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#i swear I didn’t fall off the edge at the end
zazora · 2 years
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The amount of panic I had in this moment…
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intoxicated-chan · 10 months
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Between Your Thighs
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✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Miguel O’Hara x GN!Reader
✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ Miguel loves you with his entire heart and you love taking care of Miguel.
✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ Inspired by “505” by Arctic Monkeys. Can’t stop, won’t stop writing for Miguel, I just can’t. REQUESTS ARE FINALLY OPEN!!
✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 890
✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Gender neutral reader, mentions/description of intercourse, sexual content, receiving (male), pet names (Mi amor), swearing, dacryphilia, deep throating…
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If there was one thing about Miguel that everyone knew, it would be that he was never vulnerable around anyone. Especially to those who he just met, but there was something off with you. Your kind nature towards him made him want to tear his walls down almost immediately. Even if it was going to end up as a single night, nothing more.
But he loved the way your hands trailed down his chest, the way your nails dug into his back, the way you gave every ounce of your love towards him, to a man you barely knew. It wasn’t until he popped the question while in bed that he knew he chose the right one.
And when Miguel isn’t working all day and night, he’s the embodiment of a house husband. He knows how difficult he is at times and he’s happy that you’re so patient.
He especially loves those nights where you let him relax under your touch.
Miguel’s back hit the bed, his head hitting the soft material. His lower half of his body hangs off the edge of the bed.
You watch him carefully, your hand wraps around his hard length, applying pressure from the base to his tip where your thumb pressed against lightly. Teasing and massaging his tip.
Before you could take him into your mouth, you hear him let out a groan, and his hands immediately dig into the bed sheets.
Few pumps with your hand and he moans louder when he feels your warm mouth. You bob your head slowly, swirling your tongue around his length. There were even times where you pulled away to place kisses on his thighs.
You pay attention to Miguel’s moans, hollowing your cheeks which makes him thrusts his hips.
“Amor!” Miguel hisses.
You look up to find his head thrown back, his breathing ragged and quick, you could guess that his eyes are squeezed shut.
Suddenly, you felt a hand come and grasp the back on your head, forcing you to take him deeper. He seems to forget the fact of his claws, how careful he was whenever the two of you did something like this.
But you always reassured him that you placed your trust in him.
“Please!” He begged, lifting his head and his eyes meeting yours, “Please.” He repeated, eyes watering.
The sight of him made you smile around his length. You closed your eyes, letting him control your movements and allow him to fuck your face.
Miguel lets out heavy moans as he thrusts his hips faster. You didn’t know when he sat up and both hands were holding your head.
But you enjoyed the sight of his eyes squinting, his face flushed a bright red, and he looked so beautiful in the moment that you forgot that you were gagging around his cock.
But your eyes began to water as well. As much as you tried to control it, you couldn’t stop it from falling.
Luckily he didn’t catch on or else he’d stop.
He continued until he came into your mouth. He pushed you down all the way to his base.
As you swallowed, you rose to your feet and watched Miguel catch his breath.
“Are you alright?” You ask.
His head hands low, “I should be asking you the same question.” He pants, looking up and I see his watery eyes, “I’m so-”
“I’m alright, Miguel. You didn’t hurt me.”
Then it hits him, “I could’ve-”
“But you didn’t. That proves how much control you have over them.”
Miguel lays back, “…That was amazing though.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
He opens his arms and you lay in them, “I love you.”
“I love you too.” Placing a kiss on his forehead, falling asleep in his arms.
Your eyes flutter open, the smell of coffee hitting your nose immediately. And at the foot of the bed, Miguel is hunched over.
“Morning.”
He smiles, leaning over to hand you a mug, “Morning.”
“You’re up early.”
“Yeah, I’ve suddenly got another project. Which means-”
“Another all-nighter.”
“I’m sorry.”
You shake your head as you sip your coffee, “It’s not your fault.”
Miguel comes over to you, hugging you tightly, “I’ll make it up to you.”
You smile, “You don’t gotta, being with you is enough for me.”
You watch him get up from the bed and leave the bedroom. It wasn’t like he was leaving for work, he preferred to work at home so he had his own office. So, it was easier to check up on him.
Once you finished your coffee, you got ready for the day, showered, dressed in comfortable clothes and started fixing the bed first. Next came laundry, and the housework.
Hours later, you knocked on the door to his office, “Miguel, I brought you your food.” You heard him hum loudly, letting you enter his office.
With a plate in hand, you set it next to his hand, “Thank you, mi amor.”
“How’s the project going on so far?”
“Going great, might be done in a couple of hours.” He hums as he feels your fingers run through his hair, “Come m’ere.”
You set yourself on his lap, both of your hands in his hair, “May I ask you something?”
“Go ahead.” He mumbles, relaxing into your touch.
“How long have you been hard?”
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© 2023 Intoxicated-Chan, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without permission.
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cosmal · 11 months
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cake — send me in a character and a prompt and i’ll write you a blurb!
eddie munson + soft!shy!gf’s love language is gift giving. maybe friends to lovers?
guitar pick
summary you come over late at night to give eddie a gift.
content eddie munson x shy!fem!reader
Eddie didn’t mean to scare you, really it was an accident, but it doesn't stop him from feeling bad. But he really didn't know you'd be at his door when he opened it up.
"I'm sorry," you gasp. Which is awful because he should be the one apologising. "Sorry, Eds, Wayne let me in."
"It's okay," he says and looks down at you. Tights tucked into your frilly socks at your feet. They wriggle into the trailer-grade flooring. "Sorry, are you okay? I didn't mean to scare you."
"I'm okay," you sigh, and then you blink slowly. Eddie remembers it's late - really late. And you're here, jacket over your pyjamas, and a beanie on your head.
"Y/N," he says and moves out of the way to let you into his bedroom. You move, and despite months of being together, you're hesitant about it. You scuffle along the ground and turn to make sure he's behind you. You wait for him to sit down before you do. "Did you walk here?"
"Yeah," you say quietly, taking off your beanie now you've settled. "Eddie, it's fine, don't worry about it." You only live around the corner. Still, it's 11pm and Eddie feels like he might throw up.
"Y/N," he says and tries not to sound stern, "baby, why didn't you call?"
"Because," you sigh, nibbling your bottom lip unthinkingly like always, "because, I got really excited to come see you and didn't even think about it."
Eddie scoots across the bed and nudges your thigh with his knee where he's got his foot tucked under him. "Excited, huh?" He wiggles his eyebrows and feels pleased when you duck your head down to look at your hands in your lap.
"Eddie," you say downwardly, swinging your feet over the edge of his bed. "Stop, no, not like that."
Eddie doesn't sound disappointed because he isn't. He doesn't care why you're here, he's just happy you are. He thinks if you'd come over just to see the stray cats and not him, he'd still just be as pleased. Just to see you is enough.
"Oh?" he asks, leaning his weight into you. You lean with him and Eddie has to hook an arm around your shoulder to stop you from falling into his pillows. You giggle with shy happiness that makes Eddie feel fuzzy. "What're you here for? I saw you five hours ago."
You lean your face into his shoulder, cheek all smooshed up against the sleeve of his sleep shirt. Some Tom Petty merchandise from the dollar bins at the thrift store behind the arcade. It's starting to smell like you. You hide yourself in his side and he can't see your face properly.
"I've got something for you," you say quietly, waiting for his response.
He shifts to rock you. "Oh really?" He finds it hard to hide his excitement.
"You gotta," you steel yourself and Eddie squeezes your knee, "you gotta promise you won't tell me if you hate it. I don't think I can take it," you say seriously.
Eddie tenses and then laughs gently. "Sweetheart, I would never. I'll love it, swears."
You sigh and reach into the inside pocket of your jacket. Pulling out a rolled-up bit of tissue paper, you hand it to him. You won't look him in the face.
Eddie carefully unravels the paper in his hand and drops the contents into his other palm. A long, silver chain with a plastic plate at the end of it. He flips it over to inspect it. It's a guitar pick.
"It's, uh," you say when he looks it over, "it's one of my picks."
You're only new to guitar, mainly acoustic, bass when Eddie can convince you to sit between his legs and teach you.
"Oh," he lets out a deep breath, deflating, "sweetheart, that is so cool. Like totally, amazing."
"Yeah?" You're so shy about Eddie feels like he could die.
"The best thing ever," he groans before he falls on top of you and down into the bed. You yelp, still just as demure now that he's hovering above you. He cages you in with his arms beside your head.
"Eddie..."
"Seriously," he leans down to kiss you on the cheek, "so cool," the other cheek, "thank you," your nose.
You fluster underneath his doting, pushing your face into where he's got his arms around you. "Do you really like it, Teddie?"
Teddie Eddie thinks fondly. Of course, he likes it. He loves you even more. "Really. Actually. Truly."
It takes you a second. You smile something ruining and roll onto your back. "Cool, 'cause I have a matching one." You pull a necklace from out underneath your sleep shirt. There, on the end of the chain is a guitar pick Eddie had given way back when you were still just friends.
Eddie drops himself into you and groans, long and suffering. "Jesus fucking Christ, baby."
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thefreakandthehair · 7 months
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The tile floor is disgusting. 
Not Starcourt disgusting, but disgusting all the same. Grime build-up colors the grout lines, the back of his head is damp from condensation that drips down the sink he’s resting against, and there’s a damp spot beneath his left calf that he sincerely hopes is just the aftermath of someone washing their hands. A single lightbulb hangs in the center of the ceiling, dim but not flickering. 
Thank God, it’s not flickering.
It’s not the place to have a meltdown— he knows it’s not— but rationality is just the latest in the ever- growing list of things fighting the Upside Down took from him. After all, the dingy basement bathroom of a stranger’s house party is better than the densely populated living room of a stranger’s house party. 
He wishes Robin was with him, but he can’t bring himself to tear her away from the first real party she’s enjoyed. It’s not her fault that crowds set him on edge these days, or that he can’t stand the feeling of unfamiliar bodies pressing against him anymore, or that small talk about how humid it’s been lately makes him want to rip his hair out because how can anyone possibly give a fuck about the weather when the world nearly ended six months ago? No one outside of the group he’s come with gets it and he wonders if even in that group, even with the people he’s bled with, if he’s an outlier. 
No one saw him sneak down here.
He’s not expecting anyone to come looking for him. 
He should’ve known better. 
“Steve?” A voice whispers from outside the door. “Steve, it’s me. Open the door.” 
Robin. Of course. 
Steve drags a hand down his face, hovering near his nose where his fingers tremble at the bridge, and lets out a deep exhale before reaching over and unlocking the door. 
Wordlessly, he rights himself against the sink again as Robin locks the door behind her and sits cross-legged next to him. Silence sits with them, a welcome guest now with Robin’s comforting presence, her head tipping to lean on his shoulder and his falling to rest on hers. 
They sit like this for long moments, silence and the scent of Robin’s strawberry shampoo grounding him in the present. There’s no emergency, no threat, not when Robin is safe and clean and warm right next to him. 
Finally, he breaks the stillness. “You don’t have to sit here, you can go back to the party. It’s fucking gross down here.” 
“It’s way more gross upstairs without you there.”
“Oh c’mon, everyone’s up there. Eddie, Nancy, Argyle, Jonathan. Vickie.” He looks down and grins, one eyebrow quirked up. 
Robin rolls her eyes playfully and gently elbows him in the side. “Shut up, oh my God. She’ll be there when we go back up or I can call her tomorrow. Besides, she’s with Nancy and Jonathan looking for you.” 
“Looking for me? Fuck, I didn’t think anyone would notice—”
Robin pats his thigh and cuts him off. “It’s fine, they all know you’re okay but we just didn’t wanna leave you alone in the Brain Tornado.” 
“Brain Tornado?” Steve asks. 
“Argyle’s words, not mine. But it’s fitting, don’t you think?” 
Steve contemplates for a few seconds, considering the years worth of fighting and hoping and living that spin him around in untethered and unpredictable circles. 
“Yeah, yeah it is.” Steve sighs. “How’d you know where I was anyways?” 
“I know you.” Robin says, simple and matter of fact, as if it’s not the best response he could’ve gotten. She readjusts her position to stretch out both legs in front of her and Steve reminds himself that they’re both in jeans and not Scoops uniforms. 
“I just don’t know how to fucking relate to people anymore, Rob. And the crowds, if something were to happen and I couldn’t get to the bat in my trunk fast enough, or get to you or Nancy or Eddie—”
“Hey, it’s okay, we’re all okay,” Robin rubs her thumb in soothing circles into his bicep with her opposite hand. “We’re safe. We won. It’s gone.” 
She says this like an oath and Steve wants to swear to it. It’s just hard. 
“I know. But it’s still… I don’t know. This huge thing happened and no one else knows, so we’re in this sea of people who have no idea we all nearly died six months ago? And they look at me like I’m still Party King Steve Harrington when that guy did eat it three years ago.” His heart begins to slow and he sighs, less anxious and more confused. 
“I’m not gonna pretend I know what to say to that because you’re right, but there are at least five other people here right now who get it. And we’re the lucky sons of bitches, getting to know the Real Steve Harrington anyways.”
Steve can’t help the delicate thing that blooms in his chest when he’s reminded of the odd little family he’s built around himself. Or, in some cases, that forcibly built themselves around him. 
“Besides,” Robin smirks and Steve immediately knows what’s coming, telepathic communication and all. “Some people upstairs really like the Real Steve Harrington. And he might be going a little insane looking for you outside with Argyle.” 
“Shut up, oh my God.” He mimics her tone from earlier and drapes an arm around her shoulders, his voice softening. “We’ll go up in a few minutes?” 
He doesn’t need to say it. Steve knows Robin hears what he means. 
Just a few more minutes with you, and then I can face the world. 
happy (sorta belated) birthday to @stobinesque! I know I already sent this so it's not technically late but the last couple days have been a little wild so I'm just late to posting. <333
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kingkonoha · 1 year
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ave i will literally scream cry and throw up and die if you write smthin spicy like the connie hating your bf thing about jean ………
WANT YOU ALL TO MYSELF
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➙ pairing: jean x fem!reader
➙ content: 18+ only, nsfw/smut, modern au, swearing, smoking, drinking, kissing, jealousy, raw sex, creampie, spanking, punishment, multiple orgasms, oral, masturbation.
➙ description: you’re always sleeping with random guys. jean’s pissed off about it.
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Jean Kirstein was fucking jealous of the men you brought into your bedroom.
He was your neighbor, and he’d sit on his porch, smoking his cigarette, and watch as you’d bring home a different guy to fuck and kick out every now and then.
Afterwards, you’d call him and whine about how none of those useless men could satisfy you, and about how you’d have to get yourself off once they left.
He imagined you taking that cute purple vibrator and placing it gently on your clit, your face all cute and flustered as your senses were flooded from your self-given orgasm.
He’d kill to hear those sweet little moans. He jerked off to the thought, only to be flooded with anger over having to pump his fist instead of pumping inside of you.
Jean is…not exactly friendly. When one of your late night hookups mistakenly knocked on his door instead of yours, asking for you with slurred speech and a can of beer in his hands, Jean punched the guy in his stupid face, telling him to get off his porch.
Turns out, you ended up calling Jean to complain about your hookup never showing up, and Jean jumped on the opportunity to invite himself over.
You answered the door wearing a thin robe, undoubtedly covering some of your sexist black lingerie.
It pissed Jean off knowing that it was originally meant for someone else, but it didn’t really matter. He was gonna yank it off of you anyways.
You looked entirely too cute in that robe of yours, especially when the both of you were sitting on the couch, sipping on wine. He would’ve preferred whiskey, but if this was what you served all of your late night fuckers, he was more than happy to sip on that beverage.
Especially when you were ranting to him about men again, that cute little pout appearing upon your face.
He didn’t really give a shit. He was more than fed up with your sob stories, and he decided to shut you up permanently by catching you by surprise with a passionate kiss.
Your surprised gasp caused you to open your sweet little mouth widely enough for him to slip his tongue in, swirling it around yours as he snaked his large hand around your neck to hold you still.
God, your mouth was so warm and wet, he couldn’t help but moan. He pulled away, leaving a few kisses down your neck.
“Tired of you always talking about those useless fuckboys. How ‘bout you take my dick for once, yeah?”
Holy shit, did you take it.
Your pussy clenched around his cock like it was made for him and him alone. He held your legs back until your knees almost touched your chest, harshly thrusting into you until your headboard smacked against the wall repeatedly.
“That’s it, baby. Take that fucking dick.” He moaned in your ear.
Yeah, he wanted to hear those precious moans of yours, but they’d have to wait, because when he fucked you like this, he had his tongue down your throat, swallowing all of your cute noises.
He slammed into you with lust, anger, and jealousy. He had that perfect angle, and when his thrusts became more messy, you were cumming all over his cock.
That sent him over the edge, and he spilled his seed deep inside of you, only pulling to see his cum pooling out of your hole.
He pulled away with a string of spit falling from your connected lips.
His lips attacked your neck, and he sucked on the sensitive skin. He marked your neck because you belonged to him now, and he’ll be damned if he didn’t leave you with the hickeys to prove it.
As badly as he wanted to taste you, you didn’t deserve to cum on his tongue just yet. You see, Jean believes in punishments, and the tall man yanked you across his lap. He was gonna teach you a little lesson over making him put up with your bullshit.
He teasingly ran a hand over your bare ass. Everything about you was just so precious and cute, especially when you innocently asked him what he was doing.
He figured that none of your boy toys ever did something like this.
The yelp that ripped from your throat instantly hardened his cock, but he wasn’t done. He spanked you with his big hand until he was satisfied.
Satisfied with that, at least.
“You’re gonna clean my cock off for me, right, baby?”
Your eager nod made him smirk as he pulled down his pants, and he was quick to shove his hot meat down your throat. He roughly thrusted himself in and out of your mouth, gripping your head to further choke you on his cock. He swore and grunted.
He came down your throat with a sweet moan of your name.
You didn’t have enough time to catch your breath before he was picking you up and tossing you back on the bed. You tried to sit up on the mattress, but he pushed you right back down and spread your legs wide open.
Now, he was ready to treat himself to your delicious pussy.
Jean definitely moans while eating you out. He’s a hungry boy after all, and you just taste so damn good.
He sucks your clit until it’s sore, and he doesn’t care if you’re squirming to get away because it’s too much. You’re going to cum again, again, and again on his tongue and he’s holding you still the entire time, his eyes watching your pretty face.
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♡ thanks for reading!
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bvtbxtch · 10 months
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Angry Heart | Eddie Munson x fem!reader (Prologue)
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Summary: Your best friend Chrissy Cunningham always got everything she ever wanted, even you new friend and crush Eddie Munson. When Chrissy does the unthinkable, Eddie is left to pick up the pieces alone... or is he?
Pairings: Eddie Munson x Chrissy Cunningham, Eddie Munson x Reader (eventually), reader and Chrissy are friends but have a fallout. Minimal usage of Y/N
Series warnings: MDNI 18 +, Smut, fluff and angst (everything all rolled into one beautiful shit show), mentions of drugs and alcohol being consumed, overall adult language and theme. By clicking the read more, you agree that you are over 18! Ageless and minor blogs who interact will be blocked.
Word count: ~4.7k
A/N: this story is the weird brainchild of me getting a little inebriated and remembering how my divorced parents met and I was inspired. This is my first fic ever and I know it is NOT GOOD, but feedback is always appreciated. This is just the prologue to set up some context for our characters. I have a rough plan as to where this story is going to go but I am so open to suggestions!! Thanks for reading y'all.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
September 1985
Chrissy Cunningham was always perfect. And it was even more annoying because she was pretty, popular and nice to everyone she made eye contact with. That is also why you had been best friends since junior high when you both joined the dance team. When high school hit, she projected herself into the popular group by revolving your high school experience around cheerleading and the popular girls, where you happily sacrificed some of your valuable reputation to pursue both cheer and drama club. Chrissy was always there even though you were seen as less desirable as the other girls on the team. Even if she was in the back row, she would always be at your productions and would happily cheer you on. 
Although she was your best friend, she scared you a lot. She was on the path to a scholarship to her dream school, to getting scooped up by some picture perfect person and getting married and having her dream job. She would stay hot and pretty and perfect forever and as you were approaching graduation, you often worried about what was next for you - terrified of peaking in high school and amounting to nothing. Worried about not finding your own group of people, your own scholarship, and your own path laid out neatly like Chrissy’s was.
Eddie Munson, however,  was the opposite of perfect. If Chrissy was a sparkling smooth personality, Eddie was a jagged edge that very few people appreciated. He was a repeat senior who dealt drugs to all of Hawkins’ youth and  was unapologetically apathetic to the restraints that were supposedly placed on the senior class of ‘86. So when he happily worked sound for the drama club in exchange for free rentals for his DND club, many drama kids turned their noses up at him; except for you. You happily sat next to him at your first drama club meeting. There was something magnetic about him. From that first time you met him, you were determined to get to know him better. Your intuitions told you that he was going to be more than a background character in your own story. 
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Two friends from opposite circles, opposite ends of the spectrum. As you and Chrissy left the gym fussing over new uniforms and team drama, Eddie was on the other side of the school picking his lunch kit out of the garbage, nursing a new black eye; and a freshman on his left pacing a rut into the hallway.
“Last time I stick up for you, Henderson. I swear to god…you’re lucky I have extra shirts in the drama storage.” The metalhead mumbled. His dark curls pulled back into a low bun as he dug further into the garbage can. 
“How was I supposed to know that it was Jason behind me? I didn’t mean to fall into him!” Dustin pouted. Eddie had picked him off the floor after Jason Carver had poured his gatorade down his Hellfire shirt. Eddie would never admit it, but as much as he loved his precious club, he cared for his freshmen recruits more. Jason, being the captain of the basketball team, and therefore the resident asshole, gave Eddie the shiner for his troubles, and threw his stuff in the garbage as an extra favor. You rounded the corner with Chrissy as you saw the two boys, both looking worse for wear. 
“Hey Ed - Oh my god your face!” You gasped as he turned around after finally fishing his lunch kit out of the trash.
“You should see the other guy” Eddie chuckled, and winced
“What other guy?” When he does not respond to your question you turn to the freshman who looks like he has seen a ghost. 
“J-Jason Carver. Eddie was just trying to save my ass.” Dustin squeaked, his eyes glued to his sneakers.
“Come with me”. You grab his hand and lead him to the girls locker room. Chrissy hot on your trails. 
After investigating to ensure no one else was in the changeroom, you lock the door and sit Eddie down on a bench while you enter the small infirmary to retrieve the first aid kit. Chrissy keeps her distance, but sits down beside him and flashes him a polite smile. Eddie feels a pang in his heart as he feels his cheeks start to burn red. Chrissy lets out a small giggle.
“That’s really brave what you did for that kid” Chrissy praised. 
“Ahh, there is no way Henderson would be able to take on that meathead. I gotta take care of my minions.” 
Chrissy laughs again, almost too loud. As you pace back to the two of them, you feel like an intruder. You clear your throat and both of them look away, blushing furiously. You take a long sigh as you open the first aid kit to find the ice pack and a bandaid for the small cut that has formed on Eddie’s cheekbone. He winces while you stick the bandaid on and you gently place the ice pack over his eye. His brown eyes glued to Chrissy’s as you tended to him. Once you finished, you cleaned up and the three of you returned to the bustling hallways of Hawkins High.
“Thanks for the help sweetheart. I just wish this was a spiderman bandage or something.” Sweetheart.
“Don’t sweat it Eddie. I’ll see you in rehearsal later” you smiled. Chrissy eyed Eddie up and down as you said your goodbyes and Eddie turned around to go to his next class. 
“I never realized how much of a charmer Eddie Munson is,” Chrissy pondered. You felt a pit in your stomach. As much as you loved Chrissy, Eddie was your friend first. So many of your teammates had put Chrissy as a priority over you, and you always felt like a drifter between drama and cheer - seeing as you felt you didn’t totally feel like you belonged in either.. Eddie was finally a person that you thought was yours, something that Chrissy couldn’t influence, someone that finally didn’t care about your background or where you fit on the food chain. But, lo and behold, it seems that everyone falls under the high school spell and everything always seems to be too good to be true for you.
“Yeah, he’s a cool guy I guess. He does the sound for the drama club apparently he’s got a knack for music. Walked into him playing some Black Sabbath on the guitar in the drama room.” You tried to retort calmly, but your hands were trembling. 
“Black Sabb -?Hmph. I think that is going to give me yet another reason to go to the drama room… Since he seems to be good with his hands” Chrissy giggled and intertwined her arm with yours, leading you to your shared math class. 
“Chris, please don’t just play with this one, I do really like him. I think he could be a really good friend.” Friend.
“That’s totally fine! Nothing’s gonna happen. I guess I just realized how cute he was…Maybe I should ask him to come watch us at the next game, or hang out…afterwards” Chrissy winks at you
“You’d be better off setting up a deal with him” you poke. She giggles as you both take your seats. 
You could barely focus in math, mind racing about how much Chrissy and Eddie bothered you. Was it really just the idea of him and Chrissy being better friends than you? Or were you jealous? That’s ridiculous because you liked Eddie as a friend. Just a friend. Chrissy could go out with Eddie all she wants. You aren’t the boss of her - or him for that matter. Then why are you stuck on the way your heart fluttered when he called you sweetheart? Why were you constantly seeking him out in the hallways?
No. It can’t be. You’re just friends. 
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October 1985
Your body was radiating with anxiety during afternoon rehearsals.The pit in your stomach had grown to a full ache in your chest whenever you heard Chrissy talk about Eddie. The more you taked with him, the more you wanted to reach out and touch him, to hug him and tell him that he was the greatest, most interesting person you had ever met. But again, everything seems way too good to be true because every time you hung out with Eddie, Chrissy seemed to make her way into conversation.
 Eddie was teaching a freshman how to use the new sound board and you could barely get out your lines. All you could think about is Eddie and Chrissy in the locker room. Your performances were so uninspired that Mr. Taylor ended your scene rehearsals early. Your scene partner Eric gave you an apologetic pat as you both reunited with the rest of the drama club. Eddie sauntered up behind you and wrapped his arms around your shoulders. 
“How’s it going superstar?” He leaned his chin on the top of your head.
“Hey Eddie. I’m okay, trouble focusing today. I’m totally flubbing today.”
“Hey, so I had a question for you… about Chrissy”. You tensed up and broke away from him. You turned to face him but could not look him in the eyes.
“Umm, yeah what’s up?” There comes that ache you knew all too well. You could see it happening now, him finally choosing her over you. 
“Is she single? What’s the deal? Is she dating any basket boys I should be worried about?” He poked at you nervously. You tried to let a laugh escape to ease the tension but all that came out was an exasperated wince. 
“No, she’s single.. Do what you want Ed.” you mumbled. You could feel the tears threatening to well up. You brush past him and pick up your bag to head to the gym. Eddie’s eyes follow you out, but he couldn’t bring himself to go after you. What was your deal?
You trudged off the field after an exasperating practice after an exhausting rehearsal. You were so excited to leave this day in the past, grab some junk from the supermarket with Chrissy and hunker in for an evening of studying. In the locker room, Sarah and Tiffany giggle and look at you and Chrissy. 
“Hey Chris, we were wondering if you wanted to come to the mall with us right now. We were going to pick up some outfits for Halloween!” Tiffany briefly meets your gaze and looks back to Chrissy. 
“Yeah sure!” the blonde chirped “We would love to! Y/N and I were just going to-”
“Oh, well we only have room for one..” Sarah sneered. Chrissy looks at you with her beautiful brows furrowed into a perfect pout. You knew she wanted to go with them. You felt bad for making Chrissy sacrifice her social standing to hang out with you. You knew she wanted to go, but would never tell you. You decided to take the fall for her… the undesired yet again.
“Yeah, that’s fine, I got lots of homework to do anyways” you brushed off. “I’ll call you later Chris.”
“I’ll come over after!” Chrissy lazily offered as you packed your bag up and left the locker room.
You left with holes in your heart. All you wanted was your people to stay yours. You didn’t understand why that was so difficult.
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The shrill ring of your landline woke you from your desk - having fallen asleep while finishing homework. You flopped onto your bed and picked up the phone.
“Hello?” You yawned.
“Babe, I have to tell you about my evening!!” Chrissy squealed, she barely let you greet her.
“Oh, you mean the evening you were supposed to spend with me studying?” you jabbed. You felt bad for taking your insecurities out on Chrissy, but you couldn’t help it. 
“Oh come on now. This will make up for it.”
“Alright get on with it then.” You rolled your eyes and rolled on to your back.
“So you will never believe who me, Tiffany and Sarah ran into at the mall!”
“Ummm… John Cusak” You joked dryly. 
“No you silly! Eddie!” Chrissy yelped. “And do I have news for you!!”
You jolted up and immediately gave the call your full attention. This could not end well - either for Eddie or you.
“Sarah and Tiffany let you talk to Eddie in public?” you snorted. The insecurity seeping through the receiver.
“Well, kind of. We joked that the party next week would be best with something other than just the alcohol if you know what I mean” you could practically hear Chrissy’s eyebrows wagging. “So they dared me to go set up a deal with him… and I could see him practically drooling over me! I think he might like me, babe. And I think that I really like the fact that he does” she giggles maliciously. Attention. As kind and beautiful as Chrissy was, she was used to the attention, she thrived off of it. It worried you, the fact that there were hordes of guys that had been left in her wake so she could have an ego boost or something to do on a Friday night. 
“Chris, are you sure that’s, like, a good idea? What if you really hurt him?”
“Oh come on, Y/N, its just a bit of fun. Nothing serious! So anyways, I went over to his trailer about an hour ago and he asked for my number! Ugh!” Your excitement wasn’t reciprocated like Chrissy had hoped. Her squeals being the only ones that echoed between the two of you.
“What’s wrong? Why aren’t you excited?” Chrissy questioned. 
“I just - you’re both my friends, I just don’t want anyone getting hurt.”
“Ugh you worry way too much. It’s just some harmless fun! Loosen up, maybe then you could get some dates yourself!” she chided. You knew she was joking but it was the last blow to your breaking heart “ Anyways, I gotta get off the line just in case he tries to call! Love you!” with that you hear a click and the dead line. You sigh as you put your phone back on the receiver and flop back down onto your pillows.
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You always hated halloween. It was an excuse for anyone your age to dress up in some sort of sexy reiteration of some sort of animal or cartoon character and to get sloppy drunk in someone’s trashed house, unbeknownst to their absent parents. That is exactly where you found yourself; Chrissy on one side of the couch, Tiffany on the other, you smooshed in the middle (as per Chrissy’s request)  and half of the basketball and cheer team sat in a messy circle on the floor. How you got yourself roped into spin the bottle, you would never know, but your makeshift devil horns were giving you a headache and as much as you loathed blacking out in random people’s houses, you were nursing your fourth drink of the night (and were definitely feeling the buzz). Between the noise of people talking over each other, the blaring music, and Chrissy constantly blabbing about how much time she and Eddie have been spending together, you felt like your brain was going to explode. The only option that you really saw for the evening was to forget all about it like half of the Hawkins High population at the party. 
Jason grabbed the empty bottle in the middle of the circle and spun it with vigor. Everyone waited in anticipation to see who would be the lucky girl to get to kiss the king of Hawkins high. The room fell hushed as you looked at the bottle, which was pointing directly at you. You immediately felt like you were going to throw up. Since that day in the hallway with Eddie, you always held some animosity for Jason. The last thing you wanted to do was kiss the guy who went after one of your other best friends. Jason chuckled and elbowed his minions on either side of him, all of them snickering deviously. He stood from his spot and stalked across the circle towards you. You chuckled nervously and went to get out of your spot on the couch. 
“Hah, don’t mean to kill the vibe, but suddenly I don’t really feel like playing anymore.” You push yourself off the couch and go to step over some people sitting on the floor but Jason grabbed your wrist. Hard. You felt the world spinning around you, unsure if it was your sudden anxiety, or the alcohol. You could hear the faint whispers of Chrissy and Tiffany behind you, and you were suddenly aware of the 20 pairs of eyes locked on you. You tried to pull away from him with no avail.
“Come on, don’t be a prude. Let me give you the best kiss of your life, seeing as the only person you’ve boned is the freak” He pulled you into his chest and held your face in his hands. He pressed his mouth to yours, trying to weasel his tongue inside your pressed lips. You finally got the strength to push him away with a cry in disgust. You wanted to slap him but your bones now felt like jello and your feet cemented to the floor.
“She hasn’t boned the freak! She hasn’t boned anyone!” Chrissy laughed, not realizing that her retort did more harm than good. You wished the ground would swallow you whole. Finally, you muster your strength to move. You didn’t want any of these assholes to see you cry, to give them the satisfaction.
“Thanks, Chris” you whisper before running out of the room and up the stairs to the crowded living room. You were desperate for some air. Everything around you felt like it was constricting you, choking you. All you could hear was laughter and your vision felt like it was pinholing. You slide out of the front door to sit on the steps. You breathe deeply, looking around to make sure that there was no one around before you let your tears fall.
Chrissy made an attempt to go after you. After rolling her eyes and giving Tiffany a tight smile, she lifter herself off of the couch and pranced up the stairs to the rest of the party. She looked around the scatterings of people, but didn’t see you. She slid her way through the hallway into the kitchen, where her eyes found someone else she had been casually looking for all evening. She stumbled towards a mop of chocolate curls and wrapped her arms around him, hands covering his eyes.
