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ghost-proofbaby · 11 months

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who could stay? (you could stay.) (eddie munson x reader)

summary: you're convinced that being loved comes with a cost. he finds a way to prove you wrong. (wc: 9.7k+)

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Keep going, keep going, keep going.

Agree to run that errand for someone. Offer a shoulder to cry on for that person. Fix that problem for this friend. Keep going, keep offering, keep becoming indispensable.

You couldn’t pinpoint the exact age you’d figured out the formula. You can never know for sure if the day was sunny or if it were rainy, if it were a calm December morning or a buzzing July night, but those details aren’t very important. The only important detail is that you had finally cracked the code at some point – you had finally figured out the solution to feeling unlovable. And that was that, truthfully, there wasn’t a solution. Once you were destined to feel this way, to feel so sour at your core, there is no easy way to rid yourself of that rotten pit. It would always be there – always churning, always burning, always yearning. Yearning to be loved, yearning to feel those waves of warmth cascading over your brain and down your spine, the ones others had always described to you but you’d just never… experienced. Never became familiar with.

It felt like everyone was playing an over-elaborate prank on you. They’d all conspired against you, invented a false feeling in which someone claims to feel loved, only to sit back and watch as you fumbled to find it. They’d laughed as you dug through a graveyard of relationships, caked your fingernails with dirt as you sobbed and would continue to claw deeper, trying to find just one set of bones that might hold that warmth for you.

The only solution to that detrimental feeling of being unlovable, was to feel needed.

You needed to feel so necessary, so essential, to everyone around you at all times. It never mattered how much of you it took. You’d give away every piece of yourself a million times over just to feel wanted at some capacity, even if that capacity were one you’d forced upon the other person. You didn’t care if you’d built the glass cages of theirs – you just cared that they kept you around to wipe away any smudges that appeared.

Being wanted wasn’t quite the same as being loved. And if you thought about that for too long or too often, you might just break irrevocably.

“I just don’t understand him,” Nancy sighs from the head of your bed, reclining against a wall of pillows you’d lined your headboard with. Two of which were body pillows. Long tubes of fluff to try and fill lonely spaces, you suppose, “Why didn’t he just tell me he didn’t want to go to the same college? Why… Why do I feel like I am forcing him to be with me?”

Because you are. Just like I force you all to need me.

“I don’t know, Nance.”

That bland, bitter, half-thought out answer lingers on your tongue, almost burns your throat with the whisper of say more, say something useful, say something comforting. It’s the whisper of those four words not being enough. It’s the whisper of that threat that those four words could be the beginning of the end, the thing that makes Nancy realize she doesn’t need you.

After all, what use is a friend that can’t give good advice, or be supportive during relationship rants?

You open your mouth to add on something sweeter, something to coat the conversation like honey and smooth out the lines forming on Nancy’s forehead, but she beats you to it, “I’m sorry, I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

Yes. “It’s fine,” at least that wasn’t a lie – you’d dug this specific grave, had rooted down tooth and nail only to find another empty coffin of a friendship curtained with want instead of love. You’d all but asked for this, “What he did really was shitty. It’s not fair to you.”

The words are almost robotic, telling Nancy Wheeler what she wants to hear rather than what she needs to hear. You don’t always do that, you do make a point of investing in the truth from time to time to truly secure your position as someone who is genuinely needed in her life, but the headache nagging at your temples tells you it’s not worth the fight tonight. You’re tired, you’re agitated, and you really just want to get Nancy to the point of contentment in her rambling so that you can send her on her way.

God, you’re an awful friend.

It turns you quiet, a ricocheting thought that bruises your inner skull the rest of the time Nancy sits on your bed. The guilt eats you alive for that moment of irritation the rest of the night. Even after Nancy goes home, even after you’ve brushed your teeth and you’ve tucked yourself into bed. The guilt gnaws on the edges of that emptiness inside of you, that ever-present black hole that already existed, and says this is why you cannot be loved.

Maybe the pity party for feeling like a bad friend is what makes you a bad friend.

And maybe if you were a better friend, you would be loved instead of wanted for once.

It’s all part of a cycle, never-ending and treacherous. It’s always been this way. You make promises to your friends and rip yourself to shreds before remolding yourself into whatever they need; giving rides to the younger kids within your circle to the pool all summer which evolved into taking turns with Steve as to who would pick them all up after their D&D club ran late every Friday night, always lending a listening ear to Nancy once Johnathan moved away and she’d had to witness her relationship and her love vanishing in real time, always being the one person who will listen to Robin ramble for hours about her sudden interests. None of it was born of ill-intent, but when you’d go home lonesome at the end of the night, you could see it all for what it was.

You were trying to fill a void. A hollow rot, a black hole. And it was only working half the time.

Half the time, until he came along.

And make no mistake, his arrival was as bloody as anyone who had previously entered your life. For a while there, you believed his headstone was at the end of the line already, sanctioned away in this graveyard of the ability to be loved. He came crashing into your life on a random Friday night, and you had sworn you could already see the end as it began, but you had been wrong.

“So, you’re the infamous babysitter.”

His voice caught you off guard. You’d been sitting in your car with your windows down, enjoying the reprieve of a cooling autumn evening as you waited for the boys to finish up with their D&D club. With your head buried in the latest sci-fi novel that Dustin had recommended and would no doubt be grilling you on once he got in the car, you hadn’t even heard the club exit the school.

“Nope,” you fought a smile as you glanced up from the pages to see an older guy standing there, closer to yours and Steve’s age than the kids. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that this was the famous Eddie all the boys would ramble on about for hours on end, “Harrington’s the babysitter. I’m just the taxi driver.”

There was something particularly pretty in the way he threw his head back with laughter at your words. Curls that messily fell just beyond his shoulders, full lips disappearing as his teeth peeked through and shined beneath the parking lot’s lamp posts. His denim vest looked purposefully distressed with a mirage of patches and pins, and he was wearing a leather jacket beneath it, even if it wasn’t quite cold enough for it yet outside. He was cute – and watching him laugh because of you sparked something irreversible inside of you.

“C’mon now,” he sighed as his cackles quieted, “Give yourself more credit than that. At least call yourself something fancy, like ‘chauffeur’.”

“Ah, but ‘taxi driver’ insinuates that I charge them,” you don’t miss a beat, and your quick wit has him chuckling again.

You caught sight of his eyes, corners creased with joy – brown. They were deep, russet, tantalizing brown. Almost indiscernible from his pupil in the dark.

“I’m Eddie, by the way.”

You took his hand that he shoved through your open window with ease, and felt an immediate shiver run down your spine. Not quite from the cold, but not quite warm. You saw the first flash of his grave, and you knew you’d be digging your greedy hands into it soon enough.

As you gave him your name in return, you knew you wouldn’t be leaving well enough alone.

You had been half right that night. You wouldn’t be leaving well enough alone, you would be seeking out the impossible from Eddie – but so would he.

It quickly became apparent that Eddie was a pest. Someone who weaseled his way into the lives of others, who made his presence felt and never forgotten.

You’d started with the same slow dance as you did with every new person, a hesitant dipping of your toes into their waters, unsure if your presence in their life would only cause more trouble than you’re worth, when you quickly discovered that nothing could ever be hesitant or slow with Eddie Munson. He’s the one constantly reaching out to you. Driving the kids home now takes double the time it used to, long conversations being had with him that has the kids dragging you away, practically begging to just be taken home. The day he’d asked for your number, you couldn’t tell which one of you burned brighter red. And the moment he had your number in his clutches? Forget about it. You never heard the end of Eddie Munson, and you never really wanted to.

Unlike your friends you already had and loved deeply, Eddie was observant.

It’s within the first month of knowing you that he had picked up on your insecurities. Maybe he hadn’t directly seen that gaping hole in your chest yet, but he noticed your habit of running yourself dry to see others thrive.

The need to be needed. He picked up on it quickly.

“What about Sunday?” Eddie’s voice traveled over the line as you laid on your stomach, stretched out across your bed for a few moments of rest before you had to get up and take the cookies you’d baked for Steve and Robin into Family Video, just like you had promised, “I’m free then if I finish all my fuckin’ homework on Saturday night.”

Surprisingly, that phone call with Eddie hadn’t been something expected or planned. It had been impulsive; in a rare moment of peace, you found yourself craving to hear his voice. Somehow, the two of you had ended up trying to figure out a free day to properly hang out. Eddie wanted to go to Benny’s for milkshakes, and you wouldn’t turn down the free fries he also promised.

“I can’t,” you paused just to hear his predictably dramatic sigh, grinning as you continued to explain, “I’m taking Max to the skatepark that day.”

“And it’s going to take all day?”

“It could!”

“There’s absolutely no way.”

“You clearly haven’t seen that girl skate.”

The conversation continued, light-hearted enough with plentiful jokes made. Something about talking with Eddie made your heart lighter, the usual unbearable and contradictory weight of emptiness no longer on your mind as you listened to him ramble about something that had happened in one of his classes – a teacher tried to embarrass him when he caught Eddie doodling for a D&D campaign by asking him a question, not expecting him to know the answer. Eddie had, of course, leaving the teacher baffled with a smirk.

It’s all about my charm, sweetheart, he responded when you asked how he hadn’t earned a detention from that.

Only towards the end of the call, when the conversation finally lulled and the two of you found yourselves settled into a comfortable silence, did Eddie finally circle back to the beginning of your conversation.

“You know,” he started, “When I first met you, I never took you to be someone so…”

“Amazing? Wonderful? Funny?” you jokingly attempted to finish his sentence.

“Busy.”

Oh. You hadn’t expected that one.

“Busy?” you repeated back to him, “I’m not that busy.”

Your mind immediately started racing with thoughts of what he had meant. Was he feeling neglected? Maybe you should have canceled on Max on Sunday, agreed to Benny’s with him instead. No, you couldn’t bear Max’s disappointment. Maybe you could tell Max you had a time constraint, even though you knew she hated those when it came to her skating days. Was there any other plans you could abandon? Anyone else you could bear to let down for the sake of not leaving Eddie high and dry? No, no – all your other weekend plans involved going to the movies with Robin, helping Steve look into colleges finally, taking the boys to the Starcourt mall to shop for supplies to make figurines for their newest campaign. The room was suddenly getting smaller, your chest constricting, your head spinning. You couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing any of those people, no, but what about Eddie? Maybe he was right in feeling neglected, maybe you deserved whatever guilt was to come from whatever his next words would be. He was your friend, you were supposed to make time for h-

“Sweetheart,” he scoffed over the line, and you swore you heart stopped right then and there, “You’re the highest thing in demand since Cabbage Patch Kids last Christmas – and trust me, I should know how in demand those fuckers were. I worked seasonally at the mall, remember?”

Your breath caught. He was feeling neglected. You weakly began your apology as tears were already filling your eyes, that panic turning over itself in your gut, “I’m-”

“And it’s not a bad thing, don’t get me wrong,” It’s clear your voice had been too soft, too weak, for him to hear you, “Just means I’ve gotta fight harder to be worth your time, am I right?”

You had to clear your throat, but it did nothing to subsidize that anxiety that rattled your bones. It’s blatantly evident as your voice shook with a second attempt at an apology, “I’m sorry, Eddie. I didn’t mean- I can… I’ll… Just tell me when for Benny’s. I can make it work, I swear-”

“Woah, woah, woah.”

He had to have heard the tears that had escaped down your cheeks. The shake of your breath as you’d stuttered over your words, grasping for a solution.

“You don’t need to apologize for that,” his voice was soothing and soft, the most gentle it had been the entire night. You pinched your eyes shut and just tried to imagine those stupid, big doe eyes, those ungodly messy curls (you’d started to tease him about if he ever even brushed or combed them). The panic remained, but Eddie’s voice started to give it a run for its money, “I was just playing around. You know that, right?” he paused to give you room to answer, but your throat was still tightly squeezed by overwhelming emotion, overwhelming fear of having scorned Eddie, “You could only have enough time in your schedule to see me once a year, and I’d still be your friend. We could only have these random phone calls, even if they were never longer than a minute, and you’d still be worth it. You know that, right?” Another pause, another wave of silence from your end, “Sweetheart, you don’t owe me your time. And I don’t need monopoly over it for us to be okay.”

Each word made the panic settle. You weren’t sure how he did it. You weren’t sure how mortified you should be that he had only been in your life for a month at most, and had just overheard you at your most vulnerable.

All you were sure of was that you believed him.

“Okay,” you croaked, finally feeling that ring of fear loosen, vocal chords finally functioning once more.

“Okay,” Eddie repeated back in that same gentle, soothing, soft tone.

You weren’t disappointing him. You weren’t making him feel neglected. He still found use for you, he still wanted you around – he still needed your friendship. That had to be enough.

It was quiet over the line for a few moments.

It has to be enough, you reminded yourself.

“Say,” you finally said, voice back to normal strength and the tears having dried themselves up for the most part. Your heart had almost returned to normal rhythm, “How does Benny’s sound tonight?”

“Tonight?” he chimed back, sounding as excited as a little kid the morning of a cherished holiday, something like Christmas.

A shiver ran down your spine. It’s not from the cold, and you tell yourself it’s not quite warmth – it can’t be warmth.

“Tonight,” you confirmed, “With a detour by Family Video, if you don’t mind. I’ve got a special delivery of cookies to fulfill.”

“What kind?”

“Excuse me?”

You were grinning - God, you were a pathetic fool, grinning and clutching onto that phone like a lifeline. Like if you let go of it, you’d lose his voice, and if you lost his voice, that would be the end of the world.

“What kind of cookies?”

“Chocolate chip.”

He hummed, not answering right away as if he were deliberating this information. When he finally spoke again, another shiver wrapped around your spine, spinning down, down down. Waves of what you almost believed were warmth. “Okay. I suppose I can be your taxi driver, for a price.”

“What’s your price?”

“One cookie.”

“Deal.”

It had to be enough, because you were still clutching that telephone tightly to your cheek, long after the phone call ended with Eddie’s promise of being at your house soon enough. It had to be enough, because after that night, it became clear; the world would not end with the loss of just Eddie’s voice from your life, but the loss of Eddie, period. It was the first night of many in which you played a very, very dangerous game.

Even with Nancy gone, you felt restless. You couldn’t help but linger just a little longer in all that self-pity, still replaying the night and all you could have done differently.

Had she caught on with how out of it you had been? Had she seen through your act and immediately assumed the worst – assumed you weren’t worth keeping around?

The thoughts might be an overreaction.

You were definitely overreacting.

You didn’t really care that you were overreacting, though, because you really couldn’t control it. It was just another dark path you couldn’t stop your mind from traveling down. It was endless, and it was lonesome, and… and it was just normal. What should be devolving into a panic attack can only settle like an emptiness deep within your chest; you’ve been staring at the blank wall of your living room for so long without blinking, your eyes have gone dry.

A pattern. That’s what the therapist said. You had a pattern for overthinking these interactions, for projecting feelings onto others that didn’t exist. You think all your friends hate you, you think that a stranger found your smile to be more of a grimace, you think your mom hasn’t called in months because she recognizes you as a failure finally. But none of it is actually what those people think. It’s like a mirror – you look into the eyes of others, and you see all your own insecurities reflected back.

