, you put your hand at his chest and look up at his beautiful brown eyes.

“Why don’t you help me find a new shirt?” You ask him in a low voice. His jaw is slacked as he slowly nods.

“Yes ma’am.” He follows behind you, taking your hand as you lead him into your bedroom.

One thing about Joel Miller? He takes his time. He takes his time giving you soft, syrupy kisses and drawing the anticipation by pulling at your lip.

He builds you up by meticulously touching every part of your body while peeling off your clothes, grabbing at the swell of your ass, the dips of your hips and pulling at the back of your neck. He wants to make you feel amazing.

Once you’re naked, he lays you on top of your bed and peers up at you as he pulls your knees apart.

He drags the tip of his tongue over your clit, savoring your taste as he moans in relief. You tremble against him, dragging your hand through his dark curls as he begins to put his full mouth into you, his tongue entering you as his nose brushes your clit. You can’t help but squirm on top of him, rocking onto him as he moans below you.

“You taste so fucking good.” Joel gets up for air briefly and dives back in. Kissing at your inner thighs, he takes one of his thick fingers and pushes one into you, your body instantly tightening around it.

“So wet for me too.” Joel moans. He moves in earnest, putting his mouth back onto your clit and the pleasure is all you can concentrate on. He adds another finger, getting up to watch you squirm at his fingers as your wetness fills the room from his methodical thrusts.

You feel yourself tense, your muscles tightening around him as your pleasure intensifies and your breaths go shallow. When he curves his fingers and moves his mouth back to your clit, you short circuit completely.

You writhe on top of him as you cum, moaning louder than you’d expected and hoping Tommy and Megan don’t hear anything. Your shallow breaths fill the room and your eyes are shut. Pleasure still pulsates through your body as Joel is now on top of you, kissing at your throat as you feel his heavy, still clothed cock on top of you.

When you release it, it springs from his boxers, thick and dripping at the top with precum. You rub the tip of his head as he lets out a hiss of air at your throat. You bring the liquid to your mouth and savor the taste.

“I hope this ain’t too forward,” His hands cup and knead at your breasts. “But I’m desperate to feel you.”

“Please” You beg. “I have condoms but I’m also on the pill. Whatever you need, just please don’t stop.”

Joel lines himself up against you, rubbing his thick cock against your soaked walls. His eyes don’t leave yours as he gently enters you. It’s soft at first, him trying to fit in every single inch while also not cumming immediately while he was inside of you. You gripped him, wet and tight.

During the pause when he’s finally deep inside of you, you both are riddled with heavy breathing. Your kisses are slow but hungry. You start to move below him and that’s what drives him wild.

He begins to pump faster inside of you, rubbing himself against your swollen clit. You don’t think you’ve ever had something so intimate before. You’d had sex, but this just felt like something out of another dimension. Joel was entirely focused on your pleasure, hungrily pawing at your body as he rocked on top of you.

When circled his fingers on your clit, you knew you were going to cum a second time. You grabbed at the bedsheets, another climax of pleasure making you arch.

After you came twice, Joel was needier. He raised your leg so he could get into a deeper position and you had felt so incredibly full. He fucks you at a rapid speed and feeling you convulse around him for another orgasm wasn’t helping and the room filled with the noise of his balls slapping onto your skin.

You loved that his broad body surrounded you, that all you could feel was him and all you could hear were his grunts into your ear. His hips began to stutter as he filled himself into you, emptying himself as much as he could into your tight walls.

You don’t realize how badly you were gripping him until you rub his back, his head on your chest and you feel the claw marks. His breathing is labored, still feeling the impact of your sex as you bury your fingers into his curls.

“This should go without being said,” Joel looked up at you. “But I would really like to take you out sometime.”

You weren’t going to say no to that.

—---------------------------------

You wake up, the motion of the car rattling you.

“Morning, sunshine.” Megan smiles behind the steering wheel. Before everything, Megan was terrified of driving and now you’d catch her dead before she’d stop and pick someone up, choosing to run them over instead because they were likely a hunter.

And wouldn’t you rather kill than be killed?

It all happened so fast but so painfully, hauntingly slow at the same time. In one night, civilization as you knew it had ceased to exist. Megan came home, shaking, covered in blood telling you you had to leave tonight.

You drove until you ran out of gas. You walked until you were able to rob some idiots that tried to give you a ride and take advantage of you. And that’s how you ended up at the Philadelphia quarantine zone. Somewhere far away from Texas and the sticky heat and long carefree nights.

There were a lot of men like that in this world, who thought they could take things from vulnerable women. Little did they realize, the vulnerable women didn’t make it. Not all of them were like that, though. Bill and Frank weren’t.

You’d met Frank over the radio, talking over some music his partner BIll was playing as some sort of signal. Frank was incredibly kind, warm and worldly in a world with almost nothing left. He’d offered to trade things between you and Megan’s QZ and the Lincoln town he lived in with Bill.

And Bill? He was…Bill. He wasn’t exactly kind and open to strangers, but he knew the both of you and trusted you after all of these years. Whoever Frank loved, he loved. So when you’d heard the 80’s distress signal coming from the radio, you’d decided to risk the trip and make sure everything was okay.

When you had gotten to the gate, usually coded, it was wide open and the two of you exchanged looks in surprise. Without having to say a word, you grabbed your handgun out of the glove compartment. Megan pulled up to Bill and Frank’s, seeing their door open.

The two of you had tried to get out of the car as quietly as possible. Crouching behind the car as you heard the crunch of footsteps.

“It could be Bill and Frank.” Megan whispered.

“When is it like Bill to ever keep the gate open?” You asked her. You heard the crunches coming closer.

The two of you signal to step out at the same time, adrenaline pumping through your veins. After all of this time, it never gets easier doing this.

Before you could pull the trigger, you hear a HYAH and see a small figure jump out towards you.

Jesus, it’s a child. Before she could try to stab either of you, Megan pins her down to the ground, knocking the knife out of the way and the kid squirms under her.

You see another figure jump into frame to defend the kid. A man with grey hair, a broad frame and a handgun. The two of you are in a standoff but something feels off. You know you’ve been to Lincoln so many times before but something about this feels entirely too familiar.

“Do not hurt the kid.” The man drawls, looking down at her and then back at you. “She didn’t—“

And then his eyes meet yours. Still as piercing as you remember. And you realize that you’re standing in front of Joel Miller for the first time in twenty years.

“…Joel?” Megan says something first.

“Hi Megan.” He looks at her briefly to acknowledge her, but he looks back at you. The gun still in his hand, gripped tightly.

“We’re not looking for any trouble.” Joel says. “We’re here to check on our friends.”

“Bill and Frank.” You finally say to him. “Our friends.” The look of confusion on his face is apparent.

“You two knew Bill and Frank?” He asks.

“How about ‘it’s good to see you two alive after all this time’, Joel?” You ask him, exasperated. You were tired of holding this gun, your hands were getting clammy and you had no intentions of shooting him. Even after all this time, you knew he wouldn’t shoot both of you either.

Megan lets the girl up and she runs to Joel. She puts her gun down and you motion for him to follow suit. He looks at you for a long hard moment, his eyes scanning your body as you feel yourself redden with embarrassment, feeling fully exposed in front of him and looking like apocalyptic shit. He sets his gun down as you follow suit.

“I think y’all should come inside, then.” Joel said. “Some things you need to see.”

You follow Joel and the young girl-you find out her name is Ellie- into Bill and Frank’s house. You go to the same place that Bill and Frank would keep supplies, notes or any clothing that Frank had to spare - the second cabinet to the right. That’s where you see their note.

Frank’s condition had worsened over the past few years. A degenerative disease you weren’t sure exactly what it was, but when he asked for a wheelchair from the Philadelphia QZ you were both more than happy to bring it to them. You knew it was only a matter of time before he went. When Bill decided to go with him, you weren’t surprised. Despite his exterior, everything Bill did was for Frank, the man he loved.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had felt that kind of devotion to someone until today.

The four of you sit at the table. An awkward silence between the four of you, the only sound being Ellie rocking her chair. One of the legs must’ve been broken and Bill hadn’t gotten to it ye–

Oh. Right.

“I didn’t know Bill and Frank knew anyone else besides us.” Megan said.

“Likewise. I guess that makes sense.” Joel said, his eyes still on you.

You agreed. “Frank, I’m sure, would’ve loved the extra company. More people to host garden parties and socialize for but if Bill had anything to do with it–”

“He would’ve threatened to kill us.” You say in unison.

“Trust me, he made sure to make us aware if we tried anything he had his gun right on the table the first time we met.” You said.

“His reputation precedes himself.” Joel said.

The two of you are silent for a moment. Megan and Ellie looking between the both of you.

“Am I missing something?” Ellie asked, pointing at the two of you back and forth.

“And I think that’s my queue to look around for some food. Maybe we can have some dinner, figure out what the fuck we’re doing and then call it a night before we go our separate ways, huh?” Megan quickly said.

You sit at the table with Joel and Ellie, completely silent as Joel is now looking away from you and Ellie keeps looking at the both of you.

“You can cut the tension with a knife, huh?” Ellie whistles.

“Ellie, go take a shower. They’ve got hot water.” Joel says. She quickly gets up and runs down the hall.

“You don’t have to tell me twice. But after I take one, you’re going in because man. And if we’re gonna be around company…”

“Ellie.” He raises his voice into a stern inflection you haven’t heard since…

Where the hell is Sarah?

—-------------------------------------------------

Later that night, you’ve hunkered down with Megan, Joel and Ellie. The four of you have rabbit along with some vegetables and rice from Frank’s garden. The tension has subsided as you’ve gotten into the wine cabinet. That’s when the memories flow back. The three of you share stories from Texas, your old lives that seem so long ago. Reminiscing on how things used to be as Ellie interjects with a question about the old world every now and then while reading a comic she snagged from Bill’s basement.

Megan eventually stretches her arms up. “Well, I’ve been drivin’ all day and I’m exhausted. I’m about to hit the hay.”

“Well I am gonna finish reading this in peace and quiet so I can read about this alien’s guts spilling out without interruptions. Goodnight! You kids have fun!” Ellie grins.

Megan gives you a look etched in worry before she heads to the stairs. You roll your eyes at her because you can take care of your goddamn self. You have been for ages.

You hear the footsteps go upstairs as you and Joel sit across from each other at the table. It’s like a lockbox with feelings you hadn’t had in years starts rattling in your chest, a monster of them waiting to come out and erupt.

You look over at him, his hair slicked back from his shower, grays prominent in his hair and his beard. The swell of his lips was still prominent and had the ability to drive you crazy.

“Bill and Frank.” You say to him, hoping to silence the voices in your own head.

“Bill and Frank.” He repeats, his hands fidgeting on the table.

“So, uh, I guess while we’re here–I’m gonna raid the liquor cabinet.” You head to the liquor cabinet to see if there’s anything strong enough to hold the awkward air between the two of you. You see a dusty bottle in the back of the cabinet, a red blend that looked entirely too familiar to pass up.

You bring it to the table, setting it down in front of Joel. He looks up at you and shakes his head in disbelief, a small smile etched across his face.

“After all this time, you still drink the same shitty red blend.” Joel says.

“Can you handle your liquor any better, Miller?” You slide it towards him, he catches the bottle with one large hand.

“I guess we’ll have to see.” He grumbles, slicing the wine bottle open with his knife.

It didn’t take long for you to feel the heaviness of the wine, sloshing in your stomach as you and Joel took turns taking long drinks from the bottle.

He tells you of Tess, his smuggling partner that had recently gotten infected while smuggling Ellie out of the city. While you admired her bravery and her sacrifice, you can’t help but feel a sting of jealousy. You’d had your partners every now and then, but none of them ever stuck around long enough. None of them ever mattered like he did.

“She was like family.” He stated.

You knew you couldn’t just say sorry. “I’m sorry for your loss” almost seems insulting these days with teh weight of how much it happens.

“Did–uh–you have any smuggling partners?” Joel asks, sipping on the bottle and looking away as if to play nonchalant. Twenty years and you can still tell when it’s all bullshit.

“I did. None of them were exactly like family but they were enough to help Megan and I get by. I never trusted them enough to introduce them to Bill and Frank.” You said.

“Oh.” Was all he could say.

“I–I couldn’t. I just couldn’t let myself get too far with anyone after–” You can’t even bare to say it. But he looks at you as if you have, like you’ve just cut part of his soul open.

“What the fuck happened?” You muttered, swigging from the bottle.

“You want the version they’re teaching kids in FEDRA school or the version we remember?” Joel asked.

“Joel…” You give him a long look. He looks at you, briefly, breaking eye contact to look anywhere else and scowl. He chooses to grab the bottle from you, taking a large gulp.

“It doesn’t matter now, does it?” He says.

