#you season 4 canon divergence
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You & Me - Rhys Montrose x Reader - Part 22
Part 21 | Masterlist
Summary: What happens when reader assassin is tasked with killing the possible future mayor of London; Rhys Montrose. Politician by day, Eat the Rich Killer by night. But he isn’t the only person wearing different masks.
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Violence, murder, immoral sociopathic behaviour, mentions of alcoholism, drug abuse and neglect, smut
Word count: 4.7k
A/N: another Rhys pov! (to make up for the long hiatus lolol) Enjoy <3
Song: And so It Begins – Klergy
“The disappearance of Tom Lockwood, sir.”
Bloody hell.
Even in death, the bastard managed to find a way to disrupt Rhys’ life and well-crafted plans one way or another.
He felt a surge of adrenaline, but whereas most other people would succumb to the nerves, start sweating and rambling, make mistakes. Rhys didn’t. Instead, it only sharpened his focus, making him that much more dangerous.
The reporter had used the word disappearance, meaning Lockwood’s body hadn’t been found, meaning there was no physical evidence that could potentially link him to the crime, which ultimately meant that he was in the clear. At least for now. If he played it right, perhaps Rhys could even turn this little hiccup into a story that would reflect him positively in the press.
The mob of journalists and cameramen were waiting with baited breath for him to comment, silence befalling the crowd once more. The only sounds that could be heard were that of the bustling city around them—the honking of a double-decker bus, London’s never-ending construction noises, and the screeching of a police siren a mere two blocks away.
Rhys allowed a mixture of emotions to pass over his features. Initial shock—which hadn’t involved much acting—followed by a hint of grieving sadness, before he settled on a more calm, compassionate look. Because, like any good psychopath who studied the intricacies of human emotion, Rhys knew that that’s what the public needed to see in a leading figure. Someone who showed the appropriate level of feelings and compassion, but ultimately was able to offer reassurance and take action if need be.
“Mr. Lockwood…” Rhys shook his head, unfolding his clasped hands to convey a subliminal message of openness and sympathy. “I must say that I am deeply shocked by this news. Is there any more information regarding his disappearance?”
“News surfaced after an anonymous tip was made to The London Dispatch, a spokesperson for the T.R. Lockwood Corporation has just released a statement that they are and have been aware of the circumstances and are working on an internal investigation, the Met Police have also just reported they are launching their own investigation,” the same reporter summarised, reading off of his phone. “Any thoughts on what could have happened, Mr. Montrose?”
Any thoughts… Oh, he had plenty, alright.
An anonymous tip. To The London Dispatch. That could only be from one man: Jonathan.
Did he seriously have the balls to go to the press, knowing full well that Lockwood’s disappearance could be traced back to him? Rhys hadn’t thought he would raise the alarm after revealing that detail to him, but it seemed Jonathan was keen to call his bluff.
On the upside, Lockwood’s employees had tried to keep the whole thing under wraps, just like you and Rhys had predicted. But now that it had come out, the peace and quiet would come to an end, especially with the police’s involvement as well.
“I could not say at this time, I’m afraid,” Rhys stated, schooling his actual thoughts. “I think, as of now, the best course of action is to allow all parties involved to conduct their investigations without adding unnecessary speculation that could potentially hinder their job.”
That prompted an immediate response from the crowd.
“You don’t think Lockwood’s partners should’ve been upfront about their CEO going missing?”
“Lockwood was last spotted in Prague–”
“Hasn't his staff already been hindering the police?”
“–over two weeks ago, what are the chances that–”
“Considering these suspicious circumstances–”
“–could this be another murder?”
“I understand,” Rhys interrupted, raising his hands in an attempt to quiet the masses. “I understand the demand for answers. I do. But we have to let them do their jobs. The Met Police will get to the bottom of this and find Mr. Lockwood, I have every faith.”
Lukas stepped up to the press then, drawing their attention with a wave of his hand. “That will be all for today, everyone. Please, step aside to let Mr. Montrose pass.”
They did so begrudgingly, some ignoring his campaign manager as they kept shouting questions left and right. Rhys walked past them, thanking them for their time. His head of security met him halfway, guiding him the last couple of metres to the car.
“Where’s Y/N?” Rhys asked.
“She’s waiting in the car, sir,” Reggie answered.
“Mr. Montrose!”
“One final question, please!”
Rhys easily picked up on the thinly veiled exasperation in Lukas’ voice as he tried to reason with The Telegraph. “No can do, sir. Mr. Montrose is already late for his next commitment. If you have any follow-up questions, please feel free to send them to our office.”
But the seasoned reporter wouldn’t just let it go, following Rhys all the way to the kerb.
“Mr. Montrose! What about his family?”
Reggie had already opened the passenger door, but Rhys paused, turning back around. He had to give it to the guy, no politician in their right mind could ignore that type of question.
He wetted his lips, a mournful smile flickering across his face. “Ofcourse, I give my deepest sympathies to Mr. Lockwood’s family during these uncertain times. I hope he will soon return in good health, and be reunited with his loved ones.”
Rhys dipped his head, pouring all the sympathy he did not actually feel into a final smile before he slid into the back of the car, where he was greeted by you, sending him an amused but troubled look.
Reggie shut the door as Rhys leaned forward to speak to the driver. “Take us back to Primrose.”
“Yes, sir,” the driver nodded. “We might hit some traffic, though. There’s been an accident on Holborn and City Road.”
“That’s alright. Nothing we can do about it. Get us there as quickly as you’re able.”
“Straight away, sir.”
Rhys raised the soundproof, glass divider between the front and back of the car, giving you the privacy to talk about all that had just transpired without the driver being able to eavesdrop.
You turned to face each other as the car pulled into the stream of ongoing traffic.
“So. Deepest sympathies, huh?”
“Why yes, ofcourse, darling,” he grinned.
You snorted. “Liar.”
He was about to retort when his phone started ringing. Rhys checked the caller ID, and sighed. “Excuse me, this won’t take long,” he said, accepting the call.
“I don’t want to hear a word about Cynthia, Luke,” Rhys announced, wanting to move past his indisputable error in judgement quickly. “Go back to the office, coordinate from there. We need to get an official written statement out ASAP, one that is based on all the facts known at present.”
“Agreed, sir. I’ll fetch Brian to–”
“No. No, have Sam write it, she’ll need the experience. Just make sure to double check it before you post it online.”
“You don’t want to read it yourself? Are you not coming to the office?”
“No, I’ll meet you there later. There’s another pressing matter that requires my attention first. I trust you to handle the situation while I’m out.”
“Yes, Mr. Montrose.”
Rhys ended the call and pocketed his phone before resting his head against the headrest. What a day this was turning out to be. And it wasn’t over yet. Not by a long shot.
He must have involuntarily let out another sigh, for he felt the softness of your touch, your slender fingers wrapping around his hand.
“How is that patience of yours doing?”
“I won’t lie, it’s hanging by a thread.”
“Figures,” you smiled, squeezing his hand.
Your smile was quickly overshadowed by that same troubling look from before, one which you didn’t have to hide anymore.
“That anonymous tip… it must be–”
“Jonathan? Yes, I think so, too,” Rhys finished. “Unless you called The London Dispatch and failed to inform me of a new tactical move.”
You shook your head no as the car slowed to a stop, now officially stuck in the busy rerouted traffic. “Nope, it definitely wasn’t me,” you said, looking out the window to catch a glimpse of St. Paul’s looming presence.
It was a cloudy day, ten a penny for London, even during the summer time. The storm front may have passed, but the uncertainty of what was coming still lingered in the air.
“Whilst you were giving your statement to the press, I kept thinking, why?” You looked back to Rhys. “Why would Jonathan do this now? He knows that we put the account that was used to bribe the pilots in his name. That was supposed to keep him quiet, at least for a little while longer. So, what’s his angle?”
“I don’t know,” he shrugged, the same question dominating his thoughts. “Jonathan’s calculated. But also rash, and unpredictable, as today has clearly demonstrated… We need to act quickly before he goes from being a liability to a full-blown threat.”
You chewed your lip. “You know who else can become a threat?”
His eyes flickered between yours, trying to find an answer there as he mentally went down the long list of possible enemies he made along the way. The ones that were still able to draw breath, that is.
Only one name came to mind.
“Marcus Atkinson.”
The man who conspired with Lockwood to have Rhys removed from the upcoming elections, by categorically trying to erase him from the face of the earth.
“Atkinson,” you agreed. “So far, he’s been quiet, but there’s no telling what he’ll do now that the news of Lockwood’s disappearance has been made public.”
Rhys hummed, affirmative. “You’re right. We need to prepare for every possibility.”
“Is that why we’re going home?”
“No,” he said, a little reluctant.
You frowned, not following. “Then why did you tell the driver to take us back to Primrose Hill?”
He sighed. “Because you’re going home, whilst I go and pay dear old Jonathan a visit.”
You paused, slowly letting go of his hand as the meaning of his words landed.
“You’re what?”
“You heard me.”
Rhys set his jaw, his decision already made and final, but that didn’t stop you from glaring at him.
“And you’re sidelining me because…?”
He looked away, something flicking over his expression. “It’s the only way I know how to keep you safe.”
“Excuse me?” you scoffed. “What about me and what I do for a living gives you the impression that you need to keep me safe?”
Rhys winced. He’d anticipated this reaction from you. But there was no way in hell he would allow you and Jonathan in the same room ever again. It wasn’t that he didn’t think you could fend for yourself, because, as more than one occasion had attested, you certainly knew how to throw a punch or two. And make it hurt. He himself was privy to the knowledge.
However, he didn’t trust Jonathan and what he would do… Especially now. Besides, as far as Rhys could tell, Jonathan still didn’t know anything about your true identity. And he’d very much liked to keep it that way.
“He’s a psychopath, Y/N,” Rhys stressed.
“Right,” you drawled. “Do you want me to look up the exact definition? Because I’m pretty sure it would also include present company.”
He smiled, bitter. “I’m not planning on hurting you. Jonathan might. You know the things he was mixed up in across the pond. If he figures out how important you are to me…”
His forehead creased with genuine concern, and even in your anger, your eyes softened a little at the admission.
“I know you can take care of yourself,” he amended. “But that doesn’t take away from the fact that I want to keep you as far away from him as I possibly can.”
You nodded thoughtfully, still far from happy with his decision. But Rhys wasn’t going to change his mind, and you knew it as well.
Once again, the sound of a phone pinging interrupted your conversation. Privately, Rhys hoped it would put an end to it as well, although you quickly relieved him of that illusion. “We’re not done talking about this.”
“A man can hope,” he muttered.
You shot him a warning look as you retrieved your phone, effectively making him shut up.
He looked around, noticing they were still motionless. No. That wasn’t right. They had moved about three car lengths in the last five minutes. Progress, he thought, clocking his inner voice’s sarcasm with a wry smile. At least the extended travel time would give him a little more time to prepare for his surprise attack on Jonathan. Although, that twat was likely already waiting for Rhys to show up after the shit he pulled earlier today…
Rhys gritted his teeth as he thought of Jonathan. How he must have watched the press interview live on tele, probably thinking he’d won this game… Well, Rhys would make damn sure that his victory would be short lived.
A startled noise came from your side of the car, and his eyes shot back to you, jerking him from those thoughts.
Your wide eyes were scanning whatever message had appeared on your phone’s screen, four times over, as if making sure your eyes weren’t deceiving you. A wave of worry careened through him as he watched the colour drain from your face.
“Y/N?” he said, alarmed.
“Oh my god…”
Frantically tapping the screen, you brought the phone closer to your face. “Oh my god.”
Before Rhys even got a chance to ask what the hell was going on, you’d already pressed the device to your ear, fingers now tapping restlessly against the car’s interior door.
“Y/N,” he said, firmer this time, clasping your hand in his. You looked at him, panicked, uncertain… terrified. Rhys felt his own stomach drop. “What happened?”
You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out.
The call went straight to voicemail, and you groaned in frustration. “Damnit, she’s not answering her phone.”
“Is it Zoe? Sadie?” Rhys tried, concern slipping into his voice.
He softly squeezed your hand to garner your attention. It worked. You refocused on him, visibly swallowing a tang of adrenaline before shoving your phone into his hands. Rhys read the ID: Zoe. He was right—there were only so many people that could pull this type of reaction from you. He could probably count them on one hand.
His eyes slid down to read the most recent incoming texts, and he sucked in a breath, immediately understanding your nervousness.
>>> mum’s back
>>> please come
Your mother…
Alarm bells went off inside of him, his concern slowly getting replaced by something sharper, harder.
You’d both known the day would come, yet the words on the screen still shocked him to silence, the only thing he could muster a feeble, “Fuck…”
“Yeah…”
Rhys closed his eyes. Another person who had completely disappeared—albeit not by your doing—resurfacing. It had been quite the mystery as to what had happened to her, and you had spent many a night trying to figure out where she could have possibly gone. Without much success. But now she had seemingly returned.
The timing could also not have been better. Apparently Murphy’s Law always lurked around the corner somewhere.
“Where did she come from all of a sudden?”
“From hell, likely.”
He huffed a strained laugh. That was certainly one possibility. Rhys met your gaze, then. The initial shock had lifted, and now the fire he’d grown to love glowed bright in your eyes.
“I’ll kill her,” you whispered, unyielding. “I swear to god, if she’s hurt them… I will kill her.”
You snatched your phone from his hands, your thumbs flying over the keyboard as you typed out a series of messages in quick succession.
“Hey,” Rhys said, pitching his voice into a soothing range. “They’re gonna be okay. Just like their big sister, they can fend for themselves.”
“I know they can,” you said, still holding your phone in an iron grip. “But after what happened last time, I can’t help but worry.”
He couldn’t stop himself. “I know the feeling...”
You dropped your phone, turning to him with a look that made it abundantly clear that now was not the time to test you.
“Rhys,” you warned.
“Sorry…” he muttered, squeezing your hand again. “How do you wanna tackle this?”
“I’m going over there.”