She’d asked you to work on it. To take a step back and just breathe, just remind yourself of that, whenever this happens. You’d decide whether you’d mention this minor slip up later. For now, you were going to wallow. You were going to spiral with just you, this damn blank wall, and maybe even the bottle of wine in the fridge.

Yes, your mind was made up, and you force yourself to stand from the couch and wander into the kitchen, eyes still dry and chest still caving in on itself as you open the fridge.

That’s as far as you get. Your fridge is wide open, the bright luminescent light flooding your kitchen floor in time with the trickling chill that sneaks up on your warm cheeks and already numb toes, when you spot it.

A box of takeout. It’s old enough now you could throw it out, you had known the moment he’d taken the last of his meal to-go that he wouldn’t finish it. Teased him about it, even. But he was stubborn and you weren’t capable of turning down the opportunity to let another piece of him, another flash of evidence of his place in your life, occupy this apartment. So there it sat, a half-eaten burger he hadn’t revisited.

But he had revisited the apartment – revisited you. He’d been here every night this week, and you’d practically had to shove him out on the street to get him to leave this morning to get to work on time.

The edges of that emptiness that weighs down your insides blur, already lightening microscopically as you slam shut the fridge and forgo the wine completely to grab the phone instead.

“You don’t have to always take care of everyone, you know,” he murmured as he joined you in the kitchen to retrieve popcorn for the gang, everyone gathered in the living room for a movie night.

“Pardon?” you asked, hardly glancing over your shoulder as you punched in the designated time for the microwave to turn the kernels into an easy, mouth-watering snack of butter and crunch.

“You always take care of everyone. You don’t have to.”

His words rang clearer that time, loud enough to have stopped you in your tracks. You paused mid-reach, the cabinet for the Harrington’s bowls wide open and shelves nearly too tall for you.

“I-” you weren’t sure exactly what to say, “What do you mean?”

His brows scrunched, eyes having narrowed in the slightest in your direction, “Please don’t play dumb right now.”

“I’m not playing dumb. I’m trying to get popcorn for our movie night,” you waved your hand towards the shelves lined with bowls for emphasis on your point, “That’s not really taking care of everyone – it was just being polite. Steve’s hosting, it’s the least I can do.”

“The least you can do? The least you can do is actually just sit with friends, enjoy the movie,” the crease between his brow deepened, eyeing you with an unfamiliar concern. You shifted beneath the weight of his gaze.

You don’t know what to say. Except, “It’s not that serious.”

He scoffed, and you nearly flinched from it. Fear threatened to bubble up – he’s upset, he’s getting irritated at you. He’s getting tired of you.

You waited for him to say something more as the buzz of the microwave filled the tense space, but he remained silent. Brooding.

“What?” your voice shook, your entire being torn between succumbing to all that fear and anxiety in upsetting him further and that voice in the back of your mind that urged you to push him, to hear what he really thought. “I know you have something more to say.”

“In the six months I’ve known you, you haven’t taken a single break for yourself.”

He met your push, stood his ground and didn’t let it put any distance between you two. It felt like a goddamn revelation, right there in the Harrington kitchen.

“I take plenty of breaks, Eddie,” you tried to laugh off, “I do spend time away from you all, hard as that may be to belie-”

“Hardly,” he cut you off as sharply as the first resonating pop that echoed from the microwave.

“What’s your point? I just like being around you guys. Like I said, it’s not that serious.”

This was the part where the distance would happen. You kept pushing, took the inch he’d given you to bite back and ran with it. Normally, you avoided conflict with any of your friends vehemently. Always afraid, always assuming the relationships to be so fragile and so delicate. You would take such care in never giving them a reason to hate you that you’d never taken to a battleground before.

But there had been a look in Eddie’s eyes that night. A shine that, breaking through all the worry for you, whispered, fight with me. Stand your ground with me. I’ll still call you tomorrow, no matter what words we exchange tonight.

A safety net had formed that you’d never even noticed. That delicacy wasn’t needed here. You could pick up the sword, there in that kitchen, and it wouldn’t turn Eddie to smoke and shadows.

“My point is…” he paused, he swallowed hard, he exhibited the delicacy that was usually expected from you, “You can like being around us. But you should put yourself first. At least once. At least on movie night.”

“How is me making popcorn not putting myself first?” you got the question out, you took a deep breath, ready to go on some sort of defensive tirade for your habit you were well aware of.

He beat you to it, “Every day last week, you only got three hours of sleep, at most, before your shifts. You gave up sleep to hang out with us all way too late, refused to throw in the towel and go home before anyone else.”

“I could have napped-”

“You didn’t nap,” he stressed, taking a step closer to you. The popping of the snack turning in the microwave was erratic, mere seconds left on the timer. Static noise to the conversation at hand, “I know you didn’t fucking nap after your shifts because you were immediately running errands for everyone else, or hanging out again. You offered to give Robin a ride to work every single day, and her shifts start… what, an hour after yours ended? And then you had to give her rides home, right? But in those hours she was at work, you were helping Dustin with an essay for school – that little fucker told me all about it. You were awake when Johnathan called you and we were all stoned off our asses, went and got us food we didn’t need but still wanted. We didn’t even expect you to pick up, you know? I told them, I swore to them, you wouldn’t pick up. You had a morning shift. You were scheduled literal hours from when we called you. But you picked up. You fucking picked up, and you went and got the fucking food for us fucking idiots.”

Your brain completely malfunctioned. You couldn’t comprehend how he was saying all of these things that should be good things, things that proved you were needed and you were reliable, but with such venom in his tone.

Anger had sparked within you as you pictured how giddy Dustin had been over the B he’d earned on his essay, that sincere appreciation on Robin’s face every time she left your car last week, the dopey grin that Argyle had worn when you’d arrived with their food order in your pajamas. All previously things to fuel you, filling that aching hole inside of you, now being tarnished because he was concerned.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you seethed at him, “Would you prefer I hadn’t been awake? Would you prefer I let Dustin just… get a fucking F on that essay? Or Robin walks to work?”

“Yes!”

You were both shocked at the sudden volume in your voices. The quickness in his reply. The quiver in your lip.

“Yes,” he breathed out, quieter this time, “I would prefer those things if it meant you were taking care of yourself. The word ‘no’ should be in your vocabulary, sweetheart. I… The world doesn’t end just because you don’t constantly make yourself available.”

But you all needing me might.

“Just… just…” your breaths came out in huffs, eyes downcast and unwilling to meet Eddie’s stare. A final push, and it came out more fragile than you’d ever intended, “Just mind your business, Eddie.”

He opened his mouth to say more, but the microwave started to go off, signaling what you saw as the end of the conversation – the fight. You’d raised your voice at him, you’d swung that sword in his direction, and he hadn’t vanished. His friendship – he – wasn’t as breakable as you’d thought.

You spun on your heel, you took the popcorn out and divided it into bowls for the group, busying your hands in any way possible. All the while, he never left the kitchen. He stood just feet away from you and let you do what needed to be done, and only stopped you as you turned to exit the kitchen with the snacks acquired.

His hand caught onto your elbow, “You have bags.”

“Excuse me?”

“You have bags under your eyes,” he elaborated. He no longer looked frustrated, but defeated, a morose distress pinching the edges of his feature.

“Jesus,” you were now scoffing, adjusting your grip on those bowls, “You really know how to compliment a girl, don’t you?”

“They’ve been there for months,” his grip refused to loosen, thumb trailing over the crease in your arm, “Please don’t run yourself into the ground.”

You gave him a cold shoulder as you left him behind to rejoin your friends, unable to shake his consternation. It was so genuine, it terrified you. It made your insides churn, it turned your anxious attachment to dust.

It made a shiver of warmth travel down your spine.

The empty space beside you on the couch only remained for seconds after you’d passed around the bowls, keeping one for yourself. He was back there, back at your side, as if the two of you hadn’t just exited a battle ground. As if a stand-off hadn’t just occurred, as if it all hadn’t ended in a draw.

He looked at you with those eyes.

Fight with me. Stand your ground with me. Don’t walk away from me. I will still call tomorrow.

He did more than call that night. As the movie started, he didn’t so much as flinch when your head fell to his shoulder in exhaustion. He only tucked an arm around your shoulders, only shifted you to be more comfortable as you used him as a personal pillow. He glared at everyone in warning not to grill you on the plot of the movie when you’d awoke mildly disappointed, he’d let you sleep on the drive home. He never once brought the fight back up.

And he still called the next day.

After your shift, he was the first voice you heard after dragging your feet into your apartment. A brief apology was exchanged before it was back to business as usual between you two. And somewhere between his rambles, you fell asleep with your phone balanced half-haphazardly between your cheek and shoulder. You could only dream of the grin he wore when he’d hear your soft snores over the line, quieting down immediately to let you rest. He never hung up – he was content to sit on a hushed line if only for the assuredness that you were finally resting.

The warmth no longer traveled down your spine, instead curling up timidly near that hole inside of you. You let it.

“Munson residence!”

That warmth that had found home in your chest still remains to this day, rousing at Eddie’s voice over the line. It’s nearly enough to make you cry – the relief that floods you just by the sound of him and his endless chipper. His optimism that always seems to exist, even in contrast with those harsh edges he tries to portray.

“Eddie,” you whisper, as if you’re not the only one in your apartment, “Can you… Are you free?”

Even after a year, you still sometimes felt guilt, asking so much of him. Asking so much, and giving so little in return.

But you weren’t the one who set that standard. Eddie had. Ferociously, fiercely, stubbornly. The insistence that you simply being was enough for him.

“For you, sweetness?” he chuckles lowly. He recognizes your voice immediately; you never have to say it’s you calling. You could have shrugged it off as Caller ID, but you knew the Munson’s phone didn’t have that. No, he recognized you by voice only. He’d once joked that only you would one day be able to rouse him from the dead, based on the ‘sweet melody alone’. Recognition in death – you had managed to burrow your way so deeply into his life, you’d earned recognition in death. “Always. What’s up?”

You could have just kept him on the phone. Had one of your infamous conversations about everything and nothing. Sat on the cold tiles of your kitchen and smiled like a child as you listened to him rant. But the cold chill of your lonesome apartment was becoming suffocating, and you remembered that take out in the fridge and the way one of his socks had ended up in your laundry last week. You remembered how you started keeping his favorite brand of beer in your fridge and how one of your pillows started to permanently smell like his aftershave.

He had a toothbrush in your bathroom. He had a key to your apartment. He had a space, here, in this lonesome apartment. And all you had to do was beckon to him, and he would come to fill it. Always.

“Can you come over?”

You don’t even have to explain yourself. He complies readily, whispers out a soft yes in the voice you’d also recognize even in death, and promises to be there within ten minutes.

He makes it within eight.

And you’re still leaning on your kitchen counter, your head still swimming dangerously with all the different ways you’d let down Nancy. Once upon a time, you might have worried about inviting him over, worried that your anxieties and your short-comings might bleed into your relationship with him. In the beginning, it had been simple enough. You kept him at an arm’s length away the moment you realized you couldn’t make yourself needed to him, not out of selfishness but out of fear. Fear, because if he didn’t need you, why would he stick around?

Because without need, if you did the wrong thing, there was no necessary thread tying them to you. Because without need, there was no chance for the day that you might find love in your grave robbings, and you couldn’t handle the thought of someone like Eddie Munson deciding you weren’t worth his time.

It hadn’t occurred to you for a very long time that maybe, possibly, you’d been going around the concept of love with a very wrong mindset.

Your safe place. That’s what the back of the van had become over these sticky summer nights – your safest refuge.

It was always the same scene; Eddie on his back beside you, lazily nursing a joint, while you sat up reading passages of the latest book you two had embarked on together. Sometimes it was poetry, sometimes it was fantasy, and sometimes, it was just a reread. That night, it was a reread. The Hobbit.

“‘I don’t see that this will help us much,’ said Thorin disappointedly after a glance. ‘I remember the mountain well-’” you recited off of the page, when Eddie suddenly sat up abruptly and snatched the book from you.

“No, no, no!” he wagged his finger at you after he discarded his joint into the ashtray you’d made him start keeping in the fan, “Sweetheart, you’re doing the voices all wrong.”

You rolled your eyes at him, reaching to take the book back, “Not all of us have a Dungeon Master voice to whip out, Munson. Give it back.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Do I need to say please? I’ll say please.”

It was best like this. Just the two of you, away from everyone else. Some nights, the two of you hadn’t even needed a book to bond over. You’d just gaze at stars, or indulge in whatever weed he’d brought along with him. He never pressured you, though – if you shook your head at his offer of the joint, that was that. He seemed to apply that to most aspects of your friendship this last year.

You never had to prove anything to him. He saw your worth as if it were glaringly obvious, as if it were as simple of a concept as breathing. No extra effort needed from your end.

Just by being, you had managed to become something important to him. He needed you, if only because you were you.

“The puppy dog eyes aren’t gonna work on me,” he snorted, shifting so that his shoulder pressed against your own. A warmth spreads from the point of contact. “Let the master show you how it’s done.”

You tried to not let it show, but your grin was radiant. He was the master at those ridiculous voices, at theatrics and at bringing the story to life. You were transported from the shore of Lover’s Lake, in the back of that stuffy yet comforting van, to meadows of soft grass and hobbit holes of comfort. To a place where all the threats were mythical and all the expectations of you were released.

You’d spent the week helping Steve finish up his college plans. His parents had tried to pressure him into picking his top three universities, but the moment he had confided in you that he might prefer a community college to begin, you’d held his hand as you guided him through the process. A rewarding process, have no doubt, but it had left you numb and reeling. Sharing someone else’s stress, shouldering their burdens – it had been a bit much.

You needed this. You needed Eddie’s ridiculous voices and the sharp press of his shoulder against your temple.

“Falling asleep on me already?” he teased when he’d noticed how quiet you had gone.

“Never,” you lied through a yawn that quickly exposed you.

“Liar,” he huffed. You didn’t even need to glance up to confirm the smile you knew he wore. “We can head back home, if you need. I know it’s getting late-”

“No,” you quickly sat up, effectively making yourself dizzy, “No, I- It’s fine. I’m awake. I swear.”

“It’s okay that you were falling asleep,” he was quick to reach out, to tug you back down to his side, wrapping his arm around you to press you even closer than before, “I just don’t want to keep Cinderella out past Midnight.”

“It’s barely ten.”

“Nothing gets past you, Sherlock,” he scowled as you pressed your grin against his t-shirt clad shoulder, “I’m serious, though. Do I need to take you home?”

“No, Eddie. I’m good.”

“Swear it? Swear you don’t have an early shift, or some… some obligation?”

“No shifts, no obligations.”

“And if I just kidnap you for the weekend? Am I going to have an angry mob at my doorstep, demanding your service?”

You smiled wider at the thought. The idea of him hiding you away, letting you live in this reprieve for the entire weekend. It was a nice thought, “I certainly wouldn’t complain.”

And so the two of you sat there like that for an hour more. Eddie coming up with ridiculous tones for the various characters, you slipping in and out of consciousness as his warmth stayed wrapped around him. You don’t even notice when the warmth he’d planted in you finally covers up that hole inside of you, not even missing the absence of that emptiness until Eddie went quiet.

In the silence, you noticed it.

The gash you’d grown accustomed to, the hole that had become an extra limb for you. Vanished. Gone. Disappeared without a trace.

