#i hope there aren’t any typos | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

peninkwrites · 2 years

Text

Wake up. Ch 13 of ?

Tommy and Wilbur both contemplate how to die with mixed success.

(CW: graphic discussion of suicide, violence, temporary character death.)

crossposted to ao3

Ch 1

Ch 12

Ch 14

Tommy paces his cell erratically, lip still swollen and a bruise forming along his chin. His footsteps echo differently here, the wet floors are irritating. The cell is fucking smaller. His old cell, ten paces from the back of the room to the front. This one, eight. It’s fucking infuriating. Tommy keeps hitting the wall by mistake.

“Fuck!” Tommy stubs his toe again, punching the wall even as it scrapes his knuckles. He turns around, shaking out his hands and putting them just in front of him so hopefully they’ll hit the wall first.

“Okay Tommy, how do you want to play this, eh? Because you feel like you’re about to lose your FUCKING MIND already!” Tommy gestures furiously, tugging on his hair before he flinches at the wall coming to meet him and turns around sharply. “Do you go nuts until Dream beats some sense into you or do try to keep your fucking mouth shut? HA like playing it safe has ever fucking worked– well except when it does work and you feel like you escape something fucking awful by the skin of your teeth. Have you forgotten how bad it gets Tommy?!” He flinches away from the wall and turns around. “Because right now your stupid fucked up brain wants to find Dream and attack him until you can’t move anymore– pain isn’t temporary. You’re thinking- oh, just get beat and then it’s over! But the pain FUCKING LASTS Tommy, bruises take days and cuts even longer and all that piled on top of whatever else– the dark cell!” Tommy laughs hysterically, voice high and hoarse. “You want to go there?! So why the fuck do you STILL WANT TO TEAR HIM APART!” Tommy screams himself hoarse, his voice echoing back against him, shrill and almost painful. “Who gives a shit if Dream hears–“

Tommy bites down on his knuckles just to feel something, hitting his forehead until it feels like he can breathe again. “Okay, okay think- what do you know? What do you fucking know? It’s fucking Punz, isn’t it? Fucking PUNZ! That lying fucking bastard!” Tommy throws himself against the sealed over wall until he can’t catch his breath and has to stop. “From the fucking beginning, yeah? He– he’s the one that said Dream was by L’Manberg. Bet that fucker stole Wilbur’s body from the community house before I could get it! A-And maybe– oh,” Tommy bites down on his knuckles again, something between a whimper and a laugh smothered by it. “Those nights you thought he was watching– you don’t know! Right?! You don’t know! Could’ve been FUCKING PUNZ!”

Tommy laughs. “And– and you got stupid! You got stu-pid, didn’t you, Tommy?! You didn’t make a stasis chamber, because even if they could pull you out, Wilbur is still trapped but nooo Wilbur is not fucking trapped, and you’ve lost your chance! But say you did have a stasis chamber, unless they found it and pulled you back when you first got here it wouldn’t even fucking matter because Dream has got you in one too and he’d just take you back first. Maybe you’d– Maybe you’d have the chance to set it up again before Dream pulled you back and then they’d save you before he could make you do it again! Oh, what the fuck it doesn’t fucking matter because you didn’t, did you? And now you’re fucking stuck here with a fucked up bastard and another MINI fucked up bastard!”

Punz has yet to make the journey back to the mainlands. His leg is still killing him and he isn’t really feeling up for a swim right now. He can hear Tommy screaming through the walls.

“The fuck–“ Punz glances down the hallway. “Uhh, does Tommy seem a little nuts to you?”

“Huh? Tommy?” Dream has been writing in that book of his. “Oh, oh yeah. No. You have no idea what a crazy Tommy looks like. You don’t wanna know,” Dream shakes his head. “Fucking creepy.”

Punz ignores the questions that alone raises. “Now what?” Punz asks. “Do I get to see your notes or what?”

“What?” Dream turns sharp and defensive, snapping the journal shut. “No. No, these aren’t just research, it’s– it’s personal.”

Punz scoffs. “What, you’ve got a diary?”

“Shut up. We’re business partners, you only get what’s part of our arrangement. You’re lucky I’m letting you in this at all,” Dream snaps.

“Okay, then, partner,” Punz says sarcastically. “What next, then? You know I haven’t actually seen anyone revived. I know it’s happened, because Tommy is here, but I want to see it.”

“I’ll do you one better,” Dream stands. “Do you want to do it?”

“What?”

Dream turns back to look at him and Punz doesn’t need to see his face to know he’s amused. “If you’re feeling up to it, wanna bring Tommy back to life?”

Punz’s first reply is stupid and impulsive. “But Tommy’s not dead.”

Dream laughs. “Don’t worry. There are a lot of ways to fix that.”

Tommy keeps pacing. “Oh that fucking asshole– playing along all the while– oh my god–“ Tommy almost cackles, “you gave him the rest of your fucking diamonds! You paid him to do what was already his fucking job–“ Tommy cuts himself off with a scream as the wall opens with a hum of red stone.

“Whoa, there, Tommy. You’re getting yourself all worked up,” Dream reaches out a hand, as if to calm him.

“Shut the fuck up!” Tommy snarls hoarsely. Tommy claps his hands over his mouth, stumbling back. “I’m sorry,” Tommy says softly. “I’m so fucking sorry I dunno, I–“

“It’s okay, Tommy,” Dream is quick to reassure him, nudging Punz, like they share a joke, like the two of them are school bullies and not captors. “You’re not yourself right now. That’s okay, you’ll get back into the swing of things.”

“What does–“ Tommy glances between them frantically. Dream is right, he’s worked himself into a panic. Tommy isn’t used to being trapped lately. “What does that mean?”

“Come on. Let’s show Punz here what you’ve learned,” Dream nods him back out into the corridor, guiding him back toward the dome.

“What I’ve…” Tommy mutters hoarsely. “What?”

“Stand there, Tommy,” Dream pulls him into the middle of the room, offering him something. “Punz hasn’t seen a revival yet. And I’m sure you remember what the first step of that is, right?”

Tommy glances down. Dream is offering him a knife. Tommy accepts it with trembling hands. The jugular. Go on, do it. Between his helmet and his chest plate, catch him in the fucking neck–

Dream steps away before Tommy can commit. “Go on, then,” he nods encouragingly. “Kill yourself.”

“What?” Tommy stares at the shining metal in his hand. “I haven’t– I haven’t done it with a knife before, Dream.” Tommy is no longer in hysterics, but his hesitant logic like this somehow makes any sense unnerves Punz as much as the screaming. “I can’t do that. Please can I– can I drown instead?” Tommy glances to the glass dome.

“No, Tommy,” Dream says scoldingly. “We’re not going to go fish out your body. I’m telling you to kill yourself with that knife. So, go.”

Tommy struggles to think. “I dunno if I…” Tommy hesitantly raises the knife to his throat before stopping. “I only think I can manage the wrists,” he frowns, looking carefully from the blade to his own flesh, “and bleeding out that way is slow.”

“Well, I’d figure it out fast. I want you dead,” Dream tilts back on his heels, teasing him now. “So make it happen, or I’ll do it. And trust me, it’ll be a lot worse than just slow.”

“I d-don’t– I can’t, I don’t think I can!” Tommy turns hysterical again. “I just– I don’t think I–“ Tommy holds the knife over his chest, but he cannot plunge a dagger into his own heart. Human nature is still a stubborn thing however hard Dream has tried to take it from him.

Dream sighs, looking to Punz as if they shared some mutual annoyance, but Punz is far more focused on the fact that everything about this feels fucking unnatural.

“Okay, Tommy, I’ll help you,” Dream says it like he’s doing him a favor, even as he pulls out his crossbow. “But like I said, it won’t be easy for you.”

Tommy doesn’t even scream when his leg gives out, a bolt through his knee, just this weak sort of gasp. Punz’s own injured leg twinges at the sight.

“Your turn.”

“What?” Punz stares at Dream, startled as that mask turns to him.

“Go on. Shoot him. Wherever you want it doesn’t have to be fatal. We put enough arrows in him, he’ll stop moving eventually, right?” Dream laughs. Punz doesn’t. “Aw, come on, it’s a joke. It’s a little funny.”

Dream is challenging him again. Punz already hesitated too long once, but he’s not here to appease Dream or make Dream think he’s strong enough, but there still is that irritating pressure to ensure Dream knows Punz is still a threat.

“Can you make it quick? He won’t, but if you– if you could shoot me in the chest. In the lungs would help. I could drown then. Or– or if not can you at least get me in the spine so it doesn’t hurt so bad? Please, Punz, I’m sorry I can’t do it I dunno why so please, just–“

It takes hearing his name to realize Tommy’s frantic babbling is directed at him. Tommy stares at him, pleading, waiting. Punz doesn’t move so Tommy instead looks to the bolt through his leg. He tries to pull it through the rest of the way, stopping quickly with a whimper, hands shaking. “F-Fuck,” Tommy pauses before taking ahold of the bolt again, gearing himself up. His blood has already begun to spread through the water.

“Really?” Dream gives Punz a doubtful look. “Fine, dunno what I expected. You’ve gotten so squeamish lately,” he shrugs, reloading a bolt. “I’m thinking taking out the other knee, y’know so it’s even–“

Dream doesn’t get the chance. Punz levels his crossbow with Tommy’s head. Tommy is still looking down, still fumbling with the bolt already through his leg. Punz fires.

“Aw,” Dream pouts, lowering his crossbow. “You’re no fun.”

Punz doesn’t look at him. His focus remains on the body now collapsed forward, blood pooling, the red less dramatic diluted by saltwater, but it still spreads too far out. Close enough to reach his Netherite boots. It must have burned, Punz thinks. When his leg gave out and hit the water.

Dream sighs. “We’ll leave him dead for an hour. He didn’t listen and kill himself like I asked, so. Give him some time alone to think about it.” Dream kicks the body, rolling Tommy over. Punz looks away. He doesn’t like that Tommy’s eyes are still open. Most of his hits over the years, they despawn, or he’s gone the moment the body drops and he never has to see the outcome.

Dream just keeps talking. “Hm. Tommy asked you to shoot him in the spine. To paralyze him. Last time we tried that he said– or like, nodded a tiny bit or blinked, that it wasn’t worth losing the pain. Because it hurt or whatever. Maybe I’ll have to try that again, see what changed his mind,” Dream rummages for his journal.

“Why does it matter?” Punz watches him carefully.

“What?”

“The pain. The how of it all, what’s that have to do with immortality?” Punz asks, something reproachful in his tone.

“Hm,” Dream almost seems to assess him. “Do you still feel pain, Punz?”

Punz forces himself not to step back. “Yeah. On occasion.”

Dream nods, satisfied. “Then it matters.”

Tommy returns to the dark. Despite being out of practice, he makes it back on even ground within the hour.

It feels almost poetic that as he stares around the endless black he realizes he misses Wilbur’s Limbo. It had walls and shapes and light…

He could try to get that back, but that could easily be a months long project, if his struggles to get the jukebox were anything to go by. Not like he has anything but time. Tommy actually isn’t sure if the things he manifests will remain in Limbo when he is revived and will then be there on his return. It would fucking suck if every bit of progress he made got snatched away from him, it also sounds like exactly the type of shit luck he would get stuck with.

“I mean, not if I deserve to keep my progress, right?” Tommy says to nothing and no one. His voice doesn’t echo and now Tommy finds that comforting. Now that he knows an echo means reality– if this can be called reality, maybe a reality– is so bent and broken that he can see himself, reflecting out infinitely…

No echo is better.

His memories of a death are always blurry in the aftermath, it hasn’t been too long so it hasn’t really faded yet. Tommy knows Dream shot him enough to hurt, but he doesn’t remember who actually killed him.

Tommy doesn’t feel like trying to get ahold of a disc or anything else to occupy himself, so maybe if he instead just focuses, he can figure out if Punz actually did it.

“I was begging him to, I kind of remember that bit. ‘Cause Dream was being all fucked up about me not wanting to slit my fuckin’ wrists,” Tommy scowls, wandering through the darkness, the same as pacing his cell but without the need to stop and turn around. “Oh my god– I asked him to shoot me in the fuckin’ spine! That is not gonna go over well when I’m back, now, is it?”

Tommy stops, staring into the dark. “You’ve gotten loud again, Tommy,” he says quietly, staring at the emptiness. “Last time… I lost that early on. Exile was– I was alone, and I got quiet from that, and then he made me get like, super quiet ‘cause he’d hurt me for saying the wrong thing. And already I’m talking again and that is going to come back and get me bad.”

Silence. Tommy waiting for a reply that is never coming.

“I don’t want to get all quiet again,” Tommy’s voice grows smaller, weaker as it does when he’s afraid. He refuses. “I don’t want to be quiet again,” he repeats louder, more forcefully.

And still, there is no one to reply.

“Dream hurt Wilbur to hurt me. I think… that was him punishing me for trying to escape again, right? What about for me killing him, does it cover that as well?” Tommy huffs, frustrated, resuming his walking. “And now Punz is here, and that’s the one thing I need, right? An unknown variable to come cloppin’ in to cause more problems.”

“I really don’t remember what killed me,” Tommy frowns. “If it was him, and he killed me when I asked… I really don’t know if that’s… if that should count as something good from all this.”

Phil is torn wildly between guilt and relief. His son is alive and back and he looks like he’s about to ask Phil to run him through with a sword again because someone else went in his place. However much Phil wants to help him, he knows all he can do is hope they get Tommy back. Wilbur remains curled on the edge of the platform of New L’Manberg. The sun starts to set and Phil realizes Wilbur won’t move without someone else to make him.

“Wil? Come on in before the mosquitos eat you alive,” Phil calls from the doorway.

Wilbur jumps and Phil almost panics, thinking he’s going to fall forward off the edge, but he catches himself, rigid, an iron grip white knuckled on the wood.

“You alright, mate?” Phil tries instead.

Wilbur seems to motion something close to a nod before he stands, turning around and returning to the warm light spilling from Phil’s doorway.

“They’re not back yet,” Wilbur croaks, his voice hoarse. Phil can see he’s been crying.

“No. I haven’t heard anything from Techno yet,” Phil winces sympathetically. “Do you want to wash up, maybe? You’re a bit…” Phil had cleared some of the blood from the back of Wilbur’s head, but that did nothing for the rest of it.

Wilbur nods shortly, looking almost frigid, like he’s an uninvited guest in the company of strangers. “Can I use your bath?”

“Downstairs,” Phil nods him in.

“You’ve got a downstairs? Thought the whole place is on stilts,” Wilbur frowns, puzzled.

“Yeah, it’s walled off from the water and then it’s underground.”

Wilbur shudders. “I think… I think I’d rather use your sink up here, then.”

“What? Why?” Phil follows him nervously as Wilbur takes off his coat, which is stiff with dried blood and salt.

Wilbur keeps that thin, solemn frown, dark eyes fixated on the floor. “I… I was under water. Where Dream had me prisoner. I think. There was salt water pooled on the floor of the cell.”

“O-Oh,” Phil falters. He doesn’t know how to reply to that. “That’s fine, Wil. I can stay up in the loft, but I’m there if you need me. You can use the kitchen, then. I’ll bring up soap and towels first,” Phil descends into his basement. The instant coolness of being underground, the dampness in the air, he can imagine Wilbur being unsettled by it.

Phil returns to Wilbur already hunched over the sink, running his hair under the faucet, a bloody and tattered shirt alongside his coat. Phil stops, for a moment he cannot move. Wilbur’s skin is awash with scrapes and bruises in varying shades of severity.

His right shoulder and bicep is faded to the yellows and greens of older bruising, his left however has deep purple marks that, on a second glance, Phil realizes is in the shape of a hand holding him there. Phil hadn’t been able to see it from the turned up collar of his jacket, but a mixture of green and brown bruising make a ring around Wilbur’s neck as well. Lighter bruises dot his back. He’s thin too. The last time Phil had seen his son alive, that day, the 16th, he’d seemed thinner as well, almost sickly from the deep bags under his eyes and his corpse certainly hadn’t looked any better, and even now alive once more his ribs stand out far too much, his spine a visible line all the way down his back, and his shoulder blades for a moment give Phil a horrifying image of cut off wings from how far they poke out.

As the blood begins to wash away there is little relief. Wilbur’s wrists have dark purple rings beaded with cuts from the chains, and it looks like he’s had a broken nose recently that was poorly set, and–

“Holy shit,” Phil can’t help but exclaim softly, almost on instinct, but it’s enough that Wilbur jumps and looks back. “Sorry, sorry, but… your ear.”

Wilbur looks at him, confused, a hand going up to his head before pulling away sharply as the wound still stings, bitter understanding dawns. “Yeah. He cut it off,” Wilbur says flatly.

“What’d you mean he–“ Phil begins a worthless, outraged question before stopping himself. His anger is worthless. Nothing to be done now. “Got it,” Phil says grimly.

“Er, yeah. Part of the ear, at least. Not all of it. Finger too,” Wilbur sarcastically waves with his left hand. His index finger is gone, cleanly cut at the knuckle.

Just like Tommy’s.

“Fuck,” Phil shakes his head, setting down the towels. “Jesus Christ– Wil, you–“ he doesn’t know what to say. There’s nothing to say to something like that.

“Yeah,” Wilbur says roughly, pausing for a moment and gripping the edge of the sink like he feels faint. Phil can guess where his mind wanders; Tommy.

Phil doesn’t know where he stands with his son anymore. For a lot of reasons. But he’s still his dad, and he wants Wilbur to know that.

“D’you want my help? With the… well, you got a lot of injuries that need taken care of and I’m guessing you’re still a bit sore and I could… I dunno. Finish up getting the blood out of your hair,” Phil tries uncertainly. “…and so on.”

Wilbur doesn’t look at him. “I– uh. Y-Yeah,” Wilbur’s voice breaks, he brushes his eyes quickly. He clears his throat, “fuck,” he says under his breath.

“Okay,” Phil replies, trying to be kind without making Wilbur feel helpless is a difficult thing to balance. Phil grabs a chair from his dining table, pulling it over to the sink, handing him a towel. “Sit down, then.”

Wilbur obliges, the towel wrapped around his shoulders, hands balled tightly into fists, tense.

“You’re alright, mate,” Phil says gently. He soaks a towel in warm water, dampening Wilbur’s hair, brushing through it so dried blood pulled away rust red from his tangled and oily strands. They don’t talk. It’s a slow task that could’ve been much easier if Wilbur had just gone and taken a bath, but Phil couldn’t care less. He’s as careful as he can around the welts on the back of Wilbur’s head, delicately dabbing away blood, the same for his ear, murmuring apologies when Wilbur flinches, but he never complains.

Phil ends up kneeling in front of him, brushing away dried blood from under his fingernails, grief and fury carefully bottled at the mostly healed wound where Wilbur’s left index finger used to be. He hasn’t looked at Wilbur’s face yet, even as he knows there’s blood there too. Phil doesn’t know how long it takes him to work up the courage, but eventually he says, “you can talk to me. If you want. Or not. It’s okay either way. I’m not going anywhere.”

At first Wilbur doesn’t say anything, and Phil assumes he doesn’t want to talk, the silence continues on, until finally:

“I’m not supposed to– I shouldn’t be here,” Wilbur whispers shakily.

Phil pauses, still holding Wilbur’s hand, he looks up at his son’s face and Wilbur looks so young. Phil would always see Wilbur as his little boy, but even with Wilbur’s eyes shadowed and haggard, the tears that spill down his cheeks, his eyes pleading, it’s like Phil is staring at his son from a different time, when Wilbur could look at him, scared and desperate, and know his father could fix it, that his dad could dig out the splinter, could replace a guitar string, could help him find whatever had been lost. Wilbur is just as desperate and vulnerable and weak, but there’s none of that faith left. Not the kind Phil had once known. And still, Wilbur is pleading.

“Wil,” Phil cups his cheek, brushing away tears. “You have every right to be here. And so does Tommy. So you’re gonna stay here with us and we’re gonna bring him home.”

“Please, Phil,” Wilbur takes Phil’s hand. “I can’t– I can’t leave him there, I can’t.”

Phil takes a deep breath, the ache in his chest only growing worse. “I know what you want from me, Wil. I won’t make the same mistake twice. Not when I just got you back.”

Wilbur lets go, no longer looking Phil in the eye, fixated on the ground, desperation traded for something colder. “Right. Got it.”

“You’ve got to understand, Wil, I–”

“I understand,” Wilbur stands. “I’m gonna go get washed up,” he walks past him and descends downstairs and underground without a second thought. Phil knows Wilbur hasn’t suddenly abandoned his fears. He’s leaving to punish himself as much as Phil.

Phil cannot feel guilty for refusing to kill his son, but he knows if they don’t get Tommy back, Wilbur is never going to stop trying, one way or another.

Tommy is alive again. It’s harder for him to figure out when his consciousness realized it had a mortal body once more without those stupid fucking words, wake up.

But that means… Tommy squints in the dim light of the glowstone lamp. He’s on the floor of his cell, and someone else stands across from him.

“You’re back?” The figure approaches, crouching down next to him, annoyingly waving a hand in front of his face.

“Oi, fuck off, you’re gonna make me dizzy,” Tommy grumbles hoarsely. It takes a few more seconds for him to adjust to the light and refocus on the living world. “So… he let you have the revivebook, then?”

Punz steps back. “Yeah. I mean, he gave me a copy. Didn’t let me see much of the inside,” he says gloomily.

“Uh huh. Makes sense,” Tommy laughs. “Ow…” His head hurts, but Tommy almost thinks dying reset him a bit. That jittery hysteria Tommy had before, first to tear Dream apart, then terrified of what would happen to him, it's almost dulled. Now he's just weary.

“Are you hurt?” Punz asks, intrigued rather than concerned.

“I just got undeaded yeah I’m fuckin’ hurt,” Tommy snaps. “What’d you think happens when you shoot a man?”

Punz frowns, “I mean, you look healed.”

“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt.”

“Do you feel weak?”