“Right now?”
“Yes. Right now. I have to make sure they’re okay. Besides, it’s not like I have anything better to do,” you shot back, eyes narrowing.
Rhys pursed his lips. Yep. He deserved that.
You looked outside to find that you were, still, stuck near St. Paul’s. And it didn’t look like that was going to change anytime soon. Sighing, you clasped the door handle, but before you could sprint out, Rhys tugged you back to him.
“Whoa, wait a second,” he said, worry seeping back into his voice. He didn’t want to part like this. “Are you sure you want to do this by yourself? I can help.”
You looked at him evenly. “This can’t wait. And neither can the Jonathan situation.”
Damnit.
No, it couldn’t.
“I’ll take care of my mother while you take care of our professor,” you offered, running your thumb over his hand in an attempt to persuade him. However the grim look on your face wasn’t helping.
He held your gaze for a long moment, equally grim, before nodding once. There was no other way.
“Be careful, and call me when you need me,” Rhys implored, already cursing himself for agreeing to this plan. “Promise me.”
“I promise,” you said, purposeful, determined.
And with that, you were off, shutting the car door with force.
Rhys watched you go, worry now mixing with guilt. By trying to protect you from one situation, he was now the sole reason you were diving head-first into unknown danger all by yourself.
Although, you would have gone either way. No matter the circumstances. You were just like him in that respect. Once you’d made up your mind, there was nothing anyone could do to dissuade you. Rhys had to let you go. Leaving you the space to deal with problems the way you saw fit. He didn’t like it, but if he wanted to keep you by his side, there was no other choice.
As far as he was aware, your mother wasn’t a cold-blooded killer. But even so, she’d come pretty close to manslaughter with the Hackney house fire. Rhys also knew for a fact that you hadn’t yet told him about all of the harrowing things you’d endured during your childhood. Some details, yes. But definitely not all. He hadn’t wanted to push you too hard, you would tell him when you were ready. Just like with everything else.
Rhys shook himself. Dwelling on this wasn’t going to do him much good either. He had his own headache to deal with. After that, he would work to make things right with you.
He pressed a button, lowering the glass divider. “Change of plans. I need you to take me to South Kensington.”
—
An hour later, after trudging through London’s busy traffic, the car parked in front of Kynance Mews. The driver hastened to open his door, and Rhys slid out, glancing left and right.
“Give me twenty minutes,” he said, adjusting his suit.
“Yes, sir.”
The ride over had given him plenty of time to consider his options, which in the end boiled down to two simple objectives: kill Jonathan, or not.
As tempting as the first option was, Rhys had to accept that it wasn’t the most prudent one. Now that Lockwood’s disappearance had become a public affair, and the police were conducting their own investigation, there would be a lot of heat bearing down on the case. Sooner or later, the police would find out about the bribe money, and once they’d successfully trace the money and start making connections, ‘Professor Jonathan Moore’ would be the subject of a lot of scrutiny.
Like with Atkinson, the risk would be too great. If either of those two were killed right now, people would surely start asking questions. Questions Rhys didn’t want to be asked.
Therefore, with a tinge of annoyance, he opted that the best course of action was to keep the professor alive a little longer.
However, Jonathan couldn’t continue on like this. He had to be reined in—reminded of who was in control here. Good thing Rhys had one more trick up his sleeve, and now was the time to use it.
He made his way inside the building, taking the stairs two at a time, determination edged in his pace. Once he made it to number ten, he lifted his fist, landing a series of powerful knocks on Jonathan’s front door. He didn’t have to wait long before it swung open.
Rhys bursted into the flat, the door nearly hitting Jonathan in the face.
“You’ve been busy, mate.”
Jonathan recovered quickly. “So have you.”
His dark eyes tracked Rhys as he strode around the flat, making sure there were no unwanted third parties present. Once he made sure there wasn’t, he stopped in front of Jonathan, meeting his gaze.
Rhys took a breath and nodded. “Tell me about it. It’s hard work, winning these elections—making sure all possible threats are dealt with accordingly.”
Jonathan looked him up and down, measured. “Is that why you’re here?”
“Among other things... I was starting to miss our fun little chats.”
“I wasn’t,” the professor sneered.
“Oh, pray tell,” Rhys said, light.
Jonathan appeared calm, but the tightness around his eyes told Rhys all he needed to know. A single, disdainful head-tilt cinched it.
So, this would be fun.
“You’re a cold-blooded psycho.”
His mouth twitched. “Ah, one that needs to be taken down? Is that why you tipped the press?”
“I’m done with your bullshit and your fucking mindgames,” he hissed. “And I’m not going down for your sins whilst you become mayor of this godforsaken town.”
“And yet here you are,” Rhys snickered, waving a hand at him. “Digging your own grave. Or did you forget that Joe Goldberg helped cover-up Lockwood’s murder?”
“I’ll tell them the truth about you,” Jonathan promised. “You’re not getting away with this.”
“And who do you think they’ll believe?” Rhys returned, tilting his head, a challenge. “A suspected murderer who faked his own death, or the man that’s working tirelessly to strengthen their police force—making sure their kids will have access to a higher education, someone who’s battling corruption and fighting for what’s right. You tell me.”
Jonathan shook his head. “No… No, you will go down for your crimes.”
Rhys couldn’t help but laugh. “And what crimes are those? Do you have any proof? Or will this be another case of your word against mine?” he taunted, stepping up to the fuming American.
Jonathan stood rigid, frowning in contemplation. He took a moment to mull over whatever thoughts held him before he looked at Rhys askance.
“There has to be proof. People always seem to mysteriously disappear or die around you. Like last night.”
Rhys remained entirely unfazed. “That Fernsby bloke, you mean? Well, if you’d listened to the news, you would know he died of natural causes. Very unfortunate but it happens,” he said, inscrutable, picking a piece of lint off of his suit. “Besides, I have an alibi.”
“Of course you do,” Jonathan mumbled, more to himself. “Your girlfriend?”
Anger simmered under Rhys’ cool facade at the mention. But he couldn’t let Jonathan see it.
“She serves many purposes,” he smirked, lewd.
Jonathan’s face twisted in disgust. “You’re using her.”
He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “It’s all she’s good for anyway. A pretty face for the cameras, and an excellent shag at night.”
Jonathan looked away, uncomfortable despite his own nature. He took a beat, his eyes locked in an endless stare, seeing seemingly nothing. Then he blinked, once, and looked up to Rhys again.
Something in his eyes had changed. Like he’d made up his mind about something. Rhys couldn’t tell what it was, but it didn’t sit well with him, at all. That much was clear.
His smile faded, it was time to get down to business.
“Alright,” he exclaimed, delightfully startling Jonathan in the process. “Enough chit-chat. I think it’s about time I remind you of a few things…”
Jonathan stiffened, but didn’t respond. Rhys sauntered over to the window, the one providing a perfect view into the flat of one Miss Kate Galvin. The flat was dark, and it didn’t look like anyone was home.
“Do you know where she is?” Rhys asked, peering through the window.
He didn’t need to specify who he was referring to. Not to a seasoned stalker like him.
“At work,” Jonathan said, clipped.
Rhys glanced back over his shoulder, clocking Jonathan still standing in the exact same spot, shooting daggers at his back. Rhys’ lips curled.
“Remember this feeling, Jonathan,” he said as he zeroed in on the fireplace, bending to pick up the fire iron. “Remember how it feels to know where she is. To know she’s safe…”
He twisted the metal object leisurely, feeling the weight of it in his palms. “But above all, remember how I can take all of that away, in the blink of an eye.”
If possible, Jonathan stiffened even more, nails digging into his palms as he clenched his fists.
Rhys’ eyes sparked with amusement. Jonathan hadn’t wanted to play any more of his ‘mindgames’, but unfortunately for the professor, he was only just getting started.
“Now, we wouldn’t want her to meet the same fate as her father, would we?” Rhys mused, using the metal tool to prod at some charcoal remains. “Because speaking of unfortunate things, I’d say that would definitely qualify as such.”
Jonathan glared at him, not even attempting to cover the hatred he felt for the man daring to enter his home like he owned the place—and threaten him, his girlfriend, and everything he had tried to rebuild for himself.
“Stay away from her,” he said, voice as cold as ice.
“Come now, Jonathan. There’s no need to get snippy,” Rhys tutted, eyes flicking to him. “You and I both know that whatever happens to her, it’s entirely up to you.”
The sound of metal scraping against the fireplace's stone surface caught Jonathan’s attention, his eyes flying to where Rhys was still playing around with the rod. He relished the look on Jonathan’s face, a sweet mixture of trepidation and rage. It meant he was listening carefully.
“Fun fact about fire,” Rhys went on, off-kilter. “Which, correct me if I’m wrong, I believe you may be familiar with,” he added jokingly, stabbing at a larger fragment of unburned wood.
“Nothing ever truly vanishes. There’s always something that remains. And what’s so amusing about this fact is that you never know which pieces are left behind… or when they might resurface.”
This was it. The last card Rhys could play to keep Jonathan silent—short from killing him, ofcourse.
To threaten him to complete the framejob by planting Lockwood’s other hand that you and Rhys had kept as a backup, and call in the cavalry. Physical evidence tying Jonathan to the crime, in combination with the paper trail already set up in his name, would ensure Jonathan’s arrest and indictment. And he knew it.
Jonathan swallowed. “Lockwood?”
Rhys walked up to him, eyeing him steadily. “You better stick to our first agreement, and keep quiet,” he warned, tapping the fire iron against Jonathan’s chest. “Otherwise, I’ll make sure you’re going down for all of it.”
Defeat flashed over Jonathan’s face. He was still angry, no, livid would be the better term… But the growing apprehension and doubt was unmistakable.
Satisfied that his message was received loud and clear, Rhys dropped the metal rod to the floor. The loud clang of the object hitting the wooden floor caused Jonathan to flinch back, much to Rhys’ pleasure.
He turned his back on the American, gleefully making his way towards the front door where he paused, resting one hand on the handle, the corner of his mouth lifting.
“It’s all about who holds the power, mate,” Rhys smirked, looking back to Jonathan, whose jaw was clenched tight. “And at present, that isn’t you.”
––––
A/N: FINALLY a Joe and Rhys meet… I know it’s been a long time coming 🙈 I had a lot of fun writing this particular scene, I hope you enjoyed it as well. Now let’s see if Jonathan will heed Rhys’ warning or… not. hehe
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Tags: @artaxerxesthegreat
#rhys montrose x reader#rhys montrose x female reader#rhys montrose fanfic#rhys montrose fic#rhys montrose#you netflix#you season 4#you season 4 canon divergence#jonathan moore#joe goldberg#goldrose#ed speleers#rhys montrose x original female character#on ao3#you and me
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and watch them fall
pairing/fandom: joe goldberg/rhys montrose, you
rating: explicit (preemptively, there will be porn and murder and the like)
tags: alternative universe - canon divergence, S4 rewrite, obsession, strangers to lovers, POV Joe Goldberg, murder, bookstore owner joe goldberg, Rhys Montrose is a real person, developing relationship, slow build, eventual relationship, eventual smut, tags to be update as fic progresses
word count: 3,564
chapter 1/?
summary: Joe moved to London to escape his past habits. An unassuming bookstore in the downtown area was the perfect place for that, right? But what happens when the charming potential mayor of London waltzes into his store and makes an impression?
link below the break
i'm going to just be posting links to each addition for ease (it gets a little lengthy to scroll through it all, i'm sure) but if any of you are diehard tumblr fic readers and would prefer it on here to ao3, let me know and i'll copy and paste it all over
#you netflix#joe goldberg#rhys montrose#joe x rhys#fanfiction#au canon divergence#season 4 rewrite#slow burn#eventual smut#eventual relationship#my work
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Clay Morrow Tags and Verses
Clay ✖ (Aesthetics)
Clay ✖ (Thoughts)
Clay ✖ (Character Development)
Clay ✖ (Crack)
Clay ✖ (Headcanons)
Clay ✖ (Photos)
Clay ✖ (Starter Call)
BIOGRAPHY
Clay Morrow was born in Sacramento in 1949 to Clarence and Kathleen Morrow. His parents had not been expecting to have a child, but his mother had been thrilled. She tried to provide him with a loving home, whereas his father was a World War II vet, who tried to teach him that he needed to be hard, responsible and needed to love his country. Clay wasn’t sure about serving in the military at first. He often found himself wandering around the streets of Sacramento, in his teenage years. It was then, that he developed his love for bikes, specifically Harleys.
His father made sure that he signed up for the draft, but Clay was happy to not be sent to Vietnam, right away. He’d just bought himself a Harley and he wanted to be out on the road. After his mother died of Pneumonia right before he turned 18, his father turned to the bottle, repeatedly telling him that he’d never amount to nothing, spending all his time on his Harley. Not longafter that, he packed up his belongings and with just 100 bucks in his pocket, he headed out on the road. It was then that, he learned how to do odd jobs, settling for a bit in Lodi, where he worked part-time in a mechanic shop, cleaning up. The owner took him under his wing and taught him everything he needed to know about fixing cars and his bike.
He was settled there for quite some time, before he went back out on the road. He felt most at home, not settling anywhere. Out on the road, he met up with John Teller, and he wound up riding with him and Piney Winston, along with six others. It wasn’t long before they started calling themselves the First 9, as the Sons of Anarchy were created by John Teller and Piney Winston. Clay was one of only three people who had not served time in the military, and some of the older guys, who did their time, made fun of him about it.
In 1969, Clay was sent to Vietnam and became part of the Army Airborne, serving time until 1972. Upon his return, he reconnected with the Sons of Anarchy and continued to ride with them, a little harder, after his time in Vietnam. In 1977, it all changed. While the guys all had women they hooked up with, JT had found himself a young one. She looked barely legal to him, but she was hot. He had definitely looked, but he knew that she had her eyes on JT. After she got pregnant, they all settled in Charming, California.
