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#selfishly I really wanted to hug him.

headkiss · 11 months

Text

you’ll always know me

part 1, part 2

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: even as the crowds at his shows get bigger and bigger, eddie munson still has you, his very best friend. or, (for my swifties) eddie munson is your dorothea.

word count: 8.6k

warnings: fluff, a little angst, childhood best friends to lovers (sort of), weed and smoking, librarian!reader, first kiss, so many uses of the words “i miss you,” and some idiots in love !!!

a/n: hiiiii!!! this one took so long but i really love rockstar!eddie and i hope you do too!!! this is inspired by tis the damn season and especially dorothea by taylor swift <3 thank you to my love @inkluvs for encouraging me on this one ily!!!

♫♩♪♬

It’s surreal to watch someone close to you grow so much bigger than the town you live in.

To know that the person you see on the news, at award shows on your TV screen, is the same one who used to push you on the swings at the playground, who used to walk with you to and from school, who grew up beside you, closer than anyone else ever could have.

Closer than anyone ever would, still.

To most people, he’s Eddie Munson, lead singer and guitarist of Corroded Coffin. To you, he’s Eddie, the best friend you’ve ever had.

You can go back years and years, and Eddie’s woven into your life for so much of it. So is his music. You can pick out the points: watching Corroded Coffin play for the first time in middle school, watching their first gig at the Hideout, being in the front row for it all wearing the widest smile, having the loudest cheers.

Even the late night phone calls you’d get when he’d be stuck on lyrics, when he wanted someone’s opinion and chose to dial your number instead of his bandmates’.

(“Hello?”

“I can’t get this line to sound right.”

“Let’s hear it, Munson.”)

You’re often in disbelief of where he is now. Not because you ever doubted him, but because even after so long, it’s strange not to see him every day. You’re insanely proud of him, but that doesn’t mean you don’t miss him.

Because you do. You miss him so much.

A box sits on the top shelf of your closet, one filled with newspaper and magazine clippings, articles about the band’s success, positive reviews about their shows and their albums. Things to show that Eddie’s dream came true, and that’s a rare thing.

There’s only one kind of tabloid you choose not to keep: the ones booming with rumors you selfishly hope aren’t true.

‘Lead singer of Corroded Coffin has a new spark? Read more to find out who’s caught famous bad boy Eddie Munson’s eye.’

You see him constantly in pictures, through a screen, but you only really ever see him on holidays, when he’s able to come home. When he comes bursting back into your life in vibrant fireworks with his stupid, pretty smile and stupid, shining brown eyes. When he comes back only to leave all over again.

You only have yourself to blame, really, for letting it tear you up. Because more than anything, you’re happy for him, so happy you could never express it properly, but still, there’s an ache in you when he crosses your mind, when the feelings linger.

Life in Hawkins for you consists of working at the library, reading your days and thoughts away, hanging out with the gang when you’re up to it, and that’s about it.

Eddie always knows where to find you when he does come home, usually barging into the library with his arms open for a hug, one you rush into easily. You always spend the couple days he has in Hawkins together, being the you and him you’ve been since you were kids. But the lingering reminder doesn’t fade, the reminder of him having to leave looming over you like a storm cloud.

Eddie Munson comes home sporadically, unknowingly taking your heart with him wherever he goes. And when his inevitable departure takes place, you’re forced to regrow what’s missing from your chest. Every single time.

Besides his uncle Wayne, who could only ever see him as a troublemaking kid, you’re the only person who’s never treated Eddie any differently.

Not in high school when he was labeled a freak, not even when the fame rose so suddenly it felt like a tidal wave. You kept him afloat. You keep him afloat.

He knows he should call more often, he knows that even if the phone works both ways, you really don’t have a way of keeping track of which hotel he’s in, which state, which country, even. He knows that falls on him.

Your phone number’s burned into Eddie’s memory. He could never forget it, and still, he can’t seem to find the time to dial it. He’ll get called away, or he’ll just be getting back from a show and barely have the energy to shower before getting in bed. Worse, he’ll get the panicked sense that you won’t pick up anymore.

At least he’s never missed your birthday. That, he’ll always make time for, usually phoning you at the same time that a bouquet of flowers arrives at your door. And somehow, even when he’s away, you don’t miss his birthday, either.

Eddie’s sitting on the small couch in his dressing room, waiting to go on stage, thinking of you the way he often does.

He wonders if you think of him, too. If you miss him or if you’re angry that he’s gone so often, that he can barely even manage a fucking phone call. Though, you were never the type to be angry. Never with him, at least.

He wants to hear your voice, wants to hear you tell him ‘good luck’ before going on stage like you used to. He peeks at the table next to the couch. Eddie’s not sure how much time he has before he needs to go, but he figures it’s worth a try.

Just as he’s about to pick up the phone in his dressing room, there’s a knock on the door.

“Munson! You’re on in five!”

He’ll call you later, then.

“Beginning descent to the Indianapolis International Airport.”

The muffled sound through the airplane’s speakers is followed by the ding of the seatbelt signs being turned on. Eddie shifts in his seat to look out the window. He’s got his own little cubicle in first class, and though this is how he always flies now (other than when he finds himself on a private jet, which is even more unbelievable), he’s still not used to it.

He’s itching to get out of this seat, then he remembers that he’s still got the trek through the airport and the drive back to Hawkins. It’ll be worth it to see Wayne, who he doesn’t see nearly as often as he should, and get his classic hug with a slap on his shoulder.

It’ll be worth it to see you, who makes Hawkins feel more like home. You, who reminds him of the person he’s always been, the parts that get lost on the road. You, who hugs him tighter than anyone else ever has.

His hands clench into fits in his lap.

As soon as Eddie steps off the plane, his security team finds him. He’d assured them that he’d be fine, really, but this is how it is for him now. Through baggage claim and all the way to the car that’s waiting for him outside, security takes a step whenever he does.

Shutting the car door as he slides into the backseat, Eddie tips his head back and sighs.

The car ride feels shorter than usual, the city fading into trees and fields until the ‘Welcome to Hawkins’ sign comes into view. The gravel crunches under the car’s tires as it pulls into the trailer park. Wayne’s got enough to get a better place now, Eddie made sure of it, but he never did. He’d never admit it but Wayne’s sentimental, and the trailer houses too many memories to let go of it.

After all, it was home.

Stepping through the front door there’s the smell that he’d never noticed until he’d been gone for weeks at a time. The settled dust, the faint smoke of cigarettes, coffee, and the room spray Wayne inevitably uses to try and cover it all up.

Eddie drags his bags inside, waves to his driver, and shuts the door behind him.

Then, Wayne’s warm rasp, “my boy. Get in okay?”

He’s wrapped in his uncle’s classic hug quickly, the pats on his shoulder and all. Eddie closes his eyes and soaks it in, just for a second, “yeah. It was fine.”

“Good, good,” Wayne says, pulling back and grasping Eddie’s shoulders, getting a good look at him. “Take a shower.”

“Is that your way of telling me I look like shit?”

“Nah, that’s me telling you that you smell like airport, boy.”

“It’s great to see you, too,” Eddie says, smiling.

He and Wayne have the kind of relationship that time doesn’t really affect all that much. Whether Eddie’s away for a week or a month, or two, or three, they fall back into things like he’d never even left.

He knows Wayne’s probably lonely, probably hiding more than he could imagine, but he also knows that he loves him, and that’s always a good thing to know, to feel. Loved.

“Shut up, you know I missed you,” Wayne shakes Eddie’s shoulders and lets go, “now go wash up and you can tell me about your last show over some coffee, sound good?”

“Sounds good. I missed you too, Wayne.”

Eddie carries his bags into his room, leaving them open on the ground rather than unpacking. He’ll just have to pack them all over again, anyways.

Before long, the trailer’s small bathroom is filling with steam as Eddie steps into the shower, dropping his neck back and letting the water run over his shoulders, his back. He stands like that for a bit, simply letting the heat melt away at the tension in his muscles.

By the time he steps out, the mirror is completely fogged with steam, and Eddie wipes away at a section to look at himself. The bags under his eyes, the mess of his hair that he doesn’t bother taming, the small scratch on his chin from one of his rings. He shakes his head and heads into his room with his towel around his waist.

He throws on a pair of plaid pajama pants and a faded band tee, his hair soaking the back of it drop by drop.

In the kitchen, Wayne’s got two mugs of coffee sitting on the small table, a seat already pulled out for Eddie to take.

“Thanks.”

He nods, sipping from his mug as Eddie does the same.

In the silence, he can’t help but think of you, of how close he is to you now. Mere minutes away. He wonders what you’re doing, if you’re reading in bed after your shift, if you’d just showered like him, if you’re thinking of him, too.

“I saw her the other day,” Wayne says.

They both know he means you.

“How’s she doing?”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll ask her that when you see her tomorrow, but she seemed good.”

“How'd you know I’m gonna see her tomorrow?”

“Come on, kid. You go to the library the day after you get in every time and think I don’t notice?”

Eddie looks down at the mug in his hands, his face warm. It shouldn’t matter, shouldn’t have him feeling all shy and nervous, like he’d been caught, but it does.

“She misses you,” Wayne adds.

“She tell you that?”

“Doesn’t have to. I’ve known that girl since she was little and running after you on the playground. I can tell.”

Wayne has always said that you’re as good as family, after all. Eddie used to joke that his uncle liked you more than him, and you used to laugh and joke back that he was right.

Eddie’s suddenly very excited to sleep, only to get to tomorrow quicker.

“I miss her, too.”

“Yeah, kid. I know,” Wayne leaves it there, switching things over, “I saw you almost eat shit on TV the other day.”

“Come on!” Eddie groans. He’d tripped over a fucking wire on stage. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“It was still fuckin’ funny.”

“Of all the shows, you just had to tune in for that one.”

Wayne asks about the tour, about how Eddie’s liking it this time around, about whether or not there’s anything new he’s working on.

In return, Eddie asks about the mechanic’s, about whether or not Wayne’s back has been acting up (which earns him a light slap on the back of the head), about what’s changed in Hawkins since the last time he’d been home.

Even through the smiles he shares with his uncle, Eddie’s wondering how you’ll react when you see him tomorrow, picturing how it’ll feel to be near you again. He gets that feeling in his gut, the butterflies that are nerves and excitement and questions and feelings rolled into one.

He’s pretty sure he dreams about you, too.

Your shifts at the library are always long; full days of scanning and shelving books. You’re lucky to say that you actually like your job. The smell of worn pages, the peacefulness (save for when Dustin comes barging in with his stack of overdue books that you let him off the hook for every time), the interactions that are almost always short and sweet since it’s meant to be a quiet place.

Your eight or nine or however many hour days go by much quicker now than they did during your high school job at the grocery store, that’s for sure.

You’re pushing the put-back cart between shelves, humming a random song quietly as you place the books where they belong, sometimes pausing to straighten things out. It’s the middle of a weekday and you’re the only person in there anyway. That is, until the small bell on the front desk dings.

“Just a second!” You call, squeezing between the cart and the self beside it to walk over to the front desk. You think your heart stops altogether.

You’d recognize that head of hair anywhere, the dark, frizzy curls. Hell, you’d recognize that damn denim vest anywhere, even the stance of the person wearing it. “Eddie?”

He turns around at the sound of your voice, and something lifts from his chest when he sees you. A grin spreads wide on his face, splitting his cheeks and crinkling his eyes in the corners, “there she is.”

Usually, when he comes home, it’s on a holiday and you’re expecting him, watching the door and waiting for him to walk through it. This time, you had no idea he’d be coming home. It’s the best surprise you could get.

You’re practically running into his arms, and he wraps them around your waist easily, yours tossed around his shoulders. Your face is buried in his neck, breathing him in, making sure this is real. “What the hell are you doing here?”

His hands clutch at the fabric over your sides, his head twisting so he can place a kiss over your hair, “had a break from tour. Missed home.”

And sure, Eddie hadn’t really realized just how much he missed it until he came back, it’s crystal clear now, with you hugging him. He really, really missed home.

You want to say something stupid and emotional like it hasn’t felt as much like home until now, or I missed the sound of your voice and the smell of your shampoo, but that would probably reveal a little too much.

“Just home you missed or…” you tease, pulling back to look at his face, his brown eyes that sort of sparkle. Your hands stay on his shoulders, his on your waist.

“I missed Wayne, obviously,” Eddie replies, acting oblivious and smiling at the small furrow in your brow.

“Eddie!”

“Aw, come on.” He tugs you in for another hug, his cheek squished against the side of your head. “‘Course I missed you, trouble.”

Trouble. You never knew you could miss a single word so much.

Eddie started calling you ‘trouble’ when you were kids, sometime in middle school when you’d stolen a bunch of his mixtapes and only returned them weeks later, when he finally noticed. He’d snatched them out of your hands and muttered ‘you’re trouble’ and it just stuck.

“Thank you,” you say, laughing when Eddie pulls back frowning at you. “And I missed you, too. Duh.”

“Duh.” He mocks. He lets go of you fully but doesn’t go far, leaning an elbow against the desk, “you’re doing okay?”

“I’m good. Things don’t change all that much around here, you know that.”

“I’m not asking about around here, I’m asking ‘bout you.”

You tug at the hair tie on your wrist. “I’m fine, Eddie. Promise.”

He nods, and there’s a small lull in the conversation that pinches at your chest for some reason. The sort of silence that never used to be there when it came to you and Eddie, always filling it with conversation or letting it be comfortable. Now, there’s something like awkwardness stretching and it stings.

Because it shouldn’t be there, because he’s Eddie and you’re you and you’re best friends and that’s all there should be to it. But it isn’t. You’re the same people, but so much is different.

“You working late?” He asks.

“Until we close.”

“Care for some company?”

You tilt your head at him, “you really wanna hang around the library for the last four hours of my shift?”

“Sounds like fun to me. I’ll even push the cart for you, and you can tell me what I’ve missed while I was away.”

It’s funny that he thinks he’d ever have to convince you to spend time with him, when you’re practically pulling at any thread of him that you can, when you’re taking anything he has to give you. Two days, a week, a couple of phone calls.

It’s all better than not having him at all.

“Only if you tell me what I’ve missed, too. Like all the cool celebrities you’ve met.”

“Not as cool as you, trouble.” Eddie taps your nose, smiling at the way you scrunch it in response.

“Shut up and start pushing the cart, Munson.”

He stands straight and salutes, “yes ma’am.”

You’re still smiling when you shake your head, “idiot.”

Eddie really does spend the rest of the day with you, pushing the cart while you re-shelf books, sitting in the extra chair behind the counter while you file returns, ducking when someone else walks in.

He asks you about Robin and Steve, Dustin and Lucas, how the kids are finding school, whether Nancy’s been hired at a big paper yet. He asks you about your family, and most of all, about you.

He hangs onto every word you say. And not once do you say anything to make him feel bad for being away, if anything, you can’t stop telling him how proud you are, especially when he talks to you about what’s in the works.

“I always told you you’d make it, Munson.”

“Wouldn’t have done it without you, trouble.”

The next morning, you’re sitting across from him in the corner booth by the window at Benny’s for breakfast. The same way you did every Friday in high school, at the same table.