It was a sudden and terrifying realization. Everything in you urged you to jump up, to scramble around you to find the darkness again, like a comfort blanket you couldn’t stand to lose. You went against the instinct, though, and rose slowly from Eddie’s hold.

In lieu of scrambling, you peered at Eddie curiously. “Hey, Eds. Can I ask you something?”

He nodded sleepily, almost as drowsy as you. You’re shocked when he shifts and instead of pulling you back to him, he opted to lay his head in your lap.

That hole was still gone. The weight of his head on your thighs, the feeling of his breath on your bare thigh. For a moment, you can’t breathe.

You’re warm. Not uncomfortably so, but encapsulated with an internal warmth. Like a fever spreading, the ice in your spine that you had lived with for years had begun to thaw.

“Why do you keep me around?” you whispered, still sitting stiffly, staring in awe down at the way he just nuzzled his face into your lap.

With his eyes still closed, face smooth from any worry from the question, he mumbled, “What do you mean?”

You only hesitated due to the thought crossing your mind; what if you bringing this up reminds him?

You thought back to the night in Harrington’s kitchen. The push and the pull, the bloody battle and the way he still called.

He was not as delicate as you took him for.

“I- What do you get out of this?” you couldn’t figure out how to phrase it correctly. You knew what you got out of this, but what does he get?

“Get out of what?”

“Get out of keeping me around.”

His eyes finally opened, twisting in your lap so that he could stare up at you. “You say that as if you’re forcing me to be your friend.”

I could be, that nagging voice in your mind whispered. You could very well be forcing him, and just be blinded because you were enjoying the summer of warmth that he carried with him too much to let him go.

“You never let me do anything for you,” you sighed, fingers finding themselves tangled in his roots against better judgment. But you needed to touch him, to ground yourself, as you admitted this hard truth, “You do shit for me all the time. You drive all the way out to this lake just because I complain about everything being too much. You’ve started playing chauffeur for the kids to give me a break. Harrington said you even offered to look at college brochures with him. And…. And I’m not stupid, Eds,” your voice shook as you looked down at him, a sudden feeling of undeserving striking you in your chest, “You do so much for me lately. And you don’t ask for anything in return – you don’t let me do anything in return. Why?”

His smile twisted with a hint of sadness, and brown eyes met your gaze without so much as flinching, “Sweetheart, why do you think you have to repay me for that stuff?”

“I-”

“No, hear me out,” he reached up, taking your hand out of his hair and lacing his fingers with yours, slowly dragging it down to rest on his sternum, “I chose to do that stuff. And, yeah, maybe I was trying to take some of that shit off your plate. But you didn’t ask me to. I chose to. I wanted to do those things, do nice things for you, because you won’t let anyone else.”

You bit back a scoff, “I let people do nice things for me-”

“You really don’t,” his hold on your hand tightened, “You really, really don’t. You constantly…. You just, you take care of everyone else, but you act afraid to let someone take care of you. People are allowed to take care of you, too, y’know? You should let them. They love you – they want to take care of you, just like you take care of them.”

They love you.

The air drained from your lungs in a slow, silent sigh. You waited a few minutes, but the oxygen never replenished as you tried to grasp his words.

They love you.

Why would they love me?

“Why wouldn’t they love you, sweetheart?” Eddie looked more concerned now, suddenly prepared to sit up and remove his head for your lap. But his hand still held yours tightly, still clung to you, “You know they love you, right? God, you gotta know that. We all love you.”

You hadn’t realized you’d spoken the bitter thought out loud until he looked at you, utterly heartbroken, in complete disbelief. “I…”

No. I don’t know that. What have I done to deserve their love?

“They need me, sure,” you started, narrowing your eyes at the breaks in the waves of Lover’s Lake, “I mean, I just try to make myself useful to them. It’s the least I can do when I… when they…” you struggled to get the words out. You saw that hole again, like a light at the end of the tunnel, but so far from the relief most mean by that metaphor. Something peeking around the corner, ready to devour you all over again. So you plunged, you prepared yourself for it to spring to life and take you whole as you nearly whimpered, “When they put up with me. It’s the least I can do when they put up with me.”

“No one puts up with you,” Eddie’s voice cracked. You couldn’t even look him in the eyes. “Least of all me.”

The deadliest of blows. He cracked your hardened surface with that, shook the foundations of every belief you’d held for eternity.

“Most of all you,” you corrected without thinking, “God, I- Eddie, seriously. What reason do you have for keeping me around? I don’t know how the fuck you put up with m-”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” you’d never heard him beg so painfully before then, “Please. Don’t… You want to know my reason?” you nodded numbly, finally looking to find him with wet eyes and lips pressed into a fine line, “Because you’re you. I… Fuck, I love you. I keep you around because you’re you. You’re good for me. Whether you believe it or not. You’re good for me just by being you, and there’s nothing you have to do to accomplish that,” you started to look away before he grabbed your cheeks, turning you to face him as he emphasized each word, “You don’t have to earn love. That’s not what love is. Got it?”

You looked into his eyes, and saw all the soft declarations of love echoed back to you, even from the very start.

‘Sweetheart, you don’t owe me your time. And I don’t need monopoly over it for us to be okay.’

‘The world doesn’t end just because you don’t constantly make yourself available.’

The entire time you’d been so worried about taking care of everyone else, he’d been worried about taking care of you. Endless late night phone calls, careful check-ins when he saw the exhaustion take the frontlines, sparse fights about putting yourself first. The only thing he ever wanted from you was for you to take care of yourself.

While you were busy being there for everyone else, he was busy being there for you.

He never once made you dig to the bottom of his grave to find the warmth. He’d handed it over on a silver platter.

So how could you look him in his at that moment, and tell him that you didn’t ‘get it’? That you’d never been sure if what you were seeking from your friends was really love? That, really, you’d given up on being loved a long time ago, assuming it was asking too much?

How do you look him in his eyes in that moment and tell him you had long since declared yourself unlovable?

He didn’t make you say it. Only kept your cheeks pressed between his palms, as he leaned forward, forehead meeting yours and whispering words for only you, “I love you, no strings attached. You’re my… friend. I love you. Okay?”

No one had ever fought so valiantly to get the point across. Not just that night at the lake, but in the entirety of his friendship with you.

The hole slinked back behind the corner. The darkness decided it could wait another day. And in its place, warm brown eyes filled the void. Whether he even realized it or not.

You nearly believed him. Nearly. But you bit down hard on that belief, throwing it out of sight, and instead of echoing back the ‘okay’ you assumed he was seeking out, all you did was sob out another, “Why?”

When you collapsed into him, he held you. Your sobs remained dry, your confusion palpable as you clung to him and tried to let that belief envelope you like his arms had.

I love you.

How could someone love you?

He didn’t press it the way you thought he would. He didn’t scold you for continuing to question him and he didn’t lash out at your disbelief.

He just held you. Letting your face press into his neck as his fingers ran up and down your spine, giving it a moment before he started talking again.

“Your humor,” he hummed after a couple moments of silence, heavy breathing eventually evening out.

“What?”

“The way you take care of others,” he continued on like he hadn’t heard you, “That spark you get in your eyes when you tell someone about something good. A favorite book, movie, story from your day – whatever it is. The way you give the best hugs – and you don’t give me them nearly often enough. The way you snore, and the way you definitely deny snoring.”

You opened your mouth, about to lift your head and argue with him, but he just placed an encouraging palm on the back of your head to keep you close to him.

“The way your favorite color changes with the seasons. The way you only like artificial cherry flavoring, not the real stuff. The way you look at night when we’re driving and you’re just screaming your favorite lyrics. The way you look at me to see if a joke lands. The way you fuss about my wrinkled clothes, even when you also don’t care about the wrinkles in your own shirts. The way you take your coffee. The way you always offer to paint one of my nails to match yours. The way you treat your recipe for chocolate chip cookies like some top secret, government trade. But we both know it’s just some recipe from a cookbook you thrifted when you were ten. The way you get excited over the small things, like the cows we pass by on the way out here. They're always there, and you always point them out. The way you just… are.”

He didn’t have to say it. He was answering your question.

He was listing his whys.

“You don’t have to earn it,” he didn’t say the word, not this time. You felt it, “It just… it’s there. It’s there and it’s not going anywhere. I’ll remind you of that every day if I have to.”

Loved. For the first time ever, it felt like a possibility; to be loved.

Eddie always knocks on your front door a certain way – a pattern he rarely strays from. But you can always tell. He’s the only fool who would find humor in knocking out such an annoying compilation of hits on the wooden panels until you finally unlatch the lock and open it to find him standing in your threshold.

His hair is frizzy and in a low ponytail, wearing a baggy band shirt and plaid pajama pants. He greets you with such a wide smile, your chest aches.

“Hey there, sweetness.”

You don’t say a word, just drag him inside before you wrap your arms around his waist. Ever since that night, and his admittance of enjoying your hugs, you made a conscious effort to hug him more often.

“Miss me?” he chuckles, and you feel the vibrations against your cheek as you softly pinch his side. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make him only laugh harder once you pull away.

“Not at all,” you snark back as you make sure the door is securely shut and properly locked.

“Not even a little bit?”

“Nope.”

He smacks a fist to his chest as if you had stabbed him with your words, “Ouch. You wound me, sweetheart.”

“Get over it,” you tease. Your head has finally stopped swimming, your chest no longer tight with the fear of not being enough. Nancy is long forgotten as you say, “Have you eaten dinner?”

“Depends,” he hums as he toes off his boots, “If you’re offering to buy me some, then no, I definitely did not eat spaghetti with Wayne right before you called.”

You throw your head back laughing as he’s already making a beeline for your kitchen, digging out that damned takeout menu and reaching for the phone, already so sure of your order.

Knowing your order at restaurants. Without having to ask. Apparently, that was part of the whole ‘being loved’ gig.

Adjusting has taken months. Since that night in Eddie’s van, he’d kept his word. Not a day went by without him finding a way to remind you, whether it be by direct words or small actions, that he loved you. You both kept it under that friendly guise. He loved you in that familiar way, the way the others supposedly loved you. A way you could manage to recognize some days.

Other days were still rough. Days like today were still rough.

The takeout is ordered and Eddie sets up camp on your couch, rambling about something that had happened during one of the DnD nights he still hosted with the kids. Something about a dumb decision Mike did that cost most of the group their character’s lives. You have a hard time following along, and he’s quick to pick up on it.

“Hey, sweetheart?” he murmurs as you lean into the back couch cushion, smooshing your cheek as you watched him animatedly speak.

“Hm?”

“Bad day?”

He never judged you for the rough days. He never judged you for the days you still couldn’t find the love, even after he worked so virtuously to show it to you. He may never understand it, that hollow ache that resided in your darkest corners and whispered that none of it was real, but it never deterred him.

He loved you on good days, and he especially loved you on bad days.

You consider lying to him, but you can’t. Not when he looks at you so earnestly, “Yeah. It… yeah.”

“Wanna talk about it?” he asks you, shuffling to be more comfortable where he sits as he motions for you to lay down. You do so immediately, head finding a home against his thigh and his fingers stroking over your cheek before they toy with the ends of your hair.

All you can do is shake your head. You didn’t want to talk about that fear of failing Nancy as a friend, especially when you know that wasn’t her take away from it. It felt silly now; all that overthinking, when you know now if you questioned her on it, all she would have seen from the day was a friend lending a caring ear. You know because you had asked her about it once, if she found your listening habits too callous, upon Eddie’s insistence.

She hadn’t. In fact, all she could do was thank you, had insisted that she was just grateful someone would listen to her ramblings. And you understood that, left it at that.

“Okay,” he murmurs, voice so quiet you nearly miss it. His fingers continue to play across your shoulders now, barely weighted against bare skin, “That’s fine.”

He didn’t mind if you didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t mind if you never spoke another word, if all you needed was him here. You just needed him close by and to sit with you, to make it all a little less much.

Nothing. He needed absolutely nothing from you, asked nothing of you. Because you didn’t have to earn this. All you had to do was simply be, and he would provide this.

Love. What an odd concept, to have found warmth in a grave you never even got the chance to dig your shovel into.

“Hey, Eddie?” his fingers pause at your croaking voice. You smile at his stillness, at the way he hums carefully in response, still trying to offer the silence you quietly begged for, “I love you.”

There’s more to unpack there. More than just familial love, more than just two friends that love each other without conditions. But tonight is not the night, and you both see that it is enough. There will be other nights to dig your claws in and to dissect what those three little words mean between you two. There will be other nights to consider how your other friends don’t have a permanent spare toothbrush on your bathroom counter or a space for their takeout in your fridge. But not tonight.

For tonight, this was enough. The quiet, and the warmth, the being was enough.

“I love you,” he emphasizes the last word, leaning down and his lips grazing your temple.

You notice the way he leaves off the too. He’d love you, even if you didn’t love him. You’d love him, even if he didn’t love you. Unconditional, no strings attached. A warmth you do not have to fight to earn. A rarity you never encountered before, and may never encounter again, but you have for tonight and for as long as he chooses to stick around.

Your shovel sits abandoned in a shed in the distance. Your fingernails are clean of the dirt. The graveyard, it seems, would go another night without its robber.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #yeah the archer has a chokehold on me #idk man this is scary to post a put... a lot of myself in here #my bad #3k celebration

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sophiethewitch1 · 8 months

Text

A Dramatic Irony

A/n: Trying to combat writer's block so I decided to do this little drabble. Spoilers for the WHB prologue, and also includes my theory that MC will turn out to be God in some form or capacity. Because why the hell else would the angels turn over to our side?

GAME IS 18+ THIS DRABBLE ISN'T, BUT EVEN THE PROLOGUE HAS ADULT CONTENT! MINORS PLEASE BE SENSIBLE!!!

“So, it was you? This whole time?” His lips graze against your throat. He’s warm, of course he is. All that holy light spilling out? He’s so warm it’s almost uncomfortable.

Everything about this is uncomfortable, really. But of course, like always, you’re at the centre of it. Of every situation, from the depths of hell to the cloudy tops of heaven.

“I’m not Him,” you grit out, your body shivering. You don’t dare move. Not with Gabriel, the man who had sworn to kill you, who had chased you over hell with armies of feathered fiends, with his teeth at your jugular.

It doesn’t matter the way he shakes just the same as you. It doesn’t matter that his fingers skim delicately - reverently - across your stomach. It doesn’t matter that those eyes that before looked at you with absolutely nothing inside, now seemed to overflow. With love, obsession.

You know, before all this, you’d been an atheist. Before an unholy angel had crawled out of your computer and a righteous demon had saved you and your best friend’s life, you had thought God couldn’t exist. That the world couldn’t be so cruel if someone like Him truly did exist. That your childhood wouldn’t be mired in tragedy, that you wouldn’t struggle to get out of bed every day. That you wouldn’t have to blink away flashes of the scent of copper and soap.

And of course, then you’d made a deal with the devil. You’d gone to hell. You’d broken countless contracts, and warred against heaven. You’d had to fight for every second of your life, and you’d done it bitterly, angrily.

Angry at this God that had disappeared, and angry at His stupid mistake of making every angel madly in love with him. Angry at how He never thought of the consequences of his actions, of how He never imagined a world He wouldn’t exist in. How just by your birth, you’d been destined to suffer. How your parents would have died no matter what, how you would always have had to walk this thorny path.

