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kiwi-bitchez · 7 months

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Double Down, Triple Threat

Summary: insecure!Eddie x bartender!Reader

Eddie is constantly flirting with you after his Corroded Coffin sets at the Hideout, and you have the bad habit of flirting back. What happens when you overhear a conversation that wasn’t meant for you? Maybe you’ve had the wrong idea about the cocky metalhead who negs you for free drinks. Now you need to take it into your own hands to resolve some built up tension.

Smut, as always, with a touch of angst but generally fluff/happy ending.

Word count: 18k (eek! in retrospect I maybe should have split this into multiple parts but...fuck it, brevity has never been my strong suit LOL) Buckle up for a doozy.

Content warnings: smut, afab reader with she/her pronouns, use of y/n, alcohol consumption, smoking, the devil’s lettuce, mention of Eddie's scars and sustained injuries (slightly canon divergent obviously because our boy is ALIVE here, but the events of season 4 generally stand otherwise), also Eddie does some negative self talk where he refers to himself as mutilated but everything is happy in the end I promise, and scars are nothing to be insecure about he's just down in the dumps you feel me?, oral (fem receiving), fingering (fem receiving), unprotected PIV sex (plz use protection irl), pet names, reader and Eddie shower together

A/N: I know it’s been a hot minute since I’ve posted a fic on here, but I hope all y’all who are still riding the Eddie Munson thirst train enjoy this :) I’m trying to regain the motivation to write more, so hopefully more fics to come soon (no promises though lol) (maybe some Steve? Steddie x Reader? Let me know what y’all want to see.) I

"I'll have the usual," his hoarse voice and boisterous presence cut through what few other customers sat at your bar, forcing your attention his way.

"Yeah, and what would that be?" you try to give him your best deadpan voice, unsure yet if you were in the mood for his antics.

"Come on, like I ever order anything other than a whiskey and coke," his curly dark hair stuck slightly to his damp forehead, not having bothered to wipe the sweat from his brow in between the stage and the bar. If you could even call it a stage. It was more of a sad corner with an extension cable and a few amps that his grunting bandmates were lugging back into their truck while he very helpfully came over and tried to flirt with the bartender. You were the only bartender. On Friday nights anyways.

"That's because you're unoriginal," his drink was already half made as you flick your eyes up through your lashes at him, knowing he was watching you intently, not that he was particular about how his drink was made by any stretch. "You're actually going to pay for it this time," you slid the glass over to him, "I'm not joking."

"You wound me," he tries his best to give you puppy dog eyes, "but I'm pretty sure Randy mentioned something about drink tickets when we negotiated our new Friday slot."

"That's not a thing," you make up menial tasks behind the bar to keep your hands and eyes busy while he relentlessly chats with you, "never has been. Plus if I keep giving you free drinks you'll get the idea that I like you or something."

Fuck, you told yourself you should stop flirting back with him. Your first excuse had been professionalism, which didn't make a lick of sense considering you were a bar back at this hole in the wall that paid local bands in drink tickets, apparently. Your second excuse had been that as fun as Eddie was to chat with, you hardly knew anything about him other than his loud band and his drink order.

Unfortunately he liked to chat and sooner than later you knew more about him than you wanted to. Your newest excuse? If you kept flirting back with him he might get the idea that he could see you outside of this dingy bar, and you liked the comfort and safety of the three feet of wood separating you, it kept you from doing something you might regret.

"Don't act like you didn't like our set," he threw the rest of his drink back, "I saw you watchin' from over here."

"Yeah, well you're kind of hard to ignore, you know, with the volume and all," your voice had a too-playful tone that you mentally noted to dial back on.

If you were being honest, Corroded Coffin was one of the weekly acts that you didn't entirely mind. Most were groups of middle aged men trying to relive the glory days by booking a weeknight at the Hideout, instruments barely tuned and a setlist that was decades out of style. While Eddie's band certainly wasn't everyone's cup of tea, you found yourself tapping your foot along with their songs more often than not. At least they were original, you’d give them that.

He held his glass up to signal a request for another. "Go help your friends carry all your shit," you swiped the cup from his hand, hating that you focused on how your fingers briefly touched his, "and then I'll make you another. And I'm charging you for both."

"Whatever you say, babe" he spun around three or four times on the bar stool before sauntering off and finally assisting with moving the amps and drum kit. You rolled your eyes, not that he was watching you anymore, but more to keep yourself from checking out how his shirt clung to his torso. His black t-shirt was always a size too small, revealing his tattoo covered arms that you never allowed yourself to stare long enough at to make out what any of them were.

Eddie was nice. As much as you liked to push each other's buttons and joke around, he was a lot more respectful than most patrons that tried their hand at flirting with you. He never said anything gross or disrespectful, not something you could say about most men who've had more than a few beers.

But you didn't want to risk pushing any boundaries with him, because you work here, and his band plays here weekly, religiously. You didn't want things to get weird, and as much as you learned how to avoid certain patrons, there was only so much space between the 'stage' and your station behind the bar.

Despite this, you have his second drink made before he finishes putting his stuff away, and you haven't started a tab for either of them. A big smile stretches across his cheeks when he notices his already-made drink set by his stool as he walks over from the back door. You couldn't help but feel a tiny smile creep up on your face as well.

"Really made me work for this one, huh?" he takes the first sip while still standing before setting back into his seat, "truly amazing service, best I've ever had, really." You glare at him while cleaning some cups absentmindedly with a rag. "Not sure if you can tip on a drink ticket though..."

"Fuck off," you giggle and throw the wet towel at him, "you can't charm your way into TWO free drinks you ass."

"Aww you think I'm charming?" the flirtations between you were always edged with sarcasm, which you both found a lot easier than admitting 'hey you need to stop looking at me like that or else I'm going to keep thinking about pinning you against this countertop.'

"No, I don't, which is why you're PAYING for both those drinks," a lie followed by another lie, and you both knew it. "Where'd your band go?"

"Why? 'm I boring you?" he didn't mind taking up all your attention when the other bar patrons were either too drunk to stand or too old to even notice that a metal band had performed for the past hour. "No one's ever accused Gareth of being more interesting than yours truly. Plus he doesn't drink anyways, so your venture capitalist instincts wont work on him." He raised his drink to punctuate his joke before taking another long swig.

"Ha ha," you don't give him the satisfaction of a real laugh, "I just wanted to make sure you had a ride home in case you try and swindle me into making you a third drink."

"Oh no, I told them all to scram, that I had a hot date with you and my unsettled tab," he leaned over the bar, trying to eliminate as much space between himself and you, "plus I've got a friend coming by to pick me up in a bit. So if you wanted to make me that third drink in exchange for me keeping you company while you close up, I certainly don't have any reason to turn you down."

"Fine," you point at him with a stern finger, "but this one'll be more coke than whiskey."

"Deal," he pointed his finger back at you, moving carefully in so the tips of your pointers touched. This made you genuinely laugh, unable to keep up a wall for too long around him.

He finished his second drink while you ordered last call, and settled up with crumpled cash and mumbled thank you’s from the few remaining drunks. After closing up the cash register you make him that more-coke-than-whiskey drink as promised, and get to wiping down every sticky surface.

"What's your drink?" he asks.

"Hmm?" you glance over from your hunched over position, trying to get the wet rag across the underside of the bar where someone had clearly spilt what appeared to be an entire pint of light beer.

"You know my drink order, I wanna know yours." you stand up straight and look at him.

You consider pushing back and demanding why he wanted to know, but it was late and you only had so many quips left in you, "Gin and tonic with extra lime." You get back to soaking up the spilt mess.

"Woooooow," his drink was finished and he took it upon himself to grab the broom from behind the bar and start sweeping up the bottle caps and tracked in dirt, "and you had the nerve to call me unoriginal."

"I'm not some creative rock and roll guitar guy like you, I don't need to be original, I'm just a bartender," you let him keep sweeping and start checking off other tasks from your closing list.

"You aren't just a bartender, give yourself more credit than that babe," he held up the dustpan full of crap, silently asking where to put it and you hold open a mostly full garbage bag for him to dump it into before tying it off, "judging by your drink order I would also guess that you're, hmmmm, an 85 year old man."

"Oh my god," you slap him on the arm with another half dirty hand towel, "in that case, you're doing voluntary manual labor just to flirt with this 85 year old man, so maybe you need to reevaluate your priorities."

He takes a few steps forward, not quite caging you against the bar, but nearly there. "And how am I doing? Is it working?" He's the closest he's ever been to you, jokingly sliding the broom around your feet, pretending to sweep while maintaining searing eye contact.

As the which-one-of-us-is-going-to-learn-in-first question buzzes around you, an irritating light flickers through the big front window, indicating someone had pulled their car right up to the curb with their high beams on. Eddie scrunches his nose up, and your urge to kiss him somehow grows despite his annoyed expression. "That's my ride."

You give him a small nod, turning your head to try and squint to see who could possibly be picking him up at this hour, but not making out much through the foggy glass. "I suppose I can manage the rest without you," you grab the broom from him, fingers touching for the second time tonight, "see you next week, rockstar."

Eddie wants to do something smooth, a wink or a clever line, but instead nervously gives you a nod and is out the front door before he can give it a second thought. The minute the door closes behind him you let out all the air you had been holding in your chest, both frustrated and slightly relieved. Eddie on the other hand- was bursting with regret and frustration, immediately running his hands through his hair and pulling a cigarette out of his pocket.

"Absolutely not," Steve craned his neck out of his car that always looked like it had just gotten a fresh wax and detail, "at least five feet away from the beemer if you're going to light that."

Eddie rolled his eyes, considering putting the cigarette back into the carton and getting the fuck away from this bar, but ultimately gave in and pivoted on his heel storming back towards the brick exterior and slumping against it as he flicked his lighter and took an aggressively deep pull.

"What's your damage?" Steve moved out of the expensive car, keeping a bit of distance from Eddie but close enough that the two could talk, "That bartender you like wasn't on or something?"

"She's inside closing up now, so keep your fuckin' voice down" he gave Steve a glare and then immediately an apologetic look for being so prickly, "I'm just bad at this shit, man."

"You can't be that bad at it, Gareth and Jeff said the two of you eye fuck across the room every Friday night," Steve shrugs, understanding Eddie's drawback but knowing his friend rarely gives himself the benefit of the doubt.

"Yeah, well, that's not the hard part," Eddie rips his cigarette and presses his wild hair deeper into the brick behind him, exhaling upwards.

You had taken note that Eddie's ride hadn't left yet, so you busied yourself for a minute before deciding who cares if you had to give him an awkward wave on your way across the parking lot, so you locked up and grabbed the trash to take to the dumpster out back before leaving for the night.

You really didn't mean to eavesdrop, but as soon as the back door clicked you heard their muffled conversation from around the corner. Rather than give away your presence with the clanging of the trash you gently set it against the wall and moved forward silently, staying out of sight but well within earshot.

"Flirting is the easy part, she's fuckin' easy to talk to, man" Eddie's voice carried, and you felt guilty but continued to listen, "I don't want to just fuck her though, I want to like, date...her."

"Oh," Steve's voice dropped knowingly, "well that's... good, I guess, that you like her like that."

"Well even if I didn't like her like that and was only looking to fuck her," he sighs out, and you carefully listen while furrowing your eyebrows, trying to make sense of their conversation, "she's gorgeous, and no girl that hot- scratch that no girl at all want's to fuck some mutilated freak."

"Don't call yourself a freak," Steve's voice seems apprehensive.

"Yeah, sure, but you can't say I'm not mutilated." There was a beat of silence, and you didn't have time to think too much about his words before he went off again, voice laced with thick sarcasm, "Oh hey babe, so glad you were able to look past that I live in a trailer park and all my neighbors think I'm a satan worshiping murderer, but I hope you can be cool with my singular nipple and weird lumpy scar tissue, I know it's super hot, you're gonna have to get in line." His voice carried easily far past your hiding spot.

"You're not giving her much credit dude," Steve was still apprehensive to respond, knowing how Eddie got when he started to spiral, "Maybe she's not that shallow."

"It's not that," Eddie's voice started to calm, "I'd just rather take my twenty minutes of flirting after our Friday gigs than risk it and have her look at me like she's sorry for me or something."

With that he snubbed out his cigarette butt with the toe of his combat boots, let out a big sigh, and moved to get into the passenger side of Steve's car. You take a few slow, careful steps back towards the slumped garbage bag and wait until you hear the engine start and see the lights pull out onto the opposite side of the road.

Fuck. Part of you felt incredibly guilty for listening to what was obviously meant to be a private conversation, especially a private conversation about you. But your gears were turning far too fast to get hung up on guilt.

You always felt apprehensive about Eddie because you figured he was a flirt, a player, the kind of guy who talks to all bartenders like that, and you just happened to be the one he flirted with after his Corroded Coffin shows. You never wanted to get too invested in making him smile or waiting around for him to chat you up, because you know how most guys are, especially guys who carry themselves with that much confidence. And you were fucking wrong.

Now fully realizing that the ball is in your court, you need to plan your first move. You decided, Eddie was worth taking the risk.

It was truly a shot in the dark, but if your intuition ended up being a bust then no one would know about your wasted afternoon other than yourself. The following afternoon you drove aimlessly up and down the unpaved residential streets of the trailer park. There were two in town but you had a pretty good feeling that this was the one.

You only started to feel stupid when you got some confused and slightly angry looks from people going about their business, hanging laundry or smoking on their porches, scrunching their noses and trying to make out the unfamiliar car driving in circles around their neighborhood.

Aha! There it was. You knew that your gut could only fail you so many times when it came to Eddie. Exactly what you had been looking for, a big black and blue 1971 Chevrolet van strewn with dents, patches of rust, and, your telltale sign, a homemade Corroded Coffin sticker crookedly placed on the faded chrome of the bumper.

Step one, complete. Step two was contingent on Eddie even being home. The presence of his van had you feeling hopeful.

You attempt to rid yourself of lingering nerves with a deep breath and silent pep talk. You park adjacent to his van and hop out before your legs can convince you not to, and suddenly you've rung the doorbell and are standing with your hands clasped nervously in front of his door.

"Just a minute," you hear him yell from inside, step two, complete, "What're you here for? Cuz I only got weed right now so if you're..." his hollering voice trails off from inside as he catches a glimpse of you through the screen. "Y/n? What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Jeez, hello to you too," you try to lace your voice with the same flirty edge that you always took with Eddie, but you didn't have the comfortable barrier of the bar or the security of being the person serving him his drinks.

"How the fuck do you know where I live?" His tone wasn't quite angry, but it was bordering on more pointed than just confused.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to drop by totally unexpected," you suddenly felt vulnerable, regretting this whole stupid plan, "I can go."

You start to scurry back to your car and hide your face forever, but he cuts you off with, "No, no, just, why are you here?" He softened his voice, and came down the stoop to hover over you on the last step.

"Well," here goes nothing, "last night I felt like we sort of got interrupted." You pause, trying to gauge his reaction, "And I couldn't stop thinking about it, and I didn’t want to wait a whole week to see you again."

"Oh," his face and reaction didn't give you much of a clue as to what he was thinking.

"And," you started filling the empty air with words, as you often did out of anxiety, "I know where you live because I've heard you sing 'fuck everyone in the trailer park, I'll play my music and curse your existance' probably a thousand times, it really wasn’t that hard to figure out where you live."

He let out a chuckle, despite being deep in the throws of processing your earlier statement of feeling cut off. Of course he wanted to see you outside the confines of the musty bar, he just hadn't expected it to be like this, so sudden. "Well that's fair. I’ll give you double points for perception."

"I didn't mean to interrupt your Saturday," you began to reel again, "just wanted to tell you I'd like to hang out with you sometime, preferably not at The Hideout."

"Can sometime be now?" he hopped down from the last step and gave you an inquisitive smile, nose slightly scrunched and giving you butterflies.

"Yeah, sometime can be now. You promise I'm not interrupting anything?" you felt a wave of relief, his energy had fully shifted from confusion to your comfortable flirty banter.

"Just a packed bong and have some laundry I probably wasn't going to do anyways," he suddenly realized he either had to invite you inside, which would be slightly embarrassing given the current state of his trailer, or suggest a secondary location, "you hungry? We can grab lunch or something?"

He offered to drive, and you suggested sandwiches and beer to go for a backseat van picnic. He was relieved that you were down with doing something so casual, no stuffy cafes or overpriced food. If you were more than happy to suggest eating deli counter sandwiches in the back of his clunky van then maybe he had less to worry about than he thought.

The passing moments between you had him realizing he truly didn't know much about you. Your job, how you had no problem snapping back at rude customers, and most recently your favorite drink. He wanted to know more, and quickly did as you had a 'regular' sandwich order and gave him directions to a side street that looked out onto a small lake, explaining that you'd eat lunch out here sometimes when the weather was nice. He parked the van in reverse, letting the back doors swing open, giving you the perfect bench looking out to the scenery to sit back and eat.

"All my years living 'round here, I've never been to this spot," he noted through bites of sandwich wrapped in white paper.

"Yeah, most people know the spot across the lake with the rope swing and all that," you gesture across to where there was a popular jumping rock littered with empty beer cans, "too crowded for me though, it's more peaceful over here."

"Sorry if I was a bit rude earlier," he started, but you quickly cut him off before he could finish his apology.

"No, no," you move your hand over to gently grab his mid gesture, "don't apologize, your reaction was incredibly reasonable."

"I just-' he started but you gave his hand a squeeze, "I really am happy you decided to come by, I didn't want you to think otherwise."

"I'm happy you chose lunch with me over a bong and laundry, that was some tough competition I had," he rolled his eyes at you.

"Don't make fun of me," he nudged your side, "I'm usually pretty wiped from Friday's show and trying to think of clever things to keep up with you, so my Saturday's are usually pretty lazy," your shoulders rubbed against each other, "being a washed up wannabe rockstar and flirting with a girl way out of my league can really do a number on me."

You share a soft giggle but reassure him that playing live music, even if it is only for you and a crowd of five drunks is still pretty cool. "Plus I like that you dress like this all the time, it's not just an act, this is just how you are," you gesture to his ripped jeans and ring clad fingers.

"What did you expect, babe? Surprise me at my trailer to find me in a polo and khakis?" the suggestion alone had the two of you laughing, brainstorming an alternate universe where Eddie was an accountant by day and only let his rocker side loose on Friday nights.

"If you aren't secretly an accountant, what do you do when you're not playing music, if I may ask," you realize this was really one of the first personal questions you'd exchanged, keeping things punchy and surface level until this point.

"Ah, well," he scratches the back of his head, "although I wish the drink tickets we make at The Hideout were enough to cover rent, I work down at the body shop, you know the one down the street from the grocery store? My uncle knew some guys there and hooked me up with a job fixing cars after high school, and it's not too bad, I'm not half bad at it either, so that's where I'm at."

"You just really keep getting better and better, huh?" at first he wonders if your comment is sarcastic, but you continue "So what I'm hearing is you'll look at my rattling engine for free? I know nothing about cars and am always worried the people at the body shop are going to overcharge me."

"I only charge in sandwich dates and drink tickets, so you're in luck," he responds quickly without giving it much of a thought.

You take a second, "What about dinner dates? Maybe movie dates too? Are those acceptable payments for your mechanic expertise?"

"Not usually, but I'll make an exception for you," he responds after a few beats, realizing you wanted to see him again, and not just at the bar.

You both are looking out at the lake, the buzzing energy around you making you nervous to look at each other. So you just tilt your head sideways to rest on his shoulder, "Phew, that's a relief, because I have a lot more of these planned."

"Oh yeah?" he shifts his body towards you, lifting your head from his shoulder and finally meeting his gaze, a stupid grin plastered across his face, he couldn't help it. "Which one of these dates do I finally get to kiss you?" You let out a breathy laugh, half amused by his corny line and half surprised he was being so forward.

"Hmmm, I'm not sure," you pretend to think it over, stringing this out was killing both of you, but you couldn't help but push his buttons a bit more, "I'd say I'm kind of a third date kind of gal."

"Three? As in three from now or three including this one?" He seemed genuinely concerned, causing a genuine laugh to slip through the act you were putting on.

You move your hand to his chest, faces closer than they had ever been. You had always been sucked into his big brown eyes, but now you saw flecks of honey and deep browns that bordered on black in them, faded freckles dotted across his cheeks, a chapped patch on his lower lip that had clearly been the victim of some anxious chewing. "I'll make an exception this time, for you."

He let you make the first move, leaning in and gently pressing your lips to his, soft and slow. You could feel his breath catch in his throat, prompting you to pull back and look at him through fluttered lashes, as your mouth parted slightly to ask him if that was okay, his big ring clad hands cupped the sides of your cheeks and pulled you right back into him, kissing you like he was afraid you'd evaporate if he ever stopped.

The wind was knocked out of you. You couldn't be bothered to breathe when your attention was solely focused on his lips, his tongue, the sharp intake air he sucked in between slotting your top lip down to your swollen bottom one, nipping with teeth and holding your face so close.

After a minute of soft whimpers and exploring the new intimacy you pull back to finally catch your breath, fully ready to ignore the need for oxygen and lean back in when you see his face, rosy and buzzing with excited energy.

"Sorry, if that was kind of a lot," he realized you had given the sweetest peck and he proceeded to practically shove his tongue down your throat.

You however, were already brushing his apology off and leaning in for more, missing the feeling of his big hands cradling your face, sending tingling shockwaves down your body. Before you could lunge back at him and take more of what you wanted, he takes your chin in between his fingers and tilts your head up to his.

"I don't know if you can tell, but I'm sort of crazy about you. And I really don't want to fuck this up, but I've wanted to do that for a really long time.”

He could tell by your pout that you were begging for another kiss, and he couldn't refuse you. You were completely lost in it. Learning that he let out a little gasp when you ran your fingers up into his hair, that he would catch your bottom lip in between his teeth when you started to pull away and he needed more, that you were already completely wrecked for him. You weren't even conscious of the fact that you were now fully seated in his lap, sandwich wrappers and empty cans long pushed aside.

Part of you wanted to wait, to let things build up organically over time and get physically intimate when the moment felt right. But fuck it, the moment felt right now.

Any apprehension or worry of scaring him off dissipated when his thumb ran across your cheekbone, his other strong arm holding you steadily against him, you don't think you could wiggle away if you tried. Swirling in your apprehension you also fought the urge to press your hips down into his and grind against him harder. You wanted to let him take things at his pace and not rush anything, but fuck you could feel his cock getting hard between your legs and it was driving you insane.

He dragged the knuckle of his middle finger up your neck along the curve of your jaw, speaking softly into your kiss, "can I kiss you here?" pressing his touch into the side of your neck.

"You can do anything you want to me," you pant back, slightly embarrassed at how desperately horny that came out.

"Fuck," he groaned out, cock noticeably twitching against his black jeans and into your thigh, "you can't say shit like that to me."

"Sorry, sorry," you try to gain your composure and lift off him slightly, “I-"

He took a hold of your waist and pulled your back down into his lap, diving into the side of your neck and nipping and sucking until he found the spot that made you squeeze your thighs slightly around him. "Anything I want requires a lot more time and space than we have right now, pretty girl." He mumbled into your neck in between kisses, his words making your back arch slightly more into him. "Plus I need to be a gentleman," you rolled your eyes at this.

"Since when have you ever worried about that," you tug his hair back to force him to look at you.

"You really want to know what I want, right now?" he quirked an eyebrow.

"Really, really," you let your weight sink down onto his lap a touch more, feeling the stiff length under his jeans slot between your thighs a bit deeper, making his breath hitch before he could respond.