Tommy gives him a scathing once over. “Let me guess. You wanna know if you could die in a fight, get revived, and keep swinging?”

Punz frowns, unsure if he should feel offended or not. “I mean, yeah.”

“Well, first off, you’d need someone there to revive your ass, dunno if they’d get the chance if they’re fighting and shit,” Tommy struggles to sit up, wincing. “And secondly, you come back weak and confused and fuckin’ sore. I mean, you get used to it, sort of. But it’s not like totems or god apples or other magic shit to help you, all it does is make you alive again. That’s about it.”

Punz nods, considering this carefully. At least he's not taking fucking notes like Dream.

“You’re not bothered that he didn’t actually let you learn it? Thought you were smarter than that, Punz. What is it?” Tommy gestures vaguely in the air, “teach a man to fish, give a man a fish? You happy just bein’ a fish?”

Punz grows more irritated, “that’s not how that works, I wouldn’t be a fish–” Punz stops himself, refusing to fall into Tommy’s nonsense. “And I expected this from Dream. It’ll take time–“ Punz blinks like he’s woken up properly from something, “why am I talking about this with you?” He scoffs.

Tommy shrugs, “dunno, just trying to make conversation. Anyway,” Tommy glances around the room expectantly. “Where’s the food?”

“What?”

“Ugh, he didn’t even tell you that?” Tommy gives him the most pitying look he can manage. “I told you. Revival takes a lot out of you, man. I’m fuckin’ starving. He really didn’t?” Tommy sighs. “Post-death, I get more food. Highlight of the fuckin’ day for me.”

“You’ve been causing trouble already. Why would you expect me to reward that?”

“It’s not a reward,” Tommy scoffs. “It’s just… how he keeps me functional. You don’t even have to do it right this second, but I wouldn’t wait too long.” Tommy looks at Punz expectantly, but he gives no indication of caring. It was worth a shot, not to say Tommy had very high hopes for Punz, but it felt like a believable enough thing. “Fine, but when you two come back to find me passed out or fuckin’ dead again ‘cause you were careless, don’t blame me for the inconvenience, I’m sure Dream will love that.”

Tommy stares at Punz, not even waiting for a reply, but like he’s putting together some pieces. Tommy badly suppresses another laugh, like he knows something Punz doesn’t. He actually looks smug.

“What’re you looking at?” Punz says brusquely.

“You know, Punz,” Tommy’s voice is less jaunty and whiny now, instead only a cool certainty, yet again something between pity and contempt returns to his gaze. “Dream told me we were figuring out immortality together too.”

Punz doesn’t know what he expected from Tommy. It wasn’t that. Or maybe it isn’t Tommy’s words that surprised him, but his own reaction to it. For the first time since choosing this path, since working with Dream, Punz feels… not worried, not even something like regret or irritation. Punz won’t acknowledge it, not even to himself, but Tommy staring at him with such certainty, such camaraderie, it scares him.

“Sure, Tommy, you’re helping us figure out immortality, alright. But that’s about all, huh?” Punz says dryly. He doesn’t know why he feels the need to argue back. “What, you think being a labrat and being a business partner are somehow comparable in Dream’s mind?”

Rather than put off, Tommy seems almost delighted, grinning. “Now you’re getting it. You know how he said I could live a bit more free range, wander around the base? Not so sure if that’s still true, but it’s what he said. See, he changes his mind, don’t he? All depends on what Dream feels like. So, just because he lets you wander a little further right now doesn’t mean he thinks you’re a person.” Tommy scoffs at the notion, giving Punz one more patronizing, pitying once over. “You’re just so well trained you don’t even need a leash, eh?”

Punz’s anger sparks more easily than he would’ve liked, and all he can think of are Dream’s words, “What, were you gonna go over there and actually hit him to make him listen to you? Because that’s what you’d have to do.” Tommy and Dream are both challenging him. Maybe for now Punz can avoid acting, he can use the easy, amoral excuse of it doesn’t matter who does it, and letting Dream step in when he pauses, for so long. What, Punz can shoot this kid in the head, but he can’t slap him across the face? Dream was already finding his hesitation amusing, happy to jump in to hit Tommy instead, but Punz doesn’t want Dream to eventually take it for weakness, if he doesn’t already.

So hit him now. Do it, he talked back. He thinks you’re weak too. He called you a dog on a leash. At the very least threaten him.

“You’re having a hard time dealing with being out of control again, aren’t you?” Punz says instead.

Tommy narrows eyes, scowling. While Punz certainly isn’t wrong, Tommy has been pushing for a reason. He’s not expecting Punz to turn out to be some hero, but he’s not like Dream. He hesitates. He doesn’t look like he’s having fun. The bar is low, but that still counts for something, of course, that depends on what Punz does next. Punz hasn't hurt him yet. Not really. Okay, shooting him in the head might count, but Tommy considers that small potatoes. He's just watched. Tommy definitely doesn't expect the man to step in and ask Dream to hold back a bit, but when Dream isn't here, Tommy wants to know what to expect. Maybe pushing isn't the right move, maybe he should keep trying to stay on Punz's good side, but Tommy would rather know than not. Better than being stupid enough to let his guard down. Pain is pain, sure, but Tommy fucking hated it when Dream would play nice for a day, just to see Tommy's surprise when he finally snapped back to violence. Tommy watches warily as Punz searches his inventory, always expecting a weapon.

“Here,” Punz passes Tommy dried steak. “There’s your food. Maybe Dream will still let you wander around the base, but that’s not gonna be my problem. For now you're staying here,” Punz leaves Tommy there, locking the cell behind him.

Tommy stares at the closed doorway, not sure what to make of it. Instead of lashing out or hurting him for daring to question him– for daring to insult him, because really that's what Tommy had done, what he had deliberately pushed the envelope with, Punz had obliged, either fallen for or chosen to go along with Tommy's little ploy for food, and left him alone without even a threat hanging over his head. Tommy doesn't feel better. If anything, it sets him more on edge. He needs to know where Punz's limit is, all he knows is Punz isn't above belittling his weak efforts of resistance. Dickhead.

#my writing #suicide ment #violence #tddd #abuse cw #I updated this in such a rush I am running late for things but who cares #so. hope there aren’t any crazy typos

15 notes · View notes

whiskeyncoke-redux · 1 year

Note

I’ve always thought it would be fun to be a seat-filler at award shows, and now I can’t stop thinking about sitting next to a flirty Pedro Pascal.. (especially since they say you aren’t supposed to talk to the actors!)

The idea of him introducing himself (as if he isn’t a famous actor), sharing candy he snuck in with you or trying to make you laugh while on air and having to shoo away the award show employees that try to intervene. Him just being smitten with reader the whole night.. okay, I’d *love* to hear your take if it interests you!

Hi Nonny dearest, sorry it took me so long to respond, I just had to get my thoughts together because I LOVED this idea so much!! So here we go, hope you like it.

The Seat Filler

Pedro Pascal x Reader

A/N: here's another one, hope you all like it. No hateful comments please. Again I gotta shout out @ziggyrocket for the support ❤️. It's 6:32 in the morning, apparently I don't sleep like a normal person, I'm on my second cup of coffee, so any typos or whatever are my bad... and Maxwell house coffee's.

Warnings: none (well, corny jokes I guess)

----------------------------------------------------

You had signed up for this gig half on a dare and half out of curiosity. Being a new sign-up, you hadn’t expected to be called in right away, but yet, here you were, in a borrowed gown, in a theater mixed with some of the biggest stars and regular people just like you: seat fillers.

You remembered the main rules the director told you: 1) look like you’re enjoying yourself, always smile and 2) most importantly DO NOT talk to the actors, meaning the actual celebrities. You nodded and murmured your understanding along with everyone else who was there to work as fillers, not really thinking anything of it. What celebrity would want to talk to me anyway? You mused as you took your seat.

You looked around the theater, excitement flooding through you at the idea of being in such a place surrounded by people you had admired from afar, in magazines, and online. You took a deep breath to steady yourself; you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself. You glanced at the empty seat next to you on your left and wondered who’d be in it. On your right was another filler and on their right was another empty seat.

The filler next to you leaned over slightly and whispered, “Who do you think they’re gonna put next to us?”

You shrugged. “No idea, hope it’s someone good.”

He nodded in agreement, then a look came over his face as he glanced over your shoulder. You turned your head to look and you blinked hard as you recognized the man coming towards you, and taking the vacant seat next to you. While the man next to you was busy getting settled, you glanced back over at your fellow seat filler, whose jaw had semi-dropped. You both exchanged excited looks, then you nudged him lightly with your elbow and he shook himself, cleared his throat lightly and sat up. You both faced forward, determined to be on your best behavior.

Unfortunately for you, your newest seat mate had different ideas. Pedro knew the whole deal with seat fillers and how they were told not to speak to anyone. But he felt a mischievous streak go through him when he saw you glance at him briefly.

“Hi,” he said, taking his seat. “I’m Pedro Pascal.”

“Hi,” you said back, nervously glancing around to make sure that no one saw you speaking to him.

The two of you smiled at each other, before you turned back to face the front. He took a few seconds to study your profile as you sat there, determinedly facing the front, sitting as still as a statue.

He glanced down and saw that your elbow was resting on the shared arm rest. With a small smirk, he placed his on the arm rest too, bumping yours.

You looked over at him, smiled awkwardly and whispered a hurried, “Sorry,” before moving your arm and facing forward again.

After a few minutes, you placed your elbow back on the arm rest, and, noticing that, Pedro, bumped your elbow again with his. You moved your arm again. And then a few more minutes later, you placed it back again, only for him to bump you again. After the fourth time this happened, you looked over at him with a slightly raised eyebrow and he just smiled innocently at you.

A few minutes later you felt him shift next to you, you looked over and saw him pulling out a bag of Skittles. You tried to hide your smile, but he noticed and nudged you slightly and offered you some. You looked around, making sure that there was no one watching, and then you held open your palm and he shook some of the candies into it.

“Thanks,” you whispered and popped a few into your mouth.

A little over an hour into the show, you could feel him getting restless next to you. You figured the sugar had gotten to him. After the Skittles, he had pulled out a candy bar, broke it in half and shared it with you. He fidgeted in his seat, tapping his fingers on his knee and the seat. You tried to ignore it, but you had to admit it was more than a little distracting.

“Are you okay?” you whispered hurriedly to him.

He turned to you and nodded. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Are you though?” you asked, gesturing to his jiggling knee.

He smiled. “Yeah.” But his knee kept jiggling, you had to suppress a laugh at that.

He noticed you struggling to keep a straight face, and decided to aim the restless energy he had at you. He was going to make you laugh, really laugh, by the end of the show. His mind was made up.

He thought for a moment and then he leaned over to you, “Psst, hey.”

“Yeah?” you answered looking straight ahead.

“I have a question.”

“Mmhmm?”

“Why did the bicycle fall over?”

You were confused. “I’m sorry?”

“I said: why did the bicycle fall over?”

“Uhh, I don’t know. Why?”

“Because it was two tired.”

You turned to look at him after that, he laughed at the look on your face.

“That was corny,” you said, shaking your head, but pursing your lips to keep from laughing.

“Oh, that reminds me of another one,” he said, with a twinkle in his eye. He looked around, cleared his throat, and then asked, “What does corn say when it gets a compliment?”

You shook your head and shrugged your shoulders, not wanting to say anything but wanting to hear the punchline, you turned to him.

Barely able to suppress his giggles, he answered,”Aw, shucks!”

You put your hand over your mouth, trying to stifle the laugh you felt escaping your lips.

“Okay, one more,” he announced.

“Oh, lord,” you groaned.

“It’s a good one, I promise.”

You waved your hand slightly for him to go ahead, knowing he would anyway.

“Okay, why are pirates called pirates?”

You bit your lip trying not to laugh. “I don’t know why?”

He leaned closer. “They just arrrr!” he whispered the last word in a bad pirate accent.

You couldn’t help it, you snorted, then quickly covered your mouth to stifle your giggles, but he’d heard it, and he smiled at that.

“Good one right?” he asked.

You shook your head. “No, oh my god, that was bad, but…” you couldn’t finish as a fresh wave of giggles overtook you. Your shoulders shook with your suppressed laughter.

He smiled and laughed along with you. For the rest of the ceremony, he would lean over and whisper comments about one person’s speech, or another’s outfit, nothing malicious or mean, just something to make you smile. And he always had a bad joke or two to whisper to you.

By the end of the program, your cheeks were hurting from all the smiling and your stomach was sore from the laughing. You couldn’t help it, a few had escaped, luckily it was during the jokes the emcee told, so it looked as if you were enjoying the show. Truth be told, you couldn’t remember what had happened during the show, or who had won which award. If someone had quizzed you on it after, you surely would have failed; but you felt it was worth it because being seated next to Pedro had made it the best night of your life. You hadn’t laughed that hard, or enjoyed yourself that much in a long time.

After the show was over, you headed out with your fellow seat filler.

“You seemed to really be enjoying yourself,” he said as you filed out into the lobby.

You nodded with a huge grin on your face. “Yeah, I did.”

“I could tell,” he said, nodding, “what was he saying to you to make you laugh so much?”

You shrugged. “Oh, just a few jokes, and comments that’s all,” you said lightly.

He looked at you curiously, but when he realized you weren’t going to elaborate he commented, “Lucky you. The one they put next to me was on her phone the entire time.” He shook his head. “At least you got some entertainment.”

You two chatted for a little more, making plans to grab a late dinner with him and some of the rest of the seat fillers. Before you could leave, however, you felt someone tap you on your shoulder.

“Okay, I have another one,” you heard Pedro’s voice in your ear before you could turn around. “Just thought of it.”

You looked at him. “All right, go on.”

“Which bear is the most condescending?”

You started laughing then answered, “what?”

“A pan-duh!”

You burst out laughing along with him. “Where on earth did you even hear these?”

He shrugged. “Internet.”

“They are so bad,” you said, still chuckling.

“And yet, you laughed. Therefore they did their job,” he pointed out.

“True enough,” you agreed, “thanks though.”

“For what?”

“Making this event… well, eventful. I was prepared to be bored out of my mind, sitting there like a statue, smiling a fake smile the entire night.”

He smiled at you. “Well, I’m glad I could help. So, what are you planning on doing after this?”

You shrugged. “I was gonna grab something to eat with some of the rest of the seat fillers…”

“Oh, okay, I'm doing the same.” He nodded and looked away. You noticed that for a second he looked slightly nervous, but before you could get a good look, his face cleared and he turned back to look at you.

“I guess I should let you go then…” you said, turning to catch up with your friends.

“Wait, one more question.”

You stopped and looked back at him. “What's up?”

“Well, you know, I have a lot more jokes…”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, and, well, all my friends and family have heard them. But you haven’t, at least I’m pretty sure you haven’t….”

You nodded. “I haven’t, I don’t think.”

“Good, well, I shall have to inflict them upon you, you know, if you don’t mind. Maybe over dinner tomorrow?”

You thought for a second. “I don’t mind at all,” you answered with a huge grin.

#ask #answered #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fan fiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #ficlet #pedro pascal rpf #rpf #javier peña #din djarin #joel miller #frankie catfish morales #whiskey writes

4K notes · View notes

andvys · 6 months

Text

I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 20

Warnings: angst, kinda mean!Eddie, mentions of an ED, fluff at the end

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!reader, Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: Tension arises between you and Eddie when Steve steps back into your life.

Word count: 8k+

A/N: If there's any typos or mistakes, you didn't see them! @hellfire--cult thanks for feeding me ideas, I'm blessed to have you

series masterlist

You can’t explain the awful feeling in your stomach or the suffocating feeling in your chest.

You have trouble understanding why it all feels so wrong when it’s all you have dreamed of for so long. Steve kissed you in a way he had never kissed you before, not even when you had just started dating did he kiss you with so much passion and love the way he did last night.

His touch was gentle, his lips were soft and he was so desperate to feel you against him – you were just as desperate and the kiss just showed how much you still love him, how much you still want him, how much you crave him even after everything that happened between you both. But, not even the passion of the kiss could erase the things he had done to you.

The moment it all caught up to you, the moment something else came to your mind, you pushed him away and you ran, you ran away from him and now you feel guilty for it but you couldn’t stay, you couldn’t stick around any longer.

You found Robin and Chrissy, blabbering out what happened to you before you begged them to take you home.

Now, you are laying in your bed, staring up at the white ceiling. You’re glad that you haven’t had much alcohol last night. The sharp pain in your lower stomach is already bad enough, you wouldn’t want to deal with both a headache and the awful cramps.

You don’t know how, but you manage to drag yourself out of the comfort of your bed. When the pain in your stomach gets sharper, you suddenly regret the plans that you had made with your friends for today.

Your heart leaps to your throat when your phone starts ringing. You don’t bother to hurry down the stairs to pick it up. You know who it is but you aren’t ready to talk to him.

Eddie had done nothing wrong, he had never done anything wrong.

But the thought of talking to him or even facing him fills you with an awful feeling, one that you can’t describe. You know you can’t run from it, you had made plans with Robin, Chrissy and Eddie.

You let the phone ring and disappear into the bathroom, you close the door and drown out the voice of the shrill sound.

You hope that a hot shower will help you get rid of that sickening feeling but your mind can’t rest and every time you think back to that kiss, you feel that immense guilt. Why? You wanted it, you wanted it just as much as he did.

Steve is single and so are you, there is not a reason for you to feel guilty about something that you had wanted for so long.

Or, maybe you feel guilty for doing this to yourself… again. Because why are you letting him back in? Why are you giving him the chance to hurt you again?

It doesn’t matter how he feels about you, it doesn’t matter how much he loves you, it doesn’t matter, not anymore.

He hurt you too many times for you to just let him back into your life like this.

You cannot give him the chance to hurt you again.

The clock strikes 2 when the doorbell rings. You furrow your brows when you look at the watch on your vanity, the one you never wear. Eddie is always on time when it comes to you but never when he picks up Robin first, she is always running late. You take one last look at yourself, fluffing out your hair a little more before you drop the lipgloss on the table. You smoothe down your skirt and reach for your little purse, picking out your favorite cardigan on the way out.

The doorbell rings again when you walk down the stairs, “I’m coming!” You sigh.

When you open the door, you don’t expect to see him on the other side. The smile that tugged at your lips instantly falls and tension arises in your body.

“Hi.”

Steve.

Your shoulders slump as you take in the sight of him. The soft and apologetic eyes, the hopeful look in his features. The messy hair.

“Hey,” you whisper.

“C-Can we talk?”

You’d rather not. The fear that he will pull you back in is too big.

“What about?”

You keep holding onto the door, staring at him as you try to calm the feeling in your chest. He had already walked you home last night, even though you tried to protest against it, he could’ve talked to you then but he stayed quiet, you did too.

He licks his lips as he looks down nervously. The atmosphere around you had changed yet again. You were ready to let him back into your life. You smiled at him again, you talked to him again, you wanted to be his friend – he ruined it all with a kiss and he knows it.

“I-I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

As you look into his eyes, you know, you just know, he is genuine about it. There’s remorse lingering in them and fear – fear of losing you again.

“Steve,” you sigh.

“I-I wasn’t – I wasn’t thinking about how much I would hurt you again a-and, I-I just wanted, no, needed to kiss you again. I messed up, I was a selfish prick. And I promise, it won’t happen again if you don’t want it.” He is pleading with his eyes as he looks down at you, “I loved every second of it b-but I shouldn’t have done it. I-I just, please forgive me, dolly.”

Steve had never begged for forgiveness when you were still together, he had done so many awful things, he hurt you so many times but he never begged for forgiveness, he just dismissed them and moved on and acted like he had never done anything wrong.

“I won’t ever do it again,” he says, even though kissing you is all he wants to do. “I just, I don’t want to lose you again.”

You don’t want to lose him again either.

Something about the look in his eyes and the sadness in his voice makes you feel guilty.

You nod.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, “just, promise me that you won’t kiss me again.”

“I promise!” He exclaims with wide eyes, “I promise, I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do. I-I know that we’re not exactly friends but I-I’d love for us to be friends again.”

Right now, you don’t see the Steve that hurt you. You see the boy you used to play hide and seek with. The boy who used to pick flowers for you. The boy who used to pick you up in the afternoons to get sundaes at Benny’s. The boy you made a pact with when you were little kids – that you would stay friends, no matter what.

And Steve really needs a friend. He doesn’t have Tommy anymore, he doesn’t have Nancy anymore – who is left?

“Steve?”

“Yes?” He asks, furrowing his brows when you completely dismiss his words.

“Who do you hang out with?”

“No one,” he says without a single moment of hesitation.

It might be his fault but you still feel bad for him. You and Tommy were his only friends and now he has neither one of you left.

He has no one.

No friends and not even his parents to come home to – they are never there.

Maybe it’s the image of him alone or maybe it’s just the look in his eyes that makes you feel heartbroken, sad for the man in front of you, the one who used to be your everything.

Suddenly, you feel the need to keep the promise that you had made as kids.

You open your mouth to speak but the sound of a car – a van pulling up to your driveway makes you freeze in your spot. Your heart leaps to your throat and you swallow harshly.

Eddie.

Oh no. You had been ignoring his calls all day, breaking the promise that you would call after every party – you didn’t, at least not last night. You couldn’t.

He gets out of the van and closes the door. You are so focused on him that you don’t see Chrissy and Robin on the other side of the van. Eddie stares at Steve’s car with a frown on his face and when he looks your way, he freezes.

Steve notices the panicked look in your eyes, the nervousness is written all over your face. He turns around. Eddie stands there with a frown on his face, anger in his features and disappointment.

Robin and Chrissy share a look when they find Steve on your front porch. They are the firsts to walk towards you, glancing at Eddie nervously.

You tear your eyes away from Eddie when Chrissy walks up the stairs, brushing past Steve, completely ignoring his presence.

“Hey!” She smiles but with a questioning look in her eyes. You know what she is thinking; what is he doing here?