“Guess who?” she slurred. 
“Hey pretty girl.” Eddie turned to her to give her a proper embrace but quickly took a step back. “Don’t know if you want to be seen doing that to me right now” he chuckled nervously. Eddie understood what being seen with him meant and as little as he cared for his own reputation, he cared greatly for hers
. Chrissy looked him up and down and fully realized the metal head’s beauty. Pale skin kissed with dark ink, beautiful brown eyes that shone - especially when he talked to her, lean figure and crooked smile. She felt like her brain was going to short circuit.
“You’re right” Chrissy cooed. “Maybe we should go somewhere a little more private so we could talk” She took his hand and led him up the stairs to a quiet hallway full of closed doors. They rounded a corner and they sank down the wall to sit on the floor, Chrissy totally forgetting about her mission to find you and Eddie being blissfully ignorant to your conundrum.
You had collected yourself and knew there was no way you could stay at the party. As much as you loathed going back into the chaos and as angry as you were at Chrissy, you couldn’t allow yourself without letting her know that you were leaving and how angry you were. When reentered the house, the first faces you were met with were Jason and his posse of meatheads. You averted your gaze but heard their snickers anyway. You refused to give him the satisfaction or the tears, so you kept moving, keeping your eyes glued to the linoleum. The tightness of your chest multiplied with the number of rooms you checked where you did not see a perky blonde ponytail. You needed to find Chrissy; you needed to give her a piece of your mind; you needed to leave. But everything was deafening. Things were getting fuzzy.  Determined to get a grip and find your friend, you trot up to the top floor of the house, in search of a quiet place to collect yourself. You were met with a long hallway full of closed doors. You continue down the hallway, checking doors to see if you could find a bathroom. When you round the corner of the dim upstairs, your breath gets caught in your throat.  You see Eddie sitting on the floor, Chrissy in his lap, their mouths messily mashed together. Everything came tumbling down. The combination of alcohol and shock makes you wrack out a gasp of air. Both Eddie and Chrissy looked up but with very different expressions. Chrissy looked almost proud of her conquest, ignorant to the hurt you were already feeling towards her. Eddie, on the other hand, looked mortified - turning a bright red. The look of betrayal was clear across your own face as tears threatened to fall again. 
“Im - I’m going to go.” you don’t wait for either of them to get up. Eddie pushes Chrissy to her feet and gets up to go after you. Chrissy grabs his arm
“Eddie, wait!”
“Chrissy, I am so incredibly sorry, but I need to go make sure she’s okay” He goes to move away from her but she stops him again and pulls him in for a chaste kiss.
“Please don’t let this be the last time we do this” she whispers into his ear and drops his hand. Eddie turns a bright pink and leaves her with a smile.
You trudge through the house, tunnel vision honing in on the front door. The urge to vomit increased tenfold. Eddie catches up to you. You hear him calling out for you but you can’t turn back. Too embarrassed and heart broken (and drunk) to be able to handle what you saw in an unfamiliar place, in front of strangers nonetheless. You swung open the front door and ran down the front steps. Eddie trudges after you, clearly upset about what you had seen. There was no way he was going to let this get between the two of you. 
“Y/N Wait” He sounds desperate. You turn to him and roll your eyes. 
“What? Is it not what it looks like?” you laugh dryly. “You don’t need to explain anything to me, I’m going home.” You turn to leave. You couldn’t take another person pitying you. You understood where you were on the food chain. Yet another person to think of you as second best to Chrissy.
“Sweetheart, you shouldn’t walk by yourself this late at night.” Eddie chides. The alcohol had finally given you the bravery you had been needing for the past hour. 
“Don’t do that. Don’t sweetheart me when you are literally going to go back inside and suck face with my best friend. Just - go. Enjoy the rest of your night Eddie. I’ll be just fine.” The tears freely falling down your cheeks didn’t convince him. He takes a step towards you but you turn to walk away,
“Why are you so angry with me about Chrissy? I thought I didn’t need to explain anything to you, but you seem really fucking mad at me”. Eddie’s words stop you dead in your tracks. He’s angry? With you? Instead of actual vomit, the words that come out of your mouth leave uncontrollably.
“She doesn’t like you Eddie. She likes the attention. She doesn’t like you like I do. She doesn’t care about you like you deserve to be cared about. And she likes the fact that I care about you way too much. Chrissy has to have everything. I can’t have anything to myself, but yet again no one gives a shit about me, about how I feel. How much I care because as long as Chrissy is there, she will always be number one. You are just  another conquest for her and ,and she is just using you” You stand your ground, chest heaving. There is a sense of relief that you stood your ground but you immediately knew you said to much.
“E-Eddie, wair-”
“You think that I don’t know that she’s using me?”
“What?”
“Look, Y/N I am really really sorry that you care about me and I am really sorry that you feel that way about Chrissy. But I really like her. So I’m cool if she thinks that she wants to have some fun for now. I’ll let her as long as she’ll have me. Just -  please stop caring about me, sweetheart. The last thing I want to do is hurt you. I want to be your friend but, fuck -I might be in love with Chrissy. I think I have been for a long time, but just finally let myself feel it..”
You stood in shock. Your heart shattered to a million pieces. Eddie’s did too. He loved having you as a friend and he loved having you in his life, but he couldn’t imagine kissing you like he did Chrissy, taking you on dates like he wanted to with Chrissy, going to prom like he wished he would with Chrissy. Not you. 
“Forget we ever had this conversation”. You turned on your heels and walked away. Hoping that Eddie would stop you and tell you that this was all a joke, that you were worth it, that you were his favorite and that he felt the same way about you. And even though being Chrissy’s friend was draining a lot of the time, you did  always have her. But everything changed in one night. This is the first night that you have ever felt completely  alone. You crossed your arms over your torso and started your walk home.
The next days and weeks went on as normal. Eddie seemingly didn’t tell Chrissy about your conversation because the phone calls never ceased. She still met you by your locker and she still intertwined her arm with yours when you walked. Eddie's gaze was aimed more at Chrissy and nights where you and Eddie normally hung out were now filled with secret rendezvous with the blonde. Although he still acted like your old Eddie, you felt a coldness from him. His smile never seemed genuinely happy and his eyes stopped glowing when he saw you. You kept quiet in efforts not to lose your only true friends at the school, but your shattered heart was refractured after every phone call you got from Chrissy, every detail you heard about their meetups or how soft his hands were or how great his kisses were.. You felt like you were crashing and burning but you kept up your facade to ensure you could salvage your fractured friendship, and every time you hung up your phone, you curled into your pillow and cried because although things were seemingly as they were supposed to be, you had never felt so out of place and isolated in your life.
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You were waiting for Chrissy to come over, books sprawled across your kitchen table in anticipation for your study session for your semester finals. She was over an hour late.You sighed as you pulled out your flashcards and started to review in an attempt to salvage the time you had already wasted. You were interrupted by your phone ringing. 
“Hello?”
“Babe oh my god I am so sorry I am running behind but you are never going to guess what happened!!” 
“What’s that Chris?”
“Eddie Asked me to be his girlfriend!!”
Part 1 when?
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frostironfudge · 1 year
Text
I Need You To Listen - Steve Rogers
Summary: For @the-slumberparty 's Week 3 Something New Challenge, I went with the medium mode - sex pollen but with exes to lovers. This took alot of work I ended up rewriting it entirely, I hope you enjoy!
Word Count: 7.4k || Dividers: @firefly-graphics
Pairing: Nomad!Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader
Warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, angst, smut, fluff, sex pollen, p in v, fingering, dirty talk, love bites, steve rogers dirty talking (this man), swearing, nipple play, past is in italics, sort of a post civil war rewrite so we're going completely off canon
Main Masterlist || AO3
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Fate works in the most hilarious of ways, a stubbed toe over here and a broken heart still being nursed over there. 
Tony Stark stands in front of your cell, staring at you through the glass. You don’t hold back your tears from him. Disappointment colours his features. 
Broken pieces of trust lay scattered on the floor. The damage by him was done. Leaving you to bear the brunt. Leaving you to walk on the jagged edges of the broken family. 
A family that shared jokes, laughed, drank and protected each other. 
Won together. 
Lost together. 
In the past few days died together. 
“How are you holding up?” His arc reactor gleams as he takes a seat on the stool. Unzipping the jacket he wears his arm in a sling. You close your eyes, more tears fall at the memory of the fight. An involuntary shiver as the chiling bite of the cold manifests itself from your memory. 
The cell isn’t uncomfortable. There is a cot in the corner, the bathroom has a door. The sterile scent of the cleaning agent stopped giving you a headache hours ago. 
“Why are you asking me?” You look at him, he should be mad, he should yell, call you a traitor. 
“Contrary to what you all think and did to me, I trust you.” He shrugs, left eye twitching, he rolls his shoulder. 
“How is the arm?” Your gaze falls to it. 
“Seen better days. You know, heart troubles.” He looks at Wanda’s cell, “Kid, Vis is asking about you.” 
She looks up at him, “Is Rhodes alright?” 
Tony presses his lips into a thin line, shaking his head. 
Wanda looks down at her hands. 
“He tore us apart. That Baron Zemo. I know you have a lot to learn, alot to grieve. The accords may be dissolved. I’m working on it. At SI we’re  preparing the bail documents.” He informs you all. 
Sam scoffs, “What about Cap and Barnes?” 
“James is in recovery as per my last conversation with T’Challa. Where Cap and Nat are I do not know nor does he.” Tony gazes back at you. 
“I trusted him.” Is all you can say to him. You stare at your palms, you couldn’t get the blood off. 
“I know, I did too.” 
“Tony.” Your lips quiver another sob at the heartbreak Steve left you with to deal. All alone. 
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Bucky fights Tony, you don’t want to see your best friend hurt. The man who took you under his wing when you joined in, your steps halted by the blonde haired man who harbours your heart. 
“Sign the accords.” Steve orders, you gape at him. 
“Steve, do you fucking realise? We’re here because I didn’t sign them because I am siding with you?” You almost yell. The tempreture drops as the snow cascades into the facility from the now broken windows. 
Bucky lands on the floor, a pained groan, his arm blasted off. He kneels, eyes widened at the implication. At the man he hurt irreparablely being the one to take away one of the curses HYDRA bestowed upon him. 
“Shit!” Your eyes move to Tony, slowly he rises from the floor. The suit broken in several places. 
“Y/N, you need to listen. You cannot go rogue with me.” 
“Steve,” You push his arm away you had to intervene. 
“It was good while it lasted.” He says and everything turns to static. 
“Wh-what?” 
“Look, I, we had a good run but I know your stance on the accords you’re just with me for the sole reason we’re together.” Steve says to you. 
“Are you serious right now?” Anger courses through you, your grip on your pistol tightens. 
“It's not even the accords. I, I didn’t think we would make it beyond this month. Look, I have to think about Bucky. Its all of this, it doesn’t, priorities.” He lunges over to defend Bucky leaving you defenceless. Your ears ringing, you watch as they fight, you can’t hear any of the clangs the groans. 
You stand there dumbfounded. 
As Steve throws Tony down the beam reflects off of his shield and hits you on the shoulder you’re thrown against the wall. Bucky meets your eyes, at least he seems apologetic.  
Tony tries to get up to help you, “Rogers, she’s hurt—,” The shield slams against the arc reactor. 
“I don’t care.” He says so easily.
You pant as the pain increases, both the burn and sting of his words as well as the physical injuries manifesting across you. 
Steve helps Bucky up, you try to push yourself to your knees, crawling to Tony while keeping your arm close to your body. 
Bucky looks back at you, his eyes convey his remorse. Tony breathes hard, you blink back tears at the glance Steve doesn’t spare towards you. 
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Eight months down the drain.
The morning kisses, cuddles, the random sketches of you he left as gifts all lose their importance. Remembrance only causes pain. 
“Mr. Stark, you need to leave.” 
Tony sighs, “I’ll visit, or I’ll have you guys out before that. Work some arrangement.” 
“I’m so sorry, Tony.” You look at his arm and back at his face. 
He gives you one of those sad smiles of his, the one where he pretends it's just another day, another common thing. 
“Aren’t you foolish to trust us again?” Sam questions him as Tony passes by his cell. 
“I just have to do my job. It’s the people who have to trust us.” Tony turns to face Sam. 
“So the people trust the missile maker millionaire Stark?” Sam knows the jab is stinging, Tony hated 
that about the company’s past. 
The rift was ever present, your friend looks towards you. 
“Y/N, let him know not to insult me, I’m a billionaire.” He grabs his glasses and moves away. 
You resist the urge to laugh, everyone would resort to their coping mechanisms. You’d have to bide your time here. Usually getting black out drunk was how you solved your own problems. 
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True to his word Tony has you all released on various conditions. You, Scott and Wanda are released together. 
When you reach the tower it isn’t surprising that there was a break in, you’d scoff that Steve didn’t come to break you out but he made his decision in Siberia. 
The faint scent of his cologne lingers in your room. Hints of Patchouli and Bergamot. You stare at the box on your bed. 
Opening it reveals a burner phone. 
“I got a burner too, one number loaded upon it.” Tony stands at the door holding a glass of scotch for himself and your favourite Vodka in a bottle. 
“Surprised he bothered.” You open the phone and it chimes an unread text upon it. 
“I didn’t get that.” He observes, you take the bottle from him. 
Opening the text. 
SGR: I want to talk to you. Please let me explain. 
You laugh bitterly, unscrewing the cap and taking a long sip. At least you can blame these tears on the alcohol. 
“Are you going to? Call him I mean.” Tony settles on your desk chair. 
“Nope.” You set your bottle down after three more sips, grabbing the edges of the opened flip phone you press. The phone snaps from its hinges and you place it back down in the box, “Did you track it?” 
“Fake return address.” He twirls the ice in his drink. 
The two of you bask in the silence. Drinking in tandem and out of sync. 
“Were you going to sign the Accords?” You ask after a while staring at the setting sun. 
“Nope,” He reaches for your bottle, pouring himself a peg, “I was having them redrafted. Steve only had to agree for them to shut up. My draft would have gotten approved.” 
“So confident.” You raise your brows. 
“Comes with the job title.” He rolls his eyes. 
“Do you think anyone will trust anyone?” You tap the bottle neck. 
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Steve’s laughter reverberates against your chest. He reaches up to cup your face. 
“Why is it so amusing?” You ask, not meeting his eyes. 
“Because it is, Poppet. I wouldn’t break your heart.” He assures yet again. 
You gnaw at your bottom lip trust was difficult to come by for you. 
“You want to know why?” He whispers, making you meet his gaze. His nose brushing against your own. 
“Because I have your heart and it's what is keeping me alive.” 
You lean closer, pressing your lips to his, Steve kisses you back. Hands pulling you closer. You feel his smile between the kisses and you begin to retract knowing what he was upto but it’s too late. 
Steve tickles your sides and laughter blubbers from your chest. He grins, cheeks flushed as you press against him. The thin sheet hides nothing from the way you feel. 
“I love you.” He says, you stroke his cheek with your thumb.
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“I loved him with everything in me.” You blubber out, tears falling down. 
Tony sits next to you, your head rests on his good shoulder, “I know you did. It's a hard road ahead, kid. Not an undoable one.” 
“I hate him.” You declare, “I hate him, he just, how could he be so selfish?” 
“Sometimes we all are, he is in the wrong. He didn’t exactly reciprocate the trust.” Tony sighs, you look up at him. 
“I’m sorry about your parents.” You watch him give you those sad smiles, he flexes and extends the fingers of his left hand. 
“He could have told me, I trusted him enough that he could.” He whispers then shakes his head. 
“Steve Rogers is an asshole.” You declare raising your bottle to his assholery. Then you giggle. 
“You just thought of the word assholery didn’t you?” Tony giggles as well. 
Both of you burst out laughing. 
“Hey Tone?” You ask mid laughter. 
“Yeah?”
“Thank you for being here, also can I get a box?”
“Sure.” He stands, FRIDAY has the box led by one of his tinkered bots to the room. 
“I need to check on Rhodey.” He says, “I’m a call away okay?” 
You nod, he leaves. The box stays on your bed and then you stare at the sketches hung around your room. With a delicateness that Steve didn’t spare towards you, you pack up the papers. Sealing the box with plastic wrap and head down to the safety deposit lockers. 
Your steps are misjudged and you drop your box of trinkets several times. The stupid ceramic mug from that couples pottery class probably shattered. 
You giggle thinking how it resembles your heart. 
Locking the box leaves you in silence. Your room is void of all things Steve except the one shirt he gave you on your first mission together where the two of you fell into the muddled waters that left the two of you in need to change out of clothes. 
The shirt smells like him, you curl up with it on your pillow. 
“This is the last time you gave your heart away.” You tell yourself. 
“This is the last time you cry over him.” You promise yourself. 
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Eight months pass and you all sit in the conference room. The accords are abolished. They reinstate Natasha, Sharon, James, Sam and him. Tony holds his flip phone. Resorting to texting rather than speaking to him. 
A reply comes when you all are back at the tower. They’d be there tomorrow. Rooms are prepared with favourite foods stocked up. You had requested your room be shifted away to another level. 
Heart ache didn’t manifest beyond those few nights. 
Your walls that Steve Rogers broke down were built back stronger. Impenetrable. His shirt was placed in his room by you a month into getting over him. 
You don’t pass by the floor, you’re a level above. Thankfully the elevators divide the levels they service and you won’t ever be on the same floor as him. 
The night is restless despite your indifference to all of them. They were the family you chose and yet you were abandoned by them. 
Dreams are but a loop of memories you have buried. 
After your morning laps you head to Tony’s lab. 
“They will be dropping in at SHIELD first. Fury wants to discuss some things and then they come back here.” He stifles a yawn. 
“You need caffeine my friend.” You hold up the coffees, “Luckily I come bearing gifts.”
“I love you.” He whispers gingerly while taking the cup. 
“Are you talking to the coffee or me?” You ask, taking a sip of your own. 
“I can love both.” He defends, whispering to the coffee he loves it more. 
You throw one of his discarded paper balls on him. It doesn’t phase him. 
“Are you sure you want to come along?” He asks for the umpteenth time on the drive to SHIELD. 
“Tony, I will leave you behind if you ask me again.” You glare at him. 
“I think you will be fine.” Vision assures a gentle smile on his face and he laces his fingers with Wanda. She smiles at him, her own mind filled with thoughts. 
“See we’ll be okay.” You declare. 
Minutes later you’re seated on one side of the conference room. Tony on the first seat, you on the second. Vision opts to stand behind Wanda as she sits. 
Fury sits at the head of the table. The door opens and Natasha, Sam and Steve step into the room. A thick silence settles over. You look at each of them and then back at Fury. 
Natasha’s hair is shorter and blond, Sam seems to have gotten leaner. Steve was sporting a beard and longer hair. 
You wondered if the post break up look was something you should have gone for, maybe dyed your hair blue.
“Well, as you know you all have been reinstated. The Avengers operate without any Accords binding them but they must be mindful of their poweress and the possible damage they may cause. A country has full discretion to forbid the Avengers from subduing threats that may lead them there and you must honour that no matter the cost.” Fury gazes at you all. 
“What if they need help?” Steve questions, you scoff. 
Cold blues flash to you. You roll your eyes. 
“The dissolution of the Accords was done keeping this one rule in mind. I suggest you make peace with it. You will not be able to save everyone from damage and hurt, it is better than causing it.” Tony adds. 
Steve’s jaw tightens. He nods. 
“Now since this is done and dusted. Official missions may resume.” Fury places down a manila folder. 
“Official?” Sam questions, raising a brow. 
“Agent Y/L/N here was liasoning with us for recon purposes. Kept under wraps. We have identified HYRA bases. Once the plans are sanctioned you all will be back on duty.” Nick sighs, “I suggest you all train together to get a sense of your skill sets and moves again.” 
No one nods. 
Nick shakes his head leaving the room. 
“Your old rooms have been cleaned at the tower. Access is via FRIDAY, food is stocked. Layout’s almost the same. Few changes here and there. Oh and there are new succulents in the living room.” Tony fiddles with the folder. 
“We can conduct a meeting about these missions tonight or tomorrow. You all settle in, there is a car outside and your vehicles are in pristine condition at the garage.” He informs them further. 
“No welcome back party?” Nat muses, you laugh. 
“I drank all the liquor so unfortunately no parties.” You deadpan. 
Nat and Sam stare at you. 
“It has been a difficult few months. I understand everyone will take time to return to a semblance of previous normalcy.” Vision’s words are both reassuring but also farfetched. 
Wanda grasps his hand and gives it a squeeze. 
Steve’s brows furrow in worry. He observes you trying to find any hints but you give him none. You learned to school yourself. An agent well versed in hiding her intent, emotions and aim. Your skillset is what brought you to the team and it is what you have. It's what you could trust. 
Sam nods, “Well best we head back.” 
“Yes we could use some sleep.” Natasha says, you flash her a smile. 
“Yep, well I have a few things to discuss with Fury.” You push away from the table first. Tony follows your lead. 
“Should you not include us in the conversation?” Steve says in his authoritative baritone. 
“Unfortunately, Captain, it isn’t an Avengers matter but a personal one. Which you aren’t entitled to know.” You spit back. 
His mouth opens again to speak. 
Tony beats him to it, “Where’s our Manchurian candidate?” 
“Bucky’s in the UK for a bit, after Wakanda we were there for a while. He stayed back for personal reasons.” Steve explains and you slip out. 
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Steve stares at your room door, knocking on it yet again. Two weeks since his return and you had avoided him in every capacity.
He had worked up the courage to knock on your door today. But there was no response as it was over the past fifteen minutes. He requests FRIDAY to check in and all the AI says is that you’re fine.
You had gotten back from a mission yesterday morning. You had to have been resting. 
“Why won’t she open her door then?” He mutters, pressing his forehead to your door, “Poppet, I just want to speak to you. Please.”
“Captain.” Vision greets floating out of Wanda’s room.
“Vision.” He acknowledges.
“Why are you knocking on an empty room’s door?” Vision tilts his head. 
Steve blinks at him, “This is Y/N’s room.” he states as if obvious.
“It isn’t, she switched rooms about three months ago.” Vision says
Before Steve can ask anything further, Wanda opens her door, “Vis.” She gestures with her hand for him to return.
“Wanda.” He walks to her this time.
“FRIDAY, where is Y/N’s new room?” Steve questions walking to the elevators. 
“She’s on the twenty-fifth floor.” The AI responds, he switches to the other elevator. 
“Captain, you will have to go to the ground floor to switch elevators.” FRIDAY informs him. 
Steve sighs moving back in front of the original elevator. It stops at every single floor; he almost misses the elevator as you’re getting on, luckily a Stark Industries employee holds the door for him. 
You bite the inside of your cheek. Looking away. 
“I want to talk.” He says over the all too silent but crowded elevator. 
Everyone looks at him except you. They follow his gaze to you. 
“I don’t.” You answer while staring at the numbers. 
“Poppet.” He says and you shoot him a glare before looking away again. 
People trickle in and out. 
Steve’s gaze is trained upon you. He nods politely at those greeting him but his gaze nerver strays from you. 
You look into your phone pulling up a forgotten game loaded into the device. Anything. Any stupid thing to avoid him. 
Finally it's just the two of you. 
The automated air freshener hisses filling the space with the scent of lavender. 
“Poppet I just want to explain—,” Steve steps closer, his hand outstretched. 
“No. I don’t fucking want to hear a word.” You seethe, you move forward pressing the button to your floor if it makes you reach quicker. 
“Poppet.” He grabs your hand, turning you towards him. 
“Y/N. Use my damn name.” You spit out, finally meeting his eyes. 
There is a tick in his jaw, he nods, “Y/N. Just five minutes. I know I don’t deserve it—,”
“You don’t deserve to even ask for a minute of my time. You never saw us work beyond that month correct? Well guess what? We don’t.” You push at his chest, he doesn’t budge. 
“I lied. I said those things so you wouldn’t follow. I could not have you living rogue with me.” Steve admits, you stare at him. 
“You lied?” You repeat. 
“I didn’t want to break things off but that was the only way I could ensure you wouldn’t follow behind me. It was dangerous. Poppet—Y/N,” he corrects, “I told you your heart kept me alive, I love you—,” 
Steve’s head snaps to the side, cheek turning red at the impact of your slap. You breathe hard, eyes tearing up. 
“That was not for you to fucking decide, you do not get to come back here and make your sorry excuses for being a horrible human being. Betraying my trust. Leaving me and your friend injured. You picked Bucky over us. You picked Bucky over me and I understand I would pick him too if I were you. But I would not fucking lie or leave my girlfriend and best friend behind injured horribly. You’re welcome back to the compound Steve. Even back to your glorious Captain America title. However,” 
The doors open to your floor, you step out. 
“I don’t know how you say you’re alive because I took my fucking heart back from your undeserving self. I don’t care if you lied, I don’t care if it was all fun and games. I don't care about you. I don’t want to care about you. You are a teammate because I am forced to consider you one. I don’t need to listen to you to provide you closure or a second chance. You fucking liar!” 
“Poppet,” Steve reaches for you again, you take off running to your door. 
“FRIDAY, deny access. Override only with Tony.” You order, the locks on your doors bolt and Steve keeps knocking and pleading. 
He sinks to his knees outside your door apologising over and over. 
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Natasha is pinned to the floor by Wanda as the latter grins triumphantly. Natasha praises her and they break apart. You take Wanda’s place and Sam takes Natasha’s place. 
Mixed training was now mandatory. 
You had almost burned Nick Fury with your glare. Steve hadn’t shown up to any, in fact he hardly was in the same room as you. 
Sam goes full offence, you block the blows. Defending yourself you had worked hard over the time away from official duties. 
Minutes pass by, neither of you yields. Panting you stare at Sam waiting for an opening to take him down. 
“Come on, that's all you got, little spy?” Sam teases, you laugh. 
“You wish birdy.” You stick your tongue out childishly. Wanda and Nat laugh. 
“Come on Wilson.” Nat prompts, “We’re bored here.” 
“Alright,” Sam moves, pulling a fake. You catch it a moment too late, as he’s about to tackle you to the ground you turn. Tugging on his arm as Sam’s eyes widen. 
The momentum thrown off both of you land on your sides, recovering swiftly he’s pinned to the ground by you. 
You grin at him. 
“How's that birdy?” You laugh at his irritation. Sam rolls his eyes. 
“Y/N.” 
Everyone’s heads snap to the door, Steve and Tony stand there. 
You help Sam up. Sam keeps an arm around your shoulder. Steve’s eyes linger and his fists clench. 
Sam takes his arm away. 
You roll your eyes, they land on Tony as he bites his cheek, oh this can’t be good you deem. 
“Wheels up in an hour for Rogers and you.” He delivers the news. 
“Sam, Nat, Vis and Wanda are needed to take on a bigger base with Tony.” Steve looks at you, “Fury’s orders before you try to whine your way out if it.” 
You glare at him, “Alright.” 
An hour later you’re on the jet with Steve. He doesn’t talk. The last conversation between the two of you was enough. 
“We won’t be splitting up.” Steve informs you. You nod, studying the layout. 
You frown in recognition. 
“I was here on recon. This is supposed to be a dead base.” You look up at him. 
“Fury said they detected activity.” He looks back ahead. 
“Hopefully it's just random people looking for shelter.” You look back at the plans. 
Steve hums, observing you again. Wishing it would be like before where the two of you would be holding hands. 
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Cobwebs litter the walls, plaster cracked. The scent of something decaying permeates through the space. 
Walking into the HYDRA base is carefully crafted, Steve leads with his shield. You keep a double check on the back trail. Something was not sitting right with you. 
The hallway diverges, you stand next to Steve, “Left side first then we can go right.” You whisper. 
He nods, “Stay close, I don’t know why something feels wrong.”
You don’t verbalise your own feelings, following in his footsteps. 
The hallway leads to an abandoned lab, the computers torn down and broken apart. Steve relaxes his defensive stance looking around the area. 
You move carefully through the edge of the room, “Something should be of value here.” 
“I don’t think there is anything.” Steve declares, “Let's clear the other pathway.”
You give another once over and then follow him back down the path. 
Your boot catches on the uneven flooring, “Shit!” You whisper yell as you fall forward. 
Steve turns, breaking your fall. You land against his chest and his arm encircles your waist. For a moment that echoes a broken promise of eternity he holds you close to him. 
Steve sneaks a moment he lost over a stupid decision. He takes what crumbs he’s given by fate. 
Your palm is against his chest, your head tucked against the crook of his neck. 
Why can't you move away?
Why do you want more of him? 
Why do you miss him? 
He hurt you. 
He lied. 
He hurt you. 
You break the eternity Steve was living as you pull away, silence stretches between the two of you as you head down the other hallway. 
It's empty yet again, you shake your head at the waste of time. Steve steps closer to the vials on the shelf. The liquid in them gleams a certain way. 
You hear a pneumatic hiss from your left. You turn quietly making your way to the wall. 
Steve studies the shelf again. There was no dust on it. No pattern on it. These were fresh vials. Then his eyes widened, “Y/N don’t!” 
You turn to face him when the hiss is louder and the slits of the vent open. A dust like substance pours over floating around you. 
A coughing fit grips you, you place your hand against the wall to steady yourself the gun falls as you clutch your chest wheezing. 
Steve pads over to you, trying to rub your back to ease the coughing fit. He asks FRIDAY to scan the micro dust to see if it is anything dangerous. 
The coughing fit subsides over a few minutes, your breathing shallow. You look up at Steve blinking away the tears. He cups your cheek.
“Are you okay? Do you feel anything?” He questions, gaze running over every aspect of you. Glove clad large palms moving over your form. You nod, but then your stomach cramps. 
“What is it?” Steve takes not of your discomfort. 
“I, it's my stomach—,” Your words are cut off by a whimper as the cramp gains severity. You lean more against the wall as the cramp travels across. 
Steve rummages through his mind to know what this substance could be, he had been to HYDRA bases before. He spoke to Bucky all about them, their experiments which he knew. 
He watches as your skin flushes, you squirm in his grasp. He steps closer to support you. 
“Poppet?” Steve makes you look up at him, your eyes have a dazed look almost glazed over. You feel his warmth through your tactical suit. His thigh between your legs and the ache the needy ache is all you know and you need to get rid of it. 
“Please,” You plead to him gazing at his slightly blurred blue eyes, your hips moving out of their own accord against his thigh you moan as your core makes contact with him. 
Steve pushes your hips away, “Poppet what—,” 
“Steve, it hurts so badly. Please,” You cry out wiggling against his hold. His fingers dig into your hips to keep you in place. 
Your palms cover his, you look up at him. 
You lean up, he shifts back. You use the distraction to guide his palm to grind down on it. Your choked moan has his cock harden further. He can’t help but watch as you use him. 
Logic hits him then when he feels just how wet you’ve gotten, before he can pull away there is a prick in the side of his neck. You begin to blur from his view. 
“Poppet, something is wrong.” 
You look up at him, why did his words sound garbled? 
Why was he falling to his knees? 
You look behind him, people standing and watching. 
The need clouding your mind clears in the slightest, “Steve,” you kneel next to him. 
“It’s okay,” he assures you, reaching for the shield. 
The cramp hits you again harder; you cry out in pain, doubling over and sinking against the wall to curl up. 
“FRIDAY, dis-distress signal.” Steve orders as his vision begins to blacken, he reaches for you with the last of his strength covering your curled up form with his body. 
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Steve keeps his eyes closed. 
Enhanced hearing picking up the dripping pipes from the left. To his right he hears your pained whimpers. 
How long was he out?
Chains bind his arms above him, the uneven concrete digs into his knees and shins. He would search for the shield in the aftermath. 
He counts four people by their rhythmic footfall. They were in the same facility. It couldn’t have been easy to move them. 
Lolling his head to right he watches you through hooded eyes, chained like him kept on your knees but you’re struggling. Squirming on the ground trying to find respite and crying out of frustration. 
“Sex pollen.” Bucky spoke, with a shake of his head in disgust.
“Sex pollen?” Steve repeated as if to confirm. 
Bucky gives him a look, Steve’s eyebrows shot up higher. 
“What does that do? Did they use it on you?” Steve questioned his best friend. 
Bucky shook his head, “It basically sets the libido up to the maximum, forces the person in contact to orgasm but basically they need to have sex, self pleasure seldom works. The intensity is higher to combat the inevitable effect.” 
A dark expression crossed Bucky’s features, he sighed sadly. Looking out at the view from his home in Wakanda. The house, though borrowed, was Bucky’s own. 
Steve had placed a few sketches of Brooklyn around. The place he used to consider home now changed. Steve stares at the more recent sketch of his home city. 
Two men out of time in a place decades ahead of the world outside. 
“How long?” Steve clutches his charcoal tighter as he forms the curve of soft lips on the paper. A stray tendril of hair. 
Bucky looks down at the half done sketch of your face. His heart aches for Steve and you. 
“Two hours, it gets progressively maddening. At first one can try to speak or answer what is asked. After that it is variable how long it takes for the need to become the sole focus. If nothing is done in two hours then its too far gone and well...” 
He had limited time, he could not gamble any further. Steve opens his eyes, tugging at the restraints to catch the attention of the captors. 
You hear the rattling, you look up at Steve another pang through your core. 
“Steve—,” 
“Ah, Captain. Welcome to the land of the waking, you were out for just under an hour. Now who is this sweet little needy thing with you?” The man asks, stepping closer to you. 
Steve growls, “Stay away from her.” he warns. 