"I want you to lay back on those blankets up there," he nodded towards the few crumpled up blankets he had shoved behind the driver's seat, "and let me eat your pretty pussy until you're screaming loud enough for the people across the lake to hear."

Whatever you were expecting, it wasn't that.

This unexpected burst of sexual confidence threw you for a loop, as you were fully prepared to be the one making all the big moves. Your mouth hung open slightly, struggling to form a response when all that was swarming through your mind was holy fuck, holy fuck, that was so hot, what the fuck do I say.

Rather than respond with words you just roll off his lap and start moving deeper into the back of his van, propping your torso up on bent arms and sending him back a suggestively raised eyebrow. He swung his legs up over the ledge and took one of the doors with him, sliding into the van and quickly shutting the other as well.

It took a second for your eyes to adjust, the previous sunlight coming in from across the lake was cut off, and the light source now was only coming from the front windows, making things darker but not invisible. You quickly had no trouble making out Eddie's slender form shuffling around and getting situated in between your bent knees, urging you to lay back a bit more and relax as much as your body would allow against the lumpy blanket pile.

"This is okay?" he asks while leaning down to pick up where you had left off a moment ago.

"Yes, fuck," you wiggle up into his form, wanting as much contact as he would allow, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down into your lips.

It all had moved faster than you were used to but fuck if it didn't feel so right. Why did you feel more comfortable with this person you hardly knew than you had with your past few long term relationships? He just had this way of taking your nerves and throwing them out the nearest window.

After sucking on your lower lip until it was puffy and slick he dips his chin into the crook of your neck, dragging his perfect nose up your jugular and nestling into the junction of your neck and ear, licking a stripe all the way. You wanted to desperately buck your hips up into his, but only allowed yourself half the satisfaction of lifting your thigh slightly to give him more space to sink deeper into your slumped form.

When Eddie’s life flashed before his eyes, on more than one occasion- actually- he wasn’t particularly satisfied with what he saw. In the moments before what he assumed was death, his brain searched for the best moments to accumulate and reminisce on before his body succumbed to the untimely demise he was facing. It wasn’t much.

He wished he had more than smiling moments with his D&D club, a few killer performances at the Hideout, no killer audiences, some nights of revelry with his friends, and a few forgettable hookups in dingy bar bathrooms. That couldn’t be it, right?

In the wake of his life flashing, fading, and flashing again, he made more space for good things. After his shows now he let himself think about you, and how much he liked you, let himself try his hand at flirting. Because if he was going to come anywhere that close to death again, he needed more to show for it than a few trysts with nameless girls and an unnerving amount of scar tissue.

So he wasn’t about to fuck this up. If someone came at him with an axe tomorrow, at least he’d have the memory of you splayed out beneath him in the back of his van, lips shiny and cheeks rosy. If his life were to flash before his eyes again it wouldn’t be as bad.

“Do you know how long I’ve thought about this?” he mumbled into your neck, his denim clad thigh pressing perfectly in between your legs. You could only hum back as if to say, “no, tell me.”

“I think you do know,” his teeth grazed upon your earlobe, sending a jolt through your hips and finding solace in the friction between your thighs with his.

“Yeah, I know,” you breathe out, arching your neck down to nudge the tip of his nose with yours, “do you?”

“I didn’t have a clue,” he mumbled into your lips before slipping his tongue against yours, sickly sweet and laced with all the regret of not asking you out sooner.

You let your ankles hook around one another, locking your hips together and earning a deep rumble of a moan from the man trapped. “I recall you mentioning something about the people across the lake hearing me…” you playfully trail off, equal parts confidently flirty and deeply desperate for him to act on his earlier promise.

He had nudged his way down into the neckline of your shirt, licking and nipping at as much of your breasts as he could find, fingertips grazing the waistline of your pants. Part of you wanted to just lay here and let him have his way with you, but the conscious part of your brain recognized the insecurities he expressed in that conversation you weren't supposed to hear, and signaled you to be as forward with him as you could be.

“Fuck,” you struggled to pry your hands between your pressed bodies to reach your jeans button, “Eddie can I take these off, I want to feel you.”

With your hands moved south, you managed to undo the clasps of your jeans while also running your hands upwards towards his shirt, wanting to feel the skin beneath.

It was subtle, but impossible for you to miss, when your fingertips grazed his lower stomach and trailed up his t-shirt his body shifted into a tense state for just a moment. You could have easily missed it. It took all of a millisecond for him to subtly jerk away from you and redirect the attention to your now unbuttoned pants. His hands were dragging the material down your thighs before you had a moment to register the way he averted your touch.

He playfully tossed your bunched up pants over his shoulder, as if they had anywhere else to go other than the three feet of van between him and the doors. After that flashed moment of shyness, you noticed nothing but a playful smirk on his face, smile crinkled at the corners of his cheeks and eyes full of wild mischief.

His hands spread against your thighs, digging his fingertips into as much skin as the width of his palms would allow.

“So fucking perfect,” he drank you in, hardly noticing the moment you pulled your shirt and bra over yourself, but dumbstruck as soon as his eyes caught sight of your reveal.

Knowing he had yet to put his money where his mouth was, he adjusted downwards and let his flushed cheek make contact with your thigh. In that moment he vowed to let the sight of the little damp patch in the center of your cotton panties stay forever in his mind.

He didn’t let a single thought register in his brain before he leaned forward and let his tongue lick a fat strip up the middle of your clothed center, adding dampness to the apparent arousal already there.

“Jesus,” you were slightly taken aback at his action, letting your head fall back, while still lowering your gaze down to where his hooded lids and pink tongue sat in between your thighs.

He reveled in the feeling of being between your thighs, letting his tongue play around the center of your panties for a few strokes before the twitching in your legs signaled that you had had enough of his teasing.

Taking a blissful moment to hook his finger through the crotch piece of your underwear and pull it to the side to reveal your slick center, he simply couldn’t help himself. He pulled back and drank the sight of you in, panties wet with your arousal and his spit pulled to the side and your perfect cunt finally in his sights.

The groan he let out only tripled your level of neediness for him. You let your chest puff up and hips gyrate forward at nothing to signal that you needed him, like, now.

Before you could even think of something snarky to say to get him to get on with it, his entire face was fully buried in you. An involuntary ahhh escaped you as he let his entire tongue press as far into you as space would allow.

“Ohmygod,” all coming out in one breath, “fuckeddie.”

He groaned deeply into you at the feeling of your pussy on his mouth, your taste, how your hips twitched slightly when his nose pressed against your clit. He didn’t even think about all those drunken chats with the boys or stupid cosmo articles he couldn't help but read, eating your pussy didn’t require any thought, he could only feel.

Your sighs were like a song to him, every sharp inhale and subtle whimper, he caught it all and it was the most beautiful music. He let his tongue swirl faster when he heard your breath hitch, gripped your thigh tighter when you let out that beautiful exhale.

“So fucking good for me,” he mumbled into your inner thigh in between licks, fully pussy drunk and ready to stay here forever, “fucking perfect.”

After some selfish exploration, he settled on a steady rhythm against your clit, making your back arch and whines jump an octave.

“Eddie, Eddie,” you groaned, feeling embarrassed how needy your voice already sounded, “can you use your fingers too, please.” Desperate. That’s how you felt, and you couldn't help but be self conscious for any more than a moment, as he immediately headed your request.

Guitar fingers. You fucking knew it. You always found him attractive and charming, but immediately scolded yourself the moment you started speculating about those damn fingers. If he could learn Metallica solos in private, what else could he do?

Curling upwards in that magically delicious motion that had you already seeing stars, he glanced up at you upon entering and was met with the glorious sight of your mouth hanging open and eyes fluttering shut.

You simply couldn’t be bothered by the rickety van floor beneath you, the sad lumpy pillow propped under your head, or the stagnant, vaguely cigarette scented air around you. Nope. No thoughts other than the tightening knot in your stomach and how those pretty brown eyes peered up through too-perfect lashes at you in between sinful strokes.

“Making me feel so fucking good,” you hardly recognized your voice as your own, “please don’t stop, Eddie, please…”

And there it was, euphoric bliss found in the back of a pot dealing metalhead’s van. Your thighs quivered and your brain lost all capacity for thought. All you could feel was the sudden wash of pleasure, the pulsing between your legs, and the tongue and fingers fucking into you as if it was the last thing he ever did.

Writhing, trying to keep your moans down despite his verbalized promise for them to be heard far and wide, you try to control the jerk of your hips and grip on his hair. You rode out your orgasm, far sooner than you would have liked. You wanted to revel in it.

After months of relentless flirting and suppressing your attraction to him, you wish you could have held your orgasm off a while longer. You simply couldn't allow yourself to bask in the velvet of his tongue or the tickle of his bangs on your thighs. You needed it too badly to hold off.

Coming down from your orgasm, a broken moan cracked from you and let him know to slow his roll. In between catching your breath you catch a view of him sucking your release off of his slick fingers, and almost throw yourself at him, beg him to jump your bones. But all you can do is let out a breathy laugh and find the strength to prop yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at him.

“You come?” he asks, slight snark to his voice.

You muster up the energy to bop him upside the head and ruffle his hair along the way. “Fuck off,” you respond, still breathless, “you know I did.”

“I know,” he cocks his head, still admiring your form, your flushed face and rise and fall of every breath, “It’s polite to ask, though.”

“Ah yes, Eddie Munson, most polite man I know,” you flop back onto the mismatched pillows.

“Hey!” he pretends to sound offended but only manages to tug at your heartstrings, “I’ll have you know, that I am a delight.”

“Can’t argue with that,” you reach down to feel your dripping folds before hunching forward to search for your underwear, which haven't traveled too far from his knees on the van floor.

You wanted to return the favor, do more than return the favor, but something about his shift in demeanor and the way he angled his body away from yours slightly to adjust his hard cock in his pants and keep up the too-casual post-orgasm conversation had you thinking it was more than him being too polite to accept your advances.

“Shit, what time is it,” he begins to shuffle towards the front of the van to check the time while you awkwardly gathered your clothes and redressed, fully assessing that whatever fooling around in the back of this van you were doing was officially over.

“I, uh, have a few errands to run,” he sounded apologetic, not like he was making some excuse to get you out of his hair, “I can drop you off, or you can come along for the ride…”

There is was, your affirmation that he was just as desperate to hang onto this moment together as you were.

“I actually have a shift starting pretty soon,” you regrettably admit, “and as much as I’d love to ditch it and be your passenger princess, the Saturday tips are usually the bulk of my rent money so…”

He understood, he hated how much he understood.

“What time do you get off?” He didn’t even try to hide how eager he was to see you again, again in ten minutes, again later tonight, again tomorrow, again as many times as you’d let him.

“Get off? Pretty sure I did that like three minutes ago…” you joke and appreciate his huff of a laugh, “Um, I’m closing, so probably not until like two or three. Don’t worry though, I can give you my number and we can do this again when we’re both free.”

“I’m free later… at two,” his expression was dead serious, “or three, or four, or whenever.” He noticed your brows shoot up and words start to form in your mouth, before you could speak he cuts in, “If you won’t be too tired or anything. I can pick you up?”

“It’ll be pretty late Eds,” you were falling into the trap of his puppy dog eyes, “you don’t need to wait up for me like that, I promise we can see each other again, tomorrow even…”

“Tell me to fuck off if I’m being pushy,” he took your hand in his and mindlessly stroked circles into it with his thumb, “but I’m sort of a night owl, not big on the whole sleeping thing anyways, and I’d love to pick you up from work later.”

“Okay,” you agree, the soft earnestness of his voice snared you, and considered the magic he had just worked between your legs, who were you to say no. The glimmer in his eye and quirked smile at your response had you wishing you had said more than ‘okay,’ wondering what kind of look you would have gotten from a ‘yes, please,’ or ‘I’d love that.’

He drove you back to his trailer, not letting go of your hand during the ride, not even to turn up the music at his favorite parts. He offers to follow you back to your place, insisting that waiting for you to shower and change into work clothes and then drop you off at the Hideout was “on the way” to these supposed errands he had to run.

You roll your eyes but start to accept that this is the kind of guy Eddie is, insincerity undetectable when he makes these offers. You invite him in, but he opts to wait outside with a cigarette, pacing a bit and then forcing his legs and mind to still by waiting in the drivers seat.

“Hey hot stuff,” he wolf whistles as you exit your apartment, dressed in your usual black shirt and jeans for work, apron balled up in your bag to put on once you arrive.

He’s sweet, and sincere. As much as you liked the jab banter between the two of you at the bar, you think you might prefer his sarcastic jokes mixed with sweet compliments and longing gazes more. Not that you weren’t getting that from him at the bar before, there were plenty of longing gazes there too, but now the shared glances are heavy with the knowledge of what his tongue feels like on your cunt.

A sloppy, exaggerated kiss on the cheek and a ‘go get ‘em tiger’ sends you off into the bar, where your hands will be pouring cheap liquor for the next several hours but your mind will be solely occupied with what your post-work date with Eddie entails.

The drink special of the night was a mix of anxious anticipation and lustful yearning, shaken too aggressively and served with sunsteady hands. Luckily the Saturday rush kept you mostly focused on vodka sodas and Guinness pours, wiping down sticky surfaces and making change for impatient customers.

You had assistance behind the bar, and that also meant assistance closing up, finally allowing yourself to start peeking through the window to see if Eddie held up on his promise. Of course he had. He’d been waiting in the lot, scoring a few sales from exiting patrons who knew him previous deals, since long before the bar closed.

You wipe your sweaty palms onto your apron and ball it up into your bag before bounding across the parking lot towards Eddie, who always seems to have this effortless charisma buzzing around him, a cigarette dangled from his pretty lower lip and posture just slouched enough to still be sexy. Maybe you were biased at this point.

He pulls you in by your waist, angling his chin up to blow the smoke up into the sky rather in your direction.

“How was work?” Your cheeks were already starting to grow hot at the feeling of his pinky finger landing on the strip of skin between your shirt and jeans, “Miss me?”

“Bartending’s a lot easier when I don’t have your nosy ass pestering me for free drinks,” you cock your head at him, silently asking for a drag of his cigarette, which he immediately understands and complies, “wasn’t too bad though, happy it’s over,” you exhale.

“If you’e hungry there’s some fries and a milkshake by the passenger’s seat,” he let you slip from his grasp to spin around towards the van door.

“For me?” you peek through the window, realizing he didn’t just mean extras from his dinner earlier, he had gone out of his way to pick you up a post-work snack.

“Unless you aren’t hungry,” he moves to hop in the drivers side, “In which case you can practice tossing fries into my open mouth while I drive.”

You let a few fries fly across the car seat in his general direction, feeding him the occasional one directly, but inhaling most of them shortly after you peeled out of the parking lot.

“D’you want me to bring you home, or…” you knew where he was headed with this, a nervous edge to his voice.

“We can hang out back at your trailer if that’s okay,” you say mid-fry, “as long as I can take a quick shower I don’t mind chilling there.”

He grins like a giddy schoolgirl and grips the steering wheel just a touch tighter, and drives just a bit faster back to the trailer park. As anxious as you felt during your shift, you can’t be bothered to overthink with Eddie leaning towards you with his tongue lolling out of his mouth, making googly eyes at the shake you were downing as his way of asking you for a sip.

He put the van into park before the wheels had even come to a complete stop, hustling around the front to make sure he was the one to open your door. He had spent some of the time you were away straightening up his trailer for the first time in a good long while. Empty beer cans were cleared and he even changed the bed sheets. It still wasn’t the Ritz or anything, but at least he can say he tried.

He tried to busy himself with locking the door behind you after entering, not wanting to see if your eyes drifted over to the mess of records and smoking pariphenelia that cluttered the coffee table, or the chance that the mixture of heavy metal and nerdy posters strewn about would draw a judgmental reaction.

When he let his gaze drift back to you, you weren’t looking at any of that. You were looking right back at him, already leaning up on your toes and asking, “Can I kiss you again?”

A mumbled “of course” had you wrapping your arms around his neck and melting into his touch, finding his lips already on yours before you could go in for the kill.

The kiss started off French-fry-and-strawberry-shake flavored, smiling into his lips as the anticipation of seeing him again after only a few short hours slips away.

“Thank’s for spending so much time with me today,” you whisper in between sticky sweet kisses, “and for the fries and-“

He took your cheeks in his hands and smushed your lips into his mid-sentence, pulling back to see the puckered fish face he held between his hands.

“You’re welcome,” his big button eyes bore straight through you, as if he saw all of you and more, “but you don’t have to thank me, I like being with you, and I ended up eating most of the fries anyways,” he trails off, cheeks rosy and lips slick from your claim on them.

“You wanted to shower?” He cuts himself off, and feels stupid for it. He knew he could keep kissing you and kissing you and kissing you, and the only thing holding him back was his anxious brain and big mouth.

“Oh, yeah,” you were a little surprised that he remembered, and chose to bring it up now, “if you don’t mind. I always feel a little sticky after work, you know, with the Hideout’s C health rating and all.”

With a smile that nearly knocked the air out of you, he took a deep bow like some silly court jester and motioned down the trailer’s only hallway. You took your lead and followed his outstretched arm, figuring there were only so may doors that could possibly lead to a bathroom.

“Oh, shit, wait,” you hear him scramble behind you, shuffling past into the door you assume to he his bedroom, emerging milliseconds later with a crumpled towel in his balled up hand, “you’re gonna want this.”

“Thank you,” you’re slow with your movements, wondering how he was acting so squirrelly, like a middle school boy around the girl he wanted to take to the dance, even though he had you fully spread out begging for him in the back of his van only hours earlier, “is the shower big enough for two?”

You meant it equally suggestive and genuine, knowing full well that not all showers are built for partner bathing. However, the fear stricken look that washed across his face for a millisecond before scrunching up and setting to neutral had you thinking you had just asked if there was a built in hot tub or something like that. His mouth hung open and for a moment that conversation you weren’t supposed to hear replayed in your mind, maybe you had to take this slower than he was willing to let on.

“Just looking for someone to massage my scalp, that’s all,” you try to jokingly play it off, keeping your invitation open but concealing it with a joke to double back on just in case.

“Yeah, it’s- uhhh,” Eddie, who was always quick with a comeback was suddenly lost for words, “It’s the size of a normal shower, yeah.” It’s not like he could lie, all you had to do was turn around and size it up for yourself.

You take the towel from his white knuckled grip and pivoted towards the door that was close to having burn holes from where his laser focused eyes were shot. You give him a wink over your shoulder, figuring that was enough of an invitation and vague enough of an excuse for him to leave depending on what he wanted. You hated this line you were towing, knowing more than you should- yet still feeling so in the dark.

He was right, it was a normal sized shower. A bathtub with a sliding door and a detachable shower head with only one working setting. There was a rack with three-in-one and a bar of dove soap, which should have annoyed you but made you giggle instead. You let a quarter sized drop of the generic body wash slash shampoo slash conditioner lather into your hands when you heard the bathroom door creek open, purposefully left unlocked.

“Hey, is it okay I’m in here?” He sounded so genuine in his concern, unknowing you were on the verge of begging him to get in the shower with you.

“Yeah,” you borderline shout over the running water, “here to help massage my scalp?” You let your tone stay light and joking despite being deadly serious.

“Wow I didn’t realize your hands were really that delicate and incapable,” he tried to match your energy, but an anxious edge remained present.

“I mean,” you searched for your words, “I’ve seen you play Metallica, I know those fingers could surely get this pine scented crap deep into my roots.” You let the suggestive comment linger, nervous after a beat of silence passed.

“If you really need my help,” you heard him shuffling around , “who am I to turn a damsel in distress away?”

You felt your cheeks get rosy and shoulders wiggle with excitement as you caught the shower door jerk open. Your face was towards the shower head, and you only turned a quarter of the way around before Eddie stepped in behind you and those guitar-string-calloused-hands gripped your shoulders and twisted you back towards your view of the water stream.

“I’m gonna make you a deal,” his voice was coated with as much charisma as he could muster, his worries only poking through enough for you to notice, “I’ll give you the full treatment, but you can’t turn around.”

You were willing to play along with about any game he suggested. If he asked you to bend over backwards you’d extend your spine as far as it could go.

You stood with your front as straight towards the shower head as you could, only feeling his presence behind you and his gentle hands lay on your shoulders to assure you wouldn’t turn around.

“Just let me take care of you,” he edged closer, letting you feel his naked body enter your space, his face craning over your shoulder to gauge your reaction, “Just stay like this and let me feel you.”

It was less of a question and more of a plea, the only thing more pathetic sounding was the whimper that slipped out of you when you felt his body press against your back, warm and hesitant to press all the way into you, but close enough for you to feel his skin.

“Okay,” you let your head lull back onto the space between his collar bone and shoulder, keeping your eyes closed, not that you could see anything from this angle anyways, “I’ll stay just like this, promise.”

“I just-“ you could hear his walls come up, suddenly trying to find the words to explain himself to you, “I’m not-“

“Eddie,” you whisper, eyes fluttering open to glance up at him as much as you could, “it’s okay. I’ll stay just like this, I’m just happy to be here with you.”

You gently found his hands resting at your hips and guided them up to your soapy scalp, “We both know the real reason I called you in here anyways,” you joked, and angled your head straight forward so he could run the pads of his fingers all through your 3-in-1 coated hair.

He let out a light chuckle at your joke, nearly feeling it catch in his throat as all the passed time of insecurity and locking his feelings away welled up and shattered with the intimacy of washing your hair. What did he do to deserve having you like this? For you to understand and want him to stay anyways?

As much as his emotions clouded his vision and stunted his breathing, the rush of blood in between his legs broke his internal monologue. As overwhelmed as his mind was, his body couldn’t be convinced to focus on anything other than the sudsy girl pressed up against him, letting out little noises of satisfaction as he let his fingers absentmindedly massage away.

“This’s nice,” you lean back into him a bit, “it’s like masturbating, you know? Always feels better when someone else does it for you.” You didn’t feel too guilty about the sexually charged comment, considering the fat rod that was pushing into your lower back.

He let out a short chuckle, but his breathing was rapidly turning heavy as the air clouded with steam and your wet body rubbed against him, fully arching into his erection as if you wanted to get a better feel.

“Can I wash the rest of you?” his request is polite, but his voice is lust filled and bordering on begging.

You hum in agreement and lift your arms to let him slip his hands around you, one crossing your chest and the other reaching around to get more gel, “It technically is shampoo and body wash, and I was promised the full treatment here.”

As much as you wanted to keep joking with him, finding silly things to comment on to break the tension, your resolve was quickly going down the drain as his big hands lathered you up.

“You’re so beautiful,” his voice is just audible over the rushing of the shower water, “I’ve always thought so, but now I fucking know it.”

His warm breath against your ear manages to cut through the heat of the steam, making you shiver despite it all. “Eddie,” you whine, his hands running up and down your torso, spending more time on your chest than the rest, but surely showering you in as much attention as his hands could reach.

Knowing that tone from earlier, already committing to knowing your body as intimately as you’ll allow him to, he immediately gives in and touches you exactly where you want him most.

Most of the bubbles had dissipated, and he held you close to him, with one hand splayed across the center of your chest and the other dipping down to run two fingers through your now parting legs.

He could feel the slick of your folds, standing out from the water cascading down your body, so warm and wet in a different way.

“Fucking hell,” he groans out, letting his hips roll forwards slightly to find some friction against your backside, sliding his fingers from your hole up to your clit a few experimental times before letting his middle and ring fingers dip into you.

