#this is the first job ive ever had where i feel like i have no friends

[nixonsshades]

….

#i miss my old job #i was making half the money i am now #this is the first job ive ever had where i feel like i have no friends #my self confidence in my work has taken a nose dive #i have no time for myself anymore #n the time i do have i spend exhausted #i cry when i think about going into work #but i dont want to go back to being broke all the time #i feel so conflicted right now #i havent made any personal art since getting this job #my anxieties been through the roof

[zyafics]

omg hi!! hope ur doing well i love ur writing btw, (play fake is one of my fav fics ive EVER read!!)

could u do a fic where rafe and reader are like best friends, and they’ve always both kinda liked each other but they dont really act upon it, until rafe gets a buzzcut and reader starts acting like real shy and clumsy around him bcs she’s shocked abt how he could get even MORE attractive, and then he gets linda confused so he asks her why she’s acting so different and then she tells him? make it as smutty and fluffy as u want! 🫶🫶

first off, ily 🥹 and omg, YES!! i've been thinking about this ever since i got your req in my inbox, so here's my very earnest attempt at doing it justice 🩷

masterlist

pairing rafe cameron x bsf!female reader

content (5.3k words) 18+, fluff, smut, soft!rafe to reader only, protected p in v, f receiving oral, lots of banter!, nicknames used: baby and wildflower. — reader type kook, spontaneous, loves adventure, hates silence, loves noises, doesn't exactly like her reality, and friends with topper and kelce, but is only close to rafe!

dedication to @mintforadollar for helping me with the nickname and for @erwinsvow for her lovely fic, which i drew inspiration from and i've been obsessing over for the past two weeks <3

lıllılı Wildflower by 5 Seconds of Summer

"I want to run away."

It takes a moment for Rafe to register your confession and his response is a drowsy laugh. "Buy a guy dinner first."

You let out a groan, slumping against your wrinkled sheets and abundant pillows spread across your bed. "I'm being serious, Rafe. I'm tired of this house. It's too empty and quiet. I can't stand it. At night, I think I can hear my skin buzzing."

Rafe is accustomed to your sporadic calls regarding whatever issues you had with the world. Last week, it was about the insufficient amount of family portraits that frame the halls of your mansion.

"Maybe you just need to change your sheets."

"Stop!" You chastise. Rafe chokes up with another beat of laughter, low and rich with the deep timbre of his voice. The sound temporarily draws you away from your rant, igniting a small ember in your stomach. You brush away those tingly thoughts. "You're not listening to me."

"I think I'm listening to you perfectly fine, wildflower." He reassures, the solemnity of his tone takes you off the edge. Rafe shuffles on the other line, moving to a sitting position against his headboard. "What do you want? Do you want me to come pick you up?"

You cower from his offer, tucking one of your pillows under your chin. "You don't have to..."

"Don't get all shy with me now. You can't act this way when you're waking me up in the dead of night to report about your getaway plans."

"I feel bad."

Rafe sighs, getting off his bed. He knows the outcome of this conversation and rather prepares himself for the short drive. "I'm heading over."

"I could walk."

"It's freezing outside."

"Your house is down the block. I can survive."

"I'm already out the door. Just stay put." Rafe announces and before he's about to disconnect the call, he adds. "I'm serious."

He arrives in record time. Honking his truck with no regards for the nearby neighbors and you pad downstairs with a bag, descending down the driveway to the passenger side of his truck. A little shiver travels down your spine at the cool North Carolina weather.

"God, what did I tell you?" He scolds, noticing your lack of outwear, and reaches for the blanket in the backseats he keeps just for you. He throws it at your face, suffocating your air with a fluffy white fleece. You roll your eyes, covering your shoulders with it as Rafe reverses. "Where do you want to go?"

"Thought I'm supposed to buy you a meal first."

He doesn't bother entertaining your retort with a glance and flicks the side of your head with his fingers. You giggle. "We're not running away."

"Who said you're included in this adventure? I remember it being a one-person job."

Rafe scoffs. "You can't run away. You'd miss me too much."

"No, you'd miss me too much." You tease back, watching his lips pull to an upward curve at your words. It makes your heart flutters, knowing you always manage to get this side of Rafe. To the rest of Outer Banks, Rafe is seen as a precarious, self-absorbed playboy, but to you, he's your best friend.

And a little more.

The truck parks on the roadside of Tannyhill, the silhouettes of the estate surrounded by shadowy oak trees and a deep reflection of the moon on their waterfront view. Rafe doesn't make a move to leave, nor turn off the engine, before he turns to you.

"You okay?" He asks gravely, all humor stripped off his handsome features. You feel the air of your lungs stolen, at the amount of attention he's paying you, and the atmospheric change turns you to a bashful version of yourself.

"Fine." You answer, looking to your lap. "You know..."

Despite your house being a near-identical model to Rafe's, you hate yours. It's nothing about the architecture but rather the emptiness of the hallways. The cold floors sweep with minimalist decors. The echoes in the chambers where you can hear every little whirl in the air conditioner and creaks in the pipes. You'd rather be at Tannyhill.

Rafe doesn't say anything for the next few moments, observing you, before conceding a sigh. "Tell you what. I'll take you out on the Druthers tomorrow. We'll go bright and early, sail out for a couple of hours, watch the sunrise and it'll be something."

You lift your head, eyes lit up. "Is this our escape?"

"We gotta come back, though."

You frown but the offer remains enticing. It's better than nothing.

"Okay, deal." You nod, holding out your pinkie finger. Rafe scoffs at your gesture, but nonetheless, returns it. "Don't look so glum. You get to hang out with me."

"You do realize we have about three hours of sleep?"

You glance at the clock on his dashboard. He's right. But, you don't want to hold it off till another day. "I can go by myself. Just give me the keys for tomorrow."

He rolls his eyes, as if he would even consider that suggestion, and shakes his head. "I'm coming with you."

"Aren't you afraid you won't get your beauty sleep?"

"Shut up and get in the house."

You laugh and hop out of his truck. When you enter through his bedroom, you throw your bag to a random corner and stroll over to his closet in search for one of Rafe's tees to sleep in.

When you settle on something, you strip out of your clothes—in the middle of his bedroom, just as Rafe enters—and exchange it for his shirt. He had little regard for your act, having grown accustomed to you changing in front of him and vice versa. 

All Rafe does is pull off his own shirt, because he likes to sleep naked, and turns back to you. Unlike him, you're never going to get used to seeing him naked—the defined muscles of his chest, the toned planes of his abs, all those hours spent at the gym are clearly not wasted.

You flush, realizing you're ogling him longer than appropriate, and lift your gaze to find a smirk curving his lips. "Oh, shut it," you push his shoulders, causing him to laugh. He takes the opportunity to capture your hand, pulling the both of you onto his mattress, and you yelp.

Rafe changes your position so you're facing him, an arm sprawls over your waist, and there's about a couple of inches of space between the two of you. Here, in the low streams of the moonlight glistening through the veiled curtains and the faint aroma of his cologne on his pillows, you can hear your own heartbeat in your ears.

You say nothing. He says nothing, You stare into his cerulean eyes, knowing all this little emotions you're feeling all over—the light pricks on your skin where he touches you, the lapse in your breathing from how attentive he is, and the sharp incline of your heart rate pulsing through your veins—is because of him.

His voice is low when he says, "you know you're my best friend, right?"

You couldn't find it in you to answer. You just nod.

Rafe swallows hard, not having the ability to string together the next sentence. Instead, all he does is nod along, leaning forward to place a light kiss on your forehead, before falling asleep.

The next morning, just an hour before the sunrise, Rafe and you head to the ports to board the Druthers. Despite the lack of adequate sleep, you were giddily and strumming with high energy. He holds out his hand to guide you up the stairs, afraid your enthusiasm would cause you to miss a step. 

When the Druthers is far enough from shore, it pulls to a halt, gently bobbing on the ocean waves of the tame morning. You settle on the deck and Rafe slides into the spot next to you. Here, you have the perfect view of the sun slowly rising from the horizon, painting the sky in a palette of red, orange and yellow.

You're grinning. You're feeling much better, especially after your melodramatic episode. Your head rests on Rafe's chest, observing the skyline until the sun reaches its acme, while he watches you. Something about you, happy, content, and with him brings a warmth no one can replicate.

"We have to go swimming." You announce suddenly, twisting your head to look at him with excitement bubbling on your features, doe eyes pleading with a want.

His expression is flat, trying to contain his emotions. "It's seven in the morning."

"So? When has that stopped me before?"

"It's freezing cold."

"That's your excuse for everything." You scoff, before tilting your head in a challenge. "Are you scared of a little water, Rafe Cameron?"

There's a twinkle in your eyes, something about the way you talk to him, he would never allow from anyone else. It's just you. He had to look away, pretending to shake his head from the idea but knowing, at the end, he lost.

With a long dip into the ocean, you swim around the Druthers with light splashes thrown in his face, causing Rafe to chase after you for your little stunt. When the pair of you returned to the boat, dripping wet on the floor deck, laughter exchanging at the break of dawn.

"You cheated!" You accuse, grinning.

"I did not. You're just slow."

When you change out of your bikini and Rafe changes out of his swim trunks, you return to the cockpit where Rafe dons a new attire: khaki pants, a polo shirt, and his backward baseball cap. The air shifts, a more solemn expression on his face.

"You had enough now, wildflower?" He tips his head to your direction, as you approach him. "Ready to return back to the real world?"

You groan. "What's so special about that place?"

"Nothing that matters to you," he declares, "but I have a couple of errands I have to run today. I have to get back, but I won't leave until you're feeling better."

"Hm." You consider your satisfaction. Standing before Rafe, you watch as his lips curl in amusement at the way you're mauling through the finer details. The itinerary of your day and whether it was enough. When your eyes lock with his, you offer him a sweet smile, albeit a little reluctant.

"What?"

You don't answer him, reaching for his hat and taking it off his head, before plopping it over your own as a keepsake souvenir. "Now, I am."

—

After spending your afternoon with Topper and Kelce at the Country Club, distracting them from their tee time with your commentary about their swings, Rafe finally arrives to join you.

But it's different.

When Rafe said he had a couple of errands to run, you didn't ask for their specifics. He just said he'll join you later and you were content with that assumption.

You should've prepared yourself.

Rafe got a new haircut; a buzz that took away his dirty blond locks and a clean fade on the sides. For some reason, it makes your heart accelerate. Your breath shortens. Rafe has always been attractive before but now, you couldn't even look at him.

When he tries to approach you in greeting, you dip out of the way and return to Topper and Kelce. However, in the middle of your path, you nearly tripped over some hazardously-abandoned golf club one of the boys threw out, but Rafe caught you. A hand on your elbow, his brows drawn together in concern.

"You good?" He asks. You can't help but let your eyes stray up to his hairline, finding it voided of the curtain bangs it previously occupies and the strands you like to mess with. Your gaze instantly drops to the ground.

"I'm–I'm fine." You stutter, heat rising to your cheeks from the embarrassing fact that you couldn't even make a clean getaway. Rafe helps you find your balance and you slip out of his grasp as you excuse yourself back to the other Kooks.

That's how the rest of the evening went. Through another round of golf and a dinner at the restaurant inside the Country Club, you try to ignore Rafe to the best of your abilities. It was a difficult task but a necessary one. Your emotions were fuzzy and harder to control. You couldn't even look at your best friend without flushing or revealing everything on your face.

You thought you could wait it out till you get home.

"Come on, wildflower." Rafe grabs your wrist, just as you're about to join Topper in his car, and you turn to face his contempt expression. Annoyance written over his features. "I'm driving you home."

"No, it's fine. Top said he can give me a ride—"

"We live nearby each other. There's no point for Top to do all that. Right?" Rafe cuts a hard look to the blond in the driver seat, to whom easily backs off with two hands raised in surrender. Coward. Rafe turns back to you. "Let's go."

You end up in the passenger seat of his truck. On the long drive back to Figure Eight, you were uncharacteristically quiet. Often, you would fidget with the stereo, messing with Rafe's presets on country and rap stations, to which he always has to swat your hands away. Today, you sat obediently in your seat, hands tucked between your thighs, looking anywhere but Rafe.

"You're not going to listen to music?" He asks, trying to cut the silence. You shake your head.

"I'm not feeling it."

You try to count the seconds. You try to distract yourself by looking out the window and listening to the chirps of crickets coming out, but all you can focus on is the sound of yours and Rafe's breathing. The acute awareness of something in the air. The amount of space between the two of you. The way something deep in you changed about him.

It isn't his fault. Whatsoever. It's all yours. All those times spent at Tannyhill, stealing his shirts to wear to sleep, cuddling up in his bed after sneaking out of your estate, running around with Rafe doing god-knows-what. You developed something for him. A crush. An inkling.

You always told yourself you could control it. It's natural for best friends to like each other at one point. It'll fade away eventually.

But, unfortunately for you, that isn't the case. it got worse. It grew more desperate. With each inching territory into something else means a larger consequence it can have on your friendship.

You can't lose him.

"Hey." Rafe calls out, his voice softens considerably from the aggression he used with Topper a while back. You don't turn to face him, despite that being his sole objective, and you respond back with a light hum. "Am I driving you home or Tannyhill?"

To you, those are the same things. Home is where Tannyhill is, where Rafe is. But, you knew what he was referring to.

"Tannyhill." You answer in a chipped tone. "I forgot my bag."

"Of course, you did." He teases, trying to break the tension with some lightheartedness. It doesn't work. You don't answer, too lost in resisting the urge to look at him.

Rafe sighs when you refuse to acknowledge him and turns back to the road. That's when you spare a glance from the corner of your peripheral; just a small peek.

And there he is: Rafe with the fresh shave that is such a strange yet welcomed sight. It brings out a clearer definition of his handsome features, the planes of his sharp profile, the cut of his jawline and the wrinkles around his eyes you always adore. It's too much for you.

You can't let him know that.

He's your best friend.

When he reaches Tannyhill, you leap out of the moving vehicle and race up the porch. You take the hidden key from under the mat and turn the lock, slipping into the familiar foyer and up the large stairwell.

Racing against an internal clock, once you enter the bedroom, you search for your bag, but you can't seem to pinpoint its location. When you manage to miraculously find it underneath the covers, you throw it over your shoulders and sprint to the exit.

Only for Rafe to block it.

"Why are you in such a rush?" He asks, his brows furrowed together as he examines you. You quickly drop your gaze to the ground, pretending to be interested in the patterns on the marble.

"I just..." You stammer for an excuse. "I just got to get home."

"Why? You hate your house."

"I don't hate it." You lie. The conversation tips into an awkward tension—the exact thing you were trying to avoid. You think you need to spend a day, or two, or a whole week, to collect yourself and force yourself back to normal. Back to when you can look at him without revealing everything on your face.

"God, what is it? You don't like it?" Rafe laughs with an ounce of nervousness and the sound takes you back. You look up, finding him running a hand over his buzzcut. "It's my hair, isn't it?"

He didn't know why he decided to buzz it off. He just did. He didn't care if his father didn't approve or if Wheezie would make fun of him for the sudden change in appearance. That didn't matter to him.

But your opinions did.

"What?" Your lips part. Were you that obvious? "I never said that."

"You didn't need to. This entire evening, you've barely looked at me."

He's right.

"I was busy."

"Playing golf with Top? You hate that shit." He retorts, dropping his hand to his side, clenching them into whiten knuckles. "And when we were at the restaurant. You were sitting with Kelce. Why the fuck were you sitting with him instead of me?"

You swallow hard. Your throat is tightening with all the words you can't reveal.

"Maybe I just want to change it up. I am friends with them too—"

"But you're my friend first."

You scoff. "Possessive much?"

"Very." He answers nonchalantly. Your heart skips a beat. He can't say that; it's not fair. "And knowing you for so long, I know what you're telling me is complete and total bullshit."

His hand slides under your jaw, lifting your gaze to meet his, and you can't help but feel your walls crumbling. You're afraid. You're so afraid.

"Come on, wildflower." He murmurs softly, swiping his thumb across your cheek. "Tell me the truth."

You have always been able to do that. In ways. When Rafe asks something of you, you're always able to tell him straight. It's one of the qualities he likes about you. Now is the first time you're going against your nature. Because it's too close, too real, that it can change everything.

Your throat grows dry and you lick your bottom lip, causing Rafe to glance down.

"I..." You begin, trying to string together a coherent sentence that won't damage everything. He raises a brow, waiting. "Sometimes it's hard for me to look at you."

You close your eyes after the confession. Your heart is in his hands.

All the air in the room stills, as if the air conditioner turns off and you're all left with a tense, palpable silence. You can't bear it. At least, at your house, you can blast your speakers on full-volume to create some level of noise and block it out. Here, all you can hear is the thumping of your heart in your ears.

"Say something." You urge.

"Sometimes it's hard for me to look at you too."

Your heart drops. You think he doesn't understand. He thinks you can't stand him physically, especially after his haircut, and this is a similar sentiment shared by him about you.

He doesn't feel the same way.

"Oh."

You open your eyes, trying hard not to cry. You can feel them swelling with hot tears but you blink fast, trying to not let Rafe see.

He immediately recognizes the look, drawing back his hand. That’s not what he meant. "Don't cry."

You're not doing a good job at hiding anything today. "No, it's okay," you say with a crack voice, "you don't have to—"

"No, fuck," he swears, "what I mean is that, sometimes, when you look at me, I just—" He couldn't explain himself, not in time, not in the way he wants, that he covers your eyes, flooding your vision with darkness and heightening every other sense.

Rafe releases a deep exhale, collecting himself. "Those eyes..." He mumbles, the resonance of his voice so close, it's as if he's right beside you. You feel his breathing fanning against the curve of your neck, raising goosebumps. "They drive me fucking insane."

Then, he kisses your neck.

The act jolts you by surprise.

"Everything about you drives me insane." He confesses against your heated skin, the vibration of his words sending straight tingles through your body. "I can't go a day without thinking about you. About wanting you."

Not just as a best friend, but as a whole. Everything about you he needs. In his life; forever. Sometimes, he can't believe you exist.

You're overwhelmed with all these new emotions. Your heart is swelling. "Rafe..."

"You're my best friend, right?" He muses, delivering kisses up the column of your throat to the underside of your jaw, and making his way closer to your lips. "But you're also the only one for me."

Before he gets to your mouth, you grab his wrist, the one holding you blindfolded. He stops in place—afraid this is your time to reject him.

"Rafe." You breathe out. "Can I see you?"

He slowly removes his hand, allowing your vision to flood back with his presence. This time, the sight of Rafe doesn't push you into overdrive. There's a new sense of clarity and calm, an elated comfort you don't share with anyone else.

You take your time drinking him in. From his face, to his lips, to the fresh haircut you're feeling entirely too grateful for. You do it all without fear.

"What?" He demands, his insecurities skyrocketing through the roof. "Don't like it?"

"I love you."

His heart lunges in his chest. He couldn't believe the words coming from your lips. When it completely registers that this is not some sweet, wet dream he's going to wake up from, his hands reach forward to cup either side of your face and he finally kisses you.

His force pushes you back against his bed and you land on the mattress with a soft thump. You laugh into his mouth and Rafe grins against your lips.

"Eager, much?"

"I wanted to hear you say that for so long." He admits, his hand travels down your waist to grab your hips and pull you closer. Rafe deepens the kiss, swallowing the little sounds you're making, until you have to pull away to catch your breath.

You can't believe this is happening.

"I didn't know you were such a good kisser."

"Yeah? You wanna know what else I'm good at?"

Your eyes drop to his pants, seeing the subtle outline of his erection straining against his zipper, and he chuckles lowly. "You want it tonight?"

You nod timidly. Your eyes dropping to your lap again, but this time, Rafe doesn't allow you to do such things.

He grabs your chin, forcing your gaze to his. "Don't do that, baby. You know how I feel about you getting shy from asking what you want. Use your words."

The new nickname is making you lightheaded. You can't believe this is real. "I want you, Rafe."

Sweetest goddamn words he ever heard.

He tips his head to your clothes. "Take it off."

"You first."

He laughs at your competitiveness, always trying to challenge him, but he doesn't resist. He pushes himself off the mattress, pulling off his shirt and removing his pants. All that is left is his boxer-briefs, which reveals the outline of his bulge. "Your turn."

You take off your shirt and your shorts and decide, last minute, to go the extra mile and unclasp your bra too. It falls over your shoulders and you throw it out onto the floor.

Rafe takes his time, staring at your tits. He has seen you naked before, the consequence of your intimate relationship that pushes the boundaries into blurred lines and the inevitable collision of morning showers in his ensuite and drunken exchanges after parties.

But this time, it's different. This time, it's a sight that's intentional—just for him.

"Do you know how long I've waited for this?"

You gawk at him, the words send a thrill down your spine. "Do you know how long I waited for this?" You gesture back to him, at his naked frame, and he smirks.

"You got an eyeful last night."

"Oh, shut up," you use your leg to kick him, but Rafe catches your ankle in the process. Your eyes widen as he uses the opportunity to spread your legs apart, sinking between your thighs. His gaze finds your soaked panties.

His thumb traces across your panties, drawing out your wetness against the fabric and collecting your arousal. You whimper, aching into his touch.

"Rafe, please." You beg. His eyes lifts to find yours in a self-satisfied grin. He loves knowing you're this desperate for him, only him, that his fingers hook under the band of your panties.