The man raises his hands in defence, “She’s a little needy Captain,” he walks back toward Steve away from you, “Why so possessive?” 
Steve bites his tongue, “She’s mine.” he grits out. 
“I see and why is she yours?” 
He can’t tell them, they would exploit you but his will is crumbling swiftly and his mind is compelling him to speak, “I love her.” 
“Hm, it seems she needs you, Captain.” The man grins, walking back to you. His palm touches your scalp as he pulls your hair back. You want to recoil but the touch is soothing some of the ache. You look at Steve, pleading.  
“I could fill in.” He says suggestively.
You try to shuffle away but the grip on your hair tightens. 
“Don’t you fucking dare touch her!” Steve bellows as his thumb approaches your lips, “What the fuck do you want?” He pulls against the restraints, almost snarling. 
“I want to know where my Soldat is, tell me.” The man demands, leaving you. The words register as does the scent of cigarettes you recoil. You feel your mind working again, clearing the need to be fucked. 
“Steve don’t,” you warn him, he couldn’t sell out Bucky whatever this was, it wasn't worth ruining his life again, “I’ll deal with this…” you bite back the pained whimper. 
Steve stares at you, eyes wide and with an emotion you can’t place. 
“Oh but you know what is wrong with her don’t you Captain?” The man demands and you look to Steve, “Tell her the truth that burns your veins, Captain.” 
Steve wants to lie, wants to cushion you, “Truth serum?” He looks at the man who nods.
“Brilliant isn’t it? You’re compelled to tell me whether or not she chooses to be saved. You’re on a time limit.” The man taps his watch. 
“It’s a sex pollen.” Steve informs you, you stare at him. 
“That, that's why I need?” Your insides churn and your clit pulses as you watch Steve lick his dry lips before he continues to speak. The small insignificant action has your body wanting to be devoured. 
“Yes, and if you don’t get release, it’s fatal.” 
Silence stretches on the footfall of the three others has stopped, they watch the show play out. The consequences and the outcomes weighed. 
“Fight it, don’t tell them. It's not worth it.” You whisper. 
“Poppet you cannot say that. I am not risking your life!” Steve yells, pulling at the restraints again. 
“You can’t have him at risk again!” 
“I won’t let you die!” 
“You already left me for the dead once! You chose him once. Just fucking do it again!” You seethe, your skin clammy and you just want this suit gone. The material irritates you. 
Steve gapes at you, “I, I didn’t—,”
“Save it.” 
“As much as I enjoy a lover’s quarrel. Where is Soldat?” The man interrupts. 
“Gone.” Steve answers, “Poppet, please,” 
“Don’t fucking tell them!” You demand, “Consider it my last wish! Fight the damn truth serum.” 
“You are not dying.” Steve grits out. 
“Where is he, where is Bucky Barnes?” The man lands a punch to Steve’s face. His hair falls forward, slowly Steve looks up at the man. Rage colouring all his features. 
“I will let you help her. Just tell me where Bucky is, Captain.” The man promises. Steve considers, you begin to yell no at him. 
“He’s in the United Kingdom.” 
“Are you insane?!” You slump to the ground, “Do you have any fucking idea what have you done?” 
The man walks over and slaps you, “Shut the fuck up! You want a cock so fucking bad you fucking bitch in heat, I’ll give you one!” 
Steve snarls, wrapping the chain around his own palm and tugging hard until it breaks away from the wall. The man turns, gun cocked and ready, it's grabbed out of his hand by Steve. He looks at the man dead in his eyes before delivering the fatal shot.
You look up at Steve, as the man drops to the floor between the two of you. 
Steve watches the other three scramble about, he quickly fires the shots, he keeps one person alive. 
He grabs the other chain, yanking it with all his strength. It gives way. 
“Where is the shield?” He walks over to the man on the ground, pleading in pain. 
A shaking hand rises, pointing to the vault. 
“Access code?” Steve picks him up and takes him to the keypad. 
The man enters it crying when Steve presses on the open wound, “Don’t fucking pull any stunts.” 
You watch as the doors part and the shield stays there as a momento. 
You blink when everything goes out of focus. You blink again. Heat spreads over your body goosebumps raise across. 
Your thighs clench and you squirm trying to get some friction to release the ache. Tugging at the restraints is maddening. They don’t relent when you try to manoeuvre but no position provides any respite and you sob out as the frustration grows. 
“Poppet.” A warm voice calls out, you whimper. The hold on your right arm loosens and your hand reaches for the tactical suit. You had to get it off. You needed to get it off. 
You blink and watch as Steve’s hand stops yours, you push at him. 
“Please,” you whimper as another cramp takes over. 
“You smell so sweet baby.” He groans, the sound urges you on, you guide his hand to where you need him. 
His warm palm cups you the fabric of your suit soaked Steve hears your sigh of relief. 
“Going to take care of you Poppet, but you need to hold on for me okay?” Steve assures, breaking out your left arm as well. 
“Steve please,” you beg again, your mind screaming at your body, your hips move making you grind onto his palm. Your smaller palm wrapped around his wrist not letting him pull away. 
“Fuck,” He groans, pushing you against the corner and undoing your suit’s zipper, you don’t face him palms braced against the wall. Steve’s warm calloused palm is as though cold respite to your heated skin. 
He doesn’t waste time, fingers running over your folds, palm pressing against your clit. Your head tilts back resting against his shoulder, mouth parted moans leaving you. 
Steve presses his fingers into you, two thick digits and your walls clench around him he almost wishes he’d fuck you right there. 
“Fuck this pussy remembers who she belongs to doesn’t she?” Fingers curve finding the spot he very well could have placed. Stars line your vision as he hits the spot over and over, fingers curving.
“Right there Steve!” You cry out your ass rocking against him, pressing onto his cock. He keeps his thrusts hard and fast, palm rubbing your clit in the most delicious of ways. His grunts fill your senses.
Pleasure thrums from his touch to your body, your back arching as his fingers drive deeper and deeper into you. Your walls are gripping them back in not wanting him to stop. 
“I know sweet Poppet. I know what makes her weep for me. I’m going to taste you. But first you’re going to make a mess on my hand alright?” He instructs filthy words offset by the sweet kisses placed against your forehead and cheek. 
His other hand cups your breast playing with your nipple. Your hands fall from the wall, gripping onto his nails leaving indents on his skin. Steve watches your chest constrict, your voice choke off, eyes rolling back as your orgasm crashes into you. 
His fingers keep moving, riding your orgasm out, your walls quivering around him the sensitivity of your clit as it pulses. Some of the haze clears but the need just returns tenfold.
“Steve, please, I can’t, can’t wait—,” 
His lips are on yours, cutting you off, your suit pushed down further without breaking away from the kiss.
The shield clatters to the floor, his suit haphazardly discarded. Steve’s hands explore your body, remembering the planes he explored before. The love he whispered across your skin. Marking you with his touch, his lips, his seed.
“Wanna see you,” You want to turn, he grabs your hands pinning them to the wall. 
“No one gets to see you this way but me.” He growls, you feel his hard cock move between your thighs. His larger body covers yours, shielding you, watching over you. 
When your thighs clench around him,  Steve hisses, “Going to fill you up, sweet girl.” he coos. 
Inch by inch Steve’s length stretches you, your back arches. The relief the stretch of his cock brings is unlike anything else you’ve felt before. 
“You can take it, made for my cock aren't you?” He stills inside you, throbbing as your walls clench around him. He moans biting down on your shoulder the feel of you decadent, unable to be given justice by his mind.
“Heaven. Pussy feels so good, baby. Missed you so much.” He grunts, you push back against him needing him to move, “hands around my neck.” He orders, leaving your hands.
You wrap them around him, holding onto his now longer hair, soft between your fingers. Your mind remains you of the soft moments when he laid in your lap and your fingers combed through these locks.
Steve pulls you out of your thoughts with the snap of his hips. His palms gripping your waist anchoring you to him. Skin slapping against skin, his cock feels so good you could sob, the need turns into embers, your thirst being quenched. 
Each delicious, deep stroke moves you towards sweet bliss. You hear your name in an echo of his name. Steve watches the wall you mould against him, as countless times before. Your heart may have put up walls but your body left no space.
The way he sees the telltale signs of your orgasm he brings his right hand towards your apex, timing his rough circles on your clit to his thrusts. The sensations blooming become too much, your body alit with flames of pleasure, Steve moans as your walls begin to milk him just as your orgasm shatters through you.
He keeps his thrusts going, pumping into you. The arousal that spills onto your thighs, the mix of you and him. 
“One more.” He demands, fingers coated with the mix of the two of you, his marked fingers brought back to your clit, you cry out in ecstasy. 
The blissful haze clears, everything returning to you. The mission, the power, you can’t, you can’t, Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve–,
“Right here my sweet poppet, you will give me one more. You know I'm greedy.” He reasons, only increasing his pace, you thrash in his hold. Lips find the sweet spot of your neck.
It’s your undoing, you cum around him yet again. Crying out his name, tugging on his hair. Aftershocks moving through you. He holds you up, pressing kisses to your forehead, temple, cheek, jaw and shoulders. 
Grounding you, palms moving over you after he brings his coated fingers to taste them. Your head lols against his shoulder, you reach for his jaw, placing a soft kiss. Steve smiles at the familiar gesture. 
Helping you get dressed he follows as well. You’re lifted into his arms and carried to the quinjet.
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As it had turned out Bucky wasn’t in UK it was a precautionary measure they came up with to secure Bucky from any life threatening attempts. The guilt you had harboured lessened.
Steve had stayed away from you, once Tony and Bruce cleared you of any remnant pollen he took his leave. Avoiding you as he had after the elevator confrontation. It left a bitter taste in your mouth. 
As much as you felt as if you were an emotional fool for considering the thought of wanting to approach him, you missed him. Terribly. 
You knew your walls were useless against the one man who you had given your jagged heart to, the blue eyes you had drowned yourself in multiple times. Whether it was when he found your gaze across the room or when you were pressed against him.
Your feet carried you after three days to his door. Your hand shook when you knocked. Thoughts swirling through your mind insecurities gaining fleet. 
The door opens, Steve’s eyes widen then his brows furrowed with worry, then fall to the still fading love bite that  he placed on your collarbone. You shift your weight to either side. Hands fiddling with the hem of your top.
You look down at your feet, Steve’s palm cups your cheek. 
Your eyes meet their old home of blue.
“I want to listen.” You manage to say, his pink lips stretch into a familiar smile.
He steps to the side inviting you further into his room.
-x-x-x-x-
3K notes · View notes
munsoninthedark86 · 3 months
Text
We'd Catch The Rainbow(Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader)
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warnings: smut, unprotected sex, creampie finish, swearing, mentions of smoking weed, use of the word "daddy" pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader word count: o.7k a/n: well, here is a little something after being gone for so long. I hope I'm not as rusty as I think I am. Also requests are open!
He pumps into you, his mouth hot and wet as he leaves open-mouthed kisses on your neck and bare chest. It feels like it’s been so long since you two have had this privacy and intimacy. All it took was a little weed and that look in your eyes. That’s when Eddie had guided you to the nearest bedroom. Your clothes came flying off along with his own.
“Shit,” he moans against your sweat slicked skin. “Missed my baby girl so much.”
You both look down to where he’s pumping into you, his cock filling up that tight cunt. He’s almost too excited by all of this. He slows down his pace, his ringed fingers coming up to press against your face as he cups your cheeks. You let out a muffled moan when his tongue slides into your mouth. It’s been way too long since he’s fucked you.
“Missed you too, my Eddie bear.”
He laughs softly at your cute nickname for him. You’re always so sweet and so kind to him. That’s what attracted him to you at first. Your kind and sweet nature made him crazy for you. You showed him softness he hadn’t felt in years. And now with you under him, your legs wrapped around him, he’s falling for you all over again. Who would have thought a few months away while you were gone on summer vacation would make him so needy for you?
Your hands reach up to brush some of his hair out of his face, and he leans in to kiss you. His kisses always leave you so breathless. Your heart feels like it’s about to burst out of your chest. He laughs again when he nips at your bottom lip and it makes you squeal. He loves hearing those cute little noises coming from you.
“You’re driving me so fucking crazy, baby.” He growls in your ear. “Shouldn’t have let my little cutie go away on vacation.”
His big hands push your knees towards your chest, burying himself even deeper into your tight cunt. You’re both left panting and gasping as the new position brings you both different sensations. You feel even more full of his cock, if that’s even possible. Your mind starts going blank as Eddie begins snapping his hips harder and faster. It’s like he can’t get enough of you even if he tries. He wants to be so deep inside of you. It’s the only way he feels like he can be completely close to you.
“Wish I didn’t have to go,” you breathe out as he slams himself into you. “But ‘m back now, honey…”
He drives himself into you over and over, relishing in the way your pussy squelches from being so wet. He looks down to see how there’s a creamy, frothy ring of your juices coating the base of his cock. It’s almost pornographic to him to watch himself fuck you. It’s better than any video he’s ever seen. It’s better than any picture he’s seen in a magazine.
“You’re fucking squeezing my cock so good,” he whimpers. His balls are drawing up as he feels his orgasm nearing.
Eddie doesn’t want this to end just yet. He wants you to cum as well. He knows if he works this out just right, you’ll both fall off the edge together. You watch through hooded eyes as he brings his thumb to his lips and licks it. Then he presses it to your swollen nub, rubbing it at the same pace as he fucks himself into you. Your eyes roll back in your head as you feel the fire in your belly being stoked even more than before.
“That’s my good girl,” Eddie praises you. “Cum on my cock, babygirl. Come on, cum for daddy.”
That’s all it takes for you to fall off the edge. Your gummy walls begin contracting around him as you cling to him. Your voice is shaky as you moan and whine his name. Eddie throws his head back as the pleasure washes over him as well. His orgasm hits him hard, making him grow weak in the arms and legs. He has to hold himself up as best as he can as his cock throbs inside of you, painting your insides white. 
Slowly, he comes to a stop and he rests his head on your chest. You begin playing with his hair and rubbing his back soothingly. You never want this moment to end. It’s a beautiful silence despite your ragged breaths as you try to catch your breath. Eddie chuckles softly as he finally lifts his head and kisses you so deeply and so sweetly.
“Damn baby,” he says between pants. “You know I’m not going to let you go for a long time, yeah?”
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allthingsimagines · 3 months
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State of Grace
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“This is a state of grace. This is the worthwhile fight. Love is a ruthless game, unless you play it good and right” - State Of Grace by Taylor Swift
Rick Grimes x Pregnant!Reader
Summary: The group is wary of Aaron, until he reveals information that shocks the group to their core.
Takes place in season five at the start of the Alexandria arc!
Word Count: 5k+
Warnings: Swearing, childbirth, fluff, and ooc Rick
a/n: This has been sitting in my drafts for literal years. It’s not great, but I don’t care!! I hope you enjoy! Also, sorry for the formatting I’m on my phone!
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The group all stood on high alert as they stared Aaron down as he sat tied to the pole. He was an outsider and knew far too much about them for any of them to be comfortable.
Rick was at the edge. He would either fall off and lose himself or pull himself back. The group was doing their best to keep him stable, but after Terminus, the death of Beth, and his own wife being lost after the Prison he was close to being too far gone. The only reason he hadn’t yet was for Carl and Judith. If he hadn’t had them he would’ve been long gone by now.
Aaron was another threat to the group’s safety.
Rick stalked around him as the group watched on. He seemed like a predator about to go in for the kill. Rick had always been an intimidating guy, but after the loss of his wife and the months on the road he wasn’t sure he’d ever fully return to who he had been when she was alive.
When the Prison fell everyone got scattered. Rick had been in the yard, Carl with Daryl, Judith with the kids, and Y/N had been in the sick wing helping Maggie evacuate people. When everyone got separated she’d just disappeared. No one had seen her since that day and there was no indication she was alive. Rick had lost hope a long time ago. She was tough, but it was difficult enough for them to survive as a big group. There was no way she would have made it months on her own.
Aaron gulped as the group discussed what to do, “My job is to convince you to follow me back home.”
Everyone looked around skeptically at his words. Aaron sighed, he knew it would take a lot of convincing, “I know, if I were you, I wouldn’t go either until I knew exactly what I was getting into.”
Aaron looked around at the big group and took a breath to steady himself. He’d been following them for two weeks and still didn’t know half as much as he would’ve liked to about them. He knew Rick was the leader and had two kids. He knew a few others like Maggie, Sasha, and Glenn, but the rest of them were strangers for now. Yet, he knew they’d keep them alive.
Alexandria needed people who knew how to survive and navigate the world they lived in now. The only people in the community who knew how to was himself, Eric, Deanna, Enid, and Y/N. She was the perfect person to teach them, but she wasn’t much help outside the walls since she was pregnant.
“Sasha, can you hand Rick my pack? Front pocket, there's an envelope,” Aaron asked and Sasha complied as she brought it to him.
“There's no way I could convince you to come with me just by talking about our community. That's why I brought those. I apologize in advance for the picture quality,” Aaron said as Rick pulled them out and looked through them.
“No one gives a shit,” Daryl grumbled out and Aaron nodded quickly.
A few others crowded around Rick to look at the pictures when the baby began crying. The teenager tried his best to calm her, but she just wailed. Rick pinched his brow and sighed, “Carl, will you get Judith the binky in my pack.”
The boy quickly complied as he tried to soothe his sister. Aaron’s eyes widened and he felt his heart jump at his words. He quickly leaned forward, pulling against his binds, “Your son is Carl and your daughter is Judith?”
The group all shared confused looks as Aaron looked like he’d had a world ending revelation. Rick passed the pictures to Glenn as he moved closer to Aaron, “What’s it matter to you?”
He kneeled down in front of Aaron and glared down at him, “Why do you need to know?”
Aaron swallowed, trying to compose himself, before looking up at Rick, “Did you have a wife named Y/N?”
Rick physically recoiled at the question and everyone tensed. How would he know her? Carl stepped closer to them, Judith held firmly at his hip as she was quiet now, “How do you know my mom?”
Aaron looked sympathetically at Carl and Judith before looking back to Rick. He looked as if Aaron had flipped his whole world, “How do you know that name?”
“She’s alive. She’s been living in our community with my husband and I for the past few months. She’s talked about your family endlessly- I just didn’t put it together,” Aaron breathed out and he saw the whole group react to his words.
Rick stumbled back and stood deathly still as he paled. Carl moved forward, his eyes full of hope, “How can we trust you? Where’s my mom!”
Aaron nodded towards his bag, “There’s a picture of her in the inside zipper of my bag.”
Glenn quickly unzipped the pocket before pulling out the picture and passing it to Rick. Rick couldn’t believe his eyes as he stared at it. It was her. She was leaning her head on a man’s shoulder, who he assumed was Aaron’s husband, with a bright smile on her face.
She was alive and happy.
Rick let out a choked sob as Carl tore the picture from his hands and broke down as well as he clutched his sister to him. The whole group was visibly affected by his words as they all had bright looks on their faces. Rick pulled Carl into his side and pressed a kiss to his head, “She’s alive. We’re gonna have your mom back.”
Glenn cut Aaron free and he stood up and rubbed his wrists. Rick released Carl, but when he turned to Aaron to say something he noticed the odd look on his face. Rick moved closer to Aaron and felt his stomach drop, “What’s wrong?”
Aaron looked up at Rick and scratched his neck, “I don’t know how to say it.”
Rick pushed down his fear as he stepped closer to him, “Aaron what’s wrong with my wife?”
Aaron met Rick’s piercing eyes and breathed out, “She’s pregnant.”
Rick swore he’d died. There was no way that she’d lived, but now she was pregnant? She couldn’t be.
Rick grabbed Aaron’s shoulder as leverage as he almost fell over, “What?”
Aaron grabbed Rick’s arm, “My husband and I picked her up on the road five months ago and brought her back. We’ve been taking care of her. The baby is doing great and so is she. She helps our leader, Deanna, out as her advisor so she doesn’t have to leave the walls.”
Rick tried to take in deep breaths, but he could hardly comprehend that his wife was alive and now she was pregnant? Rick grabbed onto Aaron as he fell to his knees. He tried to breathe as everything became too much for him.
His wife was pregnant and she’d been alive this whole time. They were going to have another kid.
Aaron squeezed Rick’s arm and sighed, “Rick, she’s full term now and when I left she was having consistent Braxton Hicks.”
Rick almost fell over from how quickly he shot to his feet. Lori had those during both pregnancies and she’d given birth soon after. He needed to be there for her. Especially considering what had happened to Lori.
“What’s that mean?” Carl asked, quickly wiping any remnants of tears from his face.
“They’re false contractions, but they’re meant to prep your body for labor,” Maggie answered, coming up behind Carl and squeezing his shoulders supportively.
“Take me to her. Please,” Rick pleaded with Aaron and he was quick to nod.
“Yeah, okay, I’ll radio my husband to come get us in our RV. We can all fit, but it’ll be tight,” Aaron said, looking around for approval.
Everyone quickly moved to ready their gear and Aaron took that as his sign to radio Eric. He quickly moved towards his radio that had been tossed out of his bag and picked it up, “Eric, we need you to get us at the barn we scouted. They know Y/N. Her husband and kids are with them.”
“Oh my god. Okay, I’ll be there soon. Be safe,” Eric quickly responded.
Rick held Judith tightly to him as he moved over to Aaron and clapped his hand on his shoulder. Aaron quickly turned to him only to find his demeanor much more relaxed, more like the man Y/N had described. Rick let out a shaky breath and nodded, “Thank you.”
Aaron nodded and sighed, “She’s family to me too now. I’d do anything for her.”
Rick nodded as his nerves began to eat at him. The group packed up quickly and they all anxiously waited in the barn to leave. Twenty minutes passed before Eric pulled up and they all quickly filed in. He seemed stunned by the road hardened people that passed by him to get into the RV. The RV was big, but they had a large group now and they were all crammed in.
They all sat packed into the RV, each having their own quiet conversations for a while until Aaron’s radio went off. The whole group turned to look at him as he quickly fished it out.
“Hey, Aaron, you there?” A female voice said.
“Hey, Denise. What’s up?” Aaron responded.
“Just wanted to check in and give you an update. When are you heading back?” She asked.
Aaron looked around at the group and scratched the back of his neck, “Uh, actually now. I’m bringing back that group I scouted for Deanna. Tell her that we’ll be back in less than an hour and they’ll need to get check ups asap just in case.”
“I’ll let her know, but the doctors office is kinda busy today,” Denise said sounding hesitant.
“What? Did something happen?” Aaron quickly asked, sharing a nervous look with Eric.
“No! No, nothing bad, but we’re about to have a new baby around here soon. She wanted me to let you guys know,” Denise said, with a cheery tone to her voice.
The whole group froze as Aaron looked at Rick in slight horror. Rick kissed Judith’s head and squeezed Carl’s shoulder as he tried to be strong for them. The last time, Carl had to kill Lori after she needed a C-Section. Rick knew Carl wouldn’t survive losing his other mom the same way.
Aaron’s eyes softened as he noticed their family dynamic. He remembered what Y/N had told him about Carl’s mom and he could tell it was causing trauma to resurface for them.
“How is she? Everything going okay?” Aaron asked, nervous himself for his friend.
The radio was silent for a few moments until it crackled again and a new voice came over the radio, “She can speak for herself. I’m in active labor, not dead.”
The whole group shared a look of shock. It was her. Rick quickly moved to the front of the RV to stand next to Aaron, his blue eyes wide and unsure of what to do.
“And yes, I’m fine. I’m almost fully dilated, so not much to do but have terrible contractions till they come. Baby Grimes would like to make an appearance soon, so I’d appreciate if you hurried back. It’d be nice to have someone who I actually care about to hold my hand. You too Eric. How’d scouting that group go? They convinced yet?” She asked breathlessly as Rick and Aaron shared a look.
Baby Grimes. She hadn’t let go either. Rick had a child and wife waiting for him.
Aaron held the radio out to Rick and he looked at it nervously. What was he even supposed to say? Rick turned as Carl came up behind him and took Judith from his arms so he could hold her. Carl’s eyes were filled with a hope Rick hadn’t seen in years. Rick swallowed his fears and took the radio from Aaron’s hand.
“Darlin?” Rick said, his voice wobbling as he choked out the words.
The radio was silent for a moment before her shaky voice said, “Rick? Is that you?”
Rick fell to his knees at the sound of her voice. It was his wife. She was alive.
“Yeah, baby, it’s me. We’re okay. We’re all on our way,” He breathed out as a hand squeezed his shoulder and he looked behind him to see Daryl behind him.
A loud cry came over the radio and the whole group from the prison visibly reacted with relief of their own as they finally had a family member back.
“Oh my god, I swore I’d never hear your voice again. Is everyone there? Carl? Judith? Please, please, tell me they’re okay,” She sputtered out through sobs.
Carl snatched the radio from his dad’s hands and shakily said, “Mom, mom, it’s me. We’re okay. Judith and I are okay. We miss you.”
“Carl, baby, I-I-,” She started but broke down into tears and the radio went silent for a second.
The whole group went dead silent as the radio cut out, but quickly reacted as she cried out over the radio. Rick rushed to Carl’s side as he stared at the radio in horror.
The radio cut back in and Y/N’s groans could be heard in the background, “She’s okay! Just bad contractions. She’s gonna need to push soon, so hurry if you guys can. I’m sorry I’ve got to go to make sure everything goes okay, but Aaron knows where the delivery room is. Deanna knows and she’ll have Spencer open the gates as soon as you get there and let them through.”
The radio then shut off and Rick looked up at Aaron in abject horror. What if he missed his child’s birth? What if something happened to her? Aaron squeezed his shoulder and shook him a bit to bring him back, “We’ll be back soon. She’s gonna be okay. We have good doctors and medical supplies to make sure of it.”
Rick nodded, seeming like he was off in a different place. Aaron moved back to Eric’s side and helped direct him the quickest way to Alexandria. Rick sat against the door of the RV, his mind running over every worse case scenario.
Nothing ever went right for him.
Right now he could have his wife and a new son or daughter when he arrived to Alexandria. Or he could lose them both, and he was sure that he would never survive that loss again of someone he loved so desperately.
Eric pushed the RV as hard as he possibly could without blowing anything mechanical. A half hour passed before Aaron finally announced that they were there. They all rushed to their feet and looked out the window to find a fenced in town with guard towers at the gates.
The group had been in one place with high fences before, but this place looked untouched from the apocalypse. Aaron turned to the group as Eric slowed as they got closer, “When we get in the gates, you will all have to turn over your weapons. We don’t allow people to have them, unless they’re on patrol or cleared by our leader Deanna or Y/N. You will all be interviewed by Deanna and then get a check up by one of our Doctors.
Rick and Carl, you’ll come with me. The rest of you will wait until I come and get you or you’re showed to a house. This community is pretty sheltered, so please take it easy around them for now. Understood?”
They all shared nervous looks before nodding in agreement. The RV came to a stop and Aaron and Rick shared a look.
They needed to go.
Carl passed Judith off to Carol as Eric quickly turned the car off and opened the doors and Aaron, Rick, and Carl quickly moved out.
The group rushed towards the gate as it slid open for them. Rick and Carl hardly had time to admire the community before Aaron waved his hand at them, “Come on. Medical center is over here.”
They hurriedly followed after Aaron and Eric as they ran towards one of the closest buildings and people stared as they sprinted past. Rick couldn’t have given less of a shit as he just ran after them.
Aaron barreled towards a house and quickly threw the door open. Rick’s eyes widened at the sound of his wife crying out. Rick shoved past Aaron and rushed toward the room. The continuing cries became louder from the door at the end of the hallway.
Rick quickly grabbed the handle and threw the door open and there she was. His wife was laying up against a mountain of pillows with her legs propped up.
Dear god.
Her eyes pooled with tears at the sight of her husband alive and in front of her. She released the sheets from her clutched hands and reached out for Rick, “Rick- oh my god.”
Rick went to rush to her when a woman quickly moved in front of him, “Woah! Okay, I know you want to see her, but you’re gonna put her and the baby at risk if you don’t wash everything off of you.”
Rick hadn’t really considered that it’d been months since he’d showered properly. He looked at his hands and found they were covered with blood and walker remains. He hadn’t even thought about it.
“Denise he can- he can stand up by my head and he won’t touch the baby until he’s clean. Right Rick? I can’t do this without him,” She said squeezing her eyes shut and crying out in pain.
Rick nodded frantically, desperate to touch his wife himself after months apart.
Denise looked hesitant, but let out a frustrated sigh, “At least scrub your arms and hands with soap quickly and put on that surgical gown just in case.”
Rick didn’t say another word as he quickly rushed toward the other room where the woman pointed. He moved to the sink and scrubbed at his hands so hard they felt raw. The sink turned red as his hands were washed clean of all the remnants of the outside world. Carl quickly sprinted in, turned on the sink next to him, and did the same.
Once Rick felt like his hands and forearms were clean of blood and filth, he put the surgical gown on and rushed back into the room.
“You have to push! Come on deep breath and bear down,” Denise said as she stood between her legs.
She breathed heavily as she pushed for ten seconds, before she laid back and let out a groan of pain. Rick moved to her side and quickly took one of her hands in his own and pressed it to his lips. Rick tried to force back his tears and the emotions threatening to overcome him as he finally had his wife right in front of him.
She tiredly smiled up at him, her eyes shiny with unshed tears, “Hey Sheriff.”
Rick chuckled before he quickly captured her lips, “Hey darlin.”
Her smile was interrupted as she squeezed her eyes in pain and clutched onto his hand tightly.
“How’s she doin Doc?” Rick asked worriedly, Lori’s death at the front of his mind.
Denise tried to smile comfortingly and said, “She’s doing great, but you’ve got to keep pushing. Baby’s almost here.”
Rick looked down at his wife and squeezed her hand, “You can do it. I’m right here.”
“Me too,” Carl said as he rushed to her other side.
Her eyes brightened at the sight of her son at her side. She took Carl’s hand and nodded as she sat up, “Yeah, I’ve got you two now. I can do this.”
“Fuck yeah you can mom,” Carl said beaming at her.
Rick laughed at his words and she shook her head with a loving smile directed at him, “I missed you, but watch your language baby.”
Carl smirked and he and his dad shared a look as she got ready. Denise smiled at the family before clearing her throat, “Okay, after this next contraction you need to push again. Make it count you’re almost there.”
She nodded and shared a nervous look with Rick. Rick squeezed her hand and quickly kissed her forehead, “You can do this baby. We’re right here.”
She nodded before letting out a shaky breath and squeezing her eyes shut as Denise indicated for her to push. After the seconds of silence she cried out and fell back, but Rick quickly slid his arm around her waist to catch her, “You’re doing great darlin.”
She nodded against his shoulder as she mentally prepared herself to push again.
“I can see the head. One more good push and it’ll be done,” Denise said.
She nodded and she took another deep breath, “That better be a goddamn promise Denise.”
Denise smiled and shook her head, “If it’s not, I’ll give you my bottle of bourbon.”
She let out a shaky laugh and smiled at her, “You’ve got a deal.”
She looked at both of her boys and felt determination swell in her chest. She felt the contraction come on and she pushed with everything she had.
Rick brushed the hair out of her face as she cried out again. Then the room was filled with a sharp cry.
Rick felt his whole body tense as Denise beamed at them as she lifted the baby up, “It’s a girl. She’s beautiful.”
She immediately began to cry as Denise nodded at Rick, “Wanna cut the umbilical cord dad?”
Rick nodded and shared a look with Carl. Carl nodded and quickly moved his arm around his mom to support her sitting up as tears of joy streaked down his face. Rick took the scissors and cut the umbilical cord where she directed as she quickly cleaned his daughter.
Carl helped his mom get more comfortable on the pillows as they waited for Denise. Carl pressed a kiss to her cheek, “I love you mom.”
She smiled up at her oldest boy, “I love you too baby. I’m so glad you’re here. I couldn’t have done this without you.”
Rick’s eyes were full of tears as he carefully looked over Denise’s shoulder as she checked over his daughter. He hadn’t really felt this way since Carl was born. He felt like he was teetering on an edge as he waited to see his youngest daughter.
Denise turned around and Rick moved to her side. Denise smiled softly as she carefully passed the small bundle to her outstretched arms, “She’s healthy and looks perfect. You did great Y/N.”
She let out a choked sob as she took her daughter into her arms, “Hey sweetheart.”
Rick finally let his tears fall as he looked down at his beautiful daughter. She leaned into Rick’s embrace and gently stroked her baby’s cheek, “You’re so so loved already.”
Carl sniffled as he leaned closer to his mom to get a better look at his youngest sister. She looked up at him and smiled brightly, “This is your big brother, Carl. He’s gonna be the best big brother ever and he’s always gonna be there for you .”
Carl nodded as she lifted her up closer to him so he could see her for a moment. Then she turned and her eyes met Rick’s that were filled with emotion. She moved her daughter now to Rick’s side so he could see his little girl.
“This is your daddy. He looks mean and grumpy, but he’s a softie I promise. He’ll always keep you safe,” She said with a gentle smile as he got to look at his daughter.
Rick brushed his finger over her small cheeks and choked out sob. He pressed a kiss to his wife’s head, “I love you more than anything. Thank you.”
She pulled away from him before she leaned up and kissed him. She pulled away breathlessly and smiled before moving her gaze to her daughter, “You can thank Hope for getting us here. I would have died a long time ago if I hadn’t been fighting for her.”