Whenever you wind up at Benny’s when Eddie’s away, you tend to avoid that booth. It’s pathetic. Like his absence is clearer than ever sitting there when he isn’t. When he’s not putting whipped cream on your nose or stealing food off your plate.

Now, it’s his presence that surrounds you, his smile and his laugh, his foot nudging yours under the table.

The menu is sticky under your fingertips where you hold it, faded from sunlight and discolored from coffee spills that stain the page. You don’t really need to be looking at it—after years of coming here, you’ve probably got the thing memorized—but you need the time to collect yourself. To remember that this is Eddie, and there’s nothing to be nervous about.

You need the time to stuff down that flutter in your gut and in your chest.

On the other side of the booth, Eddie takes your distraction as a chance to really look at you. The details he can’t seem to picture when he’s away like the flecks in your eyes or the exact shade of your lips.

He never realizes just how much he misses you until he’s home. Until he’s sitting across from you and listening to the sound of your voice clearly instead of through a crackling phone’s speaker, until he gets to see the way your eyes light up slightly when you laugh.

It sort of hits him all at once, and he’s thinking, God, I should call more often. I should visit more often.

After a couple of minutes, you look back at Eddie, “you know what you want?”

“I’ve been getting the same thing since high school, trouble. Don’t need the menu.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll go order,” you say, placing your menu back in the holder by the window.

When you start sliding your way out of the booth, Eddie places a hand over yours on the table, “I can get it.”

You look down at your hands, his skin on yours, like you’d expected to see something there. A spark, a burn scorching your skin in the best way.

“I know you can,” you say, smiling at him. “But it’s my treat, okay? I want to get it.”

Eddie always feels sort of guilty when he’s not buying, because he has more than enough money to take care of it, more than he knows what to do with. Sometimes (often), people expect him to pay, even. And just like you’d known how he was feeling, you shut it down with a flash of your smile.

You shift to squeeze his hand before getting up and heading over to the counter, leaning on your elbows as you wait your turn.

Still, Eddie’s looking at you, his hand in the same spot on the table.

He knows that, despite it not being a busy morning at Benny’s, people are looking at him, whispering the way they did even in school. Only now, they’re saying they can’t believe it, look at him now, instead of calling him a freak. And just like in school, having you around makes the talk bearable. Hell, it makes it disappear, if only for a little while.

When the waiter finally comes over to take your order, you send him a kind smile, rattling off yours and Eddie’s orders.

Eddie watches the entire interaction. He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want to make eye contact with anyone else, that it’s because he’s just making sure you’re alright. It’s certainly not because of how pretty he thinks you look today, not because of how hard it is to keep his eyes off of you.

The waiter is a younger guy, probably around your age. Someone Eddie doesn’t know. He seems to tell you a joke because you laugh, bright and sunny, and Eddie suddenly wishes that Benny was the one taking orders.

Because he should be the one to make you laugh like that, to be on the receiving end of your grin and crinkled eyes. Because there’s this weight in his stomach that feels a little too much like jealousy. Because you’re his best friend and he fucking misses you.

Eddie looks down at his hands and twists his rings around and around until you come back, the old booth squeaking as you sit down.

“You okay?” You ask, always noticing his nervous habit of fiddling with his rings.

She’s my friend, he reminds himself. My best friend, that’s all.

“‘Course I am.”

“The guy at the counter, Dan, wanted me to tell you he’s a fan.”

He shakes his head, “I can't believe I have those. Especially in this town.”

“Excuse me? Your biggest fan is sitting right here, in this town, Munson.”

He probably thinks you’re joking with the way he chuckles, chest rumbling. But, you’re not. The shoebox full of clippings says enough, and you don’t think he’d ever let you live it down if he knew about it.

“She want an autograph?” He teases, the heaviness in his stomach melting away. Your biggest fan.

“In your chicken scratch? Yeah right.”

It’s not long before your food arrives, plates of waffles and fruit, sides of bacon and hashbrowns. Of course, you inevitably end up with whipped cream on your nose and food missing from your plate.

It’s your favorite kind of breakfast.

You’re sitting in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van—the same van he’s had since high school, that he refuses to replace—heading towards Steve’s place. It’s not unusual for either of you to be meeting up with the gang, but Eddie’s still nervous.

“Are you sure about this?” He asks you.

They don’t know he’s in town, and as sure as you are that they’ll be thrilled to see him, Eddie isn’t convinced. You place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze lightly as he drives.

“Everyone’s gonna be so happy to see you. Don’t you trust me?”

“‘Course I do,” he says easily, without thinking, “just haven’t seen anyone in a while, you know?”

“We all miss you, Eddie. It’ll be fun!”

Logically, he knows nobody’s gonna kick him out, or treat him any differently, but it doesn’t stop him from getting nervous. You wanted to surprise everyone, and how could he say no to you? So, here he is, gripping the steering wheel too tight and worrying too much.

Pulling into the driveway, he nods, “here we go.”

You hop out of the van before he has it shut off, but he catches up quickly. He follows you to the side gate of the house, watches you unlatch it and stroll into the yard. The sound of voices mingling hits his ears as you walk around the house and find your group of friends sitting around in lounge chairs.

“Look who I brought,” You announce.

Your shout is followed by eyes flicking towards you, then Eddie who stands beside you. Then, a chorus of his name, plus Argyle’s “rockstar!”

“Hey guys,” he says, waving shyly.

It’s odd to feel this way around these people that he’s known for years. Robin and Steve who’ve rented him way too many movies for free, Nancy and Johnathan who are probably why he graduated high school, and Argyle who was always his most loyal customer.

All of these memories and he feels a little too much like a stranger. At least he’s got you, who feels like one of the only sure things in his life. No matter how long goes by, you’re there, and he hopes you always will be.

“You want a drink?” Steve asks, leaning to reach into the cooler beside him.

“I’ll take one, thanks,” you say, catching the can Steve throws to you.

“I’m driving,” Eddie says, jingling his keys.

“Eddie Munson being responsible,” Robin teases, “they grow up so fast.”

And just like that, he feels a little better. These are his friends, and even though he’s not around all of the time, and even though he may not be as close to everyone anymore, they’ll still be his friends.

You sit down on the empty lounge chair and pat the space beside you for Eddie, sending him a smile that says both ‘told you so,’ in your snark he can practically hear, and ‘everything’s okay,’ in your kind way.

He plops down beside you.

“How’s everything going?” Johnathan asks him.

Not wanting all of the attention on him, Eddie keeps his answer short, “busy, but it’s a ton of fun.”

“Everything you ever dreamed of?” Robin adds.

“You could definitely say that.”

Though, Eddie has this strange feeling that he’s missing something whenever he’s gone. It’ll go away, but somehow, it always finds him again, when he’s debating on calling or not, when he’s hit with a memory of you in the front row at the Hideout when he’s on stage.

He looks over at you and finds you smiling softly at him, eyes fond. He can’t believe he’s the one you’re looking at like that.

Eddie blinks and turns back to the group, “how about you guys? How’re the jobs?”

The chatter picks up and surrounds him, but Eddie can’t stop thinking about the way you were looking at him just then. He’s never had someone look at him like that, like there’s nothing but affection there.

It’s platonic, he tells himself. She’s my best friend.

You feel happier now than you have in a while. Things feel more complete when Eddie’s around. Things feel right. It’s all of your favorite people with no empty chair, it’s falling back into a friendship that’s existed for years.

When conversations split off into smaller ones, you lean your head on his shoulder, and the words sort of slip out of you, “it’s really nice to have you here.”

His heart beats louder, he leans his head on top of yours, “it’s nice to be home.”

And it is. Eddie loves touring, he loves playing his music, and he loves his job, but at the end of the day, he’ll always be this boy from Hawkins, and he’ll always be happy to be home, to be with you.

Catching the moment, Argyle—always sharing his thoughts—says, “sick, you guys are finally together.”

You and Eddie both sit up, like you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t, even when you’ve sat like that countless times before.

Everyone’s eyes seem to be on the both of you now, and you have a tiny panic inside. Have you really been that obvious with how you feel? Does Eddie know and he hasn’t said anything because he doesn’t want to hurt you?

You laugh awkwardly, “what?”

“Like, dating,” Argyle explains.

“Me and Eddie?”

He’d been frozen for a second there, surprised that Argyle thought that. Was he seeing something Eddie couldn’t? No, no way.

“Just friends, guys,” Eddie says. “Come on.”

You swallow, forcing out a word, “exactly.”

“They’ve always been like this,” Nancy says, which explains enough but also sort of nothing at all.

Just friends. It’s something you know, you remind yourself constantly. It’s all it’ll ever be, and still, hearing Eddie say it out loud has your stomach feeling heavy. Just friends, get over it.

Even as conversation picks up again, as you laugh with everyone, the two words play in your head over and over. Then, after saying your goodbyes, once you’re in the van with Eddie again, it fades, because if you can’t be in love with him, you can be his best friend, and you’d much rather have that than nothing at all.

Once he drops you off, Eddie thinks and thinks about what Argyle had said. He goes over memories, over how he feels around you, and it hits him like a huge punch to the gut.

He thinks he has feelings for you. Big, huge feelings.

It’s the same day, a different sky, the sun sunk behind the horizon to give way to a sky full of stars and a bright moon.

Eddie’s van is parked by Lover’s Lake, the back full of blankets where you both sit, the doors open to look at the sky and the way the moonlight reflects on the water.

There’s practically an indent in the ground in the spot he’s parked, the one that’s been your go-to for ages. From day picnics to nighttime smoke sessions, it’s another place on the list of the ones that are filled with memories of Eddie.

Beside you, he’s got a joint in hand, the flick of his lighter catching your ears over the crickets and the breeze. You watch him inhale, his chest expanding, the smoke slipping from his lips. You turn back to the water.

“Your turn,” he says, handing you the joint.

You grab it between your fingertips and bring it to your mouth, feeling the smoke trail down your throat, further, then you’re breathing it out, clearing your throat at the tickle.

“Out of practice?” Eddie teases at your small cough.

“My favorite weed dealer went out of business,” you say, nudging his shoulder with yours, “so, yeah.”

He takes the joint back from you, “you don’t smoke when I’m not around? You know Argyle’s gotta have some stock.”

“Oh, he definitely does. A little too exotic for my taste. Besides, he won’t give it to me for free.”

“Getting cheap, trouble?”

You shrug, shoulder to your cheek, and give him an innocent smile.

It feels easy, the joint being passed back and forth between sentences until it’s done and stubbed out, the flow of conversation, the comfort that’s there. It’s always been easy with him, even when it hurts a little.

Eddie’s got on his worn denim vest, still full of pins, and you tug at it, “think this thing has a permanent weed smell by now.”

“I think that’s just part of my natural scent,” he replies, playfully flipping his hair over his shoulder.

His curls graze your cheek—that’s how close you’re sitting, thighs touching—and you giggle. You’ve had so many nights just like this one with Eddie, and it feels like some kind of reward that you get to have them still, even when they’re far less regular now.

“Doesn’t this make you think of high school?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Eddie’s hand is on his knee, his pinky twitches, reaching for your leg, “hell, I’m even wearing the same clothes as in high school.”

“How does it feel like yesterday and also a lifetime ago?”

Eddie looks over at you, the warm glow of moonlight and stars on your skin, the way your sweater hangs off your shoulder, the shine in your eyes that’s part weed and part nostalgia.

“A lot’s changed since then,” he says. “I’m not a loser anymore.”

“You’re still my loser.”

How is it that even when you’re calling him a loser, the idea of being yours in any sense of the word is enough to have Eddie’s heart swell in his chest, a balloon floating up and up and he has to swallow to push it back down.

“Stop being cheesy,” he plays it off, ruffling your hair.

You shove his arm away, “I just miss you!”

Eddie looks at his arm, your hand still holding onto it, he follows your arm with his gaze until it lands on your face. He thinks you’re beautiful, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen and no groupie could change that.

“I miss you, too, trouble.”

Something shifts, the air growing thicker, a sort of understanding between the two of you. There’s something here, something that could be a disaster but could also be so, so good. Could be everything.

“No way you think about me when you’ve got crowds and fans and-“

“I think about you a lot, honey.”

Honey. He’s probably called you that before, but never like this. Never dripping sweet and sincere, never looking at you like he wants to do something you can’t even let yourself imagine in fear of being let down, of hoping too much.

Eddie’s hand shifts from his own leg to yours, thumb running back and forth, burning you even through the fabric of your pants.

“You do?”

“All the time. You’re my best friend.”

Right. Friend.

“You’re mine, too, Eddie.”

And suddenly you can feel his breath fan across your cheek, your lips. His face is close to yours and the hair that falls over his forehead tickles yours. Just a second ago he’d been saying the word ‘friend,’ and now it feels like he’s going to do something to contradict that.

Against all odds, he does.

Eddie couldn’t help himself. Maybe he’ll blame the weed, or maybe he won’t, but before he knows it he’s reaching up with the hand that isn’t on his leg to cup your cheek and tilt your head. And he’s kissing you.

He’s kissing you.

It’s so delicate, so much you’re afraid to even breathe, like it’ll break in an instant. Eddie’s fingers squeeze your leg, urge you to kiss him back and there’s no way that you wouldn’t. Not when his lips are actually on yours, not when he tastes like weed and mint gum and something perfect.

It could be seconds or minutes that you’re kissing, tilting your head even more to feel him, clutching his sleeve tightly. It never deepens, but it doesn’t have to, it says enough.

When you pull away, it’s not one or the other who does it, it’s natural, like it’s been rehearsed time and time again. Eddie leans his forehead against yours, his hand still on your cheek.

“Was that a bad idea?” He asks you, voice low and quiet.

“Maybe. I don’t know.” And you don’t, because there’s no way of knowing what’s gonna happen next, if things will be ruined, if this will fade away like it never happened, or, maybe, just maybe, if it’ll start something.

“Was it okay?”

“More than okay.”

You don’t talk about it that night, and you don’t want to just yet. You’re fine with enjoying the pink-tinted haze at least until tomorrow.

Eddie’s barely been gone for two days and you’re not sure what to do with yourself. After that night, neither of you brought it up, and as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t. You were scared. And anyway, it was probably just the weed for him.

You’d never kissed before. Sure, you’ve come close, faces inches apart when you’d share a bed, whispers away, but nothing ever happened. Until now.

Now, sitting on your bed, chin resting on your knees, you’re reeling from knowing what Eddie’s lips feel like and missing him all over again. Rebuilding that piece in your chest.

Somewhere else in the country, in the world, Eddie’s position isn’t so different from yours. He’s sitting on the edge of his hotel bed, forearms on his knees, head bent. He wants to call you, and he’s figuring out what he’ll say when he does.

He misses you every time he isn’t home, but it’s never felt like this. There’s never been this ache in his stomach that won’t go away because of it. Fuck, he misses you more than ever.

The last trip back to Hawkins was different than anything else, because he brought back these feelings with him and he keeps reaching up to press his fingertips to his lips, like the memory of your own lingers there.