“Hey Chris,” you smile and greet her with a hug. She places her hand on your shoulder when she pulls back, eying the skirt you are wearing, her eyes lighten up, “oh my god, is it the one we bought last week together?”

“Yes!”

“I love it, it’s so cute!”

“Don’t you have the same one?” Robin asks, chuckling as she approaches you, eying Steve weirdly.

He rolls his eyes and sighs.

“Yes but it’s not the same color, Robs!”

Robin gives Chrissy a teasing smile before she looks over at you, “hey wild child, are you good after last night?” She tilts her head in his direction, raising her brows at you as though to say ‘what the fuck is he doing here?’

You would’ve laughed at the nickname she just gave you if it wasn’t for the intense look that Eddie is giving you as he walks up the stairs as well. You see his clenched jaw, he is angry – angry that you ignored his calls, angry to see him here. But there is also a hint of sadness in his brown orbs and you can’t take it – you can’t stand to see even a sliver of sadness in his eyes.

He quickly masks it with something else, just the way he always does.

“Thanks for the call, sweetheart,” he says sarcastically, furrowing his brows with a fake smile on his lips, “I mean for thanks for letting me know that you got home safe. Oh and super nice of you to keep ignoring my calls all day too.”

You can’t even look at him so you look down.

Steve’s brows stayed furrowed, the tension and the awkwardness isn’t hard to miss. Eddie looks at him in a way that almost makes him shrink under the weight of his eyes. So he turns back to you. You are blinking, chewing on your bottom lip and breathing heavily. You feel guilty, so guilty that you can’t even look at Eddie. Steve’s heart drops a little. He remembers how he felt when Nancy kissed him, how he couldn’t look into your eyes without feeling like the guilt was eating at him. He felt horrible, even when it wasn’t a kiss he initiated or even let happen, he still felt guilty, just as guilty as you are feeling, right now.

But you and Eddie are just friends, right?

Robin and Chrissy look at each other awkwardly.

“Eddie, I-I’m sorry,” you say softly, “I had the worst headache–”

“Yeah, I can see that,” he mumbles, glancing at Steve.

Steve rolls his eyes at Eddie’s attitude.

“Look, can we just go?” Robin asks, wanting to escape the awkward situation.

“Yes please,” Chrissy mumbles.

You look up, slowly looking between your friends. You already know that Robin and Chrissy are both going to be too busy with each other and Eddie is clearly pissed – you have seen him angry before but the anger was never directed at you and you know very well how he can be when he’s pissed.

Before you can stop the words from spilling, you look up at Steve.

“Steve is coming too.”

All four of them turn to you, looking at you wide eyed – as though you had gone crazy.

Chrissy looks annoyed, Robin looks confused, Eddie looks at you in disbelief and Steve, he stares at you with softened eyes.

“I invited him,” you lie.

Steve shakes his head at you, he doesn’t want you to feel like you have to include him, this is not what he came here for. He just wanted to apologize and make things right.

Robin looks away with a clenched jaw and Chrissy looks down to hide her eye roll.

“Can I talk to you, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, tilting his head.

“Yeah,” you whisper, nervously.

You walk past Steve and the girls, clutching your cardigan tightly as you step out on the porch. Eddie places his hand on your lower back and leads you down the stairs and towards his van.

“Eddie, I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean to ignore you–”

“Did something happen?” He asks and finally swallows the anger down. He can hear the trembling in your voice, the shakiness of your hand which might be caused by something else.

He feels the urge to cup your cheeks so he can see your eyes but you keep looking down at the graveled ground.

You simply shake your head.

“Why didn’t you call me?” He asks softly, this time.

“I was really tired and I drank too much, I wasn’t thinking.”

You raise your head a little, daring to look at him.

“You’re lucky Robin called me otherwise I would’ve broke into your house.”

Your lips twitch and you break into a smile, “wouldn’t be the first time.”

He can’t help but smile back at you, his anger melting away.

“I-I’m sorry for inviting him, I know none of you want him around.”

“Then why did you invite him?” He asks, not out of anger but out of curiosity.

You can see the annoyance lingering in his eyes, the same annoyance you saw in Chrissy’s and Robin’s eyes.

You don’t know why you feel the need to explain yourself but when you look at him, you know you have to.

“He is just a friend now, I promise. I-I don’t want him like that – he’s just my friend.”

Eddie’s eyes skip over your face. Your brows are furrowed, eyes pleading and filled with honesty – he just doesn’t understand what the guilt is for.

“I still don’t understand why he has to be included.”

“He’s alone, Eddie.”

His brows knit together and he shakes his head.

“No, he isn’t? He’s with Nancy and bitchy Carol and fucktard Tommy–”

“He broke up with Nancy and he doesn’t have friends. Not anymore.”

Oh.

If there is one thing Eddie knows, it’s loneliness. And he can’t help but pity him. There isn’t much that he knows about Steve except for the things that you told him and his absent parents – it’s something that he unfortunately can relate to. He knows what it’s like to have no one. But fear grows inside of him at the news of Steve being single.

“Fine, don’t expect me to not mess with him though.”

You roll your eyes, snorting at his words.

“You two will be menaces to each other.”

Whenever Eddie felt vulnerable, angry or hurt, he’d put on a mask, he would hide his true feelings by putting on a front. He had never felt that need to do that with you, not until now.

He watches you with a weird feeling in his chest when you walk back to Steve.

Robin gives Eddie a pitiful look but the latter refuses to show how insecure or sad he is. He puts on a fake smile and looks over at Steve.

“I always wanted to take your girl for a ride.”

Steve’s head snaps towards him, halting his movements, he stops jingling with his car keys and gives Eddie a weird look.

“Excuse me?”

Robin and Chrissy look at you before they turn to each other, erupting into a fit of giggles at the double innuendo.

Eddie briefly glances at you before he nudges his chin into the direction of Steve’s BMW.

Steve squints his eyes, “yeah, keep dreaming, Munson.”

Eddie chuckles, “I will.”

“Wait, are we taking your car?” You ask, turning to Steve.

Robin mumbles something under her breath and Chrissy shushes her in response, nudging her shoulder.

“Can we talk, y/n?” Steve asks.

“Yeah, at the movies.”

You know exactly what he wants to talk about. He doesn’t want to intrude and he probably feels awkward to be around your friends.

“Come on.”

Steve sighs, knowing that you won’t take no for an answer, he just gestures for you all to get in his car. He expects you to take the passenger seat but instead, you take Eddie’s hand in yours and lead him to the passenger side.

“You can sit in the front,” you smile at Eddie as he looks down at you in confusion.

“I’ll sit in the back with Chris and Robin.”

“Uh–”

“Let’s go before the movie starts!” You say before anyone else can protest.

Eddie and Steve share a look, not a very excited or happy one, it’s more one of annoyance. Neither of them want to spend time with the other. But they get in the car nonetheless.

Chrissy and Robin get in as well, begrudgingly so.

“Are we still going out for pizza afterwards?” Robin asks, looking between Chrissy, Eddie and you.

Steve looks at you through the rearview mirror, seeing the way you scrunch your face up in disgust.

“Yeah, we can order some when we get back to my place,” you mumble, “I definitely need some McDonald's today though.”

Robin raises her brows in surprise, “what, is that hangover food for you or something?”

Chrissy chuckles beside her.

“Not exactly.”

No. It’s not your hangover food. Steve knows it. You only ever craved McDonald’s once a month.

“Hey Robin, did you tell y/n about your new job yet?” She asks, trying to ease the tension in the car.

Your lips part when you look over at your friend, “wait, what new job? You found something new?”

“Yes!” Robin says, pretending to be excited, “I’m starting next week.”

“Where?”

“Scoops Ahoy!”

Chrissy smiles, nodding in excitement.

Steve turns around, looking at you, surprised. His lips twitch and you almost laugh. Eddie glances between the two of you.

“Oh,” he furrows his brows, “the ice cream shop, huh?”

“Yup.”

Robin doesn’t even acknowledge him properly, just nods into his direction. Oh, this is going to be interesting.

“So, have you met your co-workers yet?” You ask.

She twists the rings on her fingers, shaking her head.

“Nope, I guess, I’ll meet them on monday.”

“You don’t have to,” you giggle.

“Huh?”

The look of confusion amuses even Steve.

You point your finger at Steve, who waves at Robin mockingly.

Her eyes widen, for a moment she looks shocked before she lets out a groan of annoyance, “you gotta be kidding me..”

“Hey there, co-worker,” Steve says, unable to hold back his chuckle.

She slumps back, looking very miserable before her eyes light up and she sits back up, “wait! Does that mean that you have to wear one of those sailor uniforms too?”

At that, Steve groans and looks away.

“Sailor uniforms?”

“Come by on monday and you’ll see Steve in a pair of skimpy sailor shorts,” Robin winks at you.

While you and Chrissy laugh and even Eddie joins in, smirking at Steve, “are you gonna wear some slutty shorts, Harrington?”

“Shut up,” Steve mumbles, closing his eyes.

“Alright, alright,” Robin mumbles, “can you start the car, dingus? We’re gonna miss the movie!”

“Yeah,” he sighs as he starts the car.

The drive to the movies wasn't the most joyful one you’ve been on. Eddie kept pestering Steve about his music choices. Steve kept rolling his eyes at him and Chrissy and Robin kept whispering to you.

‘Why is he here?’

‘Why did you invite him?’

‘Are you with him again?’

‘What about –’

You never got to hear the end of Robin’s question, Chrissy slapped her shoulder before she could finish it.

Walking into the movie theater has always been a nostalgic feeling to you, it always takes you back to your childhood. It’s oddly comforting. The smell of popcorn and butter makes your mouth water and you can’t wait to dig into the sweet treat.

After buying the tickets, Chrissy takes your hand and leads you over to the lounge area while the others go to buy the snacks.

The moment you take a seat, she starts bombing you with questions again. Rambling and throwing one after the other at you, not even giving you the chance to reply.

“Chrissy–”

“No, please don’t tell me that you’re getting back with him,” she says, crinkling your nose. She watched you cry over him more than once, even before the break up.

You shake your head, “no,” you mumble, taking a look at the others as they stand by the counter.

“I just – he’s different now.”

Chrissy scoffs at your words, rolling her eyes.

“Right, they all change when they get dumped.”

“He didn’t get dumped, he broke up with Nancy – and it doesn’t even matter! I don’t want to date him, I-I just, we’re friends now, I guess.”

Chrissy knows that Steve had always been more than just your boyfriend. He was your best friend, long before she became friends with you.

“I just don’t want him to hurt you again, y/n.”

You tilt your head and smile at her, “please, don’t worry about me. I won’t let that happen, not again. We’re friends. That’s all.”

She nods at your words and glances at the others. Steve and Eddie seem to be fighting about something, she can’t help but chuckle in amusement.

Eddie rolls his eyes at Steve, leaning closer to him to mock him about something.

“What’s so funny?”

She tilts her head at you, “well, I guess, Steve tagging along makes things more entertaining.”

With furrowed brows, you take a look at them – Eddie is holding a bag of popcorn in one hand, throwing some at Steve with the other.

“Guys!” You hear Robin’s annoyed voice.

You snort.

Robin is the first to come back, annoyance written all over her face,“they are so immature.”

She hands Chrissy the bag of popcorn and a box of Reese's pieces.

“They’re men, what do you expect?”

“You’re right,” Robin says to Chrissy.

“Sweetheart, tell Steve that you prefer salted popcorn,” Eddie says when he comes back, “he insisted on sweet popcorn.”

Steve rolls his eyes at Eddie, stopping next to him.

“Here we go again,” Robin mumbles under her breath.

Steve already knows your answer so he doesn’t even look at you expectedly. Eddie seems to look like he knows your answer too and he does, but today it isn’t the right one.

“Uh.” You get up and look at your best friend with an apologetic look in your eyes as you reach for the bag in Steve’s hand. “I’m sorry…”

Eddie’s eyes flash with confusion and his face falls. If you didn’t feel so guilty already, you would’ve been amused by the look of betrayal on his face. He is so dramatic. You’d be lying if you said that it’s something you don’t love about him though.

“W-What?” He scoffs as his lips set in a pout, “we always get salted popcorn!”

“Yeah and it’s my favorite but I’m craving something sweet today. I’m sorry, Ed’s.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and looks away from you, “and how did you know that?” He asks Steve.

Steve could have been smug about it, especially, seeing as it makes Eddie mad.

He shrugs, “it’s just something that we always used to get when we came here,” he lies.

Suddenly, you want to run, you want to escape. So you grab your purse and leave the group, pretending to look at the ticket that you were holding all this time. Chrissy gets up to follow you and so does Steve.

Robin and Eddie stay back though, glancing at each other.

It’s not that they hate him. They don’t. But they know what he did to you, they know how much he hurt you, how much you suffered because of him and he had done nothing to earn your trust back. He just weaseled his way back into your life and you let him.

And despite his jealousy and the fear of losing you, Eddie still isn’t as angry as Robin is – because he thinks about your words; ‘He’s alone, Eddie.’

Eddie and Robin follow the three of you, he watches you, he watches how you interact with Steve and Chrissy, laughing at something he said.

“I’m so fucking pissed,” Robin says.

“Why?” He asks but keeps his eyes on you.

“Because he will just hurt her again. I can’t believe she feels bad for him after the shit he did to her.”

“Well, can’t really fight her when she’s this stubborn,” Eddie shrugs.

“Yeah, but he doesn’t want to be friends with her – I mean, when Billy kissed her he was like all rough and shit, and then Heather – fuck, when Heather told me she kissed Steve, I was fuming!” She says, looking up as she groans in anger.

Eddie feels like someone had dropped a bucket of ice cold water over him. He freezes and halts in his tracks, eyes widening as he feels his heart sinking to his stomach.

“W-What?” Eddie mumbles.

Robin stops walking when she notices that Eddie is no longer beside her. She glances at the three of you before she turns back to him and sees the look of confusion and sadness in his eyes – fuck. She should have known. She should’ve known that you didn’t tell him. That is why you didn’t call him. That is why you didn’t pick up any of his calls.

“S-She kissed Steve a-and Billy?” He asks with widened eyes, “please, tell me you’re joking, Robin.”

Robin’s own eyes widen as well and she starts shaking her head wildly, “no! It was spin the bottle.”

A part of him feels relieved but the other part is still tense. His eyes begin to hurt.

He curses at himself for not being there last night. You wouldn’t have to kiss Billy if he was there, you wouldn’t have to kiss Steve.

“B-But it was just a game, right?”

A guilty feeling overcomes Robin and she already begins to regret that she even mentioned it.

She wants to say ‘yes, it was just a game’ but Robin was never a good liar and even if she tried, he would know that she is not telling the truth.

“It was just a game,” Eddie repeats, “her kissing Steve was just a game, right?”

He doesn’t even care about Billy, the kiss with him was just a game.

“Eddie–”

“Come on, Robin,” he mumbles, shakily.

He knows he has no right to be upset over a kiss. You are not even his to lose. But he always hoped, deep down, he always hoped that there might be a chance for him someday.

“She told me that he kissed her again afterwards – outside.”

Eddie’s shoulders slump, his heart feels heavy in his chest. He feels so stupid to think that you wouldn’t do this. You could only resist him for so long. Steve Harrington still has your heart after all.

“But Eddie, I don’t think that it meant anything to her. She rejected him and then came to find me.”

Her words do nothing to make him feel better.

Robin looks at him, anxiously. She knows how resentful Eddie can be when he’s hurt and by the look on his face, she knows that he is deeply hurt.

“Are you guys coming?” Chrissy asks, interrupting Robin who was just about to say something.

Eddie looks down with a clenched jaw. He doesn’t even want to be here anymore.

“Yeah. Come on, Eddie.”

Eddie follows begrudgingly. He knows that he shouldn’t feel that way. It shouldn’t hurt as much. You are still just friends after all, you are not his girlfriend, you are not his, your heart isn’t his.

You never gave any signs that you wanted him back, not even once.

He shouldn’t be this upset. He shouldn’t feel so jealous.

But it isn’t just the kiss or the kisses.

You have only spent one evening with Steve, kissed him twice and you are already distancing yourself from him. Ignoring him and his calls. He is already losing you.

His mood only gets worse when he finds you sitting next to him, giggling at something he said to you. He rolls his eyes and sits down on the other side of you.

You turn away from Steve and towards him, smiling at him, “hey.”

“Hey,” he grumbles.

He doesn’t even see the creased brows or the saddened look in your eyes, he’s staring at the white screen.

“How was the campaign last night?”

“Good.”

“Okay,” you mumble and lean back again, you frown in confusion. Is he this upset over some salted popcorn?

Steve looks over at Eddie, his jaw is clenched, he blinks faster than usual, he is pissed. He was pissed before but not like this, he seemed to have calmed down on the drive here and even while they were at the counter, buying snacks, he seemed fine and even laughed and teased him, now he just looks angry.

He glances at Robin who sits next to him, she is chewing on her bottom lip and bouncing her knee, completely ignoring Chrissy’s rambling. The room might be dark, but Steve can see the guilt in her eyes.

“Hey Robin,” he whispers.

She rolls her eyes at him, “what?”

“You didn’t tell Eddie about the kiss did you?” He whispers, careful that you aren’t listening.

She freezes a little and that is enough of an answer. Shit. Steve doesn’t really care about Eddie or about what he feels. He understands him but he still doesn’t care.

He cares about you. Back at your house, he saw the way you avoided Eddie’s eyes, the way you looked so scared and guilty, you were scared of his reaction that’s why you avoided him. You didn’t want him to know.

Now he knows and you don’t know that he does.

“Are you not gonna tell me about it?” Steve hears you asking him.

Eddie doesn’t even glance at you, he only leans further away from you.

“I would’ve told you if you picked up the fucking phone last night.”

You’re taken aback by the anger in his words, by the curse words that he never ever directed at you.

Normally, you would have said something but the guilt that you are still feeling makes you unable to talk. Besides, you are too intimidated to say anything back, scared that he will lash out on you because, clearly, he is deeply upset about something.

Steve watches how you turn away from him, you roll your eyes but the sadness gives away how hurt you are by Eddie’s attitude towards you.

Steve glares at Eddie, the urge to whack him across his curly head is strong.

He nudges your shoulder and gives you a soft smile when you look at him, “you okay?”

You hesitate, “...yes.”

Eddie narrows his eyes to look at the two of you and he keeps doing it during the whole movie.

Normally, you would comment on certain scenes, so would he. Normally, you would laugh together and you would lean your head on his shoulder, he would wrap his arm around you.

Today, he leans away from you and after a few attempts to talk to him or make him laugh, you give up when he keeps brushing you off. You lean away from him as well. He doesn’t comment on anything and neither do you anymore. He is still pissed and you are still tense, your mind is filled with thoughts that you don’t want to think about and despite the painkillers you took earlier, your stomach is still cramping. You are hurting today.

Despite the funny moments in the movie, you cannot laugh, in fact, you feel like crying – whether it’s your period making you overly emotional or just Eddie.

Eddie is giving you the cold shoulder and it hurts, it fucking hurts.

He had never done anything like that to you before.

You have been close friends for almost a year now and not once had he said or done anything to hurt you. But now, he is giving you the silent treatment, the cold shoulder and you can’t stand it because it’s something that Steve used to do to you.

Whenever he was upset about something, he wouldn’t talk, he wouldn’t tell you what was going on in his mind, he wouldn’t tell you what you did wrong, he would simply give you the cold shoulder and ignore you for the rest of the day.

And now Eddie is doing the same to you.

Eddie who you thought would never do this.

The moment the credits start rolling, you jump up from the seat and push past Eddie. You rush out of the room after making up some excuse that you have to use the bathroom.

“Is she okay?” Chrissy asks Eddie.

“How would I know?” He snaps at her and gets up as well, leaving the others behind as he makes his way out as well.

Chrissy scrunches her face up and looks at Robin, “what’s gotten into him?”

“Jesus..” Steve runs his fingers through his hair, “what a brat.”

“Who?” Chrissy asks as she takes a proper look at his face for the first time today, “Eddie?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re right,” she mutters under her breath as she gets up, “I can’t believe I’d ever agree with you.”

Steve isn’t offended by her words. He knows that your friends never liked him and he doesn’t blame them. They have always been protective of you and of your feelings, something that he wasn’t when you were dating.

“Let’s just go,” Robin says, “I need the pizza now.”

After some internal pep talk and five minutes of trying to keep yourself from breaking down, you leave the bathroom and step back into the empty hallway – almost empty hallway. You are almost startled by his presence. Out of all your friends, you didn’t expect to see him waiting for you.

You halt in your tracks. He is looking at you the same way he did when he just came to your place.

Eddie looks at your eyes, he notices the glassiness right away, whether you cried or not, he feels awful, despite the jealousy and the anger that he is still feeling.

“Who pissed in your coffee this morning?” You finally snap at him.

If he wasn’t so on edge already, he would’ve laughed and he would’ve loved the cute frown on your face.

If he didn’t have a sleepless night, he maybe wouldn’t have been so pissed but the sleepless night was your fault.

Even through the angry haze, he can see how beautiful you look today – you always look beautiful but something about the way you look today makes his heart race even faster. Maybe it’s the new skirt or maybe it’s the way you did your makeup or the fact that you are wearing his ring – you always wear it but, somehow, it means even more to him that you are wearing it today, even after the kiss with him.

Eddie never gets to answer your question.

Your friends join the two of you and interrupt your little tense moment.

“Let’s go, we’re gonna order some pizza.”

You tear your eyes away from his, sighing as you walk past him.

“Yeah, can we order? I don’t feel like eating there.”

Robin and Chrissy nod. They pull you away from Eddie and Steve.

Both men stay behind for a moment, Eddie looks at the ground, a mixture of guilt and anger still deep in his features.

Steve wants to say something and he opens his mouth but decides against it. Anything that he will say, will only anger the metalhead even further and he doesn’t want to risk making things worse.

So he turns around and walks away.