When he had gone to town on you earlier in his van, which somehow felt like a million light years ago, you had taken a keen interest to the way his metal rings brushed up against your inner thighs and lower lips when he slipped his digits into you. As much as you had reveled in that new sensation, he had taken all his jewelry off along with the rest of his clothes and reservations before joining you in the shower. And now you could grind down onto his hand until he was completely buried to the hilt of his knuckles, no demon heads or upside down crosses in your way.

You wanted to wiggle and writhe around, feeling a bit week in the knees and desperate to buck your hips down against his pumping fingers. He pressed your chest tighter against him, lips pressed up against your ear, “I thought you promised to be good and stay still for me.”

He could feel your pussy clench at that, letting out a satisfied chuckle and plunging his fingers right back into your cunt, letting the meat of his palm massage your clit in perfect time.

“S’ this what you wanted,” his voice had the full bodied confidence of a man who didn’t just ask you to not turnaround to see him without a shirt on, “for me to be all sweet and wash your hair, then make you cum on my fingers like the dirty girl I know you are?”

The smallest fraction of you wanted to be a brat and joke back at his silly use of shower innuendo, but your mind was almost entirely committed to the feeling of his hands on you and his dick rutting Into the meat of your ass.

“Eddie,” you could barely squeak his name out, “Eddie, can I touch you too, please? Please?” While his voice had been pleading before, you were literally begging to get your hands on him.

“Like this,” you manage to open your eyes, head still resting against his shoulder and your hand snaking back to where his cock pressed into you, not fully grabbing it but motioning towards it with your hand.

He snatches your wrist up with the hand not occupied with your tightening pussy, and for a second you fear that you had crossed a boundary.

As much as you were willing to comply with not looking, you were bursting at the seams to touch him, make him feel good, show him how much you wanted to be right here with him and nowhere else.

Before your mind could race any further, come to a screeching halt and apologize, he guides your hand up underneath your chin and demands “Spit.”

Your short circuiting brain dashes from his fingers, remaining crooked inside of you, his request, and the tone of voice he used to ask. You were fucked. Drool leaks from your lips before you even have the chance to process his words other than the immediate feeling of oh fuck yes.

He brings your spit coated hand back to reach around, allowing you to wiggle it in between your wet bodies and find his eager cock already arching into your touch.

He only faltered for a moment, the consistent dizzying pace of his fingers inside you stuttered the moment he felt your slick palm take an experimental stroke. The moan he let out was involuntary, along with a breathy “Oh, shit.”

Obviously you couldn’t size him up visually, but the weight of him in your palm was enough to have your mouth watering and thighs squeezing his wrist a bit tighter. Uncut? Maybe? With a pretty patch of curls to match his mop top?

“Just like that, please,” you whine out into the steamy air, the two of you finding a joint rhythm between your hands and subtly rolling hips.

“Your pussy feels so fucking good, so warm and tight for me,” every other word slurred into the curve of your neck.

“You’re gonna make me cum,” you try and match his increasing speed with your hand, “Eddie, please don’t stop, I’m-“

“Shhhh,” he was getting lost in it too, “I’ve got you.”

Your legs turn to jelly, but he keeps you steadily upright with his support on your chest, focusing entirely on you despite the welling orgasm of his own rapidly approaching.

It’s the crack in your voice that pushes him forward, the high pitched breathy moans crumbling and releasing the noises of pleasure from deep within your chest. His name mixed in with ahhhs and uhhhs as if his name is the only word you know in this moment.

“That’s right,” a sense of confidence welled in him as your limp body twitched against his and your cunt squeezed his relentless fingers, “cum all over my hand, doing so good for me.”

Despite your orgasm wracking your brain and body succumbing completely to whatever Eddie was willing to give you, the thought of collapsing into the shower floor never crossed your mind. He held you so close and steady against his chest, it crosses your mind that you may not be putting any weight onto your feet at all by this point.

Rather than catch your breath as you come down from your quaking orgasm, you slip deeper into the throws of pleasure, biting your lip and craning your neck backwards so he can see the fucked out expression on your face. A few more steady, enthusiastic pumps mixed with a desperate kiss, wet and at an awkward angle, breathless and needy, perfect and dizzying, sends Eddie over the edge with you.

The deep rumble of his chest against your back as he groans into your open mouth, encourages you to keep your pace as he gently fucks himself into your hand. He’s spilling into your hand and halting his wiggling fingers buried inside you, letting the momentum that the two of you had built up come to a pulsing end.

The two of you stay tangled in each other for a moment, hands sticky and brows dewy with sweat despite the running water, which had long lost its heat and now settled at a less than comfortable lukewarm. Neither one of you wanted to move. Eddie would have stayed there until his legs cramped and the shower turned ice cold.

His eyes were screwed shut, head tilted back, still holding you close until you wiggled from his iron grip to bring your cum covered fingers up to your lips to suck two of them clean.

“Jesus Christ,” he was thankful that he had opened eyes in enough time to witness that, “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me, you know that?”

You let out a mischievous giggle with his cum coated fingers still in your mouth, glancing over your shoulder to catch the look on his face. Equal parts hungry to pick you up and fuck you against the shower wall right now, and melting down to nothing and slipping away down the drain, unable to even start comprehending what had just transpired between you two.

You let your fingers go with a pop and turn back around, “Don’t act like you weren’t going to do the same,” you let the chilling water hit your face, focusing on anything other than turning around and lunging at him, wrapping your body around his and letting your skin melt into his.

He gives into temptation and lets his pruny fingers meet his tongue. He knew what you tasted like from your escapade in his van eaierler, but he’d seize any change he got to take in as much of you as he could.

“That was,” he started, unsure how to sum how he felt, good, great, perfect, none of those words felt correct, “fuck, yeah- that,”

“Me too,” you press your back into his again, “Thank you Eddie.”

Before he can stumble over his words any more, you ask if he’s okay for you to shut the water off, and you ask if he’d be willing to spare some sleep clothes for you to borrow. You curiously stay in the shower while he takes your excuse for him to leave unseen.

After toweling off and slipping into the old t-shirt and boxers he left folded up on the counter for you, you found him already dressed and in bed, set criss cross and packing a bong.

“Post-shower-orgasm smoke, cuddle, then sleep?”

“I’d love nothing more,” you get cozy among the pillows and let the swirling smoke and easy conversation lull you into a comforting half sleep.

An easy energy settled between the two of you, a silent understanding that you weren’t going to ask him questions, and a building comfort that made him almost ready to show you.

You slept tucked into his side, and didn’t even mind his snoring or tossing in the night. Every time he rolled over, your sleeping form just found a new way to mold into him. It was the best he had slept in months.

A steady stream of sunlight blazing directly through the blinds and into your eyes pulled you from your slumber, gorging your groggy eyes to open and crunched up limbs to search for room to stretch. The involuntary fluttering of your eyes and long extension of your libs was far beyond your control.

“Oh!” You whisper out to yourself once your brain manages to catch up with your waking body, realizing the somewhat compromising position the night had thrown you into, your leg hiked up and clinging to Eddie’s waist, with both your arms scrunching up his t-shirt and leaving a strip of stomach exposed.

A negligible, unnoticeable few inches between where his sweatpants hung low on his hips and where your gripping arms had balled up his hole-ridden t-shirt stood before your gaze.

You didn’t mean to stare, and the moment you caught yourself doing so, you quickly and quietly removed your tangled limbs from his and repositioned yourself so that he was half spooning you, eyes facing far away from his unintentionally exposed scar tissue.

You knew it was probably going to be worse than you were expecting. You hadn’t dedicated much thought to what it could be, or what maybe had happened. You just knew it made him feel like he wasn’t worth your time, and you needed to make him feel seen and safe enough to know that that couldn’t be true.

Everyone has insecurities, sure. There are surely parts of yourself you weren’t eager to share with the world, let alone someone you’re romantically interested in. You had moved past being astonished that someone who wore gaudy costume jewelry and sang boisterous music for a bar of twelve patrons with the energy of someone who had sold out Madison Square Garden would ever shrink into their shell the way you had seen Eddie. Now, laying in his bed and knowing that whatever it was, the scars were more than what was on his skin.

“Mfffmmm,” he groans and shifts behind you, wiggling beneath the sheets and snaking his arms to wrap around your waist and pull you close into him, “This is nice.”

His morning voice was scratchy and barely above a whisper.

“I think you just like that my butt is all pressed up on you,” you joke, dodging admiring that you’d rather be here than anywhere in the world in this moment.

“Yeah, I’m not complaining,” he digs his nose into the side of your neck, “But you smell nice too, ’s nice to wake up to.”

“That 3-in-1’s really doing it for ya?”

“No, you do smell like that a little, but more just like yourself. Girl smell.”

“I’ll get started on that perfume line right away. Girl Smell. Might be a million dollar business venture.”

“I just woke up,” the sleep in his voice melted away and his hands running up and down your sides were more deliberate, “Don’t make fun of me. Plus I’ve got a pretty girl in my bed making me all nervous.”

“Anyone with magic fingers like you has nothing to be worried about,” you keep the conversation playful but allow the unspoken truth, that he truly has nothing to worry about with you, be spoken.

“You just like ‘em cuz I washed your hair so well,” he plays with a strand, letting his finger pads dig into your scalp and scratch away, massaging a bit harder after you let out a satisfied groan.

“You must have lots of practice,” you reach an arm back blindly and half smack the side of his shoulder before finding his messy bedhead, staying resolutely facing the poster-covered wall.

“You’ve got really pretty hair for a boy,” you let your finger wrap around a curl.

“For a boy?! Excuse me, I have pretty hair period.”

“Yeah, suppose that’s true” you giggle at his joking defensiveness, “It’s incredible that it’s this nice considering you use the same thing to condition your hair as you do to wash your balls.”

“If you show me what kind of shower products you like I’ll replace the three in one,” he nuzzles his face into the hand playing with your hair, “but maybe the three in one is what’s keeping it so luscious.”

“I wanna wash your hair next time,” you say absentmindedly, meaning it wholeheartedly, with little anxiety after that you had implied a next time.

“Yeah maybe next time,” his voice trailed off, still soft and flirty but edging on a tone that let you know this conversation was just about over.

“Eddie,” it came out as hardly more than a whisper. You wait for him to respond but the gravity of the silence between you quickly became unbearable and you needed to break whatever tension this was.

“I meant it yesterday when I said I wanted to go on more dates with you. You know that right?”

“Mhmm” he mumbles into your shoulder, still holding you against him.

“We have a lot of fun at the bar and stuff,” you search to find your words, “But I want you to know that I don’t just like you cuz you make me laugh and have magic guitar fingers. I like pretty much everything about you so far, and I want to know you more if you’ll let me.”

Your voice wavers, and your message is perhaps more vague than you would have liked, but the deep exhale he lets out conveys that he hears you loud and clear.

“I know I’ve been…” he starts, “It’s just that I…”

“It’s okay Eddie,” you flip around, rolling so that your chests are pressed together and noses are almost touching, “I don’t want to push it. You can tell me when you’re ready, I just want you to know that I like you a whole lot and I don’t think there’s much that could change that right now.”

His eyelashes flutter shut, forehead touching yours, “Thank you.”

“Unless you have a huge chest tattoo of something wildly offensive, or like a tramp stamp that says ‘I heart Ronald Regan.” He appreciates your natural ability to make him laugh even in situations like this.

“Nah,” he pulls back and gives you a serious look, “Fuck Ronald Regan.”

The two of you burst into a fit of giggles, rolling deeper into the sheets and settling into a comfortable cuddle again, with your head on his chest, face angled up to his and legs all tangled up.

Coming down from the beginnings of the conversation that had been lingering above both of your heads, you place a few reassuring kisses up his jaw and find your way up to his parted lips.

“Mmmm,” he hums into the deepening kiss to signal you to stop, “I probably have mega morning breath,” he huffs into a cupped hand which makes you laugh and flop your head back into his chest.

“It’s okay, if you do then I do too and didn’t notice,” you peek back up at him, “But if you want to brush teeth and get your day started I won’t stop you.”

“No, no,” he grabs your cheeks and pulls you back up for a smushed kiss, “I wanna stay here all day with you, if you’ll let me. Our second date, we can order a pizza and watch movies here, won’t even have to put pants on.”

“That sounds really nice, I don’t have work today so I’m all yours.”

“All mine,” his grin reaches the apples of his cheeks, “I will go brush my teeth though, cuz I think this second date involves a lot of kissing.”

“Got a spare I could use?” you shuffle out of bed before situating yourself on the edge of the bed, “Or do you brush with three in one too?”

“Oh my god,” he chuckles, “you with the three in one. After today I promise there will be three separate shower products stocked and ready for your use.”

He manages to find a spare toothbrush in the closet and keeps you wrapped in his arms while both of you take turns spitting into the sink. Looking at the two of you, eyes still crusty from sleep, in the scratched up bathroom mirror, a weird sense of domesticity washes over the two of you.

Eddie realizes that less than 48 hours ago he was too nervous to make a move to kiss you, and now he was already thinking about making room for your toiletries in his bathroom.

As comforting and easy it was to do normal everyday things with you at his side, he couldn’t help but notice your nipples poking through his oversized t-shirt you slept in and the way your toothpaste full mouth was framed by your perfect, spit slicked lips.

“You got a spit kink or something?” You half joke, pressing your ass into the growing rod you could feel nudging against your side.

“Sue me,” he spits and wipes the corners of his mouth, pulling you by the waist into a minty kiss. “Bed? All day?”

“Mhmm,” you agree and lean in to kiss him again, standing on your toes and letting out a shriek of surprise when he scoops you up bridal style and travels the short distance to his bedroom.

“Eddie!” You yelp out as he gently tosses you back into the pile of sheets.

“I know I’m no Hulk Hogan, but moving guitar amps is pretty good strength and conditioning.”

“Shut up, you never help your friends carry the equipment.” You think of all the times you watched his poor bandmates lug their equipment after a show while he seamlessly flirted with you.

“Not when you’re around, you’ve got me there.”

As promised the two of you laze around all morning, bowls of cereal in bed and a bowl of weed to accompany it, switching between fits of giggles and tangled in the sheets while a B horror movie plays on the little TV set propped up near the end of Eddie’s bed.

He tells you about how he used to live with his Uncle in a trailer down the street until he saved up enough to start renting his own, the three attempts to finish high school and the relief when the local mechanic shop hired him despite his reputation around town as a satan worshiper. He talks a bit about his friends, some who’ve stayed in town and others who’ve long moved away.

You listen attently, taking in every spared detail. In return he asks you about where you’re from, why the hell you had moved to a bumfuck town in Indiana to be a bartender. He assures you that you wouldn’t have liked him if you had known each other in high school and you laugh and tell him you were far from popular yourself.

After inhaling a large pizza and running out of VHS tapes you demand a “post pizza bloated cuddle” to which he happily obliges.

“Wish we could do this every day,” he pulls you into him.

“Then we’d need a much bigger movie selection, and maybe body doubles to go do our jobs,” you don’t disagree, although lazy and uneventful the day felt perfect.

“Don’t wanna go to work tomorrow,” he whines, holding you a little tighter.

“Me either, but we can’t be in this lazy cuddle bubble forever,” his hands came up to massage and scratch your scalp, which he now knew you loved, “but next time we’re both free maybe we can have that third date.”

“If I remember correctly, date three is when I finally get to kiss you,” he jokingly smooches behind your ear and down your neck.

“Only if you behave,” you reply sarcastically, “you’ve been such a gentleman lately, but you’ve been pushing it mister.”

“I’ve never been accused of being a gentleman before,” his voice trails off as he buries his nose into your neck, “Will you let me be a gentleman now, make you feel good?” His tone was suddenly dripping with lust, sending a rush of arousal through your already so-relaxed body.

“Mhmm,” you agree and let your body mold back into his a bit more, pressing yourself against him and letting his hands start to wander.

You arch your neck around from your spooning position and search for his lips, your kiss starting out gentle but not staying that way for very long.

“You’re just somethin’ else,” he breathes out in between heated kisses, his eyes big and round, earnest, making your heart swell.

“Can I make you feel good too?” you roll your hips into his erection, your breath catching in your throat when you feel it pulsing under his boxers and pressing into the space between your legs.

You flip around to straddle him, not hiding your intention to grind yourself down onto his covered cock, moans from both of you interrupting the hungry exchange of tongues and lips.

A shaky breath grabs your attention and he finds the air to exhale out, “Can I fuck you?”

You bring your hands to his cheeks to pull him into a deep kiss, continuing to rock your hips against him, giving him words as well you mumble a “Fuck yes, please, please Eddie.”

He finds the hem of your shirt and slips it over your shoulders, the momentary break in kissing makes you whine. He immediately makes it up to you by paying delightful attention to your exposed chest, leaving sloppy wet kisses on every inch of skin he had access to, “fuck”s and “so perfect” breaking them up.

You instinctively reach down in between the two of you to take his hard cock into your hand, still pressing your core against it, but taking the rest into your hand to stroke him over his boxers, the choked out moan that escapes him is the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard.

You’re losing yourself in the feeling of his weight in your palm, sitting up to see his gorgeous fucked out expression, pinched eyebrows and flushed cheeks.

He swore he’d died and gone to heaven, despite all his sins, with you above him, lip tucked in between your grinning teeth as you rubbed up on him. Fuck, there was no going back after this.

You lean down to resume making out for a moment, missing the feeling of his nose pressed into the side of yours and his too-perfect eyelashes brushing the tops of your cheeks.

“We can, um-“ you catch your breath, hips stuttering as you find your words, “I can turn around. Or we can make a blindfold or something.”

His heart swelled at the thought that amidst fucking yourself against his lap you still had the courtesy to think of his comfort, his obvious insecurity, the elephant in the room that he was so desperately trying to shoo away.

“I want you,” his voice strangely steady, “and I’ll let you have me, no stipulations.”

You nod with a “Please.”

“Only because, I plan on fucking you every chance I get,” his tone makes you clench your thighs, “So we might as well rip this bandaid off now, because if you’re going to be my girlfriend I don’t want you worrying that I’m hiding something from you.”

He flips you over so you’re now laying beneath him, eyes still glassy with lust and mind swirling with the words he’s just let out.

“I’m gonna take off my shirt now, and I don’t want you to pretend like everything is fine, or that you don’t notice anything, because that’ll be a thousand times worse, okay? I know it’s bad. It doesn’t hurt or anything, but I know it’s not easy to look at.”

With that he pull this black t-shirt off by the back neck collar, and bares his soul to you. You can tell he’s examining your face for a reaction, very carefully managing your facial expressions for his benefit.

He was right, it wasn’t easy to look at. Only because it made you wonder what horrible thing had happened to leave half of his torso, hip, thigh, and what you could only assume traveled onto his back as well, left entirely torn away and scarred.

“And-“ he cut off your wandering eyes with his words, “Don’t ask what happened. I’ll tell you eventually I just- We can’t have that discussion if we’re about to have sex.”

You nodded with understanding, you knew better than to ask.

You think that your snooping and seed of knowledge helped hide some of your shock, his comment about missing a nipple dampening your realization that he was telling the truth, the scar tissue running so deep that his entire pec was covered in a jagged pink , slightly mishapen scar tissue, and leaving his opposite nipple to stand alone on his chest.

The one thing that did leave you in a bit of shock was half of a tattoo on his hip that abruptly ended where the scar tissue started. Some sort of zombie head, the black ink lines all coming to a halt when’re his skin had been injured.

You let a tentative hand come up, fearing he’ll flinch away, but he doesn’t. You touch his chest, feeling the textural difference as you let your palm run across his chest and down to his hip.

“You know, I still think you’re super hot, right?” You try to assure him, but he only lets out a dry chuckle.

“I mean it,” you sit up a bit, pulling your hand from its exploration of his skin and bringing it to your own chest, using three fingers to cover your left nipple, “you’d still like me, right?”

The softness in his face almost made you jump up to wrap him into a hug, you wanted him to know that everything was okay and he was safe with you, whatever happened was in the past and he didn’t have to worry. Although the moment was emotionally charged, neither of you could ignore the fact that you were both ravenously horny for each other.

“I’m sorry you felt like you had to hide this from me,” you pull his face down to yours, “but I’m glad you showed me, because I’m so fucking ready for you to ruin me.”

He lurches forward and lets his body weight collapse down onto you, your legs widening to wrap around his hips, arm and legs locking him against you.

Feeling his bare chest pressed against yours, lips on your neck and hips rutting into your spread legs, has your head spinning.

“Please Eddie,” you whine, “let me feel you.”

Without missing a beat he shoves the waistband of his boxers down just enough to reach his thighs, hard dick springing free in the little space in between you, and he snatches your wrist and shoves it in between your bodies without unlatching his lips from your collar bone.

“Oh fuck,” you couldn’t see what you were grasping, just like in the shower, but you didn’t dare push him off of you to catch a glimpse. He was all over you, hands tangled in your hair, groans and whimpers hardly making their way out in between the wet sloppy kisses he spread across your neck and chest.

He slips a hand down your body, gracing your ribcage with his fingertips, a stark contrast to how they suddenly part your lips and rub the pool of slick from your hole up to your clit.

“So wet, this for me?” He quirks and eyebrow and sinks a digit into you, causing your mouth to open and hips to wiggle up to ask for more.

“Yes ’s for you,” you breathe out, wanting to give him some pushback, wipe the smug look off his face, but not finding an ounce of courage to do so. You just let your head lull back and eyelids flutter shut as he curls his fingers perfectly inside you. “All for you.”

You use your free hand to push your underwear as far down your hips as this position will allow, not wanting to shift your focus from the feeling of him on your lips, his pulsing cock in your hand.

“Need you,” you gasp out, partially at the feeling of his knuckle deep fingers buried inside of you, and equally the fucked out look on his face looming over yours, eyes blown wide and mouth parted on the verge of begging for more, “Eddie, need you to fuck me, please.”

He sits up and removes his fingers from you, earning a wince and a whine. He helps crunch your legs up to remove your panties, leaving your legs raised and crossed over one of his shoulders. He takes a moment to kiss your ankle and tenderly run his hands down the length of your leg. He took the moment to take off his own boxers, leaving you both bare in front of each other for the first time.

“You’ve got a pretty cock,” you complement him earnestly, it was pretty. He gave you a halfhearted scoff and an eyeball in return. “No Eds, I mean it. It’s big too, good thing you got me ready with your fingers. That and I’ve been soaking wet for you for like 48 hours now, so it shouldn’t be a problem,” you giggle. His shy smile tells you he’s willing to take the compliment.

You let your legs fall from their perch on his shoulder and fall to either side of his hips, opening yourself up to him. He’s staring, mouth half agape. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, but to have you laid out like this before him, fully ready to give yourself over to him and wanting him wholly in return, how couldn’t he stare.

You let your hand stroke up his cock, bringing his attention back to where the two of you nearly met. You angle him closer to you, you’re slowly pumping fist brushing against your own center. He snaps out of his trance and nudges your hand away, using his own grip to tap his thick cock against your opening.

Tap, tap tap. His head meets your slick folds, hips jerking slightly with every tap.

“Don’t tease me Eds,” you push your hips forward and are only met with him rubbing his dick into the outside of your pussy, “want you inside, need it so bad.”

He want’s to be a bother and continue his teasing, watching your writhe and squirm, but he can’t find it in him to deny you, so he presses the tip in and gauges your face for a reaction, only finding babbling bliss and pleas for more.