Rick raised an eyebrow and smiled, “Hope? That’s her name?”
She nodded resolutely and beamed, “Been calling her Hope since I found out I was pregnant. Hope Willow Grimes.”
Rick nodded and smiled down at his daughter, “Hope’s a great name for her.”
She nodded before turning to give her boys a tired look, “As much as I love you both, you reek of blood and sweat. Aaron can take you to one of the empty houses to get cleaned up. Then you can come back and hold her. Okay?”
Rick felt his whole being begging him to stay, but she was right. He pressed a kiss to her head and looked down at his daughter before stepping away, “Kay, but you send someone for us if you need anything.”
She nodded as Rick and Carl moved towards the door, “Got it Sheriff. Will you bring back Judith and the others?”
Rick nodded and smiled, “Promise. Trust me they’ll be begging to come see you as soon as we get there.”
“Well, tell ‘em I’ll give ‘em a pass for not getting a baby gift in time,” She joked as she rocked their daughter gently.
A knock came from the door and they all turned to find Aaron and Eric standing there. They both stepped into the room and Aaron smiled sheepishly, “Sorry, we didn’t wanna intrude, but I overheard you. I’ll take them to the house Deanna is setting them up in. She’s gonna set your group up in three houses. Some of the residents are moving your stuff into a separate house so you guys will be together.”
Y/N smiled and waved them into the room, “You’d never intrude. Come see her.”
Eric moved to her side and smiled down at the baby. Aaron held out his hand for Rick to shake, “Congratulations.”
Rick paused for a moment before pulling Aaron in for a tight hug. Aaron tensed for a moment before clapping Rick on the back. They pulled apart and Rick nodded in thanks, “This is all cause of you. Thank you.”
Aaron smiled at the sight of his husband and friend cooing over the baby, “Come on. I’ll take you guys to get cleaned up.”
The boys hesitantly followed after him and to the house. An hour passed and Y/N fed her daughter as she talked to Eric.
“When you mentioned your husband he wasn’t quite what I pictured,” Eric said as he rocked back in his chair.
She raised an eyebrow at him, “What’s so different?”
Eric rolled his eyes, “Y’know for being in an apocalypse where you don’t have many options you bagged one of the finest men I have ever seen.”
She burst out laughing as she grinned at him, “Oh, I know. Trust me I was fighting off women left and right when we lived at the prison. You better believe if I see Jessie anywhere near him or my kids I’ll throw her out like a farm cat.”
Eric snorted and beamed, “I believe it. I’d love to see you take her down. She’s had it coming for years.”
A soft knock came from the door and Y/N sat up and adjusted her little girl in her arms, “Come in.”
The door slowly opened and her husband came into view and her eyes lit up. Rick came in and walked over to her. Eric smiled at the pair and stood up, “I’m gonna go make sure you guys have everything set up.”
She smiled softly at him as he moved to the doorway, “Thank you.”
Eric nodded and shut the door behind him. Rick had changed into new clothes and cleaned up his beard now. He came and sat at her side on the bed, “You feelin okay darlin?”
She nodded and leaned against his shoulder, “About as good as you can be after pushing a baby out of you.”
Rick chuckled in response and she met his eyes. Rick cupped her face as her eyes lit up teasingly, “Lookin good Sherriff.”
Rick pulled her in and pressed a firm kiss against her lips. After a moment passed they pulled apart and she muttered, “I love you.”
Rick kissed her quickly again and moved back, “I love you too.”
“Wanna hold her?” She asked gently holding her out to Rick.
Rick swallowed nervously and held out his arms and she passed Hope into his arms. Rick let out a shaky laugh as he finally got to hold her. He shared a look of awe with Y/N as he gently rocked her.
She pressed a kiss to Rick’s jaw with a smile, “You’re a natural.”
Rick smiled, his eyes staying on his youngest, “Comes with practice.”
The pair were silent for awhile as they watched their daughter. Y/N let out a shaky breath and leaned her head on Rick’s shoulder, “Who isn’t here?”
The silence was palpable between them as she pressed a kiss to Rick’s shoulder, “I- I just need to know, please.”
Rick nodded, keeping his eyes on their youngest, “Beth. She escaped with Daryl, but she got kidnapped by a group in Atlanta. We almost got her back, but she got killed before we could leave.”
Y/N swallowed back her tears and pressed her head into his shoulder and squeezed his arm, “Y’know no one would ever blame you for that, right? You tried your best and that’s all you can do sometimes.”
Rick nodded silently before pressing a kiss to her head. Y/N reached out to brush her finger over Hope’s soft cheek. Rick leaned back and wrapped an arm around Y/N’s shoulders and held his daughter with the other, “Anything we need to know about here?”
Y/N sighed heavily, “They’re weak. These people never learned how to survive outside the walls, because they never had to. Deanna understands what the world is and usually lets me call the shots when it comes to anything outside the walls.”
“Any pushback?” Rick said as he gently rocked Hope.
Y/N scoffed at his words, “Yeah, just a bit.”
“Anyone I need to kill?” Rick joked dryly, his arm tightening around her.
“Not yet. Deanna’s son, Spencer, is a liability. He doesn’t appreciate that I completely changed their tactics for runs, even if it was getting people killed. Spencer and his friend Nicholas are pretty much all talk, but they’re not shy about opposing anything I say. Oh, and watch out for Jessie,” She said leaning further into Rick’s chest, annoyance filling her while thinking about the town home wrecker.
Rick narrowed his eyes at her change in demeanor. He gently lifted her chin so she would meet his gaze. Despite having just given birth to their child, she still felt a pang of insecurity claw at her heart. Rick held her chin gently in his hand as his intense blue eyes met hers, “I have killed people to protect you. I would kill anyone to keep this family safe. You are the only woman I will ever want. Tell me you know that.”
Y/N smiled somewhat bashfully at his words. Those words would have terrified her in the world before it fell, but now it was a declaration of the highest love. She nodded and pressed her lips to his. It was almost as if no time had ever passed as they fell back into a routine with one another.
She pulled away breathlessly and met Rick’s expectant gaze. She let out a breath, “I know.”
Rick nodded and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Hope cooed and stretched her arms out with a yawn. A knock sounded out and Rick moved the the door, his youngest cradled securely in his arms. He opened the door and then Carl stepped in with Judith on his hip. Y/N burst into tears at the sight of her daughter. Judith reached out her arms as she saw her, “Momma.”
Carl came over and sat next to his mom and Y/N was quick to take her into her arms. She pressed a kiss to Judith’s head, “Oh, babygirl I missed you so much.”
Judith clutched onto her shirt and snuggled into her mom. Y/N rubbed Judith’s back with one hand and reached over and pulled Carl into a tight hug. Carl sighed and leaned into his mom’s embrace. She pressed a kiss to the side of Carl’s head, “Thank you for keeping him alive.”
She and Carl shared a look of understanding as they pulled away. Rick came over, looking like a true dad with Hope in one arm and his other hand tucked in his jean pocket. Y/N wiped her tears and sat Judith on her lap as Rick came and sat next to her. She looked around at her family and smiled, “I don’t believe in god, but thank whoever the hell is in charge up there that brought y’all back to me.”
Rick smiled and kissed the side of her head, “Damn right.”
Then a knock came from the door and Maggie popped her head in. Maggie rushed over to Y/N as the rest of the group followed in. Y/N swore she’d cried all of her tears, but each hug she gave to the members of the group brought on a new onslaught.
After each member of the group had been properly introduced to their daughter Rick stood off in the corner. He looked around the room, Hope settled safely in the crook of his arm. This was the happiest he’d seen the group in years.
Carl had yet to move from Y/N’ side, as Judith happily sat on his lap playing with her mom’s hand. Rick was certain he had never seen Y/N look so beautiful. She was beaming as she talked to Glenn and Maggie, despite the fact that she’d given birth hours earlier.
“She’s just like Lil Ass Kicker.”
Rick chuckled as Daryl came to his side. He looked down at his daughter lovingly and sighed, “This is what we fight for. Everythin we do is for everyone in this room.”
Daryl made a noise in agreement, “We keep going for shit like this.”
Rick met his wife’s eyes and she was quick to shoot him a wink, before she turned and pulled Carl closer to her into a hug. He sighed, his heart feeling full for the first time in months. Herschel had told him years ago that every day was a choice.
He would to choose to keep his family in the room safe everyday for the rest of his life. No matter what it cost.
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IT’S YOU, HAPPY ALL THE TIME ─── jonathan breech ✧☾𖦹
ೃ⁀➷ “I ask Jessica what drowning feels like and she says not everything feels like something else." — ‘Jessica gives me a chill pill’, Angie Sijun Lou.
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pairing. jonathan breech x reader
summary. you’ve bared your heart to your bestfriend, jonathan, more times than you can count, whilst knowing practically nothing at all about him. what is friendship if it is not equal… what is love if it is not returned? can your relationship survive such one-sidedness?
warnings. swearing, TW mention & description of suicide/attempts & depression, very introspective/kind of a character study???, alcohol & drug use, pining, ANGST!!!!, crying, fluff, smut with feelings, p in v, unprotected sex, oral sex (f), SMUT UNDER THE CUT! 
word count. 10k (WTF??!?!!??)
a/n. the title is from “she won’t go away” by faye webster:) btw this is… rly angsty (and SO long omg im still in shock) so beware🫡 ALSO IM SO SORRY FOR NOT POSTING IN WHILE!! SCHOOL IS KICKING MY BUTT & THIS FIC WAS AN ABSOLUTE MONSTER TO WRITE LMAO
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i. 
There are very few words in your vocabulary you can use to accurately describe Jonathan Breech. 
The boy is an enigma, a matryoshka doll that never ends: he is witty and lighthearted and sarcastic, but you’ll always catch that edge, the air of malaise he carries around himself, the unspoken elephant in the room that screams WHO ARE YOU REALLY?
He had always been more of a figure, a landscape; something to witness, observe-- experience without letting it do the same to you. You don’t know if that’s something you want, either: there’s an imbalance in his hilarity, and he always takes things a step too far. Jonathan lights matches and lets them burn all the way down to his fingertips; he shaves and lets the blade leave stinging little nicks, rivulets of blood running down his neck; he chainsmokes cigarettes in his room and only opens the window when he feels his heart hammering in his chest, desperate for air. 
You meet him — or, first experience him in a similar fashion: he had been in the university library, standing on top of a creaky, old bookshelf, shouting something you couldn’t understand over the music blasting through your headphones. You could certainly see him though, gesturing animatedly, dressed eccentrically in his signature winter trapper hat and a velvet blazer. That thin, effeminate figure of his was making winding, marionette-ish steps along the wood, an action that had everyone readying themselves to catch his inevitable fall. 
Then, seemingly out of nowhere and catching you completely off guard, you caught his eye. He began stepping from one shaky shelf to the next, a complete miracle none of them toppled over, before stopping on one close enough for you to read his lips. 
“Hi,” he mouthed, shifting uneasily on his left foot before regaining a steady balance, “you’re in my class, right?”
You nodded, hesitantly— yes, truthfully, you’d seen him in your Introduction to Literary Studies course a couple of weeks ago, sporting the same outfit as he did now, but you thought nothing of him. He’d been generally well-behaved then, asking slightly odd but in-tune questions that more or less answered all your inquiries, so you didn’t think the guy would have a penchant for, well… book-shelf hopping. 
He grinned, about to say something else, before something — or someone, made him flinch. A professor, probably, considering the unintelligibly muffled, booming voice behind you. However, Jonathan made quick work of the situation, sneakily climbing down and escaping out the door. 
The next time you see him, he’s sidled up beside you in your shared class. “Mind if I sit here?” a familiar voice had asked, to which you murmured a non-committal knock y’self out, before realizing with wide eyes.  His presence had caught you off-guard, as he so often did, and you sensed a pattern blooming. 
Jonathan certainly made for an odd desk-partner; his personality warped the environment around you, and it was suddenly so much easier to tear your eyes away from the lecture and land on Jonathan’s own. It’s something you never thought you’d ever do, because you adore the material being taught. 
At the end of class, he asks you out for a drink: he’s just found the best Irish stout in the entire city, and what better way to make it known than to take anyone and everyone he knows there?
Rejection is written on your face clear as day— you have class tomorrow, an essay that needs to be finished, and honestly, pubs just aren’t really your scene. 
But in the end… you still bite. You can’t help it: he’s disarming and warm and looks like he should smell like a bonfire. Somehow, that just does it for your brain; it’s here you learn of the charm that is Jonathan Breech. 
That night goes everything and nothing like you expected: you expected not to be able to predict his actions, and that’s exactly what happens. When you meet Jonathan at the aforementioned pub, it’s not actually the one he’s meaning to take you to— it’s just the closest public place to the on-campus dorm, which is where he says he’s rooming. 
“‘ve got a neighbor m’pretty sure is trying to sleep with me,” he says absently, ushering you onto the back of his bike, which had been leaning against a NO PARKING sign. “He’s always toget’er wit’ our dorm advisor, so I should l reject him before I get kicked out, if y’get what I mean.”
Now, you honestly should’ve expected this from a guy who jumped from six-foot book shelves, but Jonathan’s biking is all swift turns and jilted stops, mere milliseconds from repeatedly running red lights. You want to ask if he just learned how to ride the thing yesterday, but can’t, not with how utterly reckless and shameless he is about it, his terrible steering making you instinctively wrap your arms around his chest. 
You clutch him tightly, making him hum in approval, and you feel your ears burn flusteredly. You would’ve pulled away, but then he cut from the right lane to the left in one swift move, barely missing several cars, and you practically shrieked instead. “Oh my god!”
“Sorry,” he apologizes quickly. You can’t see his face, having shut your eyes in fear, but after hearing the blatant cheekiness in his tone, you can imagine clear as day how gleefully it contorts. You want to slap him somewhere, anywhere, but that’d defeat the point of being mad at his recklessness, so you squeeze him tighter instead, and he chokes on his breath. “Jesus-- m’sorry, really!”
When the two of you make it to the pub — alive and uninjured! — annoyingly all the way across town, your first few steps off his bike are stuttered, dizzy: “We are-- not going by bike next time,” you gasp, leaning against a random brick wall. 
“Next time, eh?” He grins, and this time you really do slap him— just on the arm, bless your self-control and niceties not to beat this oddly comfortable-to-be-around near-stranger to death. 
The pub, with its forgettable name and dingy stools, has a minimal, lackluster crowd. A kitschy neon sign flickers and dies as you walk in, making you raise a brow, but Jonathan merely drags you by the arm to a cozy corner table, then disappearing deeper within the venue before returning moments later with two pints of black beer in tow.
“Go on, then,” he gestures, setting the tall glass on the table, sitting down in the chair in front of you and taking a hearty sip of his own drink.
You let out a little hesitant sigh at his words, before relenting and taking in a long gulp of the liquid. “…Huh,” you remark, impressed. Jonathan smiled knowingly behind his glass, letting out a smug little ah, you see? 
“Worth the long ride?” he inquired innocently, as if that was the only thing wrong with the night.
“Worth the ride, but not worth almost dying for,” you rolled your eyes goodheartedly, knocking back the rest of the bitter drink and making him whistle. 
The rest of the night goes like this: Jonathan orders two more rounds of the quality Irish stout before the two’ve you are stumbling out of the pub, exploring all the nightlife there is to offer, like the crowd surrounding an out-door live comedy group performing down the street that has you and Jonathan giggling for hours after, or the underground speakeasy you accidentally find yourselves shoved into, a nasally guitarist singing on a smoky stage, several more drinks finding themselves in your system despite how nauseous you already feel.
“You-- d’you fancy him?” Jonathan slurs behind you, steadying himself by pressing his hands to your waist.
“F-fancy who?” you blink blearily, leaning into his warm touch.
“Who else m’I talkin’ about, girl? The singer!”
You shake your head no numbly, practically collapsing into his arms now, your head lulling on his chest. You’re so close you can smell the distinct scent of his skin, that unique musk everyone has, and it’s strangely familiar, like those smells that evoke old, nostalgic memories. It’s like how sunscreen summons the smell of the sun after a childhood beach day, or how vanilla extract takes you back to the smell of your mother’s baked goods on a specific winter evening.
“Reckoned you wouldn’t,” he assumes, hands coming away from your waist to wrap his arms around your shoulders, swaying to the music slightly in the crowded club, “looks like a -- right bleedin’ dope… wit’ that mop of hair.”
You giggle, alcohol riddled beyond belief, unable to formulate a response with the conflicting blurry thoughts in your head: it’s telling you Jonathan Breech isn’t the crowd you want, that you need to go home and work, that you let loose too easily— but it also tells you that you can see yourself becoming friends with him very, very quickly. 
It’s there, in that club, Jonathan Breech moves into your life and fills a gaping hole you didn’t know existed, like a hole in your stockings you only notice when you get home. You have friends, certainly, more than you can count on both hands, but they never get as close as Jonathan does. After that night, an unknown force pulls the two of you together, making you run into him everywhere, and a tight friendship blooms like a lilypad in a raging storm; beauty within the chaos. In the multitude of close friendships you’ve harbored, he is the first to see so many sides of you. The last thing that did was your mother; it had only ever been your mother. 
He is an endearing, amazing friend, both the intent listener and the charismatic speaker all at once; he knows his friends like the back of his hand, can recount their life like he can count the number of moles on his face-- but you, and everyone else, know absolutely nothing about him. 
At least, close to nothing-- you know he likes ice cream and hanging out and going to the pub; you know he likes biking and doing drugs and women; you know he hates the sea and his brother and his father, but you don’t know him. All you’ve ever seen him do is smile or laugh or shout in mock anger; there is a carefully glued mask on his face he takes meticulous caution in preserving-- he is terrified to let go, despite the blasé persona he lets on.
Or maybe the mysterious matter of your bestfriend is tripping you up for no reason; maybe you’re psychoanalyzing something that doesn’t need to be psychoanalyzed, reading between lines that don’t exist. But if you were asked to answer honestly, there’s just something about Jonathan you don’t get. There is a split seam in the tapestry of his life, missing pieces in the story he pretends to tell with utmost accuracy. There are things that he never talks about, that he recoils when asked like you’ve poked a tender wound. 
“So, what were you doing before… all this?” You ask him once, laying on his messy bed in his dorm-room and scanning the water-damage constellations dotted along his popcorn ceiling. By all this you mean going to university, being the resident party boy, aimlessly pursuing a degree you’re 99% sure he picked blindfolded (culinary science) and standing here, with you, snorting a line of something on his creaky wooden desk. 
Jonathan freezes, still hunched over. “What d’you-- what d’you mean?” he says, tone breezy but, uncharacteristically tense… jilted and preoccupied. You could’ve brushed it off as him being seriously focussed on his drugs, but the way he shifts, how his shoulders curl in like he wants to disappear, tells you otherwise. 
“I mean, before going to school here… y’know, what were you like as a dumb teenager?”
You two’re twenty, barely not-teenagers, but it still makes a world of a difference: you’re living away from home, doing what you want, experiencing (a juvenile, naive version of) freedom and adulthood.
“I dunno… kind of a tool, that's f’sure,” he chuckled, rubbing his nose roughly. He’s being funny on purpose, a jester’s distraction: he doesn’t want you to realize his answers’ not really one at all. 
You shifted on his bed, now leaning against his headboard. His answer strikes you as odd and uncharacteristic despite his attempts to evade suspicion: usually, Jonathan pounces at the chance to yap on and on. “What, the great Jonathan Breech doesn’t have any wild stories to tell? No bones broken, girls dumped, houses trashed?” 
He snorted at that, like some inside joke you weren’t privy to was brought up in your words, and he descended back down on a carefully partitioned line of white. “I broke my baby finger once,” he relented vaguely when he finished, dusting off the table and licking the remains off his hand. “I cried and I cried and I cried.”
“Did it hurt that much?” you grinned, mind trailing off to imagine a baby-faced Jonathan Breech, a juvenile highschool boy, doing something silly to break that finger. Maybe he accidentally flung off his bike, broke it because of a dare, or maybe it happened just by slipping and falling. 
“It - uh… didn’t hurt enough,” Jonathan smiled, tight-lipped and paltry. All at once the air in the room had changed, like someone attached a vacuum to the window and sucked everything out. 
Your grin fell, and you watched him carefully: perhaps, had you not been as close to him as you were, he’d have let something show. A twitch in the smile, a break in the facade. But you were, and his face stayed the same, and your thoughts ran circles around themselves. This was… something else, something belonging to the part of his life he didn’t talk about. 
The atmosphere had grown tense, taut, a rubber band twisted ‘round and round, threatening to burst, so you leave the matter of his injury alone; of his life alone. You go back to staring at his ceiling, he goes back to his drugs; Jonathan collapses within himself, and you don’t notice how badly he suffocates… how suffering in silence is also accompanied by the overwhelming desire to be found.
ii.
Sometimes, despite his self-imposed distance, Jonathan lets someone look inside his head. 
You are both the sometimes and the someone; you don’t know why it’s always you, but you chalk it up to the fact that beneath his unpredictable demeanor, the murky and unreadable feelings he holds for others, is this uncharacteristic constant: he holds a softness for you. It’s what lets you know there’s something haunted lurking beneath his happy-go-lucky surface. 
You don’t know where this softness comes from, either. But you know you see it, in lingering touches, tender duchenne smiles unlike the devilish tilt his lips usually hold, how he clasps his hand around yours after a night at the pub and walks you home because he knows you get paranoid. You see it in how he comes over to your apartment when you don’t answer anyone's calls during exam season, how he remembers what your mother’s name is and what your childhood pet was and what your favorite flowers are. How his lips brush past your cheek when he pulls away from hugs, his hands shuddering around your shoulders, like he’s afraid he’ll crush you.
You only wish you could do the same. You want to sit by his side and mend his heart, lend an ear to his most mundane fears, you want to take his hand into your own and kiss it softly, return all that he has done for you, take the same as you have given to him: what is friendship if it is not equal, what is love if it is not returned? It is something broken, unable; split halves of one heart, an imbalance in the scale, Bonnie without her Clyde, a fish out of water. 
Jonathan pours his heart into your own, filling holes you know you don’t have, and you think he may be overcompensating for something else, seeing things in you that really belong to him. It is maddening, and you just want to beg and plead he lets you in. 
But you settle for the gentle pokes, the prodding, and try to decipher the vague answers he gives you. Most days, you can’t really make sense of it. 
“Sorry,” you apologize, about to leave the outing you planned with Jonathan — studying, or, trying to study, at an intimate coffeebar the two of you frequented — “my dad’s gotten drunk with his lads and my mum needs help dragging him home.”
 “Hey, hey, don’t worry. I get it: my dad used to do that all the time,” he waves your words off casually, but you don’t miss how jilted he says used to and the pain in his tone at all the time.
“Oh, surely she was fit to go to the madhouse?” you laughed once, responding to Jonathan’s complaints about an eccentric classmate in his agricultural studies. He laughs back, he always does, but this one is hollow, forced; barely stopping a grimace from coloring his tone. 
You notice these things like it’s a shadow following someone in the sun. He is lying, hiding; about something you don’t know but it is happening. It is happening, and you are so very curious: you pick up on the littlest tendrils of him, fed wholly on any information you can squeeze out. He is a mystery you want to delve within completely; answer that question of WHO ARE YOU REALLY? and leave no room for error. 
You’d give yourself to him the very same if he merely asked; you’d whisper childhood fears and tell the origin stories of faded scars on your knees and why you check under your bed before sleeping. You’d detail your entire life from sunset birth to starry night end if he even made a passing comment about knowing; you would trust your love, your heart, your entire life in his beautiful, shaky hands. This is the relationship you have built around yourselves, and it is beginning to feel terribly one-sided. 
Alas, your curiosity overwhelms him, and you take it too far, just once. Only once. 
“Where’d this come from?” you murmur, brushing your fingers over a scar above his eyebrow. It’s something you see only now, his hair mussed and wild from the various blankets and pillows on your dinky couch. 
He’s crashing at your apartment tonight, an invited event, because you often miss him like you miss home; the boy is sneaky— he slinks away like a street cat and only comes back for food. It’s only fair he lets you wrangle him back like this, making him stay by your side at least once a week.  
Your words make him freeze, like he often does; it reminds you of hikers, who freeze when they see mountain lions— he thinks if he stops and stares and pretends to disappear you’ll look the other way, drop the question, forget him completely.
But you don’t. You don’t know what’s affecting him -- not that he wants you to -- so you just stare back into his cornflower blue eyes. You stop and stare and see right through him; you hold the question like a knife to his neck, and commit him to memory. 
“The scar?” Jonathan pales, shuddering despite it having long since been healed over. The aftershocks of an earthquake. 
You simply nod, fingers pulling away. You’re still closer than ever though, the two of you being the only things in your cramped concrete apartment, the chosen movie on your telly still running and long forgotten. 
Your attention remains on him, brandished into something dangerous, like you’ll carve the answer out of him if you have to— but the moment passes. He doesn’t say anything and you accept that as the answer. Gone is your razor-sharp focus, and there is nothing more to the matter. 
But Jonathan doesn’t register this, no, he’s thinking, gears in his head turning and creaking. His tongue grazes against the backs of his teeth, jaw chattering like it was as cold as it was when… as cold as it was back then, and he doesn’t want to tell anyone— but it’s you. You’re not just anyone. 
You’re the one he holds a certain softness for. The one he equally bares his heart to and holds the most secrets from. The one he’s most terrified to know. The only one he wants to know. 
So, he decides to tell a partial truth— something digestible. People adore that which can easily slide down the gullet: news headlines don’t detail the goriness of a murder, they give the “insider” scoop of the scared neighbor. To be able to digest information is what makes the world go round, and he does not think you could digest the full truth-- he does not think he wants you to. 
He feels ill at the thought of anything between you changing— oh, how ruined he’d feel if you began treating him like fucking glass.
This abhorrent social pressure is what makes Jonathan grit this sentence through his teeth: “I got into a car accident,” he gulps dry, “when I was nineteen. Was drunk… went fer a spin. I skidded off a -- um, an empty highway. The tall sorts; high up, y’know. Fell.”
His voice makes you look back up at him, and your eyes are beautiful and tense— it breaks his heart. He knows you’re probably thinking it was in-character, how expected that is of Jonathan Breech, how you’ll easily take this partial truth, how you’ll never know the full one until it comes in a letter under your door and he’s long gone. 
“Tell me,” you ask him, lips falling into a near-frown instead of laughing or grinning wider. It’s hushed, whispered like a secret, “What did it feel like? Falling, I mean.”
Jonathan licks his lips, bores his shaking gaze into your own, and tells you not everything feels like something else. That the word connotes all you need to know. Falling meant he was falling; his arms raised and the air took him and that was it. 
It makes your brows twist and your lips press into a thin line: his nonchalance is worrying, no more his signature characteristic— there is something wrong about this apathy toward injury, toward the potential death. 
“Is that how you broke your finger?” You murmur, and it startles him. How you pieced the two things together, how you weaved a web from what little you knew about him; how futile his attempts to hide could be.
“What?” he responds, hoarse. There is a lurking shadow in his bones telling him he’ll taint you, telling him to be ashamed, telling him how badly you will never be his. It is such a damning reality, that no matter how much he may yearn for you, he is too incomplete to meet your needs; he is too hurt not to hurt you too. 
“The car accident. Is that how you broke your pinkie?” you repeat, and you gripped his hand resting at your side, bringing it up to present the finger to him like he forgot where his pinkie was. 
Jonathan’s gaze darts from you to the finger, and he feels his insides quiver; so badly does he want to spill his entire soul to you. But that internal reminder -- hurt people hurt people hurt people -- makes him settle for nodding, parted lips locking closed. 
Nothing special happens that night, no shocking revelation or bombarded confession; Jonathan nods, keeps his lips sealed, and gets up from the couch, figure dreary and fatigued. He murmurs an incomplete excuse, something half-baked and blatantly unconvincing that he has to leave, and you let him go. You think you’re imagining the shudder in his shoulders, the shake in his voice as he says goodbye, and you let him go. 
It’s there, like that club so long ago, you discover another thing about Jonathan Breech: push too far and he shuts down, closes shop and puts up his guard forever. It’s the mere fact of how attentive you are to his words; you remember how he broke his finger, and he realizes he cannot hide from you any longer. 
You’re reaching a point in your friendship -- your relationship, no matter platonic or romantic for all lines have been crossed; nobody is so raw to one another with love not involved -- where you’ll bare your hearts on your sleeves, share your every thought and dream and fear. But Jonathan won’t be able to reciprocate, and the very thought of rejecting you, betraying you, makes his stomach twist in knots. That crestfallen face of yours would haunt him for all time, your every melancholy feature burning into his memory like the scars left by cigarettes on skin.
So he leaves, hurt people hurt people hurt people echoes in his ears all the way home; he turns into an alleyway shortcut and prays death swoops down and takes him right there. He leaves his consciousness curled lovingly in your arms; his shell walks home and prays you’re none the wiser. But you’ve already reached that point in your relationship; you already know. 
When people die, or friendships do, sometimes they end with just a goodbye, a mild, casual goodbye because you think there’ll be dozens, hundreds more-- but there won’t be. Suddenly, alone in that cramped apartment, the buzzing from the tv filling your ears, your couch still warm from someone long gone, you know.
You know you startled him, that he’s left your apartment and he’ll never come back. Your heart cools, and she whispers that you took it too far, that you crossed a line you were never made aware of, that when you see him in class tomorrow he might not sit next to you, he might not talk to you, that you might lose him forever because he is too stubborn to open up and you are too stubborn to let him go. 
Well, you were too stubborn to let him go. 
It’s three weeks before you speak to Jonathan again. Three long, dragging weeks, moments in time where he avoided your gaze, evaded your presence, slipped past you before you got too close. You certainly try, of course— you seek him out every chance you get, trying to get an I’m sorry, please talk to me out before he runs off, but it’s virtually impossible.
Once, after class, you’d caught him in the middle of a flurry of exiting students by the velvet blazer, your hands curled around the lapel. “Jonathan,” you panted, trying to drag him off to the side to escape the bustling activity around you, “please, we need to talk--“
But then Jonathan had faced you, eyes widened and spooked like he’d seen a ghost, a never-before-seen-by-you fear covering his gracefully cut features, before he tugged off the black blazer and escaped into the crowd. He had seen you, widened his eyes, left. Such a simple action tore your heart in two; it had confirmed your suspicions— you’d gone too far, he was never coming back, and you were all alone. There you stood, fingers wrapped around one of his favorite articles of clothing starkly without its beloved owner, completely alone. 
In three measly weeks, he has put up a biting winter of distance between you two. 
Your feelings are unable to comprehend themselves— they fight and sob and run circles around your mind, they make you doubt, crumble, devour yourself from the inside out; they make you ask yourself what you can do to salvage this, what can you do to fix this? What is there to make of him, of his behavior; what do you do with yourself and this guilt?
If you could imagine time was a construct, you were certain you could convince yourself this stretch of time was nothing… propel yourself into a present where Jonathan does not afflict your mind, take over your every thought— does not ruin you like so. If only you could do that, you could close your eyes and reopen them when you’ve let go. But you were always too stubborn to let him go, weren’t you?
It’s three weeks to the day before you speak to Jonathan again, and it happens through the crack of his dorm door, your arm wedged through it because you know he is not cruel; he will let you in without a doubt.  
“Please,” you plead to Jonathan, “just— I just want to talk. Please?”
He stares at you straight, expression cold and reserved, before he breaks and pulls away; bites his lip, lets you in his room, doesn’t look you in the eye. Looking around, you sense something in his dorm has changed; it had gained a bereft quality, like it was attuned to Jonathan’s state of mind and felt depressed beyond your comprehension. There was a cold air to the place, an utmost frigid demeanor to a room incredibly warm just weeks prior. In your absence, the dorm had been neglected, gutted, abandoned. 
“I’m sorry,” are the first words that tumble out of your mouth. “I- I know you don’t like… talking about -- about your life before here, and I’m sorry. But please, Jonathan, just talk to me. Tell me what I can do to make it up to you.”
He sits down on the edge of his weak bedframe, pulling his knees up and pressing his face into them. “You don’t need to-- don’t… don’t apologize. You don’t need t’make it better, either. All’s grand.” he promises, words muffled and shaky. It’s a weeping kind of tone; you could just as easily imagine him sobbing with that voice. 
Your brows knit. Your emotions are wavering, treading brutally between disbelief, despair and rancor. “Then -- then why?”
“Why what?”
“Why did you avoid me? Why did you - why did we spend these last three weeks playing cat and mouse, if you weren’t mad at me? Is this your sick idea of a joke?”
“No! I-- jesus christ,” Jonathan looked up from his hands before immediately pressing two fingers between his eyes, “I wasn’t … avoiding you.”
“I haven’t seen you in weeks!” you point out painfully, exasperated. “You know, you’ve been avoiding me for longer than this. You— you push me away any chance you get. You’re afraid. I don’t know of what, but you’re- so fucking secretive, and it’s tearing me apart.”
“I’m not - afraid of anything. I’m just a private person— you know this. Would you, if I ‘pushed you away?!’” 
At his denying deflection, something within you snaps: “Why won’t you - fucking let me in? I’ve — I’ve bared my soul to you; you know me from the inside out. I trust you with my life— why, why can’t you do the same?”
“I didn’t ask you to do that! And I didn’t — I didn’t mean t’get so close to you, okay?!” He bursts, and you flinch. His hands shakily come up to his face once more; he wipes roughly but it’s no use— you’ve already seen his delicate tears threatening to spill, and it burns more holes in your heart than you thought his suffering would.