You are surprised to see Robin and Steve sharing a knowing look when you all get back into his car, they both take a look at Eddie, who is silent, unlike on the drive here.

Chrissy leans closer to you, she cups her hand over her mouth, “did something happen between you and Eddie?” She whispers, giving you a look of concern and confusion.

You shake your head at her and shrug. You are just as confused.

Her eyes soften when she sees the worry and the hurt in your eyes, she gives you a sad smile and takes ahold of your hand, trying to comfort you.

Your lips twitch, you squeeze her hand back before you turn away, looking out the window instead.

The day started off good, the sun was shining and the breeze was warm but, just like your mood, the weather had taken a turn for the worse. The clouds appeared like dark shadows over the pretty blue sky and the breeze turned into a harsh wind. It isn’t raining yet but you know it’s about to start falling any minute.

Somehow, the weather always matches your mood.

“I thought we were getting pizza?”

You were so focused on watching the clouds move, you didn’t pay attention to where you were driving.

Your eyes light up a little when you see the McDonald’s sign.

“Y/n doesn’t want pizza,” Steve says as he pulls into the drive through, “she wanted burgers.”

For a moment, you forget about Eddie’s anger, the pain in your stomach or the guilt. Your eyes widen and a smile tugs at your lips, you have been craving burgers and fries all day.

“Oh! Fries too, please, Stevie!”

You don’t hear Eddie’s scoff over Steve’s chuckle, “I know, dolly.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and clenches his fist.

“Does anyone want anything?”

Eddie mumbles a ‘no’.

Robin simply shakes her head and Chrissy leans closer to Robin to look out the window, reading the menu board.

“Oh, can I have a strawberry milkshake?” Chrissy asks shyly, already reaching for the walled in her purse but you stop her, placing your hand over hers.

“I got it, Chris.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Steve mumbles, looking over his shoulder, he glances at you both, “I’ll pay.”

She raises her brows, forcing a smile as she mumbles a quiet ‘thanks’.

Robin is awfully quiet and you just notice it now when Chrissy leans back and you get to take a look at her. She keeps running her fingers through her hair, looking out the window with tense shoulders, just like Eddie.

What the hell is going on?

Chrissy looks just as clueless as you though.

When Steve hands you the bag and the milkshake, a few minutes later, you almost squeal in excitement. Chrissy laughs at the look on your face and takes the milkshake from your hand.

“Do you wanna share?” She asks, offering you the drink after taking the paper off the straw.

“No thanks, I need the fries now.” You rip open the bag, the smell of greasy food makes your mouth water, “I’m so hungry,” you mumble as you reach for the fries.

“Want some?” You ask Chrissy and Robin, “I’ll share, it’s too much for me anyways.”

Robin shakes her head, “nah, I’ll wait for the pizza.”

Chrissy takes some, “you’re missing out, Robin.”

“Right?” You mumble through a mouthful, “you gotta dip them, Chris.”

“Not in a strawberry milkshake though!” She laughs, “it’s gotta be vanilla.”

Steve glances at you through the rearview mirror. His heart flutters when he sees the smile on your face.

“Do you guys want some?” You ask, offering some to Steve and Eddie.

“It’s all yours, hangry,” Steve chuckles, using an old nickname.

“I’m not hangry!” You slap his shoulder.

“You want some Eddie?” You ask softly.

He shakes his head, continuing to give you the cold shoulder. So he really is mad at you. Eddie never says no to fries, he steals some from your plate every time you go out to eat – or he finishes the ones that are left on your plate when you get too full to finish eating them yourself.

You exhale and slump back in your seat, feeling sad all over again.

You look down at the fries, suddenly, not feeling as hungry as you did before. Still, you continue snacking on the fries, choosing to save the burger for later.

Chrissy looks at you worriedly when you frown and look down at your food, sadly, not as happy as you did a few moments back. She knows that you had been struggling in the past few months, you haven’t been eating as much and whenever you do, you quickly lose your appetite. Whether it’s the past memories that take away your appetite or something else – you have a problem. A problem that Eddie usually tries to help you with.

She doesn’t know what happened but she can’t help but glare at the metalhead.

But Robin is acting off too, so when you finally arrive back at your place and you all walk into your house. Chrissy takes Robin’s hand and pulls her away to the dining room to talk to her.

“We’re gonna order the pizza!” Chrissy shouts as they disappear in the hallway.

“Uh – okay.”

Throwing your cardigan and your purse on the dresser, you walk into the living room.

“Should I get some drinks?” Steve asks you, following you.

“I can do it–”

“No, sit down, I’ll get some,” Steve mumbles, giving you a smile before he walks past you, disappearing in the kitchen.

You reach for the remote to turn on some music on the TV, you always need the background noise, even in a room full of people. From the corner of your eye, you see him. You are surprised that he’s still here, you figured that he’d take his van and leave the moment Steve parked the car in your driveway.

A part of you wants to say something but the other part doesn’t. You don’t want to give him the silent treatment back, you are just scared of his explanation.

On the way home, you kept trying to figure out what made him so angry.

Did he know about the kiss? Did Robin tell him? Is he upset about that?

Even if he knows, he can’t be upset about it – even when you think about what Nancy said to you, it still makes no sense. Why would he be upset? You aren’t together. You are not his girlfriend.

Then again, it doesn’t explain your guilty feeling either. Just like you aren’t his, he isn’t yours. You have no reason to feel so guilty about kissing Steve – you can kiss whoever you want.

Besides, you went on a date with Ray and even kissed him before he turned into a major douchebag – Eddie never got upset about the fact that you wanted to go on a date. So he can’t be upset about this either, right?

It has to be something else.

Is he sick of you?

Did he finally realize that you aren’t worth his time?

Did he have a sudden change of heart just like Steve did when he went from loving boyfriend to awful boyfriend overnight?

Did your radio silence piss him off that much?

He is still standing by the doorway.

You can’t help but roll your eyes at him and of course, it doesn’t go unnoticed by him. You still don’t say anything though, too afraid to make things worse.

The tugging in your chest gets even worse, if that is even possible.

“What’s wrong, dolly?”

All appetite is lost the moment you hear the mocking in his voice. You still blame your emotions on your period but deep down, you know that it’s not that.

You feel the coil in your throat, the hollow feeling in your stomach and the sickness in your chest. You don’t know whether you want to throw up or break into tears.

You can’t take this, not from him.

His words weren’t even bad or offending in any way but to hear the tone in his voice, to receive the cold shoulder from someone who you wouldn’t hesitate to give your everything to, makes you feel like you’re taken back to Halloween – where it all fell apart.

“Did you have fun last night?”

His question makes you frown. For the first time, you look at Eddie with a glare.

“I did.”

“Yeah, I figured,” he scoffs and looks away.

What the hell?

Chrissy and Robin walk into the room, both looking a little tense.

“Uh, pizza is ordered,” Chrissy says awkwardly.

She notices your heavy breathing and the way you are blinking quickly. The way you keep glancing at Eddie who refuses to look at you.

Steve comes back into the room with a few cans of coke, he places them on the small table. Steve’s presence seems to anger Eddie even further and Chrissy is starting to get annoyed by the attitude that spawned out of nowhere.

“Hey, are you okay?” Chrissy asks you.

Eddie is not looking at you. He isn’t even glancing at you. He doesn’t care. Why doesn’t he care anymore? What happened?

Your eyes burn. You can’t sit here any longer, you get up and walk away.

“Hey, do you not want to eat your food?” Steve asks, pointing to the takeout on the table.

“Not hungry,” you mumble.

“But, you haven’t eaten all day!”

Suddenly, Eddie feels even worse than he did before. He let his anger control him, all fucking day.

Steve sees your trembling lip and the tears in your eyes when you look back for a split second before you brush past Eddie and disappear into the hallway.

Chrissy calls out for you, jumping up from the couch, she runs after you, bumping into Eddie on purpose with a death glare.

He looks down with a sigh.

Steve has had enough of his behavior. He shakes his head in disbelief before he walks over to him, startling Eddie by grabbing his shoulder roughly, pushing him forward.

“What the fuck, dude?” Eddie snaps at him, trying to push Steve’s hands off of him but the latter has a strong grip on him and he pushes him towards the entrance, ripping the door open, he pushes him out.

For a moment, Eddie thinks that he’s getting kicked out.

Robin jumps up, looking panicked as she watches them both leaving the house. She follows behind, opening the door that Steve just slammed shut.

“What the hell is your problem?” Eddie asks, pushing Steve’s hands off with force.

“What’s my problem?” Steve chuckles in disbelief, pointing to himself.

Eddie scoffs and looks away.

“Get your fucking jealousy in check before you keep hurting her!” Steve yells over the harsh rain that is falling.

“She is not – I-I’m not..”

“Yes, you fucking are. You were fine before the movie, so I’m guessing you –” he points at Robin, who breaks eye contact right away and slumps, “told him something and I have a pretty fucking good idea of what it is!”

Eddie’s shoulders slump, he looks down, his eyes are burning.

“It’s just–” Eddie’s words get cut short because what can he say? How can Eddie tell him he is mad because he can’t compare himself to Steve Harrington? How can he tell him that he isn’t just jealous but also hurting? How can Eddie say anything at all when he has no chance whatsoever?

For a split second, Steve is able to see through Eddie, the look in his eyes gives it all away.

“Eddie,” he sighs, hurting himself with what he is about to say. He could lie to him, he could leave it all like this, be your knight in shining armor and pick you up after today but he won’t use Eddie’s insecurities and your vulnerability to weasel his way back into your heart.

Steve looks up, taking a deep breath.

“She pushed me away when I kissed her and I think we all know why.”

Eddie’s eyes widen.

“Now get your ass up there and fix it,” Steve says angrily.

A million questions run through Eddie’s mind but now is not the time to ask them. Steve won’t take no for an answer. He simply nods before he walks back into the house.

Robin crosses her arms over her chest, she is impressed by Steve. She’s a little surprised, she expected a fight to break out, she didn’t expect this to be cut… so short.

“Good job, Dingus.”

He rolls his eyes at her, “let’s get inside.”

Chrissy is standing in front of the bathroom door, leaning against it as she keeps trying to convince you to come out.

“Please, y/n,” she sighs, softly.

Eddie eyes the cheerleader warily, for someone with such a kind face, she sure gave him the kind of death glare that even intimidated him.

He takes a deep breath.

“Can I try?”

She turns around at the sound of his voice, snapping her head up with a frown. Her brows knit together, her mouth twists and she rolls her eyes but steps away from the door nonetheless.

“Yeah,” she mumbles, “don’t mess it up, Munson.”

That is a threat. Yeah, with the look on her face, it definitely is a threat.

He really messed up.

He knocks on the door softly, closing his eyes as he tries to calm his breathing.

“Sweetheart,” he speaks with a much gentler voice than before, “can we talk?”

Silence.

“Please?”

He opens his eyes when the faint click of the lock sounds through the hallway. He grabs the doorknob and twists it, he opens the door and steps inside. You are sitting on the edge of the bathtub, wiping away the tears that keep rolling down your cheeks – because of him.

But why? Why would you cry over him?

You look up at him with glossy eyes and you rise to your feet.

“D-Do you hate me Eddie?”

His eyes widen and he shakes his head quickly.

Eddie doesn’t even hesitate, he immediately pulls you into a tight hug. His own heart breaks, not once in his life did he think he would hurt you but, here he was, causing you pain because of his own selfishness.

He can feel you clinging to him, your arms are wrapped tightly around him, your tears are seeping through his shirt but he doesn’t mind.

“No baby, you didn’t do anything wrong. I was just being stupid,” he sighs, not even noticing the nickname that rolled off his tongue so naturally.

“I don’t want to lose you, Eddie.”

The trembling in your voice and the sadness makes his heart hurt even more.

Not once in his life was anyone ever scared to lose him, yet, here you are, the girl that he loves, scared to lose him. You could have anyone, you could have Steve but you are scared to lose him.

Whether it’s platonically or not – you are scared to lose him and that has to mean something.

“You won’t lose me, I promise, you won’t,” he whispers and kisses the top of your head. “I’m so sorry – fuck,” he blinks his own tears away, hating himself for what he did. “I’m such an asshole.”

You only hug him tighter in response.

“No, you’re not,” you mumble, “just don’t do it again.”

“I won’t. I promise, I won’t.”

“I’m so–”

“Stop apologizing. Just hold me,” you mumble into his chest, “we can talk later.”

“Okay,” he whispers, hugging you even tighter.

This is what you need. To be held and comforted by him.

You lean your chin on his chest and look up at him, “will you stay with me tonight?”

For some reason, your question has him stunned.

You have had sleepovers before, many sleepovers in fact. But, something feels different. He doesn’t know what it is but something has shifted.

Something has shifted between the two of you after last night, he felt it earlier already and he feels it now as well.

His heart thumps wildly in his chest and he’s sure that you can feel it because he can feel yours.

“Yeah, I’ll stay with you.”

tagging mutuals

@taintedcigs @mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @corrodedcorpses @corrodedseraphine @xxhellfirebunnyxx @take-everything-you-can @trashmouth-richie @sherrylyn628 @nemesis729 @succubusmunson @chrissymjstan @somethingvicked

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson angst #stranger things angst

855 notes · View notes

marleyybluu · 3 months

Text

Glasses

Husband!Oscar x black!wife!reader

Word count: 2k

Content warning: fluffy fluffy, Oscar is a stubborn husband, a little sexy flirtatiousness at the end, just your typical married couple and we love it, reader is hot for Oscar and his glasses (I mean I would be too tf)

A/N: bare in mind that i don’t have glasses idk how the process goes lmao I just made shit up so sorry if it’s not accurate I guess. Who cares we’re in make believe land rn

Sorry for typos && bad translations if any

(I know these aren’t glasses glasses but… you get it lmao)

"Mama..." Rafa says poking your arm, you look down at him and smile. "Yes?"

"Why is Dad making that face?" He asks pointing over to Oscar who's holding his phone down in his lap with his head tilted up slightly so that he can see the screen better. You shook your head. That old bastard was a stubborn one. You have noticed for months now that Spooky is squinting to read everything, he's holding things at certain angles just the see the words correctly. He even has the kids reading things for him when he flat-out can't make out any of the words.

And of course, you've confronted him about it, saying if he wanted you could schedule an appointment with an optometrist and get his vision checked but he tells you— "No, mamita, I'm fine."

Stubborn Jack ass.

You roll your eyes and sigh dramatically. "Mi hijo, maybe you can talk some sense into your big-headed father. Because he won't listen to me." You say loud enough for your husband to hear. He grumbles and looks over at you, so tempted to say something disrespectful but your son is there. You wiggle your eyebrows taunting him.

"Papa, I think you need gafas."(glasses)

Spooky breathes heavily like a dragon, you swear smoke comes out of his nose too. "Mira, baby, let me just take you to check your eyes. If I'm wrong I'll eat my words and do anything you want."

His ears perk up at the offer. "Anything?"

And you knew what that tone meant. Spooky had been asking for another baby sooner rather than later but you constantly rebuttal with the fact that your third child, Emilia, was only a year old and you refused to have two under two. "Yes, anything." You reply confidently knowing you'd win this battle. He says it's a deal and you smile proudly keeping a reminder to make his appointment later.

-- --

In the days leading up to the appointment, he swore up and down that you'd be wrong, that you'll soon be walking around with a round belly all over again and he couldn't wait to see it. You remain quiet and shrug, occasionally giggling at how cocky he was about this.

After dropping the kids off at your mom's, you two head over to the Optometrist. You're pleasantly greeted by the woman at the front desk who asks you who the appointment is for. Oscar finds himself a seat and huffs like a child. You roll your eyes and mention his name. "I'm assuming you made the appointment." She smiles light-heartedly. "That obvious?"

"Trust me, I've got one at home whose chain I have to pull to even get him to the doctor. They're all like that."

You giggle and look over your shoulder at him as he pouts and looks at his new shoes. The receptionist says she'll let the doctor know you two were there and be back to guide you to a room. You take a seat next to Oscar who immediately puts his hand on your thigh, squeezing at your supple flesh. "So, what do you think the next baby will be? I hope it's a boy, I can't lie."

"Will you shut the fuck up? You are not winning this bet, Diaz."

He looks around before trailing his hand up your dress, your eyes widen when his fingers brush over your panties. "Who you talkin' to like that? Don't let this bet get you fucked up."

You swallow your attitude and shrink in the chair, he removes his hand and gently kisses your temple. Maybe he'd get another baby out of you regardless.

It wasn't long before you two were called in. Once in the room, Oscar was told to sit in the chair that was hooked up to everything while you sat in the extra chair not too far from them. He starts by asking Oscar about his medical history; and if anyone in his family has problems with their vision but he says, "Not as far as I know."

You watch as he's asked to read the chart across the room and he instinctively squints, you cover your mouth to stop your giggles.

Even with the act of squinting he ends up getting a lot of them wrong.

He's tested furthermore and, honestly, it was not looking too good. He was struggling so much that it was truly getting to him, his nails scape at the jeans over his knee caps-- taps them once in a while whenever he lets out a frustrated sigh. You were beginning to feel bad for him, wanting to whisper the letters to him so he didn't feel so... shitty.

The lights in the room turn on and the optometrist sits in his chair. "Mr. Diaz, unfortunately, I do think you'll need some prescription glasses. You are more farsighted in your right eye than you are in your left. The left eye seems to be fine for now. So, I will put in an order for a pair of lenses and when they're ready we'll give you a call to pick out the frames."

Oscar sighs, he sounds so defeated. You two thank the doctor and make your way out of the office building and back to the car. He sucks his teeth while buckling his seatbelt, he crosses his arms and waits for you to put the car in drive but you don't budge. "Why are you acting like this?"

He shrugs. "Let's just go."

"No. What are you upset about?"

"I'm old."

There was a moment of silence, took you a a minute to realize he was serious. "I'm old, mama. I can't see shit, I'm tired, I'm cranky. I'm fucking old. Next thing you know I can't play with my kids, can't play Fútbol con Rafa, dios mio." (Soccer with Rafa, my God)

He was genuinely spiralling. "Papito, I hate to break it to you but we're supposed to get old." You say to him but it (obviously) doesn't help.

"Lo sé, mi amor, pero, they still have to make it to middle school and high school, I gotta see them through college."

"Who says you won't? Mi marido, (my husband) we will be there for all of their events, for all the big changes. We will still be there when they all leave the nest to create their own, and when they come back to visit." You reassure. "I'll still be next to you in a rocking chair. We are not going anywhere, anytime soon. Entiendes? No hay prisa." (Understand? No rush)

He nods, still pouting. You lean over and plant a loving kiss on his lips. "If you ask me you will make a sexy Abuelo. Glasses and all."

"En serio?" A little bit of confidence coming back to him.

"Sí, papi chulo." You purr pulling him in for another kiss. "You know we have a lot of time before we got to get the kids." He grumbles his lips travelling down your neck. "Let's go before you get us in trouble in this parking lot."

He shrugs. "Wouldn't be the first time."

You laugh. "I know, I don't want to relive it."

-- --

Days passed and Oscar finally got the call to pick up his lenses and choose the frames, you offered to go with him but he said he wanted to surprise you. You'd been waiting all day excited to see what would walk through the door.

You sighed flipping through the selections on Prime, the house was quiet with the kids either distracted or sleeping and you were bored-- until you heard the car door slam shut and his keys jingle right outside the door. The door swings open but he doesn't enter, not yet. He calls out for you and when you answer all too eagerly he chuckles at your excitement. "You been waitin' on this all day?" He asks.

"Yes, hurry the fuck up." You rush. He appears from behind the door and stands with his arms slightly open. "Cómo me veo?" (How do I look?) He asks. Your eyes widen and your jaw slacks. They were simple black frame glasses, they weren't obnoxiously thick or oddly small, and they were good enough to fit him. You sit up on your knees and lean over the back of the couch. "You look... good. Muy guapo, papito." You slur feeling a heat spread in your lower belly. His eyebrows raise in surprise, he knows that look anywhere.

"Quierida..."

"Oscar... " You had the filthiest line ready for him to hear until a pair of footsteps descended from the steps. "Whoooooa! Elliana, Mira! Papa got glasses!" Rafa announces rushing down the stairs to get a better look and shortly another set of little feet made their way over. The two children were so interested in what was on their father's face and how different he looked. "Can you see better?" Elliana asks and he smiles giving her a sweet kiss on her head. "Sí, mi corazón. Thanks for asking."

Rafa turns to you. "Mama, doesn't Dad's glasses look cool?"

Their eyes were on you but you could feel the taunting nature of your husband's eyes. "Yeah... mhm, he looks... they look-k good." You stammer causing Oscar to smirk.

He had seemingly found an upper hand on you with these glasses and he wasn't afraid to use it over the next week. He had them on even when he didn't need them to see that look on your face— the lust, the adoration— your pupils seem to expand whenever you see him in those spectacles. He just looked fucking hot.

It was the best when he walked around in his grey sweats, alone, with no shirt. Just his tattoos and glasses to complete his look and you ate it up every time. You tug on your bottom lip as you paint the picture in your mind. But why imagine, when you can just go see. The house was quiet, all the kids were sound asleep, you shifted out of bed as carefully as you could to not wake Emilia. Once you are successful you grab the baby monitor and creep downstairs, the television is off and the whole first floor is dark-- the only form of light shines through the windows courtesy of the moon.

"Why the fuck would you do that!?"

Ah yes, of course, he was in his habitat. The basement. You sneak your way down to see that the ceiling light is off and he just has the ones around his monitors on, though they are bright enough for her to see where she's going. His back is turned and he's so zoned in that your presence goes unnoticed for quite some time. You cross your arms and dramatically clear your throat to let him know you're here. "Yall give me a minute, wifey is here." You can hear the collective; "Hi wifey!" "Hola señiorita!" "What's good Mrs. Spooky?"

You smile and greet them right back before he mutes his mic. "What's up?" He spins his chair to give you his full attention. "Emilia's awake?"