He’s sinking into you at an agonizing pace, craning down from his kneeling position above you to frame your head with bent arms and his lips on yours as you moan into each other’s mouths, him filling you more and more.

Your hands are in his hair, keeping your foreheads anchored together, breathing in tandem. He finally sinks all the way down and you can feel it in your lungs. You wrap your ankles around his back and squeeze him into you tighter, not wanting him to move just yet, wanting to just feel how deep he filled you up for the first time.

He lets out a shaky exhale and squeezes his eyes shut, “You were fuckin’ made for me,” he punctuates this with a subtle roll forward of his hips, lips falling into yours as if they had nowhere else to go.

You let your legs fall back, unclasping his hips, and move your hands from his wild hair down to his thighs, pushing him to start fucking you.

“Feel’s so fucking good,” you whisper into his mouth, your hands hardly assisting him anymore as he pumps in and out of your slick cunt, almost knocking the air out of you each time.

He grabs your chin with the hand that’s not propping himself up, “look at me,” his pace doesn’t falter and your mind nearly turns to mush, “you’re mine now, yeah?”

“Yes Eddie,” it comes out as a broken sob, your eyes barely able to focus on him with how close he was, “all yours, only yours.” Your mind had barely made the decision to say the words before they had escaped your lips, a dumbfounded truth serum setting over you in your cock drunk state.

You knew it to be true though, there was no going back after this, and you were willing to give yourself over fully, and accept anything he would give you.

“Ahh, fuck” you let out after a particularly harsh thrust, fists now dripping the sheets beneath you.

“So fucking good for me,” his hands now found purchase on your hips, setting a rhythm between you that only a musician could.

Through glassy eyes you admire him. Curly bangs stuck to his forehead, frantically thrusting torso making his tattoos look like stop motion cartoons, and through it all the scars are hardly noticeable. If anything, they’re just another part of him, the person between your legs that you found incredibly sexy, insecurities and all.

His perfect hands slid from your hips to your shoulders, now using the weight of your torso as leverage to fuck into you harder. His eyes bore into yours, searching for eye contact and finding your reassuring gaze that told him this was everything you wanted and more.

“Yes, yes, oh fuck,” you babble out. His little grunts and whimpers send volts of electricity to your core and fog your mind with lust and desire.

He moves a hand down to meet your center, palm splaying across your abdomen and keeping you pinned to the bed, thumb methodically catching your clit with each thrust. He didn’t have to ask if it felt good, the rolling back of your eyes and mouth so wide he could see your molars were enough of an indication that he was headed in the right direction.

“Mhmmmm,” you could hardly form words, but smiled up through your fucked out gaze at him, wide beam and lust fulled eyes telling him that he couldn’t possibly be making you feel any better than you do right now.

He leans back a bit, balancing himself on his thighs keeping his pace, thumb on your clit and eyes locked into yours. Through a groan he brings his unoccupied hand up to his face, biting down on the knuckle of his pointer finger, trying not to blow his load at the feeling of you squeezing around him.

Of course, this only made him look hotter to you, and thus you flexed around his cock even tighter.

Unexpectedly, he pulls out of you completely and before you can muster up the breath to complain, he’s dipped his lapping tongue against you. He fully buries himself into your cunt, cutting off the rhythm, of his cock with the somehow perfectly timed pulsing of his hungry tongue.

You can’t help but cry out, arch your hips, and send a hand flying to his hair to ground yourself. Through frantic panting and wet slurping sounds you think you can make out a “just had to taste you.”

Completely breathless, you can hardly conjure a response before he’s plunging into you again, fucking into you deeply and capturing your parted lips into a passionate kiss.

Something takes over you, and you’re suddenly wrapping your legs around his hips and using some found momentum to flip the two of your over. Suddenly, you’re on top of him, his curls splayed around his pretty face and body laid flat beneath you.

Before you had a moment to question yourself, you anchor your hands onto his shoulders and try your best to pick up the pace he had set earlier. Hips rolling and wet slapping sounds coming from between you.

“Jesus- fuck,” he stuttered in his movements, unsure if he wanted his hands on your face or your tits or your hips or… they landed on your ass and he wouldn’t argue with his first instincts.

“Eddie, I’ve wanted you like this for so long,” your words were breathy and mixed with lustful gasps, “always wanted to have you like this.”

“We could have done this a long time ago, huh?” He tries not to think about all the time wasted, and instead fantasies about all the making up for lost time you’ll do in the near future.

“You were always giving me those eyes while you played with your band,” you looked angelic to him, face hovering above him, framed only be the poor overhead lighting and flickering VHS menu of the last film you’d finished, “I always wanted you, just wasn’t sure you wanted me like this too.”

Your statement was simple enough, but he knew what you meant. You wanted him more than a fuck, and that’s what he had been worried about all along. Now, to have you sunk down on his cock like this, telling him that you had been scared in the same way as he had, only made him roll his hops up into you and pull your cheeks down for a sloppy kiss to seal the deal. You were finally on the same page.

Switching from a bounce of your hips, you lean back slowly and shift to more of a roll, keeping his cock buried deep inside of you while you gyrate your hips. Your arm extends back in between his spread legs to keep you stable, your torso finding its own rhythm in the midst of pleasure and fucking yourself onto his cock.

“So fucking perfect,” he gasps out, hardly able to take in the sight of your body writhing and rolling above him. He manages to find bait of sense in his brain and brings his hand back to your lower stomach, thumb flicking over your clit with every thrust of your hips.

“Oh,eddieohmygosh,” it came out as one breathy syllable, “pleasedon’tstopthat.”

He gently fucks himself up into you, matching your movements and not throwing you off of the sinful rhythm you’ve set, just managing too punctuate each bounce with the raise of his hips into yours and the increased pressure of his thumb on your clit.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he loves the way each breathy word out of your lips is matched with the beautiful bounce of your tits, “Eddie, you’re gonna-“

He doesn’t change a thing, the pressure on your clit, the arch of his hips, he would sooner die than rob you of pleasure or ruin this moment. Every moment he get’s to look at you, he thinks it’s the most beautiful you’ve ever looked, but he knows for sure that this one takes the cake.

“Ahhh, I’m-“ you don’t have to finish your statement for him to know you’re cumming on his cock, the pulsing squeeze of your walls and intense concentration from him not to bust on the spot, and rather to focus on the parting of your lips and the twitching of your hips on his.

“That’s it,” he keeps his thumb on your clit, but lets up on the pressure as soon as he feels you jerk against him, “that’s my girl.”

You lurch down and wrangle him into a kiss, only wanting to feel his lips on yours as you come down from your orgasm. You’re still slowly rolling your hips against his, but focused more on the feeling of his cheeks under your palms and his lips on yours.

“You okay?” He asks in between tongue tied kisses.

“Yes, perfect, thank you,” you arch your back into him a bit, “ready for more.”

Although you were fully prepared to bounce on his cock until he came, you were pleasantly surprised when his large hands surrounded your waist and hoisted you up off the bed. He wanted to try and keep his cock inside you, but accepted defeat as he managed to situate on the edge of the bed.

He shifted around you and situated himself in between your legs. You laid out, everything below the knees hanging off the edge of his hand-me-down mattress. He stood above you and lowered himself to land a few wet kisses on your breasts, his hard cock pressing into your needy center.

He jerked you up by the underside of your knees, pressing your thighs into your chest and sinking down into your open pussy, causing a deep groan to emit from both of you.

Here he was, scars and all, standing above you and thrusting into you as if it was the last thing he would ever do, and he looked like an angel to you.

More thoughtful than you may have initially given him credit for, his thumb finds your clit again and he politely, yet breathlessly asks, “Can you come again for me, pretty girl?”

How could you say no to that. You dumbly nod and throw your head back against the sheets, your hands balled up at your sides as he thrusted into you, grunting and moaning your name.

“So fucking good Eddie,” you manage to squeak out, “You make me feel so fucking good.”

“Ah fuck, yeah, yes,” his voice nearly jumped an octive, signaling his release. “Where should I-“ he began to ask.

“Inside,” it came out as two syllables in-between breaths, “It’s okay you can come-“

“Fuuuuuck,” a strangled moan and a collapse of his arms, along with the delicious pulse of his cock inside you signaled his release.

Before you could eve catch your breath, regain consciousness of the situation, he was reeling back and replacing his softening cock with two fingers. He latched his lips to your clit and began to suck in time with his finger’s replication of his cock’s earlier movements.

“Oh my god,” you were truly taken aback, his face buried in your cunt and setting you back on track to your building orgasm.

It didn’t take more than a minute and a half of him slurping your mixed releases from your cunt and bullying your g-spot with those damn magic fingers to send you hurdling towards orgasm number two, shaking and crying out his name.

It wasn’t until your legs were truly shaking and your hand was searching for his forehead to push him away from overstimulation that he finally let up and let up of your pussy with a wet pop and a smug look.

“You come?” He asks again, just as he had in the back of his van.

You don’t have the energy to respond, only roll your eyes and flip him the bird as you flop back down onto his bedsheets.

He managed to get you a warm rag and a cold glass of water, stroking your har and asking if you felt alright.

“Feel perfect Eddie,” you say after a long gulp, “you took such good care of me, you always do.”

He stroked your hair and positioned the two of you back comfortably beneath his sheets. “Thank you,” he starts, but you cut him off with a kiss.

“No, thank you,” you kiss him again, “for trusting me.” The look in your eyes could nearly make him melt. “You’re really something special Eddie, I mean it.”

“Special enough for a fourth date?”

You smack his chest and bury your head into his neck. “I don’t think we have to count dates if I’m your girlfriend now…”

Those dimples you adore perk up on his cheeks, and he bear hugs you, scarred chest and all.

“What time should I set the alarm for tomorrow?” He asks with a sorrow in his voice.

“How about never,” you roll over to trample him with another kiss, smothering his body in yours, knowing you’d be luck enough to have many moments like this soon to come.

A/N: I'm sorry I have long lost the tracking of a taglist (crying emoji) don't want to bother anyone who asked to be added the last time I wrote a pic ten thousand years ago, so I hope this reaches everyone it needs to <3

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #smut #Eddie munson imagine #Eddie munson #stranger things smut #Eddie munson fanfiction

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toji-girl · 1 month

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heyy darling, i fucking love your workajshaljka, i love love LOVE the way you write toji UGH could you maybe do one of college au! toji? maybe when he was younger with the reader and how hed be in college?

18+ only content - mdni

hello there sweetpea, you are so kind 🥺🥺 thank you for the compliment!

tags: fem reader + some smut and fluff + both you and him are in your early 20s + weed + mentions of alcohol (it's actually canon that he doesn't like it) + mentions of pregnancy/having a family

Dating Toji in his prime was very interesting to say the least, he gatherd attention wherever he went. Being over six feet tall and nothing but bulging muscles you weren't all that surprised.

All the women were over him, even though you two were in a committed relationship and they knew it that still didn't stop them from coming up to him batting their eyelashes in hopes he'd reply.

The guys dubbed him the campus playboy despite him not being one, Toji was committed to you and only you, his eyes never strayed from you and your scent was ingrained in him so he knew when you were near him.

It wasn't just his looks you were interested in, he was very smart and thoughtful and funny, while being super charming. Toji never failed to make you laugh or feel flustered when he would whisper in your ear.

A lot of people thought he was a himbo, but that wasn't the case, he had it all, the looks and brains to boot.

There was another thing you really appericated.

When you were stressed to the max about classes and homework piling on, Toji just knew which would always result in your legs being pushed back, your knees pressed against your ears almost.

He knew that this way you couldn't think about anything but him and the pleasure he doused you in, with the way his cock was stroking in and out of your embarrassingly wet cunt that squelched with each rut of his hips that rolled against you expertly filling you so perfectly.

It was always too much in a good way, you felt so full of him that it made you feel dizzy as you clung to him chanting his name.

Toji loved to watch you fall apart on his cock and he enjoyed it when you marked him with your nails and teeth letting everyone know who he belonged to when he had you in his lap at the parties.

He wasn't shy about public displays of affections either.

Whenever he had the chance he was sure to slap your ass, especially if you bend over and you two are in your dorm where you both spend most of your time in your own little world filled with love and obsession that left you wanting more of him, he was your drug.

Toji was a lot of fun too, he didn't enjoy drinking alcohol though

But he enjoyed smoking with you while studying together, which happened a lot, you helped each other out the best you could and he was your biggest encourager and supporter always having your back.

It always mellowed him out, but it wasn't often that it happened, if you didn't partake he made sure to take a few puffs before coming to see you, all red-eyed with low lids that always made you ache.

If you did then you spent a lot of time curled in his lap while you two lay in bed watching a movie or reruns, you and he preferred to spend alone time together, only on occasion, going out with some friends.

For holidays Toji tags along with you to go see family after the first few months of dating and after a year they already call him son-in-law and watching him interact with your cousins made you think of how he would be as a father.

"You know I'd think we have a really cute baby, chubby too, maybe even a few of them." You murmured later that night when you two settled on your mattress that creaked with his weight as he shifted.

He cocked an eyebrow and smirked, his scarred lip curling which always caught your attention. "Don't tempt me darlin'. You'd give me fat cute little brats who I have to fight for to get your attention, you think you're ready for the competition?" He teased making you laugh.

You settled on your side as you threw your leg over his waist drawing him closer, your heartbeats turning into one as you stared at him. Toji couldn't imagine a world where you didn't have his babies.

His hands trailed up and down your back drawing random patterns as he tugged you closer to slot his lips against yours. "I am yes, are you up for it?" You shot back moving to straddle him with a grin.

After another year Toji proposed at the park where you two had your first date, the same spot you shared your first kiss as well, shortly after the wedding you ended up pregnant with Megumi.

Then you had two beautiful twin daughters who completed your family.

Twenty years later you still get butterflies when Toji stares at you, your tummy twisting with that feeling of being in love as you brush his silver-streaked hair out from his face.

#💌incoming #tw: weed #tw: pregnancy #tw: alcohol #some very interesting tw's lmaoo #toji x reader smut #toji x you smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader smut #toji x reader #toji x you #fushiguro toji x reader

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comradekatara · 2 months

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i don’t want to watch natla but i appreciate very much you posting about “zuko’s little faggot diary” that shit made me crack up laughing ty

that’s just canon to me. he’s a boy who loves to monologue. of course he keeps a diary. how else is he gonna keep track of his special interests. where else is he gonna write down his angsty poetry. you know he spent months tracking aang down taking detailed notes on his garb, his fighting style, his flight patterns, and not once ever bothered taking note of his name, even though he easily could’ve learned it from the million times katara screamed it over the course of their fights.

which, if you’ll allow me to go on a tangent, is another thing that bothers me. when ppl are like “zuko learned their names because they all say one another’s names constantly.” and you think that means he actively made an effort to REMEMBER it????? you must be out of your damn gourd if you think that the most one-track minded human being in the history of the universe is paying attention to anything that doesn’t directly interest him in that very moment. but i digress.

i just KNOW that zuko was soo mad that he lost his diary after his ship got blown up by zhao because years of precious poetry and avatar lore, burned to cinders by that PHILISTINE!!!! and then as a refugee in the earth kingdom, he languishes, diaryless, because he’s too embarrassed to actually spend what little money they have on something so extraneous. and then once back in the fire nation he obviously can’t keep a diary because azula will do everything in her power to read it (he learned that the hard way as a child). but then, finally, once he flees to the western air temple, he can actually keep a diary again, now that he is surrounded by nice, normal people who don’t actually care enough about him to snoop through his belongings.

or so he thinks.

now, aang, being a respectful young lad, would never share his findings with the rest of the group, especially since none of them have actually warmed up to him yet. but that doesn’t prevent him from reading everything zuko has ever written in that diary. and of course, he doesn’t tell zuko, because he has the tact and savvy to know that if he alerts zuko to his snooping, then he will simply hide his diary better, or even worse, stop writing in it altogether. and zuko can’t stop writing!! for he has a poet’s soul!!!

also, zuko has somehow gathered a lot of information on sokka that aang himself did not know, despite being friends with him for nearly a year now (like the fact that he dated the moon??? or the fact that his mother was killed by the fire nation??? although that one he really should’ve figured out on his own. considering that he and katara are siblings, and thus logically would share a mother). and so aang really needs zuko to keep updating his SOKKA LORE notebook because he feels kind of guilty that he knew basically nothing about his friend and yet zuko, the least observant person he has ever met, is somehow an expert in sokkology (although aang is deeply offended on katara’s behalf that he simply refers to her as “sokka’s sister” or sometimes “the angry one”).

for the record, aang never actually puts together WHY zuko is so fascinated by sokka. he’s just like “of course he’d be intrigued by sokka. he has a very complex mind, what an adventure to attempt to fathom the depths of his psyche.” like he just assumes that zuko is using sokka as a case study for completely innocuous reasons. he also assumes that zuko, like any teenage boy with eyes, is infatuated with katara. not at first, obviously, because to zuko she is still “girl sister, long hair” but eventually. once they reconcile, and become friends. and then his diary makes a sharp turn from carefully documenting any and all sokka lore to “katara said this really funny thing today” “katara is so nice and pretty” “katara is such a good waterbender” and suddenly aang is NOT having fun anymore!!!! halt the presses!!!!!

so aang just kind of sulks to himself for a while because it’s not like he can TELL anyone about his NEW ROMANTIC RIVAL in the BID FOR KATARA’S AFFECTIONS, but he does try to vaguely intimate to sokka and toph that it bothers him. and toph’s just like “what?? you mean all those times she hooked up with haru at the western air temple???” and aang’s just like. “HARU??????!!?!!??!?!?”

anyway. zuko isn’t a complete idiot, so after a few good years of being friends with aang, he finally catches onto the fact that aang has been keeping up with his diary every time he visits the palace, after like, the fourth or fifth time that aang accidentally lets a piece of information slip that he only could’ve known via reading zuko’s diary. so zuko decides to mess with him, and starts keeping a fake diary in the place he used to keep his real diary (columbus style) and writing shit in it like, “aang’s recent experimentations with facial hair are so embarrassing. just because you’re finally old enough to grow a weak little mustache doesn’t mean that you, under any circumstances, SHOULD. i bet katara is throwing up puking every day just having to kiss his horrendous furry mouth.” or, “katara said that she thinks roku was not only hotter, but also a way better avatar than aang, and personally, i agree. if he was still the avatar today no one would ever go hungry and we would have total world peace.” or, “aang is way too comfortable going shirtless. if i had that scrawny lanky body i would cover that shit up with a big ol sweater every day.” or, “aang said something really mean the other day and it hurt my feelings and i cried alone in my room for 3 hours. aang is literally a bully????”

and aang can’t even SAY anything because zuko is allowed to say whatever he wants about his friends in the privacy of his own journal, but also he decides that if zuko truly hates him so much, then he will simply stop visiting the fire nation so frequently, out of respect to his friend. at which point zuko realizes that he may have gone too far, so the next time aang visits him, he puts his real diary in his drawer with an entry that reads, “i can’t believe aang keeps falling for my fake diary prank. he doesn’t even know that im messing with him. and he never will, because my system is flawless, and i’ll never ever lose track of which diary is the real one and which one is the fake.”

at which point aang runs headfirst into a meeting between fire lord zuko and his senior council and is just like “ZUKO!!!!!!!!!!! YOU IDIOT!!!!!!!!!!!!” and tackles him in a hug with no regard for propriety. he nearly gives zuko a concussion from the force of his hug. but dammit if it isn’t worth it.

#boyfriendgideon #asks #all of this is canon btw.#zuko #aang #aang&zuko #katara&zuko #aang&katara #sokkaxzuko #also yeah. don’t watch natla. truly NOT worth it in the slightest . u made a good call there

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wlntrsldler · 30 days

Text

Three Hundred and Seventy-One Days | Luke Castellan

a/n: not canon-compliant! i hate this actually but i needed to write something to get me back in the zone! sunshine reader because i wanted a broody luke lol.

i. Three days.

Right before the sun sets behind the hill at Camp Half Blood, there's a chill in the air that hits Luke's skin in a way that makes him feel like he's back on the roof of his house in Connecticut. He found out about it when he returned from his failed quest when he was searching for a moment of solace, away from the pitiful eyes of the campers, away from the voice that haunted his dreams. Perched on a branch, hidden by the shade of the leaves, leaning against the bark of the tree with sticky amber clinging to the material of his orange shirt, Luke sits there until the sun disappears for the day.

It reminds him of the days he would crawl out of his bedroom window to escape the sounds of his mother's incoherent mumbling. He would sit there in nothing but a thin t-shirt and his cargo shorts, goosebumps rising on his skin, as he talked to himself. It was a bad habit he picked up in his younger years. He kept himself company at home because his mom didn't talk to him much, not really, and when she did, when her words made sense for once, all Luke could do was count down the minutes until he lost his mother again.

Before he was old enough to understand his heritage, who his father was, he used to pray to an entity he didn't believe in to give his mother moments of clarity, slivers of coherence so he at least knew something, anything, about the woman he called mom. But after the first time Luke's wishes were granted, he stopped praying. Somehow it was more painful watching his mother drift in and out of consciousness than it was living with a stranger he knew he loved, but knew nothing about.

For a year, that spot on the tree was a secret. Nobody knew that Luke would climb up there every day just to feel the breeze against his skin. Nobody questioned why the Hermes head counselor would disappear at the same time, until you came along.

"Whatcha doin' up there?"

Luke nearly lost his balance on the branch at the sound of your voice from under him. He looked down to see you smiling up at him, hands laced together behind your back. You were eighteen, the same as him, and when he first heard of your arrival, Luke was jealous. You got to have 18 years of childhood, while he was only granted half of that. It didn't seem fair.

"You should be at dinner," Luke replied, leaning back against the tree. The sun made the sky a soft orange color. The darkness of the night was creeping in through the corners of the sky, the chill he searches for each night engulfed him.

"To be fair, so should you, head counselor," You replied, analyzing the indents in the bark of the tree trunk that formed from Luke's constant climbing. You slotted your feet in the crevices, making your way to the tree branch beside Luke's. The two branches were close to each other, growing steadily until they almost touched at the tips. "Woah, this view is unreal."

"Be careful," He mumbled, clenching his jaw. "I'm not gonna take you to the infirmary if you fall and break a bone."

"Relax," You chuckled, situating yourself. "I can handle myself."

Luke nodded once and turned his attention back to the skyline. In this light, the scar across his cheek was prominent. It's healed well enough, but it still left a bump across his flesh that made Luke queasy every time he looked at it for too long. The two of you sat in silence as the sun disappeared. Luke tilted his head to look at you, only to find that you were already staring at him. He rubbed the side of his face against his shoulder as if trying to wipe away the scar on his shirt, "What are you doing here?"

You shrugged, "Not really into the whole offerings thing, to be honest."

"So you decided to wander into the woods alone?" Luke asked, "That's dangerous. There's a lot of things out here that you wouldn't believe. You can get hurt."

"But it's okay when you do it?"

"I know how to fight," Luke found himself taking on a defensive position. "You just got here."

"That doesn't mean I don't know how to fight," You replied. Your voice was calm, despite the slight bite to Luke's tone. "Just because I didn't spend my childhood playing with swords and bows and arrows doesn't mean I don't know how to fend for myself, y'know."

"The things out here are different from schoolyard bullies. I don't think you understand that."

"Are we going to ignore that I fought a hellhound on my way here or...?"

"You fought a hellhound?"