"Lift your hips for me." He commands and you obey. He pulls off your panties and hauls you to the ledge of his bed. With that, his fingers caress your wet slit, drawing out a low moan from you. "Fuck."

He has imagined that sound a thousand times over, but it's incomparable to the real thing. To know you're feeling this way because of him. He feels himself growing harder, straining against the thin fabric and begging to be inside of you.

But he wants to pleasure you first.

Rafe lowers himself and covers your clit with his mouth. He proceeds to suck, his fingers grazing your entrance before plunging a thick digit inside.

You tip your head against the mattress, reveling in the feel of his tongue against your swollen nub, the way he thrusts into you with a steady pace and the additive finger. Your legs drape over his shoulders, closing him in.

"Fuck, baby, you taste so sweet," Rafe mumbles against you, the vibration of his words stirring something inside of you. "I can't believe I haven't been tasting you every single fucking night."

You draw out with a breathy moan, feeling yourself clench at his words. "We have all the time now."

"I bet I can make you come on my face fast, though."

You don't get a chance to entertain the response before Rafe sucks harder, pumping inside of you with a determined speed that causes you to arch off the mattress and claw at his sheets.

"Shit," you whimper, squeezing your thighs together at the intense pleasure, forcing Rafe to use his free hand to push your legs apart. You feel your climax rapidly approaching. "Oh, god, oh, god."

You come on his face, as promised, and you slump back against the bed, catching your breath. Rafe removes his hand from your cunt, the emptiness causes a little whine.

"What?" He looks at you.

"Nothing," you mumble, "I just want you inside me."

He laughs. "God, you're needy," he teases, causing heat to rise to your cheeks. "Don't worry, baby, you'll get it soon."

He goes to his nightstand and pulls out a condom. Just as he's about to tear it open, he glances down at you, extending the small square. "Want to do it?"

You nod, pushing yourself upright and taking it from his hands. You rip it open, as Rafe removes his boxers, and his cock springs free, red and swollen with a bit of precum. You smile, glancing up at him with your doe eyes. "Is that because of me?"

"Shut up."

You giggle, rolling the latex over his length, taking your time to admire his size. He's big and perfect, the tip of his cock dripping with his precum that you almost wish you could take him inside your mouth instead. However, despite the recent orgasm, your body wants him inside.

"Lay back." He commands thickly. "Spread your legs."

You do as he says, throbbing from the control he has in the room. Rafe sinks his knees into his mattress, approaching you as he pushes your thighs apart and lines his tip against your entrance, causing your breath to shorten.

"Come on, wildflower, breathe with me."

You nod shakily, closing your eyes for a moment to inhale a calming breath before he plunges deep inside you, filling you to the hilt. A gasp escapes you, his girth stretching you out, but it soon fades into a pleasure unlike any others.

"God, you feel good," he mumbles, lowering himself to your mouth and capturing your lips into a hot kiss. Your hand drapes over his shoulders as he begins to thrust inside of you. "Too fucking good."

You feel perfect. All of this is too perfect. The way you press against him, your fingernails scraping his back, the way your pussy grips him with the ideal amount of pressure, and the way your lips sync with his as if you were made for him.

The air fills with your whimpers and mewls, increasing in volume with each thrusts that enters and leaves you, while Rafe is heaving in breathy grunts and moans. He pushes your legs back, forcing the new position to grant him deeper access into your sweet cunt.

He's hitting new spots you didn't know were possible. It's making your eyes roll to the back of your head, your cries coming out with desperate pleas, that he had to cover your mouth with his to swallow all the noises.

When you feel yourself reaching a familiar high, the buzz tingling between your legs, you grip his shoulders tight. Rafe feels your walls fluttering around him, and he quickened his pace, sweat breaking across his forehead.

Your breath is heavy, your heart is racing, and as you ascend into your peak, you moan out Rafe's name with such euphoric satisfaction, he comes with you, emptying into the condom.

When he finishes, he falls into the space next to you. His breathing is rough, trying to catch his own breath, that you can't help but turn your gaze to his, examining him under this new light.

Rafe catches you staring, the way your eyes lift to his hairline, and he reassures with a soft brush against your jaw. "It'll grow back, I promise."

"it's not that." You declare, dropping your gaze down to his face. You still can't believe the embarrassment you still feel by how attractive he is. "I like it."

"You do?"

"Why else would I hide from you?"

Rafe scoffs, shaking his head with a ghost of a smile on his lips. His hand drops to your waist, pulling you closer to him until you're skin-to-skin, your breasts pressing against his chest.

"You couldn't tell me the whole time?" He mumbles, kissing your nose. You giggle.

"If I did, we wouldn't be here having sex."

He takes a moment to consider your words, before finding some merit in them. "Fair." He declares, just as his eyes find yours again. This time, he can look at you, knowing you're his. "I guess next time I get a new haircut, I can propose, huh?"

Your heart drops. Your smile fades from surprise. "What?"

He laughs at your expression. "You think I'm letting you go after this? It's either us or nothing."

Maybe reality isn’t too bad. 

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[itsukicoded]

🤸🏽‍♂️💨.

#im starting to believe some traumas you just can’t recover from #and i don’t mean that in an edgy way i mean like. i have this deep seeded need (bars) to look out for others and to be relied on this #physical aversion to putting myself first that i don’t think i had when i was a child i grew up to be that kind of person #and at this point it’s just better for me to adjust my life in a way that doesn’t make me give these traits up—just that i need to create #boundaries that i myself cannot cross. but i even thought abt any of that bc my dear old cap moon is really fucking with me i had the day o #off today and have the day off tomorrow and always in my days off i have these crises when im not working am i human #it’s so embarrassing like 🙈 i like working 🙈 but i fucking hate my job if i worked somewhere i cared abt i would have to work 8 days a week #for my mental healthhhh it’s incredible and by incredible i mean terrible bc i don’t have a degree and don’t have anything i WANT to study #and beyond all that!! im having a hard time taking care of myself For myself 🧍🏽‍♀️i can’t do anything properly unless someone needs my help #that’s what happens when ur raised on presentabilityyyy but in all seriousness i never have motivation for solely myself only for others #maybe i should start being more delusional 😵‍💫 i dunno it just sucks that i have a hard time doing things or wanting to live the life im liv #it all feels so………..idk nothing feels right i just wish i had something i was working towards #my only inspiration for life is pancake since no one ever checks on me no one would be able to take care of her if anything happened to me #i know it’s not good to look towards the future to get through the present but if i at least had a checkpoint to reach…a water station in #the endless marathon i just want to catch my breath and turn around and see definite progress 😭 nothing abt where i am now if different than #last year i think thts really bothering me but i don’t really know where to go from here it’s making me anxious and shutdown stare at the #ceiling type beat rn it’s so numbing and exhausting at the same timeeee can’t i have a miracle???? i promise im hard working if i have a #task that needs to be done!!! like……….if someone asks me for something…….ah i need help i need help this life is so bleak ive been sitting #in the center of the ocean for weeks now and im not sure i trust myself enough to believe im sailing towards civilization #and i hate not being able to tell ppl what im working towards i don’t want to be working a minimum wage job for three years in a row 🧎🏽 #i dunno i dunno #maybe i just need to suck the fuck up and get involved on social mediaaaa this sucks i hate social media saur much lmao #personal

[zeldasnotes]

PLUTO NOTES

MOON NOTES VENUS NOTES MARS NOTES NEPTUNE NOTES

Plutonians and 8th housers can have a hard time with people being behind them. Also in the classroom, the bus or wherever they are they want to be in the back. They need their face facing the door so that they can see who walks in.

People with Pluto/Moon see stuff that other people just dont get to see. This is both good and bad. They get to experience intense and wonderful sexual relationships with others because they merge with others on a completely different level but they also recieve intense hatred from others too.

Dont ever mess with a Sun Square Pluto persons image or disrespect them infront of others, just dont.

Ive never met a person with Sun or Mercury Square Pluto who wasnt extremely strategic and calculating. They know when its time to leave the party.

If you have Venus/Pluto or Venus 8th house dont ever share to others who you are in love with. Just dont.

If you have Venus/Pluto or Venus 8th house and you notice people being completely taken by you, complimenting you bla bla for your beauty dont get all friendly and start trusting these people. Just wait and you will see that admiration turn to bitterness. A friend in my old class in High School got Venus Square Pluto and we had to watch another girl in our class try to BECOME her. Like she would buy the same clothes as her, talk like her, freaking SIT like her, cut her hair like her. We laughed at this bc the copycat was a nice and funny girl in general but it was creepy.

Most people with harsh Pluto aspects went through a time in their life where they shut down their feelings completely and became cold. These peoples minds can take them to dark places when they have been through trauma. Their first response to trauma might be to get cold. And this can make them very problematic until they heal. But when they heal they are the kindest, because they know pain.

When I hear the quote ”I didnt want to be strong I wanted to be happy.” I think of Pluto dominant people. Yes plutonians are strong but they were forced to, there was no other choice. Telling Plutonians ”But it made you stronger in the end” does not help because being strong was not their goal.

Ive seen Ceres(1) Square Pluto in a lot of charts of people who are obsessed with fitness and nutrition. Like people who weight their food, only eat a specific amount of calories etc.

Pluto/Moon people go through periods of extreme emotional turmoil. Especially the Square and Conjunction.

People with Sun or Moon Square Pluto always get what they want but they also get what they fear. Their feelings and thoughts are so strong. These people have experienced their worst fears happen to them. The kind of people to think for themselves ”I wouldnt be able to handle losing my bestfriend” and the next day their bestie leaves them for no reason. Its almost like there is some kind of test from life like ”Hmmm lets see how much this person can take😈”

Pluto conjunct a planet can in some cases make you suppress that placement or be afraid of that energy. I know a lot of people with Pluto Square Mars whos seriously afraid of conflict. Some people respond to trauma by becoming passive instead of being angered by it.

Pluto conjunct Ascendant in the Solar Return Chart makes you come across as more dominant and powerful. You wont think before you act because you are not as afraid this year.

Mars conjunct Pluto people are much more goal oriented than they even realize themselves. Constantly pushing themselves to become better and better. The kind of person to have the whole package like good job, fit, the best hair stylist, the latest clothes, the latest everything etc. Being the best is something they just do because they dont know anything else. They need structure and perfection. Nobody better look down on them. And Mars conjunct Pluto makes them driven enough to become ”perfect”. Others stare in awe because they could never have that drive. Others might be like ”You doing too much”. They dont realize this is what Mars/Pluto likes and needs.

Pluto in the 10th house makes someone have A LOT of haters and secret admirers. These people are constantly under intense scrutiny. Every word they say is made to be something bad or manipulative. The kind of person to say ”Oh what a beautiful dress!” And people will think they are being sarcastic when they are not. They got Regina George energy no matter how nice they are inside.

Pluto in the 3rd house really know what to say to make you hate yourself. If afflicted they can have a horrible mouth.

People with Mercury conjunct Pluto read into everything. Constantly finding flaws. Might see the worst in you because they project their own fears and insecurities onto others. The kind of person to hate people who snitch and gossip because they do it themselves.

People with a Plutonian Moon will recognize eachother at first sight.

Pluto conjunct Lust(4386) can make someone VERY sexual.

Pluto/Moon can mean your mom went to prison and Pluto/Sun can mean your dad went to prison.

With strong Pluto energy always remember this quote: ”Be nice to the people you meet on your way up, because you will need them on your way down.” Life can go from heaven to hell in a night for these people.

If you got Mercury Square Pluto please shut that cakehole when angry bc that mouth freaky as hell.

©️ 2023 Zeldas Notes

#astro notes #astrology #astro observations #astronotes #birth chart readings #venus square pluto #pluto 10th house #pluto conjunct ascendant

[midastouch-zaza]

Need a sequel to the Ahn Yujin bully storyline where MR humiliates by destroying her clothes in public.

[Sorry about posting less these days, people, but I'm kinda busy preparing my exams, I'll reprise to post more after tuesday, just hang in there. Also, given that today IVE dropped Accendio MV, it's the right occasion to write the second part of this work]

"Hey~, why don't we go back to our room and we have a bit of fun? You can be as much rough as you want", Yujin repeated to you for the fifth time this morning. She kept begging you to fuck her and honestly you were getting kinda tired of it.

After that time you snapped on her and gave her the fuck of her life, she transformed. She was no more your bully, but the clingiest slut ever. Always so touchy and provoking, trying to convince you all the times to make it happen again.

The first time you accepted, because you still had some anger to throw out, but lately it was becoming counterproductive: you were giving her a good time and she didn't deserve that after all the years she ruined your life.

Furthermore people seemed to not have understood at all the situation. "Look at him, he's in love with his bully" or "Such a loser, he's just her little sex toy" were just some of the rumors some dickhead spread in the campus.

So, you technically got your revenge but nobody acknowledged it, and that really got your nerve. "Come on, Oppa, let's go back, I'll let you use my body", she purred once more, making you snap in the middle of the hallroom.

"For fuck sake, shut up, whore, I don't want to fuck you now!", you shouted, making everyone turn their body in yours direction. "Shhh, Oppa, people don't know", she said, embarassed, covering her face with her hands.

Embarassed? She was embarassed! An evil smirk appeared on your face, finally your chance to clear your reputation arrived. "But people need to know, my dear Yujin", you said, an hint of sarcasm in your voice.

"You were begging me to fuck you, right? Why waiting to go back to our dorm? I'll use you right here", you kept speaking, being loud enough for everyone in the hallroom to hear your words. "Oppa, I don't think it's a good ide-", her words were cut off, as it happened already in your shared room.

You pushed her against the lockers, her face pressed against the cold metal. "Let me show you everyone who you really are", you announced, ripping off her tight leggings, revealing to everyone her fat ass and her pink pussy, already wet because of your rough treatment.

People started recording while you pulled your cock out and slammed inside her soaked pussy, making her moan like a slut. "Yeah, moan like that, like all the times I destroy you in our room", you keep sharing the truth.

Yujin was super red in face, embarassed like never before, but at the same time she couldn't deny the pleasure your cock was giving her, pressing her ass against your hard shaft. But it was not just the sex, no, that humiliating feeling actually turned her on so much.

All the school now knew she was no more a scary bully but just your cumdump, always ready and needy of your cock. She tried nonetheless to hide her face against the metal, but you were quick to pull her short hair, showing everyone her expression full of lust.

"Don't you even try, slut, just admit you're addicted to my cock", you growled, moving her towards the crowd and then ripping also her fancy shirt. Now she was basically naked, only her shoes and some rags were still on her body.

Her tits were jiggling so much, while you were pounding her pussy from behind. "It's true, this is the real me: a slut who loves to be humiliated and used", she screamed, moaning while she reached her orgasm.

Few minutes later you also reached your climax, filling her pussy as usual with your sticky cum, but this time in front of everyone. Your job was finished: now the situation was reversed. You were the bully and her the loser.

You pulled your cock inside your pants again, leaving her still catching her breath, while laying almost naked on the floor, covering herself with just her arms. "See you later in our room...loser", you said, going away and chuckling.

#kpop smut #kpop thoughts #girl group smut #kpop x male reader #girl groups x male reader #ive smut #ive yujin #ive x male reader #yuju x male reader #yujin smut #izone x male reader #izone smut #izone yujin

[dnpbeats]

Ive been seeing some big youtubers and creators announce (seperately) that they're going on tours, and a lot of of them are full on stage shows. These are people with tens of millions of followers each.

And then I think about the fact that dan and phil are the reason they can. Dan and phil completely pioneered the industry for online creators. They were the first youtubers to do a world tour of a stage show. First youtubers to show that they are actually professional enemtertainers and not just ameteur comedians. They were the first youtubers to have their own radio show in the uk. They were the success story that a lot of people built their success on the back of. If tatinof didnt work, it wouldve taken so much longer before online creators would've been taken seriously by venues as comedians/artists/entertainers. If internet takeover didnt work it would've taken so much longer for creators to be offered jobs in mainstream media, as tv/radio presenters, in documentaries, on gameshows etc.

Like yeah, it probably would've happened eventually anyway, but it happened a lot earlier than it would've bc of them. They were the first. And absolutely no one acknowledges that. No one even knows, except for them and us.

Even though dnp in 2024 are by far not the most prominent creators out there, I do think they have had one of the most successful careers of any youtuber/streamer out there. I think they achieved far more in terms of career success and opportunities with their 4-6million joint subscriber count than most of the people with 20million plus subs have, which is pretty cool. Their careers are not built on 5mins of fame. They have understanding of the industry, work ethic, and skill to ensure long careers, even if those careers morph over time. They wont be youtubers for ever, but they will be successful in whatever they do, that I am certain of.

Idk im just feeling emotions about them. Im proud if them. And im excited to see where they go.

NO NOTES ANON!!!!! this is all so true!

I have seen a lot of people mention the fact that d&p are not as popular as they used to be/don't get as many views as they used to as if it's a negative but I don't think it's bad at all, because of all of what you said. they were doing shit that no one else was doing! they paved the way for youtubers to break out of the yt sphere!! which is so amazing but also they were doing SO MUCH for so long. they were carrying the industry on their backs lmao. so now I'm so happy for them that they have the opportunity to chill out and just do what they wanna do. they're just making the content they wanna make and they aren't concerned with how many views they're getting or trying to remain relevant (which I think they still are, but yk what I mean), and they deserve that. because while everything they did was awesome and should absolutely be celebrated, I think it's great that now they have the opportunity to create more casually and they don't need to worry about doing numbers. like yes yt is still their livelihood but in a much more laid-back way yk? and I think that because they did so much, and like you said have understanding of the industry and a good work ethic, that's what allowed them to build a fanbase that has stuck around and that fanbase is why they can be more relaxed now

I agree they might not be youtubers forever but I'm also excited to see what projects they eventually move on to bc they'll slay fs

#dan and phil #ask #anon

[rollingsins]

all hers, part xviii

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi | part vii | part viii | part ix | part x | part xi | part xii | part xiii | part xiv | part xv | part xvi | part xvii | part xviii | part xix | part xx | part xxi | part xxii | part xxiii | part xxiv | part xxv | part xxvi | epilogue

summary: R and the Scooby-gang put into place their Ghostface trap.

warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, violence, murder.

word count: 2.1k

a/n: thought it was time for the GF reveal! were you right? wrong? idk, let me know!

You make it to the school in the passenger seat of Sam’s car without speaking the entire journey. 

You feel hollow. Like the world is crumbling around you, and Sam must feel it too. Her grip on the wheel is tight, sturdy, like she knows exactly what she has to do now. 

What you both have to do now. 

Get him. Kill him. For Tara. 

Mindy’s waiting outside the school when you pull up. 

She peers into the backseat, looking for Tara, looking a little confused when she can find her. 

“Where’s Tara?” Mindy asks.

Sam brushes her off. 

“Change of plan. Tara isn’t coming. It’s just us.”

Mindy’s eyes widen. 

“Sam,” She says, voice slow. Her eyes dart to you, “We can’t do this without Tara.” 

“Tara isn’t coming,” Sam stresses, “And we need to do this. For Tara, do you understand?” 

Mindy blinks. She fidgets with her phone. 

“I’m going to call her first and check.” She eyes you, no doubt terrified of the consequence if something were to happen to you. Tara isn’t shy about her love for you, and she certainly isn’t shy about what would happen to anyone who ever hurt you. 

“She’s been arrested,” You say, voice impatient, “She won’t pick up. The only way to help her is to catch this guy.” 

Mindy gawps. 

“She’s been arrested?”

“There’s no time,” Sam says, urgently, “Mindy, come on. YN, go to detention.” 

She puts her hands on your shoulders, squeezes tight. 

“And good luck.” 

-

The plan is so stupidly simple, yet there are about a hundred ways it can go wrong. 

You run through them on your way to detention, mind whirling, barely having the strength to put one foot in front of the other. 

Firstly, the band of so-called Ghost-face protectors is possibly the worst collaboration of people in the entire school to do the job. Chad’s a meathead. Liv, his ditzy companion. Mindy is all ludicrous theories and useless horror film knowledge, and you’re either so small or so weak your hundred pound, five foot one girlfriend can put you on your back without so much as breaking a sweat. 

Your only saving grace, it seems, is Sam. 

You’d left her with Mindy, shotgun in hand, dressed in a tank top and a pair of old ripped jeans, looking very much like she’s about to rip through a horde of zombies, rather than take on a single Ghostface. 

The only bright side to this awful situation is you no longer have to worry about Tara at the end of Ghostface’s knife. But the alternative - Tara locked in a jail cell for the rest of her life, is almost as bad. 

Principal Garcia greets you, looking very much like he’d rather be anywhere else on his Saturday off. Sam had called ahead about Tara and he either doesn’t care, or can’t be bothered to ask how she is. 

Instead, he sits at the front of the classroom, peering down at a newspaper through his spectacles as you settle into the front desk, nervously tapping your foot against the ground. 

Your eyes draw to the clock on the wall. 

The quiet click. The sound of Principal Garcia flipping his newspaper every now and then. Your heart is in your throat and it’s pounding so loud it drowns out almost everything else. 

This has to work. 

It if doesn’t - you’re fucked. 

You look behind you, to the closets lining the back of the room and pray Chad and Liv are already in there. You have one of Sam’s handguns in your backpack. You keep it on your lap, resting your hand on it, needing it close. 

Minutes pass. 

Ten. Twenty. Thirty. 

No sign of Ghostface. 

Your eyes glance up at the clock once more. 