“Maybe it doesn’t.” You say. “But I still wanna know. I just…we could’ve had this life.”

His brow arches.

“You and me. Tommy and Megan. Bill and Frank. We could’ve been a team. It would’ve been something.”

“Tommy decided to fuck off and join the Fireflies. Pretend like he was makin’ a difference. And then when that fell through last I heard he was in Wyoming. Megan was better off.” He stated.

“You were…” He silently mutters.

“We don’t have to talk about any of it. I’ve done some shit I regret but I did it to survive. Because that’s what we have to do in this new world. I get it. But those first few years…I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

He takes a large drink of wine. “Or Tommy.”

“Or Sarah.”

“Well, there’s no damn use in thinkin’, is there?” Joel snaps back. You know you’ve clearly hit a nerve talking about Sarah. With whatever happened to her. Was she with the Fireflies? Was she with her Uncle Tommy? You’d hate to think it could be any worse. That brilliant, beautiful girl in any sort of trouble or not existing in this world.

By the pain in Joel’s eyes, the exterior he’d tried to mask by furrowed brows and a hardened expression, you knew. Suddenly the air felt thick.

“I’m sorry…I’m gonna step outside.” You rush to the porch as you feel the tears flood through your eyes. Sarah’s gone. You didn’t know that after all of the pain, after all of the violence, after everything this world has taken from you, that you could still feel this searing pain of loss.

You suddenly hated yourself for not being there. For not calling. For running away from things when they had gotten too serious, as if some bullshit relationship problems would matter in a week’s time in that moment. You had no idea what was about to happen.

If you’d known you would’ve lost everything and everyone in your life you had loved, you would’ve tried to hold on to the man you loved and his family for as long as you could.

But then again…maybe it was better this way that you weren’t there. You didn’t hold him back, you didn’t hold him back either. This world isn’t for the weak. Love makes you fucking weak. Joel makes you so fucking weak, 20 years later. It’s infuriating, intoxicating and confusing.

You hear the door open and footsteps come through. You wipe your tears away as you see Joel sit next to you on the bench.

“I’m sorry.” He says, solemnly. “You didn’t know. It was that night of the…”

“I know it’s so god damn insignificant now…but I’m so sorry I didn’t call.” You choke. Joel remains silent, his lips wavering.

“You didn’t know.” He repeats himself.

“So what happens now?” You ask him.

“We do what we came here to do. Get our supplies, celebrate Bill and Frank and we drink.”

“We drink.” You nod.

And drink you did.

You drank and remembered the good times, the times when he’d come over every Friday night that Sarah had a sleepover and you’d talk and touch each other until the sun came up. You drank and remember how even though Megan and Tommy had fizzled out, he had still come over to be with you. You drank and remembered the bad times, when you couldn’t handle the intimacy, you both couldn’t decide what this was.

You can’t bear the way he looks at you. You need an escape. You head to Frank’s record collection.

You dust off the record collection and see the familiar cover of Fleetwood Mac’s self titled album. You look up at Joel and his cheeks look like they sting with glee. He lets out a small giggle.

“What was it I used to tell you?” You try to remember.

“Records are timeless.” Joel says as you flip the vinyl to side B. “You were always right.”

The room floods with the faint sounds of “Say You Love Me”. It had been years since you’d heard this song but you still remembered every word. Joel extended his hand out to you and you took it, fingers stroking his palm.

You pressed yourself lightly against him, turning and looping over the hardwood floor as the music continued. Somehow, someway, you could still smell his subtle sandalwood scent.

'Cause when the lovin' starts and the lights go down

And there's not another living soul around

You woo me until the sun comes up

And you say that you love me

The two of you giggled like children as you looped around Bill and Frank’s living room. The light of the moon shone on Joel’s face and the hardened exterior of the older man was gone for a moment, and you were taken back to 2003 where that gorgeous carpenter was leaning against your doorway for the first time.

Your hand crept up his neck, feeling his peppered curls as he shivered. In response, he pressed his body closer to yours until you were cheek to cheek.

He turns to face you. His eyebrows scrunched in worry and confusion of the feelings that were rising. He never thought he would see you again, and these damn emotions kept flooding through his body.

“I showed up to your house that morning.” He whispered. “Right after we dropped Sarah off at school. My birthday.”

“So do you still think it doesn’t matter?” You asked him.

“It wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“But it would’ve given us one more good day. Before it all went to shit. And if that’s all we had, then I’m okay with that. Better than the alternative.”

You pressed your lips onto his, slow and calculated at first. You gave him one small peck to test his willingness to kiss you. You looked back at Joel and his eyes were shut tightly.

“I’m sorry–I shouldn’t have–” You try to break away but he tightens his grip around you.

“I’m just trying to savor this moment.” Joel whispers. You meet his lips again, hungrier, needier. Both of your hands exploring each other as if to make sure this was real and you weren’t dreaming it.

“Joel.” You break away as he strokes your cheek. “Let’s go to bed.”

“Yes ma’am.” He says.

It’s no shock that after all this time, you and Joel still fit together like a glove. Your body melts into his with a comfort that you haven’t felt in years. You didn’t know your body could ever feel that good again.

You didn’t think your hair, greasy and damaged when you looked at it in the mirror, could be stroked like that again. As if Joel had gotten a spool of gold and he didn’t want to ruin it, Joel petted you with delicacy as he undressed you.

Your stomach, somehow softened throughout the years with age even though you hadn’t had proper nourishment in years, being planted with soft kisses as Joel moved south, desperate to taste your pussy again.

You climb onto his lap and grip him with one hand, still as thick and as long as ever. You take a moment to look at him through the moonlight, after all these years he’s still incredibly handsome but this world took the sparkle in his eye away.

“Please, sweetheart.” Joel begs. “Let me feel you again. I’m desperate.”

That word is what makes you sink down onto him, inch by inch until he’s all the way inside. It was probably a bad idea to attempt to do this without any prep work but you didn’t care, you needed him and it filled a part of you that hadn’t been taken care of in years.

“Fuck. Fuck.” Joel rasps. “You’re still so goddamn tight.” You can feel your inner muscles clenching at his thickness and the desperate groan that he releases makes you weak.

You start to move, slowly, as his fingers dig into your hips. The pressure between the two of you is unbearable, you feel him and his full length but you’re desperate for more release. Joel’s ragged breaths concern you, though.

“Are you gonna be okay if I go faster?” You ask him.

“I ain’t that old, sweetheart.” Joel rasps under you, that damn smile back in action.

And with that, you lifted yourself up and slammed yourself into him, grinding your clit against his cock at a fast and desperate pace.

He moves forward, putting a mouthful of your breast into his mouth as his other hand rests on your lower back. You can feel the intense pleasure so blindly that you don’t know how long it’ll be until it boils over. When you contract around him and cum, Joel lets out an animalistic groan.

“Fuck, that’s it.” He moans. “Milk my cock, baby.”

You ride out your orgasm and just when you think you have time to recover, Joel begins to thrust upward deep and hard. His hips snapping up and bouncing you on top of him. He tangles his fingers into your hair, pulling you down to thrust his tongue into your mouth.

You suck his tongue and desperately cling to him, unsure how much longer you’ll be able to go without cumming again.

“I can feel it, sweetheart.” Joel groans. “Cum around my cock one more time, just give me one more. Please.”

He breaks free from your tight embrace to rub your swollen clit as you grind on top of him again, trying to remain as silent as possible so you don’t wake anyone else in the house.

You convulse and cum around him again, dizzy with pleasure as he takes one leg for leverage and begins to fuck into you harder than before. At this point, you can’t control the sounds coming out of you as he hits a spot inside of you that feels so good. His hips begin to stutter and Joel fills himself into you. He cums so hard that you feel it leaking out of you while he’s still inside.

The two of you stayed just like that for a few moments, clung to each other as you heard his heartbeat hammering inside of his chest. You peppered soft kisses onto his body as you got from on top of him. The contrast of being full and then leaving him made you wince.

Joel got up from the bed and you hesitated for a moment. Did he regret this decision? Was he going to sleep in his own bed? When he came back, he had a warm washcloth and he used it to wipe between your legs. Hot water will never be taken for granted in this world.

The two of you then snuggled up together, the situation being better left unsaid. You knew that you both had to start preparing for the morning, so instead of talking, you just shut your eyes and tried to enjoy his strong arms around you.

—-----------------

You heard a faint knock at the door and almost forgot where you were for a moment. When you felt Joel’s arms around you, his lips pressing against your cheek, you woke up with the biggest smile you’d had in a very long time.

“Good morning, you two.” Ellie shouts throughout the door. “Knock knock. Megan’s making breakfast, wake your asses up, lovebirds!”

“Don’t–don’t come in here Ellie.” Joel tries to exclaim, sleep in his voice.

“I’m fucking good, man. I’m gonna help Megan with breakfast.” You hear her footsteps as she leaves the hallway and you turn to him.

He was still there. And suddenly you were reminded of each and every time he’d stayed over, Megan making everyone breakfast as you’d talk and laugh through the previous night.

This morning was no different. It felt oddly comfortable, the four of you enjoying each other’s company even though you knew it had to end. You’d spent the rest of the morning gathering supplies but then it was time to grab your backpack out of the bedroom.

Joel was sitting on the edge of the bed. It reminded you of how things were the previous day, where he couldn’t look you in the eye. He was riddled with discomfort. In this world, you’re so used to not even having to say goodbye. That’s honestly not as painful as having to do it.

You walk up to him, giving him a long hug.

“Joel, if it’s true what you told me – if she’s immune – this is huge. It might give the world another chance. It might give us another chance.” You say to him.

“You still have so much hope for the world. That's why I will always love you.” Joel whispers. You feel your heart crack. You feel the toolbox in your chest start to rattle.

You know you shouldn’t say it. You know you’d be an idiot to say something so vulnerable and stupid in this world. But if you don’t say it, what else do you have?

“I love you too, Joel. Take care of yourself, okay? Take care of Ellie. If you ever find yourself at the Philadelphia QZ you know where to find me.” You say to him.

He presses his lips against you softly. As if to savor every moment, every feeling. Every curve and swell of your lip. He grabs at the back of your neck and you mimic him, grabbing the back of his. As if pushing further into the kiss could bring you back to those hot Austin nights.

Because you knew this was the last time you’d get a good taste of home.

You walk him out towards the car, Ellie already next to the passenger seat bouncing up and down because she had never ridden in a car before. You and Megan send them both off, his reflection in the rearview mirror never leaving your sight until the truck becomes a small blur.

“You gonna be okay?” Megan asks you, with that same look of worry she had given you the night before.

You’re not sure if you will be, but you have to forge ahead as you always do. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.” You state. And the two of you get ready to go, heading into the car back to the QZ.

“Talk about a blast from the fuckin’ past.” Megan says, starting the car. “It’s funny…I had actually heard about Nick – y'know the one that was in the Fireflies– talking about somewhere in Jackson. Small fuckin’ world.”

You lean your head up against the car window. Your thoughts immediately go back to last night.

Small fuckin’ world indeed.

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strangersmunsons · 3 months

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Eddie, My Love! eddie munson x reader // valentine's day special series Day 4 Prompt: Baking 🍰 ~ 1,700 words you bake some cupcakes for your handsome older neighbor, Eddie. (implied age gap, intentionally vague)

You wipe sweat off your brow with the back of your hand, leaving a smear of frosting on your forehead.

This process has taken up more of your day than you expected it to, but you’ll spend as much time as necessary to get this right, because it’s for Eddie Munson.

Your handsome older neighbor has been occupying an alarming amount of space in your mind lately. It’s a recent development; you’d been moved into the new house for quite some time before you actually met him. He seemed to keep odd hours, and you only ran into him by chance one day, when you were both walking to the corner store up the road.

At first glance he was intimidating, with his long hair and all his leather, but he chatted with you easily during the whole impromptu excursion. Once inside the market he quickly bought his pack of cigarettes and then insisted on staying with you, so he could escort you back home, too.

He dragged on a Lucky Strike as he strolled down the sidewalk, his pretty face silhouetted against the setting sun in the distance, and you couldn’t look away. He left you at your door with a cheeky grin and a “Good to finally meet you. ‘Night, little lady.”

If those words had come out of anyone else’s mouth, you’re not sure what your reaction would have been. But spoken by Eddie? Your knees had gone weak.

Since then he seemed to be popping up more and more frequently. Every time you happened to glance out the window he was there. Sprawled out in a wicker chair on his porch, a paperback held flat against his knee; peering under the hood of his car, tinkering away on the engine; he even stopped by a few times when the weather got cold, offering to shovel the snow from your driveway and scrape the ice off your windshield, each time armed with a charming smile and a twinkle in his eye.

The self-indulgent part of you wants to believe it’s because he likes you, and so he’s making an effort for you to see him; the more rational part of you knows you’re seeing him now because you want to see him.