“What are you talking about?” you pry, now without any cautious reservations about his demeanor.
“I didn’t mean to get so fucking attached, because - ‘cause I…” Jonathan’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, “fuck.”
“What?” you repeat, but it’s softer, concerned; how quickly his body language shifted from irritated to terrified has you scrambling to support him. “Talk to me,” you ask, taking nervous steps closer, like you were approaching a wounded animal.
He sucks in a sharp breath, and holds it, like he did cigarette smoke, before exhaling heavily. “Okay- okay. When I was - nineteen, I drove a car… I drove off a cliff and tried t’kill myself. I was-- admitted to a psychiatric hospital for a year, and when I got out I moved here f’school. I- I… promised m’self I wouldn’t let anyone get too close.”
The confession hangs in the air, a lonely little thing; it’s a bleeding piece of his own heart he’s plucked and placed in your palms. He shudders, and you want to nurture it like nothing else. This is a culmination of a year’s worth of evasion coming to a close; you’re seeing him completely, rawly, for the first time.
“But- but why? You don’t have to— Jonathan, you don’t need to do that just because you - you… y’know.”
“I’m- I know that,” he starts brashly, defensively. “It’s b’cause I am very, very aware of my - of m’own self destructiveness…” His words taper off into something of grief; the Sisyphean struggle of wanting to live, while that depressive boulder pushes him back, colors him completely. “I just… I didn’t want to - t’hurt anyone in case I -- in case next time I succeeded.”
“Next time?” you repeat, and your voice broke in a way you wish was less vulnerable, less blatantly miserable.
“This is why I didn’t want to—“ Jonathan sighs, deflates, “I’m not telling you this because I want you to - t’fucking save me, okay? I’m telling you this because you wanted to know, and I couldn’t hide from you anymore. Because you asked.”
“You didn’t need t’hide it in the first place!” you exclaimed, coming closer to him. “You’ve never had to hide a fucking ‘ting from me.”
“You wouldn’t have understood!” He said back, volume nearing a shout. “You’ll treat me differently now, you see, you’ll look at me fuckin’ different—“
It made your heart sink-- how sure his words were, how certain he was of your rejection. How little trust did he have in you? 
(You remember he wanted to sink, too-- lose himself in the baby blue sea; let it swallow him whole and never be seen again.)
“You - you really think I’ll treat y’differently because of this? You know my every crevice, my every thought-- I have never once doubted that you’ll accept me.”
“I-I… why should I - expect any of this to stay the same?”
Suddenly, you took his face into your hands. “Because I-- I fucking love you, okay? And it’s not just friendly, or romantic, even if it’s both— I’m… I love you like nothing I’ve ever loved before. I accept and adore your every skill and flaw and antic; you wormed your way into my heart and I want to worm my way into yours.”
“That doesn’t mean—“ Jonathan tried to interject, a noise all utter disbelief. You cut him off, though, continuing your sudden confession; you hadn’t been privy to these own romantic feelings of yours till moments prior, but everything being said just felt right. 
“Jonathan, I don’t care if you drove a car off a cliff or cyanide-poisoned our professor or blew something up, because I love you. You, with all your problems and great, big, beautiful life. All I want is for you to want that life; I want you to want me in it. I feel it in my bones that I’m meant to love you; you are meant to be my home, you are everything I am supposed to know. It won’t fix you or fix anything at all but I just need you to know-- I need you to know the why to my every action. It’s because I love you.”
He looked up at you, wide-eyed, head resting in your gentle hold. “I - don’t know what to say… are you - for real?”
“As real as can be,” you smiled back at him, tracing circles along his smooth skin; you could’ve drank in that attentive stare of his for hours upon hours. “I love you, and nothing and no-one, not even you, can change that.” An aching grip had clenched around your heart at his words, that blatant disbelief: are you for real? God, had you ever been-- had you ever fucking been. 
Jonathan’s mouth opened to speak, but instead, he let out an agonizing sort of cry; an exclamation of utter surprise at the loving acceptance. Then, he hesitantly leaned into your touch, as if he’d never hugged before, wrapping his arms around your waist to snatch you as close to him as possible. He held you tighter and tighter as the seconds went by, like this was all a mocking dream his yearning mind had made up; that if he closed his eyes now he’d wake up desolate, alone, without you for eternity. His worst nightmare. 
“…God, I’m so - fucking stupid,” he grumbled, sounding angry, but you could feel vulnerable, hot tears soaking into the fabric of your shirt. “To assume you, of all people, would act that way… you of all people.” He said that tenderly; you of all people certainly meant miles more things you weren’t explicitly aware of, but you still felt the sentiment. “I’m not -- poetic or anything like that… but I love you, too.”
You chuckled a beautiful, wet laugh. “You don’t hafta’ say anything sweet or special. You’re everything to me.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, before wrapping his fingers around your wrist and pulling you onto the mattress with him. He flipped you beneath him, and held himself up by the forearms laying on either side of your head. “Fuck, I love you. I love you.” Jonathan repeated the words several more times, strange and foreign but right at home being said to you. Like his mouth was made to only ever say I love you to you. 
Suddenly, you pressed your lips to his, shutting him up momentarily. You could still feel the vibrations of I love you rumbling in his throat as you kissed him. Your tongues danced along one another, an all consuming waltz; you wanted to know everything about him, down to the taste of his tongue, memorize how sweet his mouth felt on yours. Oh, how you longed for this moment; how could you ever think about love again, and yearn for it, without thinking of Jonathan?
You reckoned that’s what this had been the whole time; your love started as a little flame, something under the guise of friendship, but the two of you had fanned it, nurtured it-- all of a sudden the miniature warmth of platonic love burst into a raging, adoring fire. You’d fed this flame with tenderness, and it responded in kind; you could never again look at Jonathan without a certain intimate reverie. Perhaps that’d been why Jonathan found it so hard to cut off this relationship as he had dozens others: something primal and unconscious within him had begged him not to let you go— some higher being knew his home was only ever in your arms. 
Jonathan deepened the kiss hungrily, pressing his weight onto you and pushing you into the mattress. Your head was spinning from the lack of air, and one of your hands had to sneak beneath his hat and tug at his hair to get him to stop. “Hey,” you panted, looking worriedly into his eyes, “what’s up?”
“Sorry,” he apologized sheepishly, hanging his head lowly for a moment before meeting your gaze once more, batting his long lashes. “Jus’ missed you. Thas’ all.”
“Missed y’too,” you murmured, pulling him back down to kiss you again. Your hands left the crown of his head and trailed down his backside, tracing over the curves and bumps of his frumpy yellow v-neck sweater. 
That touch of yours seemed to spur him on even more, and his kisses began to travel; along your jaw, to your pulse, down the long ravine of your neck, tongue darting out to lick the hollow of your collarbone, making you squeal. He chuckled against your skin, a genuine amusement rather than the mocking one you two so frequently practiced, and it all went downhill from there. His hands skillfully tugged off your tank top, knee between your clenched thighs, more teasing kisses being planted along your now bare -- save for your bra -- chest.
You didn’t mean to come over, profess your love and suddenly jump into a steamy, yearning makeout session (which, you were pretty sure was venturing off into sex…) but you supposed that apologizing— arguing, whatever —meant your relationship went back on track to wherever it was heading… which may have been set to end with an ardor romance anyway. This love of yours would’ve bursted at the seams of friendship; it could not be confined by such mere things as labels. 
“Fuck,” you groaned, arching into his teasing kisses along the peaks of your breasts, his hands ghosting around your clothed chest but never touching. “Please, Jon.”
You could feel his cheeky grin on your skin, “Tell me what you want, love.”
“…Take this off,” you demanded gently, referring to Jonathan’s sweater.
“Your wish is my command.” he snickered, obliging and removing the yellow knit-- as well as his white undershirt and pajama bottoms. He was left in a pair of boxer-shorts and that silly, silly winter-trapper hat, his fingers sneaking up to your supple thighs and tickling the edges of your jean-shorts; a silent plea. 
“Eager,” you mumbled, noticing his over-compliance in completely stripping, smiling and guiding his hands to the waistband of your shorts to tug the tight article off. 
When he did so, you shivered, both at the feeling of being only in your underwear, as well as Jonathan’s sharp, attentive gaze. “You’re so beautiful,” he panted, eyes exploring your every sweet feature. 
He was enamored with your bare body, not in a sexual way despite the blatantly sexual situation, but rather in a worshiping, religiously devoted way. It may’ve been blasphemous to think so, but Jonathan’s sudden chaste kisses along the curve of waist only seemed to prove you right; his mouth on you was gentle, like he’d held you before, except now without any guilt or hesitation. It was a holy way of loving you; something all-consuming, becoming the epicenter of a life, becoming the purpose, motivation, and belief all at once. 
That familiar broiling in your gut occurred as he made his way closer to the pulsing, lace-covered place between your legs; your hands were gripping the sheets tightly in pure anticipation, his hot breath on your sensitive skin. “Don’t be such a tease,” you pouted, legs fumbling for purchase along his body, trying to pull him closer to you.
“We’ve got all the time in the world,” he hummed, but his fingers still curled into the band of your baby-blue panties and dragged them down in one desperate go, “but I do wanna taste you….”
Jonathan’s veiny hands pried your quivering thighs apart, murmuring an offhand already stole y’panties, don’t get all shy on me now when you whimpered flusteredly, before he descended on your dripping lips, licking a flat-tongued stripe up to your clit. 
You gasped at the sudden action, but it quickly morphed into a choked moan when he pressed himself further and parted your lips, nose to your pelvic bone; he made quick work of you, artfully curling his long tongue into your hole and slurping your slick. 
“So sweet,” he praised, the vibrations of his voice making your thighs clench around his head. He hummed in amusement at your reaction, lapping you up quicker; he kitten-licked and slobbered, feeding on your sticky cunt, tongue darting in every direction, feeling your walls and prying deeper into your hot hole, which ached for the cock straining against the mattress now. The bottom half of Jonathan’s face was now positively soaked, glistening with his own drool and your needy wetness, all of it mixing dirtily and sliding down the length of his neck. 
“Jon!” you mewled, hands tearing off his trapper hat and flinging it elsewhere before curling your hands into his mousy brown hair and pushing his face deeper into your pussy, desperate to come. You were riding his face now — or, attempting to, more accurately bucking up into him — adoring his unceasing ministrations. He was basically fucking you with his tongue, overstimulating your clit with teasing licks then pulling away, feeling along the ridges of your walls.
“Pick m’hat up later, love,” he tutted, pulling away slightly to see where you’d haphazardly thrown it, and your desperate whine neared a sob. He breathed in sharply, taking in how quickly he’d undone you: in a matter of minutes, your expression had grown wanton, eyes blown out, drooling, hair askew, bra riding up your tits and revealing your sweet, puffy nipples. 
Jonathan quickly forgot about the state of his beloved hat, and went back down on you, mouth devouring in full force once again. You rolled your hips forward, and when he pulled his tongue out of your wet hole to suckle softly on your fleshy nub, your eyes rolled back into your head and your legs shook around his face, toes curling tightly. A choked moan left you alongside the sudden climax, sounding a hundred percent pornographic and all for him. 
You panted, silent and unmoving for a moment, and Jonathan began moving to get up and let you take a breather before continuing, absolutely terrified to push you too far or do anything you didn’t want to do— he was the spontaneous one, and you were the responsible one, but that didn’t mean he ever wanted to force anything upon you. His simultaneous decisions were made mostly in part with your interests in mind; he made the decisions you were too nervous and over-thinking to choose quicker. 
However, you took a long breath, then trailed your hand over the painfully noticeable bulge within his soft boxers. “Wan’… make you feel good,” you murmured, flattening your hand against his erection. 
Jonathan inhaled sharply, pitifully affected by the minor touch but holding back with an incredible amount of self restraint. “I can wait,” he offered sweetly, one of his hands coming up to your flattened hand’s forearm to rub the skin. 
You shook your head foggily, cupping him through the fabric, slowly adding friction by sliding your hand up and down. 
“S-shit,” he bit his lip, “you want this now, baby?”
You nodded vehemently with a whimper, and to make more of a point, you reached behind and unclasped your bra, tossing it elsewhere on his dirty dorm floor, before beginning to slip off his underwear. 
The hand on your arm stopped you, though, in favor of doing it himself and pressing his weight further onto you, your chests flush with one another. You were only able to take in thin breaths, making your head spin, but it also amplified the  arousal blooming in your cunt when Jonathan slotted himself at your soaking entrance, collecting his saliva and your slick on his tip. 
Before he pushed in, however, his head dipped into the hollow of your neck, plush lips brushing past the shell of your ear. “Is this okay?” he murmured, pressing a wet kiss to your temple. 
“Please,” you whined, hands pushing flat on his back to bring him closer to you.
With that, Jonathan slowly buried his length within your cunt, making your breath hitch. “I love you,” he groaned, entering you inch by inch, relishing how your warmth swallowed him whole. “Fuck, I love you so much.”
Your hole was stuffed beyond belief, but Jonathan was gentle with you, caressing your waist with the rough pads of his fingers and massaging you, trying to ease his entrance into something painless. Obviously, with that length and thickness it couldn’t be painless at all, but his attempts helped your mind drift off elsewhere and take some of the attention off the stinging stretch. 
After a long moment of ragged breathing, Jonathan cooing words of praise into your neck as he kissed you without moving, you dug your fingers into the skin of his back: “More,” you choked out, the fullness in your cunt now feeling delicious rather than cringeworthy. 
He smirked against your skin, “Looks like you’re t’eager one now.”
“Oh, get on with it,” you rasped and he let out a low chuckle, sliding out of your hole before thrusting back in. That first movement already made your hips jerk up into him, back arching. It was like all the warmth in your body had collected in your cunt, leaving you freezing from the tips of your toes to the top of your head, but still with a needy, burning fire in your insides. 
Jonathan’s pace was affectionate and rhythmic: you could feel the tenderness in his each and every gentle roll of the hips. It made you feel like the sun, how attentive he was, but he was also so fucking slow. If anything, that had your walls clenching onto him harder than if he hammered into you— that slow build-up of friction was dizzying. You squirmed, cunt clenching and contracting around his smooth thrusts— you wanted to take him within you completely, cause more friction for you were going stir-crazy with this lazy speed. 
“F-fuck! Faster, please,” you cried out, unable to take his sensual movements any longer. Your legs were twitching with his patient movements, and you could’ve sworn you saw a cheeky grin on his lips. The bastard— even in sex was he teasing you, wanting to torture you until you gave in to the pleasure and begged him to ruin you.  
Sure, this was your first time together, and was going extremely pleasantly and sweetly, but you were actually pretty fond of the idea of letting him pound into you like there was no tomorrow… 
At the lewd thought, your walls pulsed around his cock, making him buck up unintentionally, hitting that sweet spot within you. He grunted at the feeling of your tightened cunt, while you cried out his name, pleasure running like a current through your body. Your face was on fire, reminiscent of a raging fever, and your insides were coiling— god, how did his cock just feel so perfect within you?
“Oh,” he grinned in a pant, “found y’spot, didn’t I?”
Jonathan didn’t give you a chance to speak before he pulled out so far his tip was the only thing in your hole, before slamming back in and making your eyes roll to the back of your head. Props to him-- he hit your g-spot with utmost accuracy, and you let out a long, stuttered mewl, scratching at his freckled back, legs twitching. Your wail was almost catatonic, loud and cock-drunk, dripping unabashed, filthy pleasure. 
“Makin’ such sweet noises f’me,” he praised huskily, hair sticking to the sweat on his forehead, “fuck, ‘ve gotta hear that again.”
He must’ve noticed your neediness earlier, when he was slow and languid, for the new speed he set was double- no, triple that: his hips were snapping against yours, balls smacking filthily against your lips, left hand pinning your hips down and letting him sink into you faster. Shocks of pleasure tore through you at the sudden increase in speed- he’d inured you so well to the torturously slow pace from earlier that this new frenzied one felt like getting hit by a bullet train. You were overstimulated and needing more of him all at once, practically vibrating with need under his touch. 
“I’ve- hnngh- wanted this…” you gasped between moans, “f-for so long…”
“Wanted m’cock?” Jonathan questioned in a hiss, feeling with his every inch how your walls absolutely soaked him. His tone was, obviously, sarcastic, but it still made you feel incredibly lewd. 
You shook your head numbly, “Wanted you… I love you, Jon!”
“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he purred, fucking you faster and making you writhe beneath him, “love you s’much.”
Jonathan targeted the spongy, swollen spot deep within your cunt, suddenly filled with a renewed vigor and motivation to make you come as quickly as possible, and he pounded into that one, specific spot, watching how you twitched and squirmed, heavy moans exiting you. He was relentless, hands reaching to hook under your knees and spread you wider. 
At the new angle, his cock penetrated you even deeper, fuller, which you thought wasn’t possible with how goddamn full you already felt, but when his thick cockhead brushed up against your cervix you thought you were going to burst. Then, one of his hands came up to your tits to knead the flesh, and you squeaked when he tweaked your soft nipples. He was pawing at your sweet tits, fondling you in a needy, boyish way, like yours were the first pair of boobs he’d ever felt. 
“M’close!” you gasped, mind going fuzzy with pure ecstacy. Your skin prickled with goosebumps, cold  sweat running down your spine, a terribly stark in contrast feeling to the warmth buzzing under your skin. 
“C-can’t last much longer either,” he choked, still pumping in and out of your sticky hole and savoring the feeling of your tight warmness on his long length. He looked absolutely exquisite above you, and you lost yourself in the ethereal picture. Maybe you were in love, or maybe he really was just an empyrean beauty; you took in the sight of his focussed iceberg blue eyes, the cute flush spreading along his pale cheeks and bare chest, how he bit his pink lips to muffle his needy grunts and moans. 
Then, you mewled and convulsed around him, your walls spasming and contracting as you came undone, reaching the precipice of your pleasure. That made him fall off the edge— you had tensed all over- all over, and Jonathan couldn’t help how his hips stuttered, knees buckled, cock twitched; he only gave one last, powerful thrust into you before spilling himself inside of you. He painted your soft walls white, and you felt that familiar heat spreading within you; you welcomed it completely, and wanted such warmth to be there forever. 
You milked him for every last drop, cunt like a vice grip, and Jonathan gave you another wet kiss, this time on your lips, and your hands wrapped around his neck, allowing you to kiss him back. Your brows knitted at the sour taste of yourself on his lips, but it just made everything feel so real— Jonathan and you had “made love”. It was a phrase you always wrinkled your nose at, feeling uncomfortable and juvenile at the intimacy it entailed, but now you understood it completely. 
“I love you,” you repeated for what felt like the hundredth time, unable to say anything else that conveyed what you felt for him. 
Honestly, you weren’t sure anything could accurately do so— you felt infinitely about him, your love touching all edges of your mind, heart and soul, filling you completely. You supposed you felt about Jonathan how the sun felt about the moon— without one, there could not be the other. 
“I love you-- too,” he responded, pausing in the middle at the aftershocks of your orgasm, which had caused you to tighten around his softening, sensitive cock for a second. 
You peered deep into his baby-blue eyes, watching the utter love that coloured them; it was like submerging yourself in a great blue ocean, except you didn’t want to come out, because you knew you wouldn’t drown in those eyes. No, you knew Jonathan would always be there to pull you out. 
Speaking of pulling out… Jonathan slipped himself out of you softly, careful not to agitate that first stretch any more than necessary, before collapsing back into your arms. The two of you tangled yourselves in a messy flurry of limbs on his cushy mattress, sweaty and breathy, something that should’ve been terribly uncomfortable but just wasn’t— you swore you could fall asleep anywhere, no matter your own state or the circumstance, as long as you were with him. 
Blearily, both your eyes began to droop, until you gave into the familiar presence of deep, dark sleep. It was a dreamless sleep for you, but you had an ever present comfort at his weight on yours, something you could feel even in unconsciousness. 
Hours later, in a brisk, shuddering early-morning that you felt all over due to Jonathan’s unruly habit of opening his window at the peak of the day’s hottest weather and forgetting to close it before cold nightfall fell, you awoke to Jonathan watching you carefully, so close you could feel his warm exhales of breath on your cheek. 
There was no goodmorning or anything like that, just pure, uninhibited being, reveling in the space you two occupied together. Like you two were the only things left in the world. 
When Jonathan noticed you woke up, he shifted, presumably to extract himself from your grip. You stopped him, though, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and bringing him closer to you.
“What did it feel like?” you asked instead, for the last time. You brushed your fingers over his scar, and, knowing exactly what you were asking, this time Jonathan doesn’t flinch away. This time, he leans into your touch: it doesn’t burn, not anymore, and he wants your tenderness to swallow him whole. 
You didn’t mean what it actually felt like, of course. You meant, what were you thinking? What have you done, and what will you do to yourself? You meant, I love you.
“It felt like,” falling; not everything feels like something else; I raised my arms and the air took me and that was it-- “it felt like… giving in. Letting my desperation find its purpose. It felt like I’d reached a point of peace… gained clarity after a long stretching, wounded moment came to an end. It felt like becoming something only meant to be talked about in past tense.”
You don’t say anything to that; you know he doesn’t want you to. There’s no need for you to hush or plead or make better, you just need to listen, and love him. He knows you accept him for everything he is, all his flaws and his strengths; he knows your love is all accepting- it veers on saintly. 
At your silence, he melts into your arms and you can finally relax; there is an admission in the action, a release, an acknowledgement -- is suffering in silence not also accompanied by the overwhelming desire to be found? -- you have found him, at last, and you will never, ever let go.
You take it too far, just once. Only once. And you let him go just once, only once; never again. 
696 notes · View notes
honeyedmiller · 7 months
Text
Ride, Cowgirl | Joel Miller
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pairing: joel miller x f!reader
warnings: smut, dom!reader, (semi) sub!Joel, shy! reader, reader is unsure of themselves for .2 seconds, Joel is sweet and encouraging, some fluff and aftercare, takes place in Jackson, implied unprotected piv, choking, riding, spitting, edging, pussy job, face sitting, no use of y/n. I’m sorry this is literally just pure filth lmaooo hope u enjoy :-) 18+. minors, do not interact.
word count: 2.4k
synopsis: you tell joel one of your fantasies that’d been on the back burner, but he encourages you to bring it to life.
not revised (per usual) so sorry if there’s any mistakes!
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It was a cozy fall morning in Jackson. You and Joel lazed in bed on your day off, enjoying each other’s company.
So far, it’d been nothing but stolen kisses and soft whispers of endearment, so, naturally, you had no fucking clue how the conversation got to where it was now.
“No, now y’have to tell me, sweetheart. Swear I won’t laugh.” Joel coaxed, brushing your hair out of your face. You groaned and shrunk into the pillows of the bed, trying to hide your face from your beloved boyfriend.
“No, Joel. It’s stupid anyway.” You argue, shaking your head.
“Oh, c’mon. It can’t be that bad, can it darlin’?”
“Yes. It’s unrealistic.”
“Just tell me.” He’s smiling down at you softly, patiently, waiting for you to tell him what you’ve always fantasized about doing in bed.
“Fine. I’ve always wondered,” You swallow thickly, taking a deep breath. “What it would like to be a dom. Just for a little.”
Joel raised an eyebrow at you, looking at you in shock. Out of all the things he was thinking you’d tell him, it definitely wasn’t that. You were generally a shy person, and quite frankly didn’t seem to have one dom bone in your body. But, you’ve surprised Joel time and time again, so he wouldn’t put it completely past you that you’d had a hankering to try something like this.
“Fuck, it’s stupid, I know.” You start, reprimanding yourself for saying anything in the first place.
“No, it’s not stupid darlin’. Jus’ didn’t expect something like this from you.” Joel cooed, kissing your forehead.
“I know I can be, I guess, more reserved… but I save my true self for you and Ellie.” You reasoned, giving him a shy, lopsided smile.
“I know you do, baby. Is this something you really want to try?” He’s serious now, eyes scanning your face.
Of course you were apprehensive, but if big, bad, mean Joel was going to let you live out this fantasy of yours, you couldn’t dare pass it up.
“Yes,” You squeak. “But I obviously wouldn’t go to the full extent. Just… wanting to be in charge only once.” You shrug. You didn’t mind Joel being the dom all the time. Quite frankly, it was hot, and despite his age (which you couldn’t give two fucks about, because the world fucking ended twenty years ago for fuck’s sake), he kept things real interesting in the bedroom.
If you were to ever say your sex life with Joel Miller was boring, you’d be lying straight through your fucking teeth.
That man was insatiable for his age, and his libido was incredible. He never ceases to amaze you, even ‘til this day.
“Okay,” Joel said softly. “Let’s do it.”
Your eyebrows shot up to the top of your forehead. Was he seriously going to go through with this? I’ve-killed-half-of-Salt-Lake-City Joel, ready to be a submissive to little ‘ol you?
“Are you serious?” The shock in your tone was transparent, sitting up in bed a little to look at him in all seriousness.
“Absolutely. If that’s one of your fantasies, I’ll help you live it. But,” He paused, giving you a stern look. It was half playful, half dead serious. “You tell no one that we’re doing this, okay? I have a reputation to uphold here.”
You snorted at his last comment, rolling your eyes. “Please, Miller, I don’t talk to anyone about our sex life anyways. I like to keep the dirty things we do to ourselves, thank you very much.” The smug smile that curled onto your lips made Joel’s twitch.
“Alright, so, how do you want to do this?” He asks, folding his arms behind his head.
“Wait, you mean we’re doing it now?”
“Why not? Ellie’s at Dina’s for the weekend, so we have allll day baby.” Joel smirked up at you, a glint of amusement in his eyes.
“Fuck, um, okay. I don’t know where to start.” Nerves took over you as you were painfully regretting this decision to go through with it.
“Start with telling me some simple ground rules. That usually gets you in the mood.” Joel unravels one arm from behind his head, reaching out to rub your arm gently.
“Right, okay,” You trembled nervously, but you took a deep breath to get your mind into a dominatrix headspace. “First things first,” You stare down at him, lust clouding your vision. “Only speak when spoken to. Don’t touch me unless I give you permission, and you’ll only address me as ma’am. Got it?” You look down at him, trying to hide your nervousness as best as possible.
Joel’s cock stirred at your words, acquiescing with your rules.
“Say it.” Your voice is stern as you get on top of him, straddling his thighs. It took everything in him not to reach up and grab you. You wore nothing but an oversized shirt of his, and the sight of you in it with a daring glint in your eyes drove him absolutely wild.
“Yes ma’am.” He agreed.
“Good. Now take off your boxers.” You instructed, lifting your weight off of him so he could slide them off of his body.
His cock was already leaking pre cum, the tip swollen and begging for attention. The sight nearly made your mouth water, but you had to keep your façade up. He looked up at you, waiting for your next set of instructions.
You moved up on him again so your bare, aching heat was hovering over his erection. You lowered yourself onto him, teasing his length with your slick folds. Your arousal made it easy for you to grind yourself onto him.
He clamped his eyes shut, hissing at the feeling of you teasing him so.
“Mm, feel so fucking good honey. This cock is all mine, you got that?” You peered down at him, and he nodded frantically.
“What did I say about speaking when spoken to?” You snap, even surprising yourself with how promiscuous your tone was coming off as.
“Y-yes ma’am. I’m sorry.”
“Good boy.” You smirk, and he groaned at that.
“Quiet.” You warn, moving your hips again to your leisure. Joel’s cock throbbed underneath your aching cunt, and not being able to touch you or speak was driving him fucking wild.
You continued your movements, and you could tell Joel was close when he started to pant really hard. He wasn’t going to cum that easy. Just as he was about to tip over the edge, you lifted your hips, causing him to throatily whine.
“Fuck, darlin–”
“What did I just say about you being quiet?” You snap, leaning forward to wrap one of your hands around his neck. You were careful not to crush his windpipe, but gave the sides of his thick throat some pressure with your small hands.
Never in his life did Joel think being choked would be hot. It really wasn’t something he was fond of, but right now, with you, it was the hottest thing ever. Seeing you go from shy and quiet to choking him and being in complete and utter control made him nearly lose his mind.
“Open your mouth.” You commanded, and he obeyed immediately. You spit into his mouth, moving your hips back down to where your throbbing cunt met his pleading cock. His eyebrows furrowed as he swallowed what you gave him, biting his lip in agony as you started to grind on him again. And, once more, you denied him access to cum.
You knew once Joel went back to being his dominant self, he’d punish you back ten fold, so you had to tread lightly. Desperate whimpers and moans elicited from his throat, and you let go of his neck to look down at him.
“You’re just not getting it, are you?” You scoff, and you move off of him again. This time, you shift your body so your dripping heat is hovering right above his mouth. “Maybe this’ll help shut you up.”
You waste no time in making yourself comfortable on his face, and he immediately reacts. His tongue is ravishing you like a starved man, sucking on your clit with care before licking up and down your slick folds. You start to rock your hips on his face, your clit catching on his nose just right.
Joel had the right mind to tease you this way and deny you of an orgasm too, but he knew you wouldn’t be so forgiving to him since he was the one who encouraged you to carry out this fantasy.
“Touch yourself, honey. But do not cum.” You told him, and he moaned into you. He began to tug at his silky flesh, and he thumbed at the slit on his swollen and neglected head. His tongue was buried deep into you, and the suckling and slurping sounds he made were nothing short of obscene and extremely erotic.
You felt Joel tense again, nearing his release once more. He just prayed to whatever was out there that you’d let him cum this time.
“Wanna cum, honey?” You coo, tangling your fingers in his hair. He nods below you eagerly, continuing to devour you. You were so close to the edge yourself, so you moaned in praise. “Beg for it.”
You lifted your hips to let him speak, and you’d never heard his voice in such disarray, ever.
“P-please ma’am. Please let me cum. Ple-ase.” He was nearly whimpering, voice strained and teetering on the edge of a full whine.
You move your hips back down, and you’re once again on his mouth. He wastes no time in trying to get you over the edge, and when you’re just about there, you give him permission.
“You can cum, my love.” And just like that, both of you unraveled at the same time. Loud moans were to be heard from your bedroom at the agonizing release of both of you.
You shuffled back down Joel’s body so you were straddling his thighs once more. You looked at his slick-covered face, smirking at the sight.
“You did so good, honey.” You kiss him, tasting your arousal on his lips.
“Thank you, ma’am.” He responds, hands twitching to touch you.
“You can touch me, Joel,” You murmur, kissing him again. His hands immediately go to your waist to hold you steady against him before exploring your body slowly. You moaned softly when his hands reached your ass, giving it a firm squeeze. “But I’m not done with you yet, cowboy.”
He looks up at you with a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He was honestly so proud in a sense that you gained so much confidence being in a dominatrix headspace.
“Permission to speak, ma’am?” He asks politely, smiling smugly up at you. You raise your eyebrow at him and nod, listening intently.
“Ride, cowgirl.”
You laughed, your dom façade already breaking. You lined Joel’s surprisingly hard cock up with your entrance, rubbing the tip against your folds a few times before you sunk down on him completely.
You moan at the sensation, him stretching you to fullness something you’ll always find so fucking hot.
“Feel so good, baby.” You encourage, starting to rut your hips back and forth. It wasn’t long before you found a steady rhythm and tossed Joel’s oversized shirt that engulfed your body to the side so he had a clear view of your beautiful body.
Forgetting the no touching rule, he reached out to massage both of your breasts. You almost moaned at the contact, but quickly took both of his wrists into your hands, holding them above his head. You were careful not to move fast, though, because you knew his shoulders were nearly shot.
“No touching.” You smirk as you bounce on him now, groaning when his cock hit that spongey spot in your cunt that made you see stars.
“Mm, fuck, baby, who’s cock is this?” Your words were sickly sweet, dripping like honey as you gazed down at Joel with a ferocious look in your eye.
“Fuck, yours, ma’am. It’s all yours.” He moaned, loving the way your sweet, delicate pussy took him so well every single fucking time. It’s like you were just made for him, and the sensation was truly like no other.
“That’s right. Mine. Don’t you forget it.” You lean down and kiss his neck with fervor, kitten licking the spot you know drives him crazy just once. You felt his cock twitch inside of you, and you knew he was close again. You clamped down on him, riding him with such determination. You wanted to see his face when he unraveled for you; because of you.
“You’re so fucking handsome, you know that?” You start praising him, returning the sweet words he always tosses your way when you two have sex. “So strong. So sweet and loving. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, honey.” You kiss him lovingly, every dom thought and bone in your body dissipating.
You knew it was only a matter of time before you’d say enough was enough. You liked when Joel was in charge. He fucked you so well, and the aftercare was always so tender and loving. He was so gentle, patient and kind with you. You truly loved him with your whole being.
You felt Joel’s hips stutter, breaking you from your thoughts. “It’s okay, my honey. Let go.” You finally said, and it only took him a few more thrusts of hitting that sweet spot inside you that had you coming undone as well.
You kissed him as you both unraveled, swallowing each other’s moans as your movements came to a halt. You slowly get off of him, pulling him into you as you cradled his head against your chest. You kissed his forehead a few times as you ran your fingers through his graying hair.
“I hope I didn’t push it too far.” You whisper, tracing the outline of his jaw with the tip of your index finger. He looked up at you, completely fucked out and more than satisfied.