Sure, he’s had silly, sticky thoughts like waking up with his arms around you after a nap and thinking he could wake up that way forever, but he’s always pushed them down. Now, it seems, he can’t, the images too buoyant to ignore, floating back up every time.

Sucking in a deep breath, he sits up and reaches for the phone, dialing your number that’s stored in his memory. His leg bounces as the phone rings.

You’re startled by the screech of your phone on your bedside table, head lifting to look at it shake on the receiver. You reach over and pick it up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, trouble. It’s not a bad time, is it?”

Eddie. His voice crackling through the phone sends a spike down your spine. You clutch the phone a little tighter.

You’d expected Robin, or Nancy, even Steve. Because there’d been a time, earlier in Corroded Coffin’s career, when Eddie would call you at least three times a week, and then the calls grew less frequent until they sort of died out to holidays and birthdays.

So, maybe a couple of years ago, you’d have expected Eddie’s voice, but not today.

“Eddie, hi. Not at all.”

“I- um, I just wanted to call,” a small pause, he clears his throat, “how are you?”

“It’s only been two days, you know how I am.”

“I mean right now.”

You twist to lay on your side, legs curling in towards your chest. You smile to yourself like an idiot. “Right now, I’m good. It’s lame, I already miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

The reply comes easily to him. There’s no thought to it, because in the past 48 hours, he hasn’t been able to stop missing you for a second. The warmth of your hand in his, the sunshine sound of your laughter.

He’s not sure why everything’s so big now, his feelings amplified, only quieted now, by the sound of your voice.

“Did you have a show today?”

You have a way of asking that makes it sound like you really care, Eddie thinks. He loves his music and he knows you know that. It means the world to him to do what he does, confusing feelings or not.

“Not today. We spent the day on the bus. Show’s tomorrow.”

“Nervous or excited?”

It’s something that you used to ask him before every small show in Hawkins, and the memory has a grin spreading on Eddie’s face. “It’s always both. More excited, though.”

“You should be,” you say. “You guys are really great.”

“Yeah? Who’s your favorite band member?”

He’s fishing, and you tease him rather than bite, “hmmm. Gareth.”

“Fuckin’ trouble. You liar.”

“You asked!”

“You answered the question wrong, honey.”

There it is again. Honey. You’re sort of glad he can’t see you right now because you probably look way too happy, burying your face in your pillow for a second before replying.

“You know you’re my favorite, Munson.”

“Yeah I am,” he sounds far too proud. And then, he’s softer, “I’m not keeping you up, am I? Time zones fuck me up.”

“No, no.” Even if he was, you wouldn’t tell him. This is better than trying and failing to sleep the way you so often do. “It’s not that late. What time is it for you?”

“Not that late,” he says, even though the clock on the nightstand reads 1:14AM. “So, what’s happening in Hawkins right now?”

“Mmm, it’s getting warmer. My window’s open and the crickets are loud as fuck.” You twist the phone cord around your fingers, “it’s donation week at the library, so I’ve been shelving new books for a change.”

Eddie listens to every word you say, asks you questions like if you’d kept any books for yourself (you had, but swore you’d give them to the library when you were done) and hums between your sentences.

Somewhere along the way, he’d laid down while listening to you, eyes shut as he tried to picture what you might look like right at this second. If you’re in your pajamas or not, whether your hair would be a little messy, baby hairs a halo around your face.

Then his eyes grew heavier, your voice putting him at ease even with the sounds of his bandmates laughing from somewhere in the hotel.

“Eddie?” You ask after he’d been silent for a bit.

“Hm?” He hums sleepily.

“I lost you for a second there.”

If he wasn’t half asleep, he’d feel worse. “Sorry, getting sleepy.”

“You wanna hang up?”

“No, uh- keep talking to me? You have a nice voice.”

You smile, cheeks pinching with the size of it.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll keep talking.”

And you do, you keep talking and talking until you can hear the sound of Eddie’s tiny snores on the other side of the line. You’re smiling again at that.

Even after you’re sure he’s asleep, you don’t hang up right away, not until your own eyes are growing heavy. You put the phone back quietly, like you’ll wake him if you’re not careful. You whisper a soft ‘goodnight, Eddie,’ as you do.

There’s a small stiffness in your fingers from how tightly you’d been holding the phone, and still, you’d let your hand cramp for hours to talk to him.

The next morning, Eddie wakes up with the pattern of the phone pressed to his cheek where he’d left it last night.

The TV sends flashes of color flickering across your living room and over your face. Usually, you’d be in bed by now, but it’s the night of the MTV awards and Corroded Coffin is nominated. You couldn’t miss it.

You’re not really paying attention to most of it, the sounds of performances and hosts and thank-you speeches filling your ears as you read your latest book. At least, you’re not paying attention until Eddie’s category is announced.

That has you shutting your book and sitting up, grabbing the remote to turn the volume higher.

They show the nominees, give far too long of an introduction before tearing open the envelope holding the winner’s names. You don’t know it, but you’re practically white knuckling the blanket on your lap.

“And the MTV award goes to… Corroded Coffin!”

You stand and place a hand on your chest, feeling your heart beating—racing—for the band, for Eddie. This is huge, it’s a dream, and it’s his. If you could, you’d give him a suffocating hug right now.

Eddie’s voice taking over, thanking his fans and Wayne, the boys and their team, then, thanking Hawkins and the people there, even when they gave him hell.

If you knew the right number to call to talk to him, you’d dial it in an instant.

Lucky for you, your phone rings the next night, late enough that you can only assume it’s Eddie given you don’t know anyone else who’s probably in a different time zone right now. You pick up quickly, fumbling with the phone a little before bringing it up to your ear.

“Eddie?”

“How’d you know it was me?”

“Ummm, my amazing intuition? Telepathy?”

“Telepathy, she says.” There’s a soft chuckle on his end, you close your eyes and lean your head back to thump against the wall behind you. “How’re things, trouble?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that, mister MTV winner.”

Eddie’s been calling more often again, whenever he gets the chance, really. Even so, he never thought you’d be keeping up with him that way, that you’d care enough to watch an award show and remember what he’d achieved.

“You were watching?” He asks, heart thudding.

“Of course I was. I’m your biggest fan, remember?” You’re sitting with your back against your headboard, knees bent, hand absentmindedly pulling at a loose thread in your pajama pants. “I’ve got cheerleader pom-poms and everything.”

“You do not.”

“Do too. They’re super metal, all black.”

“Yeah, cause pom-poms are super metal, babe.”

Another pet name in the rotation, uttered like it’s easy, natural. You bite back a smile.

“Whatever. Mine would be,” you say. “I’m glad you called.”

“Me, too.”

“I wanted to call you yesterday,” you admit, twisting that loose thread in your fingers, “after I saw you won. I’m really proud of you, Eddie.”

They’re words he hadn’t been expecting, but ones he’ll be thinking about over and over. He wants to keep making you proud, he thinks, and he’ll pour that into everything he does whether he means to or not.

“Thank you,” his voice is quieter, almost shy. “I wouldn’t be here without you, you know?”

“You would. You’re talented, and there’s no way that could stay hidden in this town, you’re bigger than it.”

Somehow, it’s easier to be so open with him on the phone. You don’t have to look at him, get distracted by his tongue running over his lips or the way his bangs get caught in his eyelashes sometimes. This way, all you have to do is speak, nothing more.

“Trouble-” he can’t even find the words to say, because there’s affection laced in your tone, seeping through the phone and into his head and, fuck, he wants to kiss you for it and he can’t. “I really miss you.”

“I miss you, too.” There’s some silence, and the overthinker in you worries that you’ve said too much even though you meant it with every part of you, that you’ve given yourself away. “Anyways, I should go, let you celebrate your win.”

It’s what he would be doing if Eddie’s thoughts hadn’t been so full of you and your mouth and your voice. It’s what his bandmates and friends are surely doing in some club around here.

“You don’t need to. I’m not doing anything.”

“No?” You try to lighten your tone, to joke the way you usually do, “don’t have groupies knocking on your hotel room door right now?”

Instead of playing along, Eddie’s voice is serious, still soft in the way he speaks to you, but serious nonetheless, “I don’t entertain them, honey.”

“You don’t?”

He’s tried. But ever since you kissed him, probably since before that, too, Eddie can’t seem to look at anyone else, let alone have someone else kiss him and tarnish the memory of your lips on his. He’s only ever thinking of you, it seems. So no, he hasn’t fooled around lately.

“Not in a while. I’m trying to write for the next album. No distractions.”

No distractions. He says it like that’s true, even though he can’t seem to fully focus, like there’s a piece he’s missing. Like every lyric he’s written since he’s been back isn’t somehow about you.

He’s so, so fucked.

“Look at you, Munson. Squeaky clean.”

You hope he can’t tell that you’re sort of a mess, a stupid blossom of hope planting itself where it shouldn’t. He’s your friend, he’s always been just your friend. But you kissed and it felt like something changed, and you can’t seem to let go of that.

“You sound surprised,” he teases, gathering his wits the best he can.

“Can you blame me? You used to have multiple lunchboxes reserved for your weed.”

“You loved those lunchboxes and you know it.”

“Yeah, I did.”

And then, like that moment was simply a blip, easily brushed over, your conversation turns back to your normal. Jokes with underlying affections, teasing while picturing what kind of smile the other wears when you laugh lightly into the phone.

Time runs away from you, and by the time you hang up it’s well into the early hours of the morning, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

After hanging up, Eddie’s got this sinking, aching pull in his stomach. He knows what it is, has had bouts of it before where he misses Wayne’s hand patting his back or the way his mattress is worn-in just the right amount back at the trailer, when he thinks about what his friends might be doing or what science project Dustin’s got going on.

But it’s never felt this heavy. Eddie’s the most homesick he’s ever been.

He’d listen to your voice forever, but in that moment, he’d give anything to see your face, to see the shake of your shoulders when you laugh, the curve of your smile.

What the hell is wrong with him?

Eddie wipes his palms on his thighs before standing and walking out into the living room of his band’s suite hotel room. The guys are still up, and they’re all staring at him like weirdos.

“What?” He pauses in the doorway.

“Did you tell her you’re in love with her yet, or what?” Jeff, the electric guitarist, asks him.

“What?” Eddie says again because there’s no way he heard that right. He’d only just come to terms that he had feelings. This is much bigger.

“You’re joking,” Gareth pipes in, “you don’t even know it? Dude, you’re all ‘I miss you, trouble, you’re my favorite person ever.’” He does a knowingly terrible impression of Eddie.

“I do not sound like that.”

“You kinda do,” Jeff says.

“Why else would you be spending hours in that room on the phone, man? Come on,” Gareth sing songs the next bit: “you’re in loooove.”

Then Eddie thinks and thinks and thinks. The warmth that blooms when he hugs you, the jealousy he felt when he thought that server at Benny’s was flirting with you, the difficulty to say goodbye, the way your kiss haunts him in his sleep.

These idiots aren’t usually right about things, but just this once, maybe they are. Eddie Munson is probably, very likely, definitely in love with you.

Yeah, he’s so fucked.

♫♩♪♬

thank you so so much for reading!!! if you enjoyed please please please consider reblogging and letting me know what you think! it helps and means so much <333 i have plans for a part two, and if you’d like to see it, some support would help a bunch! ily!

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cosmal · 1 year

Note

Poly!Marauders x touch-starved fem!reader who’s too embarrassed to ask for attention..

cuddle

summary you really want a hug from your boys

content poly!marauders x fem!reader

note i don’t like this sorry

You get home from work later than you'd anticipated. You're exhausted, every step you take feels heavy, slow. You smell like the tube and your limbs are screaming for a hot shower.

But when you see your boys, you bubble with adoration.

You've all only just moved in together, the routine is fresh and exciting. You're not used to coming home to being welcomed by a parade of love and something on the stove.

You hang your coat and take off your shoes. The feet of your tights are a little damp. Sirius meets you in the hall.

"You're home," he says with a smack of a kiss to your cheek. You beam. "Is it raining out there? Sweetheart, I would've come and picked you up."

"It's okay," you smile. You think he's just finished work too, he's probably just as tired. "I read on the train." Sirius doesn't look pleased.

James hugs you as soon as he sees you. He's all flushed like he's just gotten back from the gym. Grey sweats and a black hoodie. You melt under his affection. "Cold out there, huh?"

"Yeah," you say quietly. You struggle to not show how affected you feel under their loving. You tuck a damp curl away from his face instead. Ignoring how warm your face feels. "You feeling tired?"

"A little."

"My poor baby." You kiss his shoulder and follow the sound of your name from the kitchen. James groans.

You're welcomed by Remus's long arms and a kiss to the top of your head when you find him. He keeps an eye on his sauteed vegetables while he squishes you. The heat from the stove hugs your face while you feel just as shy in his hold as you did the others. You wonder if you'll ever get used to it.

Eventually, Remus gets busy with dinner, boiling pasta and adding sauce to the veg. Sirius sets himself up behind his computer, and James gets in the shower. You were hoping, selfishly, for an invitation from him but felt stupid for thinking so. He’s tired. Sirius would probably whinge. Understandably.

You sit on your bed, work skirt and top discarded. A pair of tights and the vest makes you look a little funny but you don’t have it in you to care. You know the boys wouldn't mind either.

You wonder what they’d say if you asked them to cuddle. You know, hopefully, that their answer would most likely be yes. You just don’t like how you’d sound. Because, you really hate yourself for it, you’ve never actually had to ask them. They hug and kiss you all the time like they have a sixth sense for when you need it.

You feel tired, bored. You know they'd be the perfect fix. You just don't know how to go about it. Hey, Remus, wanna cuddle? Sirius, come sit on the lounge? James, your lips look pretty soft today.

You walk out into the main part of the house and it smells even better. Welcoming. You stand in the lounge room, damp tights pressed into the crush of carpet. Sirius is busy, Remus is making sure his pasta doesn't turn to mush, and you think James is still washing his hair.

You're used to your own routine after work but now you want to include the others because it makes sense. You feel silly.

Sirius looks up from his computer, his jaw washed in blue light. He pushes his reading glasses up his face and into his hair. "You okay, darling?"

You turn, mildly startled, with the pad of your finger in your mouth. You blink slowly. "Hmm?"

He seems half-amused, turning in his chair until he can see you properly. You feel barer than your clothes can allow. "You're half naked in the sitting room."

"Sorry," you wrinkle your face up. You're without a plan now and feel embarrassed. "I was gonna..."

As Sirius stands from his chair, James comes out of your room in his pyjamas on and a towel over his shoulder. His curls damp and a little flat. You think you might put some cream in them later if you remember.

Sirius stands in front of you, James stands to the side, half curious. "You were gonna?"

You swallow. Sirius has a funny way of making you shy. Probably because you know he'd have no problem asking you for a kiss, he does it every day. You're half-envious, half-nervous.

You duck your head, much to both boys' displeasure, and twist your feet until your tights bunch. "I feel silly now."

"Sirius does that sometimes," James says from over your shoulder. You can sense the look Sirius shoots him without having to look at them. You bite back a smile.

Sirius encourages your face up with the side of his finger under your chin. Your skin feels branded. "Hey, it's okay. What's on your mind?"

"You guys are busy."

"Not really," Sirius says softly. You really, really want to hold his hand.