How He never seemed to consider what could happen when you created one of the strongest beings in the universe and forgot to give them a fucking moral compass.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he murmurs, ignoring your words. His too-warm body crowding in too close to yours, as your fists curl against his chest, desperately trying to push him away. It’s no use because no matter what’s in your blood, you aren’t strong enough - what is Solomon’s, and what is His.

Because, apparently, those stupid mistakes you’d cursed God for, were yours.

“I’m not Him,” you repeat, hands moving to claw at his throat. He doesn’t react beyond a small sigh of pleasure, curling into your touch like a cat in the sun. “I’m not Him. I don’t have His memories. I’m not Him.”

“I told you, didn’t I? I didn’t have any negative feelings towards you. I’m sorry, I’ll fix it. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Please, just let me stay by your side?”

It’s such a strange dichotomy. The angel who sees this as a beautiful, miraculous reunion. And you, who sees this a tragedy. One you could never escape. The angel from before, swinging his scythe at your throat, and the one who now presses plush lips against that same skin. It’s too ironic, isn’t it? It just can’t be true. It just doesn’t make any sense.

“I don’t want you by my side,” you sob, but he just shushes you, pressing kisses against your head and across your face. He licks up your tears, groaning at the taste.

It’s too cruel. You have to wonder if the old you, the one you can’t remember, ran from this.

His hands tighten around your waist. It doesn’t really matter what happened before, because you know you won’t be able to run this time.

#what in hell is bad #whb #whb gabriel #what in hell is bad gabriel #whb x reader #yandere x reader #yandere drabble #whb gabriel x reader

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rodolfoparras · 7 months

Note

Ok but imagine price's wife catches them in action and price saw her but he begged the younger recruit to still keep going🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯

ANON THIS WAS THE BEST THING IVE HEARD TODAY

Price’s wife who’s always heard such good things about the young recruit that price is mentoring. Your name is a common topic at the dinner table. She’d been to many of your award ceremonies, had even invited you over to her and Price’s house a couple of times, Price had even gone as far as calling you the son he’s never had

Imagine the absolute horror when she finds the very same recruit fucking her husband in their shared bedroom

At first she doesn’t even know what’s happening, having just arrived from work and standing behind the door, listening in on the strange noise coming from inside the bedroom.

She peaks her head inside, only to see price pinned down to the bed, head pressed into the mattress and ass propped up in the air

She’s absolutely horrified and for a brief second she thinks he must’ve been forced into doing this

But price isn’t sobbing because he’s upset, isn’t shaking because he’s scared, matter of fact he looks like he’s enjoying it, even from where she’s standing she can see the way his eyes roll back in his head, mouth agape and drool dribbling onto the mattress where he lays as he willingly takes everything you give him

“I bet your little wife cant fuck you like this isn’t that right pretty?” You say, thrusting harsher, deeper, into him, while she watches her husband eagerly buck up onto the young recruit’s cock.

“Answer me pretty” you say punctuating every word with a thrust to his prostate and Price makes a sound she’d never heard her husband make before.

“No no only you! Only you can do it please please let me cum please sir I need it”

“What do you think? Should I let him?” You say, words no longer directed at price but instead to his wife as you meet her eyes.

Her heart drops to her stomach, bile rising in her throat but you don’t cease your thrust, instead you continue to bully your cock into her husbands hole

#thank you for this anonie #I feel jdjdjd today and this was a nice thought as funny as that may sound #alec answers #John price #John price x reader #John price x male reader #captain John price #captain John price x male reader #captain John price x reader #call of duty #top male reader #bottom male character #sub male character #dom male reader

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house-of-daena · 7 months

Note

knocking on your door. hi. let me in. i have thoughts. i am not insane.

thinking about all the segments + original again. how they’re all possessive in their own ways over the one they all call their lover.

like the ones who like to wake you up by giving you head, whatever you may have been wearing now off to the side as their head is buried between your thighs, their drool and your releases coating your thighs by the time you try to sit up— just to see these smug bastards pull their head back and smile with those sharp teeth with a singsong “gooood morning~” before going right back to it and wringing another orgasm from you.

the absolutely insatiable more biological segments who have you fuck them against any door within the palace or whatever fancy hotel dotty funded you all to stay in. they’re taking advantage of tinted windows and their flexibility every time, a leg thrown over your shoulder as you slowly thrust up into them, tongues intertwined as they cream yet again on your cock, begging you to keep going ♥︎ fill them ♥︎ claim them ♥︎ use their body until they pass out from pleasure ♥︎ getting caught doesn’t matter to them when you pump them full of another load, since they’re too far gone the moment they have you where they want you— deep inside, bulging their pale tummies and proving your claim over them by painting their insides

good old fashioned segments like omega who like having your hands all up in their wired guts, learning their fantastical anatomy just to plunge their own arms inside and mess it all up. they come to you with their legs almost shaking from anticipation, voices trembling from the sheer desire and ‘adrenaline’ when they wait outside your office, and they’re such greedy but good boys, kicking their legs in the air as they sit on the edge of your operating table like the cuties they are. they bite at their artificial skin with their faux teeth, their eyes following you every moment that they detect you in the same room as them.

YESSS THISSS omggg this is so real ..

more utc

honestly they're all soooo needy n possessive,, they often fight who gets to spend time with you 😊 they seem all so innocent and sweet in your eyes but behind your back they're giving each other death glares and competing with one another !

it'd be such a delight to wake up to one of the cutie segments just sucking you off or desperately riding you, grinning ear to ear... they have tears in their eyes as they take you deeper, their hands trembling as he holds onto u for dear life... then they cry out when u paint their insides with your delicious cum they've been craving, only to start moving for more... other segments peeking through the open crack of the door and whimpering at the way u grip their waist to thrust up into his greedy hole, eyes all locked in creamy ring around ur cock that connected the two of u... ohh they're all seething with jealousy.. but they're all jerking off, sososo depraved n horny just by watching..

having the segments feels like u have so many dogs to care for! they all try to be good, but they're just. .. too needy! all the fuckin time too, n it doesn't help that prime always what's you for himself, making the segments even more desperate...

u visit one of them in one of the regions they're assigned in because you had a mission n decided to see em? expect to have a giddy segment on his knees, pawing at your pants and begging to suck you off, step on em, slap em, spank em, anything and everything. just pleasee fuck them pleasepleaseplease and you haven't done anything to them yet and they're sobbing already, so fucking hard that pre is seeping through their pants... loves it when you bend them over, fold their pliant bodies and manhandle them, fuck em in a mating press and just plunge it so deep they can feel it in their stomachs.. them clench onto your cock, their walls memorizing the shape and girth, the pleasurable burn at each drag...

they need to take and take because they know once you leave, they're not having this again in a verryyy long time as much as they know u wanna give em all their much needed attention. they're no satisfied easily, no noooo, they need you to groan in their ears that they're yours! make em feel loved by promising to breed em and make em pregnant, so they won't have to be jealous cuz you've filled em up with ur kids n they're sobbing at the thought, absolutely elated when they see their tummies slightly bloat at how much you've cummed inside of them... oh you best believe they're gonna plug themselves and holding onto your cum when you do leave, , they wanna savor the warmth.. though they're gonna struggle walking for a while cuz every step , they could still feel u inside of them..

omggg the older segments created more mechanically? hehe, they're always at your door! hell, they're probably lined up outside your office, waiting for you to fix them 💔 oh but you know that they intentionally get their insides all mangled, so you'd shove your hands arms deep into their intricate guts,.. make the others waiting watch you literally play with his system, making the poor segment overheat and almost making them shut down at the verge of overwhelming pleasure. you had to create a feature that stimulates a copy of a human orgasm and oh gods they love it, sososo much they don't want you to stop until their processors are fried! they want u to trace your fingers on their metallic bones, thumb their wirings and rub their sensitive sensors... thier voices glitching the more they scream n more, body twitching and spasming the more you 'fuck' them dumb...

wanna fuck with them? turn off the feature and practically edge them for houuurss till they're a crying mess. they plead for your touch, but you wrech a loose screw and he keens 💞 they wish you can fuck them like the others but fuck, just tug on a wire and it has them throwing their heads back. oops, they mightve messed up their sensitivity... on purpose 😊😊

#» asmo talks about wife #» mutuals: pulpbeing #they play tcg and whoever wins gets to spend time with u if prime allows it #» asmo's thirst talks #sub dottore #dottore smut #sub genshin #genshin smut #sub genshin impact #Thankkk YOIUUU so much for the food nex #kissing you /p

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freedomfireflies · 7 months

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Home

Summary: An extra for Mine*

The one where your mafia boss boyfriend, Harry, has finally gotten you back.

But everything is about to change.

Word Count: 3.3k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞 You are so much more important!*

“Mama…you have to let go now.”

Your shaky hands tighten around Asher’s arm, fingers curling into his skin in a blatant act of defiance.

You hear Harry sigh from behind you before he steps closer to take hold of your shoulders gently. “Sugar, it’s time to go. You need rest.”

“I can’t,” you exhale, glancing back through tear-stained lashes. “We can’t leave him like this, Har. We can’t, it’s…he’s alone.”

“He’s not alone. And even if he were…it’s not like he knows.”

You feel a soft sob travel up the expanse of your chest, lodging in your throat almost painfully as you glare at him.

He sighs again. “We can come back tomorrow and see him. But I need to take you home now, sweet girl.”

He’s tugging on you, attempting to guide you away from where Asher lays, but you plant your feet into the ground and argue, “Harry, we can’t.”

“Mama—”

“No, he’s…what if he wakes up and he doesn’t see us? What if he thinks we left him?”

“Sugar—"

“And what if he thinks we’re angry at him? Or what if he gets worse—”

“Baby—”

“What if he doesn’t make it? And we never get to tell him—"

“Please,” he suddenly exhales, in a voice so strained and riddled with exhaustion, it takes your breath away. Drops a pit deep in the bottom of your stomach that blooms into fully formed guilt as you slow to a stop. “Please let me take you home. I have to take you home, I have…please. Just let me do this. Please let me do this.”

You think this is the first time you’ve really looked at him in hours. The first time you’ve actually noticed the dark bags and red rings around his eyes. The physical proof of the torment he’s been through painted so perfectly on his perfect face.

He’s been so patient, so gentle. Despite everything else, he’s stayed by your side as Asher was brought into his warehouse to be taken care of privately. Without involving the authorities, Harry found medical personnel he could pay off without jeopardizing his work or his men’s safety to get Asher the help he needed.

He’s taken care of everything. Every little detail and instruction without so much as flinching. He’s held it all together.

For you.

You study him with a sink in your stomach, palm pressing to his cheek as you nod once. “Okay. Okay, take me home.”

He releases his relief, nearly sinking into your touch as he nods as well and takes you by the hand to lead you out of the warehouse.

And you go home. Maybe not to the same place you used to call home, but it doesn’t matter anymore.

Wherever he is…is your home.

The rest of your night is quiet. You’re both exhausted, bodies riddled with fatigue, stress, and lingering trauma. Harry’s bruises are beginning to darken in color, and before you go to bed, you work on cleaning them up and bandaging them properly.

Then, he takes you into his arms, and brings you to bed.

He doesn’t let go all night.

Not when you turn, or shift, or cough. His arms remain snaked around your torso like a vice while his face nuzzles into your neck as though he can’t breathe any other way.

And you don’t mind.

In fact, you become quite used to the heat that radiates from his strong frame and the sound of his soft exhales in your ear.

So, when you wake to find both missing…you realize something has gone wrong.

You sit up in the large, empty bed and glance around the large, empty room for any sign of the man you love.

When you don’t find him, your mind is tempted to jump to the worst possible outcome. He’s been taken, or he’s left, or Asher took a turn for the worst and Harry went to say goodbye.

And then…you hear it. The sound of knuckles hitting the shredded foam of the punching bag. Over and over and over, followed by soft, strained grunts after each hit.

Your stomach wrenches, and with great trepidation, you slip from between the covers, and begin to pad your way through the halls.

The house is quiet and cold. Eerie, in a sense, with only the light of the moon to guide you down the stairs.

Your arms curl around your shivering frame, a fruitless attempt at finding warmth. You wonder how long he’s been gone. How angry he must have been to leave you so willingly in the middle of the night after everything else.

You find him in the basement, his back to the door as he lays hit after hit to the black bag hanging from the ceiling. You can see the muscles ripple beneath his shirt with each blow, can see the veins in his arms cord and push against his sweaty skin.

And you can see the blood. The dark droplets that trickle down his hands from the torn skin of his knuckles. He wears no gloves or wrapping to protect him from the harsh strikes. Almost as if welcoming the pain.

Encouraging it.

You step closer, finding his face in the mirror across the room. His expression is anguished and outraged. He glares at his hands like they’re the reason for his resentment, and it breaks your heart to see him so tormented.

“Har?” you call the moment he’s taken a quick pause, moving a bit closer.

You notice him hesitate, but his back remains to you. Perhaps afraid of your reaction.

Or maybe he’s afraid of his.

You frown. “Harry? What’s wrong?”

A rather silly question, you realize. Because everything is wrong. A shorter list would be things that aren’t.

But there’s something he’s holding onto, something he hasn’t shared that keeps him up. The reason for his bruised fingers and punishing strikes.

“Baby?” you murmur, hoping a softer tone will encourage a response.

Instead, all he does is shake his head.

You feel pulled to him, your feet moving across the cold, cement floor until you can wrap him in your arms and press your cheek to his spine.

“Harry,” you exhale while he braces himself against the punching bag and succumbs to your comfort. “Please…”

He sucks in a sharp breath, yet still, he remains silent. As though the words on the tip of his tongue have been swallowed by the grief.

You clutch his shirt in your hands and tug. “Talk to me. I can’t…I want to help. Please let me help. Let me make it better—”

Another breath, but this one is strangled and wounded. Breaking free of his lungs while his head drops. “Don’t,” he whispers, and you feel your pulse stagger. “Don’t, not after I…not after…”

Your brows furrow, and you grip the material on his chest a bit tighter. “After you what?”

He sighs. It’s so very heavy.

Even still, you hold on with everything you have left. “Har?”

A beat. Then—

“I let them take you.”

The admission is ushered with quiet shame, and you can hear the remorse bleed through each syllable, can feel the way his body recoils from truth.

Your lips press together as you keep your fingers tangled against his heart. “You had to.”

He scoffs to himself, palms pressing harder into the bag. “Doesn’t matter, I fucking…I let them take you. I sat there, and I listened to you cry, and I fucking…I…”

You turn him around; despite the way he attempts to remain planted to his spot. You force him to look at you, and it nearly guts you to see the way he glowers like he’s furious with himself. Like he’ll never accept the choice he made.

“You had to,” you repeat, as firmly as you can. “Harry, there was no other way. And I know that. Just like I know you didn’t want to. But this was the only option we had left.”

His teeth scrape together like the idea irks him yet there’s a sadness behind his eyes that says more than his response ever could.

And then…he lowers.

He drops to his knees, settling himself at your feet as he looks up at you with penitence.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and you suck in a sharp inhale. “I’m so sorry for everything I’ve put you through. I’m sorry for everything I’ll have to put you through again. I’m so fucking sorry for ever making you feel scared. Or alone. And I’m sorry that loving me comes at such a high cost.”