You swallow. Start to think maybe this entire foolhardy plan is all for nothing. 

And then you see it. 

Through the crack of glass in the door, the bone-white of the mask. The long, black mouth. The hood. And before you can so much as cry out - Ghostface is ramming into the classroom, his knife raised. 

You scream. 

Principal Garcia’s head jerks around. 

Ghostface’s movements are steady, calculated. He rushes forward and in one easy swing, he slashes his knife towards Principal Garcia and slashes through his raised forearm.

“Sam!” You cry out. 

Ghostface’s head whips around to look at you. Principal Garcia crumbles to the ground, gasping, holding his bloodied arm. 

The cabinets burst open. 

Chad and Liv stumble out. Chad lets out what can only be described as a war-cry and charges forward, taking Ghostface off guard and tackling him to the ground. 

You stand, hands shaky as you reach for the pistol in your backpack. You click the safety off and raise it. Chad has Ghostface pinned down. The knife in his hands clatters to the ground. 

You squint, heart pounding as you try to find the shot. But their bodies are entwined, Chad’s grip on Ghostface lessening slightly as Ghostface juts his head upwards and smacks it into Chad’s. 

Chad cries out. 

Ghostface musters the strength to shake Chad off. 

You fire out a shot. 

But your grip isn’t steady. Your aim all over the place. The bullet whizzes past Ghostface and lodges itself into the blackboard. 

Ghostface reaches for his knife and stands. He’s tall, menacing. He steps closer. 

“Sam!” You cry out. 

The mask tilts. The knife in his hands gleaming. He takes another step closer, confident. Like he knows you’ll miss again. 

“Don’t come any closer, asshole.” Liv says. You feel her behind you, at your shoulder, “Shoot him, YN!” 

You fire again. 

And miss. 

All those practices with your Dad. All those bottles you’d blown clean open have nothing on the real thing. The adrenaline is too much. The fear of him is too much. 

“Where’s your girlfriend, YN?” He taunts. He flashes the knife, stepping closer once more. Another step and he’d be close enough to disarm you. You stumble back, gun in your hand shaking madly. 

“Guess she’s finally getting what she deserves,” He says, “And now I’m going to give you what you deserve.” 

The classroom door rams open once again. 

It draws both of your attention. It’s Sam, Mindy at her side. Her shotgun is drawn, her eyes blazing. 

“Back up asshole,” Sam says, voice even. Her hand isn’t shaking, she’s calm. Steady. You know she won’t miss. 

“Take off that mask and I won’t blow you bit from bit,” She says. She moves a little closer. 

If Ghostface knows he’s cornered, he doesn’t act like it. He turns from you like you’re not a threat, looks over to Sam and tuts at her. 

“Sam, Sam, Sam.” Ghostface says, “So protective. Such a good sister. I wonder if you’d still protect her if you knew. If you knew what sweet baby-Tara did in her spare time.” 

Sam cocks the gun. 

“Last chance,” She growls, “I won’t ask again.”

The adrenaline in your body evens out. Your heartbeat slows, the determination in your eyes settles. You steady your hands, knowing what you have to do. 

Sam wants him alive. Sam wants him to see justice. 

But if he’s alive, he can talk. 

If he’s alive he’ll tell everyone what Tara’s done. And you can’t have that. 

You lift your gun, only slightly. You close one eye, the way your Dad had taught you. 

You feel ethereal. Out of body. This is what Tara must feel like when she does it. Vision tunneled, like there’s only one thing in the world you want to do. 

And then you shoot a bullet right into Ghostface’s chest. 

Liv screams. 

The sound of the gun firing leaves your ears ringing. 

Sam blinks, startled, as Ghostface stumbles back, clutching the bloodied hole in his chest. 

He crumples to the ground, right next to Principal Garcia, gasping. 

You charge forward, kicking the knife out of his hands. 

There’s only one thing on your mind. You have to know who it is. You have to see his face before you blow it clean off. 

You lean down and rip the mask off the fuckers face. 

Liv gasps. Chad gawps. 

Sam’s grip on the shotgun wavers. 

You blink down in surprise. 

It’s Richie.

His eyes are wild, hazy. Blood pours thick and fast out of the bullet wound in his chest. The look in his eyes is terrifying. Pure hatred, hatred of you. Hatred of Tara. His mouth opens like he wants to speak, but he’s too injured. He’s moments from death, you can see it in his face.

Sam almost drops her gun. She sinks back, caught only by Mindy who steadies her shoulders. 

You swallow, mind racing. 

All those nights with him, the games with him. He’d slept only doors down from you and Tara. Tara had been so insistent it was him and you hadn’t listened. Because it didn’t make sense. 

Why?

He’s dead before he can give you an answer. 

“Holy shit.” Chad murmurs. His hands grip Liv’s shoulders. He looks to you, wide-eyed, “Are you alright?”

There’s a frog in your throat. You clear it once, twice, unable to take your eyes off the man who had tormented you for the past few weeks. 

“He didn’t get me.” You say. You suddenly remember Principal Garcia and look over to him. He’s clutching his arm, eyes as wide as everyone else's, but other than the gash, he looks okay. 

“Sam,” You murmur, looking over to her. 

Her face is white, no doubt her entire world crumbling around her. 

“Sam, are you okay? We need to call the police.” 

“They’re on their way,” Mindy says, rubbing Sam’s back, “I called them preemptively. Thought we might need them.” 

You place your gun on one of the desks, move over to where Sam is sitting. You crouch down, rest your hands on the tops of Sam’s thighs.

“Sam,” You say, “It’s over. It’s going to be okay. This is going to save Tara.” 

Sam blinks back at you but she’s barely there. She looks as though she might pass out. 

“Sam,” You promise, “It’s over.” 

-

The police arrive not five minutes later. 

The Sheriff blazes through the halls, stares wide-eyed at Richie’s dead body, Ghostface mask clattered next to him. 

They take your statements, one by one. 

Mindy tells them in great detail about the plan to capture him. Principal Garcia is rushed off to hospital to treat his arm. Sam sits quietly, not uttering a word until she’s spoken to. 

“My sister-” She says, voice hoarse. She’s blinking, slow, “You’re going to let her go now?”

The Sheriff pauses. 

“It’s not that simple, Sam,” She says, “We have witnesses- she was the last person to see my son alive-”

“That doesn’t mean shit,” Snaps Sam. She gestures to Richie’s body, “We’ve given you him. Clear as day. He framed my sister and you need to let her go.” 

Sheriff Hicks considers this. 

She looks over at Richie’s body, a little mournful, “If you’d kept him alive we could have interrogated him and cleared Tara’s name for good-” 

“It was self-defense.” Liv says, immediately, “He came at YN and the only way she could protect herself was by killing him. Right guys?” 

Mindy and Chad nod in unison. 

Sheriff Hicks stares at you. 

“Why would he kill my son?” She asks, and it’s urgent. Her eyes flitter, a mesh of grief and sorrow and confusion, “He didn’t even know him. Why would he kill him?”

“I don’t know.” You say. You swallow, “I’m sorry, Sheriff Hicks.” 

She stares back at you a moment. 

Then she’s nodding, blinking away the array of emotions she’d briefly allowed you to see. 

“That’s for me to figure out,” She says. She looks over at Sam, “We’ll release Tara. But Sam - that doesn’t mean she still isn’t a suspect. If we find any link between them-”

“There’s no link.” Sam says, “My sister is innocent.” 

The Sheriff nods. 

“I’ll call the station.” 

She moves over to speak to another officer. The relief on Sam’s face is palpable. You squeeze her thigh, mirror her relief with yours. 

Tara’s coming home. You’d given the police what they wanted - a suspect to pin the murders on. She’d come home and you’d kiss her and hold her and never let her go again. Your veins flood with dopamine, the nicest high you could possibly imagine. 

Tara’s safe. 

But Mindy's frowning. You move over to her, frowning a little. 

“What is it?” You ask. 

Mindy turns to you, the look in her eyes urgent. 

“Richie was there that night,” She says, “The night Tara was attacked. He was there with you and he wasn’t Ghostface. Not that night.” 

You blink. 

Mindy seizes your arm. 

“There’s two, YN,” She says, “There’s fucking two of them.” 

And your blood runs cold. 

#all hers #ghostface!tara #mine #fanfic #scream vi #tara carpenter #jenna ortega #tara carpenter x yn #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega x yn #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x reader

[poeghoul]

hard times iv

in which they share a first kiss.

word count: 4,567 warnings: fluff. fluff. major fluff. authors note: i love them so much. so happy with this part <3

three masterlist

It had become their new routine; Harry would pick y/n up from work, they would head back to her place and just lay with each other on her bed. It was bliss. Harry had never felt so warm in the coldest months of his life. She had become his sun. And he was her moon. Every star had shined brighter since she had come into his life. He was overcome by joy, and the little voice that warned him seemed to quiet down. 

Y/n, like usual, fell asleep on Harry's chest. He was properly messing up her sleep schedule with how comfortable he was to fall asleep on. But how could she resist? He was warm and she had never felt more safe. 

Harry loved to watch her sleep. He loved to watch her chest rise and fall at a slow, steady pace, loved to hear her soft breaths escape her lips, loved to be the one she fell asleep on. It was intimate, and though he had many, many partners, he felt this was the most intimate relationship he’d ever had. He hadn’t even kissed her yet; hadn’t even taken her on a date and though she didn’t mind, she hoped it would come soon. It scared him, not the date aspect, but the idea that she could say no. He was too in his head about it, fearful that the girl he’d deemed his sweet, little lamb would run off from a stalking predator ready to strike. 

He was nothing of the sort. Nothing if not gentle with her.

He would never hurt her; wished to never see her cry again. 

He’d gotten to know who she is, what she’s like when he’s not being standoffish or short with her. He learned she loved green, deep greens, and that the fall to winter transition was her favorite, even though the time change was damning for her. That her favorite scents were ones that made her feel warm inside. That she was a maximalist and called herself a hoarder because of it. He learned so much about her in so little time. He learned that he was truly fucked, that he was truly head over heels for her. 

And she had learned so much about him, too. Learned that he loved to sing and play guitar when he had the time. Learned that Jax, Daniel, Lee and the rest of his “men” lived with him and most of the time, Harry wished they didn’t. He loved his alone time where he was able to be himself and not have to think about the numbers or details about his job. A job that terrified y/n, but she’d never dare to tell him. He loved blues and oranges, loved cooking and tending to his garden. Loved things she’d never expect him to. The majority of his interests had come as a surprise to her. 

She loved his curls and the smell of his hair products. Loved his voice in the morning, deep and husky with the way he said good morning. Loved his forehead kisses, and holding his hand, and doing just about everything with him now. He was her newfound home. She’d go with him anywhere.

She’d never met anyone as soft with her as he is. She doesn’t think she’d meet anyone else who is. That made her happy. He made her happy; she was over the moon with him. Delighted in spending any waking moment with him. 

+++

“Would you want to go on a date?” Harry stood against the only unoccupied kitchen counter in y/n’s apartment (he had told her many times already that her kitchen space was far too small for someone who bakes at her frequency). Her head shot up, looking at him with a slack jaw. An expression that made him smirk while he sucked frosting off his thumb, a ‘hmm’ sound leaving his lips; a gesture that had her throat drying instantly. 

“Like, a real date?” he nodded. She bit her lips in her mouth, looking down at the plate of cinnamon rolls she was currently frosting. Timidly, she nods, mumbling the tiniest ‘yeah’ against Harry’s wishes. 

“Didn’t hear that, little lamb. Won’t you speak up for me?” he stepped closer to her, looking down at her as she refused to show him her blushing cheeks. 

“Harry,” she whined, still not daring to look at him. 

“What? Couldn’t hear ya, that’s all.” she didn’t even have to look at him to know he was still wearing his smirk. 

She rolled her eyes and shook her head before responding. “Yes,” she said, still quiet as a mouse. 

But still, Harry wasn’t giving her what she wanted. “Hmm, still didn’t get that, angel.”

She pouted, finally looking at him and not caring that her cheeks were a deep red. “Yes. Yes I want to go on a date with you, Harry!” she practically shouted. He grinned down at her, dimples piercing his cheeks. “Are you happy now?” 

“Yes, actually.” he scooped some frosting onto his finger and dabbed the white cream on her nose. She scrunched up her nose, her pout disappearing into a smile, “very happy now.” he said before holding the sides of her face and promptly licking the frosting off her nose, eliciting a squeal-like laugh from the girl. 

“You’re so annoying,” she giggled, still grinning up at him. There had to be glitter in her eyes with the way they were sparkling. Harry swore there was a hole in the ceiling and her eyes were reflecting the brightest stars ever seen by man. “What do you want to watch tonight?” She asked the same question just about every night, always offering him to pick. He memorized her favorite shows (not her favorite movies though, as she had something called “top fifty picks”, which consisted of fifty of her favorite movies) and always made sure to pick something she’d love, even if he wasn’t a fan (he would never tell her that).

They sat down on the edge of her bed, a single plate rested on her thigh with two cinnamon rolls. She finally had the patience to wait for the dough to rise now that she wasn’t always alone and succumbing to her intrusive thoughts the winter brought. Time with Harry was the best distraction. 

He held the remote in his hand, the piece of black plastic looked like it was made for babies in his large hands. He waited for her tv to connect to the wifi and scrolled through hulu while she waited patiently, her chin resting on his shoulder. He decided on PEN15 and set the remote beside him so they could dig in to their sweet treat. 

It was the best cinnamon roll Harry had ever had. 

+++

“I’ve always wanted to go there,” y/n said from the passenger seat as they passed by a recently shut down roller rink. Harry briefly looked to his right, the bright colors of the sign blurring past them as he drove. 

They were on their way to pick up a pizza from the only pizza joint in their town Harry wouldn’t refuse to eat. Once he realized her diet mainly consisted of diner food and baked goods he swore he’d buy or make her something every night. Ever since that decision, y/n had not felt nearly as poor as she had before. Her stomach issues were significantly better. 

“When did it close?” 

“M’not sure, I think, like, a month or so ago. I dunno.” she shrugged, her hand playing with the rings on his right hand that rested above her knee. Her fingers were always cold, Harry thought to buy her some mittens, or even to take up crocheting to try and make her some. 

The ride was silent, not filled with tension as it had been when they first met, but one with comfort and warmth. Harry left the car running as he went inside to pay and pick up their pre order. A large cheese pizza to share. He was happy to know she had an aversion to meat just as he did. 

Y/n had never gone to Harry’s home. Didn’t even know where or what part of town he lived in, if he even lived in town. He was strict, for some reason, on her not venturing there. Which is why they always hung out at her apartment even though he thought it was far too small even for one person.

Harry parked in his normal spot and ran over to y/n’s side to open the door for her and pick the pizza up from off her lap, the heat from the pizza almost burning her thighs, she didn’t mind, though, it was nearly freezing out (for her). She thanked him as they made their way up the stairs. The bells on her doorknob no longer bothered Harry. Much like her, he’d gotten used to the annoying sound. 

And as per usual, they sat on the edge of her bed, two slices of pizza sat on a plate that rested on her lap, and she waited to start on her piece until Harry had selected something to watch. Entertainment was necessary for consuming a meal, even if she had Harry with her.

He was quiet the rest of the night. It worried her to no end, he hadn’t been like this in some time. And he left at 8 pm, even though he said he’d stay the night, claiming he had a meeting with Niall he had to prepare for. She kissed his cheek and mumbled a good night before he walked out her front door. 

Her tongue was thick in her mouth, lip quivering and eyes welling over with tears that dared to spill at any moment. Her heart pounded in her chest, somehow feeling so heavy but empty at the same time. The anxiety she hadn’t felt in weeks was creeping up her throat, greeting her with a gag and bile toppling to her floor. A vicious way to say “hello, I’ve missed you”. Her mind was reeling, going at a million miles an hour, all thoughts of Harry calling off their date, blocking her phone number and pretending she never existed plagued her mind. She heaved out a sob, pulling her knees to her chest and letting the tears fall freely. She didn’t even care about the mess she had made, she just wanted to sleep and ignore the pain she hadn’t felt in months. The tender ache an unignorable feeling even as she slept. 

+++

H.🕯💌

Good morning, little lamb. Jax will be taking you to work this morning. Please call me when you’re off. Xx

She tenderly held the phone in her hand, a wave of relief flooded her as she read the message, thankful her anxious thoughts were disproven. That was the only good moment of her morning.

As soon as she got out of bed, her right foot stepped into the puddle she had accidentally left overnight. She gagged, covering her mouth with her hand and let out a small scream of disgust. Hopping on one foot, she grabbed a roll of paper towels from her counter and hopped back over to her mess. She practically unraveled half of the roll and laid it over the puddle before wiping her foot off. While cleaning her mess, she calculated how long of a shower would be acceptable this morning in order to not be late to work. If she didn’t make a coffee or have a cigarette that would give her an additional twelve minutes to get ready, and eight of those would be spent in the shower, so maybe she would be able to make a coffee if she allowed it to brew while she showered. If she brushed her teeth in the shower would that give her more time?

Jax was always early, standing next to the back passenger door right outside her apartment building, and sent her a toothy smile. “Sweet pea,” he greeted her as she buried her face in his chest, placing a kiss to the crown of her head. “Rough morning?” she nodded into his chest.

Her shower wasn’t even peaceful, the water was freezing, she almost fell when she got out, barely catching herself on the edge of the sink, and her mascara was not doing her long lashes justice, just leaving clumps of black on the small hairs. 

Just eight hours. Eight hours of orders being barked at her, arguments with the cooks and a small unpleasant interaction with Ross in passing. Just had to get through that and she’d be able to retreat to her home and call Harry and hear his deep, soothing voice. The time would go by quickly, right? It had to, just had to. 

But this was y/n, a girl plagued by an unjust number of unlucky days. The hours went by so slowly, she swore she’d turned 25 by the time her first fifteen minute break came. And she spilled coffee on herself, rolled her ankle and dropped a plate of scrambled eggs, sausage and pancakes all over the vinyl checkered flooring. By 12 pm, she had three cigarettes and four cups of black coffee. She hated black coffee. 

She felt drained by the time 3 pm rolled around, and couldn’t wait for her last table in her section to pay their tab. It was a group of four guys, all around her age and fairly attractive but nothing in comparison to Harry. They had asked her a series of uncomfortable questions and asked her to be in their tiktoks, she politely declined each time they asked, offering a smile and a ‘I’m not allowed to, sorry’ at every request.

Once she had seen them put a card on the receipt on the table, she practically ran over and picked it up off the table to run it through their outdated machine. She was buzzing with excitement. She approached the table, leaving their copy and the diner's copy of the receipt on the edge with the card on top, but they weren’t letting her go that easy. 

“Wait,” one of them, a curly headed brunette, grabbed her arm as she turned to walk off. “Do you have snapchat?” he held his phone out, the app already opened, for her to grab. She wasn’t sure she was hiding her annoyed expression well.

“Oh, I have a boyfriend. Sorry,” she half smiled at them, a dimple carving in only one of her cheeks. 

“You can’t have friends?” he laughed.

“I can.” she deadpanned, “I’m just respectful towards my partner.” 

They all scoffed, the one with a poorly grown mustache rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Whatever, you’re not even that pretty.” She smiled at that. 

+++

“Harry,” y/n whined from the passenger seat, a blindfold covering her eyes while Harry held both her wrists in his right hand. He chuckled at her, barely acknowledging her. 

“Don’t want to hear it, little lamb.”

“But-”

“But nothing.” he squeezed her wrists for a brief second, “gotta be a good girl and stay quiet if you want your surprise.” That had her heart pounding, a pool of warmth between her thighs, but she ignored the sensation. 

“Pleeaaaseee,” she turned her head, pouting at him, or at least she thinks she did. She doesn’t know if he had seen it. 

Harry had told her over the phone that they’d go on their date that night and to wear her bell bottom jeans and to avoid wearing a chunky sweater. She reminded him it was late December in northern California, he simply told her to bring a jacket and that he’d be there at six before hanging up. 

She rummaged through her closet as soon as he hung up to find her jeans, unsure of when she had last worn them or if they were even clean (they weren’t, she had to pay a visit to the small laundry room in her complex and prayed they’d be washed and dried in time). She paired the jeans with a tiny tank top with lace details and bow that embellished the neckline, but covered her top half with her thickest sweatshirt. 

Again, he squeezed her wrists together and shushed her while wearing a grin. 

At some point, she could feel him making four right turns and two u turns at different lights. He was trying to throw her off, she could tell. He had thrown her off the moment he pulled the blindfold out and covered her eyes as she got in his car. He had to resort to holding her wrists, not trusting her after her first attempt to pull it off. 

“Almost there, angel.” he spoke quietly. She just nodded in response, eager to be there already and see what he had planned. She had made up a variety of scenarios, one being a road trip to Disneyland (unrealistic) another being a museum date (also unrealistic, there were no museums in their tiny town). She was buzzing in her seat, anxious to get out and rip the stupid blindfold off. 

The car was shifted into park but Harry still hadn’t released her wrists. She went to whine again to him but he cut her off before she had the chance. 

“If I let go of your wrists, you promise to not peak?” she hesitated but nodded. “Y/n,” he said in a stern tone. 

“Harry,” she whined once more, “I won’t, I won’t I promise.”

“If you peak we’re leaving, got it?” she nodded immediately. “Good girl.” she smiled as he released her wrists. She had to put her hands under her thighs to keep from removing the blindfold. 