"Yeah?"

"Well, Remus is," Sirius says. "But James and I are free."

You try to work up your courage and remember it's just Sirius. "Could we, maybe..." Sirius smiles, pretty teeth peeking out from his smooth lips. It strikes your heart alight. "Coul we maybe cuddle? Or something, I don't know, I just really need a hug."

You watch Sirius's shoulders fall. Letting out a breath he's been holding in. He relaxes. "Oh, baby, that's all?" He gets you into his arms when you pout. "I thought it was like super serious."

"It is serious," you mope into his button-up. "I really wanted a hug. I just didn't know how to ask."

"You're right," He steals a hand from your back to cradle your face. He holds you back and pushes a finger into your cheek. He looks mildly put out. "You're right, that is super serious. You know you don't have to ask for a hug, right?"

James finally comes around to steal you from Sirius. Gets you into his chest and hugs you until you're smothered. "You never have to ask any of us for a hug. Or a kiss. We're free range, baby."

"You guys were doing stuff," you go a little limp against his frame. He holds you up like you're nothing. "I felt stupid. I was just bored."

"Doesn't matter," he kisses the top of your head, swaying you back and forth a bit. “Hug me whenever. I know the others feels the same.”

“Even when I’m dressed like this?” You smother a giggle into his neck.

“Especially when you’re dressed like this,” James says. Sirius seconds it.

“Okay,” you sigh.

Lovesick, still hugging in the sitting room, you hear Remus call out that dinner’s now ready. You follow each other into the kitchen like a bunch of children.

You plate up your dinner while Sirius butters you a fresh roll. You smack a loving kiss to Remus’s cheek. “Thanks, Rem. Smells amazing.”

“Hey, can we eat on the sofa tonight?” James asks, already shovelling pasta into his mouth.

“Why?” Remus asks.

“Y/N wants to spend more time with us,” James wipes some sauce from his face, “She really wants to cuddle.”

“Oh, honey,” Remus pouts, “Why didn’t you just ask? I’ve been wanting to hug you all night.”

“That’s what I said!” You hear Sirius from behind you.

You warm, stuffing your mouth full of pasta to distract yourself.

The boys cuddle you all night.

#james potter #james potter x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #sirius black #sirius black x reader #james potter fanfiction #remus lupin fanfiction #sirius black fanfiction #poly!marauders #poly!marauders x reader #poly marauders #poly marauders fanfic

5K notes · View notes

superluver · 7 months

Text

Together again | Gojo Satoru

wc: 1282

warnings: MAJOR SPOILER WARNING, SPOILERS FOR SHIBUYA INCIDENT ARC AND MANGA, Chapter 236, mentions of pregnancy(literally one word), FEM!Reader, Wife reader — NOT PROOFREAD

(I didnt put an exact warning because it would literallt give away what happened)

Pairing: Husband!GojoxWife!Reader

desc: You meet with Gojo after two long months

He doesn't remember much, just a blink and he was back as his high school self. A female, hand on her hip, a curious expression written all over her face. Staring at him, she tilted her head. “Satoru? What are you doing here?”

Satoru Gojo wants to laugh, like this was all some cruel joke.

Here you were, in front of him after not having seen your face(though younger) in almost 2 months since the incident in Shibuya— where you died.

He partially blamed himself. He watched you during your last moments, and selfishly, he’s grateful he didn’t actually see your death. His wife, his one and only. He smiles, and laughes as he pulls you in by your waist into a hug. “My boy did so good,” you whisper, allowing him to dig his head further into your torso as you giggle, your own fingers curling in his hair.

You smell exactly the same, like home. A home he never got to give you.

After he’s done being whiny, and well, a child, he pouts, throwing his head back.

“Aw man this is awful!” He shouts, and you laugh. The person he doesn't realize sitting beside him speaks up.

Suguru. His best friend, the one he had to kill, the one that would keep him up at night. The one that—

“Guess you were wrong.” you giggle, and Suguru stares at the two of you like you were keeping a secret joke from him.

You point at him mischievously, “He was all like, when you die you die alone, to his students, but look at the reality of it— well not really reality but still!”

He whines, “(Y/N)!!!”

Suguru breaks the ice, “How was the king of curses?”

Satoru huffs, shaking his head with a half hearted grin. He nods his head so the side, the empty seat beside him— which you take, his hand taking yours while you sit

It’s cold, just like his.

The tip of his nose hits the back of your palm, his eyes are closed before opening halflidded, staring out into the floor. His eyes peer over the overly tinted glasses, responding, “That guy was too damn strong, and he wasn’t even trying.”

It was almost mumbled, like a child complaining. Still holding your hand, he looks at Suguru, “To be completely honest, I don’t think I would even be able win.. regardless if he had Megumi’s cursed technique or not. The guy had too much up his sleeve.”

Your free hand pats his arm, laughing loudly you shake him lightly with a coo, “It’s alright, you’re my loser anyways baby,” you say with pressed eyebrows and puckered lips, almost teasingly.

He rolls his eyes, biting your hand lightly.

“I gave everything I had. Just a little sad you guys weren't there to support me, maybe you would’ve been able to give me a slap on the back to motivate me,” He jokes, shaking his head with closed eyes, imagining Suguru and yourself in the crowd of students.

“I’m glad that he was the one to kill me.” He confessed.

Somebody stronger than me. He wanted to say.

“It’s kind of gross hearing that from you, Gojo. You sound like a samurai general.”

You’re laugher bubbles up from your throat, tears forming as you turn back feom your seat.

“Kento, you’ll never change, will you?” You laugh, watching Satoru smack Nanami on the head multiple times, ruffling his hair in the process. You get up, releasing Satoru’s hand to sit in the seat besides Nanami. Smiling as the seat behind you is now empty.

Shoko.

It was for her, she was the last of the group, and you hope she wouldn't be here for a while.

“I won’t justify him, but I’ll sympathize with you.. I guess..” he mumbles, causing you to slap him on the shoulder with no ill intent, laughter from his stoicness.

“Hey!” Satoru snaps back, and you reach over and pinch his cheek.

“What I’m trying to say is, it was a fitting way to go out, Gojo.”

“You should be morw polite to your Juniors.” You chastise Satoru.

“I was already nice enough to you!” He retorts, and you tilt your head with a smile. His hand takes yours that was clipped to his cheek back in his,

“What was it like for you guys in your last moments?”

You blink, looking around the room.

“It was kind of scary,” you start, and he clenches your hand slightly. He remembers how the two of you split, you pecked him on the cheek with a determined expression, clenching your fist you told him you would be back, before warping to Harajuku. It was the last time he woult see you conscious.

You had crossed paths with Mahito, and you had it under control, until you didn't. Your weak nature, strong virtue, Satoru told you these would get in the way of you becoming a sorcerer, but you would always brush him off, telling him, I’m fine.

But you couldn’t help it, seeing a small girl in the line of Mahito’s path of destruction. Your arm was the price to pay for her life.

And, maybe you had lost too much blood, you cant remember, it’s a blur, but Satoru remembers.

Your leg contorted in a way he coulf only asume was unfoxable, your arm missing, eye streaming blood, you were dead. But his six eyes said you were alive, that you both were. And he was hopeless, tued up by the prisom realm, watching your eyes dim, he watched you die.

“To be honest, I wanted to quit with Kento, but I just couldn't bring myself to leave you alone doing all this. I don’t regret it to the end,” you smile loving at him, and he feels like vomiting.

“I would do this a thousand times over if I got to be with you every time.” You tell him sweetly, and Nanami coughs, “Enough with the sappy shit.” He grumbles.

You laugh again, and stare at Suguru. He looks back at you, and you feel your lips curling back up into a brighter smile. The man who defected, the man who left you all, he was here, and with you all.

“Once,” all attention back to Nanami. “When I was discussing with Mei-san about where I should move, she told me to move North to become someone new, and to move south to stay the person you are. Naturally, I chose South. I think it’s ironic how I died while betting on my future. But it wasn’t too bad because of Haibara.”

Haibara grins, “Aw! You’re too kind!”

“I see..” Satoru says, and you squeeze his hand back. His head snaps upward, looking right in front of him to Yaga, his voice as annoying as ever, “Yo Yaga! I thought you said no sorcerer dies without regrets!”

You laugh, and he laughs back, the room filled with laughter, Riko, Kuroi, Kento and Yu, Suguru, even Yaga.

“Now I’m hoping this isn’t a dream.” He confesses, while standing up, and you smile.

“It’s not, ya big loser!”

You shout, standing up from your chair and throwing yourself over it, crushing him. He falls back onto the ground, and Suguru jumps on top of you, Yu crushing him as Satoru wheezes, and you see him smirk.

“Welcome back!” You grin, Suguru’s face smushed next to your own. Haibara’s chin resting in between the two of yours.

He takes in the scene in front of him, everybody he’s loved all together, and finally, his arms wrap around the three of you, and he’s just so happy, that he doesn’t even Think about going back.

CLEAR MINDSET THIS IS MY REALITY NO ONE TELLS ME OTHERWISE SHUSH

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yoisami · 5 months

Text

tags. itoshi rin x gn!reader, fluff, 0.7k wc, established relationship, characters are aged up, i feel like rin has cold hands idk, rin misses you a lot :(

when rin enters your shared bedroom, expecting you to be waiting for his return as you busied yourself on your phone, he’s puzzled to see you lying on your side on the bed, breathing steadily and seeming to have fallen asleep.

this astounds him, really, because you typically fall asleep after midnight, but today was an exception. with your eyes shut and your face nestled into the edge of your pillow, it appears that rin feels too guilty to wake you up in this instance.

however, the athlete admits that he’s sulking on the side because you were supposed to be awake, ready to offer an hour of cuddles before he goes to sleep. afterall, rin had finally returned to japan after a month overseas—he assumed that you would want to savour his affection after thirty days of separation.

but it looks like his prediction was incorrect because you’re fast asleep without needing the comfort and security of his arms. maybe you don’t need him, but he needs you—he misses you terribly.

spending thirty days without your presence was almost a form of torture, and to rin, it felt like a birthright that had been seized from his arms. you’re more than just a mere part of his daily routine, so for him to skip his regular hugs and kisses was very odd. it wasn’t unbearable—rin survived the month without your physical affection, but frankly, he prefers to survive with it.

rin is well aware that your love is a privilege, and it’s one that he swears to never take for granted. he’s thrived for twenty years without your love, but after having a taste of it two summers ago, it’s left him somewhat unsatiated—rin still wonders what it’d truly feel like to selfishly keep all your love to himself.

but rin couldn’t ever fill all the spaces inside your heart. you have plenty of love to give—to your family, your friends, even strangers—and that’s a reason why he adores you so much. you’re selfless and always willing to share a piece of your love with everyone, even though you barely have enough for yourself.

rin gingerly slips inside the duvet, making gentle movements to avoid accidentally waking you. his side of the bed dips a little when he shifts to his side with your back facing him.

the moment rin extends his arm out to your waist, you breathe out his name, your voice sounding a little lower than how it usually is during the day.

in a similar volume, rin responds. “hmm?”

your eyes remain shut when you turn to lie on your right side, but like muscle memory, your fingers find themselves clutching onto his shirt. it’s one of the many requests you make that doesn’t require any words for it to be fulfilled because rin knows exactly what you want.

so without a thought, his hand rests atop your cheek, and like waves in the ocean, they travel back and forth, from your temple to your scalp. a content hum leaves your lips.

“y’know, the apartment was strangely quieter without you in it,” you begin, your head inclining into rin’s chest. “and it didn’t make sense to me... because i normally do the talking anyway.”

even though the curtains are perfectly shut, the streetlights from below still made their presence inside the bedroom. it lands behind you, delicately underlining every single one of your features as rin’s thumb traces the shadows on your skin. this is the golden view of your face, and he’s missed it.

“i’ve missed you.”

though you’re half-awake, you’re still able to successfully tease him. the room is dark, but rin is able to make out the tiny smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “how much?”

“like, a lot,” he whispers, his lips moving against your forehead. then he presses a kiss. “more than a lot.”

“what are you going to do when you leave me for another tournament again?”

“teach you how to play soccer and i’ll make sure you’re on the team. then you can come along, and i won’t have to miss you like this again.”

your chuckle is quiet, but it’s just loud enough for rin to hear it.

“sounds like a plan.”

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theemporium · 2 months

Note

Okay as for Jack blurb idea : what about Jack dating the sister of one of the players (either Trevor, Jesper, Nico or whoever you prefer) and said player finding out. The brother being more confused as to how he didn't notice?

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

“Fuck, I missed you.”

You let out a noise mixed between a laugh and a groan as the boy slumped his body over yours, his face pressed into the crook of your neck and his limbs tangling with yours on the small couch in your living room.

“Clingy,” you teased as your hand rested on the back of his head, nails lightly scratching his scalp.

Jack huffed. “I was gone for ten days.”

“You were.”

He lifted his head and narrowed his eyes at you. “We have barely spoken beyond messages for ten days. The last time we saw each other was four days before that. That is almost two weeks without me. Are you saying you didn’t miss me?”

“You’re so dramatic,” you murmured with a grin before leaning over to kiss his lips. “Of course I missed you, loser. But the messages are your fault. It was your choice to be room buddies with my brother for the roadie.”

“He asked me and I couldn’t think of a reason fast enough to say no,” Jack murmured, his cheeks tinted pink and it just made you laugh. “And Luke is a fucking snake. He already said yes to John.”

“Can’t believe my brother was probably getting more action with you than I was in the last two weeks,” you snorted.

Jack’s cheeks burned. “I didn’t do anything with Nico.”

You raised your brows. “So, you both don’t cuddle sometimes after a bad game?”

Jack fell silent for a few moments before he spoke. “He’s comfy and he gives good hugs.”

You laughed again, a little louder this time but something about the sound made Jack relax. His body sagged in relief, his head resting into the crook of your neck once again and you wound your arms around him tightly.

It had been late by the time the team reached New Jersey again after a ten day roadie away from home. But Jack had sounded dejected in the last post-game interview after losing the last game and you knew he was getting in his own head about the whole thing so you messaged him to come to your place after he landed.

And, selfishly, you just wanted to see him again. You wanted to see him, hold him, kiss him again after far too long apart. And it seemed like Jack was in no disagreement there, having practically attached himself to you since he walked through the door.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Jack sighed. “Not much to talk about, is there?”

“Jack…”

He sighed again, lifting his head to look at you with a frustrated frown. “I could have done more. I could have—”

“Hockey is a team sport,” you reminded him with a pointed look. “It’s not just your fault.”

“I know that,” he mumbled before shrugging. “Just don’t like disappointing people.”

“You’re not disappointing anyone, baby,” you murmured softly as you cupped his cheek, thumb swiping over his skin in a soothing motion. “Nico raves about you all the time. The whole team does.”

His cheeks burned pink again. “Whatever.”

“Not so cocky now, huh?” You joked lightly, watching as his lips twitched upwards. You knew he was trying to fight it, that he felt like he deserved to stew in his misery a little longer. “C’mon, Rowdy, what would all those people who pay to see you play think if they saw you blushing now?”