You can feel a rush of tears swimming their way up the back of your throat but before you can speak, he drops his head, looks down at the floor, and rests his hands on his thighs.

He submits to you.

“Please,” he says softly. “Please forgive me. I know I don’t deserve it. And I know that there’s nothing I can ever do that’ll make it up to you, but please…please forgive me.”

You reach down and slip your fingers under his chin, forcing his attention back. He seems to find comfort in your touch and yet at the same time, he wilts. Like he doesn’t feel worthy of your affection.

“Please,” he says again, and it creates a hole in your stomach a mile deep. “I’ll do anything.”

You take both his cheeks against your palms, thumbs gingerly dancing across the heavy bags beneath his eyes. “There’s nothing to forgive, Har. There never was.”

He nuzzles his face against your hand and takes in a shaky breath. “You deserve better than this. You deserve better than me, and I’m too selfish to let you go. But maybe I need to. Maybe I need to get out of your way so you can find somebody that isn’t going to hurt you—”

“No,” you interject, dipping down with a pointed squeeze to his jaw. “Don’t. Don’t do that—”

“I want to protect you. I want to keep you, but what if I can’t—”

“You can,” you murmur, and your voice cracks as the first tear falls down your cheek. “You can and you have. I’m with you for a reason, Harry. I love you. I love you, and I can’t be without you, so stop saying it—”

“If I lost you, I don’t know what I’d do—”

“But you didn’t,” you argue, attempting to sound more confident than you feel. “You didn’t. You never will. Just…please. Please come to bed.”

His lashes flutter, but those pretty eyes you find so much serenity in never leave you. “I’m so sorry,” he says again. “I’m so fucking sorry for not being the man you deserve.”

And it hurts you more than anything else ever has. Because you can see that he actually believes that. But even worse, you can see that you’ll never be able to change his mind.

So, you kiss him. You kiss him hard and with more love than you know what to do with. You offer it all to him, your time, your devotion, your affection. Everything you have, you give to the man on his knees.

You’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to convince him that you’re safest with him. That nobody else could ever do for you what he does. That you’re meant to be with him…even if it’s on the run.

But you suppose you’ll just have to spend the rest of your life showing him.

You whimper against his lips, hands moving for the hair on his neck as you tug. Desperate for more, for all of it. Anything he’ll give you. Needing to prove to him and to yourself that things are okay again.

In turn, he reaches out for your hips, the tips of his fingers slipping beneath your shirt as he attempts to pull you down with him.

But just before you can revel in the idea…the phone rings.

You both turn, glancing toward the wall where the landline resides, and Harry sighs as he stands back up.

“One minute, okay?” he promises, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead before slipping past you to answer.

You watch closely as he brings the headset to his ear, his expression filling with something you aren’t sure you recognize.

Your stomach drops before he nods, mumbles a quick response, and hangs up.

He turns to you. “It’s Asher.”

You step closer, the tears already flooding back to your waterline, desperate to fall.

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip…and smiles.

“He’s awake.”

“You’re a bloody fucking idiot is what you are.”

Asher laughs and nods his chin toward his boss. “You didn’t think so when I suggested it.”

“I didn’t suggest you get shot,” Harry corrects, arms crossing over his chest almost defiantly. But he’s smiling, and it makes your heart warm. “You were supposed to take her and wait outside. I would have handled it.”

“If I hadn’t stayed, they would have killed you,” Asher argues, and Harry’s expression falls. “And nobody can protect her better than you.”

Harry’s eyes drift to yours.

“Besides,” Asher adds, “it’s kind of my job to take the bullets meant for you.”

And just the thought makes your breath hitch, your throat contracting almost painfully as you glance between them.

Harry nods once. An acknowledgement of understanding. And gratefulness.

Now, Asher turns to you, frowning some as he straightens up. You rush to help, making sure his pillow is fluffed just right, and that he isn’t putting any strain or pressure on his wound.

But as you flutter about, he begins to chuckle, hand reaching out to gently ease you to a halt.

Yet you feel helpless simply sitting by his side, unable to offer much more than an encouraging smile and a few words of comfort. You want to do something. Make it up to him in some way. Repay your debt.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, calling your attention to him. He frowns when you look over. “I need to apologize to you.”

Instantly, you shake your head as you step back, almost as though trying to avoid his attempt. “No. You don’t. It was part of the ruse, I know. Harry told me.”

“Doesn’t matter. Speaking to you that way crosses a line, and I’d like to apologize for the harsh things I said—”

“Asher,” you exhale, glancing down toward the bandage on his chest to avoid his gaze. “You’re alive, and that’s all I care about. You had to sell it, you had to make him believe you were on his side.”

He sighs, but you can tell he’s not exactly convinced. “Even still, I promised to protect you. And I’m so sorry if I ever made you believe anything else.”

“Ash,” you say again, but there’s a long pause as you swallow a rather large lump. Desperately working to find the right words. “You did protect me. You protected both of us. And even if I didn’t know why at the time, deep down, I always trusted you. I know you. You’d never do anything to hurt me.”

He seems slightly relieved by your reassurance, but you can tell the regret goes deeper than a few apologies can reach. This isn’t your wound to tend to. It’s his.

You know both boys will wrestle with the choices they made for years to come. And despite how frustrated that makes you, it simply proves how much they care.

And you imagine, if the roles were reversed, you’d react about the same.

So, with great care, you surge forward and wrap your arms around Asher’s neck. Making sure to mind his injury as he laughs and allows you to bury him in your embrace.

“Don’t ever do that again,” you whisper, eyes falling shut as he slips his hand around the back of your neck. Keeping you close. “Seriously. I’ll kill you myself.”

He smiles. “It would be an honor to die by your hand.”

It’s a touching remark, yet even the thought makes your stomach wrench, and you nuzzle your face into his shoulder. “Ash?”

“Yeah?”

“…I love you.”

You feel him let out a deep breath before he holds you a bit tighter. “I love you, too, sweetheart.”

“But I mean it. Don’t ever do that again. Just…duck and run.”

He chuckles again as he releases you, forcing you to regretfully step back. “I’ll remember that.”

“You better,” Harry calls, pushing off the wall to come up behind you, hands finding your shoulders. “Especially now.”

Asher’s eyebrow raises.

You feel your pulse spike, hands gathering in front of your stomach while Harry squeezes your arms reassuringly.

“I’m taking her away,” Harry tells him, and there’s a heaviness to the way he speaks. “Somewhere outside of the states, somewhere they can’t find her. Where I can keep her safe. At least for a little while.”

Asher leans back, eyes flicking between you both as you look toward the floor.

You and Harry had discussed it at length before coming to see him. It wasn’t your first choice, and you knew it wasn’t a suggestion Harry made lightly.

But after a bit of back and forth, you realized it was the only way. He would do anything to keep you safe and he’d never know peace again until he could make that a reality for you.

And now after everything…he can. He can start over somewhere new. He can bring you the serenity he so desperately wants you to have.

And the serenity he so desperately deserves.

“You’re leaving,” Asher repeats slowly.

You press yourself back into Harry’s chest, wanting to disappear from the conversation, and the look of surprise on his face.

And the subtle trace of disappointment.

“Just for now,” Harry answers, and you glance over your shoulder to catch his solemn expression. “Maybe a year or two. Until there’s not such a large target on my back.”

Asher nods. “Yeah,” he murmurs before straightening up. “Good, yeah. I’ll clean things up here, and make sure the shipments are still on track.”

“Good,” Harry echoes before smiling down at you. “But I’m gonna need you to do a bit more than that.”

With a curious head tilt, Asher waits.

“I need you to take over until I get back,” Harry tells him, and you feel your breath catch. “Manage the imports and exports. Make sure the suppliers don’t fuck us over, and that everyone is doing their job. Handle the shit I can’t.”

You watch the realization settle, his eyes growing wide with intrigue and slight confusion. “Are you serious?”

Harry nods his chin at him. “Deadly,” he says with a wicked smirk. “Look, you know I don’t trust anybody else not to fuck this up while I’m gone. You’re the only one who can manage it and still keep me in the loop. You’re the only one who would do it the way I would.”

Asher smiles, and you can see years’ worth of memories and admiration pass between them.

So, you step aside, and allow Harry to move closer.

“You’re still a fucking idiot for pulling a gun on him like that,” he murmurs, making you both smile. “But I trust you, Ash. And I need you to do this for me. For both of us.”

Asher studies him for a moment, but you know he’s already decided. Know that they’d both do anything for each other.

“Of course,” he finally says, looking from Harry to you. “As long as you are coming back.”

Harry glances over to you as well. And he smiles. “Yeah. We’re coming back.”

You reach out to weave your fingers with his before looking to the man in the bed. “Promise you’ll be here when we do?”

Asher laughs again, and it’s a sound you’ve never been more grateful for.

“Fuck yeah,” he agrees, making the three of you smile. “Come on. Where else am I gonna go?”

And you grin wider than you have in weeks.

No matter where you move or where you stay, as long as you have them…

You’re finally home.

OKAY I KNOW THE ENDING WAS SAPPY, BUT I SWEAR THIS ISN'T THE END OF ASHER!!! JUST A CHANCE TO EXPLORE SOME OTHER THINGS!!! 😭💞💞💞

Credit for the amazing divider to @firefly-graphics 💞

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leossmoonn · 1 year

Text

All Along

masterlist

pairing - xavier thorpe x fem!reader

type - smut, fluff 16+

summary - coming to xavier for comfort, you get something else

warnings / includes - language, smut with plot!! (sorry not sorry) bsf to lovers, oblivious idiots in love, cheating, toxic relationship, semi soft sex, body worship, first time sex, unprotected sex (this is fiction, use protection in real life) alternate uni where xavier doesn’t like Wednesday (romantically)

————

*gif isn’t mine*

You wrap your arms around yourself tighter, sniffling as you walk through the forest. The leaves crunch under your sneakers, branches snapping with each stomp you make. You walk as fast as you can, needing some relief after the horrible fight you’ve just had.

Another argument sparked with your boyfriend. Surprised? No. Hurt? Yes. Annoyingly, so. Each fight seems worse, and no matter how redundant the topics are, your boyfriend manages to say worse things each time. You’re always left sobbing and alone.

But tonight you decided to reach out to the person who always told you to come to him when you needed a friend. You were going to see how well he was going to keep his word.

You softly knock on his door, shivering in the chilly night. You put your ear up to his door, hearing silence. You purse your lips and look back, debating whether or not to go. He doesn’t need to be bothered at this time of night. Not when it’s over relationship drama.

You begin to turn around, but you stop as you hear the door unlock. You turn back around, seeing Xavier in his pajamas and navy blue shirt. His hair is tousled and tangled, sticking up every which way.

“Y/n? What’re you doing here?” he asks, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

You let out a shaky breath, about to start crying again. Just thinking about your argument made you shed tears. You didn’t know how you were going to be able to articulate it.

Xavier becomes more alert as he sees a few tears run down your cheeks. He softly but firmly grabs your hand, pulling you into his dorm. He pulls you into a hug, wrapping his long arms around your back. You melt into him, thankful for the warmth and the comfort. You begin to cry more into his chest, hiccuping and snotting all over his robe.

He rubs your back soothingly, presses a light kiss to the crown of your head. The hand that’s not rubbing your back cradles the back of your head, holding you ever closer. You two stay there for a few good minutes before you are ready to pull away and speak.

Your throat is scratchy and your eyes bloodshot. Streaks of tears seem to be imprinted on your face. Your lips are puffy and swollen, some snot drying from the corners of your nostrils. But Xavier notices none of that. He cups your face, wiping the remaining tears with his thumb. His brows are furrowed as he looks back forth between your eyes, trying to conjure up his own explanation of why you’re crying in his arms at 2:28 AM.

“Let’s sit down,” he says softly, his voice hoarse from just waking up. He leads you to his bed, wrapping a blanket around you to keep you warm. He interlocks hands with you, keeping them warm. “What did he say to you?”

“Same old shit,” you sigh. “Accusing me, blaming me, shit-talking me, making rumors up about me.”

Xavier sighs heavily. You see him roll his eyes out from the corner of your eye.

“Did he hurt you?” he asks. “I mean, yeah. I’m crying,” you chuckle sourly.

“Did he touch you?” he clarifies. “No,” you shake your head. “You know he’s not like that.”

“He’s still an asshole,” he mutters. “Definitely,” you nod. “First he tells his buddies that I’m great in bed, then he accuses me of cheating, again. I mean, if he’s going to accuse me of something, he could at least change it up. Like I killed someone, or something,” you scoff.

Xavier chuckles a little. You glance at him and half smile.

“He shouldn’t be going around telling anybody about your business,” he states.

“I know, and I’ve told him. And he always promises he’ll shut up, but the next day I’m the talk of the school again!” you exclaim, frustrated.

Xavier thinks back to what he’s heard his peers say about you behind your back. Over-sexualizing you to the point where it makes him sick to his stomach. He would be lying if he said he had never thought about you sexually, but only briefly. Mostly in passing when he notices the nice dress you might be wearing, or if his mind wanders too far when he’s about to go to sleep. But the comments he hears are vile and disgusting. And especially since they are from your boyfriend who is supposed to be respecting your boundaries.

“I hope you know that when I hear those comments, I try to shut them down,” Xavier says.

Your smile now is bigger than the one before. “Really?”

“Yep,” he nods proudly. “I almost punched a guy once,” he admits.

“I appreciate it,” you pat his hand. “But you don’t need to be playing hero for me. This is my issue. My problem. My relationship.”

“Just because it’s your relationship doesn’t mean you can’t have help,” Xavier states.

You nod slowly and huff, your shoulder sagging. “But this is my own mess. I’m so stupid, Xavi.”

Xavier furrows his brows, squeezing your hand for support. “You’re not stupid.”

“Yes, I am. I mean, we fight and don’t talk to each other for a day. Then he says nice things to me and kisses me and… and I’m reminded of the guy that I fell I love with,” you mumble.

Your words are like a punch to the gut for Xavier. His hand that’s not holding yours balls into a fist, his knuckles becoming white. He wants to tell you to leave him. That this vicious cycle is toxic, but it’s nothing you don’t know already. Your boyfriend just has you under his ridiculous spell.

Maybe he could tell you. If you’ll allow him.

“Tell me if I’m overstepping, okay?” Xavier asks.

You nod and sit silently, anxious to hear what he has to say.

“Maybe he was never they guy you fell in love with. Have you ever thought that this guy who constantly is hurting you is the real him?”

This makes your heart drop. You feel sick to your stomach. You feel ridiculous now. Of course you have thought about that. This is what Wednesday told you after your second fight with him. But you stay with him because, well, you’re naive enough to fall for his apologies and sweet talk.

You’re so worthless, you think. So pathetic. Staying with a guy who is a piece of shit, and treats you like a bigger one. You can’t help but cry again.

Xavier’s eyes widens in panic. He regrets what he said. He knew he should have kept his mouth shut. You came to him looking for comfort, not advice. Not the truth. And now he’s made you do the one thing he swore he would never make you do: cry.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he mumbles, getting up and spinning in circles to try and find tissues.

“Xavier,” you call out, voice breaking. He ignores you, still trying to find those tissues and thinking of ways to make you feel better.

“Xavier,” you say louder. You groan as he still doesn’t face you. “Xavier!” you shout.