Clay was not that impressed with Charming, of all places. It just lacked anything, really, in his opinion. It was small and nothing interesting seemed to happen there. But, they had acquired a good amount of land, and that was when he and JT decided to open the Teller-Morrow Shop. They were both good at auto repair, and as time went by, Clay knew it would make a good front. Once the business got going and the clubhouse was up to his standards, Clay decided that Charming might not be so bad, after all.
Over the years, things began to become less about brotherhood and more about what they had gotten into. In the late 80s, Clay and JT went with fellow member, Keith McGee, to help with trouble that had arisen in Keith’s hometown, a suburb of Belfast. They had gotten into trouble with the IRA, and that was when Clay saw opportunity. He started pushing for the gun business back home, and he knew that JT was hesitant, but Clay was not going to give in. Once they got back, he’d managed to convince most of the guys. This could bring in the money. Clay took advantage of the fact that JT seemed to be not as focused, and he used it to his advantage.
As time went on, Clay noticed that JT seemed less focused on Gemma, even when their youngest son died. He could see that they were both broken over it, but to him, JT had become weak and unfocused in Clay’s eyes, and he had no problem anymore, in flirting and eventually starting an affair with his wife. He knew that John was not stupid and knew that he was sleeping with his wife, but he flat out didn’t care. After JT was killed in a motorcycle accident, Clay took the gavel, arguing that Piney was too old, to do so.
He went to prison a few times, usually for gun running charges, but it didn’t take him long to marry Gemma after JT’s death. While JT had tried to handle things more diplomatic, Clay had no problem spilling blood, if it suited him, which happened more than once, during the war against the Mayans.
Clay was always someone who did whatever it took, to get what he wanted.
VERSES:
v: fuck the system | FIRST NINE
Time Period: 1968 - 1993
Clay is asked to join the Sons of Anarchy, goes to Vietnam, Is patched in upon his return and is committed to the club in a variety of ways, one of which being pushing for the gun business. He’s also responsible for a lot of the murders during the Mayan War. As John Teller started to lose faith in what they were doing, Clay started taking advantage in many ways, which included bedding his wife and likely sabotaging his bike, to kill him.
Faceclaim: Cam Gigandet for the 60’s - 80’s, then Ron Perlman
v: sitting on top of the world | PRESIDENT YEARS (Pre-Show)
Time Period: 1993 - 2008
After the death of John Teller, Clay became President of the Sons of Anarchy. He continued to get them deeper in guns, resulting in a number of fatalities, and all sorts of problems.
v: it ain’t easy being king | SEASON ONE
Clay tries to run the club the best he can, with the ATF breathing down his neck, the whole time.
v: nobody threatens SAMCRO | SEASON TWO
Clay faces new challenges, as Jax starts to challenge everything he does, due to him knowing how Donna Winston died. That’s not all though, as he finds out later that his wife has been gang raped to send a message to him.
v: you do what you have to do | SEASON THREE
After the Irish take Abel, Clay helps Jax do whatever he can, to get his son back. This includes traveling to Ireland, where Clay has to kill Keith McGee, another First Nine member after he betrays SAMCRO.
v: paranoia strikes deep | SEASON FOUR
After Gemma tells Clay that Tara and Piney have the letters that could implicate him in John Teller’s murder, Clay does whatever he can, to keep the truth from coming out. This also includes the downfall of he and Gemma’s relationship, and him losing the gavel.
v: the whistler | SEASON 5
After Jax lets Clay live, he’s allowed to sit at the table. He does his own scheming with the NOMADS. Eventually, he loses his patch and is sent to jail for a murder he didn’t commit.
v: sympathy for the devil | SEASON 6
Clay spends his time in jail, before he is broken out and killed by Jax.
v: fortunate son | AU
Anything that is AU falls under this verse
#v: fuck the system [The First Nine]#v: sitting on top of the world [President Years (Pre Show)]#v: it ain't easy being king [season 1]#v: nobody threatens samcro [season 2]#v: you do what you have to do [season 3]#v: paranoia runs deep [season 4]#v: the whistler [season 5]#v: sympathy for the devil [season 6]#v: fortunate son [AU or Canon Divergence]#Clay ✖ (Aesthetics)#Clay ✖ (Thoughts)#Clay ✖ (Character Development)#Clay ✖ (Crack)#Clay ✖ (Headcanons)#Clay ✖ (Photos)#Clay ✖ (Starter Call)#tags#✖ [Character: Clay Morrow]
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Chapters: 20/20
Fandom: Glee
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Sebastian Smythe
Characters: Blaine Anderson, Sebastian Smythe
Additional Tags: Christmas Compilation, The Great Seblaine Christmas Extravaganza, Fluff and Sweetness, Occasional hurt/comfort, probably, But mostly fluff
Summary:
A collection of Christmas-themed oneshots about Seblaine.
#glee#fic#seblaine#the great seblaine christmas extravaganza#final day: christmas eve#blaine anderson#sebastian smythe#colette says hi#as does her boyfriend#season 4!au#with canon divergence#blaine's christmas new york trip was stupid#and burt was irresponsible for taking him#yeah you heard me#i'm coming for burt hummel#sue me#super self-indulgent#hurt-comfort#sebastian is good with hugs#which is good#cause blaine needs them#this is the last one#thank you guys for reading
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Jax Teller tags
Jax ✖ (Aesthetics)
Jax ✖ (Thoughts)
Jax ✖ (Character Development)
Jax ✖ (Crack)
Jax ✖ (Headcanons)
VERSES:
V: Rebellion is the only thing that keeps you alive [Teen Jax] - After the death of John Teller and even before, Jax is definitely a rebellious teenager. He doesn’t handle his father’s absence, death and his mother remarrying well. He finds love and that is something that helps him focus, but other than that, he get into trouble a lot and enjoys it.
V: The Prince Prospects [Jax as a Prospect] - Jax may be the Prince of Charming, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have to Prospect like everyone else. He has to learn to serve the guy his mom married, someone he’s always known. His hot headed temper leads him and others into trouble, along the way.
V: All I ever wanted was a Harley and a Kutte [Pre-Show SAMCRO Jax] - Jax patches in, like was expected and his life revolves around club life, women and crime. It’s easier to not commit to women than deal with not being over the one who left. But, that doesn’t mean that he spends all his time pining away or anything like that.
V: Some days you’re the beamer, some days you’re the goddamned deer [Season One] - Jax is the VP of SAMCRO, Opie’s out of prision, Tara’s back in town, and his kid was born way too soon because of his junkie mom. There’s always a bunch of shit as Jax deals with feeling like shit matters more, now that he’s got a kid.
V: I’m not the one out there murdering women! [Season 2] - After the death of Opie’s wife, Jax finds himself at odds with Clay, as they deal with a new group and Ethan Zobelle. He tries to balance it all, but finds himself wanting to be away from Clay and then seeking revenge for his mother.
V: It’s going to get a lot worse before it gets better [Season 3] - If Jax thought things were a mess before, there even worse now. The Irish stole his son and he doesn’t know how to get him back. He struggles with self-destructing and having to go to Ireland. There’s no one who self-destructs quite like Jax Teller.
V: I know you killed my father [Season 4] - Fresh out of prison, Jax has goals that are more than being a part of SAMCRO. He wants to get his family out of this and makes a deal with Clay how to do so. But old secrets and lies may keep that from happening as more things grow out of control and Jax finds himself torn between what’s best for his family and what’s best for his chosen family.
V: You can’t sit in this chair without being a savage [Season 5] - It’s a new era of SAMCRO. Jax is President and wants to do things differently. But something shocks him to the core and takes away part of his heart, something that he’ll never get back. Dealing with the fallout is difficult and Jax learns the weight of being the King of SAMCRO.
V: My self-hate is so deep, so palpable [Season 6] - Things just keep getting worse. Jax’ marriage is a mess. The problems with the Irish seem to be getting worse all the time and he finds himself falling deeper and deeper losing his vision, and wondering what the brotherhood even is.
V I’m sorry that the family I was given has created so much chaos in the family I’ve chosen [Season 7] - Jax wanted to do what he could to protect the club, but he’d never imagined the horrors of what happened at the end of season 6. Facing being a widowed father, he is a self-destructive mess, taking his anger and grief on anyone gets in his way. Mistakes are made and consequences have to be paid.
V: The crow no longer speaks to me [Surviving AU] - Thought it is near impossible that it happened this way, Jax survives what happens at the end of Papa’s Goods. It takes him a long time, and the fallout from his emotional point at that time is still address. He’s not sure what happens now.
V: Soar on my Wings [Canon Divergent AU] - Instead of going down 580, Jax found himself going up to Norco, meeting Wendy and Nero up there. Now, he’s got to decide if hiding out is worth it. What will his life mean now, and can he salvage the relationships he wants to?
V: He sees all my sins, He reads my soul [Time-jumps] - Time periods of various time jumps.
Bio already on CARRD
#Jax ✖ (Aesthetics)#Jax ✖ (Thoughts)#Jax ✖ (Character Development)#Jax ✖ (Crack)#Jax ✖ (Headcanons)#V: Rebellion is the only thing that keeps you alive [Teen Jax]#V: The Prince Prospects [Jax as a Prospect]#V: All I ever wanted was a Harley and a Kutte [Pre-Show SAMCRO Jax]#V: Some days you're the beamer. Some days you're the goddamned deer [Season One]#V: I’m not the one out there murdering women! [Season 2]#V: It’s going to get a lot worse before it gets better [Season 3]#V: I know you killed my father [Season 4]#V: You can’t sit in this chair without being a savage [Season 5]#V: My self hate is so deep...so palpable [Season 6]#V: I’m sorry that the family I was given has created so much chaos in the family I’ve chosen [Season 7]#V: The crow no longer speaks to me [Surviving AU]#V: Soar on my Wings [Canon Divergent AU]#V: He sees all my sins. He reads my soul [Time-Jumps]#✖ [Character: Jax Teller]
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𝐖𝐞’𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲… || 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠!𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲_ As a punishment for helping Coriolanus to cheat on the games, you’re sent to serve as a nurse in District 12 for the summer. He had to choose between Lucy Gray and you. He just needed a reason to pick you, luckily the songbird gave him one in time before you were gone.
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬_ evil nurse!reader x peacekeeper!Coryo, very slight canon divergence, jealousy, sexism, stalking, nudity, reader is a little crazy and evil, you can’t trust her feelings, angst, beef with Lucy Gray (I <3 her irl), blowjob lol, buzzcut!Coryo fucks reader in the lake so MDNI 18+, this is so fucked up tbh.
𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞_ reader is mentally unreliable. Song of course is liability, I know it won’t work, Will you cry? And buzzcut season lol. All in my playlist, It’s the worst and will disappoint you.
♪ ♫ The worst playlist 4 Coriolanus Snow ✰ Index (+ fics here)
____________________________________________
You’ve made big mistakes.
You accept it looking at the lake, ripping the delicate petals of a wildflower. Having to say goodbye to your summer vacations after graduation was fair.
Your parents convinced Dr.Gaul to have some mercy on you. You wanted to die when they convinced her that you did it because you were a girl in love.
You helped Coriolanus to find the aisle where the snake's tank was going to be picked up.
You were so in love that you only wanted to help your lover. Coriolanus was far from being your lover. You heard him countless times making fun of you. And you still helped him because your good heart wanted to see him winning the prize.
And what did you get? Serving as a nurse in the worst district for the whole summer.
It’s been two weeks. And the only good thing is the evening, where you like to kill time alone, in the silent woods. The moment to breathe and realize how naïve you had been. You deal with the damage Coriolanus had done to you. And the worst part is that he couldn’t care less. He only had eyes for his songbird after all.
And that’s what boiled your blood. That it was her and not you.
There’s already a little pile of dry flowers around you, from all the previous days you were at the same position as now. The days passed and you weren’t ready to let go. You needed to find a way to forget about him.
“Damn it…” you whisper, cringing at all the memories, rage invading you, violently throwing the flower in your hands and wiping away the tears.
When you return to the medical aisle, you need to pass by the military camp. You were obviously a Capitol girl. Anyone with a golden watch and lip tint was. Since day one, many peacekeepers have asked you out. They wanted to spend the night with you. But you weren’t in the mood to lose your virginity yet. You were stressed, angry, embarrassed, but you tried to put your best face.
“Y/N! IS THAT YOU?” You turn confused. Only to find Sejanus Plinth. It genuinely made you smile seeing him.
“Sejanus? What are you doing here?” You ask for a hug. His hair had to be gone, he had the peacekeeper uniform. You were extremely confused.
“The real question is what are you doing here?” You roll your eyes.
“Coriolanus. He cheated on the games.” He sighs, nodding.
“I know. He’s here too.” Your eyes widen. He notices you are uncomfortable.
“Well, I helped him, and Dr. Gaul punished me to serve here for the summer” Sejanus seems surprised to hear it. He sees your nurse uniform, noticing the silver plaque attached in your chest. He knew women of the military with that plaque were on a higher range. In your case, probably because your father paid for you to have some commodities.
“At least you’re here” you add.
Sejanus knew you weren’t on good terms with Coryo. The boy asked for you on the train. But Sejanus hadn’t heard from you. Which apparently left Coriolanus slightly disappointed.
“Yeah. I’m here… we’ll have a good time. Promise” honestly, you were relieved to see him. But just by remembering that Coriolanus was also near you, it made you wish you were still alone.
“Any plans for tonight?” He asks, smiling.
You only had three friends. All girls from District 1 and 2. They were serving just because they were kind and wanted higher chances to get into University. They comforted you and Fridays were for two things. Going to the most famous bar, where Lucy Gray performed. Or going to a secret and elegant club for people with enough status.
“On downtown’s Main Street. A block to the left, the second alley. Tell the guy at the entrance you know me. Use my full name” your friend giggles, slowly moving away.
“You’re unbelievable” as you go back to your private room with your new friends. You can only think of how to avoid encountering Coriolanus for the rest of the summer.
It was enough for him. You wouldn’t even breathe near him. It was you, always offering subtle love. And he gave nothing back.