Regardless, you were thinking that you wanted to do something nice for him. Some neighborly gesture that’ll give him some indication of your interest, without requiring you to be too forward. You just hope that he’ll pick up on what you’re putting down.

The kitchen table is a mess of baking utensils and splatters of cake batter, but you’re pleased with the results. Six red velvet cupcakes iced — and filled — with cream cheese frosting and pink sprinkles are all neatly arranged on a platter, just waiting to be carried over to Eddie’s house. The heart-patterned liners feel appropriate but also a tad cheesy, maybe even overkill; but if he seems weirded out by the whole thing, you’ll just tell him they’re leftover from a batch you planned on taking to work.

You lose the apron and wash your hands in the sink, then skip to the bathroom to give yourself a final once over. You clean the frosting off your face, and fix your hair nervously with your fingers. Quit stalling.

You slip a coat on, and keep your hands as steady as possible as you carry the platter cautiously outside. Small, quick steps lead you to Eddie’s doorstep, and you balance the edge of the tray against your hip so you can rap your knuckles on the door.

The seconds tick by, and the door finally swings open. Eddie’s in black sweats and an Iron Maiden t-shirt, hair looking wild and disheveled; his eyes look puffy with sleep, but they light up when he realizes who he’s looking at.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says, voice husky from his afternoon nap. “What can I do for ya?”

“Hi,” you respond, soft and breathy with nerves. Your mouth opens to continue and then snaps shut again, a realization of horror creeping upon you: the lines you’ve been practicing in your head all day have evaporated into nothing. Poof! They’re gone, and now you’re standing here like an idiot.

Eddie stares at you curiously. You thrust the tray forward clumsily, any illusion of poise shattered. “These are for you!”

He looks startled. “Those are for me?” he repeats, like maybe he misheard you.

You nod.

Now he’s the one at a loss for words. “Thank you,” he says automatically, gazing down at the dessert-laden plate clutched between your hands. He shakes his head as though trying to clear it, and steps back inside the house, gesturing for you to enter. “Here, come inside. You’re not gonna have me eat these all by myself now, are you?”

You suck in a quick breath and scurry over the threshold, entering Eddie’s home for the first time. It’s a little messy but surprisingly cozy, with a squashy-looking furniture set and knick knacks on every flat surface. Music posters hang in black frames along the walls, showcasing a lot of long-haired men who, quite frankly, all look sort of the same to you, although they’re apparently all different bands.

“Have a seat,” he says, gesturing to the couch, “and I’ll get us some napkins.” You gingerly perch yourself on the soft leather cushion, while he disappears further back into the house, presumably into the kitchen. When he returns he plops down in the seat next to you, taking the platter and setting it down on the coffee table with a pile of napkins. Then he stifles a yawn as he slumps back into the couch.

You feel bad. “Were you asleep? I’m so sorry if I woke you up.”

He waves you off. “Don’t worry, my alarm went off a few minutes ago. If I don’t set one when I nap, I’ll sleep the whole day away. These old bones are tired, you know,” he jokes.

You shake your head in disagreement. “You’re not old.”

He pokes your shoulder. “I’m old next to you.”

You try to laugh but there’s a pang in your heart. Is he trying to tell me something? You wring your hands, and don’t reply.

Eddie peers at you with a gentle smile on his lips, his dark eyes crinkled at the corners. “Did you make these yourself?”

“I did indeed.”

“They look amazing.” He picks one up and takes a large bite, the frosting smearing clean up his nose. You giggle through a bite of your own dessert.

“What?” he says thickly, giving you a deadpan stare. “Something on my face?”

Hesitantly, you reach out with your napkin, wiping the sugary cream from his nose and upper lip. He scrunches his face but pushes into your hand, letting you clean him up. A thrill shoots through you at being able to touch him, even if it’s through a paper barrier.

“Thanks, sweetheart. These are incredible, by the way. Thank you for bringing them.”

“Of course.”

He clears his throat, and sets his cupcake down on the table so he can give you his full attention. “If you don’t mind me asking, um…why did you bring them?”

You’re answer evasively, still unsure of how he sees you. “Because I thought you’d like them.”

He gives you that penetrating stare again, and it’s like you’re being swallowed up in those dark irises. You feel as though he must see right through you, all your intentions laid bare.

“Thank you for thinking of me. You’re real sweet for that.” He raises an eyebrow at you. “Do you do this for all your neighbors?”

“No. But my other neighbors don’t walk me home from the corner store and shovel my sidewalk.”

He purses his lips, as though he’s deep in thought, although still half-teasing you. “I see. So these cupcakes are purely transactional?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. He’s not really giving anything away, and this game is too hard for you to keep playing. “Well, no. I also…just wanted to do something nice for you. To make you happy.”

His face is impassive. “Rest assured, you’ve certainly done that.” He leans in closer to you, hand rubbing his chin pensively. “But you know what would make me even happier?”

You hold your breath. “What’s that?”

“If you stayed for dinner.”

Your heart leaps with joy. “You mean it?”

“Yes.” His warm expression suddenly flickers with worry. “But only if you really want to.”

“I really want to, Eddie.”

There’s a brief silence, and the energy in the room shifts. Eddie lets his hand wander over to your knee, gazing at you with heavy-lidded eyes. “I like it when you say my name,” he whispers, staring unabashedly at your lips.

Feeling both validated and bold, you close the distance separating the two of you. “I’ll just bet,” you whisper, letting your smiling lips ghost over his with every word.

Strong, tattooed hands hold both sides of your face as Eddie finally seals his mouth to yours in a kiss. It starts out firm but gentle, and you sigh; his tongue slips in between your parted lips, sugary-sweet, and you press your body closer to his. He moves to embrace you tightly, winding one arm around your waist, and cupping the back of your head with his other hand, his kisses becoming deeper and more frantic.

He suddenly breaks away, gasping.

“Everything okay?” you ask dazedly, not finished with him.

He laughs. “Everything’s perfect,” he reassures you. “I’ve been hoping this would happen. But I want you to know, regardless of what happens in the next few minutes, I really do want to cook for you.”

You melt, fingers playing with the curls at the back of his neck. “You’re a really nice guy, you know that?”

He brushes your kiss-swollen bottom lip with a calloused thumb. “I’m glad you think so.”

His tone confuses you. “Others don’t?”

“I have a certain look.”

“I like how you look.”

He presses another quick kiss to your lips. “You’re a sweet girl,” he says quietly, echoing his statement from earlier.

You fall back into him, and although it’s several hours later, Eddie makes good on his promise. Over dinner, he poses the question again, “You know what would make me even happier?”

You bite, fingers intertwined with his. “What would make you even happier?”

“If you just stayed.”

thank you for reading!! xoxo Valentine's Day Special Masterlist

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader

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empresskylo · 5 months

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HOW WOULD YOU LIKE TO RIDE HOME ON A REAL COWBOY? I GOT A SIX PACK OF COLD ONES ON ICE, AND MY ROOMIE'S OUT ALL NIGHT. SO YOU CAN SCREAM MY NAME AS LOUD AS YOU NEED TO, SUGARRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!

#GNAWING ON THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE #I NEED A LOBOTOMY #LMAO THE FACT THAT IT AUTO FILLED THAT LAST TAG???? HELLO???#gunslinger ghost #call of duty

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greatooglymooglyyy · 29 days

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The Last Ride Chapter Six (AU Cowboy!C.Sturniolo)

summary: when spoiled and sheltered city girl Y/N finds herself in running in the wrong crowd, her dad gives her an ultimatum. it's either spend the summer of her gap year on her uncle's ranch or face being cut off and finding a job. just when she thinks it can't get any worse, she meets Chris, the brooding farmhand who thinks he knows her type. but as the summer goes on, they both realize there may be more to the other than meets the eye.

requested and advised by @rootbeerworshiper

series masterlist

contains: angst, mentions of parental death, parental abandonment, fluff, cussing, 2.8k words

“Fuck!”

I yank my fingers out from where they’ve been caught in the wooden gate, wrapping my other hand around them to try to alleviate the throbbing sensation that overtakes my every thought.

Chris tuts, running back to the truck to grab something while I blink back tears. I do not want to cry in front of him over a jammed finger, even if it hurts like a bitch. He jogs back quickly with the ice pack from our lunches that he’s wrapped in a bandana. “Let me see.”

I reluctantly place my hand in his and let him apply pressure to my fingers with the cold damp cloth, hissing when he makes contact.

We lock eyes for a second but I look away, taking the ice pack from him and pulling away. The last thing I want to do right now is give him another chance to create a meaningless moment between us.

Chris takes the hint, stepping back and running a hand through his hair. “It looks like it’s gonna swell up on you. Maybe you should go find your uncle and take the day.”

I nod, examining my fingers and cautiously moving them. It strings but I doubt they’re broken. Still, any excuse to get a day off this ranch is one I’m willing to take. I start to head back towards the chickens, where I saw my uncle last when I hear Chris softly call my name.

Turning back, I give him a hard look of disdain. I can only assume the worst is to come out of his mouth. “What?”

His face drops and he shakes his head, muttering a low “never mind” before he heads back to the pickup truck. He’s actually given me a rare amount of space today after the weekend’s events, only speaking to me to give out tasks and then making himself scarce.

I watch him for a second, taking in his seemingly hurt expression. Something like sadness settles in my chest before I force myself to look away and shrug it off. I won’t allow myself to feel guilt over something that isn’t my fault.

Hopefully, he’s feeling regret after giving me yet another tragic date story to add to the books. That is if he’d even call it a date. Not that it matters. I’m here to pay off a debt, not worry about whether or not some small-town playboy is hot or cold.

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

I wake up still a bit woozy from the pain medication that Aunt Birdie gave me when I got home. Not wanting to force myself back to sleep, I head into the living room to watch TV. I expected both of them to be sleeping by now, but Uncle Buck sits rocking gently in his chair when I enter the living room.

He looks up at me and gives me a gentle smile. “How ya feeling, darling? How’s the hand?”

I flex my fingers for him, only the slightest bit of tenderness still lingering. “I think I’ll keep it.” I joke, walking over to take the seat nearest him.

Buck laughs softly, bringing his beer can to his lips and taking a sip. He clears his throat before he speaks, trying to sound casual. “And Chris? You keepin’ him?”

I raise an eyebrow, leaning forward in surprise. “Not you too, Uncle Buck.” Birdie had tried for hours to convince me of Chris’ merits after Friday’s shit show but my uncle had kept silent. Until now.

He puts the beer down and runs a hand over his face as if he’s already exhausted of the conversation. “I don’t wanna get into young folks' business or nothin’. But I heard through the grapevine what went down.”

Rolling my eyes at the small-town rumor mill, I sit back with a sigh. “Uncle-”

“I just wanna make sure you’ve got the whole story, Y/N. That’s all. Y’all are more similar than I think y’know.”

He breathes out heavily as he starts, shaking his head like the story pains him.

“Chris’ mama and daddy were one of those old classic love stories. I mean real lovey-dovey shit, high school sweethearts, prom king and queen, write a song about it, whole nine yards. Never seen two people be in love quite like that.

They got hitched fresh out of school and had him not long after. We all thought they were seven fools for getting settled so young. But they didn’t care. They were happy as a tick on a fat dog. You’d catch ‘em round town, hand in hand with this little boy, lookin’ straight off a Hallmark card. Picture perfect for years.

But then she got sick. Somethin’ wrong with her heart. Docs say she needs this big scary surgery or she won’t see another year. But right before it’s scheduled… they find out she’s pregnant. All those years after Chris. A little girl. So she refuses the surgery. The whole town tried to talk sense to that woman but nothing worked. And his daddy… man it was like he was this shell of a person. Like he was already gone before she had a chance to get better.

So when she died giving birth and he took off a few months later, it wasn’t even a surprise to much of anybody. Something snapped inside of him and I’d bet my last dollar that wherever he is, he’s still broken.”

My heart feels like it’s straining against my chest as I listen to his story, the air seeming so thick I can’t breathe. “And Chris?”

Uncle Buck closes his eyes for a moment before he answers. “He grew up. He grew up way too fast. They moved them into their grandma’s house. Lord bless her. She was already well into her aging by then. Imagine that. Man of the house at fifteen years old. Raising a baby damn-near by yourself. I still remember the day he came knocking at my door, hat in hand, beggin’ for a job. He was just a twig of a thing then. But anybody could see he had the world on his shoulders and he was terrified of dropping it. He still is.

Now I ain’t tell you this so you’ll take him back. Or whatever it is you kids are gettin’ up to. I’m just saying… if you’re gonna put him down, do me a favor and set him down easy, he’s been dropped enough.”

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

The next night, I wake up to a sharp knock on my window and sit up straight, a tinge of confusion setting in until I fully wake up. I rush over to the window and throw it open, knowing there’s only one person it could be. I passed him a note before I left work, asking him to visit me tonight. But I’d fallen asleep waiting on him when the night dragged on.