He spins around, box of tissues in his hand. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’re right. I know it, and you definitely do. It just.. sucks to hear,” you laugh breathily.

He nods, gulping hard. He sits back down next to you, holding out the tissues for you. You take them thankfully, blowing your nose and dabbing your eyes. You stay silent for a couple of minutes.

Xavier waits patiently for you to collect your thoughts, admiring you in the meantime. Your eyes are glassy from the tears, but you still have a spark in your eye that he loves to see. Your shirt, that’s ironically your boyfriend’s, hangs off of your shoulder slightly. Your leg bounces up and down as you twiddle with the hem of the shirt. In the dim light of his room, Xavier can see the dark circles under your eyes from the nights that he’s sure are full of screaming and crying instead of sleeping peacefully.

God, what he would to kiss you right now.

“I’ll end it with him tomorrow,” you decide.

Xavier’s eyes light up. He tries to contain the joy in his face, but fails embarrassingly. He grabs your hand that’s on your bed, squeezing it.

“I-I’m happy to hear that,” he stammers. “I know,” you chuckle. “You hate him.”

“Well, I can’t exactly like the guy that makes you feel like shit,” he snorts.

“Thank you for helping me,” you smile.

You hug him tightly, closing your eyes and burying your face into his shoulder. He quickly wraps his arms around you, holding you close to him. He kisses your forehead as you pull away. You smile softly, your breath becoming caught in your throat. You notice his eyes flutter down to your lips, eyeing them for a few moments. His hazel eyes meet yours. Even in the low light, you can see the golden brown flecks around his pupils.

His hand cups your cheek again, bringing your face closer. Your heart pounds in your chest. You can hear it in your ears. Your eyes frantically look over him, studying his body language. His other hand rests on your mid-thigh, warmth from his palm spreading to just below your waist.

“Xavier, what’re you doing?” you whisper.

“I…” he fails to get out the words. He’s so nervous, he can barely speak. He’s been waiting for this moment for a year now, as pathetic as it sounds.

“I thought you liked Wednesday,” you wonder.

Xavier’s brows raise and he pulls back. “Where did to get that idea?”

“You’re always following her around like a lost puppy. You even were excited about going to the Rave’N with her,” you explain.

“I was following her around because she found about my club, remember? And I wanted to get to know her more, but as friend. I don’t like her like that. Not like I like you,” he says. Saying that is like a weight has lifted off of his shoulders. Even if you don’t feel the same, which he is ready to accept, at least he is not carrying this huge secret with him. Maybe you two can still continue to be friends, too. He’d be willing to suck it up for you.

Your heart jumps with excitement. You never thought about Xavier liking you. Well, there was a tiny chance when you started dating your boyfriend. Xavier would hang around more, blatantly insult your boyfriend, try to get Ajax to stone him even. He stopped after a week or so once he realized you were serious about the guy. Not so say you weren’t, but you did miss Xavier’s efforts to get your attention.

But now you’re completely done with your boyfriend. You realize you’ve been for a while now. You’ve just been hanging on to whatever you thought you could still make work. It’s clear to you now that nothing could fix you, too, except for breaking up. That solution sounds very good. And to be frank, kissing Xavier sounds even better.

“Did I say too much?” Xavier asks, his voice a tiny bit above a whisper.

“No,” you shake your head, beginning to smile from ear to ear. “You’ve said just enough.” you bridge the gap between you two. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, your fingers sifting through his tousled hair. You bring your body up close to his, lightly pressing your chest against his.

He’s shocked and you can tell. He doesn’t reciprocate until you pull away. He brings you back, his arms holding you even closer. You sit up on your knees, taking a shallow breath as you move him to the middle of his bed. He crawls backwards until his back hits the backboard. You straddle his hips, feeling his boner up against your thigh.

Your hands slips down to his shirt, lifting it up slowly. He raises his arms, your kiss breaking for a few seconds before your lips meet again. Your teeth clash with each other, tongues tasting each other. The kiss is sloppy now, needy and fervent, but passionate.

You run your hands down his chest, his hot skin burning the palms of your hands. His hands snake under your boyfriend’s shirt, feeling your bare back. You place your hands at the bottom of your shirt, taking it off.

Xavier’s eyes practically bulge out of his head. Your tits sit so pretty, your nipples hard as a rock as the cold air nips them. He becomes impossibly harder, feeling the pre-cum soak the waistband of his underwear.

He doesn’t waste any time staring. He dives down and kisses your neck, sucking harshly on your smooth skin. He places sweet kisses along your shoulders, licking a trial down the valley between your breasts. He attaches his mouth to your nipple, raising his hand to massage your other boob.

“Enjoying yourself?” you snicker, your head tipping back in pleasure.

He looks up at you from your body, his lips sucking your boob. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

Your whole body feels like it’s on fire now. He smirks as he feels your body temperature rise. You smile shyly in reply. Without warning, he grabs your hips, lifting you up and flipping you two over. Your head hits the pillows, back sinking down into the mattress. You look up and see Xavier settling between your thighs. His hair cascades down his face, creating shadows over his cheeks.

Your run your hands through his hair, tucking the strands behind his ears. He smiles down at you, those smile lines you always loved so much creating ripples in his skin. His hands massage your sides, allowing you to relax even further into the bed.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/n. I don’t understand how someone could treat you so poorly. You deserve so much more,” he beams, gazing into your eyes.

You lean up to his ear, nibbling on the skin just below it. A thrill runs up his spine, his eyes fluttering close. “Show me, then,” you whisper.

His head is spinning and heart pounding. He nods excitedly, kissing down your stomach, leaving no skin untouched. You let out a breathy moan in need. You want him so bad it hurts. You squeeze your thighs together, trying to obtain the friction you’re craving. He notices how much you’re moving in bed, taking one hand to trail down to your pants. He looks up at you, his eyes meeting yours. His fingers hook under the waistband of your pants. You nod quickly, your own hands shooting down to your pants and practically ripping them off.

You kick off your pants onto the floor, leaving you almost naked. There’s a jolt of excitement that runs through his veins. His hands feels over your black panties, feeling a little wet spot right in the middle. His cock twitches in his pants as he thinks about how wet you must be, and all because of him.

Xavier picks the pace back up, trailing his lips down your stomach. You feel giddy as his lips get closer to your pussy. You feel the heartbeat between your legs, waiting painfully in anticipation for him to touch you.

He places a kiss over your underwear. You’re so pathetic you moan loudly. You buck your hips up, his nose bumping against your mound. He smiles against the fabric, bringing his head down lower to your thighs. He softly sucks your inner thighs, his hands creeping under your panties. His fingers part your pussy lips, slipping inside to feel the warm, slick center. He swallowed hard, throat becoming dry. You’re seeping juices out from your underwear and soaking his bedsheets.

You’re a little embarrassed. He hasn’t done much but kiss and touch you, and you’re already a mess. Despite your boyfriend bragging about you, you two barely ever had sex. And if you did, it wasn’t very good. Tonight was a big relief for you, especially since Xavier is doing so well, too. Your standards are so low, but you know that Xavier will raise them.

He slips two fingers inside, moving them in and out slowly. Your pussy makes a gushing noise, making him smirk up at you. He peers up at you from under his long lashes. You face feels hot as you see his cocky grin.

“You must really be desperate, huh?” he asks. His fingers go in deeper, moving up and down inside of you. He moves his body to tower over you, no wavering in his hand movements. His head hangs down next to your ear. His hair tickles your cheek. Your laugh and moan at the same time, his fingers fucking you feeling so good.

“Let me guess, he doesn’t pleasure you this well, huh?” he whispers.

“Mm-hm,” you shake your head. His other hand is on your thigh. He moves it down to your underwear, slipping under the top and finding your clit with ease. One of your hands flies up to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.

“Fuck, Xavier,” you say breathily. “Shit. Ah… ah, Xavier,” you moan. “Need more,” you whine.

You bring your other hand down between you two, tugging on the drawstring of his pants. Xavier pulls away, getting off the bed and taking off his underwear and pants.

You knew him being 6’2” would give him some length. His cock is an angry red, pre-cum leaking down and coating the sides. Your mind runs wild with how he’ll feel inside of you.

You take off your underwear, leaving both of you naked. He climbs back into the bed, sitting between your thighs. You place your hand on the back of his neck, your fingers entangling themselves in his hair. You bring his head down to yours, kissing him slowly. His heart flutters, ears turning pink as he becomes flustered. Your hand snakes down between you two, wrapping around his dick and giving him a few pumps. The pre-cum runs down your hand and drips onto your thighs.

“Wait,” he pulls away. “Do you not want to do this?” you ask, ready to get out of bed and put your panties back on.

“No, I do. Trust me, I… I really want to. But this is my first time,” he confesses.

You smile brightly, gently taking his hand and intertwining your fingers with his. “It’ll be mine, too.”

He furrows his brows. “I-I thought —?”

“Yeah, I never allowed him to go that far,” you chuckle. “I was waiting for someone special,” you grin, rubbing your thumb across his knuckles.

Pride fills his chest. He can’t wipe the smile off of his face. His cheeks already hurt from smiling so hard. He squeezes your hand, diving down to kiss you. You both are smiling, unable to properly kiss each other. He rests his forehead onto yours, looking into your eyes.

“I’ll go slow. Tell me if it hurts or anything, okay?” he asks.

You nod, spreading your legs. You try to relax as much as you can, but you’re too excited. You’ve always liked Xavier. You’ve always loved him. There’s no doubt in your mind he’s the right person for you, the right person to do this with.

He parts your pussy with his tip, slowly sliding in. Your nails dig into his hand and bicep. You bite your lip harshly, almost drawling blood.

“You okay?” he asks. “Mmhm,” you nod. You take a big deep breath in and out as he continues. “Stop, stop. I-I don’t think I can have you go any further.”

He nods in understanding, kissing your cheek sweetly. “Feels so good to me, anyways. No matter how much of me is inside.”

You giggle at his kind words, capturing his lips into a kiss once more. He slips out of you and slowly enters you, the small amount of friction making him moan in your mouth. One of his hands rests behind your head while the other goes down between you two, finding your clit. You let out a whiny moan, grabbing onto his skin.

He picks up the pace each second and you get more acquainted with his size.

“More,” you demand. He doesn’t question it, slipping another inch into you.

Your toes curl at the end of the bed. You plant your feet into the mattress, bucking your hips up to meet his. You both groan loudly, Xavier’s eyes rolling back while your head tilts back into the pillows, breaking the kiss.

“You feel so good, fuck,” he mumbles. He opens his eyes, looking down and watching as his dick exits and enters you. His pre-cum mixes with your juices, making a sloshing sound.

“Mm, Xavier. Right here,” you gasp. You buck your hips back up, his dick hitting your g-spot with just enough pressure. “Shit. Ju-just like that. Yeah, yeah. Ah, ah! Xavier!” you shout.

His thumb that’s on your clit circles it faster, his hips snapping with yours. Your muscles clench around him, and he’s almost done for. He doesn’t want to come until you do, though. He’s determined.

Your fingers scrap down his back, your body arching. Your chest meets his, the sweat from both your bodies mixing. Xavier presses his lips to yours in a messy, wet, hot kiss. His hot breath fans over the side of your mouth, his teeth clashing with yours.

“Xavi, I’m close,” you moan, eyes screwing shut. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop. D-Don’t change anything. Ah, fuck.”

He keeps the exact same pressure and pace, looking down at your face. You look so beautiful when about to come. Your jaw dropped with sweat lining your neck. Your eyes are rolled back, head digging into the pillows.

“Xavier, I’m gonna, I’m gonna come! I-I’m gonna —!”

You muscles tense up and you feel the pressure lifting off of your tummy.

“Oh, fuck, Y/n,” he groans, gripping the pillow next to your head. He pulls out quickly, his whole body shaking as he comes. He manages to turn his body to the side, getting a little bit of cum on your thigh.

“S-sorry,” he stammers, quickly getting a tissue and wiping your thigh.

“No worries,” you smile. “Are you, uh, on birth control?” Xavier asks, still a little breathless.

“Yes,” you nod. “If I wasn’t, I would’ve asked for a condom.”

He smiles and nods, “right.” he puts his underwear and pants back on. He grabs your clothes, setting them on the bed next to you. “Would you like some water? Or a snack?”

“I would love some water, thank you.” you nod. You take your clothes and head to the bathroom. Xavier jogs over to you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you back.

“Do you feel okay?” he asks. “Yes. I feel a little sore, but I’ll be okay,” you answer.

“Okay,” he grins. He leans down and pecks your cheek and forehead. “I love you.”

You sigh happily and wrap your arms around him, hugging him tightly. “I love you.“

He kisses the side of your head before pulling away. “What if your boyfriend finds out?”

“He’ll be my ex by then,” you shrug. “And I’ll be able to make up rumors about him. Like how he’s so bad and that’s why I went to you,” you wink.

Xavier smirks, “he’ll be pissed.”

“Mm, good,” you hum. You lean up and kiss him. “He deserves it.”

————

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#xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe smut #xavier thorpe x reader smut #xavier thorpe fluff #xavier thorpe angst #xavier thorpe x reader fluff #xavier thorpe x reader angst #wednesday #wednesday show #sara.nsfw

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sturniolosstar · 3 months

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can you write a cg & little scenario for angel?

i love your work, thank you 🙏🙏

little one

c.sturniolo & m.sturniolo

cw - fluff, crying, age regression, pet names, stockholm syndrome, female reader, third person pov, readers pov, angel’s au

You’re their angel again, that’s what they’ve been saying for the past week.

A week.

It’s been a week since you’ve been with them. Seven days since they took you and cared for you.

Every morning you come downstairs, breakfast is set on the table. Every time you run out of a product, a new one is on your vanity within an hour. Every night when the three of you are on the couch, they let you pick whatever movie interests you and watch without complaints, holding you close to them as a reminder that they’re your safe space.

They’ve been babying you, taking care of you, showering you with acts and words of affection at every chance they get. And you can’t help the way your mind gets all fuzzy afterwards.

You love the way they hold you, caress you and kiss you, making sure you’re comfortable and happy every second of the day. Anything you ask for, they comply to because you’ve been good.

A week has officially finished, and it’s now the first day of the second week.

And the fuzziness in your mind can’t help but grow. You don’t know what the feeling is, but you love it. Your heart flutters and your mind melts whenever they give you the affection you crave, the affection that initiates the feeling in your little head.

———————————————————————————

readers pov

I’m crying.

I don’t even know why, but I am.

I woke up and felt icky. I couldn’t even bring myself to go downstairs and to face Chris and Matt, no matter how much my body and mind is screaming for them.

I’ve been dependent on them for a while now, and I can’t seem to put a finger on why because everytime I try to think about it, my mind gets this fuzzy feeling, like it’s slipping somewhere else.

My room door opens and I see my two boys standing in the door way, their faces seem to drop when they see the current state I’m in. And that seemed to be my last straw before I started sobbing.

“Hey- hey, angel. You’re okay.” Matt sits down next to me on the bed, and Chris stands next to it, both of them staring down at me.

I shake my head no. It’s not okay. I don’t know what isn’t, but it’s not.

“What’s bothering you?” Chris kneels down

“I- I don’t know.” I whisper, because it’s true. I genuinely don’t know what’s causing me to cry, I don’t know what’s causing me to feel like this.