You shake your head. "No, she's still sleeping. Just came to hang out." Your eyes ogle the print in his sweats. He follows your line of sight and chuckles. "You sure?"

"Mhm." You swing your leg over his legs and perch yourself on his lap. "I mention how fucking good you look in these glasses?" You purr leaning in. "They havin' an effect on you, ma. That I can see." He hums ghosting your lips with his. "And that's why you should listen to your esposa (wife)more."

Your lips finally meet and it's not long before you two are practically nibbling at each other with a mutual desperation to end the sexual tension that's been created over time. "Let me hop off the game-"

"No, it's okay. They can't see you right?" You smirk gnawing at his jaw. "No, they can't."

You reach between your bodies and slide your hand into his sweats. Oscar reaches up to adjust his glasses and when they begin to fog up he cleans them off and reaches to put them on his desk when you stop him.

"The glasses stay on, Diaz."

if you liked this fic, feel free to like this fic, reblogs and comments are appreciated. peace and love, see you in the next one🤙🏾

🏷️: @darqchilddaydreamz @educatorsareslutstoo @realhotgurlshit @bigenergy777

#fluff #spooky fanfic #marleywrites #marleysfanfictions #on my block fanfiction #spooky #on my block #spooky x black!reader #husband!oscar #oscar diaz x black!reader

182 notes · View notes

laniluvsuu · 9 months

Text

Everything.

a/n: apologizing in advance for typos!!😣

NerdbfArmin! X Blackfemreader!

You loved everything about your boyfriend. You even loved how quiet he is around other people that aren’t you. And the first time Armin realized he was in love with you was when you gave him his own personal spa day. He still has the picture of you as his screensavers.

“Come on Minny, pleaseee. I promise you’ll be so relaxed, you’ll love it I swear!” You begged the blonde. Looking up to him with doe eyes, waiting for his answer.

“Baby…” Armin dragged out, throwing his head back before looking back down at you and nodding at you. He smiled at you once you reached up and kissed all over his face.

“Yes Min!! Okay go sit down!” You said as you walked away from him into your bathroom to grab the supplies you were gonna use for his little spa night.

When you came out of the bathroom with your first activity, you saw Armin sitting down on your bed on his phone which was sitting on his chest. You smiled as you walked over to him and climbed onto your bed sitting down to play background R&B music on your tv.

“Mk Min, so first we’re gonna do your eyebrows?” You said in a question hoping he wouldn’t say no. He just nodded sitting his phone down once he felt you straddle him.

You smiled as you took his glasses off of his face and went to work on his eyebrows, his hands tightened on your thighs every couple of minutes. When you finish on his eyebrows you looked at your work and started smiling so hard.

“Armin omg. You look so good!!!” You said hyping up your boyfriend as you watched his smile grow as his cheeks turned a rosie pink.

You let your fingers smooth over his eyebrows while saying “baby you’re so pretty, prettier than any girl I’ve ever seen.” You said staring at him with your sparkling brown eyes.

You watched his cheeks turn darker while he gently grabbed your neck from behind, making you now lay on his chest while he hid his flustered face from yours.

“Okay baby come on, time for face masks.” You said kissing his face and getting up and walking into the bathroom with him following close behind. You grabbed the strawberry Hello Kitty face masks and gave him his, you then pushed yourself up to sit on your bathroom counter. He watched you for a little bit before placing his face mask on the bathroom counter next to you, and saying.

“No mama, you do it for me.” He said sounding sleepy, while he wrapped his arms around your waist and placed his forehead on top of yours, his water colored eyes looking down into yours. You smiled up at him and nodded while you leaned in for a kiss which he happily accepted.

Once you pulled away you reached over to grab his face mask which made him lift his head up and you sit up straight so you both were about the same height.

“You tired baby?” You asked him watching him nod at your question as you started gently applying his face mask which made his whine because of how cold it is. You giggled at him as you finished putting it on his face. Once you were done you grabbed your pink face roller to smooth it out on his face.

Once you were done with his you did yours, and watched his look at himself in the mirror before his eyes switched to your face, to watch you put on your matching face mask with nothing but love and adoration in his eyes.

A/n: I’m obsessed with him.

#xblackreader #aot x black reader #black reader #hes so fine #black writers #aot fluff #armin x black reader #armin fluff #armin arlert #blackreader fluff #anime x black!reader #anime x black reader #attack on titan x black reader #inbox is open #give requests pls!

618 notes · View notes

infamous-if · 11 months

Text

I know, I know. It took 2 months to write the second drabble from the poll but...this is not even a drabble anymore. Instead, it's more of a collection of scenes mostly because if I do write how Orion found and began managing the band it would be an entire chapter. I will say that I condensed this due to that, but if I ever do write the whole thing it might look a *little* different. I had to cut corners and shorten scenes for the sake of length. Still, hope you like it! (This is 4, 363 words btw. what is wrong with me) I should probably find a more efficient way to share such long works but whatevs. As always, ignore any mistakes or typos or wordy sentences or sentences that probably make no sense upon reading it a second time. I don't edit drabbles and I always just publish the first drafts. haha.

“…Love me and hate me, I don’t mind as long as you take me—”

A low grumble rises in Orion’s throat when the song pauses, the car falling into an unfamiliar silence just as it slows in front of a red light. His large hands tighten their grip on the wheel, and his eyes glide to his co-worker, Marty, just as he’s pulling his hand away from the PAUSE button on the console.

“Is there a reason you’re touching my stuff?” Orion asks, his voice carrying its usual calm that holds a level of ice that has even his superiors shuddering when they think he’s not looking.

Marty licks his lips, his face twisting into its usual expression of guilt. Orion softens his face for his friend’s sake.

Orion Quinn knows the impact he has on people. The rumors that plague him have reached his ears on multiple occasions; he’s a shell of what he once was, never having gotten over the one who got away. He’s detached, the merciless worker that the boss goes to when he’s in need of someone who can do the firing.

He’s the one people are afraid of crossing or talking casually to in fear of letting something slip. People fear him more than they fear the execs.

It wasn’t always like this, sure. Once, Orion used to smile freely, used to talk openly and wear vulnerability like a favorite coat. But then the divorce happened and sides were taken. Suddenly, the armor he didn’t know he had was reinforced, dented and bruised from a battle he didn’t expect to fight, but reinforced nonetheless.

Never date your co-workers.

“The song is terrible, man.” Marty sighs, running a hand through his oily brown hair when he plops back in the seat. The same seat he pushed back at a 120-degree angle. Admittedly, it makes Orion’s nerves flare up. He says nothing; he has enough self-awareness to know that complaining about his seat is a bit too much, even for him. “I was doing both our ears a favor.”

The light changes and Orion absently drums his fingers on the wheel as he drives on ahead, eyes gliding outside to soak in the densely populated street underneath the rising sun. “Yeah.” The word comes out in a resigned breath. “I was hoping it’d get better.”

“We were on the bridge,” Marty throws back. “The only way it could get better is if it ended.” Orion’s lip twitches and of course, Marty can’t let it go. ”Oh! That was an almost-smile.” He leans forward to poke Orion’s rib.

Orion lets out a laugh before his face quickly drops.

Marty grins, plopping his elbow on the ledge of the car door. “All I’m saying is you’ve been listening to demos nonstop this whole month. Not once have I seen you even mildly excited for any of them.”

Orion grits his teeth. “I haven’t had anything substantial to show the team in ages. Our last artist pulled out on signing with us last minute. Our established artists aren’t selling as well anymore. The industry is getting oversaturated—“

“—and we need to be ahead of the curve. Yadda, yadda.” Marty rolls his eyes. “Do you ever just relax? Damn. That stick up your ass is ten-feet lon—“

Marty chokes on his words when Orion’s eyes cut to his. “Say anything else and I’m kicking you out of my car.”

Marty pouts but relents anyway, choosing to change the subject. “What about dating?”

Orion keeps his eyes on the road but quirks a brow. “What about it?”

“You know…” Marty starts, gesticulating vaguely as he searches for the right words. “Maybe putting yourself out there could help you relax. Or even inspire you—“

“No.”

“What? Okay, but—"

“Not interested.”

“You didn’t even know what I was going to sa—“

“Don’t have to.”

Marty huffs and says nothing for a long moment. Neither of them rush to fill the silence; normal for Orion but unusual for his infinitely more talkative friend. It’s only when he pulls into Carolina Records’ parking lot that Marty speaks again and Orion realizes his silence was really just contemplation.

“I know the divorce was difficult,” he starts, delicate, “but—“

Orion’s jaw clenches.

“— that doesn’t mean you should give up.”

Orion sits there a moment, fingers clenching into fists. “It’s not giving up if I never tried in the first place.” He swings open the door and steps out, the car door slamming with a hint of finality.

. . .

Carolina Records boasts a twenty-floor skyscraper made up of floor-to-ceiling glass windows and sleek, dark marble floor. Orion has been here since he graduated college; going from a measly intern to an A&R representative responsible for finding two of the most promising artists in the company.

That was a year ago. Since then, the well of new talent has dried up and Orion doesn’t know what to do.

Of course, he was offered higher positions, all of which he quickly denied. Orion always had a knack for numbers and trends, discovering what new genre is going to come to the forefront, seeing what kind of music the general public is listening to. Music: he understands it better than people. His understanding is almost clinical: while people listen to it for enjoyment, Orion seeks the patterns, the feelings that every beat and scale and vocal run they invoke. He takes it apart and puts it together like a surgeon does a patient. It just makes sense to him.

He could do so much more, he knows that, but none of that interests him.

The music—that’s what he likes.

Discovering new talent is what excites him. Which is why this odd dry spell has him walking with gritted teeth and tension between his shoulders-blades. He has to do something.

“Mr. Quinn.”

Orion nods at a woman who passes by the hallway, ignoring the way Marty does a whole spin when he tracks her retreating frame down the hall.

Another one. This time a man from the marketing department. “Good Morning, Mr. Quinn.”

“Morning.”

Marty scoffs when the man continues walking, not sparing him a glance.

“Am I chopped liver or something?” Marty complains.

“Mr. Quinn, hey!”

“Hi.” Orion nods his head once and presses the elevator button. When his eyes land on a frowning Marty he says, “You’re just not sociable.”

“Huh?!” Marty then lets out an embarrassingly high-pitched sputter of a laugh. “And you are?”

Orion frowns. “Yes.”

Another laugh. “You’re smart, dude, you know it’s more because of that”— he gestures vaguely at him—“than your social skills.”

The elevator doors open with a cheerful bell and they step inside. “What?”

“You know.” Marty shrugs. “Your face. You look like you should be on a billboard advertising overpriced cologne with your shirt unbuttoned and your hand in your hair talking about your luxurious life or something.”

“That’s…specific.”

Marty shrugs. “I read a lot of GQ.”

Orion wrinkles his nose when they spin to face the doors. “While it is true I would be considered objectively handsome by societal standards—“

“Oh, fuck off.”

“—I don’t think that’s the case.” This time Orion lets out a small smile. “Or maybe it is?” He quirks a brow at his co-worker. “Should I send a gift basket to my parents? A ‘thank-you-for-the-superior-DNA gift?’”

Marty shakes his head. “You know, when you do try to be funny you still sound like an asshole.”

Orion hums, the joke tickling him enough for him to let out his first smile of the day.

The elevator doors sing their arrival and they bid farewell once they part to go to their respective offices. Orion strides to his corner office where another one of his co-workers, Kass, is standing with a box in her hands.

“This week’s demos.” Orion is just putting his arms out when she plops the boxes on them. “You should really stop requesting unsolicited demos. It’s such an outdated way of doing things.”

Orion ignores her and unlocks his office door, turning the knob and pushing it open with his hip. His office is barren but spacious, with high windows overlooking the city. Marty told him once that people would kill to have his office, but really it’s just like any other space. What’s an office without a productive person to work in it? Orion hasn’t done anything of meaning in weeks.

Sighing, he drops the box on the table unceremoniously, picking up the first CD on the top of the pile. GROUNDED IN REALITY reads the title, and it’s so apt that he almost chucks the CD in the trash on that very fact alone. Still, he’s nothing if not fair. Another sigh escapes him and he gets to listening.

. . .

Helpless.

That’s how he feels.

After hours of listening, the music has long since blurred together in a portrait of uninspired melodies and generic, radio-friendly lyrics. Nothing stood out, nothing made him want to dig into the song in search for more, nothing made him feel.

Is it me? Am I the problem?

Jaw clenched, Orion fishes out his phone, the usual flinch coming to him when he sees the background. He forgot to change it, and it’s always an (unwanted) surprise whenever he sees a picture of them together.

One year ago. The beach. Happy.

Shaking his head, he sends a quick text to his mother telling her that he’ll have to raincheck on their dinner. He still has half a box of songs left. Looks like he’ll be staying late.

“Yo, Orion!” A knock. “Let’s go! I want to driiink.”

Or not.

Marty strides in without waiting for an invitation, a grin on his face. “Tab is on me.”

“Do you ever work?” Orion asks, eyes half-lidded in equal parts annoyance and indifference.

His friend frowns. “This is work.”

“I don’t think getting drunk is in the job description.” Orion looks down, absently clicking on the button of his mouse in an effort to busy his hands.

“Wah, wah. Don’t be a fucking party pooper.”

“Too late.”

Marty shoots him a look. “A few artists are playing tonight. Call this recruitment.” He uses spirit fingers. “Maybe you’ll even loosen up for once.” When Orion looks at him, a brow raised, Marty drops his hands. “Yes, I do my job sometimes. Don’t look so surprised.”

“It’s not that,” Orion starts. He doesn’t immediately continue. Instead, they simply stare at each other. Marty wiggles his brows as Orion narrows his gaze. “When you say the tab is on you—“

Marty whips out a black card. “Company card, baby!”

Orion palms his face with a long groan as Marty begins to moonwalk across Orion’s office. “I was perfectly fine staying inside.” Even though he says this, a moment later he stands and grabs his trenchcoat from the back of the chair. “And you’re driving.”

“What!” Marty stomps his foot as he follows him out. “Nooooo.”

. . .

The bar sits in a livelier part of the city, a part that Orion doesn’t often find himself in. It’s less about the scene and more about the memories associated with every damn corner of this place. Orion can pluck a memory from his mind like a petal from a rose garden: the diner they went to and fought for fifteen minutes over who would get to pay the bill, the park they spent their lunches at.

The shop where he bought the ring.

“This place is golden,” Marty says, breaking Orion out of the string of memories he wishes he could erase forever, “it’s like a real gritty, underground hole-in-the-wall vibe.”

“Sounds like fun,” comes out of Orion in a dour tone that has Marty rolling his eyes.

They stride through the neon glow of the brick hall until it opens up to a dimly lit bar. The space is humble; the sparse crowd is compensated by the energy of the performers on the stage.

“Stacy, do you remember when I mowed your lawn…?”

“Is the band really covering Fountains of Wayne?” Orion says through gritted teeth.

Marty bites his lower lip, his obvious attempt to stifle laughter only making Orion’s faux horror flare even more. “Maybe.” Marty spins around, shimmying his shoulder. “You don’t agree that Stacy’s Mom Has Got It Going on?” Marty then realizes something and laughs. “You know, I dated a Stacy once. Weirdly enough, her mom wasn’t that bad looking—“

Orion sighs and quickly moves to the bar. “I need a drink.”

Whatever hope Orion had of finding new talent is gone in the face of the line-up. It quickly becomes obvious that the performers are composed of people who aren’t taking the ‘gig’ seriously or patrons that are half-drunk and stumbling on the small stage.

Worse that the place is pathetically empty; it’s only them two and three other stragglers eating stale fries and bobbing their heads to the music, more out of obligatory politeness than anything else. Orion is suddenly regretting taking Marty up on his offer.

Orion drinks his lager through periodic gulps, his desire to forget this night growing with every person that performs. The memories of this area coupled with his lack of work lately make him dizzy. He wants to escape. Quit. Scream. All of it.

“Get me another,” Orion says, much to Marty’s delight.

More and more people perform until Orion has lost any focus on the stage. Instead, he entertains himself by watching the game on the TV, having long given up on finding any new promising talent in a place like this.

“Next up we have”—the bartender stops, her eyes narrowing as she tries to read something off an index card—“er, [band]. Yeah. Give them a round of applause.”

With how few people are in attendance, the applause is less applause and more awkward clapping that quickly dies after two.

The people on stage are younger. Immediately, Orion notices that they’re equipped with actual instruments instead of relying on the karaoke machine in the corner. A decisive point in their favor, he decides.

“You said this was a gig…” He hears one of them say to what appears to be the lead singer. The boy wears a red hat, as well as an assortment of chains on his neck. Three other band members set up their instruments, trying not to look too disappointed by the turnout. Still, even with the lager creating a slight fog in his head, Orion knows that look. The moment when hope dies, burning like a napkin to a flame.

“No,” the lead singer says pointedly as they adjust their mic, “I said this was a favor.” In that moment, the singer nods their head at the bartender, who shoots them an appreciative thumbs-up. “A paid favor.”

The boy shakes his head but snorts. “I guess.”

Once they’re set up, the singer looks ahead, gazing at the bar. Their eyes briefly settle on Orion as they gaze at the few faces in the room. “Hey!” they say, chirpy. “We’re [band]. Thanks for coming out!”

A chorus of muttering replies.

Marty taps on the bar. “Wanna head out?”

Orion, unable to look away, shakes his head. “No. I want to see this.”

The next few minutes feel like a dream. Orion is in a daze as the song plays, the beats piercing through him. The voice sends goosebumps up his arms, the instruments weave together in a perfect harmony that has Orion’s heart racing. When the song ends, it’s too soon. He wants it to keep going. He doesn’t want it to end.

He wants more.

“Thanks!” The singer says to a smattering of slightly enthusiastic applause. This is the most energy everyone has had all night. They turn, grab their things, and disappear through the curtain. Orion bursts up….

…spilling his drink on the table.

“Oh!” the bartender squeaks as Marty hisses.

“Aw, fuck.” Orion curses, and then flinches. “Sorry. Uh….sorry.” He doesn’t know what his apology is for. Dropping the drink, cussing, or speeding away before he could help clean it up in order to catch the band backstage?

“Hey!” Marty calls. “Where are you going?”

Orion ignores him. He has a one-track mind right now, one focused on finding the band that just made him feel like he hit the jackpot. This. This is what he’s been looking for.

The door swings open, and the band stop mid-conversation to look at Orion, who busted through the door without so much as a plan or script in place. Instead, he simply stands there.

“Uh.” One girl, flaunting bright blue hair, says. “Yeah?”

Orion reveals his card, feeling a bit like a robot. He moves on automatic, working through the many thoughts in his head to utter the rest of his words. “Do you have a manager?”

. . .

“You want to manage us?”

The din of the coffee shop sings with the sound of plates and aimless chatter. It’s been two days since he heard them perform back at the bar, and Orion has been running through his pitch the way one does before an interview. He’s never been this…nervous? Uncertain? In his life.

“Yes,” is Orion’s only response. He sits on one side of the table while the band sits on the other; an invisible wall between them. He can see it, their apprehension. He is not one of them.

Not yet, at least.

“Wait.” The boy Orion learned is named Rowan leans forward, fingers on the table. “How do we know this isn’t a scam?”

“I’m not asking for money. All I ask is for you to show up to play for my boss. That’s it.” Auditions are a lost art. Nowadays artists are recruited through viral internet songs and connections. Two things that always exhausted Orion. It hasn’t been just about the music in a long time.

Their eyes widen. They all exchange looks, equal parts excited and wary.

“Why?” [MC], who he learned is the sole singer of the band, asks.

Because you made me feel something. Because listening to you is the first time I felt human in a long time.

He imagines himself waving off those words like mist. “Because you’re the first band that has caught my attention. And it’s not easy to catch my attention.”

The band member named Iris snorts.

“I’m not trying to be arrogant,” he says blandly, leaning back in his chair to fold his arms over his chest. “It’s the truth.”

“Where do you work?” Another member, Devyn, asks.

“Carolina Records.”

Multiple pairs of eyes widen.

“Holy shit.” Jazzy laughs. “The Carolina Records?”

Orion nods, used to this kind of reaction. Starry-eyed artists are pretty much the same when it comes to Carolina. “Yes.” He leans forward, his heart racing. “Just one audition. That’s all I ask.”

He watches as they all exchange looks; a silent language only they share. After an agonizing moment, [MC] turns to him and nods. “When?”

. . . .

Orion has been pacing for the last half hour.

He stands outside Carolina’s humble theater space, chewing on his nails as he waits for his boss, Jacob Hill, and a smattering of other executives and shareholders that will be the final word in whether Orion can work with [band]. He hasn’t asked for something this big in so long that Jacob Hill immediately said yes, more out of excitement and surprise than anything else. Orion did produce two of their most profitable artists in the company.

The elevator doors open and Orion stops in place, head whipping up to see them walking through the hall in a wave of black suits and greased hair. Orion brushes down his shirt, trying to dampen his nerves. Jesus. Nerves? Get a grip, Orion.

He doesn’t know how to stand as he waits for them to approach. Hands in pockets? Arms crossed? Orion is so indecisive he just resorts to standing straight, arms at his sides.

“Mr. Hill.” Orion shakes his hand, clearing his throat. He makes his polite greetings to the rest of the team and says, “Thank you for making time for me.”

“Always, Orion.” Jacob slaps a large hand on his back. “You’re one of my best. You should ask me for favors more.”

Orion lets out a small, slightly nervous laugh. “Ah, you know. I like to—“

“—do things on your own,” Jacob finishes, a soft smile on his face. “I get it.”

He slowly looks up, meeting Jacob’s eyes. In them he can see the familiar pity he’s gotten since the divorce.

It’s Orion’s fault, really. If he didn’t isolate himself and turn into what he is now, people wouldn’t look at him and assume he’s broken inside.

Would they be wrong in their assumption, though? Am I broken inside?

“Shall we?” another executive says, and Orion bobs his head in a nod, pushing away the image of Jacob’s face.