Harry opened the door for her and grabbed each of her hands again, but this time he was guiding her. 

“We’re gonna go up a ramp,” he instructed her, allowing her to brace herself for the sudden incline. Her heart pounded in her chest, she felt like vomiting all over again. “Going inside now,” he guided her through the door, holding it open with his elbow. Funky disco music played loudly and she could faintly hear arcade games in the back. 

He continued to guide her throughout the, still unknown, place. She even tried to tip her head back to peak out the small gap but Harry caught her as soon as she made the move. She groaned at him. 

“I’ll take it off right now lamb, don’t be impatient.” She pouted at him as he let go of her hands, grabbing her shoulders instead to position her correctly. “Okay, my little eager bunny,” he took the blindfold off, she squinted at the sudden lights. “Happy first date,” he whispered in her ear, kissing her head. 

Her mouth was agape, slightly frowning, her eyes welling all over again, about to pour over at the sweetest gesture ever made.

The disco music was louder, a man stood in a booth with DJ equipment before him, neon lights roamed the room and a disco ball reflected all over the big, empty space, casting a fluorescent glow on the two. Shooting games, skee ball and an air hockey table was on her right side, behind that a snack counter, a worker messing with her phone stood alone, and behind a grinning Harry, another employee stood with racks of rollerskates behind him. 

He had brought her to the roller rink. The exact one she had brought up the previous day. 

Once Harry noticed her expression, his face fell, his hands going to her waist to pull her into him. “What’s wrong, little lamb?” she shook her head, her tears falling freely, “Baby, please. Please tell me what’s wrong,” Harry’s voice was just above a whisper.

Still she shook her head, sniffling. “Nothing, Harry.” she cried, “this is the sweetest thing anyones ever done for me. It’s so,” she sniffled again, “you’re so perfect.” she scrunched his sweater up with her hands as she burrowed her face into his neck, pecking at the exposed skin. His hands rubbed her back, breathing in a sigh of relief. He had truly thought he messed the whole night up, thinking that maybe when she said she had always wanted to come her she had meant with someone else. He was so grateful for a different answer. “Thank you,” she whispered, kissing his neck once more before releasing her death grip on him and giving him a smile. He grinned back at her and kissed her nose, she giggled.

“Of course, little lamb. I’d do anything for you.” that alone had her ready to sob all over again. “What size, princess?” 

+++

Harry was terrible at skating.

He, for some reason, thought he’d be a pro at it. 

But he was absolutely not a pro, could barely even stand for more than ten seconds without almost losing his balance. He was gripping y/n’s arm so hard it was likely he’d leave a bruise for her to discover the following day. She insisted he use one of those skate mate guides, but he was too stubborn and refused. He fell on his ass right after he scoffed at her for even suggesting it. 

Y/n was holding his hands while she skated backwards, watching his feet and giving him pointers to make it easier. “Keep your knees bent,” she slowed down their speed so he could readjust his stance, his feet almost rolling out from beneath him as he almost wobbled over. She grinned at him even though he was too focused on his feet. 

“Maybe you should skate by yourself for a minute,” he exhaled through his mouth, still looking down at his feet. 

“No, I wanna skate with you.” He just shook his head, letting go of her hands. “Please,” she grabbed his forearm, trying to stabilize him once more. He gave her a half smile. “You’re just trying too hard, I promise it gets easier.”

“Just wanna sit for a minute.”

“Okay.” She helped him to the edge of the rink, watching as he sat down on the bench and ran a hand through his hair. 

“Show me how fast you are, little lamb.” He cocked his head to the side, smirking at her and leaning back on his hands. 

She gulped, the fire deep in her was reignited once more, but again she ignored the feeling. She took off, shuffling her feet beneath her and leaning slightly when the rink curved. The wind on her face felt nice, the heater that filled the room with a warmth that would be comfortable if not trying to skate for two people and her chunky sweatshirt had been overheating her, her cheeks a bright pink. Harry was hollering at her from his spot on the sideline, “See how fast you can go without me? I’m weighing you down, little one.” 

Laughing, she turned on her heel to skate backwards while she passed him, showing off her skills she had learned when she took up skating years ago, and turned right back around to gain more speed.

The DJ was set on playing a mix of the Bee Gees, ABBA and Earth, Wind & Fire, the best skating mix in her opinion. She whirled past Harry in a blur, barely seeing the grin that took up half his face. He shook his head at her, impressed with her ability to not only balance on the skates but also go as fast as she was. He just wished he could be doing it with her. 

“Please come back out, Harry. I won’t let you fall, I promise!” she shouted from across the rink, slowing down her pace and holding her hands together as she approached him, her bottom lip jutting out in a pout. 

“I’ll have to think about it.”

“Please,” she whined, standing right in front of him, her hands still clasped in front of her. 

“Hmmm,” he tapped his chin, mocking her. “No.”

“I thought we were on a date.”

“We are, last I checked.”

“So you have to skate with me, Harry, that’s, like, a rule.” 

He took his bottom lip in his mouth for a moment, watching as she stared at his lips even after he released it. “Fine,” she grinned, and stepped on the platform with the bench to help him up. “I’ll skate with you,” she grabbed his hands, helping him stand up to tower over her. He looked down at her while she grinned up at him, hands still intertwined, but she made no effort to move. Neither did he. 

Slowly, Harry began to lean in, his eyes still piercing into hers, while she tilted her head back. She gulped as he leaned in further to close the distance between their lips, her eyes closing with bliss. 

His lips were soft, plush against her own, his warmth radiating off his body. Gently, his hands broke from her tight grip, resting on her cheeks to pull her closer to him. Her lips were sweet, the blue raspberry Icee she had ordered from the snack counter lingering. Harry reveled in the taste, silently begging for more. He couldn’t get enough. She was soft, delicate in his hands and he held her like a porcelain doll, so incredibly careful to not break the precious glass of her skin. 

She wanted, no, needed more of him. Wanted him to be hers entirely. Wanted to feel him entirely. She gripped the hem of his sweater, whining on his lips as he wouldn’t allow her tongue access to wander where it pleased. She was electric, on fire and still he wasn’t giving her what she wanted.

Hesitantly, he pulled away, sucking on her bottom lip slightly before releasing it. Her eyes fluttered open, pupils dilated, taking up more space than Harry liked. He smiled down at her, longing in his eyes, and kissed her nose before moving his hands to hold hers once again.

“I thought we were here to skate?” he teased, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. She, naturally, smushed her face into his chest again, taking in the scent of his cologne, her newfound favorite scent. Pine. 

“Wanna go home,” she mumbled into the wool of his sweater. 

“Hmm, why’s that?”

“Wanna lay with you and sleep,” still muffled. 

Harry exhaled deeply through his nose, breaking his gaze set at the crown of her head, suddenly fearful he had ruined her night by innocently kissing her. He removed one of his hands from hers, patting her on the back before slightly pushing her away. “You sure?” she nodded. “Okay, let’s go.”

“Will we be able to come back? How much longer will they be open?”

He grinned, “whenever you liked. I know the new owner.” He didn’t mention it was himself. 

+++

The tv played quietly, a rerun of Bojack Horseman playing (the talking horse show as Harry liked to call it) while she slept on his chest. A snoopy blanket covered her boy as Harry laid succumbing to the cold bite of her apartment. He didn’t mind the chill, wouldn’t even mind freezing if it meant she’d be with him as he endured the hypothermic shock. The pain would serve as a reminder that they both were real and together. 

In a whisper, an “I love you” was heard. 

crying only because i'm happy

tags: @tiaamberxx @jerseygirlinca @n0vaj3an @tpwk-mia @indierockgirrl @buckybarnessimpp @hannah9921 @love-letters-to-uranus @ribbonknives @annesauriol @moneybaby07 @stylesfever @hermionelove

#harry #harry styles #harry smut #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #one direction #harry imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfiction #harry one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry fic #writing

[janaispunk]

are you ever dreaming of me?

series masterlist • this is part IV

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

a/n: This got very dark very quickly, but it had to be done. It’s basically just one big love letter from me to Dave and his character. I know Dave’s behavior in the last chapter has been a little frustrating but I hope it’ll make more sense now (it’s still frustrating though ngl). I also know this is not as smut-heavy as the other chapters, which might come as a disappointment to some. Stay with me here, more filth is coming soon, I just had to get emotional for a second. <3 (also, please be nice because I lowkey hate this, actually)

word count: ~3.1k

summary: Dave’s side of the story.

warnings: ANGST, bits of fluff if you squint, age-gap, mentions of killing people, mentions of death, mentions of rough sex, power imbalance, able-bodied reader, somewhat unhealthy relationship dynamics, dubios morals (Dave is cheating on his wife… kinda), idiots in love, this whole serious is still very much 18+ only, mdni… did I mention angst? (As always, please tell if if I forgot something!)

dividers by @/saradika <3

find my full masterlist here!

Dave York isn’t a good man.

He isn’t a good man and he hasn’t been in a long time. He probably had been, once, when he first joined the military, when he still thought that he was doing the good thing, the right thing. Before he killed his first man. Now he’s living in shades of gray, where nothing is as simple as right or wrong.

He knows that what he’s doing is not right, but then again, the people that he’s killing aren’t good men either. He’s doing what he’s good at, what he has been trained to do for years. He doesn’t really know what else he’s good at. If there even is anything else.

He makes enough money to provide well for his daughters, the only thing in his life that he really cares about, the two girls that he loves more than anything. He loved their mother too, once, when they were both young. They were high school sweethearts, got married quickly simply because that was the thing that you did, only to realize later that adult life with each other wasn’t what either of them had imagined.

He’s never told Carol what exactly it is that he does, trying to protect her, which then led to her not understanding what was going on when he came home feeling cold and empty, a void inside of him that nothing could fill. They both grew distant from each other, not sharing any real connection anymore, just living aside one another. It works for him; their daughters are still the top priority for both of them, and they’re going to do everything in their power to give them the best possible childhood.

He suspects that Carol is seeing someone else, with the way she’s sometimes working late for no good reason, sliding out of the room to answer her phone at odd hours, the way he occasionally finds a position on their shared credit card bill that he doesn’t have an explanation for.

Dave knows that if he cared, he could easily find out every little detail about it. If he cared, he would probably be angry at how she’s not even making an effort to hide it. But the thing is - he just can’t bring himself to care. Has never done the same thing either, neither out of spite, nor because he had any desire for it.

Until he met her.

Sitting in a hotel bar, two seats over from him, when he’d just gotten a job done and figured that a quick drink might help him fall asleep easier. The whiskey’s burn in his throat didn’t ease the coldness that felt like it had permanently settled into his chest, not that he’d expected it to.

He had just decided to retreat to his room and get out of the city first thing in the morning when she sighed loudly and downed her own drink abruptly. He had noticed her when he walked in, the way he always clocked every person in any room he entered, and every possible exit route. He had absentmindedly noted that she was attractive, then dismissed the thought immediately. Probably here for a date, much younger than him, not paying him any mind. Not a threat, and therefore not important.

Not important at all, until he found himself turning to her and offering to buy her another drink before his mind had even caught up to his actions, learning that she had just been stood up for what would indeed have been a date, noticing the glint of interest in her gaze as she eyed him up and down, feeling a kind of longing that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Getting her to go up to his room with him had been easy. A mutual understanding of wanting each other, the desire to turn a shitty evening into something else, something that he doesn’t think either of them understood at the time.

Kissing her for the first time had been easy, too. Touching her, feeling her hot skin under his fingertips, her entire being so much softer, lighter than he was, felt easy. It felt right, like something that he hadn’t known he was missing right until that moment. He wanted to devour her, make her his, get her as close as he possibly could, before he inevitably had to give up this fleeting moment of something that suspiciously felt like happiness, and happiness never stayed within his reach for too long.

Sinking into her for the first time, hearing her gasp, her breath hot against his neck, felt even better. This was never gonna last, things this good never did. The way she clenched around him when he first slapped her ass and her whimper of “harder, please” turned him feral in a way that he hadn’t known before. How she gave up all control to him so willingly when his entire life had felt out of control for so long - it was addicting. He had known that he would come back for more again and again before he had even spilled himself into her for the first time.

He hadn’t planned for her to stay the night. Hadn’t planned for the way she kissed his lips in the morning, acting a little shy, like she was worried that he might send her away, but so clearly showing him that she wanted more of him, if that was what he wanted. And god damn, did he want to give her more, give her all that he had to offer, if only it wasn’t for the fact that any more of him would be enough to scare her away for good.

So, he didn’t give her more. Made it abundantly clear that he wasn’t looking for an emotional attachment, told her about his marriage, told her that they couldn’t be a thing. She was quick to hide her disappointment, but not quick enough for him not to notice. He half expected her to walk out then, that this wasn’t something she wanted, but instead she scribbled down her phone number, gave him a flirty smile and told him to call her “whenever”.

He knew he was being greedy, that he should have kept it a one time thing that he could keep a fond memory of, but of course he called her. Kept making stops in her town before flying back home, started spending weekends with her, the feeling of being around her too good to let go of.

He knows that it’s not right, that he’s probably taking advantage of her in some way. Of course he sees how badly she wants to please him, how she looks at him like he’s hung the moon for her. She has never denied him anything, no matter what kinds of depraved things he’s wanted to do with her. Hesitated, yes, but she has never said no. Never called red, never asked him to stop. Not when he first told her to call him “sir”, not when he spanked her for the first time, not when he’s edging her until she’s barely coherent, not when his fingers tightened around her throat for the first time. He could leave her a crying, shaking mess on the floor, and by the end of the night she’d still look up at him with those wide eyes and thank him.

It’s addictive and he can’t stop, always comes back for more when it feels like his whole life is spiraling out of his control again, when the darkness around him is threatening to swallow him whole. She’ll let him grab at her with rough hands, mold her body into any shape he wants, let him spit filth at her and let lose until he feels grounded again, until some of the darkness around him has dissipated.

Lately, work has been weighing on him even harder. Maybe he’s just getting older, maybe he has finally reached his limit, he’s not sure. With the whole week off, an incredibly rare occurrence, he knew who he wanted to spend it with. She had seemed stressed lately, like she needed a break too, so it was easy to convince himself that he was doing this for her. That it wasn’t just a selfish plan of his to spend more time with her.

Because somewhere along the way he has come to enjoy the time with her way too much. He enjoys lying in bed together, both of them catching their breaths, laughing about a stupid joke, the little tidbits from her life that she shares with him, the rare occasions when they’re walking around her neighborhood. The way she shyly grabbed his hand the first time, like she was scared that he would pull it away. The smile that she tried to but couldn’t hide when he didn’t.

This isn’t right and it’s not going to last, he’s well aware of that. As clear as he has been about his intentions, he still feels like he’s leading her on sometimes. But it feels too good to stop, to let go of one of the few comforts that he has in life.

The past few days with her have been heaven. He hadn’t anticipated how much he would enjoy spending so much uninterrupted time with her, how good it would feel to be around her the entire day, just watching her be herself and listening to her talking. And he has been talking as well, the feeling of speaking to someone without an ulterior motive, of someone listening to him just because they wanted to, more meaningful to him than he could put into words.

And all throughout, she had so willingly bent to his every wish, put all her trust into him, secure in the knowledge that in the end, he would take care of her.

So, Dave had let his guard down. Relaxed. Then the dream happened.

Last night, he had come home to find the girls slaughtered in their house, their small bodies soaked in blood. It’s a recurring nightmare, a fear that he can never entirely shake off, that haunts his subconscious every couple of weeks. He’s being thorough in his work, never leaving loose ends, keeping his private life concealed from the world that he moves in. The risk that anything could happen to them is as low as he can push it, but it’s not zero. Never zero, and it’s eating at him. Usually, he wakes up alone, gasping for breath, the sheets soaked with sweat. Him and Carol haven’t slept in the same bed for a long time.

Last night, it had been different. It had been different because she had been there beside him, shaking him awake and holding him in her arms until he calmed back down. It had also been different because she had been part of the dream. Just as dead, just as blood-soaked as his daughters.

She had been so sweet when he woke up, and it broke his heart. He wasn’t a good person. He was endangering everyone around him, he was endangering her by not being able to end this thing with her, and yet here she was, oblivious, comforting him.

He had always thought that eventually, he would be the one to break things off. But what if it was her? What if she figured out what a pathetic excuse of a man he was, that he couldn’t give her anything? Not a real relationship, and no future. He couldn’t let her in, couldn’t let her see who he was. What he did, what he was afraid of - and just how realistic those fears were.

He couldn’t even bear to picture the look on her face if he ever told her. The betrayal, the disgust, and eventually the fear. He couldn’t tell her. He wouldn’t. But how could he go on with this, knowing that every minute that he spends with her, he puts her in danger? Someone could find out. Someone could find her.

So does what he does best. Makes a plan. Suppresses his emotions until he’s sure of what to do. How to keep her safe. The logical part of his mind arrives at a solution pretty quickly: She’ll be safest if she stays away from him.

The emotional part of him, the part that he tries to keep shut down, doesn’t approve of this idea.

He has to tell her. Sooner rather than later, while the dream is still fresh in his memory, while he can still see her dead body when he closes his eyes.

Because he obviously knew about the dangers of being with him when he first laid eyes on her. When he kissed her for the first time, texted her for the first time, walked up to her apartment for the first time, when he booked this damn vacation because he’s unable to stay away from her. Unable to think straight when it comes to her. There’s a million reasons why he shouldn’t be with her and yet, he always finds a reason not to quit.

He tells himself that he’ll speak to her as soon as she gets up. Then once he’s done with his phone call. Maybe after they’ve had breakfast. At the end of the day, when they’re back in the room. He never does. He can’t.

The tension has become unbearable at that point. He knows that she’s confused, that she has questions that he doesn’t have answers for. His life feels out of control once again, so he tries gaining it back in the only way that he knows.

He half expected her to refuse him, but she seems just as relieved as he feels when he tells her to get down on her knees. Afterwards, he doesn’t feel better. Possibly hates himself even more.

He can tell that she’s off afterwards, and he’s battling himself to comfort her. This is not what he should be doing. None of this is what he should be doing.

Usually, she tucks herself into the space between his shoulder and his chest before he can even say a word. Not tonight. Tonight, she had her back turned to him before he had even switched off the lights, the “good night” that she normally breathes against his neck nothing more than a murmur from her side of the bed.

He stares at her backside in the darkness of the room, the way she seems to be curling in on herself, and he has no idea what to do. What they just did seemed like what she wanted, she had appeared eager, enthusiastic even, but maybe he read her wrong. Shit, he hadn’t even asked for her color once.

It’s quiet for a long time. He finally feels himself slowly drifting off to sleep, when her hears her sniffle. His eyes fly open again. It’s only minimal movements, but he can see her tremble ever so slightly. Fuck it, he thinks to himself as he reaches out towards her.

“Sweetheart? What’s wrong?”

You tense at his words, at the fact that he’s apparently awake. Has probably been the whole time. You try your hardest to make your voice sound normal, even though you know that it’s pointless.

“Nothing.”

It comes out even weaker than you had anticipated. You keep your back to him and feel him shuffling closer, his hand gently pulling at your shoulder to turn you towards him. “Baby. Talk to me.” His voice is soft in your ear and your heart is beating painfully in your chest. Baby. He has never called you Baby before. You feel a fresh wave of tears welling up in your eyes and shake your head but let him turn you around until you’re facing him.

His eyes search your face in the faint moonlight that’s filtering into the room and his hands cup your damp cheeks, his thumbs gently running over the skin under your eyes. The worry that’s so evident in his expression right now makes you want to break down. You’re exhausted, and confused, and you don’t understand the man in front of you and his contradictory behavior at all. So far you’ve been crying silently, but you can feel your bottom lip trembling as you try to suppress the sobs that are threatening to crawl up your throat.

“Did I- shit, was I too rough, did I hurt you? You didn’t say anything, but I never asked- I should’ve checked, I’m sorry, I-“

“You didn’t hurt me,” you whisper, cutting off his frantic rambling. He didn’t, not in the way that he’s referring to, anyway.

“Then what’s wrong?” he pleads, his hands still on your face, “Talk to me.” You inhale deeply. You really don’t want to have this conversation, but maybe it’s best like this. Rip the bandaid off, make it quick.

“Do you want to leave?”

Your voice breaks on the last word. He stares at you for a beat, his eyes wide. “Do I- What?” You shrug, unable to bring yourself to ask a second time. One of his hands slides down to your shoulder, holding you there. He doesn’t speak, his eyes boring into you.

You can’t hold his gaze any longer, your eyes dropping down to his chest instead. “You’ve been… weird. Today. I thought- I don’t fucking know, that I had done something or that you’ve-” a sob breaks free and interrupts you, “that you’ve had enough of me. That you don’t want to go on with… this.” You gesture helplessly between the two of you.

You’re certain that now you’ve said too much, that if he hadn’t had enough before, he definitely has now. You’re supposed to be fun, a distraction, not someone who’s clinging to him, but you’re feeling too exhausted, too raw to keep pretending like this thing between you doesn’t mean something. To you, at least.

“Fuck,” Dave mumbles, and you gaze up to see the anguish in his eyes before his arms envelop you and he presses you against his chest, speaking into your hair. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. You didn’t do anything wrong, I promise.”

It’s quiet for a minute as you’re inhaling his scent, trying to calm yourself down, when something occurs to you. “You didn’t say no,” you whisper into his chest, “you said that I didn’t do anything, but… you didn’t say that you don’t want to leave.” Dave freezes for just a second, searching your face, then he sighs heavily. He sounds defeated, you think.