“You don’t know?”

“My head feels all fuzzy everytime you guys are near and everytime I try to think my mind doesn’t work- I don’t know!” My mouth can’t seem to hold up with the pace of the thoughts flowing through my mind and I’m not even sure they understood what I said with the way I worded it.

I can barely see with the way tears are steaming down my cheeks and the way they fill my waterline but I could make out the way they looked at each other. A look of realisation.

“Oh, honey. That’s okay.” Matt smiles, his arm wrapping around my waist as his thumb gently caress my hip, making my muscles relax.

The fuzzy feeling my body and head seemed to crave came back.

My mind came to an ease, my thoughts slowing down as my breathing evened and my tears stopped.

They smiled at this. Matt kissed the top of my head as Chris grabbed my hand, intertwining my fingers with his own.

———————————————————————————

I can’t help the giggles that escape my mouth as I run downstairs, Chris and Matt chasing after me as they laugh with me.

I can’t even make it to the living room before Matt comes up behind me and grabs me, spinning me around to stop me from running which causes me to squeal.

He smiles down at me as we both laugh, Chris coming to stand next to him as he looks me.

“Y’know we love you.”

I smile and nod, causing both of them to kiss the top of my head, the same way they do every time I slip into this mindset.

I don’t know what it is, how it works or how it even happens, but that’s the least of my worries. It doesn’t even worry me at all with the way I’m taken care of.

On top of the kindness they spoil me with everyday, it seems to get even better when I’m little.

They’re more than just being my boyfriends, they’re my caregivers. They care for me in ways I didn’t even know I needed and I wouldn’t change that for the world.

———————————————————————————

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#sturniolosstar #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x reader

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pupyuj · 3 months

Note

im ngl overstimulated yujin has me stuttering

combining these two asks cuz why not! anyways atp i’m looking like i genuinely believe yujin has a dick bcs i almost never write about yuj w a cooch anymore (yuj cooch enthusiasts i will deliver soon do NAWT worry) but listen … she does have a dick and i know bcs she’s constantly slamming it inside m—[STATIC]

(p.s. i think it’s way too obvious that i enjoyed this a lot pls i loooveee yujin sm don’t look at me like thatttt)

we all agree that yujin has crazy stamina and even if she’s exhausted, the feeling of being inside you is just too good that she never really pulls out after the two of you finish :(( if she could, baby would be inside you all the time really! you always wondered how much yujin could take before she’s crying and pleading for mercy… it’s about time that you’re the one who has her whimpering and getting all limp after all! 😵‍💫

binding her to a soft, comfortable chair and letting her keep at least her shirt on bcs you’re not gonna lie, your shirt looked way too good on her 😍 you’d start slow with a cute little handjob and for a while it’d look like just another friday night of good fucking for the two of you but yujin notices what you were up to when she was three orgasms deep and you still haven’t taken her dick down your throat or inside you! i’d love to think that she’d start squirming! yuj is used to being the one who does all the teasing and the cruel ‘make her cry all night by pulling eight orgasms out of her in a matter of an hour’ game—not the other way around!

baby’s never been overstimulated… a part of her would be excited, but mostly she’d be terrified bcs what if she embarrasses herself! :(( her pride wouldn’t let her go down without a fight.. she’d try to get control but you wouldn’t budge of course.. this was a once in a blue moon opportunity! you have to see yujin beg helplessly for you to stop 🥺🥺

“hm.. don’t dry out so quick, baby… you still have to fill me up, remember?” you’d whisper in her ear while tears well up in her eyes after her sixth orgasm 🫣 her legs shaking, dick twitching in your hand… i love to think about how she’d bite her lip to not be too loud but ending up failing and cutting her lip on the process oh the poor girl 💔 kissing down her neck and whispering the nastiest, most degrading things in her while you gear her up for another climax… yujin really doesn’t know if she should be turned on or humiliated but either way, one of those feelings was the one making her cum so—

ah it’d be soooo messy too?:!;!/&,& your entire hand would be drenched with her cum and every time you lick it up it only makes yujin’s dick go stiff again,, it’s impressive really! how she’s still able to keep cumming so much 😵‍💫 “good puppy, you just know what mommy wants from you, huh?” oh yujinnie would go insane 🤤🤤 you’d think she’d start resisting and acting all bratty but nooo puppy loves to get praised! sure she hated the humiliating aspect of it all (…or did she?) but one “good girl” and her brain just goes all dumb for you 🥺💕

seeing her pretty, shiny eyes all glossed up with tears once you decided to have a taste of her cum directly from the source… god you’d only have her tip in your mouth and she’d already be thrashing around and shaking her head bcs yujinnie was so sensitive at that point :(( sobbing pathetically and moaning at the pleasure at the same time.. loving how she was so obviously torn between wanting to break free of her restraints to stop you or to finish what you started and fuck you to oblivion… yujinnie will get her fun later but right now, it was time for yours 🥰

taking in all of her dick down your throat in one fell swoop and yujin’s screaming in the air with her eyes nearly rolled back 😵‍💫 ugh the sight of her dick disappearing inside your mouth flawlessy every now and again only made things worse.. she has to fuck you and breed you until she was empty :(( it wouldn’t take long for her to cum again.. but at least this time not a drop was wasted! you made sure to swallow it all, just how she liked to see it 🤭 it would be her eleventh orgasm and poor puppy would be so tired ☹️ chest heaving up and down, sobbing softly while still struggling to break free… and now you feel bad! 😔

“i know, baby.. sorry i went overboard, i know…” you’d whisper while spooning her on your bed, making up for all your meanness with your awesome aftercare 🥺 yujinnie would be so cute all cuddled up to your side, face buried in your chest where it was warm… and you’d think that she would be too tired to even keep her eyes open but nope! the second you let down your guard, yujin would be rolling on top of you and pinnjng your hands above your head, grinning down at you like the sick pervert that was 🤭🤭

“your turn. make daddy happy now.”

don’t you just love switches?? 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

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riseofamoonycake · 5 months

Note

Hi hellos- like hear me out on this.

Anubis loves his s/o (whether they be a human or a god, HE DOES NOT CARE) so much like not even someone who can disguse themselves (COUGH LOKI COUGH) can fool him cause doggo knows them so much especially on how they give him the cuddles, pets and etc he likes (Pretty sure this doggo of a god knows s/o's scent as well BUT THATS FOR ANOTHER ASK)

So imagine: Loki being the lil mischevious shit he his decided to try and prank on Anubis by disgusing as his S/O (who is currently doing smth important). Cue the egyptian doggo saw the imposter s/o and pounce on them excitedly until he sense something was off, Loki/imposter s/o tried to feign innocence asking if there was something wrong but Anubis started snarling and barking yelling angrily at the imposter s/o. Then his real s/o walks in and sees this and was confused as hell but Anubis quickly gets off the imposter and hugs them while sobbing in a childish manner cause he thought they got replaced (They were gone for an hour cause of a meeting)

AND.... That's it. Ending is up to you or the readers as I ran out

I just wanna share this after reading your writing about Anubis fjjahfhs (I am now Anubis trash as well. Good doggo energy is best doggo)

If It’s Not You, Not Anyone

💝Pairing: Anubis x Gn!reader

💝Warnings: suggestive

💝

No matter what may happen, what stratagem you employ and how intelligent you are: Anubis could recognize your steps, heartbeats, smell, even the rhythm of your breathing, among thousands of people and miles away, and without even concentrating. He has spent too much time at your side and at your feet, courting you, playing with you, laughing and teasing you in every possible way imaginable, that he has not become so attached to you, his tender, gentle and calm lover, that he doesn’t know how to live without them. No one smiles with the same sweetness and tranquility as you, and at the same time knows how to put a stop to the chaos when it becomes too much, becoming even severe; no one caresses with the same warmth and abandons themself to his cuddles, even when these are too intense and become scratches; and no one moans and screams as much as you do when his tongue explores you, only to be followed by expert fangs with which marking you.

Therefore, you would never have any possibility of hiding anything from him, even for fun; and if you know this well, there are those who are completely unaware of it.

For this reason, when today Anubis saw you enter the house that you have shared for years and immediately ran to you for the hugs and kisses that can never be missed, the god suddenly stopped, scrutinizing the figure in front of him with a suddenly pale face. and a restless shadow that immediately descends upon it; he didn’t react when you smiled at him, calling him sweetly and giving him a quick kiss on the forehead and another on the nose, nor did he reply when you tickled him under the chin and squeezed his cheeks; instead, he sniffed your hand, licked it quickly, and immediately drew back with a half-bark, baring his canines while, if possible, the claws on his hands and feet became even longer and more arched, and he assumed an attack position that would have worried even fearless warriors.

… Because, whoever that person is and whatever the reason why he or she is physically the same as you, in truth it is not you.

«… Huh? Honey, is something wrong?»

Anubis didn’t respond immediately, continuing to stare at your simulacrum with anger, fear and confusion at the same time, and after a few moments he shouted: «Who are you?»

«But… love, is everything okay? Do you not recognize me? It’s me!»

The god shook his head, baring his teeth even more at the surprised expression of the other part, then his tone of voice raised: «I’m not crazy! I could recognize my love anywhere, and you are not Y/N! Who are you? Who are you? What did you do to Y/N? Speak, or I’ll make you spit it all out in bites!» And without even waiting, the god threw himself at the figure, forcing it to flee through the rooms of the house, pursued relentlessly. «Tell me! What happened to Y/N? Why did you take Y/N form? TELL ME!»

The chaos that Anubis unleashed then and still unleashes is audible everywhere, no one within a few kilometers is immune to his screams; but luckily for the entire house and also for those who have decided to target both of you and take on your appearance, just when the worst is about to happen, the door opens and you, the real you, enter the house, disturbed by the cries of the god. «Treasure? I’m back… what’s happening?»

You don’t even have time to finish speaking before Anubis comes tumbling towards you and throws himself into your arms crying like a desperate man, hugging your waist and hiding his face inside your chest. «Y/N! BUUUUAHHHH, IT’S YOU! IT’S REALLY YOU!»

«Awwww, silly, who did you think I was?» You hug Anubis warmly and rub your nose against his forehead, then lift your face to look at him, your adorable puppy. «Can you explain to me what’s happening? Are you hurt?»

Anubis sniffs like a child, looking at you with big eyes full of adoration and relief, and then turns his head and fixes his gaze on a corner of the room, starting to growl menacingly.

You follow his eyes, and notice a figure exactly like you huddled against the wall, scared of Anubis’ reaction ― or so it seems. You remain silent for a moment, studying your lookalike, then you snort slightly, narrowing your eyes, and pat your lover’s head as you smile. «That’s why you weren’t at the meeting! Then you have to explain to your uncle the reason why you were absent, unless I have to tell him something in advance. You had a rough time… didn’t you, Loki?»

With a laugh, the body of your copy mutates and changes shape, and after a few moments in its place is the God of Deception, who floats in the air and winks in your direction, showing off his most mischievous expression and also the long tongue. «Not at all, sweet Y/N, not at all! I know Nubby would never bite me, you were just joking, weren’t you, Nubby?»

You giggle when you hear Anubis explode and bark an insult so flowery it would make anyone blush, so you stroke Anubis’ braid and scratch the back of his neck with your nails. «Oh, really, Loki? Okay, so why don’t you come closer? Feel free to stay for dinner with us⁓»

«I would, sweetie, but unlike you, I’m a very busy god, the fun never stops⁓⁓ so I think I’ll leave you to your guard dog.»

You raise an eyebrow, unbothered, and cross your arms over your chest, grinning sarcastically. «Ah-ha. Be careful not to bite your tongue while speaking, or you risk dying of your own poison. Not that seeing you writhing in agony isn’t a fun scene, right, my love?»

Loki grimaces in annoyance and mockery, then looks away. «And to think that you should be the sweet part of the couple…», he comments in a low voice, and then waves his hand and takes leave of you, «well, take care of me. Boring…»

«Good evening to you, Loki! Choose better who to deceive, next time!», you reply while waving both arms in greeting, then dedicating all your attention to Anubis, crouched at your feet and contemplating you. «And you, are you still scared?», you murmur sweetly, kneeling in front of him and welcoming him into your arms.

«Yes», Anubis replies, pressing himself against your body and hugging your neck as you lift him up and carry him to the bedroom. He gets your kisses covering his whole face, then stops you: «You don’t… you don’t want to punish Loki. Don’t you want revenge?», he asks you, peering into your soul with his big golden eyes.

You smile, then rub your nose and cheeks against his. «And waste time chasing that scoundrel when I can dedicate myself entirely to my faithful and tender Anubis? I wouldn’t say so⁓» You freeze, then the smile turns into a grin. «But, if that’s what you want, I…»

«NO! STAY HERE!» Anubis is so quick to grab you and bury his head in your lap that you can’t help but burst out laughing, so you massage his shoulders and then hug him tightly, your eyes shining with the love you feel. «Don’t worry, darling, I’m not going anywhere! There’s someone who needs my cuddles⁓», you murmur in his ear, while you feel his hands becoming bolder and clinging to your hips, and then moving down towards your inner thighs. Surely, for a few hours if not more, Loki will not be in your thoughts…

#record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #ror #snv #ror loki #snv loki #shuumatsu no valkyrie loki #record of ragnarok loki #record of ragnarok anubis #ror anubis #snv anubis #shuumatsu no valkyrie anubis

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heavyhitterheaux · 3 months

Text

Ghost Part 4

AN: 💕

Synopsis: The two of you have finally gotten on the same page regarding Ace and Jack has shown you that he's all in when it comes to his and Ace's relationship. However, he ends up taking one step forward and a hundred steps backward when your safety is compromised

Pairing: Jack Harlow x Reader

Read Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3 first

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Sitting in your car in front of your apartment building, you let out a loud sob that you had been holding in since the judge had made her decision.You were confident that she would rule in your favor, but the only thing or person on your mind rather was Ace.

He had gotten so used to seeing Jack often that you weren't quite sure how he was going to adjust to only being able to see him every other weekend. And you didn't know the first step in how to explain that to him and more than likely he probably wouldn't even understand. This was the last thing you wanted to ever happen, and you thought for sure that Jack would meet you halfway in order to do what was best for Ace, but once again his pride got in the way.

You had lost track of time and didn't know how long you were sitting in your car crying when you grabbed a tissue from your purse in order to wipe your face and make yourself look a bit more presentable. Blaire wasn't going to bring Ace back until later in the day and you still had some time to kill. It was simply decided that you would get into some comfy clothes and watch Disney plus because you figured that was probably the only thing that could somewhat lift your mood.

Before you started watching anything, you sent a simple message to the group chat since you knew that they had been waiting to hear from you.

You- I got full custody of Ace

Blaire- 👀👀👀

Nadia- As you should. What them child support payments looking like?

You- 40,000 a month

Liv- DAMN he actually got lucky. For a celebrity, I’ve heard of people paying a lot more than that.

Blaire- But how are you feeling overall?

You- Sad for Jack believe it or not

Liv- He got what was coming to him smh I don’t feel bad because he brought this on himself

Nadia- I second that

You- But now I have to tell Ace and I don’t know how he’s going to take it

Jack was in a daze driving home from the courthouse and the realization was hitting him that he didn't do anything but make things more complicated for himself. He had now driven a bigger wedge in between the two of you and knew deep down that no matter how much he apologized to you that it wouldn't be enough. He wanted to have a relationship with his son, but also wanted to have a healthy relationship with you too and at this point even getting you to talk to him was going to be a challenge.