…
Lucy Gray was such a warm and sweet girl. Her dress with flowers and detailed boots added something to her performance.
Her voice was hypnotizing, her smile so pure and her hair so soft. It was the third night Coriolanus watched her perform. He smiled, drinking something. It was a humble bar, but the most famous one. He looked around looking for Sejanus. Last night he never appeared either. Coriolanus was growing worried, noticing his friend was starting to contemplate rebellious acts to help the people. Always trying to be the hero.
As Lucy Gray finished her song, Sejanus appeared. A big smile on his face.
“Where have you been?” The blonde asked.
“You have to promise me you won’t freak out” Coriolanus rolled his eyes.
“Y/n was punished for helping you to cheat. Gaul sent her here to serve as a nurse for the summer.” His eyes almost popped out.
He had completely forgotten about you. He cringed, already expecting to have you all over him.
“Does she know I’m here?” Sejanus nodded.
“Yeah. She wasn’t happy when I mentioned you.” Coriolanus suddenly remembered that the last time he talked to you, you cursed him. You got mad after he didn't even offer a thank you for your help. Coriolanus realized at that moment that you hoped he would choose you over Lucy Gray. Which didn’t happen.
“She has access to the club reserved for high status military personnel. I won’t say this is bad but there is better…” he looks at his songbird. Everyone cheered for her, but…
Suddenly, Coriolanus doesn't like that Sejanus had spent last night partying with you.
“Take me there.” He says, looking at his friend.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea. She stated very clearly that-“
“Sejanus… I need to see her. I won’t cause any disturbance.” After a minute of debating, Sejanus stands up and tilts his head, telling Coriolanus to get out of the bar.
It’s a fair distance. Coriolanus has no idea where he is going. Until the end of an alley seems to have some hallway that irradiates red lights.
“Here it is.” Sejanus points out.
There’s a man with a different peacekeeper uniform. He asks Sejanus who invited him.
Coriolanus hears your full name for the first time. He learns you have two names and two last names. At the Academy you only used one of each.
“How do you know her full name?” He asks Sejanus when the man lets them inside the place.
The red lights start changing, mixing with crystal chandeliers and velvet walls.
“Our parents have made some deals in the past.” Coriolanus wants to know more. He needs more details about how you ended up in the same place as him. He doesn’t think you also paid to change districts like him.
“Hey. Whatever you plan to say to her, apologize to her. She’s a girl a million would pay to have. She just wanted to help you, Coryo” he doesn’t know how to take Sejanus. He sure sounded like always, the friend trying to give advice. But he also sounded… like he was one of the millions who would pay to have you. Coriolanus didn’t feel pleased.
Finally, the place is crowded. And the people inside look different than the ones at the bar. These people looked very clean and elegant to be in District 12.
The music is live jazz, the smell of pure tobacco and laughs everywhere. Coriolanus feels like he fits there. And he promises to talk with Lucy Gray the next day. After he left the bar she would ask where he did go.
But for now, his eyes start searching for you. A man in a suit that looked very Capitol started talking. Daring all the beautiful women there to dance, promising to crown one as the star of the night.
He hears a group of females laughing. And when he spots the group, you are being pushed to the dance floor.
Since Sejanus is nowhere to be found, Coriolanus makes his way closer to you.
He sees your natural hair down and wavy. Cranberry lips and gentle purple eyeliner around your eyes. A simple mauve dress, and he almost chokes about it.
Tigris made that dress. You asked her one day at the Academy. If she could make a dress from elegant fabric. Tigris said that she didn’t have enough to make a full gown. You didn’t care, you just hoped she could do something.
Coriolanus remembered Tigris making the dress late one night. And he tolerated you even less for making his cousin work harder. That was long forgotten when you paid her and referenced her to work with a friend of your mother.
You looked totally different. Not the same annoying material girl he knew at the Capitol. This humble version of you was totally attractive to Coriolanus.
He couldn’t tell if you were dancing tap, swing or something else, but you were good at it. A couple of times, he heard you talking with Clemensia and Arachne, about your winter concert or rehearsals. Now, it was evident you were good at dancing.
You laugh and people cheer for you. Mostly men, which for some reason makes Coriolanus tense his jaw.
The mauve fabric shined disguised under the chandeliers, and maybe it was just the sight of seeing you happy, or the way the dress hugged your body. But it made him smile. For the first time, Coriolanus feels a positive feeling about seeing you. He wants to talk to you. But he isn’t sure what he’ll say. So he opts to just see you for the night. He can see a slight layer of sweat on your forehead after two songs have passed. The crowd seemed to want you to win. And it only makes you more eager to do so.
In your head, this was a big distraction. It was the only moment of the week where you felt happy and free. It makes you forget about your pending University admission and all the drama. About your silly actions and disappointments.
The way your friends cheer and joke about making a bet to see who’d win between you and the other girl left. You really are having fun.
Until the remaining girl surrenders. It feels great. Being crowned as the star of the night, leaving the dance floor with so much admiration and looking over you.
Coriolanus sees how you cheer with your friends. You laugh and he swore he had never seen you smile and laugh so much. Maybe you are a little tipsy. He can’t tell, but after some minutes, one of your friends leaves with a man. The other two stay drinking, and you say your goodbyes.
Your dark coat covers everything once you’re ready to leave. And Coriolanus knows he shouldn’t, but he does it anyway. He starts following you.
Internally, he claims he did it because he thought it wasn’t safe for you to go back to the medical aisle in the middle of the night.
It’s not a long way. And Coriolanus notices how close his bed is to yours, literally.
He feels like an animal, following his prey. Only that he doesn’t intend to hurt you. Not more than he already had.
His legs act by themselves it seems. He keeps venturing into the decent building. It’s lonely and dark. Coriolanus notices that probably many nurses were already sleeping. He sees you enter a room, and he memorizes the number. Seconds later, when he’s about to leave, you come out again. A towel in your hand…
It’s his cue to leave. He knows it’s enough. He never should have followed you. Not when he was supposed to be listening to Lucy Gray and The Covey. Not when he paid to serve in District 12 for Lucy Gray.
But it’s too late because he’s already poking his head, and when his eyes meet your body, your coat and dress are on the floor. In a bench near lays a simple but naughty red pair of panties. Coriolanus feels himself getting red at the sight of the underwear, just red, no details, just red. Red like his cheeks, you are naked, under the spray of the shower.
As you’re supposed to be a person he barely tolerates, Coriolanus hates himself for admitting how beautiful you were.
The water coats your body in a gorgeous way. He sees your hair become slightly darker and falls longer across your back.
The shower smells like some summer fruit and it’s all because of your silly shampoo. Coriolanus had seen it before at the Capitol, it was expensive.
Something changes as you massage your scalp, giving Coriolanus a view of your soft and pretty stomach. Your breasts and some moles that are visible are the death of the man. He shouldn’t want to hold your waist and help you clean your body. He shouldn’t want to kiss every birthmark and mole covering you.
It’s the first time he sees a woman naked.
That night, you happily go to bed, soothing the heat wave. Some weight falls from your shoulders. And for the first time, you feel like everything was meant to happen, and it’s okay.
For Coriolanus, he has to touch himself to forget about your naked silhouette haunting his dirty mind. And when he ends, he takes a cold shower and falls into the tiny uncomfortable lower bunk. Sejanus was snoring already, some bunks without a host, probably still at the bars or sleeping with a lover.
Coriolanus is ready to sleep and pretend nothing happens. He would go back to his soft songbird by the morning.
But it doesn’t work. He knows he’s so messed up. Because you are still there, and not only your naked body. Your natural hair, sweet lips and the way you smiled, danced and laughed are there too.
…
When the sun rose, it was imminent that it was going to be a hotter day. The summer in district 12 was bright. Full of light, and green from nature in the surrounding woods. That’s not necessarily the case in the medical aisle. You woke up at 5:00 am to start your shift. Your soft hands had been classifying medicines through shelves.
“Y/n” calls one of your friends from the entrance of the storage room. She giggles after seeing you on top of the stairs, holding onto your dear life.
“Need help?” You smile, shaking your head.
“I’m okay, thanks. What happened?”
“There’s a telegram for you at the mailbox” was unusual. Only your mother called once to see how you were doing. She was still very mad at you.
“Oh, okay. I’ll go now…” with that, you hop off the stairs and leave the little box with remaining bottles on a desk.
After a minute of going downstairs in the building, you get to the mailbox. You give your name to the elder woman in the office and she hands you a cream envelope.
Making a pause in the hallway full of lockers for peacekeepers waiting for mail you open your own.
[The head of the hospital has shared with us you’re doing an outstanding job. This is what we expect from you after your return to the Capitol. Keep going and we might pull some strings to get you back earlier.
Take care, dad.]
You smile. It was enough for you. The anger was undeniably lowering. And going back to the Capitol would make you very happy. Already contemplating the perfect lie. That you went to serve as a nurse for charity, for your kind heart. Everyone would believe you, and the girls would be jealous of your bravery. Nobody would know it was a punishment.
A punishment caused by the man you had just bumped into.
He picks you the open envelope and once he hands it, he sees you.
“Y/n…” you take the envelope from his hand, avoiding the touch.
“Coriolanus” with less makeup than two nights ago, you look even more beautiful he believes. The white nurse cap was so silly, but it was part of your uniform. But he can’t help but blush after remembering how the water fell across your body. And how he touched himself that night.
“I-…Sejanus told me you were here.” Your eyebrows rise, nodding with disinterest.
“Yeah, I’m here because of you.” He sighs, realizing that his friend was right, you were really disappointed to see him.
“This isn’t what I wanted for you.” You roll your eyes. Already sick of wasting your time for him. You had been so scared to encounter him one day. But that you had him facing you, you couldn’t care less.
“Of course. Because you couldn’t care less about me…” he wants to say he actually cares. But the truth is, that before the night he saw you at the bar, he didn’t even remember you. But now, it was like you had put on a spell on him, making him want to know everything about you.
“Just stay away from sight of view and everything is going to be okay” he was shocked to hear you talk to him with much indifference. He was used to your sweet voice, asking him every morning how he was doing at the entrance of the classroom.
You were always at his feet. Helping him and doing everything so he would look down at you. And now, he actually was looking up, seeing how you went upstairs again. And he would do exactly the opposite of what you asked.
He would be everywhere if it meant seeing you again.
…
The bittersweet feeling of seeing Coriolanus stayed the whole afternoon until you finished your shift at 6:00pm. The heat was barely tolerable when the sun was almost gone. You went to the market, as you had promised to cook dinner for the girls that night.
The vegetables were fresh and there was a lot to pick. You carried a little basket filled with carrots, some potatoes and a piece of raw meat carefully folded. You were looking at some pair of earrings. They were handmade. With blue feathers and some tiny pieces of quartz. You smiled looking at them. When you were about to tell the little girl who was selling them, you felt very deep looks. And when you turn to the left, there is Lucy Gray and some of her friends from the band. She was sixteen, you were almost nineteen, you couldn’t pick a fight with her. She could hate you for being Capitol, for being such a bad mentor at the games. But maybe she didn’t knew that thanks to you she was alive. And the most important, she couldn’t hate you because of a man.
Before you can even feel awkward, you had already left the earrings and walked towards the girl.
“Is there anything I did to upset you, Lucy Gray? Because as far as I know we don’t know each other” that was the truth. You had your own motives to dislike her. But you hadn’t even turned to look at her. Unlike the songbird, who didn’t have a problem showing her disapproval of you with her face.
“Did you follow him here too?” You smiled. You didn’t know what Coriolanus had told her, or what she suggested on her own. Based on what happened, probably Lucy Gray believed you were the crazy stalker who couldn’t let go of Coriolanus Snow and his unrequited feelings for you.
“No. I was already here weeks before he arrived.” You simply answer her by looking at the notebooks in the table beside you. Lucy Gray couldn’t be jealous, but she had a bad omen about you.
“I was blinded by him once, just like you now. I helped him so you could win. Hoped he could choose me. And it wasn’t enough. He’s not the boy you think he is, Lucy Gray. You don’t know him like I do. But you can rest knowing I won’t lift a finger to make him notice me anymore” she seems surprised by your answer. But there’s no time for her to throw a rebuttal because you’re gone. Her friends gossip without her, saying how mean you were.
And Coriolanus had seen everything from a hidden corner. He was looking for Lucy Gray, already growing confused. Your words had gotten deep into his mind. While Lucy Gray was the sweetest girl he ever met, she also confused him. She had a rebellious side that he didn’t like. And you, he knew he would never be able to control you now, but he knew you would easily do the same things he did to win.
He stayed far, letting Lucy Gray to pass by with her friends. And when she was gone, out of the market, he came out.
He grabbed the same earrings you were looking at before.
…
It’s another night at the private bar. This time you know Coriolanus is there. He had the audacity to bring Lucy Gray. And you wonder if it was a good idea to tell Sejanus about the bar. Her green dress didn’t match the bar style. However, you ignore them as soon as your friends tell you they befriended a high standard peacekeeper. He had some handsome friends and they made you completely forget about Coriolanus and her songbird. You grew invested in the conversation with the men and your friends, even when one of girls makes fun of Lucy Gray and her visit to the secret bar.
Coriolanus keeps painfully turning to look at your way. He wants to go and get you out of the bar. But he already had a girl beside him. A much younger and innocent one. His anger escalates when a man takes you out to dance. You giggle as he says something in your ear. You had a pretty ruffled pink dress. Red lipstick and matching shoes.
“She looks happy…” Lucy Gray says, also looking at you.
“She isn’t happy. And that’s just an idiot” he spits pointing at the handsome peacekeeper dancing with you. He shouldn’t have said that, especially in front of Lucy Gray. But the way the man twisted you like a piece of the softest fabric, and the way he singed for you, it was taking over him.
It’s his hands that should be holding your hips. It’s his voice that should be making you dance. But Lucy Gray grabs his chin and offers him a sweet smile that makes him get lost on her brown eyes. She’s too good for him.