“No, I don’t want to leave.”

taglist/people who have expressed interest in this: @joelscurls @reddedmiller @iamasaddie @guelyury @theywhowriteandknowthings @amanitacowboy @corazondebeskar @vabeachazn @mellymbee @bbyanarchist @untamedheart81 @missladym1981 @no1-nosesitter

let me know if you wanna be added, also no hard feelings if you wanna be removed! 🫶🏻

if you enjoyed this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging <3

series masterlist

#janas fics #the dress series #dave york #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #dave york x f!reader #dave york fanfiction #dave york fic #the equalizer 2 #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedrostories

[hana-no-seiiki]

This is 💗 anon, your anon is turned off. Please let me stay anonymous. Anywho, I, uh, need Jing Yuan to just use me any way he wants. He needs to spit in my mouth? My tongue is out waiting for it. He tells me jump, I ask how high. He wants to ruin me in front of his officers who aren't allowed to look at me? I'll do it

That or I power bottom Sampo. Make that submissive little shit worship me

ON A PLATTER

YANDERE! JING YUAN x AMAB! SOLDIER! READER

plus a little Sampo addition (not smut tho) to the end.

hope everyone that pulled for him succeeded!!

©️ art and story belongs to me, character goes to hoyoverse. please do not redistribute, repost, or share my art without credit or permission.

warnings: noncon. spoilers for the jarilo iv storyline. anal seggs.

status: unedited

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. I BEG OF YOU.

Many exalted the drowsy general’s prowess and leadership across the Xianzhou Alliance. Under his rule, the Luofu Flagship developed into a powerhouse that petrified those who heard its name. An infamous red line that warned against those that sought immortality. A blade that stuck right next your jugular in case you dare so moved in a direction they do not want you to.

This general was hundreds of years your junior but had already accomplished far more than you have. That fact was the second biggest slap to the face.

The actual, most damaging slap was his patronizing attitude towards you.

How were you supposed to rise above your station and prove your worth as a knight when he assigned you as his measly bodyguard? It wasn’t as if it was a quiet career really, the man faced dozens of attempts at his life on a daily. It was moreso the fact that he never let you do your job in the first place.

You spent decades just standing around while he swung his massive sword at intruders before you could even blink. Somehow, the lousy man moved faster when defending you rather than with his own duties. It was as if he was the body guard not you.

Not to mention the perverse stares. You weren’t dense. You could feel his bedroom eyes from miles away, taking off the heavy armor you wore to work and leaving you bare. You felt like a lamb, or a tender piece of steak on a platter — and he, the most insatiable man alive.

Hundreds of years training — wasted, spent on being a trophy for him.

If remaining close to the master that misused you for several decades was bad enough, having to interact with him was like hell on earth. He was a vice, a poison molded into the shape of a man. One that could kill you in a instant, but looked oh so tempting. Only the heavens knew how you were resisted his charms for so long.

“Yes, my general? How may I be of assistance?” Your voice and words held a cordial, cold tone to it. If your employer could not bring a semblance of professionalism into the table, then you would tenfold. If he always closed in the distance between you two, you in turn would step further away in your relationship or whatever one might call this thing between the two of you was.

Despite your frigid temperament, Jing Yuan does not flinch nor back down. His eyes trained on a star-chess piece as he twirled it around. “I think it is about time we quell any sort of . . . resentment you have towards me is all.”

You had to give it to him. Jing Yuan was one of the most attractive people you’ve ever bared witness to. At nights like these where his mane of a hair was let down, giving him a relaxed and playful look, it was hard not to stare. “Pardon, my general?”

“You have no need to give me false face, [Y/N]. I know of your doubts and qualms. You see me unfit to continue being General. That I am incompetent, lazy. That I do not let you do a job you feel you are overqualified to even be in.” He listed off before carefully placing the star-chess piece down. His eyes then abruptly flicked to you, creating eye-contact and in turn, chills.

You are rendered speechless. How had he known? You had been so terribly careful. Never spouting about what you thought. Never even writing down such things. You knew better than to show your treacherous feelings outside of the seat of divine foresight, much less within.

So how, how did this wretched man know?

The General smirked as your hands tightened around your spear. “Why so shy all of a sudden, little warrior? Do not worry. I have a feeling you’ll quite enjoy what I have in store for you.”

“Come here.” He patted his lap.

And you quickly realized what was happening here.

Your whole career was a waiting game really. Each day you could only pray that the General had enough self-control not to take you. It seemed that today was the day all restraints were taken off.

Now, you could only pray for things to be swiftly over, or heavens forbid for him to not enjoy it so that it won’t happen again in the future.

Jing Yuan had long planned for this moment. What order he’d take off each piece of armor, how he’d do it, and every step following that. He was more meticulous in the way he’d have his time with you than anything else in his life.

Never did he put this much effort into anything. Not his studies nor training. He had to give it to you. You were right. He didn’t fully devote himself into playing General. How could he when he was already fully devoting himself to you?

“Perhaps little warrior was a wrong title for me to give you. With how drenched these are, wouldn’t little whore be better, hm?” Your skin, no matter what imperfections it may have, looked immaculate to his eyes. It was something Jing Yuan daydreamed about for hours on end and you did not disappoint. He should have done this sooner, he thought. Too bad it had to take a certain trigger for all his control to diminish.

His wasted no time when grabbing your cock. It was semi soft, though you didn’t want him this way your hormones said otherwise. He doesn’t falter for one second even after knowing so, predicting that its state would change once he began stimulating it. “My General, please — ngh — cease this at one.”

You legs kept moving around, either in pleasure or in a last ditch attempt at resisting, you didn’t know. Your body was moving on sheer instinct. Flight or fight mixing with euphoria. Fear and relief clashing against one another. It had been months since you last touched yourself. As a being close to a thousand years of age, your libido had long fizzled out. Or so you thought.

“You really are in need of a wake up call.”

Jing Yuan remained silent for the couple of minutes it took you to finally ejaculate. As the thick white liquid left your member, so did the remaining will to resist.

“I am your ruler.”

Jing Yuan suddenly stood up, causing you to fall forward unto his desk. Your chrysanthemum presented itself for him.

“My word is law.”

His left hands slid from your lower back to your shoulder as his right aligned his cock. You dare not look back to witness his size.

You hear the sound of a bottle being opened and of squelching while Jing Yuan covered himself in lubricant. He almost spends an entire minute just touching himself to your naked back. A sight he thought would only remain a mirage, a phantasm he will never see come to light.

“My desire will be met.”

But alas, you are here. Though he could easily reach climax just masturbating to this magnificent view, a taste was what this entire endeavor’s reason for occurring.

“And long have I waited for this moment to have you in my hands, Senior.”

He enters. Not gentle in the slightest. And to both your surprise he cums right there, not even lasting a second within you. Regardless of the surprise and sudden intrusion, you do not miss the way he addressed you.

A flood of memories fills your mind. “Xiao Yuan . . ?”

You do not get to think too much about it however, as Jing Yuan quickly regained his erection and began fucking your hole. Groaning loudly at your tightness which came as a result of your surprise. He picks you up by your arms and pressed your back to his chest.

“You finally remembered me, have you? But alas, catching up will have to wait. We have an audience waiting for the real show to begin.” He tilted his head away and looked beyond your form.

The guards — those who thought were your friends — that were stationed there weren’t dismissed. They were watching the whole time you were being jerked off and reached climax. Their eyes were glued to how Jing Yuan’s cock would disappear into your little hole, ears peeled to the lewd sounds of squelching, slapping and mewling, you bet that behind those helmets they were drooling over your misery.

But you didn’t feel an inch of anger at them at all, only at the man that forced you into this wicked situation in the first place.

“You lunatic—“ You yelled, but you do not move away, thrash or form any attempts at escape.

“Lunatic? No no, just authoritarian. A leader needs to assert himself in the face of . . . those who daringly gaze at my belonging. All while they’re stripped bare for me to partake in. If anything those lowly soldiers are the perverts are they not?” He paused from his thrusts, and you are ashamed to know that you made a small whine of disappointment at his lack of movement. He chuckled at your response before his face turned cold.

Golden eyes dripped in apathy as he commanded to everyone else in the room. “Helmets off.”

“Yes, general!” They all nodded in unison. No hesitation whatsoever.

“Look straight into their eyes, little warrior.” But who were you to judge when all you do to his commands were to follow blindly as well? You faced your comrades, you’re almost thankful for your arousal clouding your brain and stopping it from feeling too much shame and disgust. They stare right back. Eyes burning with lust and excitement.

Once he is assured of your eye-contact, Jing Yuan began pounding your ass again, this time he was somehow much more harsh than he was at the beginning. “Ngh — !”

“See all of them? These people would kill to be in my place right now. They’d beg for just a drop of your essence. And here you are, taking my cock like the good little warrior you are. Milking me for all I’m worth. Aren’t you greedy for me? Hahaha!” It doesn’t take Jing Yuan long to get jealous. Just several seconds later he shoves you forward and back unto his desk, forcing you to face somewhere else and your attention back to only the way his cock rearranged your insides and hiding the way your hole took him. His hand running itself through your hair, tugging once or twice every minute.

He leaned forward, thus allowing his voice to reach your ears and your ears alone, and his member to reach even further inside you. “Want more of my cum, [Y/N]? Tell me. Order me.”

“Give me - ah - more of your cum, you - ah - bastard!” You screamed, grabbing ahold of one of his scrolls and unintentionally breaking via the strength of your grip.

Your wish is his command.

Jing Yuan doesn’t slow down or stop as his cum filled you up. He wanted to make sure every corner of your hole was covered with him, that every spurt of his seed would decorate your rectum and make it its home.

“Satisfied with your general now, soldier?” He asked, his hips now slowly stuttered to a stop.

You do not reply, only panting in exhaustion. He does not part with you for a moment when he gave his command.

“Qingzu. Send this recording to Tingyun, then execute the rest.”

Your shock and terror overshadowed the doom of all your friends.

“Yes, my General.”

You only realized the weight of it all when he turned you around for an embrace. His genital already ‘recovering’ and almost ready for another round.

“How would you like their eyes served to you, hm? In preserve jars . . .

Or on a platter?”

Inside the void of space. Of the stars, the planets. The cradle of creation and dreams. You hear the sly voice of a man you once knew.

“What a pervert you are, reading a smutty story of that General from Xianzhou.”

What was his name again? Sam . . . Samuel . . . ?

“Sooo ~ did you enjoy it? Did you have fun?”

Sampo. Sampo Koski.

“ . . . What ?”

Yes, Sampo, your fellow actor. How could you forget? The support to your lead. The guy who always had your back.

“Oh my, you seem a little disoriented.“

In the cold embrace of the void, Sampo’s hands almost felt hot when he placed it upon your cheeks.

“Not to worry, dear friend! I’ll fix you right back up again. Can’t have our main actor ill-prepared for their next show, do we?”

And the curtain opens, revealing a sea of white.

[ TRANSLATION ]

chrysanthemum - lit. it’s a pretty flower ya’ll. slang wise it means anus.

xiao - lit. little. it’s a chinese diminutive, basically added to the name to make it sound cute. like little yun or little [y/n].

©️ hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2023

#yandere #yandere jing yuan #yandere hsr #yandere smut #yandere honkai star rail #yandere x reader #yandere x reader smut #yandere jing yuan smut #jing yuan smut #jingyuan #yandere jingyuan #yandere star rail #star rail #jing yuan x reader #jingyuan x reader #yandere x you #sampo #sampo x reader #yandere sampo x reader

[hymnism]

release the list

(i feel like i should mention these are all games ive personally played so if any of these make you go "why isn't [GAME] on here it's probably cuz i haven't played it. anyway)

(obligatory mention to hades/disco elysium/omori since they're some of my favorite games but im sure everyone already knows about them. they are lovely games and you should play them 👍)

darkest dungeon ($25) - turn based roguelike where you recruit mercenaries and send them on dungeon explorations and make sure they don't die of stress or starvation alongside the regular monster attacks. notoriously difficult. imagine bloodborne but turn based

ftl: faster than light ($10)- real time roguelike where you control a small crew and pilot a spaceship on the run from a rebel fleet. manage power and weapons on your own ship while targeting critical systems on the enemy

loop hero ($15)- a roguelike where your character will automatically walk in a loop while you use cards to add terrain with different effects such as spawning monsters to give you loot or increasing your healing. very unique with a beautiful pixel artstyle and banger soundtrack

moonlighter ($20)- a roguelike rpg where you go dungeon diving and try to bring back as much loot as you can so that you can sell it in your shop

shadows of doubt ($20)- early access. a first person sandbox detective simulator where each case is procedurally generated. randomly generates a town with npcs that all have names and addresses and relationships. put together clues from a crime scene and try to catch a killer before they strike again. work odd jobs between cases to keep yourself fed and housed

ultrakill ($25) fast paced first person shooter with a style system ala devil may cry. you play as a robot fighting through the layers of hell. mankind is dead. blood is fuel. hell is full

crypt of the necrodancer ($15)- a rhythm based roguelike dungeon crawler where you and your enemies are only allowed to move on beat. banger soundtrack goes without saying

everhood ($10)- a rhythm based rpg where you play as a red doll who had their arm stolen and is trying to get it back. battles involve moving between 5 lanes to avoid enemy attacks. if you like undertale you'll like this

spiritfarer ($30)- management and adventure game where you play as a spiritfarer who needs to care for spirits on her boat before leading them into the afterlife. incredibly charming and touching game. you will cry

let's school ($20)- management sim where you build and manage a school and help students graduate by setting up different courses. addicting and has a very cute artstyle

let's build a zoo ($20)- management sim where you. well where you build a zoo. a very silly game that includes a morality system where you can choose to be eco friendly and help repopulate endangered species or you can exploit your animals for their meat and produce. also has an animal splicing mechanic. haven't you ever wanted to make a giraffe with a duck head

the wandering village ($25)- early access. a city builder with the twist that you live on the back of a giant wandering beast named onbu. you help care for onbu as he wanders though different biomes that force you to adjust your resource production as some things become unavailable (such as water in a desert)

frostpunk ($30) a survival city builder where you build around a central core and try to prevent everyone from freezing to death in progressively colder temperatures

monster sanctuary ($20)- a metroidvania style creature collector with a unique combo meter that will continue to build and increase your damage based on the number of "hits" you can perform (healing buffs and shields also count as hits) and each monster has different skill trees that you can upgrade and customize

coral island ($30)- farming life sim with a unique underwater area where you can live and farm and raise aquatic plants and animals. you work to help restore the island after and oil spill ruined the surrounding ocean. i should mention that although this game is technically not in early access it is still unfinished and missing large chunks of gameplay/interactions/story. however there is still a healthy amount of content and is still a fun game as it is

apico ($20)- a beekeeping sim where you keep bees to make and sell honey while also breeding and releasing them to help restore their numbers in the wild

spirittea ($20)- a management and life sim where you manage a bathhouse for ghosts and help the townsfolk who think they're haunted (they're right). basically a cross between stardew valley and spirited away

cloud meadow ($20)- early access. this is a porn game ⚠️ a farming sim where instead of regular animals you have anthro characters and you can breed them either yourself or with each other and have them help in combat or on your farm. very cute artstyle and amazing animation work

#looking for a new game ask sunny if their recommendation is a roguelike or management sim i laugh and say it's a good game sir look inside #it's a roguelike #asks #game recs

[pynkgothicka]

Dark! Arkham Knight! Jason Todd x Fem! Reader

a/n: Ive finally created a way to do personal work and requests at the same time!! My hiatus is over as now I’m going to be pumping works out more often!!

Tags/Warnings: NONCON, breeding, creampies, VIOLENCE AGAINST READER, Yelling, stalking, Cocky Mista Todd

A friendly reminder that all my works are dark fanfiction! Please if you do not like that do not read them! This is your final warning before hitting the keep reading button!!

🐉

Something wasn't right.

The Arkham Knight had been chasing you for what seemed like ages. He was so determined to get you, and you had no clue why. You should’ve known to leave whenever you were told to, but you had to be stupid and missed the buses. If only you learned from your mistakes, you wouldn't be where you are now, cornered in an alleyway with this militarized robot on your tail.

He seemed closer than ever now, finally in view. The only source of light being his helmet. He stopped his chase and slowed down to a slow walk, the sound of his boots hitting the ground with every step he took. A taunt nonetheless. You backed closer into the wall trying to disappear. His steps stopped, and leather touched your face forcing your head up. You still kept your eyes shut, not wanting to face the man who's been hunting you for game. 

"Look at how scared you are… You scared I'm gonna hurt you?" His robotic voice echoed in your ear. All you could do is nod. "Now why would you think that?" His gloved hand trailed lower, fingers grazing your collarbone. One dug its way in, feeling your bone, as if some kind of awkward massage. 

“Please, dont hurt me…” You begged out, finally opening your eyes to look at just how close he was to you. The automated voice within his headpiece, his heavy breathing echoing all around you. Just another way his mere presence taunted you.

“Scarecrow certainly was right, you're one of the pretty ones, it's sad that all that is going to waste. Just for a pitiful job.” That's when you felt it, the barrel of a gun right in your abdomen. The metal was cold, yet stung. 

You were going to die here, and no one would even recall or remember you.

He seemed hesitant, to say he's killed people all night. You couldn't comprehend it, why isn't he getting it over with?

“I don't have to kill you though, now do I? Scarecrow just wants you gone, he never said ``indefinitely dead.” He looked off to the side as if he was weighing his options. “ We can't have anything happen to the cloudburst tonight, and you're one of the few people who worked on it.” His gun slowly moved away, the sting of the cold metal disappearing.

“You're not going to kill me…?”

“Nope, it seems as if you've gotten the better of me. However, I do want to have a bit of fun first.” 

He pushed you further into the wall, your flimsy clothes getting torn off in the process. He was trying to get everything off as quickly as possible. 

 You cried out as he popped off your bra, your chest flying out. He pinched at them laughing when you squealed out. 

 He pulled down his military pants along with his boxers, cock popping out. He was leaking pre. “This is what a night of stress and muder does to you. And just the sight of you has me like this, now go ahead and touch it.” You shook your head as he finally let go of you.

“N-NO I don't want to.” You choked on your own tears.

“You don't want to?! Oh sweetheart you just don't know do you?”

The Knight grabbed at your hair and banged your head against the wall. You screamed out in pain collapsing to the ground, head in hands. You touched your head, the tips of your fingers coming back red. It wasn't anything life threatening but was still there

 “I when I tell you to d something, you better fucking do it! You hear me!?!” He growled at you hysterically.

“Yes! Yes…” You cried out. He laughed at you stroking his cock, precum leaking on your bruised body.

“This is just turning me on even more! Now sweetheart, get back to it.” You reluctantly grabbed at his girth stroking him, his juices coating your fingers. He groaned out, helmet glowing in the night. His hand fell on top of your own speeding up your pace

“That's it, get it all nice and wet. In a minute this is going straight inside those sweet little guts of yours, I hope you're not a virgin… who am I kidding if I just happen to take that too and kill Batman, god this would be the most awesome night don't cha think?” You kept silent, tears falling down your face even more.

He was right.

You were a virgin.

The Knight grabbed you by your hair once again and pulled you back up, forcing your legs to wrap around his waist. “And would you look at that, you're already dripping!” he dug his fingers inside you, scooping out your juices. He then smeared them all over your face, a mixture of cum and tears painting you.

“I don't think you’d mind it if I Slipped in real quick?” He grabbed the base of his cock, rubbing the head in between your folds. The noise it made disgusted you, why were you so aroused with how he was treating you? Are you the monster here?

He bottomed out inside you, your head falling back in a breathy gasp. He was huge, and you could feel him splitting you apart.

But he didnt care.

He instantly got to work bouncing you on his cock, nothing else mattering. His gloves holding you closer to him by your back. Your walls clamped down on him in a instant, The Knight let out a breathy moan pushing you into the wall in a sex filled frenzy. 

It was almost passionate if he didn't beat you up beforehand,breaking your walls down where you would be susceptible to him.

“Shit I’m about to cum so deep inside those guts, fucking-”He paused chasing his high before stopping and you knew instantly what happened as a new found warmth filled you. You fell slumped against his shoulder. “Look at that, just bred you baby…”

“No… I dont… I cant-” He shushed you quickly,hitting a button on the side of his mask. It came up in a set of gears and mechanics. He leaned in kissing you passionately. 

“Shit, I’m going to have to keep you for sure… You cant be running around while I kill that freak of nature huh?”

#dark writing #yandere x reader #fem reader #jason todd x reader #tw stalking #tw violence #mature theme #tw yandere #tw dark content #yandere #yandere blog #tw sa #dc smut #dc batman #dark batman #detective comics #dark jason todd #jason todd #arkham knight #dc comics #tw noncon

[missamyrisa2]

15 questions for 15 friends:

Thanks for thinking of me for these questions, @lady-featherquill ~ this is like mmmmh a certain kind of tingle blushhh tickle for me to be called on~

Were you named after anyone?: Yess I was named after Burl Ives, but you wouldn't know it because I spell and pronounce my name differently~

When was the last time you cried?: I made the mistake of thinking about The Lion King a few hours ago~

Do you have kids?: I make kids all the time. Like crying over the lion king because I randomly was thinking about how real to life the animation was of Simba pulling on Mufasa's ear and holygodddddd he was trying to wake his dad up whyyyyyyy are animators so supremely great at heartsqueezing~~~ I'm just kidding. That was a kid.