Inside is a small theater, the stage just big enough for one artist. The seats are plush leather, the lights dim but blue. Jacob always likes the spectacle, and he catered this space to feel like a real performance for possible signees. Orion decides against sitting, too nervous to do anything but stand in the back, giving them the signal he taught them in his pep talk before they came.

[MC] nods. “Um. Hi. We’re [band]. I’m [MC] and this is Iris, Rowan, Devyn, and Jazzy. And um…this is [song].”

Orion flinches at the lackluster introduction. Doesn’t matter, he thinks, unfamiliarly optimistic, the music will do the talking.

And it does.

But not in the way he thought.

All throughout the song, Orion peeks at Jacob and his team. He wants to celebrate when he sees them bobbing their heads, wants to curse when they get on their phones. Orion has never worried this much in his whole career. He’s never wanted something so bad.

He’s never allowed himself to want. Not after the divorce.

He didn’t think he was deserving of getting what he wanted.

The song ends, and Orion lets out a breath. There’s muffled chatter between the men, and on stage the band crowd together, hopping in place as they let out their remaining nerves.

Jacob stands, the rest following. Orion speeds ahead, wanting to see the thoughts on his face. Instead, Jacob simply regards him with thin lips.

“They were…good,” Jacob whispers, putting a hand on Orion’s shoulder and guiding him out of the room and to the empty hall, “but I think we’re going to go in another direction.”

Orion’s positivity leaks out of him like an open faucet. “What.”

Jacob inhales through his nose. “Look, the singer is talented. They all are. I understand why you like them but…” He shakes his head. “I don’t think the guys see it. And plus,” he shrugs, “they don’t have what we’re looking for.”

Orion’s brows furrow. His stomach drops in itself and his mouth dries. “They have another song. They could play it—“

“Orion.” Jacob gives him that pitying expression again. Fucking hell. He wants to smack that expression off his face. “I know you’ve been…off, since the divorce. You haven’t been on top of your game, and I’ve been giving you your space. It’s not easy, especially since you worked together—“

“I’m fine,” he says tightly.

“—but you can’t…fixate on something to get over it. You need to do it the healthy way. The old Orion would’ve brought me someone with pizzazz. With that unique Orion touch, you know?” Jacob pulls him close. Orion is reduced to a scolded child, unable to do anything but listen. “This isn’t the Orion I know. You usually bring me diamonds.”

“I—“ Orion swallows. “I’m trying.” And it’s the most honest thing he’s said in ages. He’s trying. And it’s not working. He’s been trying the day he signed that fucking divorce paper and signed the only life he’s known away.

“I know you are,” Jacob says, squeezing his shoulder. “Sometimes we miss, and that’s alright.”

The rest of the group filter out and both Jacob and Orion step back, trying to hide any sign of their tense conversation. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Orion nods slowly, the lump in his throat growing as he feels multiple eyes on him. His jaw is clenched, his eyes are downturned. He can hardly look at his boss.

He stands there, frozen, forced to listen to their careless chatter as they walk down the hall. The moment they stepped out of those doors, they forgot about the band. The same band that made him feel something, the first time since his divorce. The same band he can’t get out of his head. The same band that proved he is not broken. He can still feel.

And they don’t even fucking care.

“I quit,” Orion says, the words coming out of him before he could even think. Jacob and Co turn around, twin expressions of shock on their faces. Orion looks up, straightening, trying to look even an inch of the Old Him.

“What?” Jacob blurts.

“I quit.” Orion swallows. “I’ll formally hand in my resignation tomorrow.” He bows, trying to muster up the little respect and professionalism he has in him. “I’m sorry.”

“Orion—“

He spins around, walking back inside.

The band is still on stage, this time all packed up and ready to go. When the door closes, they all look up, their hopeful and wide eyes on Orion as he walks down to the stage.

He stops in front of it. He puts two palms on the stage, looking at the members of the band he will take to the top. He promised it to himself…two minutes ago.

“I’m going to ask again,” Orion says through his teeth, his heart racing with the adrenaline of his quitting. What the fuck is he doing? And why does it feel so good? “Do you still need a manager?”

When he looks up, the band stares at him in silence.

He witnesses [MC] look behind him at the door, where Jacob and his team left. As if realizing something, they look back down. “Yeah. You okay with another artist in your roster?”

“Yes.” Orion nods. He’s okay with it.

Because all he needs is one.

#orion quinn #drabble #looks around #scratches head #infamous

646 notes · View notes

thesapphictimelady · 1 month

Text

Ad Astra Per Aspera Chapter 5

Word count: 1.8K

TW: Implied domestic and verbal abuse

A/N: This is not proofread at all and I am slightly drunk so please excuse any typos and formatting errors! I hope you all love it and please comment! Tell me what you like and dislike! I have no idea what’s gonna happen next so I’m also open to ideas! The next thing I write will not be a part of this series but I hope you all will love it just as much!

“Is that-”

“Jenny.” Cassie whispered, “Yeah,”

“How did she-”

“I don’t know,” Cassie said, “I didn’t tell her where I moved to. I don’t know how she found me.”

Melissa gently embraced the shaking girl, “It’s okay. Listen, I’m gonna go to your apartment and grab you some clothes. And then…and then you can stay at my place until we sort this out.”

“Ms. Schemmenti I couldn’t impose-”

“You aren’t. It’s gonna be okay, Cassiopeia. We’ll sort this out.”

“I-I should call the cops-”

“No,” Melissa cut in, “Nothing good ever came from getting them involved. I’ll take care of it. I’m gonna have Barb take you to my house while I get your stuff,”

“No!” Cassie said, “I-I want to come with you.”

“Hon, are you sure? We don’t know if she’s still there or not.”

“Please?”

Melissa sighed, wiping a stray tear from the young woman’s cheek, “Okay. Okay, you can come. Let me go make our excuses with Ava.”

“Won’t we get in trouble for leaving early?”

“It’s a teacher workday. Things are more relaxed. Besides, Ava doesn’t care if we’re here or not. Get your stuff together and make a list of what you want to grab so we can be in and out quickly.”

Cassie nodded and the older woman left the room, her heeled boots clicking on the floor. She looked down at her phone and shuddered, quickly closing the photo and powering her phone off. Cassie stood and grabbed a piece of construction paper and a colored pencil from one of the shelves to start making a list of things to grab.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Barbara said, leaning on the doorframe, “Is everything okay? Melissa looked a bit ruffled when she passed my classroom.”

“Yeah, everything’s fine!” Cassie said quickly, “She just went to talk to Ava! She’ll be back.”

Barbara stepped into the room and lowered her voice, “Are you sure you’re okay? Your hands are shaking.”

“I-” Cassie paused and bit her lip, “It’s…it’s complicated. But Ms. Schemmenti is very kind and she’s helping me out.”

“Well, I’m glad Melissa is there for you. She seems to have developed a soft spot for you! If you ever need anything else, Gerald and I are happy to help.”

“I couldn’t possibly ask-”

“You aren’t asking, I’m offering. Really, Cassiopeia, you deserve love and kindness,” Barbara stepped forward and wrapped the younger woman into a hug.

Cassie froze and then the floodgates opened and she was sobbing into Barb’s shoulder.

“I’m just so scared, Mrs. Howard!” she sobbed.

“Oh, sweetheart, it’ll be okay! Melissa and I are going to take care of you!”

“Hey kid, you got your list…” Melissa trailed off as she entered the room and saw Cassiopeia wrapped in Barb’s arms, “What happened?”

“I hugged her and she just broke down. She says she’s scared.”

Melissa crossed the room quickly, picking up Cassie’s phone to make sure there wasn’t anything from Jenny. Once she was satisfied, she started gathering their things into her arms.

“Cassiopeia and I are leaving early. Something came up.”

“Melissa, is there something you want to tell me?” Barbara said, eyeing her over the top of Cassie’s head.

“I think it’s better you didn’t know,” Melissa said, gently coaxing Cassie out of Barbara’s embrace, “I don’t think you’d approve.”

“Melissa Schemmenti…” Barb started.

“Drop it Barb. Listen, I’ll call you tonight, okay? You can be mad at me all ya want but just trust me.”

Cassie sniffled and wiped her eyes, “Bye, Mrs. Howard.”

Barbara’s expression softened and she smiled sadly at her, “Bye, sweetheart. I’ll see you on Monday. And my offer still stands, okay? I’m a phone call away.”

Cassiopeia nodded and let Melissa guide her out of the classroom, down the hall, and out of the building.

“Do any of these cars belong to Jenny?” Melissa asked, pulling into a parking spot.

Cassie looked around and shook her head, “I don’t recognize any of them.”

“You got your list?”

Cassie held it up and Melissa grabbed it out of her hand and unbuckled, reaching behind her seat and pulling out a baseball bat.

“Stay here, I’ll go get everything.”

“Okay first, no, I’m coming with you. And second, WHY do you have a baseball bat in your car? And…please tell me that’s rust.”

“Yeah…rust. Let’s go with that,” Melissa said, making a mental note to wash her baseball bats later, “Are you sure you want to go inside?”

“Ms. Schemmenti, I haven’t unpacked anything. Even I don’t know where half of this stuff is. It’ll be easier if I come with.”

“Fine. Okay, but give me the keys. I’m going in first.”

Cassie dug her keys out of her bag and handed them over. Together, they walked up to the front door, which stood slightly ajar.

“Guess I don’t need these,” Melissa tossed the keys to Cassie, readied her bat and pushed the door the rest of the way open with her boot.

The apartment was quiet and dark. Melissa flicked the lights on and grimaced. All the glass in the apartment had been smashed and littered around and the words “Worthless Bitch” were carved into the wall and doused in red paint. Cassie pushed in front of her and grabbed a duffel bag, dumping the contents on the floor and walking around the room, careful to avoid the glass.

Melissa lowered her bat cautiously once she was sure no one was inside and went to the kitchen to grab the groceries she had left there. Her pizza dough sat untouched but she tossed it in the trash can just to be safe.

“She wouldn’t have poisoned that,” Cassie said softly, shoving a blanket into her duffel, “It’s not her style.”

“Not mine either,” Melissa muttered, going to help Cassie, “You don’t need a blanket kid. What, you think I’m gonna make ya sleep on the floor?”

Cassie blushed, “I-I didn’t know where I’d be sleeping,”

“I have a guest room. You just need clothes and toiletries. I’ve got everything else.”

Cassie paused and looked up at the redhead, “How long…”

“As long as you need to,” Melissa said, grabbing some random clothing items from a box, “I don’t care if it’s a day or a month. You’re not living here until Jenny is taken care of.”

“Taken care of? What is this, The Sopranos?” Cassie joked.

“Until she leaves town,” Melissa said, “Or until we find you a new apartment.”

“I can’t afford anything else…”

“Then I’ll help you. I’m gonna keep ya safe, kid. I’ll always catch you, remember?”

Cassie smiled softly and zipped her duffel bag, “Thank you, Ms. Schemmenti.”

“Cassiopeia, call me Melissa,”

“Thank you, Melissa.”

“You’re welcome. Now get back in the car. I’ll lock up.”

“Hey,” Melissa said, parking the car in her driveway, “Are you doing okay? I mean, your apartment…”

“Think I’ll get my security deposit back?” Cassie joked.

“Kid…”

“I’m okay, Melissa. It’s not the first time she’s done something like that. It’s better to just let her throw her tantrum. I’m less likely to get hurt that way.”

“Cassiopeia, this…you know this isn’t okay, right?”

Cassie shrugged, fiddling with the strap of her duffel bag, “It’s the way it’s always been,”

“That doesn’t make it okay though!”

“Can we please go inside? I-It’s been a long day.”

Melissa sighed and lead the younger woman up to the house.

“Melissa, this is…wow, your house is gorgeous!”

“It’s nothing really,” Melissa said, dropping her keys into a bowl and locking the door.

Cassie laughed, “I haven’t seen a plastic covered couch in years!”

“Yeah well, sometimes people spill and it’s easier to clean!” Melissa said defensively, taking the duffel bag out of Cassie’s hands, “Let me show you the guest room. It’s…it’s a little messy right now. I’ll change the sheets before you go to bed.”

The two women climbed the stairs, Cassie smiling at the family photos lining the walls. Melissa pushed open a door and set down the duffel bag.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, walking further down the hall to open a closet and retrieve fresh sheets.

Cassie set to work stripping the bed and then helped the older woman remake it, tucking the sheets in tightly.

“My room is right down the hall,” Melissa said, pulling her hair into a ponytail, “If you need anything tonight, and i mean anything, just come wake me up.”

“I’m not going to…”

“Kid, I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it. Anything.” Cassie nodded, unzipping her duffel bag to retrieve something to sleep in. It was still light out, but the two women had hardly slept the night before.

“Bathroom is right next door,” Melissa said before closing the door so Cassie could change.

Once she had changed into a tank top and shorts, she took her bag of toiletries to the bathroom and set to work removing all of the makeup she had put on that morning. All the concealer on her neck was wiped clean and she winced slightly when she touched the bruises there.

Melissa knocked on the door softly, “Hon, I just wanted to let you know I’m heading to bed. I didn’t actually sleep at all last night. The doors are all locked and if you need ANYTHING, you come and wake me up.”

Cassiopeia opened the door and Melissa winced at the sight of the bruises on her neck.

“Thank you, Melissa. It means a lot that you’re letting me stay here.”

“Of course. If you get cold, there’s more blankets in the closet at the end of the hall. G’night.”

Melissa headed into her room, closing the door behind her and Cassie headed into the guest room, flipping off the lights and climbing into the bed.

An hour later, sleep was still not coming. She didn’t want to admit it, but after finding out that Jenny had found her, she was terrified. She tossed and turned, she practiced all of her breathing exercises, but the panic attack that had been brewing all evening was closing in on her.

Biting back a sob, she threw back the blankets and curled up on the cold wood floor, trying to ground herself. She knew she was safe, she knew Jenny didn’t know where she was now, yet her brain was still in overdrive.

Another hour of silent sobs passed and she finally decided enough was enough. She crept out of her room and down the hall to Melissa’s room. Slowly, she pushed the door open and tiptoed into the room.

The redhead was snoring softly and Cassie didn’t want to wake her. Instead she climbed into bed with her and laid her head on the pillows. They smelled like vanilla and the faint menthol scent that had lingered in Melissa’s car and…

Cassie frowned, feeling under the pillow and then snorted out a laugh.

“Do you really keep a baseball bat under your pillow?”

Melissa rolled over and hummed sleepily, “What you mean you don’t?”

#abbott elementary #abbott elementary fanfiction #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x oc #melissa schemmenti x reader

110 notes · View notes

sergeantbarnessdoll · 5 months

Text

Lesson » Lee Bodecker

Pairings: Lee Bodecker x Reader

Summary: Lee teaches the reader a lesson.

Warnings: Smut (18+), language, age gap, kissing, hickeys, (m receiving), unprotected sex, Sheriff kink, size kink, praise kink, handcuffs, hair pulling, spanking (like a couple times?), degrading, name calling (slut, whore), pet names (darlin’, sugar)

Note: The reader is in her early 20s and Lee is in his late 30s.

Written on my phone so sorry if there’s any mistakes or typos.

Header credit goes to @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

You thought it would be a great idea to hangout with some new friends you just met, but what you didn’t know was that you were going to get arrested. Now here you are, shifting uncomfortably in the backseat of the cop car due to how tight the handcuffs are.

“Sir, please! I didn’t do anything! I’m new here, I just didn’t know what the law is here!” You pleaded.

“I’d believe you if you didn’t have alcohol on your breath.” Lee says.

“I took one sip! That’s all!” You say.

“That still doesn’t justify your actions. Now, when we get to the station, I’m gonna call your mama and have her pick you up.” He says.

Your eyes widened and your heart started pounding. You’ve never done anything bad. This is the first time you’ve ever been arrested. If your mama finds out, she’ll be so fucking pissed.

“No, please don’t call my mama! She’ll be so pissed! I’ll do anything you say! Just please don’t call her!” You say on the verge of tears.

Lee glanced up at you through the rear view mirror and thought about it for a moment. He turned down a dirt road and drove halfway down before stopping. He shut off his cruiser and got out, walking to your side of the car and opening the door.

“Get out of the car.” He demands.

You got out of the car and stood in front of him. He turned you around and led you to the front of his cruiser.

“Since you don’t want me callin’ your mama, I’m gonna be teaching you a lesson. Now, from here on out, you’ll be addressing me as Sheriff, you’ll be a good girl, and do as I say. Understand?” Lee says.

“Yes Sheriff, I understand.” You say submissively.

“Good girl. Now, get on your knees.” He says.

You dropped down to your knees and looked up at Lee, waiting for further instructions. You watched as he unbuckled his belt and undid his uniform pants, pulling out his hard cock. You licked your lips at the sight. He’s big. You rubbed your thighs together at the thought of his cock inside of you.

“Be a good girl and suck my cock.” He says.

You licked the tip of his cock, moaning at the taste of his precum. You opened your mouth and Lee slid his cock in your mouth until his tip hit the back of your throat making you gag. He thrusted in and out of your mouth. You flattened out your tongue, his cock easily rubbed against it.

“Such a good girl for me.” Lee says, brushing your hair out of your face.

You moaned when he called you a good girl. Your panties were beyond soaked for this man.

“Fuck, you keep doin’ that, darlin’, I’ll let up on your punishment a little.” He moans, tilting his head back.

You occasionally moaned around his cock in hopes that your punishment won’t be too bad after this. Lee’s hands gathered all of your hair, putting it in a ponytail and pulling at it every time he thrusted into your mouth. You looked up at him and batted your eyelashes innocently.

“Look at ya. Lookin’ all innocent, but deep down, you know that your a fucking slut.” Lee says degradingly.

“Mhmm.” You moaned.

Lee degrading you and calling you a slut or a whore turned you on even more and your panties are beyond soaked.

“You’re my slut now, aren’t ya, darlin’?” He says.

“Mhmm!” You moaned around his cock.

“Damn right, you are! Fuck! I’m gonna cum in that pretty little mouth of yours.” He moans, tilting his head back.

His cock twitched as his orgasm came closer and closer until he came in your mouth. Lee stood above you, panting as he took his cock out of your mouth. You swallowed his cum and opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out and showing him that you swallowed all of it.

“Good girl. Stand up.” He ordered.

You managed to stand up without struggling. Your knees were red and slightly scraped from being on the concrete for so long.

“Bend over the hood and spread your legs.” Lee orders, patting the hood of his cruiser.

You did as you were told, giving Lee an amazing view of your now soaked panties. You gasped when you felt his fingers rub your clit through the wet material.

“You’re so wet, darlin’. Did those boys make you this wet?” He asks as he continued to rub your panty covered pussy.

“N-No! It was you! All of it is for you!” You moaned.

“All of this is for me? You’re so sweet.” He says.

You felt Lee bunched your dress up above your hips and slid your panties down your legs. You looked over your shoulder to see him shoving your panties in his pocket. Lee’s hand went back to your wet pussy, rubbing his middle and ring finger through your soaked folds, spreading your wetness. You let out a loud moan when he slid his fingers inside of your tight hole. You whined when he took it out.

“You taste so good, sugar.” He says, licking your juices off his finger.

You whimpered and wiggled your hips, hoping you would get some kind of relief, but that only gave you a smack on your ass.

“Be patient. Your punishment isn’t over.” Lee says.

Lee teasingly rubbed your clit. You desperately wanted to grind yourself against his hand, but you didn’t want to make your punishment any worse than it already is. He stopped rubbing your clit to line his cock up at your entrance, slowly sliding it in, inch by inch. Your jaw dropped, an inaudible moan left your lips.

“You’re so big!” You gasped.

“You can take it, sugar. I know you can.” He says.

Lee gripped your hips and began thrusting.

“You’re fucking tight.” Lee groans, tilting his head back.

His hands held on to your hips with a bruising grip as his thrust became more fast. One of his hands went to your front and down to your clit, rubbing it in circles. You felt the tip of his cock hit that one spot inside of you causing you to moan loudly.

“Oh my god! Don’t stop!” You moaned.

“I don’t plan on stopping.” Lee says almost in a growl.

Your hands managed to find their way to Lee’s shirt, grabbing onto it and holding it tightly when his thrust became more rough.

“Such a dirty little slut for letting the sheriff fuck you where anyone can drive by and see.” Lee says with a groan.

Your cunt clenched around his cock at the thought of it.

“Of course you’d like that, you dirty girl.” He chuckles.

You felt your lower stomach tighten. It felt like your orgasm was about to come crashing down on you.

“Sheriff, pl-please let me cum!” You whimpered.

“Since you’ve been a good girl, go ahead, sugar. Cum for me.” He whispers in your ear.

His fingers moved faster against your now sensitive clit causing your orgasm to come closer and closer. His name left your lips with a loud moan as you came, soaking his cock and your inner thighs. Lee wasn’t too far behind you.

“Think I might keep you to myself. What do you think about that, darlin’?” He says.

“Oh fuck yes! I love that!” You moaned almost in a whine.

“Of course you do.” He chuckles.

A moan left Lee’s lips as he came inside of you. His thrusts came to a slow stop. He placed his hand on the hood of his cruise on either side of you. You two stood there for a moment to catch your breath. He slowly pulled his cock out of you and tucked himself back inside of his pants.

“Umm sheriff?” You say, breaking the silence.

“Yes, darlin’?” Lee says.

“Can you please take these handcuffs off of my wrists? They’re tight.” You say shyly.

“Not as tight as that little cunt of yours.” He chuckles.

You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, but you also felt turned on when he said that. He took the keys to the handcuffs out of his pocket, unlocking the handcuffs and took them off of your wrists. You readjusted your dress and rubbed your red wrists as you turned around to face him.

“Can I have my panties back please?” You asked.

“Nope. Those belong to me now.” He says.

You pouted as he walked you to the passenger’s side of his cruiser, opening the door for you. He closed the door and went to the driver’s side and got in.