“You did amazing, baby. That was hot.” He praised, and suddenly, your shyness returned to you full-force. A crimson blush colored your cheeks, and you hid your face into the top of his curls.
“Yeah, well, I prefer it if you’re just the dom from now on.” Your voice is diffident. Joel laughs, leaning up to kiss you lovingly.
“I think that can be arranged, baby.”
-
I think I’m gonna start doing a tag list. Lmk if you wanna be tagged for future works of mine! But until then @cool-iguana as promised I’d tag you <;3 ily
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that-sokovian-bastard · 10 months
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Your Choice - Jason Todd x (f)Reader
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Words: 4116 Pairing: Jason Todd x (f)Reader Warnings: SMUT. Minors DNI! 18+ only!!!! Mean dom Jason, swearing, rope bondage, edging, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms/forced orgasms, vibrator, teasing, blindfold, nipple play (just a little), fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving). Jason is a kinky mf. Summary: After plans for the night change, Jason has an idea to keep you awake. It ends much more evil than you first expected. Author's Note: Truly love that this is my first ever time writing smut and it’s kinky as fuck. I have all the shame in the world and none at the same time. Also they have a safe word it’s just not explicitly discussed in the fic. Anyway, if you know me irl, it’s illegal to read this fic, actually. Don’t look at me. Hope you enjoy.
Jason / Full Masterlist
Every few minutes, you wondered how you managed to end up in this situation. And just as that thought came into your mind, it was ripped away by being pulled onto the edge. Then, you'd finally calm down enough to get back to contemplating how you even agreed to this...and you were right back on the edge again.
You knew Jason had to go out for patrol. If he missed it again, one of his family members was going to show up at the apartment in worry. And you definitely didn't need anyone to show up while being with Jason. You two had plans for tonight, but he ended up getting called on patrol. You tried to convince him to tell the team no, but he said he couldn’t and that you guys would just have your fun when he returned. But you were worried you wouldn’t be able to stay up the entire time before he got back, and you wouldn’t want to wake up when he returned. So, as he got ready to leave, he told you he had an idea of how you could keep yourself awake while he was gone without any worry.
Whatever his idea was, you expected it to be fun and a little evil. He reminded you that at any point as he was setting up, you could tell him to stop, and he would drop everything, but he would be leaving for patrol eventually, and you’d be in the bedroom alone for a while. He was very clear. 
Jason told you to undress as he pulled out some rope, instructing you to lay on the bed before he got to work. Working fast to not be late to patrol, he tied your wrists to either side of the headboard and your ankles to the bottom corners of the bed. You laughed a little when he finished and looked down at you. “Uh, Jason?” You said, tugging at the ropes to test their strength. “I’m pretty sure me being stuck like this is only going to encourage me to fall asleep,” You reminded him, cocky about your position.
He smirked in response, and you knew you were in for it. “Who said I was done?” He turned and walked to the dresser against the wall where he grabbed the rope from earlier. Before you knew it, he turned back around, and you couldn’t see what he grabbed. However, you didn’t have to let your mind guess for long as he quickly put the small vibrator right below your clit. He secured it with thinner rope wrapped around your leg to make sure that none of your struggles could dislodge it, then stood back to admire you before he turned it on. 
“Pretty sure this will also make me pass out,” You tried again to be cocky.
“Why do you act like I don’t know what I’m doing?” He scoffed and turned on the vibrator to its lowest setting, causing you to gasp ever so slightly in response. “I know for a fact this won’t do anything except keep you alert and awake. But if you really think you won’t be able to focus on only it…,” Jason trailed off and grabbed one more thing from the dresser. When he came back to the side of the bed, he slipped the black blindfold over your eyes and, even though you couldn’t see it, cracked the most satisfied grin as he watched you.
He could tell you were already starting to hold back from letting your body react to the subtle vibrations. Jason didn’t say anything as he finished putting on his gear, slowly, enjoying the background noise full of your suppressed whimpers. He slipped on his jacket, pulled on his gloves, and placed the domino mask on his face. Jason set his helmet on the top of the dresser near the window he usually left out of but stood next to you once more before he left.
“I’m about to leave. This is your last chance to opt out,” He said to you, entirely serious.
It took you a second, but after a breath, you managed a quick nod. “I’m, yeah. I’m good.”
“If you say so,” He shrugged and headed back to the dresser, grabbing his helmet and slipping it on. “Oh, and darling?” Jason called as he was halfway out. You hummed in response, and he continued, “I’m leaving the window open, so I’d keep it down. See you later.” 
You couldn’t even fully blame Jason at this point. He told you what to expect. He warned you. He warned you that you’d be alone with no escape until he got home, which, while he was hoping it was a quick patrol, could’ve ended up taking much longer. But you thought you could take it. Now, a few hours later, you’re starting to wonder if you underestimated the situation.
Frankly, you had lost track of time with the amount of thoughts circling through your head. It could’ve only been an hour so far, but you’re sure that it’s been more. You didn’t know and kind of didn’t care, either, as there was nothing you could do about it. Earlier in the night, you thought that maybe Jason put in a failsafe that if you really needed out, you could pull hard enough, but nothing worked. Not that you really wanted to get out, though; you were just testing. All you could do was wait.
So, you continued to wait, hyper-aware of all the noises happening around you. You had to listen very carefully since the blindfold over your eyes blocked that sense. It was hard to differentiate what was happening inside your apartment and outside since the window was still open, and the cool breeze was hitting your bare skin just right.
The cool breeze also reminded you that you had to keep quiet. Even though you were on the third floor, if you were loud enough, someone could hear you and welcome themselves in through the open window. It would have been difficult since it isn't a direct shot to the fire escape from your window, but you also didn't need random people (or vigilantes) imagining what was going on inside your and Jason's bedroom.
Finally, you heard a creek come from the window. "Jay...Jason?" You breathily called out, hoping he was finally back. When there wasn't a response, you groaned about the wind tricking you again, which resulted in a low laugh from someone in the room. He really was trying to fuck with your mind, too, by sneaking in, it seemed.
"Don't...don't do that," You said, not entirely clear on what you didn't want him to do.
You couldn't see Jason leaning against the corner of the room, his helmet already off and arms crossed as he watched you writhe and pull at the rope around your wrists and ankles. He didn't respond to your pleas but waited for you to reach the edge again before he said anything, fully making himself known.
"Wow," He marveled at the sight in front of him. "Someone just left you tied up here, did they?" He teased. You didn't respond, you couldn't, as you rode the edge but never making it over. He waited again before continuing, this time shutting the window and making sure you heard it so you knew you could be louder. "I can't believe they would do that to you. Leaving you all by your lonesome, tired and needy," Jason said as he walked closer. He stood at the foot of the bed and watched your back arch every few seconds, trying to get anything. 
Jason was proud of himself. You hated to admit it, but he was right about this whole situation being enough to keep you awake while he was gone. 
"Come on, don't you have anything to say about the mean person who just left you here? What a crazy criminal, right?" He taunted.
Again, you didn't respond. You could barely keep track of what he was saying. Jason knew it and leaned forward to touch your thigh with his gloved hand, lightly rubbing the top of it to encourage a response.
"R-right," You breathed out, almost a gasp. "It was...it was very mean of them."
"Then you got lucky that I showed up, sweetheart," Jason said, still slowly rubbing your thigh.
You took a deep breath as you prepared to respond again. "My," You started, pausing for a second before continuing. "My hero."
Jason pulled his hand back instantly and laughed again. "Hero? Oh, no. I'm no hero," He said, walking around the side of the bed and leaning in close to your ear. "I'm much, much worse."
Heat fluttered to your chest as Jason’s words hit you, and the buzzing below intensified. You hadn’t even realized he hit the button to turn up the vibrator’s level, pulling you back to the edge of an orgasm as you arched your back off the bed again, but this time, you were stuck there. The sudden change in power pulled you right where he wanted you. It kept you where he wanted you.
You heard Jason laugh from the corner of the bed now. You knew you looked pathetic, not able to calm down and not able to find release, but you couldn’t control it anymore. Jason peeled off his gloves as he watched you struggle, pulling at your wrists as hard as possible. “You’ve made such a mess already,” He stated. “How long has your captor left you like this?”
He was pleased when you didn’t respond, knowing the power he held over you right now. With his bare hand, he touched your thigh again but moved to the inside instead of staying on top. “I asked you a question, sweetheart. How long has your captor left you like this?”
It took a moment for you to get the words out, but Jason was patient. “I don’t know,” You spit out, almost as one word.
“No idea? Well, that’s a shame,” He sighed. “If it had been a long time, I would make sure to get you that release you so desperately need. But if you don’t know, it very well can’t be that long,” He continued to let his fingers circle your inner thigh, but staying far enough away from what you wanted to continue to tease you. “I think we can have some more fun before all that.”
“No,” You managed to get out, but Jason ignored it, knowing that no didn’t mean for him to stop. He had both his hands trailing your inner thighs now, only adding to his fun and your sensitivity. You could feel the bed dip when he kneeled between your spread legs, but still not close enough to you. He finally stopped teasing your thighs, but since he was closer now, his hands went up your body to your waist, your ribs, and your breasts. He circled all over your bare skin, some areas warm with need, some still cool from the late-night breeze. Of course, Jason knew how long you were like this, and even though it was longer than he was originally planning, he was going to make you wait just a little longer for having such doubt in him earlier when he was setting you up. He leaned forward, and you could feel both his hands dig into the bed beside your chest, and he was nearly straddling you, making sure to stay far enough away that you couldn’t feel him unless he wanted you to.
Jason leaned down to plant kisses on your neck and trailed down the center of your body, stopping just under your belly button. When he pulled back from your stomach, he realized you were still arching your back off the bed, and he couldn’t have that. You felt the hand to the right of you leave the bed, then land gently on your chest as he pushed slightly, making your back flush with the bed again. He kept his hand there, locking you down and making the vibrations much stronger as you couldn’t move anything with him holding you. 
“Jay,” You breathed out, catching his attention.
“Hmm?” He half-heartedly replied. It took you a moment to figure out what you wanted to say, so he prompted you. “Come on, use your words.”
“Please,” You begged, but you couldn’t say more than just the one word. 
So Jason decided to play dumb. “Please, what?” He posed. “That could mean a million different things, sweetheart; I need you to clarify.” 
He still had his hand holding you down as he waited for your response. As he waited, he tapped his fingers to remind you that his hand was there, and it was not moving until you said something. “Please, I need…I’m so close,” You finally managed to breathe out, begging him for any extra attention to get you over the edge.
“Need?” Jason asked. “What do you need me to do?”
He waited again, not moving, not even tapping his fingers. But he pressed the button on the vibrator again, turning it up another level to encourage you to tell him exactly what you wanted. He knew you were having a hard time with words, and he was enjoying the sight as your mouth opened and closed as you tried to find them.
“Need,” You barely managed to say. “Touch, oh my god, Jason.” 
“Touch? Baby, I’m already touching you, remember?” He tapped his fingers again, his hand still on your chest, right below your breasts. As the vibrations got more intense, you reacted harder, trying to pull your legs together for some friction and arching your back off the bed for some movement. But your legs were still secure to the corners of the bed, and Jason pushed down just a little rougher when he realized you were fighting against his hand. 
“Oh,” He dragged out as you continued reacting, pretending like he just came to a realization. “You want me to touch you somewhere else? You should have said so.”
You grunted in response, confirming what he said. “If I let go, you have to keep your back on the bed, okay?” He asked you, and you nodded to tell him you understood. “If you don’t, I’ll have to stop.”
The threat of stopping worried you because you weren’t sure how much restraint you had now, and it would only get worse when he started touching you in other places. You were hoping he’d go straight down to your pussy to give you what you wanted right away, but he wasn’t being that nice. Instead, his hand moved up from its place below your chest and onto your right breast, fiddling with it slowly. He gently massaged you, pulling strangled moans, and you worked as hard as you could to stay still. He rolled your nipple between his calloused fingers, and you thought the onslaught was over when he released your sensitive nipple and landed his hand on the bed next to your right side.
But just as you took a second to breathe, his other hand came off the bed, and he repeated his movements on your left breast. He knew he was torturing you with his slow movements, making you wait even longer for release. Jason could see you struggling to keep still and hold yourself to the bed. 
When he finished with your breasts, he decided you finally had had enough, and he’d move lower. He kept moving slowly, using one finger to track down your body as he leaned back. He brushed right over your clit, touched the vibrator for a little extra pressure, then stopped right before your entrance. He circled a few times, very slowly, enjoying the sight before him. 
You gasped as he circled. “Jason, please,” You begged, and this time, he happily obliged. He loved hearing you beg, but you’ve already given him so much that he was ready to help you. Jason watched your face as he slowly inserted two fingers, taking his time but making you feel good. You could barely focus on his fingers because you were so focused on keeping your back on the bed, and he could tell you were struggling. 
Jason reached his other hand up and laid it on your stomach, pushing down to keep you where you were so you weren’t worrying as much. You still had to focus to not move the top half of your back, but he was trying to help. Unfortunately, by him holding your stomach, it meant that he only had one hand to touch you with, and it was already preoccupied inside you. 
Jason’s fingers slowly pumped in and out of you, and he knew exactly what he was doing. He knew just one right move would send you in to your wave of orgasm, and he was having fun seeing how long he could make you hold on. You tried your hardest to keep your moans quiet, but he heard every single one of them. “Faster,” You begged through a moan, and Jason’s fingers paused.
“Are you telling me what to do?” He asked. Jason knew he was fucking with you in more ways than one, going from asking you to tell him what you wanted, to telling you to stop asking; he loved to change the rules. You hummed in response to his question, sounding like a suppressed no so that he would keep moving. “That’s what I thought.”
He started again, even slower than before, and it was killing you. “Just so you know,” Jason said as he kept moving his fingers. “Once you start, I’m not planning on letting you stop any time soon. How does that sound?” He asked, but your mind was such a blur at this point you couldn’t respond with anything besides a moan or a whimper. “So, do you want to start now or keep waiting?”
You whined again, but that didn’t satisfy Jason. “I need you to tell me. Do you want me to make you orgasm now, or do you want to wait?” He asked again, still slowly pumping his fingers. You weren’t sure how he was sitting on the bed, but you could tell he was still on his knees and probably leaned forward because you were sure you could feel his breath on your pussy. “Answer me.”
The hardest part was that you weren’t sure what you wanted. An orgasm right now sounded great, but you knew that he would keep his promise and you’d be oversensitive in seconds with as fast as he could pull them from you. But it would also be hell to wait because he knows all your tells. “If you don’t answer right now, then I’m going to pick,” He warned, which was the secret third option you knew you didn’t want, because his picking always ended with utter torture.
“N-now,” You decided in a snap, immediately not sure if that was the wisest choice.
As soon as you said it, Jason’s fingers inside you began to pick up their pace and hit nearly all the right spots. And you were right; you knew he was right in front of you, because he leaned in and over the small vibrator to immediately start sucking on your clit. The sudden change in pace and addition of his mouth made you scream, pulling at each of your secured limbs, barely able to get any movement. His other hand still held your stomach, but the top of your back and head arched off the bed in reaction. Luckily, Jason didn’t let up as he finally guided you off the edge and into a full-blown orgasm. 
It continued to rush over you, heat spreading throughout your entire body as Jason continued to suck, lick, touch, kiss, and even laugh and talk into you. You couldn’t make out any of what he was saying through your loud noises; you just knew that the vibrations of his laughter and speech were mixing with the still-on vibrator, and you knew there would be no coming down for a while. You tried to buck your hips, but everything mixed together kept your hips in place just as tight as your limbs were. The vibrator, just like it had been for the last few hours, stayed exactly where Jason tied it, and he had no intention of taking it off.
“Jason…Jason,” You called out over and over, barely having any time to breathe before you orgasmed again. “Hang on,” You said.
“I told you what was going to happen,” He said after he lifted his head from between your legs, making sure you could hear him. “This was your choice. You chose this.”
He waited to hear your response for a moment. Though he may have stopped attacking your clit, his fingers were still inside you, moving around in all directions. “Just…” You said. “I need…a second.”
“If I gave you a second, then I’d be breaking my promise of not letting you stop,” Jason said and didn’t wait anymore, his mouth right back on you, making you scream his name out again through another orgasm. As you came down a few moments later, he pulled his face back. “I’ll give you another choice. How does that sound?” He asked.
“O-okay.”
“I can either return to what I was doing, or I can move the vibrator,” He said. You waited to see if there was any clarification, but there wasn’t, and he was waiting for your answer. You knew there was a chance that he didn’t clarify because he wanted you to choose and screw yourself over, but you knew there would be no refuge if his mouth returned to your clit. Your choice was harder to decide in your mind because Jason never stopped moving his fingers in and out, in and out…
“Do you want me to choose?” He asked, pulling you back to reality.
You shook your head and yelled out your answer. “The vibrator!” You decided. “Move the…move the vibrator.”
You couldn’t see his pleased smile, and you sighed loudly in relief when Jason’s fingers exited you. You hoped that by move, he meant to get rid of it entirely, but you feared for the worst. Especially with how mean he was being tonight. As you thought about it, either answer was going to end the same way: he was going to keep you orgasming over and over.
You finally had a chance to catch up with yourself as he loosened the rope that held the vibrator on you, and it detached from your pussy. For a few seconds, you were just laying there, legs shaking in their binds. Jason loved watching your chest heave, and your legs shake as you still tried to pull at your wrists, but he couldn’t admire you for too long. Your worst fear came true as he tightened the rope again, this time leaving the vibrator sitting directly on your clit. You gasped out immediately, only groaning more when Jason pressed the button a few times to turn it on to its highest setting.
“Remember, you chose this,” He reminded you as you made your way into another orgasm. You continued to try to move your legs and hands, but still with no escape, as he made sure the ropes would never give way. You noticed when the dip in the bed between your legs let up, meaning Jason got off the bed. You weren’t sure what he was doing, but a moment later, you felt his rough hand on your chin. 
He leaned in, slowly kissing you through your moans and groans. As he pulled back, you could feel the soft smile on his face. “You’re doing so good, baby,” He said under his breath, almost breaking his character.
His hand left your chin, and you were worried he was going to leave you alone again. “Jay?” You called out.
“I’m still here. Just watching the show for a few minutes, then we’ll continue,” He said, and your eyes widened behind the blindfold.
“Con…continue?” You asked. You were certain that this was the beginning of the end of all of this. There was more he had planned?
Jason smiled again, though you couldn’t see it. “Of course. You didn’t think we were done, did you?”
“I-” You stopped when you were pushed into another orgasm caused by a mix of the vibrator and Jason’s words.
“Baby, we’re just getting started,” He said, making sure you heard it over your loud moan, excited for the rest of the night.
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rayassecretlife · 1 year
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“What happens when you disobey me?”
Pairing: Adult!Neteyam Sully x Fem!Omaticaya!reader
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TO FULLY UNDERSTAND, READ PART 1, this part picks up right where part 1 leaves off.
Summary: It’s you and Neteyam’s 4 year anniversary but after he catches you talking to someone you shouldn’t have, he can’t help but teach you a lesson.
Warning(s): FILTH (MINORS DNI). Jesus Christ, just pure filth.
Not proof read… sorry for mistakes!!!
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The ride home was longer then you had expected and you couldn’t help but fall asleep against his Ikran, his arms tight around you the entire time till you landed. You thought you were going home, but you had to of been far from it because when you opened your eyes, a whole new area you had never seen before had came into view.
It was a secluded beach connected to the forest, many bright glowing flowers lighting the path he took you on. There was a hut not far from the beach, flowers and such scattered on the steps.
“Neteyam” you frown, realizing he had planned so much and you couldn’t help but smile, continuing to walk further toward the hut.
Your cheeks flush as you slowed down by the steps, taking in the many flowers on the floor and the small lights that led inside the hut. Your eyes watered, you felt terrible. How could you even be mad at him?
You continued to walk in, following the trail of flowers till you reached the end, a quiet sob breaking through your chest. “Syulang?” You turn to your mate, wrapping your arms around his neck before he could say anything about your tears.
“This is beautiful, Nete” He chuckles at your weary voice, wrapping his arms around you. “Thank you, Ma’Teyam”
He pulled away just a bit, still having your body in his arms as he leans down to kiss you, but you crashed yours into his before he even got close. Yes, you were a still angry about earlier, but you couldn’t deny your need for him.
You’d been waiting all day for him to stop with the teasing, and you hoped now that it was almost the end of your anniversary that he’d give you want you wanted.
“I need you, Teyam. I’ve been waiting all day” He chuckles against your lips, pulling you up to wrap your legs around his waist so he could carry you further inside.
But you must’ve forgotten that he was still burning with anger and jealousy, practically slamming you into the wall, catching your gasp in his mouth. He used this to push his tongue against your own, hands gripping your skin as you wrapped your arms around his neck.
He sat you on the hut’s table, pulling you to the very edge before he removed your chest piece, hand pushing your chest down so your back laid against the wood. “Nete…” You mewl as his hand gets lower down your leg, his lips planting small kisses down your bare chest.
Your hands fought to grip any part of his body as his hand entered your loincloth, thumb instantly finding your clit. You moan softly, hands finally gripping his shoulders as he rubs circles against your already beating bud, hips moving towards him for more friction.
You yelped at the sudden slap against your thigh, the burning sensation spreading throughout your body.“Keep doing that and I’ll leave you like this. Brat’s don’t get rewarded” Your breathing is much heavier now, biting your lip to stay quiet. His head dips down to your chest, his tongue swirling around your cold nipple. “So wet, baby. Need to taste you”
“Nete, please” you begged breathlessly, propping yourself up on your elbows as he pulled away from your chest, untying your loincloth. “I need you now”
“Oh, baby” he tsked, “You disobeyed me, Remember?” he kisses between your rib cage, bending your knees and spreading your legs further for him. “You know what happens when you disobey me”
“I didn’t! Nete, I swear-“
“You know he’s not supposed to be in your tent so why did you let him in” his finger tips ghost your entrance, teasing you more and more, causing you to whine. “Because if you actually gave a fuck, you would’ve kicked him out”
“I-I told kiri I’d take the last one, I didn’t know it was him! She was already gone, Neteyam” His head shook at your excuse, “please, I’m telling the truth”
“It’s one thing when you patch him up, but it’s another when you do it after I warned you to stay away from him” You cry at his words, accepting you weren’t getting out of this. Nothing made him more mad than when you were around Kaonu, or any guy really. “Now, what happens when you disobey me?”
You begged him, giving him a pleading look in hopes he’d go easy on you. He wouldn’t, only when you were trembling under him, is when he would let up.
“Fucking answer me!” His voice raises as he grabs your neck and you cry out, grabbing his arm out of reflex.
“I get punished” You finally admit, watching his eyes soften at your words, leaning down to your face and pressing a small kiss to your lips. You could tell he thought he was hurting you and that’s why he stopped all of a sudden, but the truth is, you fucking loved when he was like this. When he treated you like a slut who needed to be taught a lesson. He gave your jaw a few small kisses before moving to your ear, “I may be angry, but you tell me how you want it, pretty girl”
Your heart thumped at his words. He was such a softy when it came to his mate, even when he was angry with you. Your hand gets lost in his long hair, a shaky breath leaving your mouth. “I can take it, Teyam. I want to take it” He chuckles in your ear, pulling your leg to lay against his side.
“There’s my dirty girl” He takes your lobe between his teeth, biting down only a small bit but enough to make you bite your lip. It didn’t hurt, it just felt way too good. He pulls away, trailing kisses down from your neck all the way down your bare body and your hand stayed atop his head, watching his move all the way down to your dripping core.
You watch in awe as he stares down at your soaked cunt, his fingers ghosting over your entrance. You were so beautiful to him, the most beautiful girl in the world.
He gave you one last smirk before pushing two of his fingers inside of you, taking you by surprise. You gasped as he took your swollen clit in his mouth, your head falling back at the unbelievable sensation. He chuckled, vibrations flowing through your fragile body and you couldn’t help but moan at the feeling, trying your hardest not to push his head down.
“My sweet girl, you taste so fucking good” Your a mess above him, begging him for more as he eats you like your his last meal, curling his fingers inside you and torturing your clit with his tongue. He was so good at this, driving you insane every second he wasn’t touching you.
“Neteyam!” You cry out, starting to squirm from his grip. You couldn’t take it anymore, you looked so pathetic like this.
“Gonna come already, Baby? I thought you wanted Kaonu to do it?” He pulls his head from your core and you cry, spreading your legs more as you gripped his braids. “And to think, he really believes he could make you this wet? Not like this, not like me”
“Fuck, Nete. I’m gonna come” Your words were falling from your mouth at this point, begging him to draw you to your end. You waited all day for this, all day for him to stop teasing you and actually give in. In just a second, his mouth is back on you, except this time with way more hunger then before. You didn’t know, but his free hand palmed himself through his loincloth, his arousal becoming painfully hard at the sight of you. He wasn’t just teasing you all day, but holding himself back from the mess he could’ve made, fucking you in all those spots you had been in today.
You feel the familiar feeling grow in the pit of your stomach and your hands grip his hair tighter, walls tightening around his fingers. He didn’t stop at your moans, letting you hold your legs down so you wouldn’t clamp around his head.
“I should leave you like this after you talked to him. You wish I was him, don’t you? Making you come like this?” He coaches and you whine at his words, back arching off the table as you felt your release just a second away from bursting.
“Nete..!” You practically cry his name, hand flying to your mouth trying to silence your very loud moans. Your words didn’t slow his actions, only making him pick up his pace, pulling his head up as he watched you unravel. It was such a pretty sight—watching your body shake and how your release wet his lower stomach, dripping all the way down to his loincloth. “Fuck, I-I-“
“Maybe I need to start doing this more” He chuckled as you stare at his body, sitting up to pull him down to kiss your lips. You needed him badly, you needed him to fill you. “So greedy” he leans you back against the table, tongues dancing against one another’s as he pulled his fingers from your core, bringing them between your faces.
You batted your eyelashes at your mate, taking his drenched fingers into your mouth as he watched you closely, bottom lip stuck between his teeth. “That’s it, such a good girl” Oh gosh, how wet it made you to hear that.
You pull back with a pop, reaching down to his waist to unclip his loincloth. You hand brushed his arousal, biting your lip as you looked down between the two of you, his cock just an inch away from touching your stomach.
You hum, taking him in your small hand and stroking him, watching his eyes squeeze shut above you. You had your eyes on your mate, whispering small things against his ear. “Goddamnit, Y/N” he curses, grabbing your hand and slamming it against the table above your head, taking his cock in his free hand to brush against your core. “You can never be patient, can you?”
“Looks like your the one who can’t be patient, Pretty boy” You really should learn how to keep your mouth shut but how could you when he had you like this? Under his control like his own personal puppet.
“Yeah? We’ll see about that” without a warning, he’s already sliding into you at once, not giving you a second to adjust to his size. You gasp, hands gripping his at the sensation. It didn’t hurt, after all these years of being with him, your pussy was like a home for him, inviting him in Every. Single. Time.
He’s usually let you adjust but not this time, this time, he was taking his anger out on you—fucking you like it would be the last thing he ever did. “So big, so fucking big—oh my god” You whined, eyes starting to water as his tip kissed your cervix repeatedly. “Nete, It’s too much!”
“No” He dismissed your words, hand wrapping around your throat once again as he let go of your hands, standing up while continuing to rut into you. “You wanted it, you fucking take it”
Your jaw fell as he picked up his pace, whimpers and moans spilling out every other second. He leaned back down to you, forcing his cock to go deeper inside you and you practically yelled his name, nails digging into his skin so hard your sure you drew blood.
You were already coming undone without any warning, your core tightening around his cock as he chuckled, coaching you through your high. “So pathetic, Y/N. Legs shaking and all” He pulls both of your legs onto his shoulders, you arousal milking his cock of its pre.
He pushed down on your lower stomach, watching your face twist in pleasure and your loud moans begin to fly again, tears filling your eyes. “Feels so fucking good, Baby. Such a good girl letting me fill you up, taking my cock so well”
Your cunt squeezed him tight, hands gripping his shoulder to pull him closer to you. Neteyam loved watched you lose control, watching you cry for more. You could cry all you want, but the way you moaned his name told him everything he needed to know.
“I bet Kaonu wishes he was wearing this necklace right now” He chuckles at your shaking legs on his shoulders, leaning down to kiss your soft lips and capturing your moans in his mouth. “Might have to replace mine with this one, It’s far more beautiful”
“Keep talking, Teyam. I’m all yours, take what’s yours!” you begged, his dirty words doing wonders to your core. He was barely keeping his composure, the feeling of you squeezing his cock was far more then enough but he couldn’t let go—not until he was finished with you.
He groaned, pulling out of your soaking wet core. You protested but were quickly silenced once he pulled you to the floor, turning you away from him and pushing you onto all fours.
“Neteyam!” You cried his name as he slipped back into you, hitting a whole new spot then before. He pulled the root of your hair back, your head thrown back at the pleasure. You couldn’t take it, his balls slapping against your wet cunt with every thrust, giving your clit a tease of small sensation. “Please, please!”
He knew what you wanted, his hand pulling his queue from behind him to connect with yours. Both of your pupils shot bigger at the feeling, a whimper leaving his mouth as he leaned against you.
“Mmm, Nete… I-I-“ he grabs your hips, nails digging into your skin as he forces you backwards, pussy clenching around his cock every time. You cry his name louder, your mind growing foggy as your nails grip the wood floor, his cock bruising your insides.
He pulls you up by your hair, your back pressing against his stomach as he continues to thrust into you harshly, his hand now wrapping around your neck. “Who’s making you feel this good? Who’s pussy is this, Y/N” You whine, looking up at your mate as he stares down at you, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead.
“Yours! God, it’s only yours, Teyam. Only you can fuck me this good!” You mewl, reaching back to grip onto him in any way possible.
“That’s right, Sweet girl. Only me. Not that fucking Skxawng—or anyone else, me” he pushed you back down, pressing his stomach to you as he picked his pace back up, placing multiple kisses along your back as you begged. “My dirty fucking girl, come for me”
You cried, moving your tired hips against his as he coached you. He needed you to come now before he lost himself, he didn’t want to come like this. He needed one more out of you.
“Teyam… I’m so tired” You wipe your eyes, tears of pleasure rolling down your cheeks.
“I know, Sweet girl. You can do it, hold onto me” He intertwined your hands on the wood floor, pushing into you as deep as he could. “I can feel it, baby. Let it go, I’ve got you”
Your hands gripped his as you felt your third release crashing over you, a mixture of moans, gasps and cries leaving your mouth while he stroked you through your high. You knew what was next but you didn’t know If you’d be able to take it, you were so tired to the point that if you had closed your eyes you would’ve passed out.
“Neteyam” you cry as he pulls out of you, hands gently lifting you to his lap. Your body trembled as your cunt rubbed against his cock, head falling in the crook of his neck trying to catch your breath. “I can’t”
“You can, baby. You can” He was weak but he needed to release soon or it would start to hurt, watching you and listening to you moan for the past hour was fun and all but it was torture to his own.
He’d always take care of you first.
You tirelessly nod your head, wrapping your arms around his neck as he lifted you up, lining himself up to your entrance for the last time. You both let out a shaky breath as he slid inside you, slowly sinking the deepest he had been all night. He needed you like this to come, needed you to look at him as he released inside you.
“I fucking love you” He says breathlessly, guiding your hips as you ride him. Your hands tugged his hair making him moan, your ears peeking at the sound. “So fucking close, Y/N”
You cup his face in your hands, laying your sweating forehead against his. “Come for me, Sweet boy. Give me another baby” He let out a loud moan, his ears perking up and his cheeks getting hot as he stared into your eyes, pulling you all the way down.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck” He whimpers in your ear as he grips your hips tightly, finally letting go and painting your gummy walls white with his thick seed. You moaned his name once more, the warm feeling never ceasing to amaze you even after four years.
You collapse in his arms, eyes fluttering shut as his arms wrap around you, breath still shaking as he came down from his high.
“Syulang” He calls your name but your entirely too fucked out to care, falling into his body more then before. “Y/N, baby” He slightly panics, worried he had pushed you unconscious. “Talk to me, Sweet girl” He lifts your head up, cupping your heavy head in his hands.
You hum, nodding your head as you relax against his grasp, you were so beyond tired but you were okay. “I’m okay” He sighs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “so tired, Nete…”
“I know, baby. Go to sleep, I’ll take care of you” You open your eyes, laying your hand against one of his against your face, a weak smile washing over your lips.
“Happy anniversary, Ma’Teyam” He leans down, pressing a final kiss to your soft lips before leaning his forehead back against yours, closing his eyes as your queues disconnect.
“Happy anniversary, My love”
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If you liked this, make sure to check out my other writings on my masters list! Thank you all for the support 💙.
This is a little rushed but not really so it might be a little bad but I’m too lazy to proof read it sooo
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urdepressedslut · 11 months
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Protect me
♡ Pairing: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader
♡ Summary: With Zemo hanging around, you begin to feel very protective over Bucky.
♡ Warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of buckys trauma, anxiety attack
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You were on edge ever since Zemo showed up, knowing what he put Bucky through made you feel extremely protective over him.
Your cheeks were flushed with rage, your nostrils flaring in attempt to hold yourself back from killing Zemo yourself. Zemo would try and be civil, starting small talk, being extra nice. You weren’t having any of it, you were snappy and short with him. Trying to keep conversation to a minimum, knowing that the second you opened your mouth, shit would go down.