“Shut up,” he finally laughed, a grin spread across his face as he looked down at you, shaking his head. “You’re never gonna let me live that down.”

“Never,” you promised. “Now, hurry up and kiss me.”

And Jack didn’t even hesitate as he leaned down to press his lips against yours.

Because Jack Hughes was addicting in a way you never knew another person to be. Your body craved him in a way you had never experienced with past partners, even beyond touch. You craved to be near him, to talk with him, to laugh with him. You just wanted to be with him.

But, fuck, his kisses really did take the cake and, after two weeks of nothing, you were fucking relieved to finally experience them again.

So lost in your own addiction that you didn’t hear the front door open.

“What the fuck?”

Both of your heads snapped around to find Nico standing beside the door to your apartment, keys in hand and a shocked expression painted all over his face.

But then Nico’s eyes focused on Jack, like he suddenly realised he knew the random guy lying on top of his sister and his eyes widened even more.

“Jack?!”

It was like that shocked shrill in his voice was all Jack needed to scramble up from his spot on the couch, clearing his throat and trying to smooth down his clothes. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

Nico blinked. “It looks like you were making out with my sister.”

He paused. “Okay, so maybe it’s kinda what it looks like—”

Nico shook his head. “How long has this been going on?”

You flashed your older brother a sheepish smile. “A couple of months.”

“Months?!”

Jack winced. “Look, dude, I didn’t—”

“You know what, I’m too tired to have this conversation,” Nico grumbled as he glanced between the two of you before sighing. “Next time, check your phone so you can see when I’m coming over.” There was a pause. “And I’m coming over tomorrow so we can…talk about this, so please be fucking decent when I get here.”

Both of you nodded.

“Right. Good. Now, if you excuse me, I need to go bleach my eyes and call Mum.”

Your eyes widened. “What—”

“You heard what I said.”

#jack hughes #nhl #new jersey devils #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes x you #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes fic #jack hughes one shot #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot

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multifandomgirl08 · 6 months

Text

To Constantly Be Away [Mini Verstappen Series]

Dad!Max Verstappen x Wife!Reader (Established Relationship)

Summary: Second race of the season and Max is already having a tough time with the car. Missing his family only makes it worse.

Warning(s): Fluff

A/N: I stayed up late watching qualifying and the race in Singapore while working on this, and took out my stress watching that on Mini Verstappen verse Max.

Words: 1.7k

Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist

It had been a bad weekend for Max, the car wasn��t running right with the new upgrades that had been added. They were starting P10 in the race. Y/N couldn’t fly to Jeddah with Nico because she was on call through the weekend. Everything was just going horribly wrong.

“Max!” He heard Christian call him over. “I know that you’re not in the best spirits right now, but I need to make sure that you’re okay.”

Christian did occasionally still check in with him before races, but given that Max hadn’t felt like this since before Daniel had left Red Bull. It felt nice that Christian could still pick up on those things after all this time.

“Call Y/N if you have to, find a way to talk to her or Nico.” Christian laid a hand on Max’s arm. “I know you’ll feel better for it once you have.”

Max tried to manage a smile but just gave him a stiff nod at the end.

Y/N had texted him when she got out of helping one of her co-workers with an issue one hour after he was already at the track for the race. She let him know that Nico had been sitting in front of the TV all afternoon waiting for the race to start before ordering an early dinner. In the photo that she sent, he could see her laptop open to her work email, Nico on his spot on the couch hugging one of the throw pillows. It had made some of Max's nerves go away but he still needed to talk to her at least for a few minutes.

He tapped his fingers against the screen of his phone, looking at the photo of her and Nico napping in his and Y/N’s bed. He let his phone unlock before pulling up his contacts and pressing on Y/N’s name. He stared at it for a few seconds before putting his phone up to his ear.

“Hello?” He heard her voice.

Max let his shoulders deflate, “Mijn leeuwin?” He stammered out.

“Hey Maxy,” She didn’t call him that often, only when she thought he really needed the comfort.

“Hi,” He weakly replied.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” He choked out, trying to brush off the sound of concern in her voice. He didn’t want to make Y/N upset or let her know how horrible he was feeling about being in the car. There was nothing that she could do to make the car better for him to drive.

He didn’t want to be at the track without his family. It felt wrong. He knew that Nico and Y/N were watching at home, and were supporting him even if they couldn’t be there but he selfishly wanted them here.

He heard Y/N sigh over the phone, “Do you want to talk to Nico? He’s coloring in front of the TV.”

“No, it’s not that bad.” He let slip out. He didn’t want to alarm her about how he was feeling. Brad would be coming into his driver's room soon before the race and he just needed a few moments to collect himself.

“Can you tell me about him? Tell me what he’s doing.” He asked.

“Sure,” He didn’t know if she was doing anything for work at the moment. But he knew that if she was, she was putting it aside for a few moments to calm him down. He could imagine her sitting on the couch with the caramel cashmere Hermés blanket thrown over her legs that had been gifted to them after they had moved. He could feel some of the pain of his headache slowly seep away as Y/N talked about Nico seeing Christian on the TV asking when was the next time that he could see Grandpa and Grandma GG. Max couldn’t help the smile that broke out when remembering that Nico couldn’t pronounce Geri’s name. It always ended up sounding like Gewy. The more she talked the more Max felt like he was in the right headspace to get inside the car. 50 laps, media, and then once he got on the plane he would be on his way home to his family.

They had talked until Brad had come into Max’s room to help him get ready for the race. Max had begrudgingly said goodbye.

“I love you.” He heard from Y/N.

“Love you, Papa!” He heard Nico yell. “Good luck.”

“I love you too, both of you.” He said cradling the phone in his hand. “Be home soon.”

Max pulled the phone away from his ear, giving Brad a small nod. Ready to go out there and give the race his all.

As the race went on it wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. It wasn’t great, the major issues with the car seemed to go away after qualifying luckily. It was running closer to what he was used to. Even with those issues, he had somehow managed to finish P3. It felt like a miracle given how the weekend had been going.

He avoided the press as much as he could until he had to go for his post-race press conference and talk to the other journalists.

Everything felt so draining today. Normally he would talk to the team, and try to figure things out with GP about what went wrong earlier in the weekend but he just wanted to go home. He knew it was the thing that would set his head right.

Once his car got to the private airport, the next four hours passed by rather slowly. It was too quiet on the plane, Nico wasn’t bothering the stewardess on board about snacks, and Y/N wasn’t carding her fingers through his hair while she aimlessly checked her phone. He would normally end up taking a nap throughout the flight. She would wake him up slowly. He would start to grumble that she woke him up before her laugh would kick in. It was the best sound that he could hear after a long day on the track.

The drive from the airport was taking too long. Once he got to the house, he pulled into the garage. It took him almost no time to get his bag, lock his car, and make his way through the side door before walking into the living room.

Max quietly closed the door. Given how late it was Nico was probably asleep. Y/N would let him stay up to watch the race but once it was over, podium or not Y/N would have Nico get ready for bed.

He placed his keys in the bowl by the door, quietly walking through the house that was still covered in half-unpacked boxes. He went downstairs, walking by Nico's room to see the light turned off. Max opened the door, the hall light showing Nico's empty bed and missing pillow. That could only mean one thing...

He quietly walked towards the master bedroom, pushing open the door that was half closed. The moon casting a shadow over the bed, to see Y/N and Nico asleep under the covers, his side of the bed, open and waiting for him.

Nico normally wasn’t allowed to sleep in here with him and Y/N. Unless he had a nightmare, Nico would sleep in his own bed. She probably made an exception tonight because she didn’t know when his flight was going to get in.

He moved to the foot of the bed to take off his shoes.

"Max?" He heard as he slipped his shoes off. Then left them at the foot of the bed, making a mental note to put them away in the morning.

He turned his head to see Y/N barely awake, leaning against the pillows. Max shrugged off his jacket before walking over to her.

"Hi, mijn leeuwin." He was quick to kiss her forehead.

Over the last month since the wedding, Max had stopped questioning how Y/N fit into his life. The way that she could accept everything that was going on with his schedule and Nico. She took it all with so much grace. He never knew that someone could.

“Hey.” She muttered.

“I’ll change and then be in bed.” He watched her slightly nod until she laid her head back against the pillow. Nico turned over and moved to curl up next to her.

He was quick to remove his shirt and took off the skinny jeans that he was wearing, his socks getting stuck in the denim before throwing all of it into the laundry basket in the bathroom. His feet tapped against the cold tile, the transition of the wood doing nothing to warm his feet.

Max pulled back the sheets from his side of the bed being careful not to wake Nico. He took off his watch, put it on his nightstand, and then climbed under the black sheets of the bed. Max turned over towards his son and wife, pulling them in closer. All of the stress from the race seeping out of him, finally feeling like himself again.

Not Mad Max, not Super Max. Just Max.

Max closed his eyes, just letting himself lay there for a few moments. Taking in the quiet sound of the house, Nico sleeping next to him, Y/N within arms reach. He reached over, lightly stroking her cheek. He looked over meeting her eyes in the dark. He could see her lips form the question, "Are you okay?"

He nodded back brushing his thumb over her cheek again seeing her eyes flutter closed.

It blew Max away sometimes that this was his life. That by the age of 27 he had a wife and a child. The WDCs were nice and they were things that he was happy he had achieved, but this right here was what mattered to him most. The people that he got to come home to after stressful weekends and hard-fought victories. This was what was important to him.

Max settled further into his pillow ready to let sleep take him when he felt short hair brush over his arm. He opened one eye to see Nico had moved his head to rest against his shoulder. Max kissed the side of his son’s head, finally letting sleep take him.

taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @musingsbyshreya, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @fanboyluvr, @champomiel, @gothicwidowsworld, @lighttsoutlewis, @itsalwaysgay, @minkyungseokie

#mini verstappen series #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #f1 imagine #mv1 imagine #mv33 imagine #formula 1 imagine #mv1 x reader #mv33 x reader #max verstappen x you

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mrswint3rs · 3 months

Note

thinking of reno sinclair going feral :3

‘Just’ Friends ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

pairings- Fwb! Reno x Fem! Reader

a/n- i’ve been wanting to write for ff7 characters so bad but I didn’t know if people actually wanted it so !!

cw- 18+ content!!, needy and possessive Reno, unprotected sex, brief vaginal fingering and nipple stimulation (rushed ass ending im sorry) 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

Reno was perfectly fine with the relationship you had going. He could have you whenever he wanted while still having his own freedom. You weren’t committed to him, and he wasn’t committed to you.

There were no worries over potential breakups which he feared the most.

You were best friends, he couldn’t bare the thought of a silly breakup making you part ways. Which is why you collectively decided on being friends with benefits. Not too close, not too far.

It worked perfectly for the both of you. You could still have a semi-normal friendship without the burden of having set rules or worrying about upsetting one another.

But when Reno gets word of your new potential boyfriend, he can’t handle it.

Yeah, you weren’t dating or anything, but he thought you had something special with each other anyway.

He knew he didn’t have a right to be upset. You weren’t the only girl Reno was seeing. He’d tried things out a few times with others. Even so, you were his favorite, his main priority. He would throw them all away for you if you asked. They were nothing compared to you.

But as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he knew you were allowed to find an actual relationship.

He almost accepted it. When you straight up told him about your stupid date with this other guy scheduled for tonight, he tried so hard to act unbothered. You seemed so happy about it and all. He didn’t want to be selfish. He couldn’t help it though.

He couldn’t just let some random steal you away from him.

You’re dressed all nice and pretty, dolled up from head to toe. Reno almost feels bad, knowing you weren’t going to go. No chance in hell he was letting that guy see you at your best.

Selfishly, he pulls you down onto the bed with him, immediately going to unzip the back of your dress that hugged your curves perfectly, letting it slip off your shoulders. His lips come down to trail across the exposed flesh of your back, leaving soft love bites as they go.

“Reno…I’m gonna be late.”

“Cancel it.” he sighs, burying his face in your hair.

“Just stay with me tonight.”

He pulls your dress the rest of the way down, revealing your bare chest and lace underwear. You really went all out, buying a whole new set. Obviously you were expecting to get some tonight, which only wounded him further. He hated that he felt like this. He didn’t know how to express it, or get rid of it. All he knew was that you were going to be his.

“I can’t just cancel it…” you counter almost seriously until he cupped your breasts in his hands, squeezing and rubbing his thumb in intricate circles over your nipples.

Your voice gives out. Your thighs come together as if trying to forcefully stop the heat from pooling between them. He was giving you those puppy dog eyes, kissing and nuzzling along your neck so soft and sweet.

He pulls you onto his lap and you immediately take notice of his erection pressing right against your rear through his pants. “Let me make you feel good tonight,” he pleads into the crook of your neck, practically pouting. “I can do whatever you want, just don’t go.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to deny him when he was being so clingy. His hands travel down your midriff, tantalizingly rubbing along the way down to your panties.

He slips his hand through the front, dipping his fingers into your wetness, rubbing in light circles around your puffy clit.

“Fine, I’ll stay.” you moan. You knew how stubborn Reno could be and you could never say no to him.

He slides two fingers inside you, fishing for that sensitive spot. He slowly thrusts in and out and you find yourself pushing into it, craving something deeper.

His free hand gropes your tit, rolling your nipple between his forefinger and thumb, intensifying the feeling between your legs. “You’re so wet for me,” he groans as you squirm against his cock. He uncontrollably rubs back against you. “Do you want it?”

Without even thinking, you nod and he rushes to free himself from his restraints.

You straddle his lap, facing him with his length pressed right against your stomach, throbbing and twitching with need.

He leans in to close the gap between you, pressing his lips against yours. He starts off with slow and loving deep kisses before he gets riled up and can’t control himself. His mouth devours yours, tongue desperately jabbing at your own. Neither of you care about the clashing of teeth, panting and moaning into each others mouths.

You heighten yourself on your knees, arms wrapped around his shoulders as you hover over the top of his member.

His hands find their way to your hips and push you down onto him without warning. Your pussy swallows him up with ease and both of you synchronize sounds of pleasure.

“Fuck…you feel so tight-“ he whines, pulling away from the kiss to look into your eyes.

Your face contorts in pleasure as you start to sink yourself on him. He makes equal efforts, jerking his hips to slam into you.

Reno’s eyes travel down your frame, watching the way your tits bounce along with you. They were one of his favorite things about you and it made him more aware of how hard he was going at it.

When you start to cry out his name, he gets all dizzy. You call for him so desperately he can hardly take it. It makes him feel all needy.

He pounds into your pussy, chasing his high and losing sight of all else.

You clamp down on him as you cum, eyes rolling back and legs shaking. He can’t stop his own movements. He rapidly thrusts into you, completely filling you as he reaches a breathtaking orgasm.

He holds you tight against him, comfortingly cooing you as you both come down from it all. You slowly melt into his arms, growing tired and feeling satisfied. Reno lays down with you.

Neither of you care enough to clean up the mess you’ve made at the moment. You only cared about staying close and basking in the aftermath.

Panting, sweaty messes, you lay silently for a while before Reno breaks the silence as usual.

“Will you…be my official girlfriend?”