Chris leans awkwardly into the window, the energy so different from the last time we knelt here. He bites his lip, his eyes bouncing between my room and my face before he finally speaks. “Y/N. I am so fucking sorry. I didn’t think you wanted to hear it from me but it’s no excuse. I shoulda said it as soon as I saw you-”

Reaching out softly and lacing our hands together, I cut into his rambling, eager for him to know that it’s all okay now. “My uncle told me everything. I’m sorry too. It’s not fair of me to assume I’m the only one with a fucked up life.”

He grimaces, breathing out heavily through his nose. I can feel him fight the urge to shut down, relief engulfing me when he doesn’t pull away. “We should start a charity, huh? The deadbeat parents society. We’d make a fuckin’ killing.”

I smile weakly, knowing what it is to cover my pain with self-deprecating jokes. Knowing how it never once stopped me from hurting. Instead acting as a bandaid, simply covering the problem but not solving it.

Chris laughs out a bitter half-chuckle with a shake of his head. “It’s just ironic, you know? All those lessons, he’d drill into me. All that big talk about what it means to be a man. Just for him to turn around and walk out on his family. The one he had left. Some man he was.”

He clears his throat, trying to suppress the emotion in his voice, so I squeeze his hand in encouragement. He gives me a sad smile before he continues. “You know I used to think it was me. Like I wasn’t enough to make him want to stick around. But now? I look at Evie and it just don’t make sense. Ain’t a thing in the world could make me walk away from that face.”

His earnestness cracks me open and I bring my open hand up to cup the side of his face. “Take it from someone who’s got years of top dollar therapy behind them. None of it was your fault.”

Giving me a nod like he wants to believe me, Chris blinks at me slowly. “Maybe not.” He sighs and pulls away, drumming his fingers on the windowsill. “But last weekend was. What do you say, you let me try to make it up to you?”

“Depends on what you have in mind.” I lie for the second time in a row. But this time, the smile he gives me tells me he’s calling my bluff.

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

“What if I told you I’ve never fished before in my life?” I say anxiously as I watch Chris set up my rod, trying my hardest to keep my disgust at the bait out of my tone.

I’ve never been on such a small boat either, it’s more fun to feel all the waves this way, but I definitely will not be telling him that.

He gives me a lopsided smile, looking up from his hands. “Was that supposed to be hard to believe or somethin’?”

“Well I don’t know, people usually have a dad there to take them out fishing, even some of my city friends, but my dad was too preoccupied with everything work-related.” I sigh, not expecting the innocent conversation to take such a sad turn. “But I’m a country girl now I gotta learn the ropes.” I mock a Southern accent, trying to bring light to the clouded atmosphere.

Chris just laughs, shaking his head as he hands me the fishing rod, bait now attached and swaying slightly. “That’s okay. No time like the present.”

I look between him and the rod a couple of times before I give him my best puppy dog eyes. “Can’t you just cast it for me?”

He scrunches up his nose and shakes his head back at me. “No can do, Scotch. If I do, you’ll never learn and then you’ll tell the next country boy you pull, I never taught you right. And that I cannot have.” He jokes, leaning over and adjusting my hold on the pole.

“Oh, I promise you, you’re the only boy who will ever get me on a fishing boat.”

He’s silent for a beat before he locks eyes with me, a glint I can’t place in his eyes. “Careful with those promises, darlin’. Round here we make you keep ‘em.”

Chris doesn’t let the moment hold long enough for me to reply, standing and moving to sit beside me on my bench. He moves my hand from where it had been lying on my leg to join the other one on the pole. “Take your index finger and hold the line. Not like that. Perfect.”

It’s so funny how easily he slips into a bossy voice but I kind of love it. I’m starting to realize how much I like every version of him. He whistles low for my attention and I glare at him. Okay, maybe not every version.

“Watch me, okay.” He says as he picks up his own rod, narrating his movements as I study him. “Pull back to about right here and then swing forward. Make sure you’re watching the water where you want to land. When you’re about here, let go of the line. Simple.”

Chris smiles at me but I just stare back blankly. If he thinks I got any of that he’s an idiot. But, I’m way too stubborn to ask him to show me again so I take a deep breath and try to imitate him.

To my surprise, my cast actually lands somewhat near where I was aiming for and I laugh in shock. “I did it.”

“You did!” Chris says, matching my excitement while he reaches over to close the bail for me. He takes the pole from my hand and places it into his holder. “Watch it now. If you see a tug, you gotta grab it fast.”

“Got it, captain.” I bring my fingers to my forehead, saluting the boy who’s shaking his head and avoiding eye contact with me.

In between laughs, he speaks. “You have got to be the corniest motherfucker alive.”

Before I can even muster a reply, I get distracted by the sight in front of me. Well, I get distracted by the boy in front of me, taking off his baseball hat and ruffling his hair before placing it back on his head.

For whatever reason the sight of him puts me in a trance, and it’s incredibly embarrassing. “Whatcha looking at sweetheart?” He asks, taking full advantage of my flusteredness.

I scoff, turning away to hide the blush that threatens to taint my smiley cheeks, keeping a firm grasp on the rod in front of me. “Don’t get cocky now, Christopher, it's a bad look even for you.”

“Somehow I get the feeling you don’t think I have many bad looks.” He taunts, only earning a punch to the shoulder. “Okay, Scotch. I’m kidding, I'm kidding, really, I’m flattered.” He places his hands on his heart, only furthering my annoyance.

“We’ll just forget all that talking you’ve been doing about me around town then yeah? People here seem to have an understanding that you speak highly of me.” I argue, proving my point when his eyes roll to the back of his head in annoyance.

“Is that why-” He starts, but from the corner of my eye, I notice my pole begin to bend towards the water and gasp.

“Oh! It’s moving!” I say, jumping up from my seat and cutting him off. I grab the rod, fumbling a bit and almost dropping it but Chris saves it before the fish can pull it under.

I flinch a bit, expecting him to yell about almost losing his rod but he just hands it to me with an encouraging smile. “Okay, babe. Pull it up to ‘bout 45 degrees. Okay reel down and then pull up. Keep doing it just like that.”

I do exactly what he says, watching the fish skip across the waves until he is squirming the air in front of us. I let out an excited yelp as Chris unhooks it and holds it up. “Damn, Scotch. This is a big sumofabitch for your first catch. You wanna take a picture?"

My excitement dwells a bit as I stare down at its beady little eyes and Chris laughs before he tosses it back. I lean over the boat, unsure why the tiny accomplishment is making me feel so emotional.

Giving him a huge grin, I turn to wrap my arms around Chris, still bouncing slightly with excitement. “I really caught one all by myself.” Any other time, I’d be embarrassed at how young I sound but right now I don’t care at all.

Chris returns my hug, laughing into my hair as we sway back and forth with the waves. I pull away slightly, staring up at him and admiring his icy blue eyes in the low moonlight. And before I can talk myself out of it, I lean up, pressing my lips to his in a fraction of a kiss. He looks stunned but leans back in, chasing my lips but letting me lead. I keep it chaste, wanting to know he wants this as much as me before I go any further.

He pulls back first, eyes scanning my face for any sense of discomfort, only finding my begging eyes. “I really like hanging around you, you know that right?”

I smile, relief washing over me when I come to the conclusion I didn’t make a complete fool of myself. “Yeah? Do I make the job of scooping up horse shit that much better?”

His hands lift to the sides of my face, practically covering my whole cheek with his palms. “So much better.” He leans back in, this time guiding the kiss, leaving me in a butterfly-filled puddle in his grasp.

Everything besides the two of us seems to dissipate around me, nothing but the warm rough feeling of his fingers on my cheek keeping me grounded.

When we finally pull away, Chris resting his forehead against mine as the lightening bugs flutter near the bay, I realize how insane I've been for ever once comparing him to Jace.

Jace couldn’t kiss like this if his entire life depended on it.

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buckysbarnes · 1 year

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“How would you like to ride home on a real cowboy? I got a six pack of cold ones on ice, and my roomie’s out all night. So you can scream my name as loud as you need to, sugar!”

PEDRO PASCAL as JACK DANIELS aka AGENT WHISKEY KINGSMAN: THE GOLDEN CIRCLE

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matrixbearer2024 · 2 months

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I heard someone simping over Pedro pascal earlier and now I'm just imagining the gang kind of chilling at the Hotel(Dear (Y/N) is dead by this point), even Vox because Reader asked him to stay- when she eventually comes out in a sexy cowboy costume like:

“Hey Vox~ How would you like to ride home on a real cowpoke?"

"Huh- (Y/N)??!??!?!!!"

"I got a six pack of cold ones on ice, and my roomie's out all night. So you can scream my name as loud as you need to, sugar!”

Vox doesn't even move from his spot, he kinda just blue screens immediately and while Reader panics- Angel kinda doubles over wheezing because it was his idea to begin with just to test his hunch- he didn't expect the infamous media rival of the radio demon to actually fucking die because the woman he was fond of decided to be a little tease.

I'm so tempted to write it as another interlude because my god Alastor wouldn't ever let Vox live it down but also we troll the Tv head like c'moooon it's funny XD

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #vox x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin vox #hazbin vox x reader #vox #hazbin hotel vox x reader #vox x you #get off my screen series #Damn bro just SIMPS #Bluescreen Galore #Vox cannot comprehend #Bro is just AGDKSJDJSJSJS #404 accurate emotional response not found #He's just GONE HAHAHAAH

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luvaurae · 6 days

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Simon “ghost” Riley x reader 🫶🏼

This is my first tumblr post, go easy on me 🙏 I’m not sure how it sounds or if I like it or not, sorry if there’s typos ‼️

You and Simon had been together for about 6 months now. Normally Simon was deployed and sent away to work for 3-4 months (depending on the job.) which wasn’t the best. You always had to sit in your little yet cozy apartment without his presence, and sometimes when you needed him most, he wasn’t there. When you were in the shower, he wasn’t standing behind you with his arms wrapped around your waist. When you were in bed, he wasn’t spooning you and keeping you warm. When you cooked dinner, you had no one to serve it to except yourself. Obviously you loved him, but it was so hard to get up for your own work in the morning without him groaning and saying things like - “..five more minutes luv’ .” Or “.. jus’ call work n tell em ya sick, please dove?”. But you knew his job was important, and it helped the both of them with rent and food shopping.

———————————

As you jangled your keys into your doorknob, trying your best to shove it in as your eyes fluttered open and shut. You had just been on a six-hour shift at work and felt as if you were going to pass out every time you moved any part of your body. Eventually you managed to open up your apartment door, shutting it and locking it behind you without even turning back. You dropped your bag to the floor next to your shoe rack before making your way into bed, taking off your coat as you do so. You awkwardly rub your eyes before hopping into bed with your work t-shirt and your panties, pulling the blanket up trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in. As soon as your head hits your pillow, you’re out cold. Snoring, not so quietly. You’re positive the whole of the building can hear it.

It was about 5:05pm.

You woke up to the sound of your door opening. It couldn’t be Simon, could it?.. he told you another week? He texted you and said specifically “captain said another week lovie, I’m sorry.” You shot up from your bed, not making a creak. You tiptoed into your closet, where a wooden bat had been lying against the wall (it was the one your dad gave you before you moved out.) you wrapped your hands around the handle as you opened your door, slowly yet carefully. Sweat building up within your palms, yet your grip on the bat extremely hard. You manage to tiptoe out of your room, the rest of your apartment still dark as you heard sounds coming from your kitchen. You gripped the bat with two hands before running into the kitchen and swinging it at the figures head, you told yourself you got a pretty good hit. Yet as the light from the refrigerator shines on the figure.. it was Simon. Of course it was.

———————————

“I’m so sorry baby. I didn’t know it was you.” I say shakily pressing a cold freezer pack wrapped in a cloth onto Simon’s head as he rested on our bed.

“Don’t be sorry dove. At least I know ya know how to protect ya self’” Simon’s says in his deep British accent, giving off a small chuckle at the end. I felt horrible, yet at the same time proud. And honestly it felt a little good to get him back for not having much time to spend with me.

“How come your back so early? And why didn’t you text me?” I say pulling away the ice pack from his head and placing it on my side table as I now tuck myself beside him in our bed.

“I dunno, and I knew i shou’ve but I didn’t want to disturb my Angel in er’ beauty sleep.” Simon gives another chuckle. God sometimes I had forgotten how beautiful he was. I smile at him as my head rested against the pillow, now just staring at him as I take in his features. For a moment I was in my own world, just thinking about how gorgeous he was.

“I missed you.” I say in a slightly tired and grumbled voice as I snap out of my trance and close my eyes.

“I missed you too, luv.” Simon gives me a soft peck on my shoulder before turning off the lamp and spooning me, sliding his arm underneath mine and pulling me close to him so that his warmth radiated me.