As he kisses her, he still feels the anger. Cause’ it should be you.
…
The roles had switched up. Coriolanus was infatuated by you. And now, you ignored him as if you never ever thought he was the love of your life.
Maybe is his hair, now short. Or maybe it is that deep sight he always has on you. The sweet boy that didn’t look on your way was gone.
As the days passed, you could feel the air changing. Telling you that your punishment would soon be over.
You flip through the pages, tons of files in the racks perfectly accommodated in the room. You read about all the frauds and corruption of the hospital and the military aisle. Enough to make you a dangerous target. So as soon as the headmistress nurse knows you have a long secret file in your memory, he gives you easy jobs.
And the dirty ones too.
Coriolanus follows you. Thought the archives rooms to the cold storage. He sees how there’s a tray ready to go. Some needles ready to pinch someone. And then you are changing the yellow liquid inside the injections, your face mask covering the small grin on your face. It makes him slightly shocked. He didn’t think you would be capable of doing such a thing. Some rumors flew across the militar camp. About a deal, between the heads of the hospital and the camp. Where they would secretly get rid of sick people from the district to stop wasting expensive medicines and other products.
But you hand the tray with an innocent smile.
And he grows worried. He can’t believe it, but he fears you could end up dead because of your little tricks. You leave early. So, he gains some confidence to follow you. He needs answers. He’s tired of following you to beg for your attention. It’s his lucky day that you chose to take the little trail that crossed the resting cabins of the peacekeepers. You walk past his cabin and his brain makes him walk faster, grab your forearm and push you inside it.
“What the hell?” You ask, startled. Looking at Coriolanus in shock.
The bunks are empty. Everyone is out.
“What were you doing? Switching the shots? You could get hanged or something else!” Suddenly you’re confused, questioning why he was caring now.
“There’s a lot more going on in the hospital than you could ever know, Coriolanus.” He understands it. And he isn’t surprised after all. Injustice happened everywhere.
But he wouldn’t easily let go.
“You could still get in trouble. Who’s making you do this?” You sigh frustrated, shrugging.
“Why do you care so much? Why can’t you leave me alone for once?” As you raise your voice, he grows impatient.
“I DO CARE ABOUT YOU!” Your silence makes him step closer.
“Seeing you dancing with that man, how he grabbed you, it boiled my blood.” Suddenly you feel nervous about his proximity.
And the cheeky asshole decided to step even closer.
“That shouldn’t be a problem for you” you do your best to keep the visual contact. But the way he’s looking at you is making it difficult. Especially after his lips are literally brushing your cheekbone.
“You are the one I desire.” He smashes his lips with yours. Honestly, you believe him. But it isn’t enough to make your heartbeats for him.
“Did you let that man touch you after you left?” You giggle, letting him wander under your nurse apron.
“My virginity is part of my pride and dignity” you answer, kissing his neck, letting his sneaky hands touch you everywhere. His right hand gropes your breast and the other is trying to hold the fat of your hip and ass like a starved man.
Your brain can’t work for some minutes. But you kiss him back. You decide he wouldn’t puppet you. Never again.
As he devours your lips, confirming you gave the softest kisses, yet passionate. You push him gently towards a random bed. And slowly, you get on your knees, dropping your nurse cap and navy blue cape to the floor.
Coriolanus is officially in shock as you drop his belt to the floor.
When he least expects it, you are already licking the tip of his cock. You make a wet mess of him. His head drops back, letting you do whatever you want.
He’s in heaven. Of course, you weren’t the most experienced but to be a virgin, you were quite an addictive lover.
In your head, you just can think about giving him pleasure. Your twisted plan would be effective as soon as he exploded. You put much effort in sucking and licking every vein of him. His length did not disappoint, and you mentally cursed as you realized he could’ve been your first time.
Coriolanus knows damn well it is over for him when his eyes meet yours. His tip met the back of your throat, and he ended up spilling his hot seed inside your mouth. You show him your tongue, covered in white, only to swallow everything. He gulps, feeling the remaining spasms of his orgasm.
“You’ll be the death of me…” he admits, taking a long breath.
As for you, you know it’s just a matter of time. If Coriolanus was so invested in making you look at him now, you would give him more reasons until he broke and admitted he couldn’t live without you.
So you clean your messy lipstick. Your nurse cap and navy cape perfectly in place and you look gorgeous in a mirror near the door.
“If anyone asks where I was, you say I went to drop some letters.” After that you don’t nothing else. He tucks himself inside his pants and stands quickly.
“Wait-” but you had already left.
…
In the night, Coriolanus starts looking out for Sejanus. He was going to ask if he wanted to go to the bar to see Lucy Gray. But he couldn’t find him. He feels his forehead sweating even in the middle of the night.
Near a little training center, he hears two recognizable voices. And when he turns into a little hallway, he sees you arguing with Sejanus.
“No, I’m not defending the Capitol, but these people are not worth risking your life, Sejanus” it’s the first thing he hears from you.
“They deserve better luck, y/n. Something we were born with.” Coriolanus sees you huffing, arms crossed as the slight wind makes your uniform cape lift.
“What’s going on?…” the blonde asks. You turn and sigh, expecting Sejanus to explain. You like to think Coriolanus would make Sejanus to think clearly. Like he did before.
There’s only silence.
“You won't tell him? I will…” you turn to Coriolanus. He can feel you are angry; you disapprove whatever it was happening with Sejanus.
“He’s helping some rebels.” Sejanus only looks down.
“They’re not rebels.”
“Well, they’re definitely not on the right track. And helping them will only lead to trouble.”
“Why are you doing this?” Coriolanus joins. He sounds tired, immediately remembering how he had to literally fight in the Hunger Games to save him.
“They are suffering. They don’t have anyone.” Sejanus replies.
“If you weren’t helping them, they would put a bullet in your head before you could even blink. They are not worth risking your life, Sejanus. I don’t want to see you hanged.”
“I appreciate your worries, y/n. I really do. But this is the least I can do after all the things my parents have aligned for me.” Your eyes water. Even after all the horrible you have done at the Capitol, as a nurse, you cared for Sejanus and Coriolanus. You might have been playing a game of manipulation with Coriolanus, but if he ended up in a mess that threatened his life, you would fear. The same for Sejanus.
“Sejanus…” Coriolanus felt slightly bad after seeing you at the verge of tears. He knew behind that new mask of indifference you were very soft.
“If something happens to you, I’m gonna live mad at you for the rest of my life. Life made us end up here for him…” you say pointing at Coriolanus.
And it’s true, you were sent to the 12 for punishment. Sejanus literally followed him just because.
“That’s enough penitence.” Feeling the tears flow, you start walking away.
Sejanus also feels wrong. But he’s confident. Both men stare at you, and different thoughts run through their heads.
“If anything happens, Coryo… Take good care of her.” Coriolanus looks at his friend.
He thinks you deserve more. He finally accepts there’s more to win by your side rather than following the songbird. Yet, he couldn’t push away Lucy Gray yet.
“I’ll take care of her, Sejanus.”
…
You don’t see the boys for the next two days. Until the night. When for emergency protocol you had to work. A fight in the bar caused some injuries to many men. So, there you are at 1:00 am sending gazes and bottles of alcohol. And when you are about to clean your own space, after a knock on your door, you see Coriolanus and Lucy Gray.
Unbelievable.
“What happened?” You ask as soon as you see him properly. The tray on your hands falls to the ground, making a loud sound. There’s blood on his face, a dark splotch on the right side of his nose. Beside him is Lucy Gray. Wearing one her bohemian dresses with her rural touch of always. You go to inspect his face.
“Got into a fight.” Coriolanus explains. You frown, thinking that is very ignorant and low. Completely disappointed of him for joining the cause.
“You got into the fight? Why?” He sighs, and Lucy Gray only huffs, helping him to sit on a bench. You ignore her, proceeding to take some cotton and equipment to stitch the little wound on his cheekbone. Your fingers are cold, and make him squirm as soon as they touch him.
“Some guy. He got violent after harassing her” of course it had to be for Lucy Gray all the commotion. Everything makes sense, the fight at the bar you listened to less than an hour ago. The songbird must’ve performed, and someone made a mess.
You can’t feel bad for her. While half of the district loved her, there was a considerable amount of people who disliked her, rumors saying she carried problems wherever she went.
“Hmm.” you have a lot to say, but you won’t spit everything at once. Coriolanus sighed, pretending it was because the alcohol was touching his skin, but it was because you weren’t pleased.
Even in his exile, he was between two women again. And while he couldn’t push away Lucy Gray, he couldn’t let you go too.
“Can you give us a moment, Lucy Gray?” he asks calmly. And maybe her reaction wasn’t meant to, but she showed that it made her uncomfortable.
“Sure. I’ll wait outside…” awkwardly she made a smile to the man seated in front of you and left.
Silence took over. You continued to clean the wound, and his deep blue eyes were locked on your face.
Finally, he was able to see your real beauty. Bare amounts of makeup. Hair down and short nails. No crazy looks, ridiculous hairstyles and cat nails. This was the real you.
“I didn’t start the fight…” he started.
“But of course, it had to be for her.” you finish for him. Again, he sighs, trying to avoid any possible irritation.
“It wasn’t her fault what happened.”
“Oh my god. Just listen to yourself! … Everything is her fault!” You burst after finishing with the needle.
“Why do you hate her so much?” He asks irritatedly, shrugging and expecting you to answer soon.
“I don’t hate her. I couldn’t care less for that poor girl. But she’s the reason why you got so obsessed with winning the damn prize. She’s the reason why you cheated and she’s the reason why you’re exiled, and I’m punished” he knows it’s true. In a matter of weeks, Coriolanus repeatedly questioned why Lucy Gray. And until two weeks ago, when he started questioning why not you.
Coriolanus smirks. Finding a way to evade a deeper conversation. He wasn't ready for the time to come where he had to decide. Lucy Gray or you.
“You sound like you’re jealous” he actually thought you would deny it.
“Of course it makes me jealous, Coriolanus!”
His smile fades away. You curse under your breath, moving aside to pick up the nursing equipment. There was no way back, and you wouldn’t lie.
“Ever since I met you, I wanted you to like me. And all I received were mean looks and judgmental jokes. About my hair, my lipstick, my dress, everything” you admit, sounding a little hurt.
“And this girl comes, and in less than two months she has you doing the impossible for her” you mumble. Coriolanus was never the romantic type. He was a man of few words and very analytical. He wasn’t a fan of the districts, so you wondered what could possibly be the reason for him to get obsessed with the songbird.
“Do you love her?” For you, it was a simple question. You always faced your feelings. But for Coriolanus, he tended to avoid his feelings.
He looked at the ground, at your boots before looking up at you.
“Why are you making this so complicated?” He asks, in hopes to avoid the real question.
“You won’t have both girls, Coriolanus.” When you come back at him, he stares directly at his view, at your waist. He focuses on the details of the grey and white fabric decorating you. There’s a tiny spot of blood near your breast, and some dirt near where he thought it was your belly button.
For sure, he knows he won’t have both girls.
“And as much as she tries to make you fit in. You don’t belong here. You and I were educated to live in The Capitol.” He’s well aware that with Lucy Gray, he would be pursuing a humble peaceful life. With you, he would be pursuing a luxurious and firm life.
The harder you are pushing his buttons, the harder you’re manipulating him. You trace his chin and neck, fingers grasping his silver chain. And you know he’s getting soft, vulnerable for your touch.
Maybe he changed his perspective of you after seeing you dance. After seeing you naked in the showers. After realising the type of woman you were.
“I would love to see when realization hits you. You’ll see that she only used you. You’ll notice that I was on your side and could’ve been for the rest of my life” his jaw tenses. He looks you in the eye again. You smile, thumb on his lower lip.
“And pretend as much as you can, selling me that face of I don’t care about you. But I know you do; you’re just blinded by the songbird. Count the days till she uses her singing against you. It’ll be too late.”
He hates losing, missing things. And you know it.
“She makes me want to be someone better.” His best attempt to soothe you makes you laugh.
“The summer will be over, and I’ll leave. She won’t inspire you to grow. She will make you lay still. I’ll be at the top of the Capitol again. And you couldn’t make your house rise…” that hit him in his pride. The fact that your words were true. He thought about Tigris and his grandmother. They deserved better.
“I want you to be someone better. And yet, you’re here. Without the prize, without being home. Just picture it… Where would you be if you had chosen me?” He really wanted to choose you. He just needed a fucking reason. But once again, you have disappeared.
…
He cared. But he cared more for himself.
That doesn't make him feel better though. He had doomed Sejanus Plinth by recording his words.
He couldn’t sleep, knowing that anything could happen the following morning. He has a tiny brown bag in his hand, clutched as if it was made of pure gold. He can’t wait, and he can’t sleep. So, he sneaks out of the camp and goes to your room. He needed to see you, he needed to choose you. That would mean leaving. Concentrating on you and his family. Pursuing the Capitol’s type of future, away from the country life.
Your friends were about to leave to go to the secret bar. And they tell him you were gone to the lake. It makes him realize how much you had to be overthinking. Just by seeing you, anyone could tell you weren’t from the districts. Spending the night in the lake wasn’t pleasant at all. With animals, mosquitoes, and the humid heat of the woods.
But he walks in the darkness. Hearing some crickets and frogs that guide him to the little visible light at the end of the trial. The more he walks towards it, the more he can distinguish you.
There you are sitting over a blanket. Reading a book, wearing a long pastel nightgown. The sight makes him smile.
He steps over a branch and makes you turn worried. But as soon as you spot him, you sigh, closing the book.
“What are you doing here?” You ask.
“I could ask the same question. It’s nearly midnight.” He sits beside you on the blanket, you only shrug, facing away from him, looking at the barely noticeable reflect of the lake under the moon.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“Me neither” there’s a lot of things he wants to say, you want to scream it too.
“I wanted to give you this…” he hands you the brown bag. Frowning, you take it, your fingers brushing his, but you opt to ignore it.