Luke wouldn't have guessed that by the way you walked into the Hermes cabin, all smiles and golden flecks of color in the irises of your eyes. You spoke in a preppy tone and he nearly had to grab his siblings by their ear to drag them away from you. If he was a betting man, he would bet that you were a child of Aphrodite.

"Mhm," You hummed, "See, I'm not so helpless."

"I didn't say you were."

"Yeah, but you implied it," You shrugged, not deterred by his tone. "Anyways, are you gonna tell me what you're doing here?"

"Well, I was trying to get some privacy," He replied. He should've been annoyed at the intrusion, but he couldn't bring himself to be upset with you as much as he should've been. "But that didn't go as planned."

"Sorry, sorry," You chuckled, putting your hands up in defense. "Didn't know keeping you company was a no-no. Maybe I do have some things to learn about camp after all."

He scoffed, "Hanging out with me should be the least of your worries."

"I dunno, I always seem to gravitate towards the broody types."

"I'm not broody."

"Right," You laughed. You turned to look at him, jaw dropping when you realized he was serious. "When was the last time you smiled? And not those fake, polite smiles you give to strangers trying to make small talk in the grocery store line, you know?"

No, he didn't know. He didn't go out much, much less to the grocery store to have conversations about the rising prices of produce or the lack of real milk options due to the infiltration of the non-dairy industry.

"I smile all the time," Luke replied, eyebrows furrowing in thought as he tried to remember the last time he smiled at someone. "I smile at campers."

"That's because it's your job, silly!" You giggled, shaking your head. "When was the last time you smiled just because?"

Luke pursed his lips, countering, "When was the last time you didn't smile?"

"When I was fighting the hellhound."

Luke felt his lips quirk up at that. It was a quick-witted response, he'll give you that. He stopped it from becoming anything more and cleared his throat.

"Okay, I'll leave you to it," You sighed, carefully stretching your legs down to the first indent on the tree. You skillfully climbed down and landed on your feet with a thud, "See you around, Luke."

Luke's mouth felt dry at the sound of his name leaving your lips. He was never a fan of his name before. He thought it sounded generic and unoriginal, but when you said it, it didn't sound half as bad as he thought it was. His stomach churned in a way that was foreign to him.

"Hopefully, not here!" He called out, watching as your figure retreated back to the main grounds. "Privacy, remember that!"

"I like the broody types, remember that!" You called back, waving to him before you disappeared into the maze of trees.

ii. Twelve days.

"You lied."

You looked up from your book with an eyebrow raised as you stared at the counselor at the foot of your bed. Luke was standing there, the signature stern look etched on his face. You placed your bookmark in your book, sitting up on your bed as you smiled at him, "Excuse me?"

He had his arms crossed over his chest, the beads of his camp necklace resting on the tops of his knuckles, "You lied. You didn't fight a hellhound."

"Okay, so I didn't fight a hellhound," You said, dragging on the word 'fight' for emphasis. "But I encountered a hellhound."

"Which you befriended."

"Which I befriended," You confirmed, "I named him Stanley. Wanna meet him?"

"No," Luke replied quickly. "That shouldn't even be allowed in here."

"He's sweet," You tutted, slipping your feet into your shoes as you stood up. "Give him a chance, I swear you'll love him."

"You're keeping a hellhound as a pet?"

"He's just a baby," You cooed, jutting out your bottom lip.

Luke felt his face twitch in half-annoyance and half-fondness. He didn't know if he found your naivete dangerous or charming, or both, but he was scared for you. You were too trusting for your own good, "He is not a baby. He's a monster."

"Don't talk about Stanley like that."

Luke rolled his eyes, falling into the same rhythm as your steps, "You don't realize how dangerous this is, Y/N."

"Here you go with the danger thing again," You teased, nudging him. Luke's breath got caught in his chest. Your simple touch seemed to burn his skin. Sparks erupted across his entire body. "Told you, I'll be fine."

"Not every monster you encounter can be defeated by the power of friendship. You can't rely on some kumbaya shit."

"Kumbaya?" You snorted, looking at him with an unreadable expression on your face. You scrunched your face up, a tiny smile tugging on your lips. "You're so...."

"I'm so what?" He questioned, planting his feet on the ground.

"Odd."

He tried not to take offense to that because while your words were like a dagger to his heart, the way you said it showed that you didn't mean it in a bad way. You seemed to be trying to figure him out, pressing his buttons, trying to see what made him tick. And you were succeeding. Luke never ventured to talk to new campers unless he was forced to by Chiron, but he couldn't fight the pull you had on him.

"Broody and odd," He said, resuming his steps, "I'm swooning."

The full belly laugh that escaped you made Luke's steps falter. Campers surrounding you looked at you, confused as to what Luke could've said that made you react that way. Surely, the Hermes Head Counselor wasn't that funny. He wasn't known to crack jokes, not since he returned. You couldn't help it, though. He said it in such a deadpan way that made your sides hurt from laughing so much.

"Just my type," You teased.

Luke didn't like how his cheeks were warming up at your comment. He's not one to flirt or be flirted with. He found girls attractive, sure, but most of them were too intimidated to talk to him so he never really had experience in that department. But he supposed since you grew up in the world, you were used to doing things like this. He wondered if you knew the effect you had on him.

"Dinner is supposed to be good tonight," He said, changing the subject. He was looking everywhere but you, trying to hide the blush on his cheeks that seemed to not want to subside.

"Oh, no you don't," You shook your head. "You are not gonna tempt me into going to dinner just so you can hide away in your tree. I'll be there, Castellan."

He grimaced. He was hoping that you'd fall for the trap, but he was learning quickly that you weren't as gullible as he hoped you'd be. Luke sighed, accepting defeat. "Fine, but can you just be careful? You've been lucky that there weren't any creatures lurking around."

"Why don't we just go together?" You asked, "So you can stop worrying about my safety and all."

"I'm not worried about your safety," He lied through his teeth. The idea wasn't bad though. It would keep him from wondering if you were attacked on your way to meet him. A shiver ran down his spine as he thought about it. He didn't like this weird protectiveness he had over you. He didn't even know you. "But fine. Meet me at the Hermes cabin after they ring for dinner."

"You got it," You saluted him playfully as you walked away, skipping to meet up with members of the Apollo cabin. How did you manage to make so many friends so quickly? And why did you insist on sticking with him when it's clear that you had other friends you could be bothering instead of him?

Luke tried not to think about it too much as he continued on with his day, but no matter how hard he tried, his mind kept pulling him back to you. During his lessons with other campers, he took mental notes of what moves he should teach you, just in case anything happened so you'd be prepared. During arts and crafts, he found himself reaching for the gold glitter because it reminded him of your eyes. This caused raised eyebrows from other campers since it was well-known that the counselor didn't like glitter post-Glitter Gate where he was shaking out glitter from his curls for days.

By the time dinner rolled around, he was thankful he stopped thinking about you, but soon realized that it was worse now that you were in front of him, all smiles and banter as you always were. It was getting harder to contain the redness of his cheeks as you complimented him in your own way.

"Lead the way, Castellan," You grinned.

Luke couldn't help but return your smile.

iii. Sixty-six days.

"Stanley, down," You instructed, leaning over to scratch the hellhound behind its ears. "Good boy."

Luke's sword was raised in a fighting stance as he watched you giggle as the hellhound nuzzled into your touch. You somehow managed to make him agree to meet the monster. Pathetically, it didn't take much for Luke to agree. It took you batting your eyelashes at him with a small pout and he reluctantly agreed to meet Stanley.

"Luke," You called him over, still petting the hellhound. "Come on, he won't do anything to you."

"I'm good right here," He grunted, holding onto his sword. "If he tries anything, one of us should be ready and you obviously have your guard down."

"He won't," You assured, "He's sweet."

"Nothing from the underworld is sweet, Y/N."

"You don't think I'm sweet?"

Luke rolled his eyes. You'd been claimed by your father, Hades, a few days ago. It made sense the more he thought about it. The hellhound wasn't sent to attack you, but to protect you. It was sent by your father to guide you to Camp Half Blood. "You're not technically from there."

"Same shit," You shrugged, patting the spot next to you on the grass for him to join you. "Come on, Luke. Come meet Stanley."

It was against everything he believed in. He shouldn't walk over to you to pet a monster like it was a stray dog on the side of the road, waiting to be rescued. But his feet seemed to have a mind of their own because before he knew it, he was walking over to you, sword tossed somewhere beside him to keep his hands free to touch the surprisingly soft fur of the hellhound.

The hellhound purred under Luke's touch, gentle and loving. If Luke ignored the scary color of its eyes, he would confidently say that it was just a dog. Luke's shoulders relaxed, "Okay, he's not half bad."

"Told you," You said, leaning against him. Luke's hands froze for a second, making the hellhound whine. He resumed his scratches, not wanting to take his chances and angering the dog. "See? Not all of us from the underworld are scary monsters."

"You're not from there," He repeated, "Stop saying that you are."

"Hades is my dad, Luke," You whispered. "So I am. I am a part of him."

"You're nothing like the gods."

There was something in his voice that made your heart pound in your chest. It was no secret that Luke's relationship with his father, and all of the gods for that matter, was strained. Luke saying that you were nothing like them with such sincerity made your head spin. It felt definite. It felt like a fact that he could never think of you as that.

"Could be nice though," You joked, trying to cover up the swell in your chest with humor. "Immortality and all."

"Nah, this one life is enough for me, I think."

"What? You're not shooting for rebirth?"

If anyone else would've asked him the same question a year ago, even a few weeks ago, he would've said no. If any of his other lives were like this one, he would decline the request if he could. All that he'd gone through in this lifetime was enough.

But now you were asking him that question with a twinkle of hope in your eyes that made him wonder if he'd judged this life too soon. Maybe there was more to life than fighting and running. Maybe the moments of life when he sits on a tree branch watching the sunset, or when he's yelling at his siblings to stop running in the cabin, or hell, even when he was petting a goddamn hellhound, were enough to make him wish for another shot at this life thing.

Maybe he just needed to learn a thing or two from you. If he could continue to know you in each lifetime, maybe he'll turn out fine.

"Maybe," Luke poked his tongue out the corner of his mouth. He blinked, "I don't know."

"Keep an open mind to it, is all I ask," You said. "I wanna find you in every universe just so I can annoy the shit out of you in each one."

He chuckled softly, not missing the smile that widened on your face as you watched him crack. "I changed my mind. No rebirth for me. I can only handle you in so many lifetimes."

"You'll grow to love me."

I know, Luke wanted to say, and that's the part that scares me the most. Throughout his years at Camp Half Blood, Luke prided himself in knowing that when push comes to shove, he can do what's necessary to succeed. It's what made him the perfect Head Counselor, the best swordsman that Camp Half Blood has seen in years. It's what made him a hero.

But now he didn't feel like that was the case anymore. He was growing soft, weak. He'd spent so much time trying to protect you and keep you from danger that he forgot about protecting himself. You found his Achilles heel and well, Luke was just waiting until he surrendered to you.

He opened his mouth to speak, "If Stanley doesn't kill me first."

If Luke could bottle up the sound of your laughter, he would.

iv. Three hundred and sixty-five days.

"Who is that?"

Luke followed Percy's eyes to the other side of the field. His lips turned up at the corners as he saw you waving at him with a smile on your face. Luke waved back with the same enthusiasm, confusing the boy beside him.

"That's Y/N," Luke responded, picking up his steps to meet you halfway. "That's my girlfriend."

"You have a girlfriend?"

"I know, shocker!" You teased, placing a kiss on Luke's cheek. Luke wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you closer, completely oblivious to the grimace that graced Percy's face. "Mr. Stick-in-the-mud head counselor has a girlfriend."

"Hey!"

Percy scrunched his face up, "You kinda are a stick-in-the-mud. No offense."

"Offense taken," Luke scoffed, poking your side. "Y/N, this is Percy. He's new here."

You stretched out a hand in greeting, "Nice to meet ya, Percy. Welcome to Camp Half Blood."

"Are you always this preppy?"

"She is," Luke said, shrugging. "Nice change of pace from the rest of us, don't you think?"

"Sure," He nodded, eyeing the both of you. Luke's arm didn't move from your waist and you didn't seem to mind. He was too young to understand why you and Luke didn't want to have any personal space. "Are you joining us on the tour that Luke is giving me of Camp Half Blood?"

"Wish I could, but the Stolls are planning to TP the Ares cabin as a prank and I should probably stop them before someone gets maimed at Capture the Flag tomorrow," You cringed.

Luke sighed, dropping his head to your shoulder. You tangled your fingers through his curls, trying to offer some comfort, "I told them not to do that."

"When have your siblings ever listened to you?"

"They used to before you came along!" Luke groaned, "But now they only listen to the pretty counselor."

"Must run in the family," You teased.

"Shut up," Luke grumbled, lifting his head up. Percy could see the blush on Luke's cheeks and he cringed. He hoped he'd never end up like this when he became a teenager. It was obvious you had Luke wrapped around your finger. "Go stop them before Lee gives us a lecture on the dangers of resorting to violence. Again."

"I'm going, I'm going," You laughed. You placed a quick kiss to Luke's lips before waving goodbye to the two boys. Before you were out of earshot, you turned around, "Tree later?"

"See you there!" Luke replied, grinning at you until you made it across the field. He turned to Percy, scratching the back of his neck, "Sorry about that. Where were we?"

"Archery."

"Ah, right! Archery," Luke nodded, continuing his steps, "It's down this way."

Percy followed Luke through the field, staring at the signs that pointed in different directions. Camp Half Blood was huge. This tour was definitely going to take longer than he anticipated. Not wanting to continue with a lull in the conversation, Percy spoke up, "How long have you and Y/N been together?"

Percy figured that Luke would have a lot to say about you which would fill the silence. He was right. Luke smiled at the boy, "A few months. She got here last year and it's been us two ever since. Took me a minute to ask her out, though."

"Well if you liked her, why did you wait? That doesn't make much sense."

"It was complicated," He replied, "I didn't really accept that I liked her until way later. Kinda kept my feelings to myself for a while."

"Is this what being a teenager is like?" Percy asked, cringing at Luke's words. He always imagined that falling in love with someone was easy. If two people liked each other, they should be together, right?

"Yeah," Luke laughed, patting Percy on the back. "Enjoy your early years, Perce. It gets worse from here."

"Geez, you really know how to inspire confidence in someone."

The laugh that escaped Luke reminded him too much of you. There were parts of you that weaseled their way into him. He didn't understand why you laughed so hard at his deadpan comments before, but now that he was on the receiving end of it with Percy, he saw why.

Percy reminded Luke a lot of himself, back when he was younger. It was a weird thing to meet a foil of yourself, someone who you could've been if things had been different. Luke wondered if he'd be like Percy if his life hadn't been so cruel. Not that Percy's life was all sunshine and rainbows, either. Luke heard through the grapevine that Percy lost his mom during the battle with the minotaur, but at least he had a mom that he knew. He had a mom that cared for him.

Luke was dreading the day Percy got claimed. Something told him that it would cause a ripple effect. Start things that Luke wasn't ready for, not yet. Maybe he'll never be ready for it. Had he known that he'd meet you, maybe he wouldn't have said yes to it. Maybe if you had stumbled into Camp Half Blood a day earlier, he wouldn't be facing this.

Luke faked a smile, shaking away those thoughts, "Come on, archery's just around the corner."

v. Three hundred and seventy-one days.

"Thought I'd find you here."

Luke closed his eyes at the familiar voice that joined him on the tree branch. The separate branch that you used to it on morphed into his own. Two branches intertwined, a simple work of nature, but it felt like a symbol. An omen.

The fireworks illuminated the night sky. Luke had never been up here this late before. The air was cold.

"What are you doing here?"

You let out a dry chuckle, "Dejavu for a second there."

"Y/N."

You gulped, slowly inching towards him. There was a crease between his eyebrows as he stared ahead. You sighed, "I came looking for you."

"Why?"

"Luke, don't do this."

He sniffed, rubbing his eyes with his balled-up fists. He winced as he put too much pressure on his cheek, his scar stinging at the contact. It's been more sensitive lately the more he spoke to Kronos. He shook his head, "I have to."

"No, you don't," You pleaded, placing a hand on his arm. "It's not too late."

"It is. Don't you understand?" He sobbed, "It's too late."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I didn't want to break your heart," He whispered. He felt silly saying it out loud, but it made sense to him at the time. He couldn't bare to see your face when he told you about everything. That's why he was going to leave without saying goodbye.

"How's that going for you?"

How you managed to make him laugh even during this, even during the end, was beyond Luke's understanding. He wished you didn't have an effect on him like this. It would make things so much easier.

"I'm sorry."

"For breaking my heart or for betraying all of us?"

Luke licked his lips, "Both."

You removed your hand from his arm. Luke shivered without your touch. "I'll see you again, yeah?"

"I don't know."

"I know," Tears pricked your eyes. Maybe it was the shock of it all, but you were calm. Too calm. It didn't feel real that just a few steps away, camp was in disarray because of the boy beside you. "Rebirth, remember? In every lifetime."

"Sure," He said. Maybe the hope of it all will be enough to get him through this. "I love you."

"I love you, too," You said, leaning over to place a last kiss on his lips. You pulled away as you felt your tears mixing with his, "Go, they'll come looking here soon."

Luke nodded and made his way down the tree. You watched him fade away in the distance.

#frances writes #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n

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justauthoring · 5 months

Text

the bait.

zoro only wishes he'd gotten there earlier.

a/n: okay, so... listen, three things; i meant to write something for opla when it came out but of course, as usual, i'm late to everything :) (fashionably late???) second, i can't help it. i love protective!zoro :) and third, yes i will post the third part to naturally soon!

ALSO! i've never seen one piece (probably won't ever tbh) so this is strictly based off of the live action. if things aren't canon accurate to the anime, it's because it's not meant to be!

word count: 3,757

warnings: attempted sexual assault, creepy guy, also rushed ending

want to support your local writer? send me a coffee!

“Absolutely not.”

At least, that’s what he said.

No one had really bothered to listen to him regardless of the fact.

“Zoro,” you sigh, frowning at the nasty glare set on his face, harsh eyes set specifically on Nami as he faces her fully, arms crossed over his chest, seconds away from practically lunging at her (at least, it sure seemed that way – you knew, or hoped, he wouldn’t actually).

He doesn’t acknowledge you. Not at first. It takes you grabbing him by the crook of his elbow and tugging him to face you for his eyes to finally fall on you. Almost instantly, his gaze softens as you shake your head up at him.

“There’s no way I’m letting her use you as bait like that–”

“It wasn’t Nami’s idea, Zoro,” you huff, “it was mine.”

His lips part, hands falling to his side in disbelief. “What.”

“We need that treasure, yeah?” You ask, trying to appeal to his logical side. The rest of the crew is watching as well, and you know he’d rather not make a scene in front of all of them if he can help it. He’s not thinking all that rationally, though and you know that as well. The second the plan had left Nami’s lips, he’d cut her off with a harsh no that everyone had chosen to ignore at first. The second time he’d said the words, he’d been firmer, harsher, a cruel tone bleeding into his tone as he cut Nami off.

You needed him to understand that this wasn’t her idea and this certainly wasn’t her fault.

“Yeah,” he nods, shrugging, “but we can easily steal it another way–”

“Not unless you want all of the Marines after us in seconds–”

“We can handle them,” Zoro cuts Nami off, turning to her once again with a glare. “I can.”

Nami rolls her eyes; “the whole of the Marine’s?”

And his answer is blunt; “yeah.”

She scoffs.

Stepping in before the two of them actually fight, you opt for physically stepping in front of Zoro this time. “Listen, this was my plan, okay?” You try to placate, setting your hand on Zoro’s chest to hold him back. “Mine alone. I’m volunteering. When we scoped things out, he wouldn’t take his eyes off of me, right?” Zoro frowns at the recollection, and you’re quick to continue. “I'll distract him just while Nami quickly slips in. In and out, she grabs the treasure and the second she gives me the okay, I leave, right?”

You turn to Nami, smiling at her.

“Yup,” she nods, leaning against the table where her map lays of the restaurant the heist would be taking place in. “In, out. I’m quick. I wouldn’t do this if I thought Y/N was in any danger.”

Turning back to Zoro, you nod; “see?”

“Besides,” Sanji speaks up, shrugging his shoulders. “The rest of us will be keeping an eye just in case.”

“Yeah!” Luffy calls out, grinning widely at Zoro who stares back at him unimpressed. “We won’t let anything happen to Y/N! I promise.”

Zoro doesn’t say anything at first. His eyes drift from Luffy, across the crew, Nami and then finally you. He can tell that no matter how much he argues, none of them are going to budge–and Nami had a point. He knew that the crew would never intentionally ever put you in any danger.

Not to mention you… he could tell this was important to you. Helping the crew like this.

“Fine,” he huffs, ignoring the tightness in his chest as he meets your gaze. “But the second something goes wrong, mission or not, I’m–”

“Stepping in,” Nami finishes for him, sending a smirk Zoro’s way as she rolls her eyes. “I’d expect nothing less.”

And that settles that. A moment later and Nami is finishing the plan, you lean in to listen intently to her words as Zoro watches from behind you, eyes drifting across you. It wasn’t that he didn’t have faith in your abilities, but it was the premise of the entire idea. Zoro didn’t need to know the man they were trying to steal from to know he was a sleazebag–the guy practically oozed it and a single glance at him at Zoro feeling disgusted.

To know that you’d have to be batting your eyes at a man like that?

It made him feel sick.

It didn’t help that you were exceptionally skilled at it, though.

Sanji’s kept a very close eye on him since the entire operation began, never drifting too far in fear that Zoro might lunge forward at any given second. If the cook was being honest, he wasn’t all that comfortable with what was happening either (a gentleman like himself, of course) but he also knew how crucial this mission was and he didn’t want to put Nami in any unnecessary danger either.

So, he stuck to the plan and tried to make sure Zoro did too.

God, why’d he always have to get stuck with the mosshead?

“I must say, you look rather… fetching tonight, my dear.”

Forcing a smile on your lips, you turn your head towards the man, batting your eyelashes prettily as you brush a strand of ruly hair behind your ear. You play the part of bashful well, even though you feel sick to the stomach at the man’s rather… gross flirts.

“Why, thank you Mr. Becker,” you smile back at him, letting your weight fall against the side of the counter of the bar. When the mission had started, you’d come here first, remembering that Nami had told you that your target often spent his free time at the bar, drinking himself to a stupor and preying on whatever poor girl had caught his eye that night. Of course, tonight you were his prey and you had every intention of making sure that by the end of the night, this man would prey.

It was the main reason why you’d been so okay with offering yourself up as bait. Never in a million years would you allow your body to be used like this, but this man was notorious for trapping young rich women, lying to them with pretty words and hopeful promises, until he forced himself on them and stole every pretty penny off of them. The Strawhat’s goal was to get the treasure for yourselves, but your main goal was to teach this man a lesson.

You could see why so many women fell for his tricks. Despite being older, he was handsome–though the admission felt sour on your tongue–and he was exceptionally charming. Or, rather, he would be if you didn’t know the truth. An hour of his charms and flirts and you’re already feeling exhausted from his games, knowing that this is just what he does… makes a woman feel special and beautiful, only to use them for sex and steal every bit of their money right off of them. He had a big enough name that no one believed these women, but you? You did.

“Please,” he admonishes, “call me Rinano.”

You beam, “thank you, Rinano,” you correct, making sure to say his sultry tone, shifting your body so that you’re facing him. The dress Nami had found for you certainly was beautiful, you only wished you’d gotten to wear it on better terms. A floor length, black, silk dress that hugged you in all the right places, with a rather tempting slit that ran quite high on your leg and a neckline that dipped low enough to have anyone’s eyes glancing at it.