What sports do you play/have you played?: all of them I think~ I live by the fake it until you make it mindset and I'm still figuring out the latter part of that. But I did study pickleball thoroughly under its venerable founder, The Earl of Pickle

Do you use sarcasm?: William Shakesman said that's the lowest form of brevity so I try to avoid it whenever possible, also I'm horrendously bad at it to where I sound completely sincere and this has resulted in one too many punches to the face because, surprisingly if you poorly sarcastically announce you'd really love to be just hit in the face there are a LOT of people who are all too eager to jump in~

What is the first thing you notice about people?: That they're always trying to figure out if I hate them because I had a fairly consistent RBF crossed with an inclination to be mysterious. Through online interactions I first take note of their comma frequency because that says so much about a person's Oxford-related preferences.

What's your eye color?: Blue or green or grey depending which type of light you shove in my face, followed by whatever my eyelid is because moonlight makes me squint

Scary movies or happy endings?: I like the ones where nothing is really resolved and the story just sort of stops because everyone gave up and it was probably lunchtime so f*ck it~

Any talents?: I can do a hair flip like nobody's business, which is to say no one should ever be in the business of doing such hair flips because I've knocked over more cups and hit my head on more things than anyone should do in five lifetimes.

Where were you born?: I'm fairly certain I've always been, because whenever I attempt to find the record of my birth Mr. Tumnus plays an enchanting tune and I wake up in a cold room.

What are your hobbies?: arguing on the Internet and street corners why Fullmetal Alchemist 2003 is better than Brotherhood. I took up the hobby after some guy stole my bicycle which was an outrage, but that was his hobby and he imparted the wisdom which set me on my path which is that a hobby is something that makes you completely miserable and spreads that misery onto anyone unfortunate enough to share your space.

Do you have any pets?: No, no one ever wants to pet me and it's probably because of the below answer

How tall are you?: 6'2

Favorite subject in school?: History. Not so much for the subject matter but because memorizing facts comes obscenely easy to me and I loved writing excessively lengthy essays which went nowhere and were loaded with as many funny words as I could muster like trying to relate an unrelated event to the future of filibustering.

Dream job?: Tending a lighthouse so I could make giant shadowpuppets over the water and make alligator mouths eat the ships.

Join in and pass it on if you can. Don't feel obligated!

@witchy-giggles @atomiccollectorwitch @crystalstarlight4657 @opossumgirltongue @adventuresofmelody @greenticklerdreams @juviisworld @dusktexanler @polsj103 @fuzzypilled @androgynousangeldreamland @daisylovestickles @yourgothgfswitch @magicaltickles @giggliestgirl

[luckybitchsstuff]

hi! i’d like to request an erling haaland imagine in which the reader has surgery (nothing major, like an appendectomy) and erling takes care of her ❤️

The operation - Erling Haaland

Hiii thank you for requesting I appreciate it a lot

DISCLAIMER I haven’t wrote for a bit so if I mess it up a bit I’m sorry

Pairing - Erling Haaland x female reader

Warnings!! - mentions of an operation and anesthesia and just Erling being a cutie

Y/N POV

"Babe, you'll be fine, trust me," Erling said in a soft voice as I was getting into my blue gown to get ready for my operation as I had damaged my hand a few days ago

"I'm just scared. You know how I feel about hospitals; I don't like them!" Erling sympathetically looked at me. " I'll be here when you wake up, I promise, okay?" | nodded at him instead of giving an actual reply

My nurse then walks into my room.

"How are you feeling?" | looked up at her as she checked my vitals and things like that. I wasn't paying enough attention to see fully

"As ready as I'll ever be." I gave her a small smile. " okay, so I'm going to give you some anesthesia. It isn't weak enough to the point you will wake up, but it isn't strong enough to last for multiple hours. The operation should only be around 1 to 2 hours." She said while focusing on the iv line

" I'm going to insert the anesthesia now so that you will be asleep in the next 5 minutes." | looked up the where she was injecting the anesthesia and watched it run down the tube

"I'll be here when you wake up, okay?"

Erling said in a sweet voice as he rubbed the hand he was holding

"Okay, thank you for being here. Love you." | looked up to him with hooded eyes as mine started to drop from the anesthesia kicking in. "I love you too."

And that was the last few words I heard come out of his mouth before the anesthesia entirely took over

My eyes slowly started to flutter open, and at first, I was unsure of where I was, but as I finally regained my senses, I realized I was in the hospital. I could feel someone holding my hand. I turned my head to the right slowly and saw Erling sitting, holding my hand while he was scrolling through his phone, oblivious to the fact I was awake

"What you looking at?" Erling whipped his head up to look at you and smiled as he saw you were awake. "Just scrolling through Instagram; how are you feeling?"

"Not too bad, just a little sore." | said, sending a small smile. Just as I was about to continue the conversation, a nurse entered the room. "How are you feeling?" She said with a bright smile on her face

"Not too bad, just tired, and my hand is a little sore, but not bad." She gave you a quick look before handing you some medication. *You should be able to leave in the next hour. We have to monitor you for 30 minutes to ensure the pain goes down then you are free to go." She smiled as she turned to leave the room after handing me some water for my tablets

"Finally home sweet home." | said as I stepped into the front door of my and Erling's house. I went to grab my bag to carry it up the stairs, but before I could, Erling swooped in to grab it before me. You are not doing anything. Go and sit on the sofa, and I will bring you some snacks and water." I gave him a confused look, and he just shook his shoulders and took my bags up the stairs to our bedroom

The night I stayed the same. He was doing everything for me. I liked it, but I also hated not walking to the kitchen to get my drink. I'm not going to complain as it is rare we are ever just us two anymore since he's always away playing games, and I also have my job, so I can't always go with him, but moments like these are amazing

"Erling, I'm tired I'm going to go to bed. I said while keeping my head placed on his shoulder. "Okay, pass me the remote let me turn off the tv, babe." I grabbed the remote and did it myself and stood up to walk myself up the stairs to bed, but as I started walking away, I felt him pick me up bridal style. "what did I say I told you not to do anything." He said as he was walking up the stairs. *I know. I'm sorry I forgot." He shocks his head and lets out a little laugh

He placed me down on the side of the bed before bringing me my pajamas and helping me with my pants and shirt, as I could not use my hand. After I got changed, I lay under the bed covers, then he joined, and I snuggled up to him, wrapping my arms around his neck and facing him.

"thank you for looking after me." | said, looking at him. "Don't thank me. That's what I'm here to do, baby, and I would rather be helping you than doing anything else."

One yawned as I slowly started to drift off, saying a quiet. "I love you." As I finally started to shut down, I heard him say.

"I love you too so much.”

———————————————————

Thank you for whoever requested and I apologize if this wasn’t exactly what you wanted but I tried and if you guys could give me tips on writing I don’t mind as I’m trying to improve thanks

#erling haaland #erling x reader #erling haaland imagine #football imagine #football #fanfiction #first post #request #erling haaland smut #soccer

[manicpixiedreamcurl]

The More You Give ❧ (Part IV)

Pairing | Eddie x reader

Warnings | 18+ minors and blank blogs don’t interact, bullying, once again Eddie flirts with bullies, sex shaming, discussions of anxiety, dom!eddie increasingly present, fingers in mouths and other places, oral (f and m receiving), first time blow job, cum eating (a theme of this story now as much as shyness, apparently). New named characters, hopefully it’s clear who’s important and who’s not.

Word count | ~11,700

A/N | I’m late! It’s late. Thank you for the patience and the very encouraging messages. It’s wonderful to hear that people are enjoying this fic. 

Taglist

Previous Chapter

❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦

Your fingers twist and pull at your scrunchie, turning the stretchy patterned cotton around your wrist. You think about May’s face; one you know better than anyone else’s. Long eyelashes, pink smile; friendly and warm. You can keep her that way if you just say everything right. 

Eddie is kind to me, you imagine yourself explaining. I like him and I want you to give him a chance. 

You hum as you cross the street, not entirely happy with how that sounds.

Eddie is kind to me. That works. I think it would be really nice if you’d speak to him, so you could see how wonderful he is.

You chew your lip. You are getting ahead of yourself. Even if, by some miracle, you can explain properly, even if May accepts that Eddie is important to you now, she still won’t ever want to be seen with him. May likes being popular, and people hate Eddie Munson. 

It doesn’t matter that he’s the Eddie who made you a mixtape after one date, Eddie who doesn’t mind speaking when you can’t, Eddie who holds your hand and kisses you sweet. It doesn't matter because he is Eddie Munson. The way he dresses, the music he listens to, where he lives, the game he plays, how he makes money, who his parents were. He’s like a ticked list of everything people don’t want to understand. 

To think, now, that you ever let yourself believe he was anything other than lovely makes you ache with regret. You think of that word you found in a Welsh poem; hiraeth, like nostalgia, like homesickness. A sinking feeling, the realisation that you should have followed through every time you thought that people might be wrong about him. 

You saw him hold doors open, take Jeff under his wing, play his guitar exactly the way he likes even in the face of relentless mocking. You knew. Knew he was funny, knew he was interesting, knew he was kind. Knew that, somehow, life would be better if you just spoke to him.

What would you be like, now, if you had?

For a second, you’re sure you must be thinking about him too hard, because you can hear the howl of the music that plays loud from his van. But there he is, pulling up at the corner, looking both ways until he spots you and waves wildly like you might not recognise him otherwise. The tyres of Eddie’s van screech as he makes the turn, again when he halts next to you on the sidewalk. “Thought I’d lost you,” Eddie laughs, leaning over to open the passenger door for you. “Hop in, sweetheart.” 

Eddie waits for you to climb up into his van to press a chaste hello kiss to your lips, so casual and domestic it makes that longing to have had him earlier worse. He watches you buckle your seat belt and get yourself comfy with an excited grin, clearly waiting until he has your full concentration to say what he desperately wants to say. 

Eddie peels off from the sidewalk the second you are settled and looking at him expectantly. 

"Guess who met your Dad this morning!” 

You blink. “You went to my house?��

“Of course,” he says matter of factly, peeling away from the sidewalk. “Why do you think I’m here? I’m gonna be driving you to school from now on.” You almost fight the smile, but let it show when Eddie continues. “At first he thought I was there to mow the lawn? Had me all the way to the garage before I realised. My guess was he wanted an expert opinion on the quality of the grass.” Eddie grins conspiratorially, laughing at his own joke. “But I explained that I was there to pick up his beautiful daughter. Thought he was going to attack me with the weed whacker.”

You shake your head, giggling at the image of your cardigan clad, slipper wearing father wielding such a weapon against Eddie. You look him over, giving yourself a moment to gaze at his handsome profile. “But you’re miraculously unharmed.” 

“Oh yeah, it was no problem. Just turned on the signature Munson charm, you know?” He gives you a dimpled smile. “Then he told me you’d left early to catch the bus so I had to abandon my new best friend and speed on over to find you.” 

You like him especially like this. The way he weaves fantasy with the truth so easily, refusing to let reality get in the way of a good tale. He’s a better storyteller than anyone you’ve ever met, so much so that you don’t know exactly how much of this account is real. You won’t know unless you ask your Dad. 

You probably won’t. Eddie’s version is better. 

You watch his adorned hands while he drives, steady on the steering wheel. Your gaze drifts up his lithe arms to his face, bathed in Summer light. His dark hair is shades lighter like this, flyaways made golden by the sun. “Eddie?” He hums a questioning tone, eyes on the road while yours are fixed on him. “Are you really going to drive me every day?”

“Well, yeah. I thought I would.”

“You won’t…miss a day?” You’re not trying to dissuade him, but one thing you have known about Eddie for years is that he is prone to arrive late, if he makes it to school at all. 

“Princess, if there comes a morning that I am not ready and waiting for you with this, your carriage, know that I will have been slain by dragons.”

You are so desperately fond of him. “Really?”

“Nothing but talons and fiery breath will keep me from your door. I promise.”

The van slows to a stop, but you’re too occupied by him to question it. Eddie looks serious, even as he makes such a whimsical promise, and you know he wants you to believe him. Heart fluttering, you lean over to kiss his soft cheek, leaving a little spot of pink gloss on his skin that you wipe away with your thumb.

“Thank you, Eddie.” You grab his hand and bring your clasped fingers to rest on your knee, cherishing the warmth of him, the weight and feel of him. You sigh, chest sore at the loss of all the times you should have held this hand before. Your fingers find the smallest of his rings, this one is less chunky than those on his left hand. The stone at the centre is dark, flecked with grey. Eddie lets you twist it smoothly, run the pad of your first finger along the textured metal. When you look up from his hand, Eddie is already watching you. You give him what must be a sad smile. "I wish-"

“I think I speak for all of us-” You jump at the voice along with the door at the back of his van opening. Feeling caught in an intimate moment, you fight the urge to drop Eddie’s hand, instead squeezing it tight to get out the sudden nerves. Into the van climbs three boys. Eddie’s friends; including Jeff, who waves at you while the youngest, dressed in a sleeveless flannel, establishes his disbelief at your presence. “-when I say I did not think for one second you were serious about getting a girlfriend.”

Your face heats, the word fluttering around your brain like a swallow diving and gliding in Spring; girlfriend, girlfriend, girlfriend.

You don't chance a look at Eddie, even though you see him glance at you in your periphery. You can't, not when the desperation would read so clearly on your face the second you get a real glimpse of him. 

You watch the three boys shuffle and sit together along the bench seat in the back. Arms and legs squish together, and soon elbows appear to try and gain ground. Protesting grunts and curses sound even as Eddie starts the van.

When Jeff widens his legs in the middle, forcing one boy almost off the end and another to slam into the door at his side, a final frustrated groan sounds. “You know, Monday's are supposed to be my day riding shotgun."

“If you’ve got a problem, Gareth, I'm sure your Mommy would let you ride in the front every day of the week.” 

“I-” You rub the gem of Eddie’s ring with your thumb in a circle. “I’m sorry I took your seat.”

Gareth’s eyes seem to light up as if he’s spied an opportunity. “Well, you didn’t exactly take my seat. It was given away before he even picked you up,”

“Gareth-” Eddie starts, a warning sound.

“If you think for one second,” Gareth says, voice matching Eddie’s unique tone almost to a point. “That a woman like that is sitting anywhere but by my side you’ve lost your God damn minds.”

The three of them giggle like real schoolboys until Eddie’s head snaps around like a cat locating its prey, silencing them in an instant. Something about the tension in his jaw, the intensity of his eyes makes you feel warm between your legs. It also makes a long quiet, mischievous part of you want to push him a little bit. 

“When- when was this exactly?”

Four sets of eyes turn to you; one incredulous, the other three shifty like they’re weighing up the consequences of being the first to speak.

“Friday,” the final boy says, eyes darting to Eddie whose face is swiftly turning pink. “He said you were going on a date, that he might be driving you after. Never seen him so excited. And hey, looks like it went well, Eds?”

“You know something crazy?” Eddie grits. “I could've sworn I just heard Matthew’s voice. But that's impossible, because he’s dead to me.”

“Eddie!” You chide, watching his sweet, angry face, his lips set in an unintentional pout. This time, the kiss you press to his cheek is long, and in full view of his friends. Your heart pounds as you do it, aware of their eyes right on you, but it's entirely worth it to see Eddie’s pink cheeks darken further. You tap your feet a little, your own face heating while you rub the back of his hand with your thumb. “I was excited on Friday, too.”

You expect he might glare at his friends again when a chorus of ooh’s starts up behind you, but instead Eddie settles back into his seat, trying and failing to fight a happy grin, his dimples appearing even as his eyebrows are pulling together in an attempt at keeping up his anger. He squeezes your hand tight before he lets go to make a turn, then reaches out again immediately to take your palm back in his. 

“Hey, have you done any of the Chemistry homework?” Jeff asks, head appearing in the front, hiding Eddie from you. 

“Yes,” you nod, remembering the brutal questions you’d spent the rest of your Sunday on after returning from town with Heather. “In between bouts of tears.”

“Jesus. I know. Do you remember ever being taught anything about retention factors?” 

You shake your head, humming the negative. “We weren’t.”

“What does Mr Brown get from that? I mean I thought he wanted us to say, hey, you old bastard, you never fucking taught us this. But literally last week Jessie told him we hadn't learned molecular orbitals when it was on the test, and she got detention.”

“Note to self. Don’t do AP Chemistry.”

“I really don’t think that’s a choice you’ll have available to you, Gareth.”

“Hey! I got a B+ on the last assignment-”

“I’m your lab partner!” Matthew cries, smacking his friend on the shoulder. “I wrote the whole thing!” 

You watch them sitting uncomfortably together on the small back seat, arguing from either side of Jeff, whose stone faced grimace makes you giggle. When you turn back, Eddie is stopped at the lights and gazing at you, looking proud. 

You shrug bashfully, because talking to Jeff isn't so impressive. It's always been easier to speak to people who understand what it’s like to lose your words. 

You feel eyes on you when you jump from Eddie’s van in the school parking lot, uncomfortable prickles crawling up your neck. When you catch the eyes of two cheerleaders you rarely speak to despite sitting with them every day, you see their lips moving, smiles turning, and hear your heartbeat in your ears. 

Then it’s just Eddie, eyes level with yours, close enough you could count the long dark eyelashes that frame them. “You alright?”

You nod, giving him a brave smile. Your fingers twitch, wanting his hand again. “Okay. I have to, uh, meet somebody. But I can leave you with the guys, right?”

You nod again, wanting to tell Eddie that you’ve always liked Jeff, that you think you could like Gareth and Matthew, too. Suddenly you’re thinking about your own friends, and how hard it will be to explain this arrival on top of your dates with Eddie over the weekend. A part of you wants to beg him to get back in his van with you. You could drive to his trailer, hole up in the room that smells like him and hide in his arms. 

Another part wants to grab his face and kiss him in front of anyone who might be watching, scream at anyone who might hear that you've been waiting for this joy for what feels like your whole life. 

But you are stuck here, in an uncomfortable place between the two. 

“Eddie, will you-” You swallow, pressing the toe of your shoe into the tarmac.

“Just tell me what you need, sweet thing. I’ll do it.”

You could cry at how earnest he sounds, how much he means it. Instead you step forward and press your face to his shoulder, wrap your arms around his lithe waist in a hug. You hope he knows you want to give him more, that you’re trying for him. When Eddie’s hands come round your shoulders, giving your body a tight squeeze, you’re sure he does.

“Hey, you wanna come to my place after school?” You nod into his shoulder, sighing happily at the thought of time spent with Eddie removed from pestering eyes. When you force yourself from him, he gives you a final once over. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Mm.”

As Eddie walks away, you feel a bump on your shoulder and turn to find Jeff grinning at you. He raises an eyebrow and you find yourself covering your face and giggling. “Stop!”

“I didn’t say anything!” He bumps your shoulder again while you walk to the door, past intent stares and whispering mouths. You grab the hem of your skirt, crumpling the fabric in your fist. Next to you Gareth and Matthew are talking about a new album they like, as if people turning to look at you over their shoulders don't matter one bit. Jeff speaks soft. “Hey, you wanna compare the homework before first period? I found an old textbook in the library and I think I have the right idea, but if you’ve given it a try, too-”

Your name comes in a distinctively curt call, the way your Mom used to say it when she found you playing in mud and pretended not to be angry. Your heart drops, toes curling your shoes. May’s expression is tight, eyes fixed on you to avoid looking at the boys you are surrounded by. 

Your mouth opens to speak, but what do you say here? Introduce them? Apologise? Fabric twists in your shaking fingers while you look up at Jeff, knowing that you need to be left alone with your friend now. 

“Let’s go over it another day,” Jeff says, giving you a brace filled smile and May a quick worried look. “See you later.”

Gareth and Matthew follow the farewell, and you’re left alone. Looking at May's face, you can't help but feel guilty. 

She knows. 

“You went on a date with him?” 

Oh. She knows. 

You pull your sleeves over your hands and nod, trying to remember the words you were rehearsing this morning, trying to picture how this scene could play out in a way that ends with May’s smile. You are left empty by the disappointment, the exhaustion in her expression. You just twist your sleeves in your thumbs. “How did you-”

“Tracy's boyfriend works at the diner in town. He didn't know your name, but he told her the freak was there with that one girl that never says anything and well, it wasn't that hard for her and everybody else to work it out." She shakes her head, shrugging incredulously. "Were you even trying to hide it?” You shake your head, wanting it to be a proclamation that of course you weren't hiding, that you didn't want to hide Eddie one bit. Instead, it feels like the action of a scolded child admitting fault. “It’s like-” she starts, touching her forehead as if it’s aching, then clasping her hands together in front of her chest. “It’s like you’re determined to make life difficult for yourself.”

“May-”

“I mean, of everyone, everyone in school, you pick Eddie Munson. Eddie Munson. What is the aim here, exactly? To tank what reputation you have left? What are you going to say to Caroline at lunch when she asks about this?” 

Caroline, something of a Queen Bee in the cheer squad. May has been trying to impress her for years. She's half the reason May joined cheerleading, why she saves up for those weekend trips instead of drinking smoothies and gossiping with you and Heather. Caroline is also the reason May is embarrassed of you more often than not, these days.