When you dig your hands inside, you feel something soft. And when you see what’s inside, you can’t help but cheekily smile.
It’s the feather earrings you wanted at the market. He probably collected the least he could to pay for them. Or maybe he traded something. It’s uncertain, but you can’t deny it warmed your heart a little.
“You saw me?” He nods, watching how you cautiously caressed the pair.
“Then you must’ve heard me too…” Coriolanus heard it. But he would pretend the opposite. Just to avoid the question.
“I didn’t. I was passing by when you were looking at them. What happened?” You tilt your head, putting the earrings on.
“Your songbird is jealous of me… Does she know about the good time we had the other day?” He blushes, closing his eyes out of embarrassment.
“How do I look?” When he opens his eyes, he sees you have the earrings on. The blue feathers looked very outstanding in the middle of the dark. The light you brought did not make any justice to the beauty of your face. Barely highlighting your eyes and lips.
“You look beautiful…” there’s something on your mind. You want to ask so badly. And while you could pry about his thoughts of your new appearance, you don’t. Your voice slightly trembling as you start speaking.
“Did you and Sejanus have anything to do with the death of the daughter of the mayor and the boyfriend?” He closes his eyes.
“No.”
“Coriolanus Snow… Do not lie to me.” his arms come to rest on his bent knees. And you know the truth through his breathing.
“Sejanus went too far. I wanted to keep him alive” you sigh, feeling already stressed. Panic invades you, fearing for both boys.
“What if this is just what you two needed to end up in real trouble?” He looks at you, and he wants to kiss you so badly. He wanted a hug from you. He wanted you to love him like he knew you did during the Academy days. Just to feel some sense of normality. That this isn’t what his life turned out to…
“What if he gets killed. What if you get killed?”
“It won’t happen. It’ll be okay” your nails were going to suffer from anxiety. But he places a hand on your bare shoulder, calming you.
“Why can’t you give me a rest, Coriolanus?” He knows what you mean, and it makes his heart grow soft.
“Honestly. Before the games I barely tolerated you. But after seeing you here and everything that happened, you’re right. I can’t have both girls.” It makes you weak.
“What made you look at me? Why now?” He sighs.
Firstly, it was pure lust, your body. But at this point, he knew he could potentially end up alone. And he refused to let go of the person he had won since the beginning.
“Because I wasn't able to appreciate that I had you. And… I don’t want to be alone.” You nod, analyzing his words.
“But you have her. Since when is she not enough?” Coriolanus had to accept how analytical you were. He can be honest and be in peace with you or lie and keep fighting for you.
“I don’t think she’s ever been enough. We don’t have much in common. Just that we are orphans… if she never came along… I swear I know I would have ended up by your side.” You think you understand him. He just realized what he lost. And now he was trapped to decide. However, you were not going to give your heart again. Only time or a life-or-death situation would make you admit you still loved him.
“I said it before, I’ll repeat it again. I won’t be here forever…” he leaned closer. His hand caressing your chin, appreciating how soft your skin was. He wanted to crown your head with flowers and promise he was yours. Just not yet.
“I know…” his nose brushes yours, the tension grows and this time, you are the one closing distance to kiss him. You are so close to winning, to have him begging for you.
That night, he keeps kissing you, you read him your book for a bit and before realising it, both of you end up sleeping on the blanket.
In the morning, he finds you undressing to take a quick splash in the lake.
When you realize he’s awake, you smile at him.
“Morning…” like a slow striptease, you let the nightgown fall and he just stares at your body with the first rays of sun illuminating you.
“I don’t think this is a dream. Right?” You chuckle before your body disappears under the water.
It’s the perfect invitation. He joins you, and the first minutes of his morning are spent kissing you. Only to end up in the same blanket both of you slept on. With him on top of you.
“Tell me to stop now.” He says in your mouth. Your leg slowly slides through his ankle, sending shivers through his spine.
“I think it’s too late for that.”
He returns you the favor. His head between your legs is the most erotic thing he’s ever heard or seen in his life. It’s so dirty, eating you out in the middle of the wild. You taste better than expected, and it feels simple, even natural to please you. He can see how your back arches when his nose gently touches your clit. He feels so proud, and he can already see how well you two could handle being lovers. He remembers how you sucked his cock and how good you did it.
To you, you felt some insecurity, because he hadn’t decided on you. But you already feel the lead being on your side. Soon that thought fades away, because the pleasure is becoming too much. And you’re ready to receive the upcoming orgasm.
You forget about Lucy Gray, Sejanus, the deaths, your return to the Capitol.
Everything is gone as soon as you feel him. Even the pride and dignity you talked about on losing your virginity.
It just feels like it was meant to be.
“You’re so perfect…” he says, eyes on your stretch marks, fingers tracing them before moving towards north and pinching your nipples.
The way you clench around him, his lips leaving red marks on your breasts that would soon turn purple. Your moans, and your dirty mouth cursing.
“Fuck- oh, Coryo!” He couldn’t believe you just cursed. But he then realized he was fucking you. Maybe he had already chosen.
“More, please-“ you manage to say between moans. And he’s in heaven again. He fucks you harder, faster, already feeling he was close too. The silver chain dangling just in front of your face. You swear he had split you in half, but the pain was nothing compared to pleasure.
“Wait for me. We’ll do it together” you nod, noticing how intimate and passionate your first time was being. He wanted you to wait for him. And it made your heart clench. You need to hold him. So, your arms hug him, and he understands, leaning to end up with your foreheads together.
In a matter of seconds, you both reach climax.
“Promise me you’ll be careful” he nods, kissing you one last time.
“It’s gonna be fine.”
But it isn’t. You run as soon as your friends say Sejanus Plinth was going to be hanged for treason. You run and your feet burn.
When you make it, you have to hear him screaming for Coriolanus. You start reaching the front faster. But you meet his blue eyes, and you are able to see him saying no to you. Your heart beats fast, sweat on your forehead and eyes watering faster than ever.
When you look at Sejanus again, his neck broke and he was already hanging.
Coriolanus sees the shock and terror on your face. The birds flying and repeating the last words of Sejanus make it worse. He holds the rifle firmly, but his eyes water too.
He follows you as soon as he’s able to leave. Too many things happening at the same time. And he really regrets not noticing you before. None of his life would’ve been ruined.
He finds you alone in your room. Your friends were working. But you were crying on the floor, covering your face and sobbing loudly. His heart broke, and he let some tears fall too. So he couldn’t resist it anymore. He went to hug you tightly.
As soon as you felt him, you hugged him back.
“He deserved better…” you mumble between sobs. You say he was a good man. But soon your sobs stop, and Coriolanus can almost hear you plotting.
“Where is the gun you used, Coriolanus?” His heart stops, and that’s his epiphany.
“I don’t know. Lucy Gray must know…” the girl could easily be fast to learn where it was. You remain silent.
After some minutes of crying, he’s still holding your hands.
“Lucy Gray wants me to go with her outside of the districts…” you don’t have the strength to laugh, but you really wanted to.
“One last time. Do you love her, Coriolanus?” He knows it’s time and there’s no going back. So he sighs, feelings the dry tears on his face.
“No.”
Your soul can finally rest.
“In two days, I’m leaving. I got accepted by Gaul into University. I just learned this morning after receiving mail.” He looks deep at your eyes. Trying to understand what you just said.
“Then you are going with Lucy Gray. You find the gun and if needed… Also get rid of her” you knew Lucy Gray was there when the incident happened. You had also made up your mind. And you would give Coriolanus one last chance.
“I’ll wait for you for two days. If you come back, you know I’ll be yours. But if you decide to stay with her, I’ll understand. And your secret will die with me.” He feels you kiss his cheek and after that, you quietly leave. Giving him no choice but to pack to meet Lucy Gray at the Hanging Tree.
…
You wait impatiently for your train. Coriolanus was gone. He didn’t return. So, you wait with your heart full of fissures. Your violet dress makes you a target among the station. You look very Capitol again. But something from District 12 changed you.
And then you hear him. Calling your name.
When you turn, you see Coriolanus almost running towards you. You can feel some tears forming. Your messed up mind was ignoring all the hell he made you feel and see. Like he never killed anyone, like he didn’t take so long to choose you. Like you didn’t know he consciously chose to be a bad person.
He looks agitated, with his peacekeeper uniform intact. His blue eyes look thrilled. Like a lot of emotions were invading him at the same time.
And the first thing he does when he’s in front of you, is to smash his lips with yours.
It takes you by surprise. The way his free hand immediately goes to your chin. In the middle of the train station. Feels like you were meeting your lover who survived war. It feels wrong to be savoring the moment you realize Coriolanus Snow finally chose you.
At that very moment you tangle your arms around his neck, stepping on your tiptoes to deepen the kiss. He feels you smiling, and that’s all he needed.
He needed to kiss you to forget about the cabin, the birds, the gun and Lucy Gray Baird.
And he does, your lips assuring him it was okay.
He isn’t evil, he can’t be when a sweet woman like you was kissing him back.
It was delicate for sure.
“Is it over?” You ask between tears. He nods, smiling, holding you close to him.
“Everything is over now.” You won’t ask what happened. You will just savor the victory.
“I can go to the Capitol. Gaul wants to see me” your eyes shine, relief flowing across you. Knowing you will be able to go back home with him.
“Where does this leave us?” He chuckles.
“We’re marrying as soon as we make it to District 2, dear” he kisses you to soothe your shock.
Almost at the end of the ride on the train, you chuckle looking at the window. He looks with curiosity, still drooling over you wearing the earrings he gave you. They would be his reminder that you had been there since the beginning, when he had nothing to offer. And yet, you stayed.
“What?” He finally asks.
“We’re a liability, you know?” A smile forms on his face. He shouldn’t be smiling, but he does anyways.
“I would repeat everything if it meant ending up here with you” and it was true. Because he would receive the money from the Plinth family, he would be able to study from Gaul, with you. He would get rid of Highbottom, and anyone on his way. But what seemed to be the most urgent matter, was to make you his wife.
But for now, he just takes your hand, kissing it.
….
Soft!Coriolanus fic is next. Hint? It’s gonna be based on Supercut from Lorde. Thanks to my crush with Tom Blyth, I realized Reputation and Melodrama are my favorite albums on earth. If you want to be tagged on the next fic, comment!!!!!!!! <3.
Taglist: @peachyharht @toogardenheart @slytherinholland @futurecorps3 @asapkyndall @speedycashflowerbasketball
#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus x sejanus#coriolanus x you#coriolanus x reader#young coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow#coriolanus smut#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#tbosas
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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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i'm starvin, darlin - e.m.
Eddie Munson x Reader
ǁ summary: Since coming back from the Upside Down, Eddie has slowly been changing. Each week seems to bring something different and he finds himself doing things he never thought he would.
ǁ tags: gender neutral reader, no pronouns, no y/n. nickname used (sweetheart). mentions of season 4 final episode and what occurred. canon divergent (every one lived). it's not smut, but smut adjacent. it's sexy
ǁ word count: 2k
ǁ notes: i sat down and wrote an entire one shot in one sitting again. and i am also not going to edit this one. and i do not feel bad for lowercase hozier title, so don't even try me like that. if y'all really like it, i can add a part 2 with smut, but this is it for now
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There are still a lot of things Eddie is having to come to terms with since the night his heart stopped.
That night in the Upside Down, laying in Dustin’s arms, he had died. Without a doubt. Dustin had felt his pulse and there was nothing there. And though he didn’t know CPR, had no idea what he was doing, Dustin had laid him down on the ground and started to beat against his chest. Like maybe if he hit hard enough and in the right place, his friend would come back to life.
Somehow it worked. No one bothered to ask why.
But they all knew something was wrong two days later. Eddie, barely breathing and with a weak heartbeat, had been dragged back to the surface and hidden away in the RV they had stolen. Someone watched him round the clock as they debated what to do. If they should try to get him to a hospital, how they’d be able to explain it. But then something miraculous began to happen:
Eddie started healing. All on his own. Way faster than any person should have been able to.
His skin stitched itself back together faster than should be possible, leaving less scar tissue than it should have behind. His chest began to rise and fall in more steady breaths, his heart beat getting stronger, bones resetting themselves with slow and quiet creaks as he laid in that RV bed and slept. He’d been asleep since they brought him back.
The day he woke up, his body had almost entirely healed itself. From the brink of death, having even stepped over to the other side, and now he was almost back to before it ever happened. It had only been a week.
Everyone rejoiced, refusing to question anything weird that may have happened in the Upside Down and just thinking they finally won for once. Max had casts on both her arms but was otherwise unharmed, Steve had recovered from his own injuries at the rate of a normal human and now sported a scar around his throat that he sometimes felt self conscious about. Dustin was on crutches with his broken leg for another month at least. Eddie was alive and whole and back to himself. They’d made it, everyone had made it.
He began to notice more and more things that were different as the days went on.
The first thing he caught on to was that he had the capability to be strong. Way stronger than someone who had recently been bed ridden should be. It was like in the comic books with the Hulk – if he wasn’t paying attention or if he got too emotional, he could easily break anything. A walkman destroyed, a ceramic bowl reduced to shards, a metal pipe bent beyond fixing, the wooden handle of a hammer shattered in his grip. The boys were all present for the hammer incident and sighted it as one of the coolest things they had ever seen. They swarmed him, asking him how he did it, what else he could do, how strong he really was.
Only the other teens, Steve, Nancy, Robin, you, started to look a little bit closer.
When the next few changes became apparent, it was clear something unnatural had happened to Eddie that night in the Upside Down. He could feel other people's feelings. They brushed against his consciousness like ghosts whenever he looked at someone. Happiness like warm rays of sunshine, fear like a shuddering gust of wind, anger like hot coals pressed to his skin. It wasn’t a conscious effort – in fact, there were a lot of times he wished he could turn it off. Whenever he looked too hard at someone, it’s like his brain adjusted to a different frequency and their emotions reached out to him, no matter what they were. And he didn’t struggle to make sense of the sensations like he thought he might, his brain completed the dots easily at first, but then he began to recognize them consciously. It was certainly useful sometimes, especially when it came to you, but it still felt a bit invasive. When he’d explained it to a few people, he assured he tried to ignore it whenever he could, but sometimes he couldn’t help but react. The icey spike of terror he felt when you woke up next to him from a nightmare. The velvet comfort that enveloped you and him when he held you after.