#smut #fanfiction #final fantasy x reader #ffvii x reader #ffvii #reno x reader #reno smut #anon ask #final fantasy series #final fantasy vii #final fantasy 7 #ff7 #ff7 remake #reno of the turks

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arminsumi · 9 months

Note

so happy you're writing for gojo and getou!! You make my day fr <3

Thinking of ex getou hc... he annoyingly drapes himself over you like your not broken up, still brings you lunch and snacks when he knows your craving them, hugs you for way too long Infront of other men until you break and take him again <33

He would not be afraid of being toxic if it ment getting you back

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒꒱ ex-boyfriend

GETO x f.reader

A/N: i am in pieces at the word choice 'drapes' 😩 thank you for your request — so happy i can make your day 💗 i kinda... wrote an excessive amount srry if i deviated a bit i was in a real suguru state of mind

♪ NOW PLAYING: don't blame me, your love made me crazy

Wc: >900

Overview; Suguru just can't let you go. His mad love reels you back into his arms.

Content; fluff, (ex.bf) headcanons

Warnings; light toxicity, light obsessiveness/possessiveness (?), jealousy, he doesn't let you leave

arminsumi's library

— He is the definition of the "I'm not her ex" ex-boyfriend. Anyone who asks "Did you two split?" will be met with a firm "No. We're just working things out." from Geto before you can even open your mouth to speak.

— Soft, good-smelling, and good-looking; his aura permeates through the air of your apartment as soon as he walks in. He unashamedly invited himself over and said "Aren't you lonely without me? C'mon admit it. I'll make some tea, do you want? Okay then, I'll make you one anyways."

— Behind those abyssal eyes are all his unchanged feelings for you; his one and only. He can't move on. You have a death grip on his mind; he thinks about you in the shower, on the road, walking to the store, while shopping. Daydreams of you are plastered throughout his routines.

— He engulfs you in a consuming hug and peers down at you with a tender look. He's so much bigger than you; the broadness of his shoulders are laughable in comparison to yours. "Missed you, baby." he says, usually pressing a kiss to your cheek (smirking when you swat him away like a fly), and he says that a lot; you can feel the weight in each word.

— Of course... when in front of other men, his hugs seem to get clingier. Heavier. Longer. More possessive. He hangs on your body as if he's the clothes on your back. His scent lingers on you.

— Still lends you his oversized T-shirts and insists that you wear them before heading out for coffee with your coworker, Gojo. Asks for 'proof' pics that you really are wearing his shirt.

— He calls you by the nickname you always favored, the one that had the power to weaken your knees to the point of falling to them. Paired with that silken, dangerously attractive voice and the yearning glint in his eyes, you're a goner.

— He's always been able to read you like an unravelling scroll. As if you're a painting and he's an artist, he knows every brush stroke that creates an artwork like you.

So when you push him away, he knows that you actually want him to hold you tight. When you tell him to give up, you actually want him to try harder. And when you shakily answer no to his inquiry about "Do you still feel for me?" he knows you actually mean yes.

— Leans in to whisper something in your ear when you've got company or guests over at a party. He loves forming a barrier of intimacy between you and him in a public setting; he thinks that they should all witness how capable he still is of flustering you. His heart lurches when you react to his whispers with the same swooning smile as you did in high school.

— He pops up at your workplace, "I got you your favorite." he says with a smooth smile that you instantly succumb to.

— He selfishly drags you back into his arms like Hades mythically dragged Persephone back into the underworld.

— You want to move on from him ? Nope, not happening. He's dead set, completely determined, to dig his way back into your heart.

— Needles of jealousy prick his chest when he sees you laughing because of someone else. He can't stand that, not even for a second, so he invades the conversation and plucks you out of it like you're a gemstone lost among rocks in a dirty river.

"Let's go." he says, "Go where?" you ask, but he whisks you away without answering.

— Honest to god, if he could snatch you away and trap you in a castle, he would. In fact, he can, minus the castle — but his penthouse will have to do 🤷‍♀️

A few lavish invitations to dinner at his place lead to you sleeping over like how you used to. It's all part of his grand scheme. "Baby, come back to me." he murmurs into your hair. "This house is so cold without you."

— Come the morning, you're readying yourself to leave for coffee with your coworker again. Stupid Sunday tradition, Geto hated it. No, he despised it; it made his head spin with anger.

"I've got to go... Suguru?" He blocks your path down the hallway, his silhouette giving hint to his serious frown. It's dark in the hallway, but not darker than his eyes.

"You're not gonna let me leave, are you?"

"No." He admits heavily. "Come on, don't look at me like that; I love you. You'll be safe here. You know what, tomorrow I'll make you your favorite for breakfast, doesn't that sound nice?"

— All these sweet words are said in a smooth, murmuring voice... while his veiny hands firmly plant on the front door and force it shut with a startling bang after you attempted to open it.

"Stay." he demands in a threatening, low voice. "Please?" he lightens it at the end, aware of how scary that probably sounded.

— He's wrapping you around his finger like how he did in the beginning. You coil around his life until, without realizing soon enough, you're back in it.

— Just like that, his love ensnares you once more, and you're happily trapped in his big strong arms.

#♥️ 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 — 夏油傑 #geto #geto suguru #suguru #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #geto x reader #geto x reader smut #suguru x reader #jjk suguru #getou suguru x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n #jujutsu geto #hcs #headcanons #jjk headcanons

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monzamash · 1 year

Note

Would love to see no. 13 with Daniel

holy shit those prompts are spicy

sheeeeesh, got carried away again with this one and combined it with another suggestion that was sent in because it felt too hot not to use 🔥

daniel ricciardo x you (femreader) | 900 words 18+ minors dni

prompts used — "how many times can i make you cum?" & "i’m not going to stop until you’re dripping with my cum"

It was his birthday, after all. Thirty years on the planet, making the lives of the people he loved better each and every day while appeasing the masses with his sunny disposition. It wasn’t a huge party by his calculation, under a hundred guests of his nearest and dearest, all vying for the opportunity to wish their gorgeous Daniel a happy birthday. But there was really only one gift he was chomping at the bit to unwrap.

You.

“This dress is my favourite,” Daniel whispered into your ear as his large hand slid across your abdomen, pinning you to his chest.

You hummed in response, cocking your head to the side with an appreciative smile, “Well I did wear it for you, birthday boy. You having fun?”

Daniel turned you in his grasp and wrapped you up in a tight hug, his pearly white smile sparkling under the pretty party lights above. There was something in his honey brown eyes when they connected with yours; a deviant glimmer that you knew all too well.

“I am but–” He paused, pressing a barely there kiss to your pouting lips, “I’d rather be home alone with you.”

Your eyebrow quirked with intrigue, “Oh yeah?” You weren’t surprised but that didn’t mean you couldn’t have a little fun with him while you had his undivided attention for the first time tonight.

“What could you possibly be doing alone with me, huh?”

It was a loaded question and Daniel took very little time to answer it, “You wouldn’t be wearing this dress for starters,” He whispered, fingertips trailing down the tight silk clinging to your skin – dark eyes scanning every inch of your body.

“Or whatever’s underneath it…”

The sly smirk across your lips spread as you toyed with the loose curls on the back of his thick neck, “Presumptuous of you to think that I’m wearing anything underneath…”

Daniel couldn’t control the low growl bubbling deep within as he tilted his head back, nor did he want to – his throat tightened as he imagined peeling off the thin material obstructing him from the one thing he really wanted right now. He was insatiable in your presence, greedy to see if you were telling the truth, hoping to god you were, and your words weren’t helping him – you were killing him.

“You can’t say that shit to me, sweetheart,” He snarled, tugging you even tighter against his warm body while his lips brushed down your exposed neck, "Not here."

Daniel’s mouth was heavenly and selfishly, you let yourself enjoy it for a brief moment before inching away – you were in public after all.

“Give me a list of things you want to do to me and I promise I’ll make them happen when we get home, baby. Please,” You begged with a whimper, wanting to hear all of the naughty thoughts racing through his brain; right here, right now.

Your name slipped through Daniel’s gritted with a whine as he dipped his head into the crook of your neck, swaying you both to the music so your closeness didn’t raise any alarms. His lips brushed along the shell of your ear, voice deep and low as he scolded you; ‘you are so bad, you know that?’ and of course you did. It’s how you caught his attention in the first place.

“But because you’re begging me I guess we can workshop together,” He sighed, happily giving in to your mischievous request.

“The first thing I wanna do is taste that sweet, sweet pussy and make you come all over my tongue – fucking love it when you ride my face, baby. And maybe we can see how many times I can make you come like that, huh? You’d like that, yeah?”

It was a rhetorical question but you nodded anyway, chin resting on Daniel’s shoulder as he whispered into your ear, “Thought so," and pressed a butterfly kiss to the top of your exposed shoulder.

“I’m always so fucking hard after watching you come undone like that, screaming my name so I reckon after that we just get down to it; maybe I'll fuck you from behind 'cause I know how much you love having me pound into ya, head buried in the sheets while I’m playing with your ass and overstimulating your precious little cunt too. Can’t forget about her, ey?”

A breathy moan slipped from your lips when Daniel’s tongue slid across the soft spot behind your ear. His booted foot nudged your feet apart and instinctually, your separated them as his tensed thigh nestling in-between your clenched ones. The contact wasn’t enough to ease the taut knot in the pit of your stomach but it was something to clutch onto as he moved you slowly from side to side, a low chuckle reverberating against your chest.

“You asked for it, baby; I’m just telling ya what I have in mind.”

“Keep going…” You whispered weakly, “Are you gonna let me come again like that?”

Daniel scoffed, “Course I will, honey. You’ll be seeing stars by the time I’m finished with ya,” He sweetly cooed as he guided your circling your hips into his, creating that friction between your thighs you so desperately needed.

“And I promise you that I will fuck you until you’re dripping with my cum because you take it so well, baby. And I know how much that turns you on, filled to the fucking brim while I fuck it deep inside you. God, I'm bloody hard just thinkin’ about it,” He shakily exhaled into your hair, dick stiff and twitching in his trousers against your thigh.

“You need to take me home right now.”

Daniel didn't need to be told twice.

the ol' smut muscle has been nicely warmed up after this one 🔥 — thoughts? feelings? let me know! askbox masterlist if you want to read more x

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo smut #f1 smut #f1 imagine #monzamashmasterlist #spicy prompts

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eomayas · 11 months

Text

new thing (pt.1) • pcy

pairing: chanyeol x f reader, age gap

genre: smut 18+ MINORS DNI!!!

synopsis: reader begins a sexual relationship with an older man who happens to be the friend of a man her best friend babysits for.

warnings: big d*ck yeol, riding, praise, ~10 year age gap

“oh my god, is that mr. kim?” you best friend, seulgi, screeches, grabbing your arm and stopping in her tracks. you follow her line of sight to a table of five men, her boss dead center. “oh my god, what if he sees me?” she says, looking at you with wide eyes.

you shrug. “so what? it’s not like you’re working,” you try to reason, but she’s frantically shaking her head.

“i babysit his kids! he can’t see me dressed like a slut,” she says, and you snicker. neither of you have enough clothes on to even make a full body suit. “let’s go the other way.” she says, and you let her pull you around the backside of the bar to get to the actual bar counter. every few moments, she keeps looking over your shoulder to check that he hasn’t seen her.

“seul, relax. you’re not even doing anything wrong. he’s chill” you say, thanking the bartender when they slide your drink across the counter. seulgi shrugs, taking a sip of her drink. you’ve met mr.kim and his wife before, and they’re really nice people, and didn’t have a problem with you hanging out with seulgi while she babysat their children.

“i mean, yeah,” she starts. “but, i don’t know, i don’t want him to see me like this. its like getting caught with your pants down.” she finishes, and you roll your eyes, because it’s not even that big of a deal. yes, neither of you are dressed appropriately for running into any respectable adult, but its a saturday night, and you’re both young.

you turn to look at his table, and make eye contact with one of the men sitting around him. he holds your gaze for a beat, a small smirk on his face, before you blush and turn around, taking a gulp of you drink and ignoring the burn of your throat. “you should probably go say hi,” you tell her, kind of selfishly. she should at least say hi, but you also want to get close to that man.

seulgi frowns at you. “why?” and when you only shrug in response, she rolls her eyes at the realization. “who did you see?” she asks, and you can’t help but giggle.

“third from mr. kim, on the left,” you say without turning around. you see seulgi pretend to scope out the room, watching as her expression morphs from a squint to sheer sonic.

“fuck! oh my god, he saw me!” she cries, turning back to you. because she’s panicked, you keep your smile to yourself and slide off of the bar stool. “fuck, fuck, fuck! this is all your fault!” she moans, dropping her head onto your bare shoulder.

you push her off and link your arm through hers. “you are literally being so dramatic. it’s just mr. kim, you can always babysit somebody else’s kids,” you try and she glares at you. you glance across the room at their table, and you make eye contact with another one of his friends. they’re expecting you both to come over. “we have fans waiting for us. cmon, girl.” you say, downing the rest of your drink and encouraging her to do the same.

you two walk over, arm in arm, and you start to feel slightly nervous when 5 pairs of eyes are watching you walk toward them. you make eye contact with the man from earlier again, and watch his eyes roam your figure, lingering on your thighs before dragging down to your feet and going back up. he leans back in his chair, and you look away from him, un phased with the attention.

“hey, seulgi!” mr. kim says, standing up from his chair to give her a hug. you can tell she feels insanely awkward hugging her boss in such little clothes, but it’s brief and he’s back in his chair before you can blink. “hello, y/n.” he says, nodding his head at you. you smile and wave, and try not to put your gaze back on the man from earlier, but it’s getting harder by the second. you can feel his eyes on you.

mr. kim introduces (and reintroduces) the four men to you and seulgi: minseok, junmyeon, baekhyun, and chanyeol. chanyeol is the one who’s been eyeing you all night, and you don’t mind it one bit. you shake everybody’s hand, and when you get to the man of the hour, you make sure to smile at him sweetly and lean forward a bit. you knew you knew your strengths, and you also knew that you were not going home alone tonight.

you and seulgi manage to get comfortable in the group of men, and take one shot with them when baekhyun suggests it. you all click the shot glasses together, and down it, only you and seulgi being the ones to drink it in one go. “oh, to be twenty-two,” junmyeon jokes, earning laughs from the other men. you set the glass down and look over at chanyeol, and let yourself take him in, he’s wearing all black; black jeans, a black button up, and black shoes that look very expensive. a gold chain is visible around his neck, but its tucked under his shirt so it is only visible due to the first three buttons being undone.

he feels eyes on him, and looks over at you. you’re shameless in your ogling, wanting him to know that you want him. he motions for you to come close to him, and you scoot your chair over, leaning forward. one of your legs is between both of his, caging you in between him. “what are you drinking?” he asks, his voice deep and raspy. you put a hand on his knee as you tell him, and he stands up, pulling you with him. you two leave in the direction of the bar, without a goodbye, only throwing a look at seulgi over your shoulder.

chanyeol leads you to the bar and orders two drinks; one for you and one for him. you take a seat on the stool while he leans against the counter, facing you. “how old are you?” you blurt. he chuckles at this, which makes you feel better.