You know the second the words leave your lips, the words go straight to the man’s penis. His eyes bulge faintly, and this dazed look washes over his eyes as his eyes dip lower, just briefly, taking in the view of your chest.

You ignore the shiver that threatens to run up your spine.

“Please, Y/N, I think it’s time we moved this somewhere else, no?” He offers, eyes finally falling back on your own as he extends a hand out towards you. “Somewhere… a little more private?”

You mull on the decision briefly. It wasn’t part of your plan to go anywhere private with the man, knowing that this is how he lures women into his trap… but Nami still wasn’t done. Or, at least, she hadn’t given the signal. And you didn’t want to risk her or the mission…

Letting a smile curl on your lips, you set your hand in his.

“I’d love to.”

He grins, shifting to lead you through the crowd. You chance a glance back towards where you know Zoro is, but it’d gotten a lot busier since you’d come in and you can’t make him out in the crowd. Your chest tightens with worry, but you try to shake it off. You know Zoro would never let his eyes off of you, and you know the rest of your crewmates wouldn’t ever let you be in any danger either. You’re sure, even if you can't see him, that Zoro knows where you are.

“Hey man, you got a light?”

A frown curls onto Zoro’s lips when suddenly there’s a group of men standing around him, effectively blocking off his view of you. His body tenses as he glances at the three men, noticing for the first time just how busy it's gotten in the restaurant–Zoro and the rest of them had already had to make sure there was enough distance between you and them so as not to blow your cover. Zoro, though he argued against it, was forced to stand near the entrance of the restaurant, a good distance away from the bar and where you were, but it had been fine because Zoro had still been able to see you.

Now though? Especially with these idiots standing in front of him? He couldn’t see you at all.

A quick glance to the left and Zoro realizes he’s been separated from Sanji somehow as well.

Shit.

“Excuse me,” one of the men cuts in, taking a step towards Zoro. “We asked you a question.”

“No,” Zoro answers bluntly, glaring at the men as he tries to shove his way through.

“Are you sure?” Another one asks, the one holding a cigarette in his hands, a frown on his lips but as Zoro’s eyes flicker to him, he notices a glint in the man's eyes. “I forgot one at home and I’ve just been dying for a smoke–”

“I don’t have one,” Zoro grounds out, “get out of my way.”

The third one steps in front of him, hands held by his sides as he laughs; “hey, man… we’re just talking here. No reason to get mad.”

Zoro glares at him.

“I mean…” the one holding the cigar speaks up, “it’s not like you’re looking for someone, is it?”

Panic sets in then. By the smirks on their faces, Zoro comes to the startling realization that these men aren’t just annoying but that they must be Rinano’s men and they’re fully aware of who Zoro is and what he’s here for. And if they knew, then…

Zoro doesn’t hesitate, his right hand falls on his swords before striking his leg out towards the man to his left, knocking him up the chin and effectively knocking him on his ass. Instantly, a chaos of panic ensues as Zoro fights the other two, screams from other people in the restaurant but Zoro pays no mind to them. Rinano’s men are exceptionally weak that it barely takes Zoro anything to knock them down, and his eyes instantly shoot towards the bar the second he can, only for his heart to fall the pit of his stomach when he realizes you’re no longer there.

“Zoro!”

It’s Sanji who’s calling out for him, racing towards him through the panicked crowd and he’s slightly out of breath when he reaches him. Sanji’s eyes fall on the three men on their backs around Zoro and sighs; “so, they know.”

“Y/N’s not at the bar.”

Sanji’s eyes widen, head snapping towards the bar before he curses. “They knew who I was, tried to corner me like you. We should find Luffy and Usopp–”

“There’s no time.” Zoro cuts in, shaking his head. “You go. I’m finding Y/N.”

Zoro is pushing his way through the crowd before Sanji can say otherwise, leaving the cook to let out a huff.

The door slams behind you the second you step through, causing you to jolt slightly in reaction. When you turn your head over to glance, Rinano is simply smiling in your direction, stepping past you and further into what you assume is his ensuite above the restaurant. You hadn’t really known where you expected Rinano to lead you, but you figured it made sense he’d have a room above the restaurant he owned–it was, after all, easily accessible for the women he’d lead from the bar.

You’re quiet, scoping the room as Rinano pulls out two wine glasses at the bar located on the far end of the room. His back is turned to you as he prepares the glasses, and you shrug, using the time to see if you can find anything; Nami had snuck into the vault you knew was in the basement but you figured there might be something worth taking in here.

“For you.”

Blinking, you turn back to Rinano, smiling faintly as you accept the glass from him and take a seat right by the bar. Rinano takes a seat across from you, swirling the wine around in his cup, eyes on you as you take a slow sip of the wine. You weren’t a big drinker and you’d been careful to monitor your intake throughout the night, not wanting to be tipsy while with a man like Rinano–but one drink wouldn’t hurt. Plus, you needed the courage to steal your nerves.

It was a whole new ballgame being alone with him like this.

Honestly, you still weren’t really sure what you were doing. You just hadn’t wanted to put Nami in any danger and tip him off at all…

“You know,” Rinano says, and your eyes fall on him, head tilting in curiosity. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

Letting out a light laugh, you shrug; “well, the food here was delicious.”

“Ah, yes, I know.” You resist the urge to roll your eyes–smug asshole. “But, if I remember correctly, you hadn’t come alone last time, right?”

Body tensing, you take another sip of your wine. “Ah, no,” you nod, setting the wine glass down as you fix the strap of your dress. “No, I came with two friends before.”

“Yes, a boy with an odd straw hat and a man with green-hair and three swords.” Rinano recalls, and your eyes squint–what was he getting at? “If I remember correctly, the green-haired man made quite a fuss about being allowed to keep his… weapons on him.”

You blink. You… hadn’t known Rinano had been watching all of that.

“Yes, well, he’s very protective of them,” you explain, leaning against the back of the seat when you feel your vision blur for a moment, head spinning momentarily.

“It’s also odd, you see,” Rinano continues, leaning forward, arms resting on his knees as he stares back at you, gaze intensely on your own. He’s waiting, you realize–watching you, more like it. Why, you’re not sure. “I could’ve sworn I saw a similar looking man watching us from the entrance all night. He seemed particularly keen on keeping his eyes on you.”

You feel your breath quicken, and somehow, you can’t explain it, your hands are shaking. Your whole body feels like it’s shaking, actually.

“The two of you seemed close that first night you came in,” Rinano continued. “I’d tried to catch your attention that entire night, but you hadn’t seemed to care when he was next to you. And him on the other hand… he’d glared at me the entire night for even looking at you. I wonder why, then… you were at my bar tonight, batting your eyelashes at me with your tits out on display?”

You stare back at him, noticing the anger and glint in his eyes as he stares back at you. Something uncomfortable twists in your chest and you’re moving to stand before you even realize. “I… I think it’s time I–” but your words get cut off as you feel your world spin. You’d stood up, you know that, but you find yourself on your back, staring up at the ceiling and your body won’t respond to you despite how hard you try to make it.

Then, Rinano is in front of you, leering over you.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” he smiles down at you, “you enjoyed the wine more than I expected.”

Your eyes widen, blinking as you feel your body slipping.

“You–you asshole!” you cry, forcing the words out but they’re more slurred than anything. Rinano just laughs, and then his hands are on you, grabbing you by the waist as he moves to pick you up. You use every last bit of strength in your body to push him off, forcing your legs to work as you move to stand but you make it one step before you’re crashing to the ground, hitting it with a hard thud that has your breath leaving you for a moment.

In a flash, you’re flipped around, Rinano over top of you.

“I imagine you thought you’d come in here, get your money’s worth and rob me blind, yes?” Rinano grins down at you, and your body refuses to move even as his hand moves to the strap of your dress, pulling it down. “But you see, Y/N, that’s not how this works. Women are simple creatures and all it takes is a pretty smile and they’ll bend over backwards for men like me. Usually, I like to pick women who have something more than just their bodies to offer me, but… well, you really did catch my eye that night.”

The strap of your dress is yanked off, while his free hand hikes the skirt of your dress up, revealing your panties and bra. Your mind screams at you to do something, but your body refuses to listen. You can feel your heart pounding madly against your chest, but nothing happens.

“St–stop!” you cry, tears welling in your eyes as you feel his hands lift you, moving to the zipper of your dress. “Get off me! Stop!” but your words are slurred as your lips begin to fail you as well. The sob that wretches past your lips is piercing as you hear the familiar sound of a zipper, feeling a cold brush against your back before the carpet of the floor scratches against your bare skin.

Rinano leers above you, eyes dazed as he moves to pull your dress off.

“You really are magnificent,” he whispers, “maybe I’ll just keep you around… you’ll be my own personal treasure.”

Your head lolls to the left, feeling his hands drift across your bare stomach as tears stream down your cheeks.

Where… where was Zoro?

You wanted Zoro.

But in the back of your mind, you knew that if Rinano had known about you, he’d known about the rest of them as well.

You feel Rinano’s fingers slip under the band of your panties when the door slams open. You can’t turn to see who it is, but the sight of it is enough to have Rinano’s eyes widening, panic flooding his vision before suddenly his weight is knocked off of you and you see a familiar flash of green blur past you before a cry echoes across the room. There’s the distinct sound of someone choking, gasping for breath, but you can’t turn and see and you’re left there, exposed and vulnerable, sobs wracking your body, until a shadow falls over you.

Zoro is suddenly there. His wide eyes are on you, panic flooding his gaze as he pulls you into his arms, pulling your dress up and back on as he zips the back of it for you. You’re limp in his grasp and you want to say something, force your mouth to move, but you can’t. All you can do is stare back at him as he pulls you into his arms.

“It’s okay,” he whispers and it’s the softest you’ve ever heard him sound. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

Nami had profusely apologized but you’d only brushed her off.

It seemed Rinano’s one mistake was he hadn’t known about Nami so everything on her end had been successful. For that, you were grateful. It wasn’t all for nothing.

The rest of the boys had come to check up on you as well the next day, clearly each worried but you’d brushed all their concerns off. It wasn’t any of their faults. It was yours… and you wouldn’t let them take the blame.

It takes a whole day before Zoro finally checks up on you.

He’s eerily quiet as he steps into the room. It’s late at night but Nami wasn’t here yet… by the look on Zoro’s face, you figure he’d asked her to hang back a minute, give you two some privacy.

You watch him, a frown on his lips as he takes a seat next to your small cot.

Then, after a minute, you speak up; “I'm sorry.”

And his eyes widen, head snapping to you in disbelief.

You just shake your head, a sob breaking past your lips as you curl into yourself. “I'm so sorry. This is all my fault. It was my idea and you could’ve gotten hurt because of me–”

Zoro cuts you off by setting his hand on your own, squeezing. Your eyes fall on him, lips left parted, sniffling. “This isn’t your fault,” he mumbles. “I came in here with every intention of telling you to never do that again… to never use you as bait but… but that wouldn’t be fair of me. And I’m not here to make you feel worse.”

Your lip trembles. “I… I didn’t think that’d happen,” you whisper, staring down at your entwined hands. “I… I was so scared.”

Shaking his head, Zoro leans forward, “I wouldn’t ever let anything like that happen to you. I’m just… sorry it got that far.”

You squeeze his hand back, “it’s okay. You came. That’s all that matters to me.”

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece live action #opla #opla x reader #zoro roronoa #zoro roronoa x reader #opla!zoro x reader #opla!zoro #opla!zoro roronoa

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bethanydelleman · 3 months

Note

I saw a post you reblogged at some point about Fanny being stuck in a time loop and it got me thinking: if the main men (both protagonists and antagonists) of the different Austen novels time travelled back to the day they first met their love interest/the start of the novel - whichever is latest so wentworth, knightley, and Edmund Bertram would travel to the day the main events of their novels start - who do you think would end up changing the least of the events and the most (intentionally or not)?

Because I feel like Knightley would change the least and Henry Tilney and the three S&S gents would come next. But like Wentworth would immediately throw the entire novel off track and like Darcy and Henry Crawford would come in close second trying to change their truly awful first impressions

(Also I just want to add that I really love your Austen takes and discussions 😊)

Thank you!

This is a fascinating idea. Here are my thoughts:

Wentworth just marches into Uppercross Cottage and proposes again. Doesn't even wait to be properly introduced to the family. He's getting Anne back NOW. (She says yes, of course)

I can imagine Darcy having a tiny little crisis as he decides if he really wants to be married to Elizabeth, maybe he could just not accompany Bingley to Netherfield and his life could go the way he planned... nah, he can't resist. Off to Netherfield he goes and he lets Bingley introduce him to Elizabeth at the assembly ball. Things progress unimpeded and by Christmas there is a double wedding and Wickham's character is known throughout Hertfordshire. He skips town and Lydia is packed off to Pemberley to benefit from some better society. (Side note: Mrs. Bennet would push Mr. Collins on Mary if she had any inclination that Darcy liked Elizabeth).

If Bingley knew everything, he'd never leave Jane. He'd return from London and marry her, no matter what Darcy or his sisters said. (I wrote that once actually)

Does Wickham count as a main? Because I don't want him having the ability to predict the future. Yikes on bikes!

Henry Crawford is very interesting, because does he actually understand where he went wrong? I'm not sure he does. Can he resist a flirtation with two very pretty sisters? That would be a fun fan fiction to write. Because if he went for Fanny right off the bat and she knew nothing else about him... he'd probably succeed with her, secret Edmund love or not. And she certainly wouldn't have a leg to stand on in refusing his proposal.

Does Edmund come back in the same timeline as Henry? That would be so agnsty! If not, he'd probably be doing whatever he could to keep Maria and Henry apart, but he's shockingly ineffective in canon, so would he even be able to change anything?

Henry Tilney would probably just try to prevent Catherine being sent home alone. He could easily come back early.

Mr. Knightley's best move would be to tell Robert Martin to propose in person. I doubt Harriet could have resisted. Then he could just sit back and watch everything else play out.

Honestly, I don't know if Frank Churchill would change a thing, other than making sure his final letter was posted to Jane. He enjoyed the subterfuge.

Poor Edward Ferrars has to travel back while engaged to Lucy? I feel like he wouldn't even want to relive the novel, there is nothing he can do anyway.

Colonel Brandon would probably change a lot. He could immediately save Eliza and challenge Willoughby. He might even spare Marianne from a lot of pain.

Reginald de Courcy (Lady Susan) would likely act as well and save Frederica earlier than in the novel.

#question response #this was very fun!#thank you #austen heroes #jane austen #pride and prejudice #mansfield park #northanger abbey #sense and sensibility #emma #persuasion #lady susan

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locketsvault · 3 months

Text

「 AYATO RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS 」

pairing: ayato kirishima x gender neutral reader

tags: gender neutral reader, human reader, relationship headcanons and scenarios, sfw relationship headcanons, nsfw relationship headcanons

warnings: angst warning for our emo boy, canon gore, nsfw content in the second half of this post, it will be marked so you can skip if uncomfortable! aged up ayato when I get to nsfw content. sexual words used in the nsfw part. not proof read.

request: hii! if it’s not too much could you write something with ayato (tokyo ghoul)? nsfw or sfw, up to you! I’m dying for ayato content ahaha ;; thank youu! (original request found here.)

word count: 1.5k

a/n: I said this in the original request post but I’ll say it here too. I’m very rusty with the plot of tokyo ghoul so forgive me if he’s ooc! I’m also anime only since I’ve been having a hard time reading the manga, though I do know what happens in the manga vs the anime. (If anyone wants me to write a proper fic on how you guys met just ask, I’d honestly love to).

// how the relationship started ⌇˚.༄

⮑ The first time you two met you were walking home from school and got attacked by a rogue ghoul. This ghoul was hunting in a no hunt zone, and you just to happened to be his prey. Ayato was surveying the area when he heard you scream and smelled human blood. Knowing who’s hunting ground it was and that it was probably the rogue ghoul he went over to see what was going on. He was surprised to see that you were fighting back, despite being hold down by the ghouls kagune and seriously injured. You actually managed to injure the ghoul too.

⮑ He took care of the ghoul trying to kill you. While half conscious you heard him mock the guy for hunting in an area with a high count of aogiri members, before tearing his head off. Right after he did you passed out from blood loss. Usually Ayato would’ve killed you or just left you to bleed out, but something about you refusing to give up struck a cord with him. So he sneakily dropped you off at the emergency room and left.

⮑ Next time you guys meet is months later, you recovered fully from the attack, only having scars to show your survival. You were sitting at a coffee shop as the sun set, as a familiar blue haired boy walked inside. At first he didn’t recognize you, and after feeling your gaze on him for a while he turns to yell at you. But suddenly the memories hit him, and he notices that your look is anything but malicious. He decided to bite back his tongue.

⮑ You two would constantly run into each other at that coffee shop. You always have him a genuine smile or silent greeting as he walked by. He found you very peculiar, how you weren’t afraid of him even though he knew damn well you knew he was a ghoul. You didn’t seem uncomfortable around his friends too, and he could tell you knew they were ghouls too.

⮑ You approached him first, having memorized his order. You gave him his coffee one of the times he came in, and thanked him for saving your life. He ofc made a negative quip about how he could care less if you died or not, but you didn’t seem to care. You intrigued him even more. So he told himself he’d give you some of his time. He’d always come to hang out with you, and without realizing it he started falling for you. He hated it.

⮑ He started pushing you away and ignoring you. He stopped showing up to the coffee shop, but he couldn’t help but watch you from afar to make sure you’re safe. One night though you get attacked again when he’s patrolling. And he absolutely loses it. He tears the other ghoul to pieces like a feral animal. He almost hurts you when you walk over to try to comfort him, he’s that crazy.

⮑ He genuinely expected you to be horrified or find him disgusting. Instead you start crying and cup his bloody cheek. His kagune is fully out, his ghoul eyes bright and burning into you, his hair absolutely disheveled. Yet you didn’t seem to care. After you cupped his cheek he could feel his heart pounding, and he slowly started to calm down.

⮑ He let his head fall into your neck as you proceed to hug him, telling him it’s okay over and over. He buried his face into your neck, taking in your scent. He was surprised when he realized the desire he felt over your scent was something quite different than he was used to. He unconsciously started nipping at your neck and scenting you, hoping to protect you as tears streamed down his face.

⮑ That night you two finally come clean about your feelings. And he, reluctantly after lots of reassurance, decides he wants to try being in a relationship with you.

// sfw relationship headcanons ⌇˚.༄

⮑ At the start of your relationship he was very distant and awkward. He wasn’t used to affection and had never been in a committed relationship before.

⮑ He has a habit of stalking you, but not because he doesn’t trust you, he’s just that scared of losing you. You ofc know he does this and you let him, he’s your little protector.

⮑ In front of everyone else he’s an absolute brat, he misbehaves left and right and is very dangerous and powerful. But with you he’s an absolute puppy. Just one touch and he folds.

⮑ You’re the reason he’s able to keep it together as much as he does. You’re always there for him no matter what. Your arms are always open waiting for him when he comes home.

⮑ Speaking of home you two secretly live together once you move out of your parents house. He keeps your relationship as much of a secret as possible. But you don’t mind.

⮑ He panicked the first time you saw him eat leftovers at home. Knowing he eats humans is one thing, seeing it is another. He was scared you’d be uncomfortable or say something inappropriate. So he puffed up like a porcupine ready to defend himself. Instead, you reassured him it was okay. Surprisingly you sat down with him and started eating as well.

⮑ Now though if he eats he will sit next to you nonchalantly and sometimes rest his head in your shoulder as he does. You make him feel that safe.

⮑ He confides in you about his familial issues and all about his big sister. You do your best to help him talk better with Touka, it’s not easy though.

⮑ He’s actually very affectionate when he opens up. He loves hugging and holding you, along with giving you kisses. He tends to greet you with forehead kisses, it’s nice. :>

⮑ He’s pretty good with keeping you up to date on what’s going on in the ghoul world, and you help him with navigating the world as a human.

⮑ You balance each other very well.

// nsfw relationship headcanons ⌇˚.༄

⮑ Ghoul smut, yippee.

⮑ I think we can all agree on the ghouls and pheromones and instincts and stuff like that. I’ve actually read a bunch of stuff on ghouls on this app but it’s been months and I can’t remember so forgive me.

⮑ He’s very very verryyyy possessive. Even from the start.

⮑ He won’t act on it though, he’s not ready and doesn’t want to scare you off. But boy does he get the urge all the time.

⮑ Blood kink. He loves to taste you on his lips. Biting kink too. He will leave marks, and they’ll almost always be enough to draw blood. With consent ofc.

⮑ He actually almost lost control over himself the first time you two made out.

⮑ I should probably mention you turn him on fast. Your smile, your scent, your body language. All of it gets under his skin.

⮑ Your first sexual encounter with Ayato was in an alleyway actually. It was night time, he was walking you to your shared apartment. Somehow, you ended up pressed against the wall, holding onto your boyfriend as his fingers worked magic on you. You desperately tried to stay silent since you were in public but you struggled. Even if he had little to no prior experience he’s naturally talented and knows exactly how you work.

⮑ Your first intercourse was actually kind of sweet. It was when you first moved into your apartment, your building had rooftop access. So you two camped out on the roof to watch the stars. It started off with hand holding and innocent kisses, yet somehow he ended up between your legs pounding into you.

⮑ He prefers doing the work and being dominant when it comes to sexual activity. But sometimes he will let you on top. He can’t resist the sight of you riding him.

⮑ He’s very touchy, his hands are always all over you. No matter the position you can feel his hand sliding up your inner thighs or sides.

⮑ The first time you asked him to fuck you as a ghoul he was hesitant, worried you’d be scared. He was shocked instead when you came hard the first time. He will usually let his eyes show, but sometimes he will let out his kagune too upon request.

⮑ Ayato is average length and thick, and he knows how to use it. He loves his cock, I’m sorry but he does. He loves when you try to stroke him off, or when you get down on your knees for him instead. But most of all he loves the look on your face when he makes you cum with it.

⮑ Ghouls have extra strength so he has to be careful with you, there are definitely some times where he’s accidentally hurt you while learning your limits.

⮑ He doesn’t use protection. He knows you’re both clean, and if you’re afab since you’re human he honestly believes he can’t knock you up. That being said though, he loves breeding you.

main hub ✦ masterlist ✦ to do list

#tokyo ghoul #tokyo ghoul x reader #ayato x reader #ayato kirishima x reader #ayato kirishima headcanons #ayato x gender neutral reader #ayato x gn reader #ayato kirishima x gender neutral reader #ayato kirishima x gn reader #tokyo ghoul headcanon

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lovelybrooke · 4 months

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I'm really tired of seeing people use the "AroAce is a spectrum" argument when it comes to Alastor, especially now that the show is getting more popular. I just want to talk it about it a bit, since y'know, I'm AroAce and have a lot of opinions on it.

For reference, I've been a on and off fan on Hazbin Hotel for a long time. The pilot came out around the time I was in middle school and it was a large part of my personality for my younger years. Obviously I fell off it as I got older, but my point still stands.

Alastor was the first time I ever saw a canon AroAce character (that I knew off, I wasn't aware peridot was AroAce), and It was amazing for me. I never got to see myself be represented in a show like that, and even if he wasn't explicitly AroAce, having the creator say he was was amazing, since a lot of the AroAce characters at the time were just popular headcanons.