#call of duty #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost #simon riley x reader

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two-red-lungs · 1 year

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I Can’t Hardly Stand It

BFF!Eddie/Fem!Reader NSFW

Summary: College guys, despite your best attempts, have been leaving you high and dry and desperate in the bedroom. Now, with you back in Hawkins for winter break? Let’s just say your six-foot-something best friend is looking like a real good way to relieve some of that long-standing sexual tension.

That is, if you don’t ruin your friendship in the process.

Word Count: 5.5k

How do you ask a friend to be more than a friend? To lift a foot and place it, however tentative and skittish over the well-established boundary? To enter into a realm of unknown, unfamiliar feelings that, in all likelihood, could destroy that friendship? Crumble it to dust? How the hell does one do that, exactly?

It was a question you had been turning over and over in your head for days, hoping that contemplating it enough would bring you a sudden enlightened answer. But nope. It was still the same agonizing question. You thought it, and in your mind you saw Eddie’s eyes. Big, brown, wet and wide.

How do you ask your friend to fuck you?

When the idea first came to mind you discarded it like a deer stumbling away from a car on a highway. The thought was obscene. Way outta line. You and Eds… you went back years. Maybe a decade at this point. You and him in fifth grade, goofin’ it up out on the playground in the Indiana winter cold, play-fighting with sticks as swords. And now, him calling you once or twice a month: the connection long and expensive and only affordable if all you said was hi, how are you, that’s great, talk to you later. But NYU was your dream school. He knew that. He’d encouraged you to take the scholarship, to get the fuck out of the sleepy town that too often trapped people in little lives that went nowhere.

And you did. You did it. Packed your shit and left, moved into a freshman dorm buzzing with excitement and academia and dirty laundry. It was fun. New York was big and loud and alive and full of cute boys to meet. Oh, meet them you did. Date after date, smiling faces, clumsy, heated kisses.

That’s where the problem really was, see.

You wanted it. The big sin. La petite mort. And without fucking fail, every single skinny-legged eighteen-nineteen-twenty year old you collapsed into bed with was baaaaad. Like, painfully, stupidly, unbelievably bad. Their breath stank or they sweat too much or they popped off like bottle rockets against your bare thigh after just a minute or two of naked squirming and sloppy makeouts. And that left you alone, buzzing with a deep, red hunger. Unfulfilled, day after day. Month after month. It made you realize you needed something more. Someone you could talk to, tell what to do, share information and words with without it feeling awkward or dictatorial or rude. Someone who wasn’t, by and large, a stranger.

Your mind went to one person and now you just couldn’t fucking shake the idea. Kept seeing it in your head. Kept thinking what if.

The plane from JFK landed back in Indianapolis for winter break. Snow was high outside, brilliant diamond-white against cerulean sky, icicles trimming the roof over the pick-up zone in great crystal stalactites. Your breath was fog in the air. And, right on time, god bless him, the familiar brown-and-tan Chevy Nomad van came rolling up with tire chains that growled against the heavy ice.

Your heart jumped directly from your chest into your mouth. Eddie rolled down the passenger window.

“Lookin’ to hitchhike, hot stuff?” He was grinning ear-to-ear, brown eyes crinkling. Ever the comedian. When you muddled through the dirty snow and tugged on the locked handle a few times, that grin got bigger. “Gas, grass, or ass. Can’t let you ride for free.”

“You let me outta the cold right now, Munson, or I’ll have to resort to violence.”

“Oooh, scary. Fine. Get in here.”

He’d driven three hours out to get you, through a small snowstorm and over miles of ice, and three hours back. Not a single complaint. Not a peep. No, instead, Eddie was all sunshine smiles and wicked, warm cackles, asking about your adventures in the city and pulling animated reactions. His rings winked in the cold winter light slanting through the van’s dirty windshield, and his hair was just slightly longer (and drier) than when you’d left four months ago. But he was the same old Eddie, really. Taller than you by a million miles. Soft, broad lips with a sprinkle of new-growing mustache. Bitten fingernails, long eyelashes. A voice like tire rubber and tobacco smoke, which he reeked of.

Funny. It was easy to downplay how much you missed him when you were sequestered in the warrenous dorms at NYU. Now, with him a foot away, watching his veiny hands tap tap tap on the wheel to the rhythm of ‘Rattlehead’? There was heat in your bones. Lapping across your skin, over your cheeks when you glanced down at his narrow thighs, the way they flexed when he accelerated. You hadn’t considered the what if throughout the years of being friends with him. Now it wouldn’t leave your brain. Now that what if brought new thoughts. New need-soaked mental imagery.

Christ, you were hopeless. A single thought about Eddie’s legs flitted through your mind and it brought that roaring wall of unfulfilled heat back with a vengeance. You needed a drink, or several. Or maybe a mallet to the head.

When the Hawkins town sign blew past on the frosted asphalt road to town and Eddie offered you a beer, you leapt at the chance. Especially when he’d enthused about his uncle already booking it to his shift at the plant by now. It wasn’t until you were stomping snow off your boots on his stoop in the late afternoon sun, walking into his shared trailer and getting hit by that unequivocally Eddie smell that you realized the error of your ways. Maybe, just maybe, hanging out alone with the guy you’d been sexually fixating on for weeks in the place you imagined him in the most at night, a hand between your thighs in the dark, wasn’t a good idea.

Eddie popped the top off a heineken in the narrow kitchen and handed it to you. His fingers were icy from the winter chill, smooth against yours. You hid the way your hand jerked a bit by bringing the drink up to your mouth, not even bothering to set down your carry-on before taking a hefty pull.

“Two more months and I can buy these babies on my own. Twenty-one, here I come.” He boasted warmly. His mane of hair shimmied and shook as he fought with the cap on his own bottle: it popped off, plinking against the cabinet before escaping to the linoleum ground, and he scurried after it. You got a long lecherous view of his broad, lithely muscled back under his tight Megadeth shirt before he stood up again, blowing hair away from his mouth. “Won’t even need to use the shitty fake ID ol’ Ricky had made for me.”

“It is pretty crappy.” You agreed. Your mouth was dry. God, you two were so alone right now.

“Yeah. I’m, like, genuinely surprised nobody’s called me on it yet.”

“Is Charles still manning the gas station? That guy’s ancient. He probably doesn’t have the energy to call the cops on you when you’re buying a six-pack.”

Eddie snickered and fuck, it was like liquid sunlight, all soft and good. Another thing you hadn’t realized you’d missed, its effects diminished over the phone. “That’s totally it. Hadn’t even crossed my mind.” He leaned on the counter and sipped his beer, looking down at you and tilting his head to the side. His hair followed like water. “Damn. I kinda missed you, Agatha Christie.”

You swallowed, hard. It was difficult to be under his gaze, now. Knowing the fantasies you’d had. Those brown eyes dredged up every sweaty, slick-fingered moment of imagination between your sheets. “You expect me to be surprised by that?” You replied with a plastered-on smile. “The six-hour commute and free beer kind of gave it away.”

He thunked a hand against his chest. “Foiled again. You see right through me. C’mon.” His beer bottle clinked on the fridge as he passed you, swaggering to him room like he was king of the world. “I got a new strain shipment and a ‘lil freebee along with it. You’re gonna dig it, for sure.” He turned around in his bedroom doorway with dramatic fury, a hand clutching each side. “Two words: Purple haze.”

“Lead the way, king ditchweed.”

“It’s not ditchweed!”

It wasn’t ditchweed. It was, in fact, a nice, smooth smoke. That’s what you elected to focus on, passing the blunt between you and Eddie on his bed, the window cracked just enough to circulate the air but not enough to turn his cramped, messy room into a freezer.

He was leaned up against the headboard, all relaxed, that smile-crinkle under his eyes near-permanent. Eddie took the blunt from you and took a hit, exhaling through his nose: vapors curled up the sides of it and into his curtain of dark hair.

You remembered your fantasy from a week ago, about the ball of that thick nose pressed hard against your clit while his broad, flat tongue punched deep into your— you cleared your throat and shifted around, working sensation back into your buzzing cross-faded limbs.

Well, the sun's gone down, and you're uptown. And you're just out runnin' around: I can't hardly stand it, you're troublin' me! Lux Interior was whining, Elvis-esque, on the record lazily spinning on Eddie’s player. “Okay.” You conceded. “This is good.”

“The song, or the weed?” He brought up a sock-clad foot to deflect your attempt at hitting him, laughing. “What? New York mighta changed your taste in music. Mighta made you forget how good the Cramps were, and shit.”

“You know I was talking about the weed, dummy.” Soft, sentimental affection in your voice was as unmistakable as anything. You just couldn’t help it. Eddie smiled, pressing his lips together and looking away: your eyes drifted to the tendons in his long neck. Beautiful. You wondered how they’d feel under your tongue.

“So. Tell me about the city boys.” He said after a few moments of comfortable silence. When you groaned and put your face in your hands he chortled. “Seriously! Are they cool? Do they do slam poetry? I bet they’ve got you just hooked, huh. Ridin’ the subway and shit.”

“We don’t have to talk about boys, Eds. I can’t imagine that’s entertaining for you.”

The metalhead shrugged and took another drag. “Can you blame me for wanting to keep tabs on your bodice-ripping paperback escapades?” He cupped his face, mimicking a cherub. “That’s just how good of a friend I am.”

“Alright, alright! You ham.” You turned that what if over again in your mind. “It’s been. Weird. I’ve met a lot of guys, sure, but. I dunno. They’re not… great?”

“Define not-great. Do I need to kick someone’s ass?”

“How honest do you want me to be?”

“Uhh, mega-honest. Obviously.”

“Eddie, they’re shit in bed.”

Eddie exploded into a cacophony of coughs, thumping his chest and bending away from the headboard. Only when he was done, eyes watering, did he speak, giving a disbelieving shake of his head. “Wow, that was… honest.”

“Hey, you asked.” The ragged hem of your comfy travel shirt was looking really interesting right now. You chose to focus on it. “I’ve, uh. Been with a couple guys, now, and each time, they’re just…” You sucked on your teeth, trying to phrase it tactfully. “Selfish. Like I’m not even there. Like they don’t care at all about me. And I’m half the fucking equation in that— that goddamn horizontal tango, you know?”

“That sounds pretty frustrating.” Eddie, for once in his life, sounded serious. His voice was soft, like he cared.

“Trust me, it is. I thought about calling it quits a couple of times, y’know? But I’m human! I got… wants. And needs, and stuff.” The silence after your words was deafening, and the record switched softly-playing tracks. The what if came back. And fuck it, you were a little high and a little tipsy and hey, if bringing this up ruined everything, you’d be on a plane to New York in a few days anyway. “You know how you used to, like… joke? When we were high? That it was just you and me, whining about being lonely, and we should just.” You struggled. “Help each other out. Let off steam.”

Eddie stared. And stared. His eyebrows lifted. For a moment you were worried he would be frozen for eternity. “Uh. Okay. I, hah.” A laugh of disbelief jumped out. He pinched his nose and shook his head. “Okay, uh. If I’m, uhh… misinterpreting this, feel free to, like, punch me. Just… full force. You, uh…” God, how many interjections could this man use? “You wanna. Have sex with me?”

“It’s so weird, I know.” Your words were a blurting, flushed, panicked tumble. You hadn’t really registered it until he said it out loud. “It’s so totally weird, and I shouldn’t have said anything, seriously, just forget it—”

“No, no.” He wetted his lips nervously, that pink tongue darting out. Eddie’s eyes were wide. “No, uh. It’s— I get it. We all, like. Get a little backed up sometimes, right? Nothing to be ashamed of.”

“God, you did not just say backed up—”

“You know what I mean!” He ran a hand down his pink-flushed face, hunched forward and cross-legged, close enough to touch. Close enough to feel his body heat. “Jesus. Jesus shitfuck.”

“Eds, let’s just pretend I didn’t say—”

“We could. We could do it.” He interjected. That tongue between his lips again, trapped, a little slice of wet, shining pink. “Um. I, uh. If it’s something you wanted to do.”

Your stupid betrayer heart was drumming double time, making your palms clammy and face red. “You don’t have to say yes because of me.”

“Hey. You’re a chick, and I’m a dude, and that’s like, basic biology 101 so… I wanna.” His gaze, skittish, like he was a timid fawn, met yours for a second and it was like steel against flintstone. It sent a zing up your spine. “It’d just be like… helpin’ each other out, and shit, right?”

“Yeah.” God, your mouth was dry. You hadn’t felt like this, shaking like a virgin, since you were sixteen. You’d laid yourself emotionally bare in front of him. Told him you needed to be touched. Loved. And he’d said yes. “Just helping.”

A beat of silence. Then another. Then another. Eddie leaned forward and then you were kissing.