“how old do i look?” he asks, a playful smile on his face. you pretend to think hard, humoring him, before delivering your answer.

“thirty?”

“thirty-one,” he corrects and you raise your eyebrows. ten years isnt that bad, right? it won’t feel like ten when you are older, of course, but it really isn't that bad. “is that old?” he asks, taking out a few bills and putting them on the counter when the bartender sets your drinks in front of you both.

“no,” you reply, taking your drink and clinking the glasses against each other. “just older than im used to, i guess.” you say, keeping your eyes on him as you take a drink.

chanyeol lets out a small chuckle. “you got a boyfriend, y/n?” he asks, tilting his head to the side. you shake your head and then avert your eyes to his left hand. no ring.

somewhere between the drinks and the flirting, you and chanyeol ended up stumbling outside and into his car. nobody was driving, no. there was a different agenda happening, which is how you end up on top of him in the front seat of his black corvette. you're thankful for the darkness of the sky and his tinted windows, because what you're doing is practically straight out of a porno.

chanyeols large hands grip your thighs tightly as you bounce up and down on his dick rhythmically, occasionally holding onto the dash or behind you, or the ceiling of the car, for support. "fuck, y/n," he groans, his head thrown back and his neck on display. you lean forward and start kissing on his neck, rolling your hips into his. "shit, you're tight. you're taking me so well." he says, one hand moving to the small of your back. you appreciate the praise, because getting used to him took way longer than it ever has--in fact, this is the only time you've ever really had to adjust to someones size. you're taking his dick like a champ.

"ch-chanyeol, fuck!" you cry out, holding onto his shoulder with one hand and the ceiling with the other. chanyeol opens his eyes and looks up at you, bringing his hand up to your jaw to pull you closer to him. you allow chanyeol to pull you into a sloppy kiss, and whimper in pleasure when he drags his hand from your jaw to your throat, and takes a loose but firm hold on you.

you bounce on him until the coil in your stomach tightens and then snaps, and you’re creaming all over him, head thrown back and moans leaving your mouth. but he hasn’t come yet, so he grabs your head and holds it against his shoulder as he drives his hips upwards and into you, careful not to knock your head against the roof of the car.

“f-fuck!” he groans, panting and gasping as he continues to fuck into you. you kiss at his neck, not leaving any marks like he asked when you first got in the car, but you so badly want to bite and suck on his skin.

chanyeol grips your ass as he pulls you up and down on him, and when his grip tightens enough to leave handprints, you know he’s close. “y/n, shit,” he groans, and you connect your lips to his, tongues clashing as he releases into the condom, his hips stilling. you practically deflate on top of him and he supports you by wrapping a muscular arm around your waist.

you pull away from his mouth and look down at him, a small smile spreading across your lips when you see the look in his face. he wears a lopsided smirk, and his eyes are low.

this certainly won’t be the last time you see him, not with dick like that.

#exo #exo imagines #exo scenarios #exo x reader #exo x you #exo smut #chanyeol x you #chanyeol scenario #chanyeol imagine #chanyeol smut #chanyeol #chanyeol x reader #exo chanyeol #park chanyeol #chanyeol fic

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yurizonofanfics · 1 year

Note

hii can i request jealous!adam warlock x reader? :3 He gets all jealous but doesn’t know how to handle that emotion

I’m so glad you asked, anon. Also not proof read so sorry for any mistakes!

Adam had been attached to you ever since you treated him with kindness and wrapped a blanket around him after defeating the High Evolutionary. After losing his mother, he wasn’t sure of his purpose, and he followed you around like a lost puppy. You didn’t mind, as it was rather helpful to have his muscle while cleaning up Knowhere and making it hospitable for its new residents. You were starting to get attached to him too, although he was new to everything, resulting in him making many mistakes, you could tell that there was a lot of potential for good in him.

He got attached to the other Guardians as he worked with them too, however he soon noticed that his feelings towards you were different from the others in a way he wasn’t sure how to explain. He just knew that he wanted to be with you all the time, wanted to learn about you, wanted to impress you and make you happy. Whenever you smiled or laughed it felt like his heart could jump out of his chest. But whenever you interacted too closely with someone other than him, it made him angry. Really angry.

When Mantis hugged you? Anger. When Nebula was unexpectedly kind or gentle to you? Anger. When you laughed at a joke with Drax? Anger. Adam even felt angry when you helped Rocket take care of the little baby raccoons. Watching you bottle-feed and cradle the little babies in your arms also gave him other weird emotions he couldn’t explain but that’s for another time.

To an extent, he knew the anger was because in a lower, baser part of his brain he selfishly wanted you all to himself. You had taught him a lot, both directly and indirectly, and he knew that this anger was inappropriate based on your responses to his defensiveness of you. If he tried to get in between you and one of your friends, you would get annoyed with him, which he hated almost as much as someone else touching you. He understood that people needed each other rather than two people being isolated together, based on what he’d observed with the Guardians and Knowhere, but he still struggled watching you interact with others.

Because Adam had made his jealousy obvious, you were aware of it and made a plan of action to alleviate it. You needed something special to do with him, something you only did with him so that he didn’t feel left out when you did stuff with the other Guardians. You had noticed that he was particularly fond of gentle touch, and honestly so were you, and it was hard to come by with friends as emotionally stunted as the Guardians. When you first met and you had put the blanket around him and brushed the hair from his face, he leaned into your hand and looked at you with big puppy dog eyes.

So you talked to him about things you could do together that you wouldn’t do with anyone else, like holding hands. You realized when you made the suggestion that it sounded like something a couple would do, but you were certain Adam wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment yet, even if he did have feelings for you. Either way, he was eager to accept your offer if it showed everyone that you were special to him. When you walked around Knowhere with your hand in his, he would be beaming. He was a large man, and your hand was tiny in his. It made him feel like he was protecting you when he held your hand, and made it nearly impossible for him to succumb to that strange anger.

#adam warlock x reader #marvel #bear writings

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astraystayyh · 1 year

Text

A sun and a moon

pairing: minho x reader, pre-established relationship.

genre: hurt/comfort. reader is going through a rough patch.

On days when the mere thought of breathing gets tiring, Minho makes it feel a bit easier.

Please let me know if you enjoyed reading, it means a lot to me <3

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

It was one of those weeks when you woke up every day feeling out of place. In your home, in your mind, in your body.

You never really understood why you'd start feeling this way. It would happen out of the blue, and you'd be forced to carry the heavy weight of your insecurities with you throughout the day.

On days like these, you'd wish you'd be able to crawl out of your skin, float in the air, and not feel anything. You'd give everything to quiet the thoughts in your head that criticize your every move- the way you walk, the way you talk, the way you breathe.

Minho would always notice- how you wither down like a flower that was left to fend for itself, rootless. You'd become quiet, afraid that if you ever spoke, you'd break down and he'd be forced to pick up your shattered pieces. You didn't want to be a burden for him, you wanted to be easy to love.

And when Minho noticed, he didn't comment. Because he knew that part of being human is feeling down, and that it can't always be sunshine and roses. But what he didn't convey in words, he did in actions. He would kiss your forehead randomly, his fingers threading gently through your hair. He'd make you lunch, drawing a smiley face on the rice with sauce. He'd bring you water, making sure you drank it all, patting your head when you are done.

He wouldn't talk, but his gestures spoke for him- they were telling you, 'I know, I know you are not feeling like yourself and I still love you'.

But you couldn't voice your gratitude or your love for him. And it made you resent yourself more. You'd spiral down, and you'd start to think that he deserves someone else, someone better. Someone who doesn't sit on a couch unmoving; selfishly hoping that the universe would pass on their insecurities to somebody else.

"I'm sorry", you mutter on a particularly draining night, and he frowns, placing his chopsticks down.

"I'm sorry you are stuck with me. You deserve better", you slip out, angry tears welling up in your eyes. You don't even know why you spoke. Maybe it was the sight of the dinner he made you left untouched, because you couldn't bring yourself to eat it.

He's quick to your side, kneeling in front of you and holding your hand in his. "There is no one better, sweetheart. There is only you", he reassures, his tone so soft it makes you cry even more.

His warm hand in yours doesn't make the insecurities go away, but for a minute, your mind forgets. It allows you a moment of solace- like a rainbow that comes once in a while to remind you that the sun will shine again.

That night in bed, Minho pulls your body toward his, your back snug against his chest.

"You know, they say that the moon and the sun are lovers", he starts off, tone hushed. "And they say that one day, the sun started to notice how soft the moon's light is, compared to its own warm rays. And how lovers always write poems about the moon, when no one can look at the sun for too long", he pauses, and you nod to show him you are listening.

"And the sun thinks, maybe... maybe the moon deserves a better star to love". He's talking about you, you realize. You are the sun and he is the moon.

"But... what the sun doesn't know is that the moon only shines because it reflects the sun's light. The moon wouldn't be the moon without the sun. Just like I would be nothing without you, my love".

Minho kisses the back of your head, and you shake in his arms, your sobs resounding loudly in the room. "I am who I am because of you", he whispers right in your ear, hugging you even tighter to him.

Right now, you aren't okay, and Minho's words don't fix everything. But they are the light at the end of the tunnel, so you clutch onto them. You store them in a sacred cabinet in your mind, in the wait of the day where you'll wholeheartedly believe them.

It will happen soon, you think to yourself. Soon, you'll be okay again, and Minho will still be by your side.

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azsazz · 8 months

Text

Dead By Dawn (Part 14)

Azriel x Cassian x Reader

Summary: Zombie!AU: It’s been a while since the end of the world.

Warnings: Blood, gore, injury, graphic depictions of violence, poly!relationship, slow burn, undead, death, mentions of cannibalism, SMUTTT

Word Count: 2,686

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13)

_________________________________________

Day 194 Part 3

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The sun is setting and Cassian’s ass is numb.

He hasn’t felt his legs in hours but the way you’re clinging to him so tightly has him going strong. He had found the bunker that caused you to feel this way, so he’s going to suffer the consequences.

Though, with you in his lap, it’s not really suffering.

You’ve fallen asleep against his chest, his fingers tracing the same soothing pattern across your scalp as he had begun doing when he’d led you outside. He’s thankful you’re asleep. He was worried you wouldn’t be able to sleep with the thought of what you’d seen down in that basement running through your mind.

He can’t stop thinking about it; the blood, the bodies, the message. A desperate man seemingly wanting to keep his family safe for as long as possible, only to be their end, selfishly grasping to stay alive until madness drove him to his death.

Cassian doesn’t know if he’ll ever sleep again.

Sure, you’ve all seen things on par and worse—fuck, the dead are walking these days, but still, this particular instance has shaken all of you to the core, and there must be a reason why.

Azriel is leaning against his shoulder, as if needing the support himself. Cassian will gladly take the burden, even though he knows this is Azriel’s way of showing he understands, that he is here for him even if he doesn’t have the words to reassure you nor Cassian.

He rests his head atop Azriels.

“You okay?” Azriel asks softly, nudging his head against Cassians. His voice is scratchy and low, the first time any of the three of you have spoken in hours. He’s eyeing the stray zombie that’s groaning loudly just outside the gate. Its bony arms stick through the iron fence, jaw gaping and snapping loudly. It’s far enough away that neither of the men see it as an immediate threat, but he’ll take care of it before you leave.

Cassian nods, swallowing thick. “Yeah,” he says, but he doesn’t mean it.

“I think we should leave,” Azriel suggests. A part of him really thinks that you shouldn’t—that you need to wait here for Rhys and Feyre. They’re going to reach the van, they’ve found gas and might already be at the car by now. They’re probably just having a quick fuck in the backseat. But he’d written them a letter and left it in plain sight, right on the kitchen counter where they won’t be able to miss it.

He can’t help but run his fingers over your hand, curled tightly in Cassian’s shirt. You’ve whimpered in your sleep once and he thought you might wake, chased by the nightmares he’d seen you have the first night you met, but you didn’t. Cassian’s soothing touch had calmed you right down, signing into his neck.

Cassian hums his agreement. There isn’t much else to say, he doesn’t want to stay in this place. It’s like a bad omen, he thinks, if you all stayed under the same roof as the atrocity.

It’s bad enough you all fucked in their bed.

You rouse, lifting your head from the crook of his throat and squinting against the bright sun to meet their gazes. You stare at them for a moment, drinking them in, how they’re touching you, touching each other, searching for something they’re worried you won’t find.

But you do. You know that there is no staying, and you relax against Cassian’s chest for a moment more, letting him tuck you in tighter for a final hug before helping you to your feet.

You’re a bit unsteady, still shaken, and Azriel helps right you with firm hands on your hips, pressing close into your back so you can lean against him if you need. You take what he’s offering, placing your hands over his.

He goes still under your touch.

You want to flinch, apologize profusely for touching his scars, but you don’t. You soothe your thumb across the textured skin and tip your gaze over your shoulder to meet his, showing him that you are not put off by his scarring.

Azriel’s mouth is set in a firm line, eyes hard and closed-off. You can’t get a read on him and it's like the both of you are locked in battle, but you won’t back down. You refuse to.

Eventually, he relents, slowly melting into you, as if you’ve become a shoulder to lean on instead of something reminding him of his scars. You grin proudly at him.

“We’re leaving,” Cassian says quietly, testing the waters between you and Azriel. He looked uneasy for a moment there, worried about Azriel completely flipping his shit, but he’s smiling softly at the both of you, heart full in his chest.

You nod, agreeing with their decision. Azriel pulls away from you to head back into the house. He’s going to find something to write a note to Rhysand and Feyre, letting them know exactly where you’ve gone.

Unsheathing your knife, you hold it firmly in your grasp, preparing for departure. It feels like it’s been a century since you’ve wielded it, but it’s hardly been a day.

Cassian wants to snatch the knife away from you and replace it with his fingers, twisting them together like they’re meant to be.

“We’ll find them,” you say it more to assure yourself than anything else, but Cassian nods nonetheless.

Azriel returns with your packed bags, sliding it across your shoulders so it sits nice. It’s heavier than it was the other day, and if it's because he’d haphazardly stuffed things into it in a rush to leave, you can’t blame him. His fingers trail down your arms as he retreats, and shivers race down your spine.

Cassian’s blade slides easily into the temple of the moaning zombie on the other side of the gate. The decaying creature goes silent, slumping forward to crash into the fence before sliding into an unmoving pile of rot on the asphalt.

You grimace, watching him wipe the blood on its torn clothes before sheathing it and shoving the gate open. He lets Azriel take the lead.

No one talks as you make your way back towards the van. You’ve agreed to start there and then head north, sticking near the main road in case Rhys and Feyre have managed to make it to the car.

All is quiet as you walk. Only the sounds of your own footsteps skidding across the ground can be heard, and you’re saddened at the thought of how happy you all had been to find a place like that to take shelter in.

It had been a perfect house. There wasn’t much to do on your group's end, tasks that any homeowner would have to make anyways, normal upkeep like fixing the hole in the fence and boarding up broken windows. But that basement…what you found down there will never part from you.

You glance at Cassian from the side of your eyes, admiring his perfect profile, wondering what the normally jovial man is thinking about.