Zemo found it hilarious and found the whole act to be entertaining. Now he was pestering you with dumb questions, making it his goal to get you to break. He found it pathetic that someone like you, was trying to protect someone like The Winter Soldier.
Bucky on the other hand found it adorable, and felt incredibly special with your protectiveness. His heart attempted to explode at every tiny gesture you’d make.
Always putting yourself in between him and Zemo. You changing the subject if Zemo tried to poke at Bucky’s trauma. Making sure you kept him reassured that he was okay. That the words don’t work on him anymore when he started to overthink.
All these things adding to the list of why he loves you.
Although Bucky loved seeing your protective side, he knew you were holding back much more than you were letting off. He could tell you were incredibly anxious, from the second Zemo joined their group.
He had made it clear that you didn’t have to be so strong for him, but you refused and kept up your guard. He knew that eventually things would get better, but for now he felt useless.
The air was thick with tension as Zemo did all the talking with Selby.
You were having a hard time holding yourself together, upset that Bucky had to portray The Winter Soldier again.
Selby kept giving you a judgmental side eye, making you nervous that she was growing suspicious. But otherwise didn’t push too much, and instead focused her attention on Bucky and Sam.
“What’s the offer?” Selby asked Zemo, smirking evilly.
“Tell us what you know about the super soldier serum,” Zemo starts, standing up to circle Bucky, “And I give you him. Along with the code words to control him, of course.”
Bucky doesn’t budge, standing still with an empty look on his face, staying in character. You clench your hands into fists at Zemo’s words, sneaking a look at Bucky and you swear you saw a hint of fear in his eyes.
Zemo continues to circle him, touching him as he makes rounds. Selby grins at his offer, making you sick to your stomach.
“He will do anything you want.” Zemo adds, caressing Bucky’s face. The words and actions had you seeing red, your chest tightening up.
Your nails dug into your palms, drawing crescent shaped cuts, blood starting to pool in your fist.
There was obviously a line that no one wanted to cross, and considering that this plan started over the line… It was too much for you. You couldn’t listen to Zemo talk about Bucky like he wasn’t even there, like he was an object.
Your nose tingled, the familiar warning that you were about to cry, and your fists shook slightly. Zemo and Selby kept talking, but to you it was all muffled.
This wasn’t the place or time to break down, and despite not being able to breathe well, you locked it away, not allowing any tears to fall.
—————————❂—————————
Someone had eventually shot Selby, and that someone ended up revealing themselves as Sharon Carter. One thing led to another, and now everyone was gathered at Sharon’s place.
Bucky had noticed quickly that you hadn’t spoken too much since before the interaction with Selby, and he had grown worried.
You looked paler to him, the gorgeous color in your cheeks gone. You were staring off into space if not listening in the conversation.
He figured it was going to be hard for you to see him back as The Winter Soldier, considering how protective you’ve been. But he was only acting, and he knew you knew that.
Bucky walked over to your staring form near the window, which had an incredible view but he doubted you were actually looking at it.
“Hey doll, you doing okay? You’ve been awfully quiet, which is not like you at all.” Bucky tried to lighten the mood, but barely saw you flinch from his attempt.
“Baby? Please talk to me.” He pleaded, growing more worried every second you stayed silent.
He wrapped his arms around your frame and it was then he felt you shaking. Pulling away he immediately scanned you over, taking in your balled up hands, noticing streaks of red leaking through the cracks of your fingers. Lastly, he could hear your pained wheezes, like you couldn’t breathe.
“Babydoll, I need you to look at me.” He told you softly, keeping his tone gentle.
Reaching out, he collected your fists into his palms, internally cheering when you moved your head to finally meet his eyes.
“There you are, now I need you to take a deep breath with me okay? C’mon baby, do it with me.” He told you slowly, and watched you take a tiny breath in, wincing when you strained your lungs to expand.
He coached you through a couple more breaths until you were taking in large gulps of air. It was like your brain finally allowed you to process everything as soon as you had enough oxygen.
“There we go, you did so well doll,” Bucky noticed your lip quivering, and watched tears gather in your eyes. “Oh baby, c’mere.”
He scooped you up into his arms, caging you with his embrace. Letting yourself feel the warmth of Bucky’s arms, you let out pained sobs, holding onto him like he was going to disappear.
“I was s-so scared.” She whimpered, causing Bucky to hold you tighter. His heart hurting from how broken you sounded.
“It’s over now baby, you don’t have to be scared.” He cooed, sneaking his metal hand under your shirt to stroke your back, knowing that the coolness brought you comfort in situations like this.
“I hate it when they talk about you like that,” You cried out, “Like you’re— like—“
“It’s okay baby, you don’t have to finish, I know.” He stopped you, knowing your words would’ve brought on a new wave of tears.
“I hated that I couldn’t do anything, I fucking hated it.” You cried.
He frowned, hugging your sobbing form, his heart breaking at the fact that you were upset because he had to portray The Winter Soldier. You were more upset for him, than he was for himself. You were too caring for his heart to handle.
You lifted your face from his chest, leaning up to meet his eyes. You held his face in your hands, looking into his eyes with panic.
“You okay?” You asked him softly, and he melted at your touch, pushing his face further into your hands. Even in this state, you were still worried about him.
“I’m okay babydoll. As long as I’ve got you with me, I’m gonna be okay.” He told you, lifting his flesh hand to gently grab your chin, letting his thumb caress your bottom lip. “Are you okay?”
“Now I am,” You nodded to him, “I just— You’ve already been through so much, and I hate seeing you have to do something so traumatic. I just wanna protect you from everything… I can’t and won’t see you hurt again.”
Bucky’s heart swelled at your words, there wasn’t anyone else that could make him feel as special as you do. You made him feel so important.
He pulled you in, giving your lips a quick but passionate kiss. His flesh hand cradling the back of your head, his metal hand pushing on your lower back, your front meeting his.
“I love you so much.” He whispered, leaning his forehead against yours.
“I love you too Buck.” You murmured, nuzzling your nose into his.
There was nothing else in the world you’d ever want, all you wanted was right here in his arms.
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thehighladywrites · 5 months
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Sugar daddy Rhysand
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SUMMARY: What would our High Lord be as your sugar daddy?
warnings: mdni, nsfw, sexual themes,
A/N: This was so fun to make!!
banners: @cafekitsune
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- sugar daddy Rhysand who overhears you and your friends at Rita’s talking about how you’re struggling with your rent and scholar fees.
- sugar daddy Rhysand who initally seeks you out and introduces himself for it to be more of a business transaction.
- Sure thing, it's a win-win for both of you. Rhysand covers your expenses, and you take care of his physical needs.
- sugar daddy Rhysand who has an overload of money which would be perfect to spend on you.
- In return, you give him company and comfort. You accompany him to balls, go on dates, shopping sprees, listen when he needs someone to talk to.
- You both agree that this is a good dynamic, and that neither one of you view this as a romantic relationship. You agree that neither one will fall in love. It’s strictly physical.
- sugar daddy Rhysand who at first seems to just like hanging out with you, making you wonder why he's into the whole sugar baby thing instead of dating. But after he starts sending money your way following your first few meet-ups, you stop questioning it.
- sugar daddy Rhysand who picks out luxurious lingerie in the hues he believes complement your skin tone and shape, choosing the finest laces and silks available. He's well aware they won't stay on for long, but he still likes seeing you in them either way.
- sugar daddy Rhysand whose cock hardens everytime he buys you something. Seeing you flash a smile and your little ” thank you daddy, I love it!! ” makes his pride and ego skyrocket
- sugar daddy Rhysand who makes you an authorized user on his account so that you never have to ask him for money. He links your accounts together so that anything he earns ends up in your account aswell.
- sugar daddy Rhysand who kisses you extra hard infront of males who try to hit on you, making it clear to them that you’re off limits.
- sugar daddy Rhysand who rewards you whenever you show him a good grade by eating you out on his throne, with you wearing his crown.
- sugar daddy Rhysand who punishes you when you’re bratty by edging you for hours, and when you finally think he’s giving in after apologizing and begging, he steps away with a wicked grin.
” Bet you’re never doing it again. ”
” M’so sorry daddy, I promise I didn’t mean to flirt with that guy! I swear I’ll never ever do it again, just l-let me come, please. “
- sugar daddy Rhysand who finally lets you come, but only if you ride him with no assistance, because at the end of the day, he could never truly deny you. But he still needs to show you that he doesn’t tolerate brats, so you’ll have to chase your own high.
- sugar daddy Rhysand who lets you know in you mind that Keir managed to piss him off yet again with his relentless talk, and commands you to wait for him in his bed, naked, to fuck his anger out on you.
- sugar daddy Rhysand who gives you 5000 $ for everytime you come on his fingers when you’re out for dinner at a fancy restaurant, who loved speeding his fingers up when the waiter comes to take your orders, watching your face flush, thinking it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen.
- sugar daddy Rhysand who buys you an incredible and luxurious apartment in the fancy neighborhoods of velaris, making you his neighbor aswell. He pays for all maintenance and whatever decorations and renovations you desire.
- sugar daddy Rhysand who is confused when he finds out you spend your own money, demanding to see the receipt so he can give you back the amount you spent. He finds it almost offensive.
- sugar daddy Rhysand who lays on your chest as you scrape your nails against his scalp to calm him down after a shitty day
- sugar daddy Rhysand who cheers for you the loudest at your graduation. Who buys you the most thoughtfull gift that makes you bawl your eyes out.
- sugar daddy Rhysand who brings you along on trips to other courts because he desires your company so much. Is there a hidden agenda when he reserves the most romantic accommodations? Certainly not. He simply wants the best for his sweet girl.
- sugar daddy Rhysand who treats you as though you were tailor-made for him, with a captivating blend of gentleness and authority that never fails to turn you on. His imposing stature and unwavering willingness to fulfill desires, whether it be financially or physically, surpasses your previous lovers in every way.
- sugar daddy Rhysand who slowly starts to fall in love with the things you do for him, and starts to realize that he has broken your inital agreement to not fall in love.
- sugar daddy Rhysand who is wary of telling you incase you don’t share the same feelings. But he braves it and tells you anyways because it kills him to not be able to rightfully claim you.
- sugar daddy Rhysand who is over the moon and could cry from relief and happiness when you tell him that you’ve been feeling the same.
- sugar daddy Rhysand who fucks you so gently and romantic with whispers of sweet nothings and promises for the future the night of the confession.
- sugar daddy Rhysand who sees the way your eyes sparkle and cheeks heat when he first introduces you as his for the first time. He swears he feels his heart burst out of his chest to see you so happy and content.
- sugar daddy Rhysand who feels that golden thread, binding your souls together after a few months of dating.
- sugar daddy Rhysand who sets up to have the biggest, most luxurious and ornate mating ceremony in Prythian when you decide to bake his favorite pie for him, ultimately accepting the bond that intertwine your very souls.
- sugar daddy Rhysand who makes sure you never need or want for anything, who treats you like his queen, and gives you the life you deserve.
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minastras · 1 year
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dear stranger, do you remember me too? // sunghoon
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When you were sixteen, you betrayed Park Sunghoon. Or he betrayed you. Whichever it was, you knew two things for sure: 1) kids were cruel, and 2) you would spend the rest of your life trying to make up your mind. Well, until you saw him again. It was a strange feeling, meeting him in the flesh even though his ghost had been haunting you for three years.
at a glance: childhood friends to strangers to lovers, reformed bad boy! sunghoon, university au, pure angst (i received High Level Clearance from @end-hyphen to put him through the wringer sorry), ft. hyung line
words: 12.3k
warnings: swearing, mild mentions of blood, sexual harassment, and fights (nothing serious), alcohol and cigarette use
——————————
For as long as you could remember, Park Sunghoon had been the centre of your solar system, the axis around which your universe revolved. You’d known him since the day you were born. You lived on the same street, four houses apart, and as the only two kids in the area you naturally bonded instantly with each other. He was your best friend, your confidant, your partner in crime.
As soon as you both were no taller than his coffee table, you spent nearly every day together at the playground behind your street, running through the neighbourhood blowing bubbles and chasing butterflies.
“Do you think we could both fit on the same swing?” You could still hear your voice, light and flowery back then, asking.
“Let’s find out,” his equally childish voice rang back, before he yanked you into his lap and struggled to get enough leverage with his feet to push you both off the ground.
That ended with you tumbling out of the swing and onto the tarmac just by the playground, scraping your knee. You both must’ve been only five years old then, but you didn’t cry, instead stubbornly getting to your feet and ignoring the blood trickling down your calf until you were back in the privacy of your living room.
He had carried you home on his back, even though you could walk just fine, and sat you down on the sofa while he cleaned your broken skin with a tissue.
“You can cry if you want,” he had said simply, in that innocent manner only kids have.
You were with him all the way through kindergarten to middle school to high school. Neither of you had many friends; you were both quiet and shy and somewhat rough around the edges. But that didn’t matter, because you had each other.
As you grew from toddlers to precocious children to teenagers, you continued spending nearly every day together. When you weren’t glued to each other’s sides in school, he was spending the night at your house after class, or you were playing video games in his room on weekends.
You always looked forward to Fridays. Sunghoon finished school an hour after you did and he would wait for you in an empty classroom. Afterwards you would take the bus into town and waste away the rest of the afternoon at the movies or in the arcade. You’d buy fried chicken for dinner and eat in your room, and he would spend the night. In the summertime, you’d climb up to the roof and stargaze and eventually fall asleep beside him, only to be rudely awakened by middle-of-the-night summer showers.
You had never known anything else but you and Sunghoon against the world.
——————————
When you were sixteen, things began to change.
“Do you want to do something special tonight?” Sunghoon asked. You were hanging out in your bedroom, him lying on your bed and you sitting on a bean bag on the floor, listening to music and studying.
“Like what?”
He grinned excitedly and handed you his phone.  “Jeongmin invited me to join him and his friends. He asked me to bring you, too.”
You read the brief text exchange and frowned. “Jeongmin? As in, iljin and leader of that gang of dickheads, Jeongmin?”
“He’s actually nicer than he seems, you know,” Sunghoon told you. “He said he wants us all to hang out.”
You gave him his phone back, incredulous. “Hoon, the four of them beat up Ahn Jinho so badly last month that he’s still in hospital. You can’t seriously be considering taking him up on his offer. He’s going to drag us out into a park and kill us.”
“I think he just wants to show us how to have fun. You know, live a little. Why else would he invite two nerd loners like us?” he asked.
“Because we’re weak, lonely, and easy to take advantage of?” you pointed out. When he didn’t respond, you sighed. “Do you really want to go?”
“I do.”
“Fine.”
He shook his head rapidly. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”
“And let you get killed all by yourself? No thanks. We die together.”
——————————
You knew it was a mistake the second the conversation ended, but, as you said, you weren’t very well going to let Sunghoon go alone. And he was adamant, longing for friends, and desperate for an adventure. He clung to your arm as you walked from your house to the abandoned car park, thanking you repeatedly the entire journey.
Regret set in almost instantly. For you, anyway. Sunghoon seemed to be having a blast.
Jeongmin was already there waiting for you, with a case of cheap alcohol in his hand and his three lackeys in tow. You sat in the car park watching as Sunghoon drank and smoked with them, pretending to enjoy himself even though you knew he despised the taste of both of those things.
Jeongmin respected your assertion that you wouldn’t smoke (a shocker), but continued pushing you to drink the entire night. You fidgeted under his leering gaze, only growing more anxious as the minutes ticked by and he kept trying to ply you with alcohol, kept sitting closer and closer to you, kept returning his hand to your thigh no matter how many times you shifted away. Sunghoon didn’t stop him.
At the end of the night, you dragged Sunghoon back to your house and managed to get him up to your room without waking up your dad. He was wasted and reeked of smoke, incredibly lucky that his parents would just assume he’d spent the night at yours like always. You dumped him on your bed, aired out his clothes, and mixed honey and lemon juice into a glass of warm water for him to try and stop his cough.
“Did you have fun?” he asked, already changed into some of his sleeping clothes he kept in your room. His words were slurred and his cheeks were red, but he was coherent enough. “God, my throat feels like shit.”
“Because you smoked half a pack in one sitting like you were cosplaying as a forty-five year old weathered truck driver. Drink your honey lemon water,” you ordered, opening your bedroom windows so the cigarette smoke wouldn’t linger. “And no, I did not.”
He pouted but complied. “They’re not that bad.”
You took the empty glass from his hands and pulled the blankets up over him, touching his forehead. His skin was warm and flushed from the alcohol. “We’ll agree to disagree,” you said, heading downstairs to wash the glass.
“Lie down with me,” he whined the second you came back, somehow having managed to tuck himself into your bed like a sushi roll.
You switched off the lights and climbed into bed beside him, close but not touching. “I really don’t think you should be mixing with them, Hoon. They’re bad news,” you said quietly.
He’d fallen asleep before you ever got the chance to finish your sentence.
——————————
Over the next few weeks, Sunghoon started going out on more of these ‘adventures’. You stopped tagging along, but he still relied on you to shelter him in your room so his parents wouldn’t find out where he was disappearing to. And you continued to keep your phone right by your pillow while you slept so you could go bring him home if and when he called you.
He kept smoking around Jeongmin and his friends, even though he hated it and it made his throat itchy. You had started doing your own grocery shopping so your dad wouldn’t notice how fast the lemons and honey ran out nowadays.
When you and him were together, he acted exactly the same. He was still sweet, thoughtful, and just a little bit snarky. He still stuck to you in school, still waited for you every Friday afternoon, and still followed you to whichever new restaurant you wanted to try out on the weekends. He still lit up with a smile when you came by to his figure skating practice to cheer him on, much to the chagrin of his coach.
But whenever he went out to get wasted with Jeongmin and his gang and you had to go pick him up, you caught glimpses of the person he was becoming. He was picking fights and losing his temper at the smallest things, aggressive and hot-headed and dripping in machismo. No longer charmingly sarcastic with a gentle side, now he was just mean.
As soon as you two were back in your room, however, that all melted away. He would cuddle up to you, apologise, and thank you for always bringing him home no matter how ungodly the hour. If he woke up before you, he would tidy your room as a way to return the favour and leave a snack on your bedside table.
The snack was always accompanied by a yellow post-it note which he took from your desk (you didn’t even use those, but you kept them around specifically for him) with a dumb doodle or lots of hearts or both.
You weren’t happy about this development, but you didn’t do anything to stop it. It was his life, not yours. And you weren’t really in the business of speaking up about things that bothered you anyway. You kept your head down and your mouth shut, and stayed out of Jeongmin’s way.
Until one fateful Tuesday, about two months after the first invitation.
Sunghoon rarely talked to you about his newfound friends; he knew you didn’t approve of them and he didn’t want to upset you. This particular piece of news, though, was just too exciting to keep from you. After all, you were his best friend. He wanted you to be a part of his new life.
“Guess what the guys and I are doing on Sunday,” he said. You nodded for him to continue, somewhat distracted by the cinnamon rolls you were baking together in his kitchen, not entirely sure when ‘the guys’ had become a thing. “Jeongmin’s cousin is in town, and he has a fancy new car. We’re gonna hotwire it, drive it down to the cliff, and set it on fire.”
You stopped dead in your tracks, your jaw dropping open. “What? Sunghoon, that’s too dangerous.”
“That’s why we’ll do it at the cliff. There’s nothing around there that could burn down,” he explained, like that made it okay.
If it weren’t for his completely serious tone and expression, you would have thought he was joking. You set down the mixing bowl you were holding. “No, you could get hurt,” you said, adding, “And what if you get caught? That’s grand larceny and arson.”
“The guy’s an asshole anyway,” he said nonchalantly, not listening to you.
“That doesn’t make it legal, Hoon. Or safe. I’m serious. You can’t do that.”
He folded his arms across his chest, scowling. “You’re just jealous,” he said.
“I don’t want you to go to jail,” you corrected.
“No, you’re jealous I finally have friends other than you. Like, cool, normal, friends,” he snapped, angrier than you’d ever seen him.
Never in your life had he raised his voice at you. You pretty much never fought, aside from short bouts of time when one of you was upset for one reason or another, but you always smoothed things over through calm, measured conversations. Not arguments like this.
You paused, stepping away from the counter, from him. “Is that what this is about? I’m not good enough for you?” you asked, your voice soft.
He had never once indicated he was unhappy with your friendship, with your relaxed hangouts in each other’s houses and comfortable outings to cinemas and restaurants and bookstores. But clearly he wanted something else: to be cool, normal, and have friends that weren’t shy recluses.
You trusted him. He was your whole world, and you’d always assumed you were his too.
“That’s not what I meant,” he said, pulling back his words as you turned to leave. He followed you, pleading, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”
“I’m going home,” you stated firmly, rushing out of his house and slamming the front door shut behind you.
——————————
By Sunday evening, you cracked. You had been avoiding Sunghoon for the last two days, and both of your families had noticed. You couldn’t stop thinking about that night, if he would be caught, if he was going to be okay. There was no way you’d be able to talk to his parents without him finding out unless he was out at figure skating training, so you confided in your dad. And he called Sunghoon’s mom right then and there.
“You did the right thing, Y/N. I’m proud of you,” your dad said after he hung up, patting your head.
“It doesn’t feel like I did,” you mumbled, your insides twisting and twisting away.
“I know, honey.” Your dad rubbed your shoulders comfortingly, before offering, “Do you want to go out for ice cream? Take your mind off it? I can call off work.”
You clung to him for a few more seconds, then let go. “I just want to be alone for a while, if that’s okay,” you said, retreating to your bedroom while your dad left for his night shift at the plant.
You weren’t sure how long you lay in your bed staring at the ceiling in complete silence, numbed by guilt, before your bedroom door swung open and Sunghoon barged into your room. In your state, you hadn’t even heard him enter your house. You scrambled to your feet.
“Did you fucking snitch on me?”
He was in all black, with a graphic t-shirt over a long sleeved polo, ripped jeans, and boots. With his hair styled and jewellery on, he must’ve been ready to leave the house, because that was how he normally dressed to meet Jeongmin and his gang.
“Hoon-”
“I told you that in confidence,” he snapped, shutting your bedroom door. His eyes, narrowed in hatred, glowered at you. You walked over to him and reached for his hand, but he slapped you away, recoiling at your touch like you were a hot stove. “How could you do this to me?”
“I was worried about you,” you said, your tone begging, mollifying. You rarely saw him this angry, and never had that anger been directed at you.
“Bullshit. My parents just screamed at me for two hours. Jeongmin’s gonna be pissed at me,” he fumed. “You weren’t fucking worried about me. You didn’t want me to be doing things without you.”
You dug your nails into your palms, trying to stop yourself from crying. It seemed to work, for a while, anyway. “Is that how you see me? As a needy pest who won’t let you go?” you asked, each word a chore to get out, your eyes already stinging. Not from his words, but from the sheer contempt in his expression.
Had he really spent the last sixteen years so desperate to get rid of you, like you were a persistent barnacle on a ship that refused to leave? Did he hate you that much? How had you never known?
He took a step towards you. His eyes were cold, his jaw was clenched, and you couldn’t even recognise him. You stepped back cautiously.
“Oh, like you’re some perfect angel,” he spat through gritted teeth. 
“I’m not. I just don’t want you to throw away your future. I-”
“You know what your problem is?” he shouted, cutting you off. He took yet another step forward, and you again stepped back. The backs of your knees hit your bed frame. “You’re a hypocrite. You hold everyone to such a high moral standard that no one is ever good enough for you. Not me, and not yourself. That’s why you fucking hate yourself so much.”
You couldn’t speak. Your heart was firmly lodged in your throat. For several agonising seconds, the only things you could hear were his furious breathing and your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.
“I think you should go home,” you finally said after a long pause. Your voice was shaking as you held back tears. “We can talk about this when you’ve calmed down-”
“Don’t fucking tell me to calm down!”
Sunghoon raised his hand to push back his fringe, but you didn’t know that. Because when his hand came up, you flinched. 
He lowered his hand immediately, only then noticing that he’d backed you into a corner. Instead of shock or anger or hurt, there was nothing but pure, unadulterated fear in your eyes.
“Did you think I was going to hit you?” he whispered, stepping back.
You squeezed your eyes shut and turned away, walking to your open window and resting your hands on the windowsill. “Please leave,” you said simply, fighting to keep your voice stable as tears began to roll down your face, not looking at him.
He stood and waited for a minute, watching you. You could feel his gaze. But when you refused to turn back around, he sighed and left. You heard your bedroom door close, and then your front door a few seconds later, and then it was so, so quiet.
——————————
You and Sunghoon avoided each other like the plague after that fight, although that torture hadn’t lasted long. Within two weeks, he’d withdrawn from school and vanished. His parents told you he’d gone to a boarding school in a different town, but they didn’t say where or why.
You never saw him again.
Being in your hometown for those last two years of high school was difficult for you. Having to live just down the road from his family home, constantly surrounded by all of your old haunts, made it hard for you to get him out of your head.
After high school you’d gone to a small university to do your first year with a conditional offer from your dream school in your back pocket. You needed time to save up money, and you were hoping to secure a scholarship with your first year grades.
You’d been lucky enough to make a new friend, Heeseung. Like you, he was only in that university temporarily to work his way into a scholarship. Your relationship was initially one of convenience and comfort — neither of you were particularly keen on mixing with the other students you never planned to see again after your first year — but you quickly became genuine friends.
You kept each other motivated, and both managed to secure transfers before your second year started. In fact, you’d done so well that your then-university had begged you to stay, offering you scholarship after scholarship and full fee remissions. But you both turned them down. You had loftier ambitions.
Once you moved away to university, things got better. Of course, the vestiges remained. You still had Sunghoon’s Spotify playlists in your account, your shared arcade membership card in your wallet, and some of his socks mixed in with your own. Before you fought he’d borrowed your favourite pair of red shrimp socks, and now you were never going to get them back.
But you didn’t think about him nearly as often as you used to. He was no longer a ghost living in your head, but a will-o’-the-wisp that occasionally caught your eye when you saw something that reminded you of him.
And now you and Heeseung were standing in the foyer of your new dorm with nothing from your past but a small suitcase each, in the university you’d been chasing your entire lives, ready to start your second year. 
“We made it,” Heeseung whispered to you, still not fully comprehending it all. You were really here.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous in my life,” you whispered back.
“Me too. If we weren’t roommates I’d be shitting bricks by now.”
The school had been gracious enough to allow you and Heeseung to live together in a small apartment within the music students’ dorm, since you were pretty sure at least one of you would have gone bonkers if you were separated. You would be sharing the floor with another similar apartment housing three students who would meet you in the foyer to help you move in.
Right on time, one of them (you presumed) came bounding down the stairs excitedly. He broke into a broad smile the second he saw your suitcases, his originally stern-looking features softening instantly as he did.
“Are you the transfers? Nice to meet you! I’m Jay. We spoke on the phone.”
You spoke up first when it became clear Heeseung was far too anxious to talk. “Hi! I’m Y/N, and this is Heeseung. Nice to meet you too.”
“Welcome aboard,” Jay said, easily picking up your suitcase before you could object. Heeseung fumbled for his own. “My roommates are just finishing getting your apartment ready. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Shouldn’t that be the school’s job?” you asked, following him up the stairs.
“This place can be a bit of a circus, believe it or not,” Jay remarked, making you and Heeseung exchange glances. When you reached the fifth floor, not a single hair on his head was out of place even though your bag was heavy as fuck.
“Thank you,” you said.
“No problem. That’s us over there,” he said, pointing to the first door on the level, “and this is you guys.”
The apartment was modestly-sized and simple, but clean and otherwise perfect. Jay introduced you to his first roommate Jake, who was sitting at the kitchen counter when you arrived.
“Thanks for setting all of this up for us. It must’ve been a lot of work,” Heeseung said, finally speaking after you elbowed him in the side (be normal, man). “You’ve been so helpful.”
“It’s nothing. Jay and I both transferred here last semester too, so we know how hard it can be,” Jake said kindly, waving away your gratitude. “Our other roommate did the same for us back then.”
“Speaking of which, Hoon! Come out here and meet the new students!” Jay called.
A third voice came floating from down the corridor. “Coming!”
When the aforementioned roommate emerged from the corridor, your heart stopped. Your blood turned to lead in your veins. Your ears began ringing, the sound so loud it washed away almost everything else.
You could barely hear Jake as he said, “Hoon, these are our new neighbours, Heeseung and Y/N. Guys, this is-”
“Sunghoon,” you finished. His name came out of your mouth, but it didn’t sound like your voice. Your hands were numb.
“Y/N,” Sunghoon said, at the exact same time.
Although he was taller now, with a broader frame, a sharper jaw, and a deeper voice, it was still him. He was frozen in shock, looking right at you, unblinking. He had on a white t-shirt that read ‘rise above’ that he’d had since the first year of high school — you bought it for him for his fifteenth birthday. It had been massively oversized on his thin body back then, but now he filled it out nicely.
Right there, as you stood in the kitchen of your new apartment, all the guilt and heartbreak and mourning that you thought you had left behind in the child that died three years ago came rushing back to you, squeezing the air from your lungs.
And in that moment you were reminded yet again of the lesson you had spent the last three years of your life learning day after day after day: movies lied.
The real heartbreak was never the big fight. It was every time after when the other person crossed your mind in idle thoughts or memories, every time you saw or heard something that reminded you of them, every time you pulled up their contact on your phone and read the distant timestamp of your final conversation.
It was every belonging of theirs they left behind in your childhood bedroom, and everything you owned that had been a gift from them. It was every food you ever ate together and every song you ever listened to together and every place you ever went to together.
It was every time they reached out from beyond the grave and touched some part of your life and you had to lose them all over again.
You looked at him, and he looked at you. His eyes hadn’t changed at all. You were sixteen once more: standing in his kitchen making cinnamon rolls, locking your bedroom door behind him after the last time you spoke because you were scared he would return, desperately running away from him in the school halls.
He glanced down at your hands, your fingers laced together to hide the fact that they were shaking. You had a habit of doing that when you were nervous. Around your left wrist was a silver bracelet, one that he’d gotten you on a whim six years ago. You still had it. And you still wore it. And it was you.
Jay smiled cheerily, oblivious. “Do you guys know each other?”
——————————
Your first week of your second year was amazing. You were finally at your dream university in your dream major, with a full-ride scholarship under your belt and your best friend right by your side. It was everything you and Heeseung had worked so hard for.
The building you lived in was a dorm just for music scholars, a small, close-knit group of under thirty students. Most of them, like Jay and Jake, also bled money.
But your experience was somewhat soured by one thing: Park Sunghoon. He was everywhere.
Of course, that was to be expected. It was a small cohort, the only new friends you’d made so far were his roommates, and you were literally neighbours.
After the day you’d moved in, neither of you had spoken a word to each other. You ran into him constantly, and you were always going to classes and grabbing lunch together, but you’d never talked to him directly. He was just always there.
On Thursday, as the five of you left a lecture together, Sunghoon politely excused himself. “I won’t join you guys for lunch today. I need to pick up something from the shops.”
So you found yourself sitting in the food court with Heeseung, Jay, and Jake. When the conversation naturally fizzled out, it was only quiet for a few seconds before Jay clapped his hands together and asked, “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s the deal with you and Sunghoon?”
You looked at Heeseung for guidance. On that first night, you’d already told him everything. He shrugged.
“Uh- well. We grew up together, and when we were sixteen we had a falling out,” you answered cautiously.
“Then you lost touch?” Jake frowned.
“You could say that,” you said, reaching for Heeseung’s hand under the table and adding, “I think Sunghoon should probably be the one to tell you the rest, though. When he’s ready.”
——————————
At Heeseung’s insistence (listen, you’re clearly still hurting over this, and it would be good for you to talk to him, at least), you bullied yourself into texting Sunghoon at the end of your first week. With trembling hands, you asked him if he would meet you in the botanical gardens on Sunday. He replied almost instantly: what time?
Waiting for him on a park bench, chronically early as you always were, you were bouncing your leg so much that the entire bench was shaking. The last time you’d spoken to him was over three years ago, when you’d pleaded with him to get out of your room.
You had drawn up an agreement with Heeseung that morning: if things went south, you would send him an S.O.S. message so he could come by and pretend to whisk you away to tend to an Urgent Apartment Matter. You even programmed your phone to text him automatically if you pressed your power button five times in a row. He called you ‘insufferably paranoid’, which you took as a compliment.
Sunghoon was a minute late, and, by the looks of it, just as anxious as you were.
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
He sat down next to you, a polite distance away. It was almost like how you used to sit in your neighbourhood park late at night after you’d aged out of the playground, eating convenience store ramen together until a concerned stranger or annoyed police officer told you to go home.
You both looked around for a while before you couldn’t take it anymore and bit the bullet. “How have you been?” you asked, stilted.
“Good. I’ve been good.” He cleared his throat and rubbed his sweaty palms on his jeans, nodding at nothing. “What about you?”
“Good.” You paused too, searching your brain for something to say.
“I went to military school,” he blurted out, knowing you were too polite to ask him directly. “Um- for the last two years of high school. That’s why I disappeared.”
Military school? So the rumours floating around the town had been right.
“Madam Choi kept asking me about you,” you told him after a while. Madam Choi was the sweet, grandmotherly owner of the convenience store on the corner of your street who always asked how you were doing and chastised you for eating too many snacks even though your unhealthy diets kept her shop afloat. It was the only topic you could think of that wasn’t too painful to bring up.