“Let’s get you home so your mama doesn’t get worry about you.” Lee says, starting the car.

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚

-Bucky’s Doll

#sheriff lee bodecker #lee bodecker #sebastian stan #sebastian stan characters #the devil all the time #lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker smut #lee bodecker one shot #lee bodecker imagine

242 notes · View notes

felixs-case143-chicken · 1 year

Text

SKZ and how they would hug you while sleeping <3

Straykids Ot8 x Reader (separately)

Fluff <3

Warnings:none I guess, tell me if any are needed ! (Some typos bc my keyboard 💔)

Authors note: I had fun writing these! If you have any suggestions of skz reactions you want to read feel free to send some in my ask! <3

Bangchan: He knows how much you love his hugs and cuddles but when he’s sleeping, he has his arm under you. His one arm to himself on his chest meanwhile the other was spread on your bed side with your head laying on it comfortable. Your front turned to him to face him while he’s laying on his back, sleeping peacefully. Chans hand would also caress your hair, making your head gently move to him biceps so he could move his own forearm more. Twirling your hair gently between his fingers and giving your soft scratches on your scalp here and then making you relax even more, falling deeper in your sleep. You looked pretty laying next to him like that <3

Lee Know: Minho would be the classic type of having one arm wrapped over your waist while laying on his side, his chest barely touching your tiny back while his arm was placed on your waist, his hand playing with your own which was placed onto the sheets. His face closely nuzzled to your neck and breathing his warm breath against your skin. Actually he would notice when you try to sneak out of his loosen grip and grab your waist to pull you back in place. „we’ll stay a little longer..“ he would whisper tiredly in your ear and starting to cling you the rest of the morning (-.-)

Changbin: now we come to our Binnie! Did you see his strong arms? His body? He’s a buff man so buff and cuddly boyfriend so he would keep you on top on his torso. Him laying in his back while your face is snuggled up in his chest. His arms wrapped around your little form and holding you close as possible as if you aren’t already smoothed up against him. Listening calmly to his soft heart beats and feeling his chest raising up and down slowly. His hands rubbing your back gently and also your scalp. Making you relax a lot. Your soft purrs would make him smile gently in his sleep and humming in satisfaction. Not letting go of you.

Hyunjin: This romantic man live and breaths for holding hands while he’s spooning you from behind. His legs wrapped over yours and his hands around you, holding tightly but gently your tiny hands in his. His thumbs caressing the back of your hand and pressing his face in your hair, soft strands of hair which are from yours are tickling his skin, making his nose scrunch before huffing in his half sleepy state. You’re already sleeping tight and enjoying the warmth of him spooning you into his arms and legs, holding your tiny body all covered up by him.

Han: He would have many different positions, sometimes you’re with chest to chest hugging each other in sleep, sometimes he’s on top on you, or you on him or just laying beside each other and holding each others Hand. He wouldn’t mind at least you are holding each other in any way. At least Han can feel your soft skin beneath his hands. But at the next morning you would find him on top on your, his head laid on your chest while he’s clinging on your like a koala, hugging you tightly but gently, feeling your warmth against him.

Felix: Don’t expect yongbok not to hug you at all while sleeping, he would cling on you like you’ve been away for months, wrapping you in your blanket with his together while he wraps his arms around you to have you spooned by him, his face against your shoulder and enjoying the warmth of the fabrics and of you. He would also leave some kisses here and there wherever he can reach, telling you some small praises of how pretty you look and all. He just loves to be so close to you and he also hopes you like it too <3

Seungmin: he loves hugging and holding you in his arms while sleeping don’t get him wrong but when you’ll do it- he would be so lost. Like he just had you in his arms but he needed to move in sleep and suddenly you’re not that close to him anymore.. soon when he feels you lifting his arm a bit up and wrapping your arms around his torso, squeezing him tight he would get ripped out of his sleep and ask you if you need someone or- he would tell you to go sleep and all but at the end he would pull you back against him and place a kiss on your cheek before burying his face back in your neck, falling asleep after seconds.

Jeongin: the fact about Jeongin not liking skinship really makes it for you a bit difficult to cuddle with him at least while sleeping. Actually he would love to get some physical touches from you since you’re the love of his life and he also allows Changbin to hug him and all so why you not? But bc you wouldn’t be always sure he has to come closer to you and do the next steps. It would start off with caressing your arm and then wrapping an arm around your waist, his hand stroking gently your side before pushing you toward him till his face is close to your ear, his one leg wrapped around yours while he still enjoys secretly of how much you like his touches for you. You wouldn’t also hesitate that much to give him a kiss and so does he <33

713 notes · View notes

katiexpunk · 7 months

Text

Heat Wave | Pairing Javier Peña X fem!Reader

Summary: In the sweltering haze of a Colombian heatwave, everyone's on edge, including you, your nerves fried crispier than plantains in a hot skillet. Even Javi is not immune - his nights spent tossing and turning, the relentless heat driving him mad. Imagine his surprise - and yours - when he knocks on your door late one night, a little buzzed and sweaty, craving a distraction. What's a generous soul to do but let him in and share some cool, sweet cholado? As the night unfurls, the heat outside might be unbearable, but inside, things are just starting to warm up.

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI. I say this with love -- GTFO.

Word count: 5K

Warnings: Javi wasn't super nice to reader and has to gravel a bit, female masturbation, references to the cartels, use of pet names (Hermosa, Cariño), emotions, reader cries, sweat, fingering, female stimulation, face-fucking, blowjob, praise kink, unprotected sex (wrap it up, don't lead by my written example), direct p in v, pussy slap, somewhat rough sex, sensual sex, creampie, and cum eating.

Authors Note: Eek! This is my first time writing for Javi, so be kind to be hunnie bunnies. Joel will always have my smutty heart, but damn, Javi can fucking get it. Special thanks to @sydneyinacoma for being my personal hype woman on this one, and to @josephquinnswhore for telling me this premise wasn't total trash. Ily bbs.

Also I often edit after I post (hello typos) so if you saw one originally sorry 🫣

The window is wide open, but the curtains aren’t moving; only offering a slight flutter now and again, offering a deceptive promise of a breeze that you know will never come. You lay there, restlessly, the cotton sheets sticking to your damp skin. The eerie silence of the room was punctuated by the whirring fan overhead, its blades churning the stale, hot air in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. It’s nearly midnight, hours since you’d gone to bed, but yet, you find yourself staring at the ceiling, cursing why you ever decided to move to Colombia. Had you known it would be the hottest summer on record, you might have thought differently and denied the job.

You turn to your side, annoyed at the hair clinging to the back of your neck and forehead like velcro. You stare at the alarm clock on your nightstand, watching the numbers slowly change, like a shitty version of trying to count sheep, but there’s no point. You’re wide awake, and there doesn’t seem to be anything that can change that.

You roll onto your back to splay out like a starfish, hoping the gap between your limbs will somehow offer you some reprieve from your burning core, and you stare at the ceiling. You wonder if you’ll actually get any sleep tonight. The heat was enough to keep you awake, but there were other things that would probably prevent you from dozing off if the heat weren’t a factor.

Outside of the thud of your own pulse, it’s completely quiet in your apartment. You’re sure people are awake, but no sound comes from Steve and Connie’s apartment next door; nor from Javi’s. Odd, you think, considering work has been slow as of late and most of Colombia, even the cartels have hidden themselves away from the relenting sun and suffocating humidity, too tired to do anything substantial.

In your haze, eyes transfixed on the ceiling panels above you, you try your best to think about something else, anything but him, but your last conversation replays in your brain like a bad rerun.

You knew he wasn’t really the type to settle down, and you were more than aware of his reputation, yet you let yourself hope that this situation might be different, that you might be the one to change him.

He had insisted that it was for the best and that he wasn’t the right guy for you; that it should be simple for you to move forward and erase any trace of your connection, and that he should do the same. Perhaps that was the reality of it; maybe it was only you who had experienced a heightened sense of joy during those countless nights he held you close. When wrapped in his embrace, the burden of your conscience seemed to lighten, and you couldn't help but wonder if he had ever found comfort in your presence as well.

Your mind begins to drift to the ways he made you feel like you were the most precious thing in the world. You can still feel his pillowy lips leaving a soft trail of kisses up your neck and across your jaw, cock buried deep inside of you. The memory of it sits low in your belly, adding to the stickiness between your thighs, now a cruel mixture of sweat and arousal.

Your mind swirls with thoughts of him, and you decide that there might be one thing you’ve yet to try that might be able to help you fall asleep. You lay there, trying to focus, to let your mind sink into better days, better nights, ones you had spent wrapped around him in every way possible.

You tease your fingertips along the thin fabric of your tank top, trying to ignore the way the sweat that’s seeped into its fibers causes it to bunch up as you stroke your hand down your sternum. You circle your nipples through the fabric, trying to call forward any sense of arousal or sensuality. You slide your hand under the waistband of your linen shorts and place your hand between your legs, resting it atop your lace underwear, already wet, courtesy of Colombia and your incessant thoughts of Javi.

Your fingers are quite delicate compared to his, and you miss the thickness only he can seem to provide. You slide your underwear to the slide, and drag your index finger through your folds, bringing your slick up to your clit. Your hips lift at the sensation, and you let out a little moan.

You begin to slowly draw small circles, eventually increasing your pace enough to provide a nice mix of movement and pressure. Your restless thoughts of him have you so keyed up, already so close to the cliff of your orgasm you can practically taste it. Your body heats even more as you chase your high, desperate for a release, practically begging for an escape from this inferno. Like a cord about to snap, you swear you’re starting to see stars when you hear it – knock, knock – and the distraction cruelly pulls you back from the edge, your pressure gauge falls, and your orgasm retreats back inside you like you scared it.

No! Fuck.

Now hot, tired, and sexually frustrated, you let out a long sigh. You slide your underwear back in place and withdraw your hand from your shorts. You wipe your wet fingers on the fabric beneath you, gaze at the clock once more, and wonder who the hell would be at your door at this hour. You rise, legs still a little shaky from your would-be orgasm, and walk over to answer it.

Your aggravation at the disruption vanishes the moment you clock his face through the peephole. You unlock the top and bottom lock and release the chain from the door, opening it to completely see him.

He looks like he’s been chewed up and spat out, his hair a disheveled mess of thick, dark, damp curls, small beads of perspiration collecting on his lush, tan skin. You’ve seen him like this before, a look of affliction, hiding behind soft brown eyes. But there’s something else flickering in his eyes – some kind of yearning. For what? You haven’t got a clue. He’s made his stance on your relationship very clear, or at least, the parade of women filing in and out of his apartment speaks volumes.

You lean up against the door frame, waiting for him to speak, to give some sort of explanation as to why he’s on your doorstep.

“Hey,” is all he says, eyeing you up and down, eyes lingering a little too long on your exposed stomach.

You’re positive you must look like a mess right now, but you don’t really care, you feel like one.

“Javi – is everything okay? It’s late,” you answer quietly.

He crosses his arms, then uncrosses them, then shifts the weight from one hip to another, unsure of himself, obviously uncomfortable.

“I know, ‘m really sorry to bother you. Can I come in?” he asks, looking at you with his big puppy dog eyes, and you can’t turn him down. You step aside so he can enter your small living room, hoping he can’t smell your arousal on you, hoping that he’ll assume the musk lingering in the air was just from the cracked window, the outside world seeping in.

Your apartment was rather small to begin with, but with his presence, it seemed to shrink before your eyes. He walks over to the center of the room, and pauses once he sees the couch; a memory of him railing you on it flashes through his brain.

No.

No, he won’t let himself think about that. He swallows the thought, and palms at his jeans to adjust himself. He’s not here for that, he’s here to gravel.

You let out a sigh, and walk over to him. You come to stand right in front of him, giving him the opportunity to commit the sight of you like this to memory – all pretty, skin clammy, cheeks a darker shade of pink than normal. You pause before saying anything, still unsure why he’s here in the first place.

“Can I get you some water, whiskey, anything?” you ask, cringing at how awkward it feels to play hostess with him now, considering he’s explored every inch of your body with his tongue.

Javier shakes his head and runs a hand over his forehead to wipe away the sweat collecting there as if he’s deciding what to say.

“Mmm, no. Probably shouldn’t have any more whiskey tonight,” he admits. “Some water would be good. You don’t happen to have anything cold by chance, do you? This heat is fucking killing me,” he says.

“Actually, yeah, I do,” you say, your voice an octave too high, remembering your creation earlier this evening. You nod to Javi to take a seat on the couch, giving him a perfect view to watch as you saunter over to the kitchen. You open the freezer and reveal a container with a kaleidoscope of colors. It closes with a thud, and you open the fridge next, pulling from it a bowl of fresh fruit – juicy chunks of mango, sweet pineapple, zesty oranges – and a can of whipped cream. Javier watches intently as you gather it all neatly onto a little tray, glide over to the end of the tiny kitchen to grab two spoons from a drawer, and close it with a quick thrust of your hip.

You place the tray on the coffee table. The couch lets out a little squeak as you find your seat next to his.

“Fresh cholado – made it tonight,” you say, offering him a spoon.

You neatly assemble the fruit on top of the colorful slushy mixture. The sound of the whipped cream releasing its contents onto the top of the fruit causes the hair on the back of his neck to rise to stand.

“Go ahead, dig in,” you say, offering him a kind smile. God, you’re always so sweet and nice to him, even when he doesn’t deserve it.

Both with a spoon in hand now, you delve into the sensory masterpiece, pausing in silence as you savor the blend of textures and tastes, a welcomed escape from the heat.

Javier closes his eyes and lets out a small hum in delight.

“This is so good, holy shit,” he praises, not even finishing with his latest bite before he’s digging in for another.

“I’m glad you like it,” you say, and you really mean it.

The elephant in the room becomes harder and harder to ignore.

“Why are you here, Javier?” you ask, voice a little unsure.

His eyes hold your gaze for a moment, and he swallows his last bite and then places the metal spoon onto the tray in front of you both. He doesn’t say anything, instead, he holds out his hand, his eyes pleading with you to take it. You hesitate, before deciding to place your palm in his, allowing his fingers to wrap around yours. He stares at it, the pad of his thumb tracing over the back of it, and he inches closer to you.

Neither of you says anything, but your brows furrow and you look at him, hoping he can see the pain – the hurt he inflicted on you – in your eyes.

“Cariño,” he whispers softly, and you sense the obvious change in his tone. His hand releases yours, and he brings his palm up to land on your cheek. Maybe it was just the heat playing tricks with your emotions, but the simple action causes tears to well up in your eyes.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he admits.

Oh god, he already broke your heart once, was he here to just do it all over again? The thought causes your already battered heart to sink into your stomach.

“I can’t pretend like I don’t need you anymore,” he continues, “like you’re not the only thing - the only person - in Colombia preventing me from losing myself,” he adds.

The sudden truth bomb he’s dropped leaves you speechless.

“I —” you start to say, but the broken silence is all it takes before Javi pulls you in closer, hugging your waist, dragging you up onto his lap, your knees straddling him. You try to ignore the uncomfortable press of his DEA badge digging into your inner thigh but secretly hope it leaves a mark.

Fuck, it feels so good to be on him like this again. You shouldn’t feel this way, but you do. You rest one hand on his shoulder and instinctively run the other hand’s fingers through his hair. Old habits die hard. For the first time in a while, you feel a bit of relief; you wager he must feel the same by the hefty sigh that escapes his lips.

“Javi – I don’t,” you pause, your words trembling, “I don’t want to get hurt again,” you say, allowing your hands to wrap around his torso and your head to fall into the crook of his neck. Hot tears begin to spill from your eyes and fall to the fabric of his shirt, the weight of your confession compounding with all of your other frustrations from the evening.

“I know, baby. I just…fuck, I don’t know how to do this. I suck at the emotional,” he admits, gently patting the back of your hair and holding you close to him. He pauses before guiding your face up to look at him and continues, “I’m so sorry I hurt you. I was just scared; didn’t want to get hurt, or even worse, hurt you, but I realize now that I did, and I was wrong. I was so fucking wrong. Shit. I just… I need you, I need you more than I need air in my lungs,” he adds, and you hear the break in his voice.

“You do?” you ask, hating how pathetic you must sound, your eyes puffy and cheeks wet from your crying.

“I’ll always be here for you, cariño, if you’ll let me. I know I don’t deserve it, but do you think you can forgive me?” he softly mutters. Seeing you trying to blink away the silent years trailing down your cheeks, he reaches up and swipes away at them with his thumb, and his hand stays there, cupping your face.

You nod yes in response.

Just like that, it’s almost as if everything were still the same; as if it were just you and him against it all. A thought of doubt crosses your mind, one saying this might just be temporary, your heart still unsure if you can trust him, but you allow yourself to cave into the feeling all the same.

He holds you quietly against his chest, the pressure of his strong arm around you is soothing. You feel his cock begin to stiffen under you, and it causes something to stir in your lower belly. God, you want him. It was less than half an hour ago that you were coaxing yourself to orgasm with just the thought of him inside you.

Your chest begins to flush, and the heat your bodies generate together mingles with the warm air in the room around you. You slightly press off of him to find some reprieve from the burning surface of his chest and place your hand on it, his shirt slightly clinging to it as you do.

You lean forward and press a soft, breathless kiss on his lips, one laced with the taste of tears. It’s delicate at first, as if to test the waters of your reunification after so much time apart, but it’s not before long that it deepens; his tongue exploring the recesses of your mouth, your mutual lust boiling to the surface. His hands glide down from your waist to your hips and he grips onto the delicious flesh there, inviting you to grind against him.

Your hips roll on him, and you feel a sudden disdain for the clothing that clings to your skin like a second skin. The fabric is damp and heavy, and with each roll of your hips, it chafes against you. Your eyes tell you that you’re not the only one who’s uncomfortable, Javier’s face in a slight twist, one that screams both pleasure and pain.

“You know, Colombia’s hot enough without the two of us making more of it,” you say, letting a little giggle out as you do, tilting your head back, letting your hair fall behind. Javier trails kisses down the side of your neck and then darts his tongue out to lick the hollow of your throat. The action causes your breath to hitch.

“You’re right, Cariño, we really should do something about these layers, hmm,” he purrs, and you catch his drift.

He releases both of his hands from your hips and helps you lift your tanktop over your head, your perky tits bounce in response and the friction of the fabric on your nipples causes them to stiffen. One of his hands finds its home on your hip, and the other comes to grab your breast. He rolls your nipple between his fingers, the feeling sending a tiny zap through you as he does. His mouth finds your chest and his tongue trails the valley of your breasts before slowly making its way over to the stiff peak of your other exposed nipple. A low, hungry growl leaves his chest, it’s a needy and desperate sound that goes straight to your cunt.

“Javi –” you moan, “clothes,” It’s not a question, but a request, one he’s happy to oblige.

He begins to undo the buttons of his linen shirt, and you watch in anticipation, his stiff cock under you making you impatient. His shirt joins yours on the floor, and you trail your hand down the expanse of his chest, noting the little freckles that pepper it; the small detail drives you to another level of impatience.

You swing your leg over him, feet coming to the floor; a temporary but necessary adjustment so you can step out of your shorts and panties. You stand there before him, happily naked, pleased to be free of your cloth prison. The air is thick and hot, but it feels good to have so much exposed skin for the first time tonight. With his eyes dragging over every inch of your body, you eagerly watch back as his hands come to his waistline and he undoes his metal belt buckle.

You look down and notice his boots are still on; you drop to your knees in front of him and you swear you hear his heart thump in excitement at what you might do. You look back up to lock eyes with him, and you reach down to his shoes and begin to undo the laces of his boots. Fuck, that’s definitely not what he thought you were going to do. With his feet free, his fingers fumble for the button and zipper of his denim jeans, and he slowly undoes them, lifting his hips slightly to let them over his ass as he drags them down, taking his briefs with them, until everything is off his body.

Now both totally naked, you rise to take a seat on him, but his hand darts out to your shoulder as if to hold you in place on your knees. He spits into his free palm, and takes his heavy cock in hand, slowly gripping the length of it up and down. You salivate at the sight, the tip of him is red and weepy with pre-cum.

“I think you look pretty good where you are, Hermosa,” he says, “always so pretty, especially like this,” he adds, still stroking himself.

You love when he uses his Spanish on you, his words sending a surge of desire through you like a bolt of lightning, your body responding with intensity as the sticky tread of arousal pools between your legs.

You inch closer to him, your hands finding his knees, and you gently pry them apart, creating just enough space for you between them. You look at him as if to say let me, and he releases his grip on himself, and you take over stroking his length. You lick your lips and position him at the entrance of your mouth. You place a soft kiss on the head of his cock, and smear the precum that’s gathered there on your lips like chapstick.

You hum in delight as you sink down onto him, letting your jaw relax so you can take him deeper, savoring the salty taste of his skin. He gathers your sweaty hair into a makeshift ponytail and holds it back from your face, allowing you to work him without distraction. And god, you’re into it – the sounds are filthy, but your delighted little moans have Javier unraveling like a runaway spool of thread. You look up at him through your wet lashes and let out a little wink, an innocent act considering your practically sucking his sanity out through his dick and having fun with it.

“Fuck, baby. Gonna have to stop or you’re gonna make me cum,” he says, holding the hair on your head taught as if to warn you to slow down, letting his head fall to the back of the couch, staring at the ceiling as if to think about something other than how good you’re making him feel. You let out a satisfied mew, and release him, a little pop sound fills the air as you do.

“C’mere –,” he says, a little breathless and sweaty. You rise to stand, your knees pink and sore from the ground, and he stands to join you. At full height, you have to look up to see his face, and you feel him grab both of your hips and twist you around onto all fours, your upper body resting on the couch for support. “My turn to taste you, Cariño,” he says, using his knee to nudge you, and encourage you to spread your legs open for him.