It’s not pretty, what’s going inside of his head. He’s thinking about what that father had done to his children and he’s reminded of Beron—the crazy redheaded man who had set fire to Azriel’s hands and kidnapped you.

He was going to do to you exactly what the man in the house had done to his sons.

Cassian’s fingers curl into fists.

You open your mouth to speak, to reassure him or ask him if he wants to talk about it or something, when Azriel asks, “Do you both see that?”

You whip your head around, looking at where he’s pointing. It’s an old billboard, a panel missing and fallen on its side, but it's shining bright red letters across the green read:

Eryef—15 miles north.

“It could be old,” Azriel comments. You would glare at his pessimistic answer, but you realize that he’s only being realistic. He doesn’t want anyone getting too excited over something that could be months old.

Cassian takes his knife and runs the tip of it through the bright red paint. It curls, lifting with a wretched screech that makes you cringe and look over your shoulder, checking your surroundings. Azriel’s gritting his teeth but Cassian is too invested in examining the paint.

“Can’t be more than a few days old, I’d say,” he says, sheathing his blade. “Where do you think it leads?”

The three of you turn to the message again. Eryef…could be the name of a newly founded town, like the ones you’d heard rumors of: communities filled with survivors, coming together like people should have before the world turned into this festering shithole.

Something is telling you it's not though. The name sounds too familiar for it to be that easy. You wrack your brain for solutions, wondering if Rhysand and Feyre had stumbled upon this very sign while they were out—

“Feyre,” you exclaim, clamping a hand over your mouth. Both men turn to you, looking down at you in confusion.

“We’re going to find her soon, sweetheart,” Cassian says, soothing your hair from your face.

You roll your eyes playfully, batting his hand away. He’s so sweet you feel butterflies running rampant in your stomach. His scowl turns heated at the look you’re giving him, and you know he wouldn’t say no to a quick fuck in the woods. Maybe Azriel could keep watch.

But as your gaze flicks to the other man in your group, you know there will be no keeping watch. The hazel is molten, mouth pulled slightly in a corner to smirk at you like the cock man you know him to be. You want to preen beneath their full attention, and you jump as a branch cracks loudly in the woods.

Azriel shoves you behind him, his reflexes quick. You shove his back in annoyance, swallowing thickly as you feel the corded muscles through his shirt. Now is not the time.

You move your attention to the woods. Cassian’s blade is out again and Azriel’s removed the shotgun from his shoulder, taking in the scene, sunlight streaming through thick branches and lush grasses.

A buck stands not too far away. It’s frozen still just as the three of you are, taking you in like you are it, debating if it should deem you a threat and retreat into the thicket.

You sure hope it doesn’t.

You hardly even breathe as you watch it, and seconds feel like an eternity. Finally, the buck returns to its grazing and you wonder if Azriel will take the shot.

It will be loud and zombies for miles will filter your way. There is no turning around for you, you won’t dare to seek cover at the house of horrors you’d left. You need to find Feyre and Rhys, and you need to start moving north.

If only you knew where to find them.

It’s Cassian who kills the buck. Surprisingly skilled with the blade in his hand, he tosses it with a strong arm, and you watch it soar through the trees like a spear. Bright sunlight reflects off of the shiny blade—you’ve caught Cassian sharpening and cleaning it more than once, with all of their stockade from the van—and it lights up the forest, spooking the animal, but too late.

“We’re going to be eating good tonight, my sweets,” Cassian grins, chest puffed with pride at the sight of his kill. He takes off into the forest, not a worry in the world about anything else lurking around, ready to pounce, and Azriel grumbles, hooking the gun back over his shoulder in favor of pulling out his own blade, taking your hand with his free one, and following Cassian into the woods.

“If we can afford to start a fire,” Azriel grunts, and your stomach gurgles in response. He glances down at you, a slight frown on his face in worry. You blush, squeezing his hand in reassurance. You never quite thought you’d have someone like this, let alone two, one hunting to feed you and the other worried about your well-being. You can admit, it’s mighty nice.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

“Earlier,” Azriel starts, making sure you’ve had your fill of cooked deer meat before taking some of his own. He offers a thick slice to Cassian, who’s still hanging meat over the makeshift spit he’d created, hands bloodied up to the elbow. He wouldn’t let Azriel anywhere near it, even though the other man had protested that he was fine around fire. Cassian wasn’t having it. He takes the food with a playful nip at Azriel’s fingers, winking at him before continuing his work. “You said Feyre. You didn’t just mean that we had to find them.”

You nod, chewing the meat in your mouth. It’s delicious, and Cassian complained the whole time he was gutting the animal that if he’d had his garden, dinner would be accompanied by a fresh salad with all of the pickings.

It had only made you hungrier and pray for a solace where he’d be able to do just that.

You swallow, the food filling a part of you you hadn’t known was so neglected. You need to pace yourself. You don’t want to get sick off of the meat before your body can soak up the nutrients. You’ll be damned if you let Cassian’s hard work go to waste.

“Eryef, it's Feyre spelled backwards,” you explain, watching the way their eyes light up. “I think it's them—her sisters, I mean.”

Azriel looks thoughtful, considering your words as he takes a large bite of food. It makes sense, but what’s the possibility that they’re in the same area? That they’re searching for her as well?

“My smart little bird,” Cassian compliments, crouching before you to place a smacking kiss on your forehead. It makes you blush and offer him a bite of your food, but he seems more interested in your lips, though he is mindful enough to keep his bloody hands off of your clothes.

You give in, rewarding him with a kiss and a bite of deer meat. He thanks you with a grin, then slides over a foot to where Azriel is settled beside you, pouting for a kiss from the man as well. Azriel rolls his eyes but obeys, leaning forward to meet Cassian’s tongue with his own.

It makes your body stir with need, watching the two of them like this. Cassian’s fingers curl against the log as he tries his best not to get the gore of the animal on his beloved, but Azriel looks like he could care less, biting at Cassian’s lips in a feral sort of way that has you pressing your thighs together tightly. You watch their tongues clash, fighting in the loving way that they have, chests heaving together and apart, together where they’re supposed to be.

You see the moment Azriel snaps back into reality. His spine goes still and his fingers are still in Cassian’s hair. He’s probably got a load of buck fat in his thick locks but Cassian couldn’t give a shit less when you’re both looking at him like that, all bedroom eyes and squirming bodies. He leaves the both of you to tend to the small fire, needing it but not wanting to draw any attention. Cassian will be up all night smoking the meat at this rate, and you intend on staying up with him.

There had been debate about returning to the house, building the fire within the fence, but you had vetoed it, not only because of the harrowing scene in the basement, but also because of the note you’d left Rhysand and Feyre should they come back. A 911 message that you were heading in this direction, sticking close to the main road and keeping an eye out for a beat-up pink Volkswagen.

“You truly think it’s them?” Azriel asks, tone taking on a softer note.

You meet his gaze, nodding firmly. “I do. And I think Rhysand and her went that way.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

DBD Taglist: @writingsbychlo @kemillyfreitas @5moremin @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @waggel36 @bionic-donut @que-serasera @applepie02 @azrielsbabyg @arcadianmoonlight @pradaxstyles @illyrian-dreamer @secret-ly-here @reiincarnatiion @fuckthatfeeling @shadowsingersmate24 @harrystylesfan2686 @poppyalice2001 @fall-myriad @sstrohma @i-am-infinite @tcris2020 @jeannineee @21stcenturytaegi @ochiolism

#azriel x cassian x reader #dead by dawn #azriel x reader #cassian x reader #acotar zombie au #acotar #azsazz #acowar #acomaf #acotar au #dbd

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tsunami-of-tears · 2 months

Text

Peace

Cassian x Reader

Summary: Your cousin passes away abruptly and Cassian is there to help pick up the pieces.

A/N: Another self-insert fic because writing is so ✨healing✨ ~ apologies, this one is super sad

Wordcount: 1K

Warnings: hurt/comfort, death of a relative, chronic illness, dealing with grief/loss

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ

Time stands still as your father’s words echo in your mind.

“She didn’t make it.”

Your cousin and the Princess of Adriata, Cresseida, had at last succumbed to her devastating illness. She’d suffered a lot, but you selfishly thought you’d have more time. There was still so much you wanted to ask her. She had so much wisdom that you’d never get to hear. You didn’t even have the chance to tell her about your mate, Cassian.

Your mate. Your rock.

Though your heart aches at the loss, you are grateful to have Cassian to help you through it. Together you were an unbreakable force.

However, not unbreakable enough to grant him entrance to the Summer Court for Cresseida’s funeral.

That ban was still firmly in place as the bond was new. With all that had happened, you hadn’t had the chance to mention it. Your father, Tarquin, was grieving profusely - so you didn’t think it was appropriate.

I’ll tell him after the funeral, we can wait a little bit longer.

Though Cassian wanted to be there for you in person, he supported your decision to keep things quiet.

Cresseida was like an auntie to you. As the eldest of Tarquin’s six children, you had the honour of saying a few words at the funeral ceremony.

The weeks leading up to the funeral went by in a blur. You went about your days feeling numb to the world. You hadn’t shared a single tear over your cousin. It didn’t feel real.

You’d put off writing your eulogy until the last minute for that very reason. You still struggled to wrap your head around the fact that she was gone. Just. Like. That.

Never again would you hear her laugh or see her smile. You’d never again get to hear the stories about her childhood with your father, not in the way she could tell them.

“It’s all wrong,” you sigh, exasperated over your eulogy. Your desk was littered with scrunched-up papers, your hands were covered in smears of ink.

A warm hand gently strokes your back, attempting to soothe you.

“Sweetheart, you’re overthinking it,” Cassian says.

You slump forward, head in your hands. “I don’t know why I agreed to this. I’m not good at this sort of thing,” you groan.

“We both know you’re the best person for the job. She loved you, I know she’d be proud of you, just like I am.” Cassian moves his hand to hold your face, tilting your face to look up at him.

You nod and press your cheek into his palm. Cassian leans down and plants his lips on yours. His love and encouragement flood down the bond. “You can do it, you’ve got this,” he says against your mouth.

You lean into him again, kissing with more heat and raw need. Your arms wrap around his neck, fingers tangle in his hair as he grabs your hips and effortlessly lifts you onto the desk.

For a moment, you get lost in passion with your mate. Until the loud crash of books falling from the desk gets your attention.

Cassian pants heavily as he pulls away, you groan as you rest your forehead against his broad chest. “I really need to finish this and head to Summer. I can’t right now.”

Cassian kisses you, softly and sweetly. “Of course, sweetheart,” he says.

————

The following morning, you stand outside the temple with one of your sisters, watching everyone file in. There are so many people you don’t recognise.

Your eyes brim with tears.

This is it. She’s really gone.

You look at your sister and the floodgates burst open.

Tears pour and pour and pour. You feel like you’re drowning in devastation. You can barely take in enough air to breathe.

Your sister pulls you into a tight hug as you let out choked sobs. She rubs your back and you manage to calm your breaths. In, and out.

You sigh into the embrace and wish you hadn’t opted to wear makeup. You attempt to wipe the smears from under your eyes to no avail - the tears just keep falling.

It’s time to go inside and begin, so you walk down the middle aisle to your seats in the front row, avoiding making eye contact with everyone.

As you settle into the chair, the organ starts to play a soft song. The High Priestess steps to the front of the dais and begins the ceremony.

You continue to cry through most of it, as your father and other relatives speak.

You somehow manage to compose yourself to deliver your own eulogy. You only choke on the final line.

“I love you. I hope that wherever you are, you’re at peace now.”

————

You have a dark cloud over your head for the rest of the day.

So many strangers come up to compliment you on your beautiful words. You thank them all for their kindness, offering handshakes and hugs, but it feels shallow.

A trace of bitterness sets in, they don't understand. They didn’t know her like you did.

You endure the wake for your father’s sake. He’s really hurting, and he needs you here. It’s the time to be with family, you just feel at a loss without all of yours.

————

After the longest day of your life, you finally get to return home.

You open your front door to Cassian plating up dinner. Nothing too crazy, just your favourite comfort meal - mac and cheese. It’s then that your stomach rumbles and you remember that you’ve barely eaten all day.

Cassian looks up as you enter, putting down the saucepan and opening his arms to embrace you. “Come here my love, I’m so proud of you. Cres would be too. I wish I could have got to know her better.”

You nod in response. Words are too hard right now.

“I made your favourite, come and eat. You’ll feel better.” You give Cassian a small smile as you sit and tuck into the cheesy pasta. He knows you need some extra help today.

After dinner, Cassian carries you to the bathroom, runs your bath and helps you wash.

Wrapped in a towel, you sit at the vanity as he brushes your hair, all while whispering sweet nothings.

Once you’re dressed, Cassian carries you to bed where you snuggle up on his chest as he reads your favourite book to you. You fall asleep wrapped in his arms, you’re at peace too.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfiction #acomaf #acosf #acotar fic #cassian #cassian x reader #cassian x you #cassian x y/n #cassian acotar #cassian angst #cassian oneshot

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thegreenthepeacetheorange · 5 months

Text

Everlark (Catching Fire, Ch. 17)

katniss looking at peeta to help save her like he did last year when they're being questioned by haymitch and effie after the individual assessments is so cute (and this time he can't because he did something equally rebellious!)

peeta painting that picture of rue is so him. soft but glaringly rebellous. revolution through kindness. and katniss loves him for it

the fact that they both did something similar and scandalous, without meaning too. again being so in tune. and the fact that it makes katniss appreciate peeta in a new way. catching fire is really her falling for him so completely, after really uncovering every part of him. she's so fascinated by him

they have haymitch so stressed though. a single mom who works two jobs!

katniss initiates the hug with peeta, after a few days of frostiness

her finally understanding what peeta said about not being a piece in the capitol's games, after learning just exactly how he avoids being that through his personality and choices

i made this post a while ago and here katniss kinda confirms how loving peeta/her relationship itself is an act of rebellion and defiance in the face of the capitol: "the beauty of this idea is that my decision to keep peeta alive at the expense of my own life is itself an act of defiance... my private agenda dovetails completely with my public one."

she's saving him selfishly for herself and her own peace of mind but she knows that her doing this is revolutionary

"i just want to spend every possible minute of the rest of my life with you" peeta pls

them sleeping together again making katniss realise how much she's craved him and his warmth. they chase away each other's nightmares wrapped in each other's arms ugh

them just lazing together in bed speaks so much to the relationship they've developed since the victory tour. they're so content and at peace just being together.

the rooftop scene!!!

another instance of them having normalcy in their lives and how they relish being together in it. it's nothing extraordinary but they're so happy just being together.

peeta sketching katniss, katniss lying with her head on his lap while he plays with her hair

her allowing him to live in that moment forever. her joining him in that moment forever. ugh.

the toasting ceremony that suzanne made up. like if it wasn't clear that everlark were the intended endgame from this then idk for you! district 12 couples marry by toasting a piece of bread (ahem) over a fire (ahem). the toasting ceremony symbolises union. one of the things that went over my head reading this as a 14 year old

#everlark #peeta x katniss #katniss x peeta #katniss and peeta #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #the hunger games #catching fire #tgtpto everlark read

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