Caroline thinks you are strange. She has told you to your face. Conversations with her are limited to sharing the answers of your homework, asking you to do her makeup before a competition, comments about your silence, the fact you can’t look her in the eye, the way you fidget with your clothes.

You could probably ignore it, if you didn’t know it hurt May just as much because of her association with you.

“Oh wait, you won’t say anything. You’ll just sit there and wait for me to explain it for you. Well, I really don’t think I can do that. I mean, do you even know how much time I spent defending you after the Andy thing?” She waits, and you realise she’s expecting an answer. You shake your head and you feel pathetic. “It took up entire practices sometimes. But I did it, I defended you, just like I always do. No, guys, you don’t get it! She hurt cause Andy embarrassed her and she’s shy! Too shy to even try talking to any of you instead of just hanging around all the time, but not shy enough to avoid dating Eddie fucking Munson!”

It’s your longest shame. The memory of the first time you found it hard to speak to someone is hazy, but you know you were young, and that the dread involved in talking to new people, important people, popular people, has never gone away.

You sniff. “I- I’m not trying to make it hard for you.” 

“Of course you aren’t!” She cries, exasperated. “But you’re not putting any effort into making it easy for me, either.”

“I didn’t- It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. I was- I wanted to explain everything.”

“What? So I could defend you properly?”

“No!” You cry, reaching for her hand and feeling relieved when she lets you take it. You stare at your fingers holding hers, your matching pale blue nails. “No, May. I hate that I made you feel that way. I’m sorry that you’ve had to defend me. I’m sorry I've left you to explain, but this- I wanted to explain it myself so you could try to understand.”

“Try to understand what? Why you need to date Munson?”

“Yes. I know you don’t like him but he-” Is perfect for you, makes you feel safe, touches you like you’ve been waiting for. “He’s kind, May. And it’s like he- he knows how to talk to me when I…you know, get quiet.”

Her gaze snaps to you. You feel her fingers flex like she wants away from your touch. “And what? I don’t?”

"No, you do, May. You and Heather, you’re the only ones who ever really have. You know that. But, some of the others, like with Andy. It annoyed him.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but it gets annoying.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat, nodding your understanding. 

“I’m sure Andy didn’t mind it in the beginning either.” May says. “Give Munson time. He might not like it so much when you’re six months in, still barely talking and all you’ve let him do is fucking dry hump you.”

You wince, hating to think about everything that happened, hating that she knew all that before you told her, hating that thought that Eddie could ever act the way Andy did. The tears that have been building finally start to spill, and you drag a sleeve up to your eyes, sniffing desperately and looking up to try and stop the pooling. 

You hear May sigh, feel her squeeze your hand in what you’re sure is an apology. 

“Okay. Fine. You like Munson. You told me that before and I should have taken it seriously but instead I sent you out into the woods to talk to him alone so, wow, I guess this is my fault.” You’re not sure if she’s joking, not sure what she wants you to say to any of that. “But I’m not justifying it to the cheer girls, okay? I mean it. If they want you gone, you’re sitting at the freak’s table for the rest of senior year whether you keep dating him or not.” 

There is a single moment, fleeting in your mind, where the thought of that brings you relief.

She’s not wrong. You let your worries be taken up with explaining it to her, but you find yourself answering questions from just about everyone else all day. 

A boy in Spanish you’ve never once spoken to, asking if you really got a ride to school with Eddie Munson this morning. Your desk partner in Math who always copies your answers passes you a note asking if it’s true you’ve been secretly dating for months. A freshman in the hallway whose brother you babysit asks if the freak is your boyfriend now, if you’re going to try and sneak him into her house when her parents are out. 

Yes. No. Sort of. Of course not. 

Maybe you should feel prepared when you walk into the cafeteria, ready to be questioned. One look at Caroline's picture perfect smile and your packed lunch is shaking in your trembling fingers. 

You spy the empty seats directly opposite her as you approach. Like it's planned, like she wanted to keep your options closed. Instinctively, you look over to the other side of the cafeteria as you sit, wishing Eddie were with you and not at the head of his table, gesticulating with his hands with each beat of the story he’s telling his friends.

“Oh, my God. It’s true.” Your gaze snaps back, feeling caught out even though you weren’t trying to hide. Caroline’s own eyes move from where she had followed yours to your face, eyebrows pulled together like she can’t believe somebody so strange as you could be real. You stare at her chin, shaking your knee under the table. “You are dating Munson.”

“Yes."

You hear the chair beside you pull out, see May sitting in your periphery with a light smile. “Hi, girls!”

“Did you know about this?” Caroline asks, gesturing to you with her head like you’re a red wine stain on a white shag carpet.

“God, no." She did warn you, but it still feels like a betrayal, still hurts your chest like one. "Not until Tracy phoned yesterday.”

“I mean, I can’t say I’m entirely surprised,” Caroline replies, widening her eyes and smirking. “If anyone was going to have a thing for the freak.” 

You would like to be strong. You would like to sound eloquent and speak with finality. Instead, you force out quiet words. "He’s kind.”

It’s as if you didn’t say anything at all.  

“Is this because Andy broke up with you?” You glance over down the table at the curious face of another girl, her hair tied back in the familiar green scrunchie. “Like is this you trying to make him jealous?” You flinch, shaking your head, but she continues, voice half a giggle. “Cause I mean, I think you may have picked the wrong guy.”

“I’m- I’m not trying to make anybody jealous.”

“My God. Imagine being jealous of Eddie Munson,” Caroline laughs, earning herself a chorus of agreement. 

“Have you seen that van he drives?”

“He's been a senior since I started high school.”

“I had to go to his place once to pick up. You know he lives in a trailer, right?”

“Yes.” You answer, the judgement of his home, cosy and safe, filled with Eddie’s presence, so personal that it lends you a moment of defiance. 

“Oh, you've been?” Caroline again, her pretty blue eyes set right on you. She tilts her head, hair falling in a smooth wave over her shoulder. “What have you been getting up to with that boy?”

Your heart pounds in your ears as dread settles. She's looking at you like she knows every salacious thing you have done in Eddie's bedroom, like she was standing over you during every intimate moment, and is now excited to share. Taking a breath, your mouth opens even as you have nothing to say. 

“I think it’s cute.” 

Erin Maclean sits with a forkful of salad ready to go into her mouth, grinning to the side. Clearly she's happy to have interrupted Caroline's excitement at having caught you out. You suspect displeasing Caroline is a bigger motive for Erin than any righteous feelings she might get from defending you. 

She has been one step out the door of being able to sit at the table for months, since everyone found out she slept with Caroline’s boyfriend at a party, a perfect high school scandal that made its way round the school and culminated in Erin being shunned by the whole table…until she threatened to quit cheerleading entirely. More talented than any of the others, her tumbling won the cheer team second place at regionals. 

Even Caroline's influence wasn't strong enough to go up against the desire to win. Now they content themselves with iciness to Erin's face and talking viciously behind her back.

You judged her at the time. It was only later, after Andy, that you saw the hypocrisy. It was like he had no part in things going wrong. Then the injustice became clear, that cruel insults are written about Erin in bathroom stalls months later, while the boy involved, the only one of the triangle who cheated, suffered a single week of pouty silence followed by a public reconciliation that flicked the single spot of dust from his reputation away for good. 

You stare at Erin now, amazed at the ease in her voice, the way she plays them all to her tune. 

“It’s kinda like," she waves her hand in the air. "Who’s that teen actress with the red hair?”

“Molly Ringwald! I love her!”

“Yeah! They’re like Molly Ringwald and the punk guy in the Breakfast Club.”

“Don’t spoil it! I haven’t seen it yet!”

“Damon finally watched Sixteen Candles with me last week, it was so romantic.”  

Just like that, the discussion has moved past you, to someone else’s much more suitable boyfriend, one worthy of their time. You feel your bottom lip shake with the beginning of relieved tears, blinking them away when you find Erin’s gaze. 

She gives you a close lipped smile, but she looks sad with it. The sweet relief you were feeling is dulled by the pity in her eyes.  

❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦

By last period, you are exhausted with answering questions and explaining yourself to people who have never before taken an interest in you. You drop yourself behind a desk and let your head fall forward into your notebook, hoping that hiding your face will prevent any questions from the students filtering into the History class. You filter out the chatter, your head noisy enough on its own. 

Gentle fingers brush at the hair on your temple, and when you turn your head, you find Eddie squatting down beside your desk. At once, the sight of his tender smile soothes the tightness in your chest. You gaze at him, the features of his handsome face, and know that every question, every moment of frustration, will be entirely worth it if he will keep looking at you like this. 

“You okay, sweet girl?”

You almost nod, almost lie, but the truth comes easily with Eddie. “I’m tired.”

“Needed to talk to everybody and their dog today, I bet,” he says, rubbing the curve of his finger over your cheek. This time you do nod, realising he must have experienced the same thing all day. Eddie sighs, as you had. “'S my fault.”

That makes you sit up straight, registering the guilt in his expression. “No, it isn’t.”

Eddie’s eyes follow your movement, and he gives you a dejected smile. “It’s because of me.”

You shake your head, hating that even more, hating that he thinks he’s the problem when just the sight of his face is what makes the real problem disappear from your mind. 

“It’s because of us,” you correct, thinking about reaching out to curl a lock of his hair around your finger but curling your fingers into your palms instead. “And I-” You look away from his eyes, focusing on his forehead so you can say it. “I kissed you first, remember?”

Eddie’s face goes from concerned to soft in an instant, eyes wide and shining as he tilts his head, face splitting into a smile. “That’s true.”  

“Move, Munson,” 

You both glance up at Mark; stocky, scowling, clad in green and white. Shaking his head, Eddie looks at you and rolls his eyes. “If only the class were set up in some kind of grid system, then he could get round me so easily.”

You giggle softly until Eddie is shoved with a knee, almost toppling him until he grasps your desk, looking up again in disbelief. 

“I said move.” 

“Well, if you insist.” Eddie straightens up, taking a step right into Mark’s space to wrap his arms around the back of his neck and swing them round like they’re dancing. He waggles his eyebrows, tilting his chin up with a grin. “This is so romantic.”

“Jesus-” Mark pushes Eddie away from him, sending him crashing back into his seat in a way that must hurt, not that Eddie's laughter would give it away. “You are a freak, Munson.”

“Don’t talk to me like what we had wasn’t special!” Eddie calls after him, adjusting himself in his seat and pouting at you. “They always run.”

You rest your chin in your hand, in awe of him. Eddie looks like he's already moved on. He can deal with cruel words and physical intimidation like it’s all a joke, when an off tone on a single word can leave you wringing your hands all day. 

Eddie sighs, resting his own head on his hand opposite you. “You know, I really wanna pass this class, and if I’m gonna pay attention, you’ll have to stop that.”

You hear the teacher starting up at the front of the room, but you have to ask. “Stop what, Eddie?”

He tilts his chin up. “Lookin’ so pretty.” 

You make distressed sound like you want him to stop, but you can’t fight the cheek aching smile that sits on your face the whole class.

When the final bell rings, you are desperate to get out of the building before anyone new can approach. You find yourself grabbing Eddie's hand the second your bags are packed, half dragging the giddy looking boy through the halls and then outside to the safety of his van. 

When the doors are closed and you are speeding away, listening to Matthew and Jeff argue about what should be on the stereo, hearing Eddie snapping at them and starting up a Dio tape without further discussion, you feel you can breathe properly for the first time since you got up this morning.

Eddie grabs your hand the second Jeff and the others have jumped from the back of his van, the three of them calling out goodbyes to both of you by name. “Still happy to come back to mine?” 

You nod, wanting that desperately. “We could do the History homework.”

“Shit. I told you I wanted to pass that class, didn't I?” 

“Mm hmm.”

"Always setting yourself up, Munson," he mumbles, sighing. "Okay, Princess. For you, I will sit with you in close proximity to my bed and…do homework with you.”

“It’s always easier with two people. May and I-” You cut yourself off, reminded that you don't entirely know where your longest friendship stands. Telling her did not go at all how you’d planned. You’ve annoyed her, something you’ve been doing more and more recently. But maybe it hurt her, too, that she found out from somebody else.

“I guess you told your friends?”

“Mm,” you sigh. “I didn’t get to tell May the way I wanted to.”

“Right. Just checking, you think there’s anything you could have done that would have made her cool with this?”

You consider that, opening and closing your mouth a few times before shrugging. “I don't know. But I wanted- I mean, my plan was...” You squirm a little, finding your new favourite thing to play with, the gem set into Eddie's ring cool to the touch of your finger. “I wanted to tell her why I…like you so much.”

You expect a little tease. Nothing terrible, but Eddie brand mischief at least. Instead, his shoulders roll back like you've given him a bout of new confidence. He glances at you after turning the sharp corner into the trailer park. 

“I’m still not entirely used to that,” he admits. “You know, three different people came up to me today, asking if you were really my girlfriend.” You sit with him when he stops outside his home, pressing one shoe to the top of the other.

“And what did you say?”

“I told them it had nothing to do with them and it was weird as hell to be asking when they don’t even know me.” Eddie gives your hand a squeeze. “And then some guy called Jeff says, what are you talking about Eddie, we’ve been friends for years? So I thought I’d tell him anyway, cause I sort of wanted to talk about it.” Eddie’s face is serious, looking into your eyes. “Told him I hadn’t asked, but I am going to."

“Okay,” you whisper, heart fluttering. Eddie watches the way you sit up in your seat, and brings your hand to his lips to lay a soft kiss at your knuckles.

“Not yet though,” Eddie says, tone suddenly lighter as he opens the door at his side, hair flying behind him as he jumps out of the van. “Gotta be at just the right moment, you know?” 

You blink after him, close to a huff, but the sound of his boyish laugh is so sweet that you find yourself climbing out and jogging after him to keep yourself close, where you want to be.

The TV is on in the space of the living room, but Wayne is standing in the kitchen. Water sloshes. You hear the sound of scoured metal against a pan over the serious voice of a newscaster reading headlines.

“Hi Wayne!” Eddie calls, removing his jacket and throwing it on the couch unceremoniously. 

“Afternoon." Wayne catches you standing at the door when he looks up to greet Eddie and gives you an acknowledging nod. "Hi again.”

You wave briefly and give in to the temptation to hide, pressing the side of your face to Eddie’s arm when he takes your hand. "We have homework. For History." 

Wayne nods again, glancing between the two of you. "Not a problem. Just cleaning up after my breakfast. You want coffee or anything?"

"I do. Sweetheart?" You shake your head, the urge not to be a bother always present. Eddie bumps your hip with his. "I can make one how you like it in case you change your mind, mm?" 

"Okay, Eddie." You let go of him reluctantly, feeling out of place watching him and Wayne fluidly move around each other in their kitchen. 

"You wanna get us set up at the table?" Eddie asks. You nod, glad to have been given a task to stop you standing in the middle of the room feeling at odds. You sit at the little fold out table by the kitchen, retrieving your History folder, notebook and pencil case from your bag while dishes clink and coffee is poured to your right. 

"You two got a lot of classes together?" Wayne asks, setting the washed pan on a drying rack next to the sink. 

"Not this year. This one's working for college credits in a bunch of subjects."

You smile at the pride in Eddie’s voice, digging a toe of your sneaker into the floor.

"You heading to college next year?" Wayne is asking you directly, leaning back on the counter and drying his hands on a kitchen towel. You nod, hum a little positive sound. "Where you headed?"

"Mm, my friends are probably staying in Indiana...”

Wayne’s face is serious, edging on concerned. “Didn’t ask about your friends. Wanna know about you.”

Your face heats. You glance at Eddie, who is already looking over his shoulder at you like he knew you’d need him. He gives you a little smile, an encouraging nod, and you glance back at Wayne. “I mean, I guess I might just stay with them. But, I don’t know, I might try for NYU?” 

"She's gonna write about old poems in other languages. That’s right, isn’t it, sweetheart?" Eddie places your mug down on the table and throws himself down in the opposite chair, immediately searching through your open pencil case. You see his eyes widen in delight, landing on a pale blue pen with a fluffy top that you sometimes play with when you’re in class and the teacher is calling on people to speak. Eddie presses the softness at the end to his face, strokes it up and down his cheek. “Why aren’t all pens like this?”

You watch him adoringly while he tickles his own neck and laughs softly to himself. 

"It was nice seeing you again," Wayne says, suddenly closer. When you turn to him, feeling sheepish that you had, for a second, forgotten he was there, he's giving you a small, but genuine smile. 

You realise that you've been caught. You can only imagine the way you look at Eddie, especially in the moments he acts like this, sweet and silly and him. Maybe your expression showcases it, the fact that you’d rather look at Eddie than anything else.

"You, too.” You mumble, clearing your throat to try and get the next words out more clearly. “Thanks, um, for letting me work here."

"Course. Anyone my boy wants around is welcome. You take care. I'll see you later, Eddie."

Eddie finally pays attention, bringing the soft fluff down from his chin and grinning. "Later, Wayne." 

You smile shyly when Wayne’s out the door, remembering the last time he left the two of you alone in this trailer, Eddie’s hands and mouth exactly where you wanted him most, where you are fighting against the want for him now.

You search through your pencil case for a slightly more practical pen. “I thought, maybe, we could do the questions together? I can start at five if you do one, and we could meet in the middle?”

Eddie’s head tilts, his hair falling across his mischievous face. “You actually wanna do the History homework? It's not due till Wednesday."

"But you have a gig tomorrow." 

Eddie considers this fact for a second, then leans his head back and groans into the air. He slumps, bum sliding forward on his seat until his body is a diagonal line from the back of the chair to the floor. He looks so much like a grumpy little boy with his big pouty lips and wide eyes that your heart aches a little even while you’re close to laughing at him. "I hadn't considered this,” he sighs, arms crossing over his chest. “You're really gonna make me do my homework all the time, aren't you?"

"Oh. I mean, I thought-” You suddenly feel a little silly, find yourself playing with the paper of your notebook, curling up the corner of the top page with your thumb. “I guess I thought it would be nice. But I can- I’m happy to go home, next time.”

Eddie shakes his head decisively, grasping the table to help sit himself up. "No, Jesus. I don’t want that. I’d choose doing my homework with you over doing anything else without you. Always.” He rests his elbows on the surface, leaning in close enough you can smell the smoke and the mint of his breath. “I guess I’m just wondering how much of the time we’ll spend on homework is time I could have spent with my tongue inside you." 

The space between your legs pulses with sudden heat, leaving you rubbing your thighs together. You could curse him for having this amount of power over you already, that he can say something so casually that leaves you with the beginnings of an encompassing ache. Eddie is grinning, proud of himself, watching your eyes keep darting from his face to the table and back again, searching through your blank mind for a reply.

“But you call the shots here, sweet thing,” he acquiesces, satisfied by the shadow of regret on your face. “Question one, you said? I’ll get right on that.” 

You watch him write his name at the top of the paper, leaning over the table. The concentrated look in his big eyes as he reads the question, his pink tongue coming to rest at his top lip. His soft hair is asking to be stroked as well as pulled. The pale column of his neck begs for kisses. The curve of his arms and the tattooed skin peeking out from his shirt want your tracing fingers. 

“Stop it,” you mumble, pressing a toe to the end of one of his Reebox under the table.

“Stop what?” 

You tilt your head. “Mm. Looking so pretty.”

Eddie’s eyes widen. Me? He mouths, pressing a palm to his chest as you nod. That hand moves to drag some of his hair across his face. Eddie plays it up, but you know that you have made him genuinely happy because, when he is done fluttering his eyelashes, his gaze moves to the table and he looks, for a second, earnestly shy.

“Well, I guess I’ll try. But no promises.”

Eddie writes quick, once he’s settled. As you finish your first question, he has written his answers for two. Your agreement, to work on the third question together, gives him a moment of pause that his busy brain latches onto. It drags him on to the next activity as soon as he’s written his last word, and then he’s offering you more coffee and searching through the cupboards for a preferred snack. He even disappears into his room for a minute, emerging with a mug he’d used yesterday that he throws in the sink before returning to his snack hunt. 

It reminds you of the way you’ve seen Eddie in class sometimes. Deeply focused, then suddenly playing with the ends of his hair, drumming a distracting beat, doodling on his notebook around the beginnings of what must have been good notes. 

It’s only when you’re finished with your own questions and reading through his that you bring him back to the table. It doesn’t take much, just an exclamation of, “Eddie, that’s a really good point!” 

He is sitting down opposite you the next second, looking just as pleased at that as he was to be called pretty. 

The second your pens are down from writing the final answer, Eddie is round your side of the table and pulling you up from the chair by your forearms like he wants to run away from the books and paper in case you suggest any more work. “That was exhausting,” he says, walking backwards to keep his eyes on you, briefly tripping over a discarded magazine but otherwise walking with practised ease. “You do that all the time?”

You giggle to watch him throw himself back on his bed and give a tired groan as if he’d just written ten thousand words and not five short paragraphs. He toes off his shoes carelessly, kicking them from his feet while you kneel to tug at your laces

“You really never do your homework?” You ask, loosening the tongue of your left sneaker and pulling it off before shifting to the right one. 

“I try. Sometimes. I just, y’know, get bored,” Eddie says above your head. “Then I get distracted, and I can’t get back into it.”

“Well, we can work together, now.” You finish with your other shoe and look up at him from the floor, finding Eddie’s gaze intent on you already. You swallow, glancing at his knees, bare through denim, spread apart from each other on his bed. If you shuffled forward a couple of feet, you’d be between them.