It was a wet, searing thing. Like a current of electricity was passing between you, hot and bright and so, so unlike anything you’d felt at fucking NYU. He grunted against your mouth, leaning forward into you. Then there was a hand on your knee and god, fuck, fuck your life, that wasn’t supposed to feel good. That wasn’t supposed to feel like your skin was lighting up gold under his palm, and yet here you were. Illuminated by his touch like a celibate.

“You gotta,” Eddie spoke in breaths, crowding you against the thin wall of the trailer, heat bleeding from his chest through his shirt, “tell me what you need, ‘kay? Promise?”

“More.” You replied immediately. You grabbed at him on instinct, getting a fistful of his shirt, tugging it up, up over his head: he moved with you immediately, pulling it off like it offended him, and oh. His nipples were dusky-dark pink, his pectorals small hills. The skullish demon head over his heart was staring you down.

Eddie pressed a sloppy kiss with searing lips to your upper cheek, eyes centimeters from yours. Looking at you all gentle and needy. “Can I take your shirt off? Please, I wanna—” He swallowed and his adam’s apple bobbed. “Wanna see you.”

“Yeah.” Your voice trembled like an autumn leaf. “You can see me, Eds.”

His hands were so broad and firm. They rolled your shirt up over your head: Eddie hissed through his teeth. “God, fuck. Fuck me, man. Look at you.” That dark brown gaze was locked on your tits, the way your bra cupped them together. “Those New Yorkers have no idea what they’re missing, man.”

“Eddie.” You said softly. His gaze snapped back up to you, framed by dark curls of hair. “Touch me.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I can, uh. I can do that.” His lips parted as he touched you, hot palms traveling up your ribs, over your shoulders. He dipped his head, planting kiss to your collarbones: it was like you’d been shot, a slow, scalding heat spreading from that point. Eddie held one of your hips and slowly, ever so slowly, eased you onto your back. You knew he could see your jackrabbit heart racing in the veins on your neck, see the way your shallow breaths were so fucking fast.

When you pawed between you two, sticking an arm against his burning-hot stomach to fumble with the fly of his jeans, he made a choked noise and grabbed your wrist. Eddie was breathing heavily against your face, holding himself over you with one arm braced by your head. “Wait, wait.” He took a deep breath. Hairs tickled your face. “Uh, just. Just wait.”

“I wanna touch to you too, Eds.”

He looked like the words falling from your lips were as good as head. “Jesus— not yet. Not— I don’t wanna end this too fast, and if you keep, haah—” another expletive when you pressed fingers blindly to his fly, down against his dick, “— doing that, that’s where we’re gonna end up.”

With a hum of frustration at being denied, you tilted your chin up in a demand for another kiss: he conceded without a fight, saliva-slick lips heady and addictive. You felt like you could kiss him forever, like this: the curtains drawn, early dusk darkening the room, his skin against yours sending frissons from your head to your toes. You pawed like an animal. Fingers clutching his back, feeling his shoulder blades move under his skin, his ribs expand and contract.

When you brought a thigh out, knee bending to hook a leg around his narrow hips, he seemed to make up his mind. “Fuck, okay.” He broke the kiss again. “D’ya think— can I take your pants off?”

“Yeah. Yeah, god, Eddie, please.”

Like it was a goddamn race Eddie had your buttons undone and you were helping him shuffle your pants down and throwing them to the floor. He made another noise in the back of his throat and rested himself at your side, up on one elbow. Eddie put a hand on your sternum and slowly, agonizingly slowly, dragged it down. His face turned up to you every once in a while: checking in. Making sure you were still here with him. His fingers caught on the hem of your underwear for a second and you sucked in a breath, but he kept going.

Feather-light pads landed on the lips of your pussy over your underwear. So light you could barely feel it. They traced up and down in slow, careful circles. Eddie looked almost hypnotized by the fact that he was even touching you: he watched his own hand like it was a magic show.

“Tease.” You huffed out, bucking up slightly against his fingers.

That crooked smile returned. “Nah.” He looked at you with affection. “Just tryin’ to make it good.” Those finger pads went up, up, up. Eddie tracked your expression, lips parting gently when your eyes bulged because oh, yep, that was your clit he’d caught for a second. He focused in on that little stiffening nub, snug under damp fabric, and the muscles in your stomach curled. “Ohhh, fuck. You like that, huh? Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You barely eked it out. “Feels nice.”

“Bet nobody gave her any attention at your college, huh?” His words hit you like thunderbolts, and you swore you felt yourself clench around nothing. Eddie’s tongue was trapped between his teeth again. He thumbed your clit round and round in circles.

“Eds.” Your voice was a warning, desperate though it was. “More, c’mon.”

“Tell me what you need.” Maybe with someone else the words would have come out commanding, domineering. But Eddie was looking down at you with those big wet eyes like you’d hung the moon, like he’d do anything to please you, lips parted all rosebud-soft.

“Get inside me. Please. Just— your fingers, put them in, please.”

Still laid out long beside you, his fingers crept underneath the hem of your underwear, rasping against your trimmed bush as he slowly pulled the fabric down, down, down, till it pooled around your knees. “Fuck.” He said again, intelligently. “Fuck. Fuck. Can’t believe you’re letting me do this.” A finger ran down the parting line of your folds as he spoke and you jerked like a woman possessed. “Can’t believe you’re letting me touch you, god.”

His finger hooked at your soft, sopping, willing entrance. “Wait.” You blurted. His veiny hand froze. “Two. Two, uh, fingers, Eds.”

“Okay, yeah. Okay.” His voice shook. And then those long, calloused, beautiful fucking fingers were delving into your flesh, just thick enough for a little stretch, a little delicious addictive burn: if you weren’t so hyper turned-on by the sight you’d be embarrassed about how absolutely sopping you were.

Your walls fluttered around his fingers and he looked like he’d died and gone to heaven. “So warm.” Was all he got out unevenly. There was no warning before he was slowly and rhythmically fucking you with his fingers, the slick squelch loud as thunder. The sight of his broad hand disappearing between your gently parted thighs was... addictive. You held his forearm tight as he fingered you, your grip moving with each slow thrust.

This was fantasy. This was perfect fucking gratification. Sweating nearly-naked on his messy duvet, surrounded by his quintessential smell, Eddie inches away from you all laid out with a tent in his jeans so hard it looked like it hurt. This was just like your daydreams. Better, even.

You let your head fall to the side, where he was laid out all long next to you. It rested against his chest. You could feel the hum of his hummingbird heart behind the flesh and bone. “Eddie...” the word was a breathy sigh, but it earned him dropping his head over yours, pressing a wild, wet kiss to the crown of your head, leaving his mouth there. He groaned into your hair when you squirmed, thighs shifting, clenching around his fingers.

“Shit— sorry, hold on, thing is fuckin— killin’ me, hurts so bad.” He muttered hoarsely, pulling fingers from your heat to fumble with his fly. His digits were too slick to get a grip on the zipper and oh man if that didn’t do something for you. You reached across your stomach without a second thought and pulled it open, and hello.

Eddie was so hard it looked like it ached. The head of this fat cock peeked out from the top of his briefs, so red it was nearly purple. It was shiny, smeared with drooling precum that slicked up the turtleneck skin around it.

You thumbed the shaft over the fabric. Eddie sounded like he’d been socked in the gut. “Ohhhhkay.” He wheezed out. You crept upwards, dragging down his underwear and popping his bobbing cock out. It twitched, kissing his hair-dusted abdomen for a moment. God. You’d never wanted anything in your mouth so badly. You bet he tasted good: like salt and skin and Eddie.

The noises he made when you cupped him, running a loose grip up and down his shaft in lazy pumps, should have been illegal. They made the soft, wanton and slick heat between your legs feel like a bonfire, like an ancient calling demanding you do what humans had been doing for centuries before you.

You wanted to swallow him to the base. Wanted to stay there for eternity, feeling him throb under your fingers and feeling his fingers in you. But poor Eds was on a timer. And you wanted as much as you could get.

“Eds...” You trailed off, looking at him, how he held himself coiled-up tight while you touched his dick, like he was focusing so hard on not cumming. His wide eyes glittered in the low light. You kissed him again: quick and messy. “Can we...”

“Yeah.” His reply came out as a squeak and he cleared his throat. “Yeah. Please.”

“We need a condom.”

“Right.”

He was off the bed like a shot, shaking the mattress, flinging open bedside table drawers like a mob croney coming to collect debt money. He rifled through their contents with extreme (almost desperate) prejudice. The prize was found: a shiny gold-foil-wrapped Trojan. Seeing him stand at the foot of the bed, framed between your knees in front of you, dick twitching in the air and foil between his teeth? That was a sight that was going to be burned into your mind for the rest of your life.

Eddie tore open the condom with his teeth and spat out the corner. He fumbled to roll it on with shaking hands. “Shit.” He hissed, the condom springing off several times. It was like someone had set him to vibrate.

Your hand closed over his bigger one. Slowly, together, you got the condom on: shiny and off-white on his cock.

He was still huffing like a racehorse. You couldn’t blame him: your body was alight, all active like you’d run a marathon. You didn’t know what it was: it was never like this with other guys. Little touches didn’t set you on fire. Gentle, caring fingers didn’t make you gush.

With Eddie’s help you laid flat onto your back once more and eased your hips to the edge of the mattress. He stood between them, thighs pressed against mattress cover. His hands were warm on your thighs: kneading them, drifting up and down a few times while he looked down at you, his chest patchy with blush.

“You sure?” He asked. There was anxiety in his voice. This wasn’t just being handsy. This was all the way.

“Yeah. ‘M sure.” When he let his cock rest on your pelvis, hefty and scalding, you swallowed hard. “It’s you, Eds. I trust you.”

Eddie bit down on his lower lip, hard, and lined himself up with you. It was only when the head of his cock nudged your slick entrance and your pussy clenched rhythmically in reply, in excited hopefulness, that you realized how true that statement was.

That’s why this was taking you apart. Not because it was sex. Or good sex. Because it was Eddie.

He pushed into you slow with a hand clamped down on each thigh and it was like seeing god. The breach was fat and full, heat on heat, no resistance. You both made noises. He fit you like a goddamn glove.

Eddie swore, over and over, when he got up to the hilt. His eyes clenched shut, face screwed up, steeling himself against the overwhelming pleasure. And for you, that was agony.

“Eds, c’mon, please, please move.” You weren’t above begging.

“Fuuuuuck me, man.” He groaned out all high and breathless, and then he was clenching his teeth and snapping forward, hips bumping against you so hard it made the fucking bed sway. He fucked you like he was trying to keep you, like he was trying to make this the best you’d ever had: he even canted his hips up, hunting for that spot inside you that he’d read made girls go mad.

“So good, so wet, god, so good,” Eddie rambled like a lunatic, a drop of drool falling free from his red lips. “So fucking warm, huh, aren’t you? Yeah you are. So nice and warm, warm on my dick, fuck, love how fucking soaked you are.”

You were in heaven. No, somewhere better. Somewhere where sex wasn’t a sin and you were getting your guts rearranged by your best friend, the guy who knew you the best, who saw you, the real you. “Eddieeeee.” You almost couldn’t get it out, breath punched out of you so deliciously with each thrust. “My clit, Eds, touch it.”

He brought a hand to it instantly, fingers sliding through the wet where his cock spread you open and dragging it up in rough, wild circles around your clit. You could see all his dark-eyed focus was on you: fucking you, filling you, giving it to you exactly how you had needed it for so long. Taking care of you.

Fuck, that thought was gonna make you cum.

“More, please,” You begged, “so close, Eds, so—”

“God, fuck me man, you— you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to see you cum, oh my god.” Eddie spoke like he couldn’t stop himself, all disjointed and panting over the pornographic slap of his balls on your ass. “Wanted to see it for so long, please, please, lemme see it, lemme see you—”

His begging, his disclosure, his desperation— you went careening off the edge into the abyss while he rubbed frantically at your clit, and you swore your eyes rolled up into the back of your skull.

There it was. The thing you’d been craving, bone-deep, for months.

The perfect orgasm.

Drifting back to earth, you had a body made of melted butter. A body made of summer sun and amber. Pure contentment radiated through every single immaculate cell.

Eddie was still fucking you. Short, uneven thrusts, sweat beads rolling down his chest, long, wild hair sticking to his face. His brows were down in focus, lost in sensation. You lifted two shaking legs and wrapped them around his waist, locking him into your snug cunt. He looked up at you in hazy, pleasure-drunk shock, and then you squeezed down on him as hard as you could.

“Fuck!” Was all he barked out, and then he was doubling over, staggering forward against your hips, pelvis stuttering. Gripping your thighs like lifelines. He thrust once, twice, three times more, and then Eddie— your exhausted, beanstalk-tall, wild-child Eddie— collapsed on top of you, heavy as all hell. The crown of his head was right under your nose, and you could feel his ribs against yours.