The first time he spoke into someone’s mind it was an accident. Steve had whipped toward him, breath catching in his chest, eyes wide and mouth open in a gasp. Eddie felt it like ice down his spine. “Did you… You did that?” He’d asked breathlessly. It had been so shocking, Eddie wasn’t even sure what’d he said, or projected, or whatever it was.
“I - I don’t know.”
Steve stepped closer, suddenly looking determined. “Try to do it again.”
It was a slithering feeling when he dipped back into Steve’s mind. Like sliding his way in between cracks to a place he didn’t belong, seeping into the forefront of his thoughts to plant one of his own. It made him feel dirty, uncomfortable, and wrong. But it worked. Steve explained it as having a thought like his own but it came out in Eddie’s voice instead. An intrusive thought but not an uncomfortable one.
As with all of the other discoveries, a meeting was called. Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Max, Will, El, Robin, Jonathan, Nancy, Steve, and you. Steve did most of the talking while Eddie sat and looked at his hands. These meetings, while he acknowledged were important for everyone to keep track of his progression into… something, it still made him feel a bit like a zoo animal in a cage. A magician with a magic trick. All the boys immediately begged him to do it to them, they wanted to see what it felt like, wanted to see how easy it was for him to do it.
Nancy and Jonathan had shooed them, catching on to how overwhelmed Eddie was, their excitement and curiosity battering against him like a whipping wind of too much. Once it was just the older people in the room, you crossed over to where he was, kneeled down in front of him, reached out to hold his hand.
Pity felt like someone was pissing in his pants.
“Are you okay?”
How could he say no? How could he admit that he was scared, confused, and feeling more and more like a monster with the passing days? “It’s just a lot. To deal with.”
Your smile was pained as you pushed yourself up onto your calves and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. His came around your waist on instinct, the breath feeling like a wheeze in his lungs as he held tight. Face pressed into your hair with his eyes squeezed shut, he inhaled deep in relief.
That was when the next thing changed.
It was a desire. A need. One he couldn’t place a name to. Like he was desperately missing something, desperately craving something and he didn’t know it was. It crawled under his skin like ants and sent him scratching for a feeling that couldn’t be satiated. No matter what he tried: eating, drinking, masturbating, exercising. The feeling wouldn’t go away. It got stronger day after day, his mind focusing more and more on the void it left behind until it was all he could think about.
Steve threw a little get together at his house once a month or so. Just time for everyone to get together, eat some food, listen to music, play board games, maybe watch a movie. This was the first get together since his hunger began.
He was sitting on the couch on his own, decompressing. While normally he was right in the middle of everything, today it was a lot to handle when he was hyperfocused on the crawling beneath his skin. He had his legs spread wide, hands resting on them, leaning deep into the cushions of the couch in Steve’s basement. While he had initially tried to close his eyes, hang his head back, maybe stare at the ceiling – he couldn’t stop his attention from drifting back to you.
You and Eddie had been friends for a long time. Understandably, you’d gotten much closer after the events in March. The two of you had helped each other through hard nights of nightmares, panic attacks in parking lots, flashbacks in public. You’d been a great comfort to him since he came back. But today your laugh sounded like music. The smell of your perfume hit him even across the room. Each emotion crashed over him in waves, pushing and receding like the tide as he tried to get off your frequency, unentangle himself from you before he did something he didn’t mean to do.
I’m starving.
Your back stiffened, the grip on your plastic cup getting just a bit tighter. A moment of fear quickly shifted to mellowed surprise, curiosity. He’d never spoken into your mind before, hadn’t meant to do so now. But you still shifted, your eyes slowly coasting across the room until you caught sight of him on the couch.
A shock of electricity shot down his spine as you made eye contact, his hands tightening over his thighs in reaction. Unsure exactly what to do, he settled for projecting again. Slithered his way into your ears and settled a respectful distance from the area he’d never been brave enough to venture. Sorry, he offered with a wince, didn’t mean to.
What he didn’t expect was the utter flood of feeling that hit him next. Like a drip of warm honey settling into the space between his hips, pooling there in a subtle swirl as the warmth from it started to diffuse outward. You realized you’d been staring and your eyes flit away, but the feeling didn’t cease. In fact, it only got stronger. Your lower lip caught on your teeth as you shifted between your feet. Things that would be completely normal to see, wouldn’t have anyone looking twice, but Eddie could. Your desire. The want that poured from you like water when your eyes first met his.
Was this the first time? Had something changed between you and him? Or had he just never caught on before?
The ants beneath his skin began to vibrate as he narrowed in on the feeling, on you. Like the part of him that had slithered into your thoughts was now bearing down, digging in for purchase, wanting to stay awhile and feed on this new feeling, what you were offering. It didn’t even occur to him what he was doing, how invasive it might be, how wrong he normally would have felt. All he knew is that it felt like licking at the thing he’d been craving for so long and he was helpless to chase after it.
Sweetheart. It came easy as breathing now, teeth sunk into your consciousness from where you stood across the room. You whirled on him again, another flood of warmth hitting him deep as you leaned your hip against the counter you were standing next to and focused on him. What’s got you so worked up?
He couldn’t even consider how bold he was suddenly being, the fear that he might ruin this friendship well out of his grasp. Especially when your embarrassment spiked along with the want, the pool of warmth now suddenly coming to life to have a heartbeat of its own. Your eyes widened, shifting on your feet again as you broke eye contact. It only took a few moments before you couldn’t help but look back at him again. The buzzing settled further, now like a purr beneath his skin. It was bearable as long as you kept your eyes on him.
You wanna do something about it?
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thanks for reading, please reblog and leave a comment if you liked it!
#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson smut#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson hurt/comfort#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson imagines#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson blurbs#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fanfiction#myos ideas#vampire!Eddie munson#kas!eddie munson#myo4munson
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Was it all a dream? - Series Masterlist
Din Djarin x F!Reader
Series Playlist | Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist
Art by Roger Mattos | AO3
Series summary: You’ve always had vivid dreams, an escape from your monotonous life. But one night, something appears in your dreams that keeps reoccurring; a pair of brown eyes.
-Or-
Two people, in completely different parts of the galaxy, find each other in their dreams and try to make sense of the strange connection they share.
Series warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent (long live the Razor Crest), switches between Reader and Din’s POV, story takes place in the dream realm and the real world, set somewhere between the Book of Boba Fett/beginning + middle of season three, eventual smut (starts at chapter 4!), line between reality and dreams gets blurred, use of Mando’a words and phrases, no use of y/n
Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics
Chapter One: Eyes without a face
Chapter Two: One more bad dream could bring a fall
Chapter Three: But it’s not real and you don’t exist
Chapter Four: Lovely to be rained on with you
Chapter Five: You and me, we got our own sense of time
Chapter Six: I’m gonna sleep because you live in my daydreams
Chapter Seven: Somewhere I go when I need to remember your face
Chapter Eight: It isn’t the same but it is enough
Completed on 3/13/24
Bonus:
WIAD!Din edit by @pedgito
WIAD!Din gifs by @pedgito
Moodboard by @janaispunk
#wiad#din djarin x reader#din djarin x f!reader#din djarin fanfiction#din djarin#the mandalorian#the mandalorian fanfiction#din djarin x you#din djarin smut#din djarin series#star wars fanfiction#pedrostories#pedro pascal character fanfiction#pedro pascal characters
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You & Me - Rhys Montrose x Reader - Masterlist
Summary: What happens when reader assassin is tasked with killing the possible future mayor of London; Rhys Montrose. Politician by day, Eat the Rich Killer by night. But he isn’t the only person wearing different masks.
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Violence, murder, immoral sociopathic behaviour, mentions of alcoholism, drug abuse and neglect, (eventual) smut
Total word count (so far): 96k
A/N: Multi part Rhys Montrose x Female Reader fic. FYI, this fic will incorporate the use of Y/N. I have decided to also post this fic on AO3 (same username as on my Tumblr) and to change the x Reader to an Original Female Character over there using a fictitious name. That will be the only difference. So, if the use of Y/N isn’t your thing, go ahead and look the fic up on AO3 :)
Below you'll find the links to all the parts that have thus far been uploaded. I will try my best to upload a new chapter each week. Every part is also accompanied with a 'soundtrack', these are all listed below as well. Finally, a little preview of what's to come... I hope you enjoy the story as much as I enjoy writing it! There aren't a lot of Rhys x Reader fics out there, so I hope I can bring some extra flavour to the table.
Ps don't forget to watch the trailer/edit I made for the fic! x
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22
Soundtracks: 00. Feeling Good – Nina Simone 01. Royals – Lorde 02. Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene – Hozier 03. (I Just) Died in Your Arms – Hidden Citizens 04. Secrets And Lies – Ruelle 05. No Good – KALEO 06. …Ready For It? – Taylor Swift 07. Meet Me In the Woods – Lord Huron 08. The River – Daisy Jones & The Six 09. The Silence – Manchester Orchestra 10. Power – Isak Danielson 11. wicked game – Jessie Villa 12. Beautiful Crime – Tamer 13. Toxic – 2WEI 14. Cherry – Lana Del Rey 15. In the Air Tonight – Natalie Taylor 16. Whole Lotta Love (Dermot O’Leary) – Hozier 17. Lavender Haze – Taylor Swift 18. Don’t You Know – Jaymes Young 19. One For My Baby – Frank Sinatra 20. Run Baby Run – The Rigs 21. Sinnerman – Nina Simone 22. And so It Begins – Klergy
Preview
Song: Feeling Good – Nina Simone
The sound of the heavy door opening as it noisily scraped the floor made you look in his direction.
Rhys entered slightly out of breath, looking positively dishevelled as he ran a hand through his unruly curls.
“What happened to you? Killed another person?” You couldn’t help but teasingly joke, taking in his state as your eyes roamed freely over his physique.
Rhys had put his hands on his hips, taking some deep breaths to slow down his heart rate. When he looked up at you, head tilted to the side, he shot you his charming smile that feigned innocence.
No way.
You stared at him.
No way the man was truly this brazen.
He started to move closer to you, his eyes mischievous as they betrayed his wicked actions. You marvelled a little at how quickly you were getting better at reading him. Perhaps you recognised the murderous tendencies from the mirror.
#rhys montrose x reader#rhys montrose x female reader#rhys montrose fanfic#rhys montrose fanfiction#rhys montrose fic#rhys montrose#you netflix#you fanfiction#you season 4#you season 4 canon divergence#because well obviously#jonathan moore#joe goldberg#goldrose#ed speleers#i had every intention for this to be a one shot but here we are#as of now an indeterminate amount of parts#rhys montrose x original female character#on ao3#you and me#you and me masterlist
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“Meet Me Halfway” by Black Eyed Peas - fluff for Jean Kirstein please i BEG i love this song so bad
Meet Me Halfway
Can you meet me halfway? Right at the borderline is where I’m gonna wait for you.
Pairing: Jean Kirstein x reader (gn)
Word Count: ~2.1k
cw: red string of fate/soulmates trope, canon universe, canon divergent, spoilers up to Season 4, fluff
Summary: Jean’s red string of fate was loose ever since he was born. It seems like everyone but himself has found their soulmate here on Paradis. It’s only when the scouts finally head towards the sea that his string becomes a little less slack. Could it be that his fated partner is on the other side in Marley, behind enemy lines?
Author’s Note: Hi anon! Thanks for the request for the y2k karaoke party! I’ve been fascinated by the red string of fate/soulmates trope for a while now, so I wanted to try my hand at it here! This is just a little taste of this, maybe I’ll expand on this story in the future. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated, thanks for reading! Divider credits to @/saradika.
The first time they ever see the ocean, they’re speechless, neither of them speaking to one another, taking in the breathtaking view. Cerulean blue shimmers throughout the entire expanse, nearly a mirror image of the clear sky above. It took them a few days to get here and Jean was beginning to doubt just how great this thing called “the sea” could be. He never expected anything like this, though. As if the picturesque scene before him isn’t enough to get his heart racing, for the first time in his entire sixteen years of living, the red string tied around his wrist, only for him to see and feel, finally tightened just the slightest.
The lore behind the red string of fate is no secret among those living in Paradis. Each child is born with it cinched around their wrist; the other end supposedly tied to their soulmate. Jean’s has been slack since he can remember. That is, until now. While it isn’t as taut as some of his other friends, like Mikasa with Eren and now Armin with Annie, only he can tell the difference. It’s been a running joke since they found out the truth about the other side. Connie teases him and Sasha about it constantly. “Maybe your soulmates are in Marley? How does it feel to be bounded to our enemy?”
Sasha, like Jean, has never felt any differences in her rope throughout her lifetime. He turns to face her, pointing to his wrist, curious if she feels the same. Her jaw is dropped, and when she notices him signaling to her, she closes it, gulping loudly, slowly nodding.
When they all dismount their horses to explore the water, Jean momentarily forgets about it, focusing only on how cold the ocean feels on his feet, how salty is tastes on his tongue, how incredibly far it reaches, surely farther than his eyes can see. It’s only after their skin starts to wrinkle that they retreat, sitting on the warm sand instead, watching the waves crash onto the shore. He nudges Sasha. “So, you felt it too, right?”
“Yeah, I did,” she answers, hesitant. She caresses her wrist in her other hand, biting her lip.
Connie butts in. “Felt what?”
“Our strings. They’re a little less loose now that we’re here.”
He smirks. “I told you! Your soulmates are on the other side!”
Jean leans back against his hands, groaning. “I don’t want my soulmate to be on the other side. The other side has been trying to kill us for hundreds of years! This is so messed up.”
Sasha hugs her knees, pouting. “I agree. This sucks.”