“Yeah?” Eddie’s shoulders roll back, hands behind him on the bed. “You gonna keep me motivated? Reward me when I’m good?”

A shiver runs up your back, the ache that had never truly gone away now roaring its presence. It is a strange feeling, to know that Eddie likes looking at you on your knees, that he must like the thought of what you could do for him, positioned like this. And then, to still feel unsure. Maybe you’ve misunderstood. Maybe you haven’t and doing what you think he wants would be a mistake anyway. You don’t know what you’re doing, and he won’t like it. If he does like it, if you’re good at that, what would that say about you? 

Do you ask to do it? If he asks you, what do you say back? You know he likes the things you say to him when he is touching you. But to beg and praise and thank him when your body is alight with the pleasure he gives happens naturally. It happens without the involvement of your brain, when your ecstatic body tells your mouth the things Eddie wants to hear. 

What do you say when you are the one giving? When your brain is working full tilt to ensure you are doing everything right?

You look briefly between his legs, the metal buckle of his belt, the black denim that hides him from you, and you are both wanting and scared. You find his eyes, and they are kind.

“Eddie,” you whisper. 

“C’mere.” 

You clamber up to him, almost a familiar position now to be sat in his lap with your knees bracketing his thighs. You bury your face in his shoulder, letting yourself be soothed by the softness of his shirt against your cheek and the smell of him; smoke and weed, his cheap and pleasant aftershave. Eddie hums low, stroking a hand down the back of your head, massaging gently at your neck. 

“I wish-” You mumble, regretting it immediately, the end of the sentence too embarrassing to say. You think he might prompt you, but instead he keeps rubbing at the back of your head with his thumb, his hand a delightful warm pressure on your neck. You breathe in the boyish smell of him, mind settling on Eddie who is kind, Eddie who won’t judge, Eddie who wants to look after you.

“I wish I could talk like you.”

“I’m not sure this town could handle another person who talks the same shit I talk, sweet thing,” he laughs. “Besides, I’d miss the way you talk.”

You hide your whole face in his shoulder, voice coming out muffled. “But I mean…in bed.” Embarrassment crawls up and down your spine to be saying this. “It’s like it’s easy. You just make me all- make me so-”

You unconsciously wiggle on his lap, a desirous little movement that doesn’t escape Eddie. He huffs a soft laugh into your cheek. “I make you so…hot and wet in your little cunt?”

You squeeze your eyes shut even though the world is already hidden by his shoulder against your face. “Eddie,”. 

“You know, it’s probably easier than you think.” Eddie’s big hand locates yours where it was pressed to his chest, bringing it up to his lips to kiss your palm before he lowers it. “Cause, you? Fuck, sweetheart, all you need to do is say my name.” Eddie presses your palm to his crotch, where you can feel him, thick and hard under the zip. “Say it again.”

He lets you curl your fingers, getting a feel for the girth of him, the length hidden by denim. You turn your head from his shoulder, glancing up at his face to find that the warm brown of his eyes has vanished behind pools of black. You whisper. “Eddie.”

You feel the excited twitch of his cock at the sound of his name from your lips. He is hot and ready against your palm, and the thought of touching him more, seeing him like he’s seen you takes over your brain. “Eddie,” you murmur, earning yourself another twitch, followed this time by his soft lips on yours. Your shoulders release their tension, content to feel Eddie’s mouth, to taste the promise that you are allowed to get things wrong because it’s him. You gasp softly when he releases you, your eyes fluttering closed when he dots kisses over your face, breath heavy when your palm rolls tentatively over his swollen cock. “Eddie, I want-” Your throat protests, and you pause to build yourself up to it again. 

“Do you want my mouth?”

Your pussy throbs, the memory of Eddie’s tongue at your entrance, how soft his lips were kissing your clit. “Oh. Yes, please.” 

“S’fucking sweet,” he says, grabbing your hand from his crotch. “Lie back, baby-”

“Wait,” you gasp, tightening your legs on either side of him to keep him from turning you over. “I want- I want to-”

Your toes curl, wishing again you could be more like Eddie, who offers his tongue with the same ease as a cup of coffee. 

Eddie strokes his thumb over your wrist, feels your racing pulse under his fingers and shakes his head, soft hair moving with him. “You don’t have to do anything, baby.”

“I know,” you answer with certainty, chest warm. It’s the knowing you don’t have to that makes you want to. It’s the fact that Eddie doesn’t expect you to offer anything more than what you’re willing to give that makes you want to give so much. 

You can’t say it, not how you want to, but you can still tell him.

You turn your wrist out of his hand, grab his own. Your heart pounds when you curl three of his fingers down. You clasp his wrist with both hands, hoping they can keep each other steady, and bring his fingers to your lips. Chancing a look at Eddie when your tongue flicks out along his rough pads, you find his mouth hanging loose, eyes blinking and intent on your lips. He tastes like his last cigarette at the tips, like skin further down. You breathe heavily through your nose as you press your head forward, sliding along his warm fingers until your lips meet the cool metal of his rings. Your tongue curls naturally around the length of the digits, and the noise that escapes the back of Eddie’s throat when you suck gently stokes the heat between your thighs, the sticky feeling of cotton pressing to wet skin. 

“Okay,” he breathes, face flushed. “Okay, shit.” 

You pull back, dragging the soft inside of your lips along his skin, and Eddie makes a low groan in the back of his throat, one of his legs shaking between yours. “Will you-” His voice breaks, a soft squeak at the last word, and you hear him clear his throat desperately through your heart beating in your ears. Eddie sighs, speaks soft. “Open your mouth a little for me, sweet thing.”

It takes you a second, still wrapping your head around the satisfying feeling of your mouth being filled, the taste of Eddie’s skin, the ability to speak taken away. Your mouth opens wider as soon as the request registers in your brain. You let Eddie press his fingers deeper, your eyes fluttering at the smooth glide over your tongue. Just as you get a taste of the metal of his rings, your body protests the depth,  our fingers twitching at the gagging sound your throat makes. You blink away the first spring of tears as Eddie coos softly, tilting your head so you’re looking right at his intent gaze, his gentle pout. He draws his fingers in and out of your mouth, skating along your drooling tongue. 

“Just wanted to see what I’m working with, mm? My girl wants my cock in her mouth, is that it?” 

You try to make a positive noise, but it comes out as any other sound would with your lips wide open like this. Eddie doesn’t seem to mind. He gives another deep prod with his fingers, grinning when your prepared throat lets him in a little deeper before protesting with a short gag. 

Eddie pulls his fingers from your mouth and grasps your cheeks with his wet hand, the curve that connects his forefinger and thumb sitting at your chin. “I think you’re gonna be a natural. You wanna get on your knees for me?”

The tears that had sprung up from your gagging pool a little more at the relief of Eddie taking over. You’ve told him what you want without words, he understood, and now he’s going to give you it. “Yes, Eddie.”

“Okay, baby.” He helps you off the bed, kicking shoes out of the way and replacing them on the floor with one of his pillows, making you feel soft for him even as you’re trembling in anticipation. Your head feels light when you sink down, settling your knees on the pillow before you look up at his flushed, smiling face. “Comfy?” 

Eddie’s fingers push back stray hairs from your forehead when you nod, his thumb rubbing soft over your cheekbone. “You can stop any time, you know that, right?” Another nod from you, your hands coming to rest at the inner seams of his jeans, feeling the radiating warmth there. “Even half way through, even right at the end, okay?”

“Yes, Eddie.”

“I want a God damn recording of you saying that,” he groans, leaning down to capture your lips in a quick kiss wet with your spit and his. “I’d play it on a fucking loop everywhere I go.”

You hum, body tingling in a mix of excitement and worry. Waiting to touch Eddie, wanting it to be good for him. Knowing he’ll help you, hoping he doesn’t mind. Chewing your lip, you rub your hand up his thigh, staring at his face the whole time. You find him hard and straining still, a soft whimper edging from his mouth at the pressure of your fingers. 

“Baby, I’ve got to-” He groans at the back of his throat. “Can I take it out?”

You nod quickly, the ends of your fingers rubbing the bulge of him as Eddie attacks his belt, his desperation to get it open making his fingers clumsy, fiddling with the clasp until he starts shaking his knee in exasperation. You hear the gentle clink of the buckle when he finally succeeds with it, followed by the differing metallic sound of his zip.  

Eddie’s hand disappears under the grey band of his boxers, and you feel his fingers slide under yours through his pants. His shoulders shake, like he’s been waiting for this relief, like it was hurting, when his hand jerks under the cotton. You stare at that place, the thick, dark curls of hair that peak out from his waistband, the movement of his hand under shifting fabric. Your tongue peeks out to wet dry lips. 

He laughs softly when he catches the anticipation on your face, dimples appearing at his cheeks. Eddie sounds like he’s only just realised what’s happening. “Fuck. Fuck. You want my cock in your mouth.”

Your cunt clenches and you find yourself nodding, watching his hand drag his cock out from his jeans, pulling his fist over the thick length in a few quick strokes. “You ever seen a dick before?” You shake your head, eyes fixed on the round, smooth end of him that peeks out from folds of pink skin when his hand glides back. “Shit, man. It’s fucked. I know it’s fucked but that’s so hot.” 

His hands speeds up, drawing out some liquid from his tip, pooling at his slit. A primal part of you resents being made to watch, your fingers digging into his thigh in protest. Eddie’s body shakes up his back. “I’m sorry, baby. ‘S all yours.” 

The fear that he might leave you on your own to work out what to do rises and falls away when he grabs your hand and shows your where to touch him. Eddie wraps your hand around him at the base, and you feel the twitching you’d only known through fabric, now directly in your palm, along your fingers. 

You swallow as Eddie guides your pace, feeling the soft skin wrapped around firm flesh. “A little tighter, baby- yeah, yeah, shit. Wait, fuckin’, shit, spit on your hand a little. S’better if it’s wet.” It’s like a call and response, the way you take barely a second to spit into your palm and return your hand to glide along his cock. It is easier, your hand moving smoother. “Twist a little at the end.” You follow his advice, turning your hand at his tip, and he groans through his teeth. You watch more cum leaking from him, dripping from his slit, pooling within the skin that covers his head every time your hand moves up towards the end of his cock.

You hardly expect it yourself when your tongue lathes over the end of him. Eddie cries out above you but you hardly notice, considering the new taste of him, musk and salt like the sweat on your top lip after a long run. Strange and new but not unpleasant. Your tongue peeks out again to lap softly at his head, licking away pooling cum and leaving the head of him wet with your spit, unknowingly teasing him beyond what he can handle.

“That taste good, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, voice strained. You look up at him with wide eyes and hum positively, any thoughts of embarrassing desperation miles away when Eddie is watching you like this. “You gonna let me fuck your mouth now?”

Your pussy throbs when Eddie brushes your hand away from his cock, grasping the base with his own ring covered hand and tapping himself against your tongue. The wet dirty sound of it, the feeling of his spongy head bouncing on your tongue makes you squirm, opening your mouth wider so he has the space to take it how he wants it. 

His cock glides easily along your wet tongue until his head, heavy and warm, is past your lips entirely. “If you- if you cover your teeth you can- yeah,” he laughs when you instinctively bring your lips over your top teeth to suck at the swollen flesh filling your mouth, Eddie’s big hand rubbing at the length still exposed to the air. “Was right, baby. You were fucking made for this.”

Eddie seems torn between letting his head fall back on his neck to focus on the feel of you, and remembering every detail of how you look on your knees for him; eyes wide, mouth stretched open. His face keeps disappearing and reappearing, thrown back then staring down. You keep sucking gently, enjoying the weight of him on your tongue, the constant drip of salt slick from his cock. Praise from Eddie has your clit twitching, and you think distantly about dipping your fingers into your panties to rub at the swollen button. But you want Eddie’s tongue more, the thought of it making you whine around his cock. 

Eddie’s hips buck, his cock pushing deeper until it hits the same place his fingers had prodded, your throat clenching in protest. You pull away from him, leaving him wet with drool, to take a breath. “M’sorry, m’sorry,” he breathes, stroking the back of your head with one hand and pressing his tip into your mouth with the other. “Get back on my cock.”

You squirm as you take him back inside, bobbing your head in time with his hand moving along his cock. You rub his thighs, still hidden in his jeans, feeling the ocassional twitch under your fingers from him fighting the urge to ignore your protesting throat and fuck himself deeper. “We’re gonna do this all the time now, yeah?”

You hum in agreement, wanting this feeling again, as much as he’ll let you have it. Sitting at Eddie’s feet, making him feel good, the heavy thickness of him filling up your mouth. 

“Yeah, we’re gonna train you up, baby. ‘M gonna help you take it deeper till you can take my cock in your tight little throat. Till I can feel myself here.” He rubs a thumb over the hollow of your neck, pressing down like he’s imagining massaging his cock through the skin. “That sound good?”

You groan, feeling desperate now. Your panties are uncomfortably wet, your hips grinding into the air in the search for friction. Wanting him to cum, wanting him to cum now, you reach up to brush his working hand from his slick cock, replacing it with your own, trying to replicate his pace and jerking him into your bobbing mouth. 

“Shit,” Eddie gasps, both hands threading through your hair at the scalp, a tight painful grip that only makes your core throb, encouraging you along. You feel his cock twitch desperately in your mouth, under your fingers. “So warm, so fucking good on my cock, you’re unbelievable. This can’t be real. You’re a siren- a fucking succubus, you’re gonna kill me- fuck!”

Eddie’s ramblings make you more desperate for him, things only he would say, pushing you to take him deeper, the head of him finding the tight beginning of your throat. “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum now.” 

He pulls his cock from your mouth rapidly, leaving your hand to work him through his orgasm. You watch wide eyed at the twitch along his cock, his heavy balls underneath, followed by ropes of white cum from his tip. It covers your hand, warm and thicker than what had been dripping onto your tongue. 

You rub a thumb over the end of him, taking the last clinging drop before you bring your hand to your mouth, licking tentatively. The taste is almost familiar now, the texture new. “Holy shit-” You lap at it on your hand, a mix of curiosity about your own ability to taste and swallow him and the knowledge that boys are supposed to like it when girls do this. With anyone else, you might be worried about seeming desperate. You don’t mind Eddie knowing that you are. 

You gather spit in your mouth to help you swallow down what was on your hand, blinking at his softening cock for a second before kissing at what is left there. Eddie hisses, eyes closing tight while you lick up the rest of it. 

“You swallowed everything, sweet thing?” Feeling a strange, salacious pride, you show him your tongue, wet and clear of his cum, only for Eddie to grasp your face and lick along the muscle, groaning into your mouth at what is left of his taste there. “Okay. Okay, come up here, I’m gonna- fuck. Have to eat your pussy.”

Eddie tucks himself away in his boxers, and then he’s hauling you up to him, dragging your dress up and off before pushing you down on his bed. Eddie lacks all the gentle finesse he’d brought to this yesterday. Gone is the boy who rubbed his cheek against your thigh while playing with the edge of your panties. He tears this pair down your legs like he’s angry at them for being there, pressing his face to your cunt like he needs the taste of you the same way he needs air.

“S’fuckin wet,” he groans, dragging his tongue from your entrance to your twitchy clit. “Imagine that. Sweetest fuckin’ girl in town, and getting on your knees for me leaves your cunt sticky.” His lips wrap around your clit, sucking at the sensitive nerves until your toes curl in your frilled socks. Your hands find his hair, stroking through the soft, broken curls at the top of his head. Teeth brush your clit, your hips flying up against his face and your fingers grasping his hair tight enough it must hurt. 

Eddie spits, saliva pooling at your wet entrance to ease the way for his fingers, sliding through your slick and his to target the delightful spot at the end of you. 

“Eddie,” you cry, the build of it so much more intense than any time before, his fingers fucking your tight cunt while he sucks ungracefully at your clit. You gasp, high and desperate, your thighs closing around his head. Your fingers dig into his hair, keeping his wet mouth between your thighs while your hips roll desperately, using his outstretched, lapping tongue for your pleasure while your pussy clasps around his invading fingers. Your high is a quick, overwhelming thing. You feel it gush wet around his hand, the sounds of him playing with your hole increasingly sloppy until you’re keening, batting at his shoulder with tears in your eyes.

Your tense limbs loosen when Eddie’s mouth leaves you, tensing up for just a second at the final kiss Eddie gives your clit to feel the excited twitch of it against his lips. He crawls up your body, laying kisses on you at every level. Your mound, stomach, breasts. The hollow of your neck. His face is wet with you, leaving damp spots all across your skin. When his eyes are level with yours, his hair brushing the sides of your face, you reach up to tuck some of it behind his ear. 

Eddie laughs softly, his breath warm and humid on your face. “Congratulations,” he breathes. Eddie presses his sweaty forehead to yours and the world becomes his big soft eyes. “You’re going to be in every wet dream I have for the rest of my fucking life.”

You hum, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to pull him right down on top of you, stealing more kisses from him while his body weighs down on yours. 

 “How do you feel?” He asks, big hand rubbing your hip.

Another hum. Strange is the answer. To have been so in a moment just minutes ago, wanting something so desperately, and now to wonder what that wanting says about you. And then to resent that wonder, wanting to be present where you are, pleasured and cosy in Eddie’s bed, in his arms. 

“Liked it,” you assure, looking from his cheeks to his eyes. “I don’t know.”

“Felt so fucking good for me,” he breathes, leaving you chewing your lip bashfully. Eddie shakes his hair over your face, tickling your cheeks until you’re smiling and tucking it back again. Eddie kisses your forehead, your nose and your cheeks. Then your eyes, chin, jaw, back to your nose, soft lips scattering kisses over every bit of your face, leaving you giggly and breathless, clinging to him even more, needing him like this. He sighs into your mouth at the end. “Be my girlfriend.” Eddie’s eyes close tight the second he says it, face embarrassed while you lay under him, a picture of adoration. “I didn’t wanna ask like that- shit. Don’t answer.”

“I want to be your girlfriend, Eddie.” 

“Are you sure?” He asks, as if you aren’t stroking a hand over his face like a lover, rubbing his eyebrow with your thumb to ease the tension at his forehead. Your heart aches at his sweetly concerned expression. “Cause I can ask better. I can make it romantic, you know?” He pulls his bottom lip into his mouth, chews at it cruelly while he stares at your contented face. “I want to deserve you.”

You shake your head. A better speaker would be able to lay out all the reasons he already does, that anyone half as good as him deserves anything, everything they want. You are left with something more simple. “I- I just want to be yours.”

It seems to work just as well. Eddie’s sigh is long and shuddery. The release in his shoulders is the loss of a long held tension that you are trying to rub away with gentle hands.

Next Part

#eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #tmyg

[that-fangirl-1106]

Having some interesting thoughts about König.

So idk if y’all have seen Don’t Worry Darling but I recently rewatched it and the whole thing is so König coded.

And it can go one of two ways

One - you’re his beloved wife. And he worries so much for your safety while he’s away on missions. And your happiness, he worries you’ll get tired of waiting around for him while he’s gone. Even though he makes great money in his position as a colonel, you insist on still having your job to help with the income. He knows you work yourself to death while he’s away because you can’t stand to come home to an empty house.

When he heard about the Victory project his interest was immediately peaked. Knowing that he could do this and you’d be safe, you’d be taken care of; happy with nothing to do but keep the home clean and look pretty for him <3 It tugs at his heart.

But he can imagine what you’d say

“It’s too expensive”

“I like working, I don’t want to give that up”

Or the worst scenario

That you’d think him crazy. That you’d think him absolutely insane for wanting to chain you to the bed and keep you in a practically comatose state 24/7. That you’d leave him.

And he cannot have that. He won’t. So he does it. He convinces himself that deep down you’d know he’s doing the right thing. You’d know he’s just taking care of you. You actually wanted this, you just didn’t know it.

Or two (and the most likely scenario, in my opinion) - you’re the cute little barista at the coffee shop on base. He comes to see you to get a coffee every day. He orders the same thing “coffee. Black, please.” in his thick German accent. You easily memorized his order and learned to already have it made when you see his tall, imposing figure approaching the coffee stand.

You thought he was cute; how he was so big but tried to make himself small when he was around you. How quiet he was and how it was almost like pulling teeth getting him to talk to you about his day. His responses were always short, even on the rare occasion that he initiated conversation with you.

“The weather is nice today.”

“Your hair is nice.”

“Your nails are different from last time.”

When you started leaving little notes and hearts on his cup, he took that as a sign that you wanted him just as bad as he wanted you.

And what better way to have you than to take you. To take you to a place where you wouldn’t have to worry about a single thing. Where you can be his pretty little housewife. Safe and close to him.

He knew you’d put up a fight at first - he can tell how strong you are. But that would all be over soon. He would easily overpower you and get you nice and comfortable in his luxurious king sized bed. He’d have everything you need: an IV bag to keep you healthy, a wet rag to drop little bits of water into your mouth, and feeling tubes to keep you fed. He’d be the best caretaker, you’ll see.

He’ll write to your job and family, pretending to be you and saying that you had left and never wanted to see any of them. You were going to start a new life. A better life.

And in the Victory project, in the perfect world that you’d be waiting for him in, he would provide for you even better. Luxurious cars, your dream mansion, rows and rows of all the clothes you could ever want. You and him will be together.

Forever.

#call of duty mw2 #call of duty #konig x reader #konig headcanons #konig imagine #konig mw2 #konig cod #konig modern warfare #konig x you #konig #call of duty x reader #konig call of duty