He couldn’t see you right now. You let yourself smile fondly, satedly, into his hair.

Together you breathed raggedly, radiating body heat. The clock in the kitchen, past the ajar door, continued to tick. The silence was no longer charged: it was honest, relaxed. Fulfilled.

“You’re so heavy.” You said eventually.

“Thanks. I’ve been working out.” Eddie’s voice was muffled in your tits. After a time, though, he raised his head. Propped himself up a bit on his elbows over you. Spat hair out of his mouth. “So, uh.” His lips opened and closed like a fish, awkward and unsure. “Was that, um. Good for you, or...?”

“Of course it was good, Eddie. Obviously! Don’t ask stupid questions.” You replied with mock seriousness: an age-old bit you’d always done with him. A sign that hey, no camaraderie lost, right?

He played along, looking mock wounded. “Well, I didn’t want to assume. It’s not like it went on for an hour, or ended with a squirt, or—”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” You laughed. He was staring at you in that fond way again. The guitar pick on his necklace tickled your clavicle. “I mean... we have the rest of the night, right?”

He looked stunned. He blinked a few times. “I mean— yeah, like, if that’s something you want to—”

“I want to.”

Another blink. The tongue made its reappearance. “Okay. We can... okay. Yeah.” The slow grin began its climb onto his broad face. “We can totally do that. All-nighter.”

“Don’t get cocky.”

The Munson landline was a little ragged, but it worked. “Yeah, mom, I can’t wait to see you too.” You said into the phone tucked between your ear and bare shoulder as you leaned against the kitchenette counter, hand in a bag of chips. You watched Eddie fight a box of waffles for their delicious cargo and pop four into the toaster. “The snow’s just real bad right now. You know how it is. I’ll get in tomorrow, I swear.”

Eddie slowly shook his head, hands on his hips, hitting the disapproving church-mom pose. He mouthed for shame and wagged a finger. You threw a chip at him. It plunked ineffectually off his bare chest.

“Love your too, mom. Yeah, I’ll sleep warmly tonight. Bye.”

“Oh, you’ll be sleepin’ warm, alright.”

“I knew you were gonna say that!”

“How could you possibly know what I was gonna say?”

The two of you returned to amicability, trading jabs and scoffs and sparkling smiles: but in your mind, somewhere in the far back, you held on to what he’d divulged in the heat and fervor of the moment. That he’d wanted to see you cum. Wanted to see it for ages.

He’d thought about you. Like you’d thought about him. You tucked that away for later. Now, though? Now you were laughing your ass off while Eddie juggled burning-hot waffles with his bare hands before dumping them onto a plate and flapping his singed palms about like a bird.

So. How do you ask your friend to fuck you? Turns out, sometimes, you just ask.

#eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #my writing #if this has typos. no it doesnt. its simply so so late and i am so so sleeby

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the-fiction-witch · 6 months

Text

Feelings

Media The Queens Gambit

Character Benny Watts

Couple Benny X Reader

Rating Sweet + SMut

Requested:

Hey fiction witch, if u can see this I have a request, in the show Beth leaves New York and goes back to her house and when Beth and Benny r on the phone Benny gets upset and tells Beth to not call him, after that happens can u plz make y/n find out that Beth hurt Benny and y/n being her sweet and empathetic self, goes to comfort Benny in his house and yk wtv happens next 🤭 if u can make that story asap that would be amazing thank u 🙏

I shifted my hips from side to side humming along with the tune coming from my record player speaker, My hands in the hot water washing up the dishes and pots from dinner. I jumped as I heard my phone begin its blaring. So I left the last pot to soak trying off my hands on my apron as I scampered my shoes across the floor of my little townhouse I quickly turned down the volume on my record player as I passed the shelf, I lost my footing a little on the rug's stupid curled corner and went tumbling onto my sofa on my back, luckily just beside my phone table so I picked up the red rotary phone from the table bringing it to my ear.

"Y/l/n Residence." I smiled

"Hi y/n" Beth smiled

"Ohh, My my to what do I owe the pleasure, Miss Harmon?"

"Oh you know, nothing unusual. How's queens?"

"Boring. But finally unpacked my last few boxes so shaping up nicely. How's kentuky?"

"Much the same" she smiled "So, I had a question."

"ahh there is the point of your call, of course, ask away"

"You've been to Moscow correct?"

"Yes, I have. I assume there is a follow-up question."

"Yeah, I'm doing a bit of packing. I know everyone says Moscow is cold but... exactly how cold?"

"When they say cold they mean cold beth. It's freezing in Moscow. The snow came up to my knees. I was so cold I ripped stuffing out of the hotel pillow to shove in my bra because I was convinced my nipples would freeze off. and that's coming from a New York girl" I laughed "Pack for ice. Pack for snow. Pack for seeing your breath inside buildings."

"Really?"

"If you're too hot you can always take layers off," I explained

"Fair enough,"

"That all?"

"I had something else to ask too"

"Sure, fire away."

"Did you... Like to fuck Benny?"

"That's a bold question for six pm"

"But did you, when you two were... together?"

I laughed "My darling Elizabeth. Me and Benny never have been... together. Not officially anyway."

"But when you did. Did you like to?"

"Sometimes."

"Sometimes?"

"You can say every time you've had sex you liked it? sometimes stuff's just shit"

"But other than those times"

"I did. Course I did. Benny... is a complicated man"

"How so?"

"Because he's Benny" I laugh "He's weird, he thinks fifteen steps ahead at any one moment, he's passionate and dedicated with an ego big enough to fly himself to Moscow and back, but he's also... you know a man. so he's blunt and simple, and can't see a hint five inches in front of his face." I explained, "Why?"

"I think. it might be over."

"Over? Did it ever begin?"

"I mean... kinda. sort of. It's complicated."

"Beth. What happened?"

"So you know how Benny's been bugging me to come to New York"

"Yes. Because he misses you. That's his way of saying that."

"Yeah he even told me"

"He told you he missed you?"

"Yes"

"And you did what?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing!"

"Yeah I mean we called a little more but not much else. and I kinda... pissed him off"

"What did you do?"

"I gave the church the money back. I tried to ask him for money. if he wants to come he can help me pay for it right? he flipped out and told me not to call him again. That was... two days ago and he won't answer the phone. Guess I'm just kinda..."

"You're serious?" I sighed

"Yeah."

"Okay... I have not got time to deal with you" I sighed sitting up normally "All I'm gonna say is you've fucked up Beth. And I am going to clean this up, not because I want to help you. But because I care too much about Benny. I will call you later and we will have a chat" I told her before hanging up the phone

"Fuck..." I sighed "Harmon, you do make my life difficult" I grabbed the phone again and dialled the number for the Brooklyn basement listening to it ring but no answer, I tried again but still no answer, I gave it one more try but still no answer.

I gave up setting the phone back on the receiver and I got to my feet untieing my apron throwing it on the kitchen table grabbing my handbag making sure to grab my spare key. changing my shoes and slipping on my gloves before rushing out locking up my front door as I scampered down the steps of the stoop I unlocked the door on my little red mini threw my bag on the passenger seat quickly started the car up and scampered through the New York streets using all the little cut thoughts I knew to travel the six miles from my townhouse in queens to the basement in Brooklyn. I pulled my mini up behind the little blue Beatle parked and grabbed my bag climbing out of the car and heading down the little foul-smelling stairwells until I finally reached the metal door giving it a firm few taps. No answer came. but I could hear noises from within. I knocked much louder but still no answer came.

I rolled my eyes grabbed the spare key from my handbag forced it into the lock and opened the door shutting it behind me immediately I could tell things weren't good.

This apartment was dark, gloomy and damp as usual, bottles littered his table enough you could use them as pieces in a chess game, and things haphazardly moved around the apartment. And Benny amongst it all. Barefoot. Black jeans tight to his body, his belt gone, his black turtleneck on with his sleeves rolled up, frustration across his face, a beer in hand that he finished and there across his apartment smashing it on the wall.

“Benny?”

He ran a hand through his hair and glanced up at me “Hey y/n.”

“How are you feeling?”

“I'm fine” he snapped grabbing a cigarette from his table setting it in his mouth and lighting it up with his old Zippo

“Benny.” I glared

“I'm fine.” He snapped

“Beth called me.”

“Did she now? You come down to tell me I'm an asshole”

“I don't make judgements till I hear both sides” I answered “So, tell me what happened.”

“So it fucking -”

“Calmly.”

“It's over. I'm done with her. I have put up with so much shit from her. She treats me like a doormat, and only calls me when she needs something. Well she can go fuck herself” he says pacing around his apartment

“Okay, what exactly happened?”

“She gave the money back. Asked me to pay for us. She ignored everything I told her. All because she didn't want to sign some worthless bit of paper. Now I can't go to Moscow with her. Fine, she clearly didn't want me with her anyway.”

“Alright, and you told her?”

“I told her not to call me again. She wants to do this on her own fine. She can. She won't hear a word from me, but she can fuck off if she wants anything.”

“You've been ignoring calls?”

“I didn't exactly feel like talking right now”

“Alright, go get changed and I'll make you some tea”

“I don't -”

“Benny. Don't make me bonk you with a spoon”

“Fine I will get changed” he sighed going to his room “and make coffee.”

“No tea. Coffee will keep you up and you do not need more energy right now” I explained going and making some nice tea one for me and one for Benny taking and sitting them both on the small table in the centre of the living space, as well as a glass of water I took a small dustpan and brush from the cabinet and cleaned up the broken glass from the bottle as well as any other little mess that littered the apartment. I went to the small record player beside the chair and for a moment flipped through his small collection grabbing a nice album of some gentle swing music adding it to the player letting it spin and turning it down to almost nothing, and I took a seat on the pile of pillows he used as a sofa. Soon enough he returned with a fresh set of clothes, some new jeans, a black T-shirt and his green button-down

“There you feel a little better now?”

“It is nice to have some fresh clothes on” he grunted back

“Come on” I offered patting the pillow beside me

“I'm not in the mood y/n”

“Benny. Come here.”

He rolled his eyes but came and sat beside me still as angry and frustrated as before leaning his head against the exposed bricks

“Good, now when did you last drink something?”

“I'm not thirsty”

“Did I ask that?”

“No”

“When did you last drink something? You're only going to give yourself a headache” I told him, offering him the water but he turned away “Hydrate. Or I will hit you with a spoon”

He took the glass and had a sizable sip

“Thank you, now come here and talk it out”

“Y/n I know you mean well but I’m-”

“I will get the spoon in a minute.” I warn “Come” I demanded patting my thigh

He rolled his eyes but leant over so I wrapped my arms around him letting him lay his head in my lap “I don't see how this is going to help”

“You need to acknowledge and work through your feelings”

“I don't have feelings. I'm a man.”

“Ohh no you don't have feelings. That's why you've been spending your days in a dark basement drinking like a fish and frustrated smoking. No feelings at all” I smiled gently petting his soft fluffy hair

“I don't need to work through my feelings.”

“Yes, you do. Otherwise, you're just going to be angry forever. And god knows I can't deal with that” I laughed

“Fine” he sighed

“Take a moment just to clear the brain” I smiled playing with his hair in all the usual spots he liked me too

“My brain doesn’t clear.”

“Then hyperfocus. On the ticking of the clock, the nice gentle music, clear the mind of all other things and just exist for a moment”

We sat for a few moments just enjoying the quiet of his basement, the gentle hum of the music and the rhythm of our breaths

“Okay” He nods sounding far calmer than before

“That help?”

“A little”

“Okay do a Big breath in.”

“Why do I-”

“Benny” I warned so he did as I asked “Big breath in. And back out. Another one in… and another out. Okay? Feel a little better?” I smiled walking him through it a few times

“A bit”

“Are you calmer?”

“Somewhat”

“So, tell me what happened”

“You going to tell me when I’m wrong?”

“No. I'm not going to say anything you just explain and I will listen.”

“I try asking her for months to come up to New York, actually spend some time together, no she's busy she needs to do this, she needs to do that, she ghosts me for six months, okay I try asking to go to Paris with her support her with the tournament, no she's going on her own, she can't afford to take me too, so fine she goes on her own only when she's fucked herself up so bad she looses her tournament and has headlines everywhere she was drunk as a sailor then! I got a call. I try to be supportive and offer to pick her up from the airport. No, she wants to be alone. I try to talk her through everything and offer her a safe space, so we can be together and work stuff out, no she wants to be alone. She wants to drink. Fine, I try! I try and say she can drink so long as she came here no she wants to go and get drunk. She goes home to Kentucky and ghosts me again. She calls me finally because she wants my advice and again I try to get her to come here, I try and be nice hell I told her I fucking missed her nope she wants to stay on her own meaning she wants to fucking drink. And again I'm ghosted. She completely ignores what I tell her to do. She gives the church their money and calls me up like I'm the problem! Like I haven't spent the last year waiting for your phone calls like some abandoned puppy! Says she's paying her own way to Moscow and can't afford to take me with her, if I wanna come I need to pay, when she knows full well I don't have two thousand dollars laying around to jet off to Moscow. Accused me of gambling it all away. So fuck it. Fuck her. She wants to go and her drunk and fuck her life up that's her decision she's not taking me down with her. I'm not staying as her fucking doormat fuck to treat her how she wants. If she'd rather get drunk than be with me fine I hope she and her bottle are happy”

“How did that make you feel?”