So you could understand my disappointment when I'd go into fandom spaces and see him be shipped with other characters, be drawn in suggestive ways, and overall his canon sexuality be ignored. Now before you comment and say "Well, Aromanticism and Asexuality are spectrums, so there's a chance he's romance and sex favorable" I want to ask you a genuine question.

Do you think that Alastor is romance and sex favorable because in the show, pilot, or any other official media he is depicted to be that way? OR, do you just think he's romance and sex favorable because it gives you an excuse to write fanfic of him where he's in romantic and sexual relationships?

I have a feeling a lot of you believe it's the second one, but would never admit it. I haven't watched the pilot in a while, but after watching through the show, there hasn't been a single point where he is shown to be romance or sex favorable. Nothing hints to that or points to that in any way.

Because ultimately this isn't about making sure you are representing his character correctly, this is about you guys disillusioning yourself into believing he's romance and sex favorable to that you guys can put him as close to allonormativity without being called out for it. You do not care about real life AroAce people who are romance and sex favorable, you care about your own comfort. And it's easier to imagine Alastor as romance and sex favorable when in reality, he's only been depicted as the exact opposite.

Do you know how I know most of ya'll don't care about real life sex and romance favorable AroAce people? Because AroAce discourse is never ending on this platform. Not too long ago there was a poll going around that had people arguing on whether or not cishet Aromantic men were valid. Aromantic people are constantly villainized and treated like monsters for having consensual loveless relationships. Asexual people constantly have their own experienced denied to their faces, and are told time and time again that they don't actually exist. AroAce people are constantly having to prove that they deserve to be in the LGBTQ+ community, and every few months there is some stupid fucking person who created discourse about a what type of AroAce gets to be in the community, just to divide us and make us feel like shit. And you know what?

You don't care.

You completely ignore or are oblivious to real life discourse surrounding the identity you claim to be an expert on. You ignore real life AroAce people who tell you you're wrong, all while going to war over your right erase an identity you really know nothing about. You would never go this hard for real life sex and romance favorable AroAce people who are constantly told they don't exist, they don't belong in the community that supposed to except them, and that they are either mentally ill or damaged. You don't care about real life AroAce people, because unless they're Tumblr sexy men, they don't matter to you.

I acknowledge that romance and sex favorable AroAce people don't get represented enough, but at some point you have to acknowledge that it less about accurately representing the character, and more about changing characters who are canonically sex/romance repulsed so that allonormative people can be more comfortable with them. If you're someone who's AroAce, and you whole heartedly believe he's romance and sex favorable, good for you, I'm not gonna argue with you.

But if you are not AroAce, and you believe he's romance and sex favorable, I want you to reevaluate why that is. I'm not saying you can't ship him, or write your fanfic, or draw your art. I'm not the police. But please try and see it from a point of view of someone other than your own. Please try and understand why taking one of the very few canonically AroAce characters and weaponizing our own identity against us so you can justify the continuous eraser of said identity is kinda annoying.

Also please don't get heated in the comments, at the end of the day this is about a fictional cannibal, I just have too many opinions.

#Hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel discourse #hazbin hotel alastor #Alastor aroace #aroace character #aroace discussion #hazbin hotel discussion

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sciencebecameouraddiction · 2 months

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my lucifer headcanons

note: these are just my own head canons. things i’ve noticed, how i write lucifer, what plays into why i write luce the way i do… etc. purely my own opinion.

- i think michael was very fond of his brother

- when the time came though to listen to dad and fulfill his duty or be a brother to lucifer michael chose duty

- the betrayal is still a sore spot for lucifer

- during lucifer’s “youth” he was curious, always dreaming up incredible creations… it was why he was dads favorite.

- he made the star fish, “because the sea deserves its own stars!” and he also made the duck. the ducks first iteration was quite a bit larger… lucifer and god compromised on a smaller duck. (more like god bribed lucifer.)

- he watched adam be made…. so he was always fond of him and lilith… until he fell in love with lilith…

- he didn’t realize it was love

- but michael knew and michael was scared. so he would draw lucifer away from the garden every chance he got

- lucifer was very naive when he was cast down to hell. he knew so much, he had been alive for so long, but there was so much life experience he didn’t have.

- the first few years in hell were horrible…

- he had hope at first

- maybe it all wouldn’t be so bad

- it was really bad. like really bad. the people who came down to hell were unspeakable devils

- (this is based off a fic i read and i can’t find it, if this rings any bells pls let me know the fic name) but lucifer is continuously appalled and distraught by the atrocities committed in his name.

- it’s one of the reasons he so powerful. he has the angelic power but also the power from those who worship him and make sacrifices for him

he really hates it. a lot. makes him feel no better than the worse overlord (cough alastor cough)

- charlie has no idea and she’ll never know if he can help it

- lucifer smells like apples and vanilla musk, a hint of cinnamon and something floral or citrusy.

- the floral or citrus changes depending on his mood

- he has a huge library. he actually pops up to earth with Asmodeous sometimes and takes books.

- he saved the whole Library of Alexandria’s books before it burned down

- he’s great friends with all the sins

- arguably closest with Beelzebub and Asmodeous

- he loves claw machines. the lights, the sounds, the prize winning???? he’s so fucking happy

- he actually wears glasses to read. he doesn’t need them but he says they make him look smarter.

- is actually a pretty good leader, is not nearly as forgiving as charlie is, but he’s not inherently cruel

- his third favorite color is pink

- his first and second are yellow and red, obviously

- he has expensive ass, maximalist taste.

- he doesn’t use tech because he knows what vox does to said tech.

- he’s always wanted a dog

- he’s very touchy. shows love physically. is only this way if he likes you though

- he has nightmares almost every night

- coffee addict

- because after not sleeping he wakes up looking like death warmed over

- and that’s if he didn’t forget to eat the past few days except for random snacks and didn’t do a 48 hour blitz of staying up working on ducks or the bit of kingdom shit he does.

- he has a handful of servants who he trusts and they are the only one in the house. there’s no team. nothing like that. he keeps it very close

- this was after someone who was a servant tried to throw an angelic dagger at his head because really they wanted to kill him and thought working for him would get them close enough.

- he homeschooled charlie. he knows a lot of stuff and even knew the guy who created calculus!

#hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel #lucifer fluff #lucifer head canons #hazbin lucifer #lucifer magne #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer headcanons #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel headcanon

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brownsugarwrites · 6 months

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Under the cherry blossom tree.

Pairings: Knight!sub-zero (bi-han) x Black!outerworld princess!reader

warnings: none :) just fluff and a grumpy x sunshine trope. A little bit of slow burn .uh non canon au besties :). Reader has braids and is shorter than Bi-Han

Wc: 1.1k

Tagging: @chosoist cause she inspired me to watch and write for MK1!

The sound of your feet pattering on the floor could be heard throughout the halls of your home. With the impending war between outerworld and netherrealm your mother requested you be guarded at all times to insure your safety. Of course this upset you but you knew protesting this would not work.

Making your way into the throne room you silently thanked one of the servants for opening up the door for you. You saw your mother talking to Liu kang and one of the members of the Lin Kuai

"Thank you for trusting us your majesty" He said with a smile gracing his face

Hearing the doors open the attention was immediately put on you as you made your way down to your chair. Greeting you , you returned a sweet smile before sitting down.

"It's nice to finally meet you princess. Your mother has told me much about you." Liu kang would chirp at you. But the guy who was standing next to him looked like he didn't want to be there. Almost like he was forced (he was) to be there. He had a brooding personality and it didn't help his nose and mouth was covered by his blue mask so you couldnt make out his facial expressions.

"This is Bi-Han your highness, he will be protecting you until the war comes to a resolution."

Turning to look at your mother you smiled nervously before nodding your head at the arrangement.

You knew this was gonna be a long journey.

As the months went by the two of you went with out talking. Mainly because you were too shy/nervous in fear he would blow you off. You soon got over your nervousness by starting small and s greetinghim in the mornings and before you went to bed. Which he would respond with a head nod and a tiny smile you couldn't see due to his mask.

Little did you know he enjoyed doing your simple tasks with you such as going out to the garden to tend to your fruit trees before going over to the koi fish pond to feed the fish for the day. You learned to enjoy his company. You felt safe and comfortable around him even though little was said.

Per usual you got up for the day and met with Bi han in the living quarters where you greeted him with your sickeningly sweet good morning. Which he replied "Good Morning princess. How did you rest?"

To say you were shocked was an understatement. You were more so worried about the way your stomach was filled with butterflies at his words and deep voice. Quickly snapping out of your thoughts you smiled and started to make small talk with him.

He may not exactly show it but he actually liked doing the mudane things you do in the day. Like watching you plant and take care of the fish which pulled on his heart strings a little.

But he would never let it show.

He noticed your nervousness and could tell you wanted to spark conversation with him so he decided to lower his guard and actually talk to you instead of giving you head nods every so often.

One day, he watched you struggle to pick the peach from the tree. He quickly stood behind you effectively reaching the peach and picking it off the tree. The two of you stared at each other as he brung his arm down to put the fruit in your basket. You gawked at his biceps flexing before clearing your throat to tell him thank you.

"Would you like to try one" you asked as the two of you went over to the bench under the cherry blossom tree (which was your favorite spot to sit in). Your peaches had finally ripen and you were excited to snack on them.

Pulling down his mask you finally got to see his full face and goodness was he beautiful under that mask.

Handing him the peach you smiled before grabbing one for yourself. Taking a bite you hummed in delight reveling in the taste of the sweet peach. Looking at Bi-Han take a bite of the peach you watched the way the juice dripped down his chin from the forceful bite. Looking down to meet your eyes he saw the hint of nervousness in your face.

"Thank you princess, I enjoyed it." He said to you with a small smile gracing his usual stern face.

Feeling those same butterflies you gave a shy smile before tucking your braids behind your ear before telling him "No problem"

As the days pass the two of you became closer and started to have lengthy conversations while sitting under the same cherry blossom tree sharing fruits.

About once every two months Liu Kang would come and check on Bi han while also bringing some of his new students he needed to train. You would watch from the balcony watching him and the students spar in the yard (while also kinda destorying everything in the process).

You couldn't help but to stare in awe at his fighting style. You knew Liu kang and your mother made the right decision to have him by your side. After his fight with who you learned to be kung lao his eyes made their way to yours watching you watch him on the balcony. Giving a small wave your cheeks began to heat up in embarrassment from his stare.

You were sure you were in love.

That same night you were preparing for bed. Putting on your night clothes and throwing your braids into a bun. Wanting to get some water to put on your bedside table you quietly walked to the kitchen to grab a cup. Pouring some into a cup and in a pitcher you began walking back to your room before hearing light footsteps coming behind you.

"Ah! Oh- Oh my goodness dont scare me like that." you said turning around slightly spilling some water on your clothes.

"My apologies princess. I just making sure you got back to your room safely."

Accepting his apologized you noticed his hair being down from its usual bun with some droplets of water dripping onto the ground. The two of you made your way back to your room before he set the pitcher of water on your table.

"You're a really good fighter" you complimented shyly

Hearing you he thanked you before making his way towards you slowly.

"Thanks for walking me back I guess. Get some rest ok?" you said looking up at his tall frame with your soft doe eyes

Bringing his hand to your chin your body quickly ran hot as your breaths became staggered. You felt his soft lips meet yours as his calloused hand went to your cheek to caresses it softly.

"Sleep well princess." He said after pulling away from you.

Giving a soft goodnight you watched him leave while closing your door. Smiling to yourself you sighed dreamily before getting in your bed for the night.

Yeah. You were definitely in love.

#mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat #mortal kombat x black!reader #sub zero x reader #sub zero x y/n #video game fanfic #x black reader #sub zero x black reader #bi han x reader #bi han x you #bi han x black reader

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annwrites · 16 days

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i'm fearless, except when it comes to you ෆ˟̑*̑˚̑*̑˟̑

— pairing: fezco x fem!reader

— type: longfic

— summary: you & fez have been best friends since kindergarten. and eventually, that friendship turns into so much more.

— tags: friendship, fwb, falling love, so much fluff, found family

— tw: canon-typical violence, murder, domestic abuse, death, cussing, guns, sex

— word count: 8k

— a/n: i'm actually really proud of this one. who knew me wanting to write 1 scene would turn into...this lol.

Since you were five-years-old, you and Fezco had been best friends. Practically inseparable. Two halves of a whole.

He’d been your first kiss in kindergarten, and when you were sixteen and he seventeen—your first time.

It'd started out with the two of you lying together on the couch watching a movie, you pressed against his side, his arm around you, which had led to him tickling you on the floor, to him gently moving his hand under your shirt. And then he'd been given your blessing to remove each item of your clothing one-by-one until you were naked before him.

He'd seen you undressed before—more times than he could count—from you just getting out of the shower and raiding his closet for a t-shirt to wear to bed, dropping your towel right in front of him as you dressed, to you trying on clothes in front of him.

Not to mention the summer before, when there'd been a three-day blackout and the apartment had gotten to damn-near a hundred degrees. So the two of you had—through nervous giggles—stripped down naked and hold up in his room, lying on his bed and just talking. For hours.

You'd cursed the power when it came back on.

But this instance had been different. Context mattered. The most intimate thing the two of you had done before this was making out with tongue, his hands never touching any other part of you than your face or hips.

And so the both of you had spent the next fifteen minutes on the floor with your legs thrown over his shoulders, his face between your thighs. When you had finished, him kissing you there a few times, he'd rested his chin on your pelvic bone, smiling up at you.

He'd then gotten up, him taking your hand in his as he led you to his bedroom and the two of you had made love.

He'd been slow, gentle, sweet. His fingers twined between yours, soft kisses shared between the two of you as he eased himself in and out of you, telling you more times than you could count how much he loved you.

You'd cried after, tears of happiness, as he held you in his arms, pressed against his chest.

And that night something permanently shifted between the two of you. What you had, had become so much more than friendship. You couldn't even call it love, because you'd already had that before the sex.

Perhaps falling in love? But you'd already felt that toward him beforehand.

In the end, neither of you felt a need to put a label on what you had, what you were. You loved each other and that was all that mattered.

The two of you were faithful to one another. You didn't even look in another's direction. Your eyes were only for each other.

And you took care of him and he you.

You grew up in a rough household, which was putting it lightly. You showed up to Fez's with fresh bruises fairly regularly, until one day he'd had enough.

Eventually, the day came when he'd put his foot down and told you that you were moving in and that was the end of it. You'd agreed easily.

Fez wasn’t going to tolerate his abusive behavior toward you just on principal, but the fact he’d endured such treatment himself…your dad was lucky that Fez had let him live so long.

So, he'd driven you home, gathered your things—what little you had—loading them all into his car, but just before leaving, your dad had showed up, high as a kite, screaming that you weren't going anywhere.

He'd grabbed you, and hit you right in front of Fezco.

You'd never seen Fez lose his temper before that day. He'd hauled off on your dad, and when he released you, Fez had told you sternly to get in the car and to stay there.

You'd watched, trembling, as he beat your father to a bloody pulp. He'd then grabbed the back of his head by his hair, forcing him to look to the passenger side where you sat and he brought his mouth close to his ear, pointing to you, his top lip in a permanent sneer as he said something to him. Your dad had nodded fervently before Fezco let him go, his face smacking off of the pavement when he did.

He'd then walked around to the driver's side and sped away, holding your hand in his the entire time he drove the two of you back to what was now your new home.

Your hands had been trembling, but not out of fear of him. No, you were never afraid of him.

Rather afraid of your father calling the police on Fez just to get even.

Thankfully, that never happened.

You'd lightly ran the fingers of your opposite hand over his bloodied knuckles and he'd shrugged—reading your mind. "Be alright. He finally got what he had comin'."

That night, you'd showered with him, gently washing the blood from his face, tending to his now-swollen knuckles. He'd told you not to bother, but after, you'd put antibiotic ointment on them, wrapped them in clean bandages, and held a bag of frozen vegetables against them as the two of you lied in bed in silence.

Your being so quiet had made Fez uneasy. You were always talking his ear off—which he adored. But he knew you feared men; understood it. Your father had instilled such a feeling inside of you at a young age.

He'd never forget the one and only time you'd flinched at his touch.

When you were younger, you'd hid it well—your at-home life—but one day, when you were thirteen, the two of you had been hanging out at the shop, and you'd been helping Ash stock shelves. At one point, you'd turned and Fez had been behind you. He'd lifted his hand to grab something off the top shelf and you'd flinched so hard you'd slammed your head into the display, nearly knocking it over.

You'd burst into tears near-instantly, running into the back and locking yourself in the bathroom for nearly an hour.

He'd stood on the other side of that door, fighting back tears himself just from hearing you in so much pain. He'd begged softly for you to please let him in—all he wanted was to hold you—but you'd told him, quietly, that you didn't want to be touched at that moment.

He'd understood, but it had still stung. He wanted to be a safe place for you. A safe person. A safe man.

Once you had finally come out, your eyes and nose both red from crying, you'd slowly looked up to him and his eyes had been full of a feeling you couldn't place. Sympathy? Pity?

You later realized it had been love.

He'd sat you down and you finally told him everything.

He'd never been more angry in his entire life, but he didn't show that to you. Not for a moment. He never ever wanted you afraid of him. Not for one fucking second.

So you lying there next to him, completely silent... He couldn't not do—say—something.

He rolled over, setting the bag of vegetables to the side and he gently caressed your cheek. "I never meant to scare you. 'M sorry if-"

You raised your head up enough to press your lips to his, cutting him off. You kissed him long and deep and he let you, enjoying every moment.

When you pulled away, you gently ran your fingers through the beginnings of a beard that he was trying to grow. "I'm not scared of you."

He'd studied you for a moment, running the fingers of his injured hand through your soft hair, his eyes looking into yours before he finally pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, whispering to you that he loved you before the two of you fell asleep, his body wrapped around your own.

Adjusting to living with Fez hadn't been all that difficult. You already spent nearly every day over there with him and Ash, cleaning, cooking, sometimes decorating. You'd even occasionally buy fresh flowers to put in cheap vases on the windowsill—Fez refusing to throw them out until they were brown and wilting. But you still worried, nonetheless, that he would eventually tire of you; deeming that he'd made a mistake in asking you to live with him.

Hanging out regularly was one thing. Being around each other every waking and non-waking moment of every day something else entirely. And what would Ash think?

Your fears of Ash feeling like you were just barging into he and his brother's home—because that's what the two of them practically were to one another—was put to rest the next morning, with Ash telling you over breakfast that it was "'bout damn time" and that he had apparently told Fez once that the two of them should've "taken your old man out a long time ago" after you showed up with a black eye one night.

Fez had only smirked, shrugging, replying with a "maybe so", brushing his foot against yours under the table.

In truth, it made Ash very happy to see the both of you together—whether you both wanted to call it "being together" or not—he thought it incredibly stupid that the two of you didn't just call yourselves boyfriend and girlfriend.

He'd never say it out loud, but he saw you as a maternal figure, and he was grateful to have you around all the time now. He told Fez it was just so they wouldn't have to worry about where to bury your dad's body anymore, but in reality...clean sheets, freshly-washed clothes, and hot dinners every night were a really nice thing to have. And there'd been that one time you'd taken care of him when he came down with the flu and spent the next three days puking up his fucking guts.

The three of you may've been small and all coming from broken homes, but together you made what felt like one big family.

You didn't mind—never had, really—that Fez was a drug-dealer. He'd talked to you about it a few days after your fully settling in, telling you that you living there was putting you at risk.

It'd been different when you were just there hanging out; if the police busted in, you could easily feign ignorance of his...business ventures.

He made it clear that he wanted you there, but understood if you left because you had some place better to live.

Even if the both of you knew you had nowhere else to go.

He told you if SWAT busted down the door, or he was arrested, you'd go down right alongside him as an accomplice. That no matter how much he may want to, he wouldn't be able to protect you from the cops, especially if he himself were behind bars.

You'd simply climbed into his lap, straddling him, and told him there was nowhere else you'd rather be—risk of arrest notwithstanding.

He loved you for it—loving him despite who and what he was—but the feeling that you deserved better was always there. But if you wanted to be there, he wasn't going to waste his breath trying to convince you otherwise.

Refusing to do so was the most selfish thing he'd probably ever done. Because you were his whole world and he didn't want to lose you. He wanted you there, with him.

Gradually, those lines between best friends and something more—maybe lovers—began to blur.

You'd given each other pecks on the lips before and told each other "love you" numerous times, but those pecks turned into deeper kisses, longer. "Love you" turned into "I love you".

The first time he'd seen you naked had been an accident. You'd just gotten out of the shower and had walked into his room to dress. He'd been unaware you were naked when he had pushed the cracked door open, leaning in the doorway, asking if you wanted to get takeout that night—Ash offering to go pick it up.

He'd froze when he saw you clutching one of his t-shirts to your middle, every inch of your naked frontside visible to him.

It was like his mind had short-circuited in that moment and all he could manage to do was stare. And stare. Eyes wide, mouth hanging slightly open.

And while you hadn't frozen, you stood there anyway, wanting him to look at you. Finally, he had walked over, gently taking the t-shirt from your grip before unfolding it and slipping it on over your head. You looked up to him, tucking your hair back behind your ears, now slightly embarrassed. "Chinese sounds good."

He smiled down at you.

Over time, you started wearing more and more of Fez's clothes. Mostly to bed. And only ever just t-shirts. You eventually stopped bothering with panties. And he certainly noticed when you were in the kitchen, reaching for a glass on the top shelf of a cabinet. He told himself for the longest time he'd move them down lower, but never did.

He had offered to sleep on the pullout couch when you first moved in, telling you that his bed was all yours if you wanted it, but you'd instead asked "what if we just slept together". He liked that idea much better.

He himself usually slept naked, but opted for wearing boxers to bed for awhile for your sake. One night, however, he took them off beforehand, heart pounding, but curious what your reaction might be to him doing so. You'd merely glanced up to him, flushed, then said, "oh" before looking back to the book you were currently reading.

After he climbed into bed beside you, you eventually gave up on the page you'd tried to read five times in a row and decided to lie down for the night as well. It was almost three a.m. before you found sleep.

The next night, as payback—rather, you wanted to be naked beside him, but never would admit that out loud—you had come into the bedroom, Fez playing something on his Xbox, and shut the door behind you before reaching down to the hem of his t-shirt you had on and pulling it off, tossing it on the floor.

All you could remember was him cursing as he lost the round, his attention now firmly elsewhere.

And then it became nightly: the two of you going to bed naked, but never doing anything more intimate than talking before going to sleep.

Sometimes each of you would wake up with the other wrapped around you, but when morning came, neither of you said anything about it. It was just the way things were. Sometimes the two of you found each other in your sleep. Sometimes not.

Fez tried to drive you to and from school as much as possible, but between the shop and dealing, it wasn't always feasible, since he needed to be home a lot. You understood that, but always felt giddy when you saw his black Impala in the parking lot. Him usually leaning against the passenger side smoking, waiting for you.

Others would stare as you ran into his arms, squealing as he picked you up and spun you around—your legs wrapped around his middle—but neither of you paid your classmates any mind.

He'd drive you back home with his hand between your thighs, rubbing his thumb against the soft skin of your leg, his other hand resting over the steering wheel.

The one time you'd taken his hand and moved it under your panties instead, he'd swerved into another lane, nearly causing a wreck. You'd sheepishly apologized, and never did it again.

He'd merely told you with a laugh "Lemme know next time you're gonna do something like that, baby, so I can pull over first".