Sunghoon laughed at that, a sound you hadn’t heard for years. He loosened up, and you did too. Your awkwardness gradually began melting away as he told you about Jay and Jake, about his time at military school, and about all the cool spots in the city you should check out. You told him about Heeseung, your previous university, and how you didn’t know how to navigate your new university’s portal because it was designed to frustrate.
Conspicuously, neither of you brought up the past. Reminiscing was off the table, an arrangement implicitly reached between you two at some point during the conversation. Even when you finally worked up the courage to ask what you’d been wanting to ask for the last three years, you still couldn’t bring yourself anywhere close to acknowledging what happened.
“Are you still mad at me?” you asked.
Sunghoon didn’t hesitate for even a second, which made you smile. “No.”
As he continued talking, however, it became clear that he was considering every word he said before he said it. He was careful, deliberate, holding back.
“I’ve grown up since then,” he said slowly. “I haven’t been mad for a long time. Actually, I wanted to thank you for doing what you did. I could have been sitting in jail by now.” He clasped his hands together and turned to you. “Are you still mad at me?”
You were equally as assured and quick with your own response. “No. I was never mad at you.”
“You should’ve been,” he joked. “I caused you so much trouble, always waking you up in the middle of the night and crashing in your room.”
You laughed and shook your head. “I’m happy things worked out for you, Hoon. And that you got into university despite everything that happened,” you said.
“Thanks,” he smiled. Although the rest of him looked older and more mature, his smile remained the same.
“If I’d done those things I never would’ve gotten a second chance,” you mused, more to yourself than to him, but he heard it anyway.
Instantly, his mood soured.
“Okay, so did you rat on me to protect me and my future? Or because you were jealous? Because that sounds like jealousy,” he snapped.
Shit. You reached for your phone and pressed the home button five times. But he wasn’t wrong.
Yes, you had been worried about him as you’d said back then, but you were also jealous. Not of his new friends, but of his life. His parents were rich, and he had two of them. If he had gone out that night and been caught, there was a non-zero chance that he could have gotten off with a slap on the wrist.
His parents had the money to ship him off to a private military school for two whole years at the drop of a hat, and he’d been able to come straight to your dream university. If you had joined him and Jeongmin that night, you would’ve been locked up without question.
“You ruined my life,” Sunghoon hissed, his eyes now dark and his body tense. “Do you know that?”
“You ruined your own life when you were planning to commit arson and didn’t listen to me when I told you to stop,” you countered.
He set his jaw and turned away with a scoff. “I can’t believe you.”
In the distance, you saw Heeseung jogging over to you. He must’ve been hiding in another part of the park, waiting. You weren’t the only insufferably paranoid one, it seemed.
“This isn’t how I wanted today to go, Hoon,” you sighed.
“Don’t call me that,” he spat, standing up.
“Y/N!” Heeseung shouted as he reached the bench. His face fell the moment he saw the look in your eyes. “There is an Urgent Apartment Matter. We must tend to it right away,” he stuttered, grabbing your hand and yanking you to your feet before Sunghoon even had the time to blink.
The two of you ran.
——————————
You and Sunghoon had swiftly gone right back to ignoring each other, which was pretty impressive considering you were almost always together. Jay and Jake seemed annoyingly hell-bent on taking you and Heeseung under their wing — as fellow transfers themselves, they wanted to help you acclimatise — and Sunghoon didn’t have any other friends. So he was constantly with you in classes, at parties, or hanging out in your goddamn apartment.
He spent more time staring at you than he would have liked to admit. In between gaps in conversations, or when you were distracted by one of Jay’s dissertation-length speeches about some inane topic or stupid fact, he got the chance to really look at you for the first time in years. Every time he did he felt a strange ache in his chest. You were like an actor he already knew playing a character he’d never seen before.
“Dude, why would you even say that? You called them a hypocrite?” Jake chastised, when Sunghoon finally revealed the details behind your falling out in high school a few days after Sunday.
“I just can’t imagine you as that kind of guy,” Jay said, stunned. He was still trying to picture Park Sunghoon, the would-be arsonist. 
Often, Sunghoon found himself staring not when Jay was rambling or Jake was telling you a joke, but specifically when you were with Heeseung. There was something about the way you two interacted that made his heart sting. You were comfortable with him, and he with you.
You knew he liked to sit on the inside of restaurant booths facing the door, and he knew your Subway order by heart. You kept track of the stock of his favourite drinks in your fridge, and he always had a spare charger in his bag for all the times you forgot to bring your own. You were so in tune with each other that you would tell when the other wanted to go home without needing to ask and built effortlessly on each other’s jokes. You even kind of talked the same.
“And then you said it again? Are you serious?” Jay groaned in frustration when he heard the park story. Everyone had noticed the considerable shift in mood between you and Sunghoon since Sunday, but no one had dared to mention it.
“They’re trying so hard with you, man. Why would you do that?” Jake sighed.
Sunghoon pulled hard at his hair, equally frustrated, and flopped face down on the sofa. “I don’t know! It just came out.”
There was a substantial part of him that kmew it was because he was scared he hadn’t changed. That he was still the kind of person who called their best friend a hypocrite and accused them of being jealous when they tried to protect him. That you could see that, and that Jay and Jake would realise it soon too.
The other day at the juice bar Heeseung bought you a warm honey lemon tea. When he ordered it, you and Sunghoon immediately looked at each other before turning away. Windows open to air out the stench of cigarette smoke. Your secret stash of lemons and honey. Yellow post-it notes on your bedside table. All the hours you spent taking care of him, even as he spiralled out of control.
You hadn’t even asked for it; Heeseung somehow knew you had a sore throat that day without you telling him. Apparently he could hear it in your voice, which was (according to him) slightly scratchy and hoarse. Sunghoon couldn’t hear a thing, though. You sounded the exact same to him.
It was clear that Heeseung was familiar with the person you were now, that he knew you, and he knew how to be your best friend. That was a skill that Sunghoon had lost years ago, and clearly he didn’t quite know you anymore.
At the park you hadn’t cried once, although he was sure the sixteen-year-old you would have. Perhaps you just cried less now. Perhaps you’d given up on him and no longer expected anything else from him but to be disappointed.
“You need to apologise to them,” Jake scolded.
“They won’t forgive me,” Sunghoon mumbled into the sofa fabric.
Jay threw a pillow at him. “No offence, Hoon, but from what you’ve told us I think you’re a pretty shit judge of character.”
——————————
You had the apartment to yourself that Thursday night because Heeseung had rented a studio to practise after-hours and wouldn’t be back till sunrise. Someone knocked on your door. When you didn’t answer it immediately, a painfully familiar voice rang out from the other side.
“It’s me.”
Dread was not an emotion you’d ever associated with Sunghoon, but it was all you felt when you opened the door for him. When you were kids he never waited for you to do so; he always just let himself in. You sat down at the kitchen counter together, side by side.
“Since when do you watch Queer Eye?” he asked, noticing your laptop screen.
“Heeseung introduced me to it,” you said, pushing a glass of water across the counter to him. His face darkened at the name, but you chose to ignore it. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Sunghoon bit his lip. “I wanted to say I’m sorry,” he started, wooden. While he’d seemed guarded and on edge on Sunday, now he seemed scared. “For what I said to you. And for- for everything.”
You sat rigidly on the bar stool, self-conscious, not knowing what to say.
“I had a lot of time to think over the last three years, and I realised I was insecure. I was so desperate to be seen as ‘cool’ and Jeongmin knew that. You were right; he was preying on me because he could tell how much I wanted to be a part of his world. You saw right through me because you knew- you know me better than anyone. So I lashed out at you.
“I tried so hard to put that part of my life behind me — I never told Jay or Jake about it, even — and when you came back I panicked. It was a reminder of all the fucked up things I did and the person I used to be. I didn’t want to have to deal with it, and I took it out on you again.
“I’m sorry. And thank you. For always being there for me to pick up the pieces. I never deserved that sort of kindness.”
He watched you nervously, waiting for a response. You reached for the rubber band around your wrist and snapped it. It didn’t hurt, but it helped to distract you. He glanced down at your hand, recognising another of your old habits.
“Stop doing that,” he chided, his eyes watering. At that moment, he sounded just like he used to when you were younger. You remembered him saying those exact words in that exact tone. Of all the things he had said, that was what made you want to cry.
“I missed you so much,” you finally admitted after a long pause, inhaling shakily. “I felt like I ruined our friendship. I never stopped wondering if I made the right decision, I- I thought I’d lost you forever.”
He wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tight. His hugs were just comforting as they had been when you were growing up. He was much stronger than you remembered, although perhaps you should have expected that. He’d changed his cologne since.
“You have nothing to feel guilty about,” he told you, stroking your hair gently. When you separated his eyes were shining with tears. He laughed, sniffling, holding your face in his hands.
“Can we be friends again?” you whispered.
“I’d like that,” he said, letting you go and hesitating for a few seconds before he next spoke. “Do you know what motivated me to change when I was in military school?”
“What?” You hugged him one last time before unconsciously reaching for your rubber band. Catching this, he raised an eyebrow and glanced pointedly at your wrist. You stopped, feeling scolded.
“The last time we talked back in high school, you thought I was going to hit you,” he began carefully. He took a deep breath, suddenly unable to look you in the eye now. “Seeing how scared you were, the fear on your face, I- I never wanted to make anyone feel like that again. Especially not you. I’m sorry.”
He’d started crying. He hardly ever cried when you were kids. You wiped away his tears with your shirt sleeve.
“Don’t be a stranger, okay?” he begged, clutching onto you with a vice grip. Between you and him he had always been the calm one, but now he was shaking and you could feel it.
You squeezed his hand. “I won’t.”
——————————
Something in you was repaired that day.
You were telling the truth when you said you had never stopped feeling guilty about what you did. Not being able to speak to Sunghoon after, not even knowing where he was or what he was doing, it had wrecked you.
For years you’d lived with the thought that the only person you’d ever trusted had always secretly resented you. Maybe everyone did — maybe you were a pest, a hypocrite, a loser. It made it hard for you to form new connections. Heeseung had chipped away at your defences for months before you felt safe enough to call him your friend.
But now you were sitting on the floor of Sunghoon’s living room, sharing a vodka Sprite with Heeseung while you watched the others play Mario Kart, and everything was fine.
You hadn’t spent too much time with Sunghoon alone, although the five of you were constantly together. Jake had even joked about blocking off the fifth floor from the other scholars and just leaving both of your front doors open to form one big apartment for the five of you. Functionally, it wouldn’t be that different from how you were already living.
“I’m hungry,” Heeseung piped up, pouting and nudging you. “Go buy me some chips?”
“Why can’t you go?” you asked.
“My head hurts,” he whined. If he was dehydrated, the smallest drop of alcohol could give him splitting headaches. “Don’t kick a man while he’s down.”
Before you could retort, Sunghoon handed him his Switch controller. “Hee, you play. I’ll go with them,” he offered.
“Thanks, man. Use my rewards card,” Heeseung said, handing you his wallet instead of just taking the rewards card out and passing that to you.
You used to joke that you could so easily max out all of his credit cards if you wanted to, but he swiftly pointed out that you also had a habit of giving him your entire wallet when he asked to borrow money or your transport card.
“I still can’t believe we've been in this city for just over a month and you already have six rewards cards,” you laughed, putting on your shoes.
As you and Sunghoon were walking out the door, Heeseung was still shouting, “Think of the points, dude! The points!”
The convenience store was just across the road from your dorm building, which was, as its name suggested, pretty convenient. Not as good for your heart health and nutrition, but whatever. It was drizzling slightly, but not enough for either of you to have bothered with an umbrella.
“Heeseung is so obsessed with collecting rewards points,” you joked, fiddling with his rewards card.
Sunghoon chuckled. “Is he always like that?”
You nodded. “Since I met him. You like him, though, right?”
“Yeah, I do. He’s fun,” he said. He wasn’t lying; he did actually like Heeseung. But he would be lying if he said your closeness to him didn’t bother him at all. Sunghoon didn’t want to think too much about the possible implications of his jealousy.
“I’m glad. I really like Jay and Jake, too,” you told him, pushing open the convenience store door. “I’ll go get Deungie’s chips, because he likes some weird obscure flavours.”
“I’ll get the normal stuff for everyone else,” Sunghoon said, asking, “the usual for you, yeah?”
You thought of the convenience store in your hometown, of Madam Choi, of your regular weekend sleepovers back in school. Rehearsed and practised, you two were in and out of the store in under two minutes. What did that say about either of you, that you were so skilled at buying snacks that you worked together like a well-oiled machine?
The drizzle was marginally heavier when you left. It was a short walk, but Sunghoon took off his white baseball cap and fixed it atop your head anyway.
“Thanks, Hoon,” you smiled. You never bothered fighting him when he did things like that for you; you hadn’t as a kid and you still didn’t now. He wouldn’t do it unless he wanted to, and he wasn’t the type to accept your refusals of help.
But it felt different years later, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked, amused.
You quickly averted your gaze, not having noticed you’d been looking at him. “It’s just weird to have you back,” you said.
You’d had this conversation with him at least a dozen times over the last month. It still hadn’t quite sunk in yet that he was back in your life and you were back in his. That you hadn’t destroyed the life of your best friend by being a hypocrite.
Since then, you’d spent a lot of time thinking about the person you used to be: full of self-loathing and insecurity and fear that you would eventually ruin every relationship you had. Heeseung had been slightly hurt that you hadn’t told him about Sunghoon when it all happened. You admitted to him that you were scared he would think of you as a bad person.
Sunghoon smiled. “Is it a good weird or a bad weird?”
“It’s a good weird. I missed this,” you answered, holding up the bag of snacks in your hand. As was your usual routine, you carried the snacks and he carried the drinks, having immediately fallen into step.
He playfully bumped into you as you walked, though not nearly hard enough to knock you off balance. “I missed you,” he said, before reaching for his keys.
The conversation was the same, but the butterflies in your stomach were definitely a new development.
——————————
Since you reconnected, Sunghoon hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you.
“Dude, are you jealous of Heeseung?” Jay asked him one night, out of the blue, after you and Heeseung left their apartment to head back to your own. Well, it wasn’t entirely out of the blue; even he couldn’t deny that.
“Can’t I be jealous of my ex-best friend’s new best friend?” Sunghoon replied, already defensive.
“That’s not why you’re jealous, though, is it?” Jay pressed. “You’re posturing around him and you can’t stop looking at Y/N.”
“Shut up.” He was right, and deep down Sunghoon knew it.
He was never going to be your best friend again, and he wasn’t trying to be. Neither of you were the same people you had been three years ago, and you were different enough that if you met now, you probably wouldn’t have been close. You both had new friends, people who suited your current selves better.
He wanted to be something else.
“You need to tone down the staring, man. It’s getting a little too obvious,” Jake said. “Even Heeseung mentioned it to me the other day.”
Sunghoon swore under his breath. “He did?” Heeseung, of all people, noticing — had he mentioned it to you?
“For what it’s worth, I’m pretty sure they’re just friends,” Jay added, trying to be comforting.
Sunghoon sighed and finished his drink. It was a gin and tonic which he’d made so strong that it was basically straight gin with a drizzle of tonic water. He winced.
“I know, but they do everything together,” he mumbled, just barely self-aware enough to realise he was whining. “That used to be me.”
“They’re happy, you’re happy, and you guys are friends again. Isn't that what you wanted? Why focus on the past when you could be focusing on right now?” Jake asked.
“Because they trusted me for sixteen years and I basically told them I’d secretly hated them the whole time,” Sunghoon said, his voice rising. “I ruined them, and I’ll never forgive myself for that.”
Jay scowled and crossed his arms, kicking Sunghoon’s foot with his own. “You didn’t ruin anyone. They’re fine. You’re not the only thing that’s ever happened to them, and if you keep thinking like that you’ll never fully repair your relationship.”
Sunghoon stared at his empty glass. He needed another drink.
——————————
“It’s been two months since we moved here,” Heeseung told you randomly one day. You were at a ramen bar for dinner with him and Sunghoon to celebrate getting through the first half of the semester. Also, you were all out of food at home and neither of you were in the mood to cook.
“Has it?” You checked the date on your phone. Sure enough, he was right. You hadn’t even realised.
“It doesn’t feel like it,” Sunghoon said. You’d started looking at Sunghoon differently.
Firstly, he looked different. He towered over his former self, his shoulders were much wider than you recalled, and he’d lost some fat on his face, making his cheeks and jaw more angular. He wore his black hair longer than he used to and he didn’t have nearly as many dark colours in his wardrobe.
He’d always been good-looking, but you had never really recognised that before. Now, though, it was always on your mind. Now, when he smiled at you or fixed your hair after he put his cap on your head or leaned over you to plug in his laptop in lecture theatres, you got nervous.
His gestures had always made you feel warm and comfortable, but now they were also starting to make you feel shy. You’d never been particularly touchy with him even as kids — you shared beds with a wall of pillows in between you two — but now you couldn’t even bear the thought of holding onto his sleeve in a crowd so you wouldn’t get separated.
“Oi.” Heeseung kicked you hard under the table and pointed at your nearly empty bowl. “Earth to Y/N. Are you done?”
They were both staring at you. How long had you been zoning out?
“What? Yeah, I’m done. Did you say something?” you asked.
Heeseung laughed and pressed his index finger to the top of your head, pretending to push you down like a button, which he always did when he was making fun of you. He definitely knew what you’d been lost in thought about (do you know how much Sunghoon stares at you nowadays? I think he hates me).
“Heeseung said he’s meeting Jay and Jake at the studio,” Sunghoon filled you in, much more helpful. “So we can go home, or if you want we can walk around some more.” He sounded expectant, like he was hoping you’d agree to the latter. You did.
——————————
Once you saw Heeseung off at the bus stop, Sunghoon brought you to a run-down building four streets away from the ramen bar. In the hip, fashionable district of the city, amidst the trendy shops and cafés, the mould and peeling paint and water damage of the building made it stick out like a blister. 
You looked at the building, and then at him, and then back at the building. “Is this an assassination attempt?” you asked.
“Trust me,” he said, pushing the rusty steel door open with his foot.
“That’s not an answer. And your refusal to touch the door with your hands doesn’t exactly inspire trust,” you laughed, but you followed him with no hesitation.
It felt almost like when you used to go exploring the outskirts of your hometown by yourselves, far too late at night for kids your age. But this time, you didn’t have any snacks with you, nor games to keep yourselves occupied.
Sunghoon made a face at you and ushered you inside. “Shut up. I’m the city native here.”
“You’ve only been here a year longer than me,” you pointed out, looking around. The building wasn’t so much a building as it was a stairwell. Stuffy, dark, and dingy, it made you feel suffocated. “I’m going to die here,” you declared, sighing in resignation.
He rolled his eyes. “Oh my god. It’s not even that bad.”
As if on cue, the door slammed shut behind you, the sound echoing ominously in the tight space. What little light that had been coming in from the street lamps outside disappeared, except for a sliver of amber forcing its way through a gap in the door frame. He cursed under his breath.
“Hoon,” you called, desperately trying to spot him in the darkness, the rising panic clear in your words. “I swear, if I die tonight I’ll never stop haunting you.”
His reply came immediately, calm and measured, reassuring. “I’m right here. Give me your hand.”
You turned around at the sound of his voice and reached out blindly in front of you, hitting his shoulder. He found your hand and took it in his, the feeling of his palm against yours somehow soothing and stressful at the same time.
“You’re still scared of the dark?” he asked, joking, trying to ease your fear.
He used to scold you all the time for always sleeping with your light on, but no matter how many articles he sent you about why sleeping in the dark was important for healthy melatonin production, you never listened. Whenever he slept over in your room, he used an eye mask.
“Shut up, please.” Your voice was quiet and unconvincing; actually, you wanted nothing more than for him to keep talking. You couldn’t see anything, and all you had to ground you was his voice and his hand in yours. 
He squeezed your hand, softening his tone. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise it would be this dark. It’s worth it, I promise.”
He led you up three flights of stairs by the hand and walked face first into what you assumed to be a locked door. “Ow. Motherfucker.”
You cackled at that.
The room (if you could call it that, since it was barely bigger than a cupboard) was lit with a single filament light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Aside from a couple of cardboard boxes, some pillows, and a bean bag, it was empty.
“That’s your old bean bag. The one you had in your room,” you said, recognising the green fabric immediately. You tensed when he brushed past you to shut the door to the room (supply cupboard?), but you tried your best to ignore it.
“Yeah, I brought it with me. I get homesick sometimes, so it helps,” he told you, sitting down on the small pile of pillows. You took the bean bag.
“It smells worse than I remembered,” you said, patting it. He pushed you in retaliation, laughing at you when you lost your balance.
“I have snacks and drinks in this box, and comics and books in that one,” he explained. “I wanted to get a mini-fridge in here but there isn’t an outlet.”
This was exactly how you used to spend your weekends when you didn’t have to study: snacks, drinks, and reading. Except now he handed you a can of hard seltzer instead of his yoghurt drinks of yore. 
“Is this legal? Does the building owner know you’re here?” you asked, somewhat sceptical. But you opened the can anyway and took a sip. It was warm, but not unpleasant.
“Of course. I’m a law abiding citizen.”
“You just jaywalked about ten minutes ago.”
“I’m generally a law abiding citizen.” He dug around in the box some more and produced a can of sangria (you despised sangria), gesturing to the room. “What do you think? Pretty cool, right?”
“Very,” you nodded, making yourself comfortable in the bean bag. You felt like you were in high school again, although you didn’t recall your spine hurting nearly as much then. Perhaps you were getting old. You needed proper back support now.
He kicked off his shoes. “Fuck off,” he laughed.
“I wasn’t being sarcastic!” you yelled, before you noticed- “My red shrimp socks!”
“Oh, right.” He glanced down at his feet and started casually taking the socks off. “Do you want them back?”
You gagged. “Not right now, dumbo!”
He used to be able to detect your sarcasm perfectly, always reading your tone with no margin of error, although it was probably unfair to expect him to still be able to after so many years.
“Come home with me,” Sunghoon said suddenly, still looking at his (your) socks. You looked at him, puzzled. “After the semester ends. We should go visit our families,” he added.
You thought for a minute and agreed. “I think my dad misses you.”
“My parents miss you too.” He leant back against the wall behind him, closed his eyes, and rested his head on your shoulder, declaring, “I’m tired.”
The room was so dark and small and quiet. His black hair tickled your neck, even though you could tell he was trying not to move around too much. You prayed he couldn’t hear how fast your heart rate had become. He’d always been a sleepy drinker, and you’d all been drinking pretty liberally during dinner earlier.
You tried to relax, as much as you could with his body pressed against yours, and closed your eyes too. So you didn’t see him reach for your hand until you felt his touch directly. He took your hand and pulled it into his lap, interlocking his fingers with yours and fiddling with your silver bracelet. You froze, your breathing shallow and your muscles tense.
“This is from that old charity shop behind the fruit store,” he mumbled, running the pad of his thumb over your knuckles. You could feel the vibrations of his throat against your shoulder as he spoke. “I bought it for you.”
“Hoon,” you said softly, your eyes now wide open. He hummed in response, still playing with your hand. “What are you doing?”
His reply was a non-answer. “I miss home.”
Tentatively, you lifted your hand to his head, stroking his hair in what you hoped would be a comforting gesture. He stayed quiet. His closeness was simultaneously the most nerve-wracking and most comforting thing. In all your life, you couldn’t ever recall sitting like this with him.
“Are you okay? Do you want to talk?” you asked, pulling your hand away, worried now.
He grabbed it and returned it to his hair, moving even closer to you. “That feels nice,” he sighed. His breath was warm against your neck, while the tip of his nose was cold. It made you shiver. “I’m fine. I just haven’t been home in a while.”
You felt terrible for never really having thought about what his two years in military school, being ripped away from his family at such short notice, must’ve been like. As far as you were aware he didn’t get to visit his family until he graduated, and you only knew that because you spent your own high school graduation period locked up in your house to avoid running into him.
Against your best efforts, the guilt came rushing back. You closed your eyes again and continued playing with Sunghoon’s hair, just how he liked it.
——————————
Two weeks later, you still didn’t know what to make of that night. You told Heeseung everything and asked him if you were going insane.
“Do you like him?” Heeseung asked as you two got ready to leave the house. You were going out to get drinks with the others.
“I don’t know,” you groaned, yanking the windows shut much harder than you had intended. He jumped at the sound, and you winced. “Sorry. I hate this, man.”
“Do you want my opinion?” he asked.
“It depends on what it is.”
He snorted. “I think you do like him and you don’t want to admit it. Why is that?”
You rushed to put on your shoes as he waited for you. “I just- what if this fucks up our friendship a second time? There’s too much history between us, right?”
“Well, your heart doesn’t seem to think so,” he said, opening the front door. The neighbouring front door opened too, at the exact same time, and out stepped Sunghoon. He broke into a wide smile the second he saw you.
Heeseung lowered his head and said quietly, “Clearly, he doesn’t think so, either.”
——————————
You were far too nervous to drink even after the forty minute journey to the bar. Heeseung’s words hadn’t left your head for even a second, and he could definitely tell from the way he kept grinning at you.
“Are you sure you don’t want any?” Heeseung asked for the third time, offering you his glass. You had the same taste in drinks, so you usually shared.
“I don’t feel like drinking tonight,” you said, again for the third time.
“Guess who else isn’t drinking tonight,” he teased, way too loud, nodding to Sunghoon and his glass of water. That didn’t even make sense.
“Shut up,” you hissed. Heeseung giggled, already tipsy, and leaned on you. Sunghoon caught your eye from across the table and smiled. If he’d heard what the other man said, he showed no indication of it. You smiled back.
Jake returned to the table, tapping Heeseung on the shoulder.
“I can’t do it anymore. It’s your turn,” Jake sighed, exasperated, collapsing into his seat. He’d been on wingman duty for Jay, and (apparently, because you’d never been unlucky enough to witness it yourself) Jay was a terrible flirt.
Heeseung picked up his glass, downed what was left in it in one gulp, and set it back down on the table with a loud thump. “Alright, here I go,” he declared. You watched him carefully as he walked over to the bar, but he didn’t seem too drunk yet. He’d be fine.
At the booth behind where Jay was, however, you saw someone else who made your blood run cold.
“Hoon, don’t turn around, but Jeongmin is here,” you began. Jeongmin was staring intensely at you. Sunghoon sat up straight in alarm. Maybe you looked familiar to him and he was trying to place you. 
Jake, ever the quick thinker, said, “You guys should leave. I’ll stay and let Jay and Hee know what happened.” Sunghoon was still frozen.
“Thanks, Jake. Pass these to Heeseung for me.” You fished your keys (Heeseung hadn’t brought his own) out of your pocket to toss them to Jake, grabbed Sunghoon by the arm, and dragged him out of the bar.
“Aren’t you sober? Why don’t your legs work?” you grunted, trying to shake him to attention and pull him down the street at the same time. A passing car revving its engine snapped him out of it, whatever it was.
“Fuck, yeah. Sorry,” Sunghoon mumbled. Before you could even ask him if he was okay, what you’d been trying so hard to avoid happened.
“Park Sunghoon.”
You could pick out Jeongmin’s voice anywhere. It was low, rough, and sharp. He somehow looked identical to how he looked back in high school, if only slightly thinner and more tired.
“You. You called the cops on us that night,” Jeongmin hissed. jabbing an accusatory finger at Sunghoon.
“I didn’t,” Sunghoon stated calmly, but you could tell he was on edge. He subtly pushed you behind him.
“Yeah, right. On the one night we get busted the new kid just happens to not show up,” Jeongmin scoffed, taking a step towards you. 
Sunghoon held up his hands. “Look, man, I don’t want to fight. I didn’t call the cops on you.”
Jeongmin squared his shoulders and punched him hard in the jaw without warning. The silver ring he was wearing drew a deep red gash across Sunghoon’s cheek.
As if on auto-pilot, like it was second nature to him, Sunghoon immediately returned the blow with a punch of his own before you even had the time to think. You gasped, Jeongmin’s nose cracked, and Sunghoon took advantage of the distraction to kick him hard in the knee, knocking him to the ground.
Then he grabbed your hand and ran.
——————————
The walk back to the dorm was silent. Sunghoon’s lips were pressed tightly together, his eyebrows were furrowed, and his fists were clenched like he was trying not to cry. You remembered the days when you, not him, were usually the one who needed comforting.
It reassured you to some degree, though, that he wouldn’t hide his sadness from you like he used to. You reached for his hand the second you were out of Jeongmin’s line of sight and threaded your fingers between his. His knuckles were bruised.
Wordlessly, he handed you his keys and you unlocked his front door.
“Do you have a first aid kit?” you asked.
“Under the kitchen sink,” he said flatly, sitting down on the sofa.
You pulled it out from the back corner of the kitchen cabinet with great difficulty, joined him on the sofa, and started cleaning the cut on his jaw. He winced when the alcohol swab made contact with his skin.
“Sorry. I’m almost done,” you promised, tossing the swab aside and covering the cut up. It took all of twenty seconds. “Do you want to talk?”
Sunghoon closed his eyes and sighed, dropping his head. “I shouldn’t have hit him. I thought I was past that behaviour. I don’t-”
He stopped talking. You put your hand over his and waited. His bottom lip started to quiver as he held back tears.
“I don’t want to be that person again,” he sobbed, and the sound broke your heart.
Through the school grapevine you heard about fights with kids of neighbouring schools, breaking and entering, the like. But even now, so many years later, you didn’t fully know what he did with Jeongmin and his gang. You never asked, and he never volunteered that information.
He was crying. “I let my parents down. Every time I see them I just remember how angry they were at me. I’m a terrible son. Nothing I do will ever be able to erase that I humiliated them, I failed them, I brought shame to the whole family, I-”
You pulled him into a hug, feeling how his body trembled as he fought to speak.
“You’re not a terrible son, Hoon,” you whispered, as he sobbed into your hair.
He shook his head and pushed you away. “I shouldn’t have hit him. I think I broke his nose,” he repeated, almost frantic in his insistence. It wasn’t a state you’d seen him in before.
“But he hit you first,” you noted.
Finally, at your childish response, he cracked a small smile. “Weren’t you always the one who said violence was never the answer?” he laughed. His eyes were still glistening with tears, but at least he’d calmed down.
“Usually it isn’t, but I don’t subscribe to universal codes of human conduct anymore,” you told him. “Do you?”
He paused for a bit, staring at you, unable to find the words to reply. You smiled, swiped the tears on his cheeks away with a gentle hand, and got up to put away the first aid kit. It was late, and you were both tired.
“I love you,” Sunghoon said over his shoulder, his voice still thick with emotion. He said that often nowadays, although it wasn’t something he did previously. Neither of you ever felt the need to declare that when you were younger; it was a given.
“I love you too, Hoon,” you replied, still busy trying to make room in the cluttered space under his kitchen sink for the kit.
All the traces of his crying vanished when he next spoke. “No, I’m in love with you.”
You dropped the package of sponges in your hands. Your mind went blank.
There was something about the phrase ‘in love’ that you had never really understood. It implied love was all consuming, like a physical swallowing whole of your being. You felt love for others, but you’d never felt it so much that you were in the state of love.
Until you heard it from him. And then you realised you were already there.
“Say something. Please,” he begged, panicked by your silence.
“Hoon-”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” he mumbled, cutting you off, leaning back against the sofa with a hand over his eyes.
Sunghoon was not an interrupter. In all the years you’d known him, the only time he’d ever interrupted you was during your big final fight in your bedroom, when you’d snitched on him.
You left the first aid kit on the floor and sat down next to him. He didn’t move. You tapped the back of his hand to get him to look at you. Reluctantly, he did, but only through the gaps between his fingers.
“I’m in love with you too,” you admitted.
He was speechless at hearing his words echoed back to him, frozen for a good ten seconds before his gaze flickered down to your lips.
“Can I?” he asked, his voice quiet.
You nodded, and he kissed you. He placed one hand on the back of your neck to pull you closer while his other hand, bruised knuckles and all, grabbed one of your own. He laced your fingers together tightly, like he never wanted to let you go.
Your free hand ghosted over the line of his jaw, past the bandage you’d just put on his face and down his neck to his chest, warm and solid. He shivered under your touch.
“I love you, Hoon,” you breathed when you separated.
He gave you one last quick kiss on the tip of your nose. “I’ll never get tired of hearing that,” he whispered giddily, brushing his thumb across your bottom lip.
For the first few weeks after you reconnected, both of you had tried to return to what you once were. But it quickly became clear that that was never going to happen. Even after you had paved over the road, underneath the new asphalt the old potholes were still there, and nothing you did would ever fully correct them.
You had to look forward. Sunghoon was never going to be your best friend again, not like before. You would never get back your old relationship, full of childlike innocence and void of conflict. But that was okay. You were here, and he was here, and that was enough.
“Then I’ll keep saying it. I love you, I love you, I love you,” you repeated, leaning into his side and laying your head on his shoulder.
“I love you too. So much,” he said, putting his arm around you and letting you tuck your head into the crook of his neck. “You have no idea.”
He was tired of running and hiding from who he used to be, and going on the defensive and lashing out every time he was confronted with his past. He was done torturing his sixteen-year-old self.
You and him had something new. It wasn’t better, it wasn’t more. It was just different. You had your whole lives in front of you — an endless stretch of even, untouched, fresh road — waiting for you, and it would be stupid to focus on what lay behind you. You still had so much left to explore together.
——————————
thanks for reading <3
-minastras
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