“Like shit.”

“Benny, feelings are not shit. use your words. Not just your swears.”

“Like… why should I bother you know? Like I'm trying so so much and you're giving absolutely nothing back. And that makes me feel like I'm the asshole for wanting anything”

“You're not an asshole for wanting acknowledgement Benny. You've done a lot for Beth and it's not easy for you to be emotionally numerable”

“Exactly! It's like you bare your fucking soul to someone and their response is okay cool. What else? Like I don't know what more you want from me. Am I being a dick? Asking for too much or something?”

“I don't think so, I do think you also need to respect Beth is also not an emotional person. The two of you aren't going to have a great emotional conversation because neither of you are good emotional communicators and that's fine some people aren't, but it would seem you are putting a lot of effort in, now Beth may not see it as a lot of effort in her mind and may not be seeing how much effort that Is for you and not appreciate it as much or it could be that she just expects more. and if you can't give her that then you can't there's nothing wrong with that Benny”

“Do you think I'm an emotionally distant person?”

“You can be. You're… very practical Benny. You're emotional to the extent of practically, when emotions aren't useful you don't bother to express them. But I do think you not in the wrong here you've made a lot of moves to be more outwardly expressive and it was clear you were upset long before this” I explained “I think, and of course, you don't need to take my advice. But I think you and Beth need time apart I think you both need to not see one another, not speak to one another, for a couple of weeks I think you both need to separately decide the kind of relationship you want together. If you want to have the kind of relationship where you call every other day and talk or if you want a relationship where you talk every six months how much emotional investment you each have needs to be equal and it clearly isn't so I think spend time apart to think and when she gets back from Moscow you two need to talk and see where you go from here.”

“... Your right.” He sighed sitting up “Where did you learn all this stuff anyway?” He asks having some tea

“Therapy. You know that thing I keep telling you to go to”

“I don't need therapy”

“Everyone needs therapy, Benny.”

“I don’t”

“Yes, you do.” I told him “You have a lot of untapped emotional issues rattling around in that big head of yours” I told him having some tea “And I’m boarder line convinced you have… some type of-”

“No I don’t” he snapped

“Benny you hyperfocus on chess, don’t understand your own emotions, freak out when someone tries to touch your skin, and use your rings like fidget toys… and you don’t think there might be a possibility you could have some form of -”

“No.”

“Fine, fine. I’m not going to argue with you” I giggled “You should go to therapy though Benny.”

“Ohh what because I have ‘emotional trauma’?”

“Yes. you do.” I told him “Even if it's just having someone to talk to, to rant about your problems”

“That's why I have you”

“I'm not your therapist Benny”

“Sorry”

“It's fine” I smiled pressing a kiss to the top of his head “You really liked her didn't you?”

“I did. I kinda thought we were the same. Maybe we're too much alike”

“Do you think maybe… you're seeing the bad things in Beth that you see in yourself?”

“Kinda. I think it's … made me realize how bad it is to be on that side of it. To be the one waiting by the phone on the promise of a call that never comes. I think I'm .. trying though. I can see how bad it is and in trying to fix it but just feels like bailing a bucket out a lake”

“Well, baby steps. Just the fact you see it and are making steps is still better. You're never going to bail the lake if you don't start with a bucket”

“I guess so. It makes me wonder… how she sees me. I know officially we didn't label anything but, I kinda think she just saw me as a chessboard that could make her cum”

“What did you want her to be?”

“....I don't know. Guess I wanted someone to call. Someone to spend time with. Someone who wants to talk to me. Listens to me. Makes me feel like what I say makes a difference. Like I Matter to them. Someone who gets excited about spending time with me, who wants to be with me not because we might play chess or we might have sex but just because we like being together”

“You ever tell her that?”

“No.”

“Then … you can't expect her to give you that Benny. She's not a mind reader. She doesn't know that's what you want same as you don't know what she wants. You two are both people not great at emotions be the best course is to straight forward sit her down and say that's what you want and if that's not what she wants you can either try to find a middle ground or that can be it”

“Your right. But I don't want to see her. Or talk to her. I don't completely want to think about her but there's no getting out of that” he explained lighting another cigarette “But I'm done. Unless she's willing to try I don't want anything more than to be her friend”

“If that's what you want. That's what you want” I smiled taking the cigarette from him putting it out in the table’s ashtray “You’re not smoking because you want it you smoking because your frustrated.” I laughed

“Your therapist tell you that too?”

“No. I just know you, Benny. Besides you’ve been doing really good. Don’t destroy all your progress just because you’re mad” I told him

“You rather I drink?”

“I’d rather you have healthy coping mechanisms but you know… baby steps.” I smiled “You feel a bit better? Got all that off your chest?”

“Yeah. Thanks y/n.”

“Your welcome” I smirked having some tea “It's kinda funny”

“What is?”

“That's exactly what I wanted. Back when we …”

“Really?” He asks

“Yeah. I'd have killed for you to want to spend time with me without it seeming like I was dragging you away from something you wanted to do more”

“.... Fuck. I was a dick.”

“You kinda were.” I laughed “But we wanted different things that's okay”

“I feel like shit. Maybe things would be different if I figured out this is what I wanted”

“Maybe” I shrug “But you didn’t want that then that’s fine you can change your mind as life changes, that wasn’t the sort of thing you wanted then”

“You’re a very emotional person. I think I struggled with that”

“I can be… overly emotional. In working on it. Trying not to overthink everything so much.” I said “How do you think it felt for me sitting here miles deep in overthinking as to why you weren’t talking to me, that you were mad, that I did something wrong, all the while you just sat there playing chess completely unaware I was even upset being quiet because… you like to sit quietly.”

“I saw you were upset… when it was too late. By the time I picked up on it you crying so far down an emotional rabbit hole even if I did know How to deal with it, it was kinda too late”

“And yes that is on you for not noticing my emotions but also on me for not being clearer with them, literally could have fixed all my overthinking with, Benny are you mad at me? But no I wanted to sit there pouting getting more and more anxious waiting for you to figure out that I was worried.”

“I always felt like a dick for asking you what was wrong,”

“Because I wanted you to pick up on it. I didn’t want to tell you I just wanted you to pick up and fix it. And that's on me. That was my issue and I’m getting better. Can’t expect people to know everything. But you're getting better too, learning when people are upset being more outwardly emotional if you need a little coaxing.”

“Or threatening”

“Everyone is different Benny. The sooner you realize that the easier life is. Everyone you speak to, and everyone you see is completely different we all think differently, behave differently, and have different responses to things, and no one can read minds. We all need to give each other a little more slack because we don't know what's going on in their head and they'll never know what's happening in ours. Some people can read emotions across your face like a book, some people need to be told or they'll never learn. I was an emotionally overthinking young woman craving emotional intimacy without having to ask for it. While being in a non-official relationship with a man who can't read emotions, has a hard time expressing his feelings and craves reassurance. On top of the very basic one, what's to fuck one wants to love problem. You surprised it went south?”

“I crave reassurance?”

“Benny. You're a chess player who dresses like a goth pirate.”

“Point taken”

“It's fine people grow and change neither of us are the people we were then”

“That's true” he nods “Can I get the number for your therapist?”

“Why?”

“He sounds good. The fact you rattled all that off is pretty impressive”

“Find your own therapist. Don't want conflicts of interest”

For a moment he was puzzled “You talk about me in therapy?”

“Yeah”

“God was I that much of a cunt?”

“No. You’re my friend. Our lives are very intertwined is all” I laughed leaning on his shoulder

“that’s fair” he laughed “... Do you think I ask for too much? With Beth?”

“I think… you ask for more than she's comfortable with. Let's face it Benny your fighting against an addiction. You might have an ego and you might love chess but you're not physically addicted to it”

“I just feel like in trying so hard, pushing myself so far beyond what I'd normally be comfortable with the least she can do is try”

“if that's how you feel. Then I think she should respond to that”

“I'm not a dick?”

“I don't think so” I smiled

“Thanks y/n. I'm really thankful you came over”

“Well I can't just leave you someone has to try and get you through these gross… feelings you're not used to”

“Can you stay?”

“What?”

“Can you stay? I don't think I wanna be on my own tonight”

“Of course Benny”

We stayed up a little long chatting about things but soon it came time for bed he put up the air bed for himself and I took his bed even if I argued but he let me have it.

I changed borrowing one of his shirts for the night getting cosy in the warm bed.

The lights out the only sound the occasional sound of the New York cars above the basement.

I was about to drift off when I perked up hearing the creek of the door and soon enough the covers moved and Benny crawled in with me

“Hi”

“Did you want your own bed back?”

“No, I just… I don't wanna be alone right now” he says slowly wrapping his arms around me and pulling me tight to his body my hips to his my back to his chest squeezing me almost like I was his teddy bear

“Okay Benny, you don't need to worry I'll be right here,” I reassured letting him squeeze me tightly to his body, he held me tight pressing his lips to my shoulder

“Can I get my anger out?” He asked

“Alright” I nodded

He moved and pushed me down on my back “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” I nodded

He nodded and leant down to nibble and kiss my neck, before he pulled down his boxers and tugged off my panties, he started off gently slipping himself inside me he held my hips firmly digging his nails into my skin as he aggressively thrusted, often bitting his lips and gritting his teeth letting out his frustration and anger though the movement of his hips. He began to slow so I smiled and held his hips gently turning us so he laid on his back and I sat on top of him gently moving my hips slowly “Reveling in your anger is not going to make you feel better” I smiled stroking his stomach as I moved

“I know. I just wanted to get the anger out” he sighed moving his hips with me

“Wouldn’t this be nicer?”

“It is much nicer.” he smiled “Nice and calming” He cooed sitting up a little and wrapping his arms around me to pull me into his chest for an intense kiss I smiled into the kiss as I moved my hips faster trying to match his own speed getting more and more intense the longer it went on I knew I was close starting to nibble on his neck as I began to slow getting close to my edge he noticed and smirked making sure to work as hard as he could letting out the last of his frustration until I reached my peak biting his neck as I did which in turn got him to his own edge burying himself deep inside me and riding it out before he collapsed against the bed and I basically fell off onto the other side

“Feel better now Benny?”

“Yeah” he nods between gasps “That is way better than therapy”

“They're not mutually exclusive Benny.”

“I still think this is better”

“You can’t just ignore your feelings and deal with your frustrations through sex” I told him

He smirked and turned over to spoon me “Did it work?”

“...yes but?”

“Did it work?”

“Yes.”

“Then I'm gonna do it” he shrugs

“Alright Benny, if that’s how you wanna deal with your feelings” I laughed “Come on, let's get some sleep”

“Alright, Night”

“Night” I smiled giving him a little kiss before we cuddled up and drifted off to sleep.

I yawned as I woke up I gently pushed Benny’s arms off me climbed out the bed and headed across the apartment, I went to the kitchen and began to make coffee humming to myself a little.

“Morning,” Benny spoke up from the bedroom door

“Morning, How are you feeling today?”

“Better. Much better” he smiled coming and wrapping his arms around me giving my neck some kisses “You always make me feel better”

“I do?”

“You do. I’m sorry”

“For what?”

“For being a dick, when we…” he began “I realize it and I’m sorry”

“That's very sweet. Apology accepted. I’m sorry for how I was too”

“Apology accepted” he smiled

“I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with the shit from Beth”

“It’s fine. I know how to deal with it”

“Oh?”

“She can find another doormat. She wants to drink and wants to go on her own she can. I don’t want that. We can be friends if she wants but nothing more than that. I don’t feel like I want anything more”

“Okay. I’m proud of you, for expressing your feelings” I smiled

“Did you wanna stay for a while? Spend some time together?”

“Is that also part of you dealing with this?” I giggled turning to face him

“Kinda. But Now I know what you wanted. And I want that too. Maybe now we're a little older we’ll be better, more communicative, better with our feelings. So? Did you wanna try again?”

“On one condition.”

“Oh?”

“Go to therapy, Benny.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes.”

“How much therapy?”

“How about one session, one date.”

“Three dates one session”

“Two.” “Deal” he smiled pulling me into a sweet kiss “Will you help me find one?”

“Yes, I will.” I giggled “Come on we’ll have coffee and a cuddle”

“Sounds perfect”

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