Sometimes, neither of you could wait that fifteen minute drive back home and he'd pull off into a secluded spot off the main road and you'd climb into his lap, unbuckling his belt, him pulling your panties to the side under your dress as he eased into you.

You both prayed your birth control had worked every time he came inside of you.

He had promised you in the dark of the bedroom one night, however, that if one day it didn't, he'd take care of you. Both of you. If that's what you wanted.

You'd pressed your naked body even closer to his and whispered that it would be.

After school, once your homework was completed, you'd sometimes clean the apartment, the windows open and your favorite music drifting down the hall as you checked in on his grandma every once in awhile, making sure she was alright.

Other times, you'd go to the shop with him and watch as he worked. Once, shortly before closing, you'd been sitting atop a freezer in the front near the register, which housed various types of ice-cream. Fez had been between your legs, which were wrapped around his middle, your panties already in his pocket. You'd had your fingers clutching the gold chain around his neck, holding him in place as the two of you kissed, his hands gripping your bare hips under your dress, your slickness making a wet spot on the front of his jeans.

Until you were rudely interrupted by a boy you went to school with, but had never bothered learning the name of. He was tall, brunet, with an unhappy look on his face as he watched the two of you.

"Could somebody ring me up already?" He said, voice full of impatience, if not also a hint of disgust.

Not that either of you cared.

Fez had given you a peck on the nose and stepped away with a "back to work; you gotta stop distracting me, shawty" before bagging his things and sending him on his way.

You laughed, since he was the one who'd lifted you onto the cooler in the first place, and stealing your panties had been all his idea.

The guy had given you a dirty look as he left, but as soon as Fezco had his lips on your neck and his hand between your thighs, you quickly forgot about him.

When Fez was making deals in the apartment, you were always instructed to stay in the bedroom with the door locked, and for you to stay quiet. You never argued, understanding he sometimes did business with some very nasty and dangerous people.

You feared for his safety at times, but he was good at what he did and had never had any negative altercations thus far.

And he was always packing.

Which may or may not have turned you on all the more when you were in his lap and could feel a gun in his waistband.

You once told him as much and his brows had raised, a quite-surprised expression overtaking his features. "really?" he asked in disbelief. All it had taken was moving his hand between your legs and a "really" in reply before the two of you had sex right there on the couch. Twice.

After that day, he began cleaning his guns a lot more often, right in front of you. You usually just smirked and laughed about it, but it always got him his desired result—you inevitably coming over and silently taking his hand, leading him into the bedroom.

There had been a night when the two of you were in the middle of having sex when someone had started pounding on the front door. You'd immediately froze, staring up at him with wide, frightened eyes.

Ash had been outside your door immediately, telling Fez to get a gun—he already had his—and come find out who it is.

Fez had slipped out of you, quickly dressing, telling you to stay put as he hid a pistol in the back of his pants, exiting the bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind him.

You'd walked silently over to the door, pressed your ear up against it, and listened for something—anything. Praying whatever was about to transpire...if it ended badly, that it would be for the other party.

You heard male voices. You were unable to make out what was being said, but the voices weren't raised, and the door hadn't been slammed or kicked in. So you'd gone back to bed, now a bit calmer, and eventually you drifted off to sleep.

But you had fucked up in forgetting to lock the door.

When Fez found Mouse in the bedroom, looking down at you sleeping—thankfully clutching blankets to your front, only your back bare—his hand brushing some hair out of your face, tracing his knuckles along your soft cheek, Fez had filled with murderous rage.

"Get. Out. This room is off fuckin' limits."

Mouse had only glanced back to him. "Door was unlocked, homes. Told you I was lookin' for the bathroom. Guess I chose the wrong room," he said with a shrug.

Fez took a step closer. "Told you it was at the very end of the hall. This look like the end of the fuckin' hall to you?"

He was beginning to raise his voice and you stirred in your sleep, then settled again. Mouse turned a bit more toward him, raising a finger to his lips. Then, "She's fuckin' fine, man. Looks like you got yourself some A1 pussy, if I say so myself." He smirked. "Ever think of sharin' with a brother?"

If Fez didn't get him out of the bedroom and even further away from you, and soon, he was going to commit a felony.

"I don't fuckin' share, so no."

When Mouse looked back to him, not liking his tone, he immediately took note of the gun that was now-visible in his front waistband, his t-shirt tucked behind it.

Mouse then looked into his eyes, the two of them staring one another down for just a moment, before Mouse finally stepped away from you. "Normally, I wouldn't tolerate that threat shit. But I'll give you a pass tonight. I know how it can be when a bitch got you wrapped around her finger."

As they stepped back out into the hall, Fez locking, then closing the door behind him, he gave Mouse a simple reply: "Don't ever fuckin' talk about her like that again."

Rue becomes the first person Fez eventually refuses to deal to.

She doesn't take kindly to his refusal, and you can see how much her reaction to it hurts him—the obscenities she screams at him, yelling that he was the one who had made her into what she had become. All you could do was press yourself against his back, wrapping your arms around him, waiting for her to leave.

He'd leaned his head against one of the walls in the hall and whispered "I did the right thing, right?" to you, which you had replied that he had, that this was the best thing for her, and that you loved him.

But that day hadn't been the last time either of you would see her. Your dislike for her grows as she gets Fez involved in her own personal issues with your fellow classmates, like Nate Jacobs. The same boy who'd given you both such a nasty look the day you'd been enjoying one another's company atop the cooler.

Nate comes by one day, once again late at night, and Fez makes it clear that he's to stay clear of Rue and her friend, Jules.

Nate had insulted Fez, then had asked, after Fez had threatened his life—staring at you all the while—if the list of people he was to stay away from included anybody else, or if 'lil' miss white-trash-beautiful' was free game.

You'd raced over to Fez before he could do something he would end up regretting as he quickly stepped around the register, taking both of his hands in yours, telling him what Nate had said didn't matter and to just let it go—let him go. You'd begged him to just look at you, but he refused to do so until Nate had finally driven away.

And then he had. He'd removed his right hand from yours and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, gripping your chin in his fingers, before looking into your eyes. "If he ever comes near you again, I won't hesitate to put his ass six feet in the fuckin' ground".

You never told him how wet that one comment alone had made you. He didn't need anymore encouragement to go after and kill him.

And then the cops had raided the apartment and you, Fez, and Ash had scrambled to flush all the drugs down the toilet, Fez panicking, telling you to climb out one of the windows, but you refused to leave the two of them.

And that night was the first time you'd not only had a gun pointed at you, but the first time you'd ended up in cuffs.

You and Ash had sat on the floor while the police questioned Fezco for the next over an hour about where the drugs were, all while he played stupid.

And then the cops had laid into you, telling you that they could help you—get you away from your "abusive lowlife boyfriend", that they could "get you into rehab if he had you strung out, if you'd just cooperate". You did just as you and Fez had rehearsed and used tears to your benefit, telling them you didn't have any idea what they were talking about. That the three of you had just been getting ready to make dinner when they'd torn your home apart.

That Fez loved you.

And then you took the lie a step further, telling them to please uncuff you. Your stomach hurt and you were worried all of this stress was going to make you miscarry. You'd begged them—you couldn't lose your baby.

Fez had sat there frozen, completely fucking petrified, staring at you, a thousand thoughts going through his head. The most prominent among them? He'd nearly gotten you killed all over a few grand in narcotics. You, and your and his baby both.

The sob story hadn't deterred the police in their interrogation. The most they'd done was uncuff your hands, which you'd then gingerly placed over your stomach.

Once the police had left, Fez had dropped to his knees in front of you, pressing his hands to your stomach, asking over and over again if you were ok, if they baby was ok.

Ash had called him "fuckin' stupid", asking if he'd really believed that.

Fez had looked up to you confused and your face went red with embarrassment. "I thought it would get them out faster."

Hurt flashed across his features then, and you felt sick with yourself.

That night, you'd apologized profusely in bed, but so did he.

In the end, the both of you decided there was nothing which needed forgiven.

Fez admitted, only for a moment, that the thought of the two of you having a baby had actually...excited him, even if he worried about what sort of life he could provide for the both of you.

And then you'd told him when the time came, the both of you would figure that out together; it wasn't all on him. And then you had had sex. And for the first time, even if it was incredibly stupid of him, Fez hoped something more would come from it.

When you'd expressed fear to Fez of what would happen with people he owed money and product to now that he couldn't pay them, he'd merely told you that he'd "take care of it".

When he came back home one night with a few grand in a duffel bag, you never asked where it had come from. You'd just helped him count and hide it.

And then you had washed his bloody clothes, telling him to also shower to remove the evidence of whatever he had done.

Fez hadn't told you his intentions for the New Year's Eve party at Virgil's. He'd simply told you that the three of you were going to have a good time. And on the way there, he'd promised to kiss you at midnight, earning a groan from Ash in the backseat, which had made you laugh.

As the clock struck closer to that time, however, Fez had excused himself from the couch the two of you were seated on, saying he was getting up to get a drink. You'd tensed up as you watched him and Nate converse for a moment, Nate looking at you for a moment.

And that's when Fez had busted a bottle over his head.

Nate had fallen to the floor, Fez climbing on top of him and beating him within an inch of his life.

You'd stood by, horrified, as Nate's face became more and more bloodied and swollen. It took two guys to pull Fez away and once they had, he'd quickly grabbed your hand, leading you out of the house, Ash already waiting in the car.

And that's when you realized it had all been pre-planned.

You'd asked him why on the way home, and he'd told you his theory that, after him threatening Nate, he'd been the one to call the cops. And him making a vulgar comment about you—once again—had been the last straw.

You and Fez fucked until you were sore that night.

Some weeks later, Nate's dad showed up and Ash beat the living hell out of him with the butt-end of a rifle every time he got smart as Fez questioned him, until blood was pouring from the top of his head.

The more he and Fez talked, the more confused every one of you grew. By the end, Fez had something monumental over Cal—and you supposed, by extension, Nate, as this getting out would ruin the entire Jacobs family—he'd made a sex-tape with Jules. He'd said at one point that he "didn't know". Fez had of course misinterpreted what he'd meant.

But you understood.

Either he was lying, or he truly hadn't known she was a minor. Either way, he had made a disc which contained...something that would land him in prison for perhaps the rest of his life. And if he was anything like his son, maybe he would deserve it.

You, Fez, and Ash had stayed up most of the night in the living room, Little House playing softly in the background as the three of you debated what to do with the new information you’d been given.

Ash wanted to report him to the police—destroy his and Nate’s life. Mostly Nate’s for the raid, which you were sure Ash would never get past.

You wanted to sit on it. You didn’t want to do anything rash. Not yet. You weren’t even sure that—once he was out of the hospital—you wanted Nate aware of what you all now knew about his father. It would’ve provided some sick sense of satisfaction to throw such a thing in his face, sure. But he’d—at least most likely—called the cops on you all once already.

There was no telling what he might do if you blew his entire life up in the worst way possible.

As for Fez, he’d stated the obvious: unless you all got ahold of a copy of that disc, what you all knew didn’t mean shit. Only having solid proof of what Cal had done would get you anywhere.

And so the subject was dropped. But it was always there, waiting. As was the paranoia of Nate going a step further in getting revenge after what had happened during New Years.

You lost a bit of sleep over it all for a few weeks.

That constant stress loomed over your head of losing everything.

And you knew if Nate did it—if he sought vengeance again—it would be the last time. Fezco would kill him. And you’d do whatever was asked of you to help. Even though you knew Fez would never involve you in such a thing.

He’d already tried to destroy the life you all had worked so hard to build and keep ahold of once. It wasn’t going to happen again.

But, surprisingly, once Nate had recovered and was back at school…nothing happened.

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And just as you were beginning to grow comfortable again, Mouse was beginning to become more and more of a problem. Constantly pushing for Fez to sell more product and earn more money and give him a bigger cut.

Until the night Ash killed him with a hammer.

You’d been locked in the bedroom, same as always, some cheesy romance movie on TV which was slowly putting you to sleep, until you heard yelling.

You’d jolted awake, heart racing, fear running through you.

And then you’d done something very stupid.

You’d gone in the closet, retrieved one of Fez’s glocks and exited the bedroom. You’d stepped quietly down the hall—silent as can be, your heart pounding in your ears—then peeked around the corner and you had froze when you saw it.

Mouse was dead, Custer and Ash screaming at each other—blood pouring from Custer’s nose, which was now a bloody mess.

Ash insistent that, had he not done it, Mouse would’ve shot Fez.

You’d gasped, dropping the gun. It thumped against the floor, making all three of them turn toward you as you covered your mouth, tears now slipping from your eyes as you choked back panicked sobs.

Fez quickly stepped over to you, turning you away from the gruesome sight before you as he held you against his chest with one hand, the other coming up to cup the back of your head. He’d whispered soothing words, telling you—promising you—that everything would be ok. That he would explain it all to you later. But, for right now, he needed you to go back in the bedroom and not come back out until he told you otherwise.

You’d looked up to him, your chin wobbling, and nodded, turning to go back down the hall.

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You had nightmares for weeks afterward. About Mouse not actually being dead and coming to kill all three of you. Or about the cops coming to take Fezco and Ash away. Once, you’d had a dream about Fezco standing over you with a pistol. You’d shot up in bed, drenched in sweat, a gunshot ringing in your ears.

You never told him about the last one.

The others you weren’t exactly able to hide. The two of you usually fell asleep with you in his arms, pressed close to his chest, his thigh wedged between both of your legs. So when you would start to whine or cry or thrash in your sleep…well, it obviously woke him as well. And usually it took the better part of an hour for him to calm you enough before you managed to fall back asleep.

You drug at school most days, daydreaming about getting back home, stripping, and crawling beneath the covers for a couple of hours before getting up to make dinner and do your homework.

Until you started waking to dinner having been prepared for you and Ash having done your homework, even if you insisted that him doing so wasn’t necessary—he had enough on his plate. But he usually just brushed such insistence off.

Eventually, the nightmares started to lessen and you did your best to forget about Mouse. About that night. And your life, once again, returned to normal.

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The most exciting thing that even occurred came a few weeks later: the news coming to light that Nate had apparently been hooking up with Cassie while he and Maddy were broken up…or on a break…or whatever they were. You didn’t really care.

And then had come Lexi’s play, where she’d seemingly cast knock-off versions of all of her friends and their friends and aired all of their dirty laundry for the whole school to see.

You’d skipped it, but had heard bits-and-pieces about it around school. A small part of you even wished that you had gone to it just to see Maddy and Cassie beating the crap out of each other on-stage, if nothing else.

Instead, you had stayed home with Fez and Ash, the three of you eating dinner and then playing Monopoly, which you were sure Ash had cheated at, but you couldn’t prove how.

Fez had tried to bribe you into selling him your properties through the promise of whispered sexual favors—Ash yelling for him to ‘knock it the fuck off’, and that he ‘wasn’t being fair’. You’d given him Park Place without qualms and it had earned you half an hour of oral once you were both in bed for the night.

Boardwalk had earned you him tying you up and having his way with you. He’d asked how, exactly, that was supposed to be considered you winning something for yourself when he was getting to have all the fun, but you’d replied simply by spreading your legs and calling him daddy.

He’d had no idea what to do with that other than laugh.

You’d flushed out of embarrassment, having never called him that before, but he’d made love to you for over an hour anyway.

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During the summer, between your junior and senior year, the best day of your life happened. Up until that point, that is, at least.

You’d gone out to run a few errands—Fez and Ash continuously sending you things they’d forgotten to ask you to pickup before you’d left—your fuse growing shorter with every item you had to backtrack in the Impala to go get.

When you finally got back to the apartment, ready to explode once you got through the door, you’d stopped, all anger leaving you when you took in the sight before you.

The windows were open, the apartment spotless, and candles and flowers everywhere. And right in front of you was Fezco, down on one knee, a small box with a ring inside in his trembling hand.

You’d dropped the groceries you’d been holding, your hands coming up to rest over your mouth as tears welled in your eyes.

You’d stepped closer, until he took your left hand in his, and he said so many sweet and loving things.

He told you how you were the love of his life, how you held his heart in the palms of your hands, how you were the only woman he had and would ever want. He told you how desperate he was to start the rest of his life with you as his wife, how he wanted to give you his name—the first of many things he wanted to give you—or, rather, continue to give you as he had already done so much for you.

And you’d dropped to your knees and kissed him, deeply. And you had of course said yes. And he’d slid the simple diamond ring on your finger that he’d found at a pawnshop almost an hour of town (he’d scoured all the ones nearby, but nothing had seemed right—none had been the one for you), until one was.

And then you’d made love right there on the floor.

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Senior year, you stayed to yourself. You didn’t bother making friends with the other students, or seeing what their lives were like. You wanted no part in any of that—their breakups and fights and stupid shallow drama. You just focused on your life with Fez and Ash and their grandma, Marie.

You and Fez had actually gotten married two weeks after his proposal. It felt strange—sitting in the middle of English class as you filled out worksheets and kids snickered amongst themselves in the back—when you glanced down to your wedding ring, knowing you were now someone’s wife.

And you’d never felt happier.

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A little over a month before graduation, you found out you were pregnant. And when you told Fez, presenting him with a custom-made t-shirt which said ‘Best Dad on the West Coast’, he’d cried, pressing kiss after kiss to your stomach, promising he would be the best father he could be.

You’d given Ash a similar gift, but instead of ‘dad’, it had said ‘brother’—since you considered him a sort of surrogate son—and he’d taken the t-shirt, nodding his head, his brows furrowed, and had excused himself after muttering ‘thanks’, and you knew it was so he could go cry in private.

When you graduated, the two of them, even Faye and Custer, had been in the crowd and they’d screamed…unbelievably loud as you walked the stage. You’d smiled so wide it made your cheeks hurt and all five of you had taken at least a hundred pictures after.

And then you’d all gone to dinner, Faye and Custer giving you a graduation gift, which had actually been a cute onesie for the baby, which said ‘mommy’s girl, daddy’s world’ on the front, causing tears to gush from your eyes, which you then blamed on the hormones.

You’d then all gone bowling and Custer had somehow managed to kick everyone’s asses, with Ash coming in as a close second. Faye had just wanted to play with the bumpers up, so you all had played another game while the guys watched—Custer and Fez drinking and joking while Ash complained that the bumpers defeated the whole purpose of the game (even if he did play with you all)—and Faye had won.

Ash had blamed it all on the bumpers, claiming they’d ‘thrown off his game’.

When you returned home, you’d been exhausted. You and Fez had taken a bath together and when you lied down in bed, he’d rubbed your feet until you fell asleep, clutching a small teddy bear to your chest.

You’d been sleeping with the toy off and on, insisting you wanted it to have your scent for when the baby finally came, so she’d have it to sleep with in her bassinet beside the bed.

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Shortly before the baby was born, Fez had gotten himself out of dealing—which hadn’t been an easy feat, to put it lightly—and had then sold the store, which had earned you all enough for him to put a down payment on a house outside of East Highland.

The move had been a pain while pregnant. Not because you had helped, but because Fez, Ash, Faye, and Custer had all refused to let you so much as lift a single box.

You told yourself, as you sipped on lemonade and watched them carry box after box down to the U-Haul Fez had rented, that now was the time to enjoy being given time off. Because once the baby arrived, you wouldn’t be getting such a break for the next eighteen years.

And you couldn't wait.

Fez had gotten himself a job in a small mechanic shop, which he quickly worked up to being partner of after the older gentleman who owed it took a shine to him and his odd, if not endearing little family.

You’d watched, once the four of you were officially moved into your new home, as Ash and Fez worked on putting together furniture in the nursery, your hand resting over your pregnant belly as you stood in the doorway as they put together your daughter’s crib.

You’d then gone to check on Fez’s grandma. And while she, as ever, never spoke, you told her everything, the same as you always had, to ensure she was always involved in your lives.

And only a few weeks later, she had passed silently in her sleep. And while Fez and Ash had been distraught, you somehow felt like you knew she was at-peace. Like she’d been holding on long enough until you all had made it to finally let go.

You’d held Fez in bed, night after night, his cheek pressed against your belly as he cried, talking about how much he missed her, or just telling wild stories of her younger days to both you and your little one.

And in time, his and Ash’s grief turned to fond remembrance. They had both just hoped that Marie would hold on long enough to meet her granddaughter, but you promised they would one day meet anyway. And they did when you would go visit her at the cemetery.

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When your little girl was born, she was loved and adored by everyone.

Faye and Custer became like a surrogate aunt and uncle. Ash was…an absolutely awesome older brother; you could tell much of how he treated being a brother came from all Fez had taught him. And Fez…well, you had to settle for only having half of his heart now. But the same went for him with yours.

And those two halves made a whole, just as they were always meant to. A whole, which belonged to your daughter and her alone.

When Hank, the owner of the auto shop, was ready to finally retire, Fez had panicked. He had a wife and baby girl to look after now—the two of you had decided that you should stay home and take care of your daughter instead of work (Fez was honestly just really old-fashioned at heart and wanted to provide for the both of you)—but his fears were quickly squashed when Hank signed the shop over to him.

He’d told Fez he’d become like a son to him, while your daughter had become the grandchild he’d never gotten to have. He wanted to make sure he did this one thing right—ensuring you all were well taken care of.

You had been inconsolable, you were so grateful when the two of them told you.

He ensured you that you all were doing him a favor, really. He’d put his life’s work into that shop, and now he knew it wouldn’t be torn down and replaced with some “nonsense hipster smoking joint”, as he’d put it. He knew Fez would look after it well.

And he did.

Fez hired Custer on, who’d also recently gotten himself and Faye moved into an apartment closer to the both of you—he no longer dealing and while it’d taken a lot of effort, Faye had gotten herself clean—and once Ash was older, he became his assistant manager.

He even taught your daughter, Carrie, a bit about cars as she grew older. Every now and again, someone from East Highland stopped in to have their car serviced, but you thankfully never saw Nate Jacobs again. You never bothered looking into what happened to the troubled young man; you didn’t really care.

When Hank passed, it hit Fez really hard. One night, after taking a bath, you’d found him in Carrie’s room, holding her as he cried silently. So you’d set down on the bed beside them and wrapped the both of them in your arms and cried with him and told him how much he had meant to him. That he would be honoring his memory as the new owner of the auto shop.

He tried to visit Hank’s grave weekly, and you did when you were able, always bringing fresh flowers, which you grew in your backyard with your daughter.

Eventually, Custer and Faye married as well, you serving as Faye’s maid-of-honor, and Fez as Custer’s best man at their wedding, which had had one hell of a reception afterward. Fez and you hadn’t gotten drunk like that since you were teenagers. Which had consequently resulted in another unexpected gift, which the two of you had decided to name Hank.

Ash eventually met a girl, and as you watched the two of them, you realized how much they reminded you of you and Fez when you were their age. It was a bit…unnerving, at times. But you knew they were just right for one another with that simple observation alone.

As the years went on, your family only grew. Custer and Faye eventually having a son of their own, Ash and his girlfriend getting married, your daughter growing up and one day meeting a girl, which she fell in love with. And your son finding himself an outgoing woman who always kept him on his toes.

And one day, you looked up, and that broken home where your father had ruled with fists was so far away, you could no longer see it.

All you could was the love right in front of you.

It’d taken unspeakable violence and struggle to get here, but you had made it.

All of you.

#fic: euphoria (fezco x reader )#fezco x reader #reader x fezco #fezco x y/n #euphoria x reader #fezco x you #euphoria x you #yeah in this one the swat raid never happens #and custer doesn't betray fez #had to give a happy ending #i'm actually really proud of this fic lol

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