He had gotten home and didn't realize that Clay had been following him and pulled up behind his car in the driveway. Jack sighed to himself not wanting to hear him say ‘I told you so’ again since he had a feeling that he would never let him live this down. He knows that he fucked up and doesn’t need to hear it over and over again.

Once he stepped out of the car, Clay was next to him with his hands stuffed in his pockets and simply looked at him.

“Clay, not now. Please not now.” Jack said as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I'm just here for support. What just happened was a lot to take in and even though you've been treating me like shit the last few months, you're still my big brother and I still care about how you’re feeling.”

“I know and I'm sorry. I just… There isn't any excuse for the way I've been acting and treating you as if you're not important to me when you know that you are. I just want that close relationship that you have with Ace and I’m jealous of it and not afraid to admit it. You've been in his life since he was four weeks old and I can't say the same thing. Y/N is never going to forgive me now. I wish I would have talked to her when she gave me the chance.”

“That is literally all she has wanted from the very beginning. She never wanted it to get to this point and she actually low key thinks that you hate her.” Clay quietly said as they both walked into Jack’s house.

“What? I could never hate her. I don't hate her. Why would she think that? Never mind, don't answer that. I… get it.”

“And you failed to realize how this would affect Ace because he's the one that's at the center of this whole thing.”

“And now I can't even see him how I want to.”

“You now have to make it up to not only Ace but Y/N too.”

“And I don't have any idea on where to start.”

“You already know what you need to do and no one should have to tell you that. You can start by being the best father you can possibly be to Ace. This isn't rocket science, but you damn sure know how to make things more complicated. Are we sure that you’re even the older one at this point?” Clay asked while smirking and Jack gave him a small smirk in return and shrugged his shoulders.

Jack's mood had been off for the rest of the time that had passed until it was his weekend with Ace and he wanted to get himself together before you dropped him off. But he just couldn't shake this being his new reality. He knew now that he should have talked to you and simply let you explain, but his thoughts of you moving and taking Ace flooded his mind and that was the only thing that he could think of. But all in all, he just made a bigger mess.

He had sent you multiple text messages with you responding in ten words or less and it wasn’t because you were being mean or trying to spite him, you genuinely had no idea what to say to him at this point. Until you did, there was no reason for you to give him a longer response.

It was a little awkward when the person supervising the visit, Britney showed up at his house ten minutes before you were going to drop Ace off and knew that he had to prove to her and to the court that he could take care of Ace and take care of him properly. But most importantly, he wanted to prove it to you.

Once he saw your car pull up, he went outside to meet the two of you as you were helping Ace out of the back of the car. You were grabbing Ace’s backpack that had all of his toys (and told him that he could only bring three because Jack had an entire playroom in his house specifically for him) and clothes when you heard his voice.

“Hi Y/N.”

“Hi.” You responded while barely looking at him and took a deep breath before continuing to talk.

“His clothes, shoes, and toys are in here and I'll come and get him Sunday at 5.” Was all you said as you handed him Ace’s backpack and Ace was simply looking between the two of you.

“Um, okay.”

“Make sure he's ready by then for me to come and get him. Okay, Ace, give me kisses.”

You kneeled down to his height and he immediately embraced you and it seemed as if he was holding onto you as if he didn't want you to leave.

“Mommy, can you stay?” Ace asked as he pulled away from you.

“Ace, you're going to have fun with daddy and I'll see you in two days, promise.”

“And we can call mommy before you go to sleep.” Jack chimed in with an attempt to make it less awkward, but he knew that this was probably going to take a while.

“Will you sing to me when I do?” Ace asked, looking at you hopeful. Just about every single night, after the two of you read a book, you would sing him to sleep.

“Of course. Anything for my baby boy.”

—

“Daddy, you okay?” Ace asked Jack as he looked over at him and saw that he was staring off into space when they were supposed to be baking brownies. Peanut butter and chocolate, which he learned how to make from you which had now become his favorite.

“Oh, I'm fine. Now let's get this batter in the pan so we can watch a movie.” Jack answered as he ruffled Ace's curly hair that resembled his.

“Can we watch Cars!?”

“Of course we can and when our brownies are done, we have ice cream to go with them.”

“But you still look sad. Are you sad about mommy?” Hearing Ace say that made Jack's breath hitch and he simply sighed before saying anything else. To only be three almost four, Ace was incredibly smart and picked up on a lot of things that went on around him.

“You definitely notice everything, don't you?” He asked as Ace simply smiled and nodded.

“I hurt her and I don't think that she's ever going to forgive me.”

“Just say sorry. That should make it all better. Mommy has a big heart like me.”

“That she does, but I don't think that's going to be enough.”

“Well, I still think you should try.”

“Ace….”

“For me?” Ace asked while looking up at his father with eyes that resembled his.

“Now you know that I have a hard time telling you no. And stop with the puppy dog eyes!”

“So you’ll do it!?”

“I’ll try for you.”

The next few months came and went with the celebration of Ace turning four, and Jack having to do more and more appearances and fly around the country. When that happened, Ace would just stay with you until the next weekend that he was able to come and get him once he was back in Louisville, since he wasn’t allowed to take him across state lines yet. It was Friday afternoon and you were cleaning up your classroom as Ace was sitting at one of the tables coloring when he suddenly asked you about Jack.

“Mommy…”

“Yes?”

“Can daddy come over for a movie night?” He asked while turning around to look at you.

“Um, Ace we have to see. Daddy might be busy.” You said while grabbing your purse from underneath the desk and taking out your keys.

“Can we call him?”

“Sure, we can call him once we get outside in the car. Come here so I can help you put your jacket on. We can finish coloring at home.”

Ace was secured in the back of the car when you slid into the driver’s seat and attempted to turn the car on. The only problem was that it wouldn’t.

“You can’t be serious right now.” You muttered to yourself as you lightly laid your head on the steering wheel. Liv had taken a half day today in order to go to a few doctor’s appointments so you know that you couldn’t call her. Nadia would still be at work, and Blaire didn’t close the bakery until seven.

So, that left one person.

Jack.

You sighed as you dialed his number and he picked up on the second ring.

“Hello? Y/N? Are you okay? Is Ace okay?”

“Hey, we’re fine. But I need a favor. Are you at home?” You mumbled because you didn’t like asking him for help, but at this point you needed it.

“Of course. Yeah, I just got back in. What’s going on?” Jack asked as he was looking for the Chinese take out menu from his favorite spot.

“I’m at work with Ace and my car decided that it doesn’t want to start.”

“Say less. Drop me the location and I’ll come get both of you.”

“Thank you, I’m sorry to ask, but….”

“No need to apologize. I’m on my way now.”

It took less than twenty minutes and you finally saw Jack’s jeep pull up beside you and this made Ace yell in excitement.

“Looks like you get to see daddy after all, huh?” You said as you peeked at him in the backseat and he excitedly nodded towards you.

Jack hopped out while coming over to you and opening your door.

“Thank you again for doing this.” You said and Jack simply waved you off.

“It’s not a big deal, Y/N.”

“I didn’t take you away from anything did I?”

Jack immediately shook his head no as he opened the back door and unstrapped Ace from his car seat and picked him up.

“Hi daddy. I told mommy to call you because I missed you.”

“I missed you too, bubs.” Jack answered before kissing his cheek and putting him in

His car seat in the back of his jeep. Jack then opened the passenger side door and helped you up, while putting your purse and work bag in the backseat. Once he slid in the driver’s seat, he started making his way back to your apartment.

“Daddy, I’m hungry.”

“What do you want to eat? I was actually going to order Chinese food for dinner. Did you want that?”

“Yes! I want an egg roll!”

Only now you noticed that he was going in the opposite direction.

“Umm? Jack? My apartment is that way.”

“I know.”

“Then where are we going?”

“I want to show you something and I figured that this was a good time in order to do it.”

He glanced over at you and saw the look on your face and couldn’t help but to laugh.

“No kidnapping involved, promise.”

It was another fifteen minutes when you noticed that all of you were literally a few streets over from where Jack’s house was. He then pulled in front of a modern looking house and it looked as if it had just been built and no one had the chance to live in it quite yet. You looked around and saw that there were others similar to it and that it looked like they were building more.

“Jack? What is this? Where are we?” You asked not having the slightest clue on what was going on.

“This is your house.”

Your eyes went wide as you looked at him in disbelief. You looked out the window at the house before looking back at him and was clearly confused.

“I…”

“I don’t want you two in that neighborhood anymore because it’s not the safest. This way, Ace can go outside and play all he wants and I don’t have to worry about you two not being in a safe environment. This is a gated community so unless you have the passcode, you can’t get in.”

“Jack….. You bought us a house?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t accept this, how in the world am I going to pay for it?” You asked as a million things started going through your mind.

“No one said you had to pay for anything. You need more space, even if it’s just the two of you.”

“But….”

“Y/N, it’s a gift. No strings attached. It’s fully furnished and everything.”

You sat there for a minute before glancing back at Ace who was too busy playing with one of his toys to notice you.

“Come on, let’s go inside so you can at least look at it.” He said while holding up the keys and smiling at you.

“Is this a ploy to get me to stay in Louisville?” You asked, suddenly getting defensive because of his previous actions.

“No, not in the slightest. If that’s what you eventually want to do, then okay but this house will still be here and still be yours. Just while you’re here I figured that the two of you should be as comfortable as possible. And also that you would have probably said no if I asked the two of you to move in with me so it would be safer knowing that you would probably want your own space. You don’t have to move in immediately, but come on so we can at least look at it.”

“Okay.” You quietly said before taking off your seatbelt and getting out the car as Jack did the same thing while tending to Ace after.

All three of you walked through the house and you were in awe. Ace’s bedroom had a Louisville Cardinal theme since that happened to be his favorite team right along with his dad, while your room had a black and gray theme. Ace had his own playroom filled with toys and even a mini kitchen with a working stove that was perfect for his height.

“Ace, don’t you like this house and want to live here with mommy?” Jack asked as Ace had begun examining the stove and the little apron that was hanging to the side that had his name on it which was similar to the one that you bought for him.

“Yes! I like it.”

All Jack did was look at you, but you still had hesitations in the back of your mind. It was true that you and Jack were growing close again and working on being good co-parents to Ace, but you couldn’t take him possibly doing something to mess all of this up all over again. Before either of you made a decision regarding him, you would call each other and discuss it first. This just seemed all too much for you and you were overwhelmed.

You remained quiet as Jack simply laid the keys in your hand and closed it.

“Whenever you’re ready, there is absolutely no rush. Please understand that. And also understand that I’m trying to do my best to make up for what I’ve done or what I haven’t done rather. I just want to do right by the two of you.” He whispered so that only the two of you could hear and all you did was nod in response before Jack went to scoop Ace up in his arms.

“Bubs, you ready to go to daddy’s house and eat Chinese food?”

“As long as we watch Cars!”

“Uh? Again?”

“This is nothing compared to his Lion King phase.” You muttered as all three of you made your way back downstairs.

“Oh, one last thing. Let’s go this way.” Jack then led you both in the direction of the garage and your jaw dropped once you set foot in it.

“Didn’t realize that your car was going to give out on you today, but… surprise.” was all Jack said as you were now staring at a BMW SUV. When you and Jack had first started talking, you told him that this was the car that you eventually wanted to buy for yourself and had no idea that he actually remembered.

“Jack….”

He didn’t say anything and instead slipped his hand in his back pocket to get the keys and hand them to you.

“Ace can ride with me while you test out your new car.”

About another month had passed and the temperature was beginning to warm up and you couldn’t wait to be able to take Ace out all summer and was trying to think of where you wanted to go and wanted to do. You also made sure to include Jack in your plans if he wasn’t too busy. You had the night to yourself since Ace was with Jack and you were currently fiddling the house key in your hands that Jack had bought you. He told you that it was no rush and you were deciding to take your sweet time. As far as the lease for your apartment went, Jack said if you wanted to break it, he would pay for it. But at this point in time, you feel that he already did so much for you already and would probably just ride it out until it was time for it to be renewed again. However, just about every day after you were finished teaching, you would take the long way home to pass by it.

It was around midnight when you had gotten a text on your phone from Nadia and it seemed urgent.

Nadia- Go look at Jack’s instagram…. NOW

You- Why? What’s wrong?

Nadia- HE POSTED YOUR FACE, THAT’S WHAT’S WRONG!

Your heart was now doing backflips as you logged into your instagram app to see that he did indeed post you and now thoughts were beginning to run rampant.

Liked by urbanwyatt, estgee, champagnepapi, 2forwoyne, taylorrooks, saweetie, and 1,200,154 others

jackharlow: Y/N, thank you for being just an amazing mother to my son who has wanted for nothing ever since he came out of the womb. I'm thankful that we're in a better place with one another and keeping him at the center of it because at the end of the day, he's the most important part of this. I can't change the past and what went down between us, but I can move forward and do what's best for the both of you.

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You wasted no time in texting him wanting to address this and how incredibly dangerous it was.

You- Jackman, I’m coming over because we need to talk

Jack- Is everything okay?

You- No, everything is not. I’m getting dressed now

Jack was waiting at the door for you once your car pulled behind his jeep in the driveway and he could tell that you were fuming. He simply stepped aside to let you squeeze past him as you went to sit down on the couch in the living room. All Jack did was come and sit next to you waiting to hear what you had to say.

“Y/N?”

“Why did you post that?”

“Because I figured you deserved a public apology. I just wanted to show how appreciative I was of you and how important our relationship is.”

“Do you not understand what you just did? First, those pictures that were taken were for your birthday and for your eyes only and I actually forgot that I even took them until now. Second, Jack, I have an Only Fans. Did you not put two and two together?! NOW PEOPLE WILL KNOW WHAT I LOOK LIKE AND MAKE THE CONNECTION! I hardly show my face on there, but I have some videos where I do!”

“I….”

“I could lose my job over this! And that’s exactly what I was afraid of! Even if it was a few years ago, they aren’t going to see it that way.”

“Wait, your Only Fans is still active!?” Jack asked curiously, but all you did was roll your eyes.

“Is that really all you got out of that?! Yes, it’s still active! Any time if I was in a bind or needed money, I would upload videos to get paid for it!”

“Why, when you could’ve asked me?! You need to deactivate it and how was I supposed to know you still had it?! All I was trying to do was something nice for you. I swear that I can never win with you!”

“I’m not deactivating anything because that would literally be how me and Ace would eat some days when you were nowhere to be found.”

“Well, I’m here now! You don’t have to worry about that anymore! Anything you want or need, I’ll get it!”

“Every time I need something, I’m not going to run to you and ask for it. We’re not in a relationship anymore or did you forget?”

“I… well what if I want us to be?!”

This had you taken aback and you simply looked at him in disbelief as you shook your head.

“Jack…..”

“Please Y/N, just give me another chance. I’ll delete the post and make this right and I’m sorry for doing that without clearing it with you first. I compromised your safety and you know that was never my intention.”

“It is literally only a matter of time before someone finds my account.” You muttered without giving Jack an answer.

“I can delete it.”

“But not before almost a million people liked it. The damage is done so it doesn’t even matter at this point.”

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