With your tummy flat on the couch cushions, your ass is on full display, and he fucking loves it. Using his middle finger, he inserts it into your needy cunt, gently curling it to sweetly abuse your g-spot. The moans that escape your lips only encourage him further, a light chuckle follows when he reminds you that he’s only using one finger and that he’s just getting started with you. He uses his other hand and pushes your hips and ass deeper into the couch, while his one finger stays in place, gently rubbing the spongey texture of your g-spot without breaking, making you squirm under the bare minimum he’s providing you.

You’re already wet, but once he thinks it’s enough, he extracts his finger, and uses his hands to lift your hips up, making you arch your back for him. He crouches down further to plant a tender kiss on your ass, biting into it very dimly, eliciting a little yelp from you in response. He slowly begins to move lower and lower, kissing the lines where your ass meets your thighs. He taps your cunt a few times with his thick fingers, each time getting a bit rougher, sending a stinging sensation through your whole body. The rough taps eventually become a full-on slap, and you move your hips in desperation, a mellow whimper escapes your lips begging him to give you what you need. He flattens his tongue, and moves it across the expanse of your dripping folds, lapping at you like you’re the cold refreshment he needs.

The tip of his tongue finds your clit, and he stays there momentarily to give it a little suck before moving it upwards, licking the whole length of your pussy. He continues to do this a few more times, before finally stopping and focusing his attention on your now swollen clit. You’re barely breathing as his tongue relentlessly pleasures your needy little clit. He brings his forearms onto the back of your ass, and uses his thumbs to spread your outer lips open completely for him.

“Javi – holy fuck,” you moan as he slides his greedy tongue inside you, moving it in and out as breathless moans continue to leave your lungs.

“Taste so good, sweeter than the fuckin’ cholado,” he praises, and you’re nearly gone at his words.

He continues to eat at you, but releases a hand and then brings it back up, under you this time, as his fingers begin to circle smooth circles over your clit once more; your whole body begins to shake, it’s so much. You’re moaning and whimpering at the feeling of both his hands and his mouth on you.

“Come for me – want you to soak my face,” he says, his encouragement is all you need and you snap. Your vision goes white, and your whole body tenses under his attention. He rides out your orgasm with you, ensuring no drop of your sweet juices goes to waste. Once your shaking has subsided, he lifts his chest and you readjust, bringing your weight to your forearms on the couch.

“Javi, need you, god, please,” you’re all but practically begging for him.

‘I’ve got you baby,” he coos, “gonna give you what you need,” he says as he strokes his cock a few times, and then places the tip at your slick and waiting hole. Both of his hands come to your hips, surely leaving little bruises under his strong grip. Your slick makes it easy for him to bury himself in you to the hilt, your greedy cunt taking every inch of him like it was your fucking job, like it was made for him.

He begins a relentless pace, thrusting his cock deep inside of you, the obscene sounds of the clapping noises, a song made as a result of your wetness and his thighs, spurs you on. He reaches out and grips the back of your neck, and jerks you backward into him, forcing you to arch your back against him. The new position lets him take you deeper, harder. Holding you against his chest, he snakes a free hand around and his fingers find your clit once more. He makes soft circles on your clit, working you with each thrust until he once again has you climbing the ladder to your climax.

“Just like that, you’re so perfect, Cariño, taking me so perfectly,” he praises, voice low.

You squirm and babble something of the likes of gonna come under him, and he holds in place as you begin to unravel once more for him. Your hole contracts around him, your perky tits bouncing as he continues to fuck you through it. You’re so tight, your sweet sounds have his own orgasm not far off.

Suddenly, without warning he stops fucking you and pulls out. You look back at him, brow creased, wondering why he stopped.

The sight is one you’ll remember till the day you die, Javi all sweaty curls, ragged breaths, hard and throbbing cock in hand, shiny with your slick, looking at you through needy brown doe eyes.

“Why – why’d you stop,” you ask, breathless.

“Turn around, Hermosa. Lay on the couch. Want to look you in the eyes as I cum,” he rasps.

You do as he says, and spread your legs open for him. Within seconds, he’s back on you, filling you up to the base of him. The dark hairs at the base of him tickle your swollen clit as he rolls his hips into you. A tingling warmth pools in his belly and surges through every sensitive nerve on his body, accompanied by the surge of blood that rushes to every corner of his flesh, his response making it obvious that his release is imminent.

His hips slow, and he lets out a rough moan, spilling inside of you. He pauses there, and you feel him gently pulsate and twitch as your walls drain every last bit of cum inside him.

He collapses on top of you, working to catch his breath, an exhausted mix of sex, heat, and general tiredness from the restless night. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, and intertwine your fingers around his now full-on wet locks and trace small patterns onto his back. You stay there like that, in your sticky embrace of sex and emotion, until your heart rates return to normal and your breaths find a manageable pattern.

He slips out, bringing with him a glob of cum that pools on the cushion beneath you. He leans back on the other arm of the small couch and watches as he slowly pools out of you. “Mmm, sure do love watching me drip out of you,” his gaze doesn’t move from the filthy sight of it.

He leans forward to drag his pointer finger through your folds, causing your body to twitch at the unexpected sensation on your tender clit. He slightly presses the tip of his finger into you, and his cock twitches and begins to swell like it’s ready to go again. He drags his finger out, now coated with a mix of you and him, and he brings it up to your lips.

“Taste us,” he says. You open your mouth to welcome the cum-coated finger onto your tongue. You savor the taste of the mix of you, an overly salty, heady mix of sweat and semen.

Once satisfied, he removes his finger and leans back once more.

In your fucked out state, you tilt your head toward the coffee table, noticing that the remaining cholado has turned into a sticky, syrupy mess.

“Sad that’s melted, I could really use something cold right about now,” you say as you reach your arms up and try to secure your wet hair into a little bun on the top of your head.

“How about a cold shower,” Javi offers, a smile on his face. He stands and offers his palm to you for the second time tonight.

Without saying anything, and without hesitation this time, you place your hand in his, and he pulls you off the couch and into his arms. His chest firm against yours, he brings both of his palms to cup your face in an embrace. He pauses momentarily before leaning down to place his lips against yours.

“And then maybe some breakfast?” He says, tilting his head to the side, signaling to the window.

The sun is now rising, bringing with it what you can only imagine is going to be another tortuous day.

Well, almost as torturous.

At least now you have each other.

Although you’re pretty confident you won’t be getting any sleep tomorrow night, either.

END

Tagging some moots: @darkheartgatita @elegantduckturtle @alltheglitterandtheroar @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @reddedmiller @morallyinept @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @secretelephanttattoo @ruinmepedro @papipascalispunk @dins-riduur-anthe @untamedheart81 @planet-marz1 @pascalpvnk @elvinaa @joeldjarin @javiscigarette @cavillscurls @bastardmandennis @janaispunk @endlessthxxghts

Oh hey! You made it to the end. Cool. Thanks for reading. Since you're here, I'll pass on a reminder that I'm just a horny little wannabe fic writer trying to make her way on this hell site and write things that make people turned on happy. Likes and comments are wonderful and much appreciated, but reblogs are really what counts in making people see this, especially for smaller blogs like mine. If you like this, please consider reblogging.

#javier pena narcos #javier pena smut #pedrohub #javier pena x reader #javier peña #javi pena #javier pena fanfiction #narcos #javier pena x you

199 notes · View notes

delicate-moon-princess · 2 years

Text

Exactly What You Need

Summary: It seems Sherlock understands your needs better than you do.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut, unprotected p in v, rough sex, outdoor sex, size kink, breeding kink, slight ass worship? (Sherlock just has such a nice ass what can I say?), old timey views on sex, brief mention of body changing during and after pregancy- Let me know if I forgot anything!

Word Count: 3k

Any typos are my own.

A/N: This was a request from anon for some size kink with Sherlock. But I accidentally deleted the ask from my inbox.😭 I hope you see this, anon! Sorry it took a while, I just wanted to make this perfect for you.💖 Please let me know what you think.

Your favorite place to sit was on the lap of your newly wedded husband. His warmth enveloped you completely. You sat cradled in his lap like a doll, the back of your head rested on his chest. As he loomed behind you like a predator, you could feel his breath brush over the top of your hair.

Despite his intimidating statue, you knew Sherlock would never harm you. He had always been gentle and romantic when it came to you. Just like today, he planned a perfect picnic under the old oak tree that adorned the estate.

The two of you reclined against the tree’s strong trunk, taking in the beautiful summer day. Sherlock was reading a novel as you rested your eyes. His hands absentmindedly rubbed your arms and shoulders, occasionally taking a break to turn the page.

As always, his gentle caressing began to set your body ablaze. The heat from his palms caused goosebumps to rise on your skin. You knew he felt them as he hummed.

“Are you cold, darling?” He asked you softly, looking away from his novel to gaze at you.

You turned your head to look at him, smiling bashfully as you shook your head quickly.

“N-No, I’m alright.”

“Hm. If you say so.” He nodded, not looking convinced as he turned his attention back to the book. You caught the corner of his lip twitching, almost smirking.

As he looked away, you bit your lip. He continued stroking your arm, making it even harder to relax. You tried to suppress your urges, letting out a soft sigh.

You’d been wanting him all day. You couldn’t remember a time you had yearned so intensely. Lunch had taken your mind off your desire, but now that he was so close and touching you so tenderly, it was harder to ignore.

Your eyes rolled back when he squeezed your shoulder, having to stifle a moan. You couldn’t help but squirm. Moisture started to build between your legs, damping your bloomers. A grimace flashed on your face from the uncomfortable sensation.

Sherlock must have decided to ignore your wiggling. You braved a quick peek back at your husband. He was still not looking at you. So, you felt confident enough to let your hips roll once more. There was a vague pressure on your clit when you rubbed your legs together.

A shiver ran through you from the bottom of your spine. You leaned your head back against his shoulder, squirming unconsciously to chase the feeling. Images of Sherlock filled your mind.

The sight of his nude body, shoulders spread wide and huge chest covered in soft hair. His biceps bulged. You could barely get your arms around the man because his abdomen was so thick and muscular. You fantasized about the feeling of his weight on top of you as he thrusted his big, thick cock in and out of you.

He was a giant in every way possible.

Another harsh tremble ripped through you. You tensed when you heard him close the book. The soft thud made your snap eyes open. You knew you were caught now.

“My, my. Aren’t you a wiggly little thing today?” He observed, lifting his eyes to you.

His smirk was evident when you hesitantly looked back at him. Those eyes you fall in love with were full of mischief. He dropped the novel to place both his hands on your shoulders. He gave them a squeeze, causing you to hiccup. He chuckled, knowing exactly what his actions were doing to you.

“I… I’m sorry.” You whispered, ashamed of yourself.

Your yearning was wanton. You should not be grinding against this man like a sinful whore, even if he is your husband. This sort of thing belongs in your shared bed, not out in the open where anyone can stumble along and see you.

Before you could lower your head in embarrassment, his fingers gripped your chin. Your eyes met again, and his hand left your chin to hold your cheek in his palm. His thumb stroked your bottom lip.

“Darling, what have I told you about being ashamed of your desire?” He could already read you like a book, despite the short time you’ve been married. After all, he was a detective.

“That I should never feel guilty about my desire.” You managed to whisper, knowing he expected an answer.

“And?” He pressed you to continue, slowly leaning down to press his lips against your shoulder. You gasped.

“A-And that all my urges are completely natural.” You breathed out as he peppered kisses all along your shoulder and neck.

“And who will always take care of these urges you have?” He murmured.

“You will.” You whispered, his curls tickling your cheek as he lathered your flesh with affection.

“Because?”

You gulped, “Because you are my husband.”

“Yes. And it is my husbandly duty to fulfill every need or want you might have.” He inhaled against your hair, taking in a big whiff of your scent.

“And I know exactly what you need right now.” He growled against your neck. The sound was almost menacing. It still ignited a fire deep in your gut.

You yelped loudly when you were suddenly flipped around and pinned to the blanket on which you had your picnic. He quickly hovered over you. Any sunlight beaming down on you from between the leaves on the tree was eclipsed by his enormous physique.

How did a man of his size move so fast? More so, how did he toss you around like nothing but a sack of potatoes. And why did you love it so much?

Your heart began to beat faster in your chest. All you could do was stare up at him in a daze, his manhandling of you only made you that much more aroused. You laid under him as he grinned, his eyes dangerous as he began to lift your skirts.

Your eyes widened when you felt this, tensing up. You hiccuped as you lifted your hands to his chest to stop him.

“Sherlock!” You whispered frantically. “O-Out here?”

You took a look around at the great outdoors that surrounded you and your husband. Never had you made love with him outside the comfort of your home. It was rare that you did it outside your bed. He did, however, manage to seduce you in other rooms a few times. His study, the kitchen, even once in the bath. Oh that was delightful. The memory caused you to leak into your underthings.

The detective watched as you bit your lip again. He grinned, nodding. You shivered when his fingers played with the hem of your dress and danced along the flesh of your ankles.

“Yes, here. What’s wrong, darling? Don’t you want me to make love to you?” He cocked his head, smirking playfully.

“I want you more than anything.” You whispered, blushing as you looked at his chest.

“Then we shall do it here. Though ‘making love’ would not be the best term for what I’m about to do to you.” He chuckled.

You shivered. Oh.

“My dear, we will rut like beasts. It’s really only fitting I take you while outdoors like this. It makes me feel that much more… animalistic.” He growled after pausing to think of the right word to use. You clenched your legs together, whining for him now.

Never had you seen him be so primal. You were thoroughly enjoying it, however. And you wanted even more.

“Please, Sherlock. I need it.” You finally admitted defeat with your desire.

He grinned as he watched you submit to your passion, he continued in lifting your skirts. His tongue came out to lick his lips. As he sought to expose you, you studied his features. His expression was one of hunger. He was starving for your body.

He tugged off your bloomers after he bunched your dress up around your middle. You jumped and whimpered when you felt the cool breeze upon your warm cunt. A deep growl rumbled inside Sherlock’s chest as he looked down at the sight between your legs.

“Look at you...” He murmured under his breath as he gazed at your wet flower. He licked his lips, taking a look at the beauty before him. His gaze made you squirm.

You watched him quickly get to work undoing the buttons of his trousers. You licked your lips at the bulge in his pants, knowing soon you’d get to see your husband’s lovely cock. He pulled out his length, stroking it a few times as you stared at him intently. His thumb rubbed against his leaking tip. The sight made you whimper.

Sherlock’s chuckle snapped you out of it. You turned red, caught ogling his magnificent manhood. He grinned, bending down to kiss you deeply.

He kept his lips on yours as he spread your legs wider so he could fit between them. You felt him rub the tip of his cock up and down your slit, moaning at the sensation.

“You are absolutely soaked, my darling. I wonder if I could just…” He trailed off, catching you off guard when he sank into you in one smooth thrust.

You gasped loudly, the delicious stretch of his length breaching your hole made your brain go haywire. There was always a little bit of a sting whenever he entered, but it mixed delightfully with the irresistible fullness you felt when he was completely inside you. Your eyes rolled back and you let out a moan.

“A-Ah…” That was all you could whimper as you tilted your head back, driving your nails into his clothed biceps.

“Shh, shh my sweet darling. It’s alright. This is what you’ve been begging for.” He shushed you softly, his hand coming up to touch your face.

Quickly, you turned your head to nuzzle his palm. His huge hand almost engulfed your entire face. With your eyes closed, you peppered heated little kisses along his skin. He hummed at the sweet affection, nuzzling your temple as he still rested inside you. You just needed a moment, that’s all.

“Your body was begging me to stretch it… to fill it with my cock. Oh, I know.” He cooed a little when you let out a soft hiccup. His vulgar language made your delicate walls pulsate around him, squeezing his cock even tighter. He grunted sharply.

“It’s a tight fit, isn’t it, love? An awfully big peg for such a tiny hole.” He snarled a little and straightened his spine so that he was fully stretched out above you.

With your height difference, your head only reached his chest. You leaned in quickly to bury your face in his vest. His handkerchief was still in his breast pocket. It smelled faintly of orange and clove from the cologne he dabbed on it earlier. Underneath the spicy sweet scent, a hint of tobacco lingered from the pipe he’d smoked before lunch.

When the smell of him entered your nose, you let out a groan and unconsciously clenched around him. It seemed like every little thing was making you ache for him. You were certain you had never been this needy in your life. He moaned when you squeezed him, tilting his head back for a moment.

“Oh yes, you’re ready for it…Prepare yourself, darling. Hold onto me.” He warned you, his voice deep.

Sherlock growled, bucking his hips. When the tip of his cock brushed against your sensitive cervix, you let out a soft cry. Wrapping your arms and legs around him, your mouth dropped open in a breathy moan. You clung to the enormous detective, knowing he was about to give you the plowing of a lifetime.

He propped himself up on his forearms and began thrusting at a brutal pace. You were sobbing into his chest with each piston of his hips, biting his vest to try and silence yourself. Even if your estate was a little ways outside town, your sounds were likely to attract anyone close by.

“Don’t you dare muffle yourself. I want anyone or anything lurking nearby to hear you scream as I take my beautiful wife.” He slowed his hips for a moment to murmur to you.

A snarl vibrated in his chest before he pushed back inside you and rested. A choked little whimper fell out of your mouth when he somehow managed to thrust deeper inside you. He grunted and panted like a beast. His trousers had slipped lower on his hips, exposing the top of his firm buttocks.

Your hands reached down to dig your nails into one of his cheeks, attempting to squeeze him closer. It wasn’t enough, you needed more of him. You needed all of him. Your second hand sank further into his trousers to hold his other cheek, allowing you to fully grasp his ass.

Sherlock moaned as your hands pressed into his bum, causing his muscles to spasm. You took the time to admire the plump cheeks that you always stole peeks at. Each time you caught a glimpse of his wonderful behind, you felt compelled to squeeze it.

However, it never felt appropriate to do so. Until now, that is. This felt like a perfect time to hold your husband’s ass. You massaged the firm muscles he had, occasionally squeezing. You even raised your hips in an attempt to presuade him to keep fucking you.

A deep chuckle left his lips. Sherlock almost sounded predatory.

“You dirty little minx. Yes, I know exactly what you need.” He repeated his words from before, sucking in a breath before he resumed his previous aggressive thrusting.

Each time he rammed his cock inside you, he would somehow nuzzle himself farther into your poor cunt, elicating loud and needy sobs from your mouth. The wind was knocked out of you with each thrust of his hips. The both of you groaned in unison.

It felt like he was in your guts by now, his manhood making itself known as it delved into your body roughly. Both the dull pain and overwhelming pleasure brought tears to your eyes. Your tears made a wet patch on his rustled shirt.

It hurt so good. But you needed more.

Sherlock bent back down to look into your eyes, your cheeks soaked. You had no idea what you wanted, you just knew that whatever it was- you needed it badly. The ache inside you had not been eased, and you knew one orgasm would not cut it.

Your desire ran deeper than a wonderful climax. You wanted to feel him inside you for as long as you could after he was finished fucking you. Hopefully the weight of him rested comfortably in your womb for a very long time.

“Please! I-I…” You hiccuped, cut off by his surprisingly soft hushing. You pleaded with him to take the ache away. If he knew what you needed, why wasn’t he helping?

Despite his gentle comforting, his hips never stopped slamming into you. You felt his hand cup your cheek as you wailed in pleasure, your eyes pinched shut. His thumb wiping a tear away made you open them, gazing up at your husband as he fucked you.

“I’m preparing you to take me, my love.” He grunted, his curls falling in his eyes. “To take me entirely. To take my seed. It’s what you’ve been begging for all along, darling. Your fertile womb is just pulsating with the desire to be bred by me.”

You hiccuped when he said that. Is that what you’ve been yearning for? To be bred by this man? By the way your cunt clenched down onto him, the answer was yes.

With his forehead pressed against yours, the detective let out a growl. It was becoming increasingly hard to concentrate as your body burned with desire. Desire to have your husband’s seed planted in your body. You were becoming impatient now that you understood what you wanted.

You squeezed his ass again, urging him to quicken his pace even more. The sooner you were swollen with his brood, the better. A raspy chuckle escaped him, giving you just what you wanted as he plowed you even harder.

“Yes. I will give you exactly what you need. My seed will take root inside you, where my child will grow large and heavy in your womb. Each day that you carry my spawn will be a reminder of who you belong to.” He hissed in your ear, never ceasing his pounding.

You gripped him tighter, gasping as his deft fingers rubbed circles on your clit. A cry left you, clawing at his flesh as he groaned. It only made you wetter, his cock making a squelching noise as he rocked in and out of you.

“Then, after you give birth to my strong and healthy son, I will fill you up again. And again. U-Until your body cannot take anymore.” Sherlock’s voice began to shake, you knew he was close.

The constant pressure on your nub was making your vision fuzzy. His words made it too much to go on. With one more thrust, you tumbled over the edge. Your cunt clamped down onto his throbbing cock. Sobbing, you held onto him tightly.

Sherlock groaned loudly and tossed his head back. Buried all the way inside you, he released his thick seed against your cervix. It was hot, which only fuelled your orgasm even more. You gasped, his spunk never seeming to end as he pumped you completely full.

The two of you rutted against one another, chasing your highs before you floated down together. Sherlock’s breath hit your skin as he planted languid kisses along your neck, both of you panting.

“The feeling of my children will live on in your womb forever, my love. I will leave your body with my mark; my pups.” He growled softly, his voice still thick from desire.

You felt a shiver run through you. If his offspring were similar in size to him, you knew you would never forget what it felt like to carry and birth the next generation of Holmes. Giving him a strong legacy will undoubtedly take a toll on your body.

And you wouldn’t want it any other way.

A/N: Sorry if my breeding kink overpowered the size kink. 😅 Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed.

Taglist: @sunshine-with-daisy @leigh70 @islacharlotte @lysarria @kebabgirl67 @pandaxnienke Credits: Divider- @firefly-graphics

#sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock x reader #henry!sherlock holmes x reader #henry!sherlock x reader #sherlock fanfic #sherlock imagine #henry cavill fic #henry cavill characters #henry!sherlock

3K notes · View notes