Connie pats her shoulder. “Hey, you don’t have to marry your soulmate, you know. Plenty of people don’t! My parents weren’t soulmates, and they turned out just fine.”
“But you’re planning on marrying Hannah, aren’t you? Once this is all over?” Hannah is a childhood friend from Connie’s hometown, and the two have been in much more contact recently.
He chuckles. “I mean, not right now. But yeah, maybe in the future…”
“So your argument makes no sense!”
“This is different though! If your soulmate really is in Marley, I think the universe will forgive you for not marrying our enemy.”
Jean groans again, staring at the glistening ocean in front of him, shaking his head. “I just can’t believe they’re really out there and not here.”
There isn’t much they can do for now, considering they have no means to get to Marley with the current resources they have. Jean buries it in the back of his mind, trying not to think about it while they spend the next month building a base near the shore. They anticipate a Marleyan ship to arrive soon, scoping the island before implementing their attack to capture Eren, the Founding Titan. What the other side doesn’t anticipate is Paradis being prepared to ambush them to carry out their own plan in infiltrating Marley. The first one arrives when they expect it. With Eren’s Titan abilities protecting the rest of them, they manage to capture the ship easily, taking those on-board hostage for questioning. Sasha, who is usually uninterested when it comes to matters not involving food, is surprisingly invested. She watches carefully from outside the tent, waiting for them to be released from their interrogation. Jean accompanies her, unclear about her intentions until she explains to him. “My string, Jean. It’s tight. My soulmate is in there.”
They haven’t talked about it since, both choosing to ignore it for the time being. Jean’s is still as slack as the first day they arrived here, and if he’s being honest to himself, it’s crosses his mind nearly every day. A small part of him wishes he was experiencing what Sasha currently is.
Eventually, a young man with brown eyes and blonde hair steps out, looking terrified. He glances at his wrist, then his surroundings, landing his gaze on Sasha’s, who’s peeking from behind a box. She gasps loudly upon eye contact, kneeling down to hide completely. Jean does the same, not before noticing the man make a similar expression, surely curious.
Sasha doesn’t say anything more about it, though Jean can tell she’s intrigued. A few days later, like fate, the man who they find out is named Niccolo, starts working at the port as a chef. Sasha is smitten as soon as she takes a bite of his food, and from then on, the two are inseparable. Jean can’t help but feel jealous.
With all of his friends acquainted with their soulmates, Jean is growing more and more impatient by the day. It takes over two years for Paradis to organize their first trip to Marley and he’s among the first to volunteer, not only to help the scout’s reconnaissance of enemy soil, but for his own ulterior motive to finally find his soulmate. He doesn’t disclose this to anyone, though he’s certain that his best friends have a hunch.
When they finally arrive to Marley, it’s stimulation overload. They attempt to stick together as soon as they step foot off the ship, though it’s difficult when there are so many new and exciting things to try. It’s especially hard for Jean when he notices his string getting more and more taut with each step he takes deeper into the city.
They all decide to split up momentarily to explore, agreeing to meet back at the port in an hour. Jean and Connie follow Sasha through the crowded streets. She’s being led by her noise and eyes, searching for the tastiest, most delectable looking treats to try upon Niccolo’s instructions. “You have to try ice cream!” he told her days before they departed and it hasn’t left Sasha’s mind since. She sneaks glances at the small note he gave her, trying to match the words he wrote to the storefronts. “There! I see it! An ice cream parlor!” She rushes towards a colorful shop, pushing her face towards the glass window, drooling. Connie drags her towards the entrance, which dings as they walk through. Jean increases his pace to catch up and the string around his wrist is tight now. He scans his surroundings, trying to see what direction the little rope is pointing to. As he follows his friends inside the shop, it’s unbelievable taut now, and he’s certain that his soulmate is inside this ice cream parlor. His heart races, simultaneously terrified and excited to meet you.
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A little over two years ago, you notice the string around your wrist feels heavier on you than usual. You’re often teased about your soulmate being an “island devil” on Paradis, considering you’re the only Eldian left in Liberio without a one. In all honestly, it doesn’t bother you, the idea of your destined partner being on the other side. Even if they are an “island devil”, you’d still like to meet them. After all, you’re soulmates for a reason, right?
You spend several minutes each day sitting at the port, staring out towards the sea, wondering what they are like. You ignore the propaganda that’s been spewed at you since birth and instead fantasize about what their interests are. Do they like the same things that you do? What do you have in common, besides the rope that ties you together? How much taller or shorter are they, what color hair do they have? Do their eyes twinkle with kindness the way you picture they do? Will their smile be as charming as you imagine it? You dream about this for over two years, slowly letting the fantasy fade into the back of your mind before you lose your sanity. It’s easy to obsess over something, but it’s hard to get out of it once it consumes you. There’s no guarantee that you’ll ever meet them at this rate, so you go about your life as usual, distracting yourself from any romanticized ideas of your uncertain love story.
Today, you’re behind the counter of the ice cream parlor you work at. You started working here several months ago, hoping to be near the port in case one day, they arrive. The past few days, you convince yourself it’s just your imagination, the gradual tightening of the string. This morning, it’s tauter than it’s ever been before, and you’re certain you’re not making this up anymore; they’re here, they’re actually here.
There isn’t time to go looking for them yourself, so you begin your shift, itching for the hours to pass quickly so that you can leave to begin your search. Fortunately, you don’t have to. Two people around your age enter the shop first, behaving oddly. They’re dressed normally, though something about them piques your interest. It’s especially alarming at how stiff the string is now, so you inspect each of their wrists carefully, dejected when you don’t see a match. The girl presses her nose to the glass, ogling at the ice cream displayed in the freezer, drooling. Her friend, a boy with a shaved head, tugs her off, apologizing with a nervous chuckle. “Sorry about her. She gets a little crazy when she sees something she wants.”
You smile at them. “No need to apologize. Our ice cream is the best in town, so her reaction is understandable. What would you like?”
The girl blurts out, “Everything!”
“Sasha! We don’t have enough money for everything!”
She pouts, eyes flitting across each flavor. “But they all look so good! How am I supposed to decide which one to pick?!”
Feeling generous, you offer, “I can do a sampler platter, if you’d like.”
Sasha’s face brightens. “Really?! You’d do that? How much would that cost? Connie, how much do we have?!”
You wave them off, beaming at them. “It’s on the house. Consider it some good old Marley hospitality.”
They gawk at you, shocked, and it only makes you giggle louder. You retrieve one of your larger bowls and ready your scooper, starting at one end of the freezer. The bell on the front door rings, but you’re too busy to greet the new customer directly. “I’ll be with you in just a moment!”
It’s only now that you realize how stiff the string is, practically quivering now from being pulled so tight. You look up and see a young man staring at you, holding his wrist up with the same red string coiled around him, an uneasy grin on his face. “Hello.”
You almost drop the scooper into the carton, astonished to have finally found him. “Hi,” you say, heat rushing into your cheeks, taken aback at how handsome he is. “Um, let me just finish this.”
“Jean, you’re distracting our new friend here! She’s giving us all this ice cream for free!” Sasha exclaims, salivating over the bowl overflowing with ice cream now.
He smiles at you, running his fingers in his hair. “Sorry. Please, continue.”
It takes you a few seconds to refocus back on your task. Eventually, you scoop all twelve flavors into a bowl, handing it off to Sasha and Connie, who dig in immediately as soon as they sit down. You pass a spoon to Jean. “Would you like to try? Before your friends finish it off?”
He laughs, grabbing it. “I guess I should, right?”
“Or I could scoop your own if you’d like. Which one do you want to try?”
He studies each carton carefully, pointing at your favorite flavor by coincidence. “This one is calling out to me for some reason.”
Your heart beats quicker, amazed by this serendipity. “That’s my favorite,” you admit, getting him a scoop.
“I had a feeling it would be,” he replies, beaming.
#jean kirstein#jean kirschstein#jean kirschtein x reader#jean kirstein x reader#jean kirstein x you#jean kirschstein x reader#jean kirstein fluff#jean kirschstein fluff#aot fluff#aot x reader#attack on titan fluff#jean kirschstein x you#y2k karaoke party#milestone event
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— i. did you get what you deserve?
summary: the beginning.
cw: season 4 canon divergent, grumpy eddie, medical talks
an: this is a wayne heavy chapter, but i doubt anyone will complain.
Ringing. A very loud ringing. That’s all Eddie can hear.
Something’s pushing on his chest.
The ringing gets louder, until it peaks and starts to fade. Muffled voices all around him, and he can feel his body shifting.
Then it shifts a lot. Ouch, that hurts.
Everything is dark. Or maybe his eyes are closed?
His eyes flutter a bit, but everything is blurry.
There’s some yelling, but it’s too garbled in his ears to make out what’s being said.
It was dark one moment, then suddenly very bright. Like a flash directly in his eye. And then again.
Everything hurts, he notices suddenly. But only because he feels it all slipping away. His body starts to float, suspended in black with a light just above him. Instinctively he swims towards it. It feels like warm sun rays on his cold, cold body.
When he hits the surface, everything starts to hurt again. His eyes open to a dimly lit room. Every part of his body feels heavy. Even moving his head is a challenge. There’s something next to him though, a presence that he can see out of his peripherals. He tries to call out, but there’s something in his mouth, his throat, obstructing his ability to talk. With all he can muster, he lets out a groan through his nose. Whatever is next to him shifts, moving quickly with a screech.
“Ed? Ed, you awake son?!”
“I can help who’s next!”
Feet shuffling beneath you, you clutch your handbag close as you move through the bodies of your classmates. A handsome man about your age with a million dollar smile sits on the other side of the table. He looks at you expectantly as you take the hint, fumbling in your bag for your student ID.
“Sorry,” you mumble as he gives the card once over. He says your name and laughs when you respond with a yes?
“Thank you for coming,” he beams, “We’re happy to see so many people volunteering to help out.” He clicks his pen and copies your name down on a paper. You look him over as he does this. Thick, dark hair styled perfectly, with long lashes to match. His name is Sam, per the Hello my name is sticker on his shirt. He’s cute, you think.
“Yeah,” your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth so it comes out weird. After licking your lips, you continue. “Our teacher told us we could get extra credit. I guess everyone could use it after our last test.”
Nursing school is hard. Even harder when you don’t know anyone in your class. A lot of the girls all went to the surrounding high schools and knew at least one other person in one of their classes. But that wasn’t the case for you.
“I’ve heard some of those classes you all take are no joke,” he laughs, flipping through a stack of papers next to him.”
“I certainly wasn’t laughing.”
He stops his flipping, looking up at you through those thick lashes, his eyes creased at the corners from his smile.
“You’re not from around here, are you?”
The question catches you off guard. Was it that obvious?”
“N-no, I’m from up north.” You gesture upward, pointing above you.
“Like Canada?”
Now you’re smiling, “Try Anderson.”
“Oh, jeez,” he shakes his head, “That’s hardly north.”
“More north than here.”
“You got me there.”
He pulls a small stack from his pile, sliding it across the table until it’s in front of you. You look down at it, immediately noticing that a large portion of the top page is blacked out by sharpie. Flipping it over, you see that the second page is pretty much the same, barely any information to be gathered at all from this “info” sheet.
“You look confused,” Sam says in a sarcastic tone.
“Um, just a little,” you sass him back, looking at him with a silent plea for answers.
“Okay, so, this guy here,” he points to the top of the page, finger just above the name Eddie Munson. “He’s not a very…popular guy around this area. I’ve been trying to get someone to take him as their case all morning and everyone’s turned him down.”
Your head tilts, eyes skimming over the paper as he talks. Under his name is an address in Hawkins, but most everything else is blacked out, even his age.
Still, even with the lack of knowledge you’ve hardly ever been one to turn someone down.
“Okay,” you say with a nod.
“Okay?” Sam parrots back, shifting forward excitedly in his seat.
“Yes, I’ll take him.”
“That’s great!”
He grabs his pen and writes your name next to Mr.Munson’s on the paper, before sliding it into a white folder.
Sam pauses for a moment, a hand running through his hair as he looks around. “Hold on,” he says as he stands up, “let me find my lead and I’ll try and get you some more information on him.” He looks into your eyes, then up and down at you. Was he checking you out? Ugh, why did you have to be in your uniform right now?
You stand awkwardly as he leaves, taking the time to flatten the wrinkles in your dress and adjust your flossie. This school was one the only schools who hadn’t gotten with the times, still mandating the Nightingale uniform over scrubs for any female students.
“Okay, so,” Sam tucks some papers into a red folder, “I wasn’t able to get anything too specific to tell you. I guess there’s a lot of hush hush going on with him right now. But, my lead did tell me I could give you this care packet. It’s all stuff you should know how to do, but it’ll give you a hint on what kind of care he’s going to need.”
You take the folder from him, opening it up to peak inside, only for him to place another paper with a card attached on top.
“That paper is for the organization itself. You just have to have the patient or guardian sign when you go over there as proof to get your credit. Oh and,” he points to the card,” that’s my information. Feel free to call me if you, uh, have any questions.”
Suddenly, someone bumps into you. You close the folder quickly and turn around with wide eyes.
“Sorry, sorry,” your classmate, Rhonda, apologizes with a wave of her hands as she keeps walking down the table. You breathe in, giving her a nod of acknowledgment before looking at Sam again.
“Okay, um, thank you for everything,” you say, backing up from the table and making your exit. He calls out to you, but your ears are already starting to ring before you can even get to the double doors.
Your feet carry you out of the building and into the hot August air. Sweat immediately beads at your hairline under the unforgiving sun, a most brutal summer that feels like it’s never going to end.
You make a beeline for the parking lot, fumbling with your keys as you unlock your car and immediately begin rolling your windows down to try and let the non-existent breeze cool down your interior. Reaching inside you grab your pack of smokes and lighter from your middle console, lighting one up and feeling immediate relief as the smoke fills your lungs.
The drive to your friend's house is quiet other than the low tune of the radio playing. Tonya’s car isn’t in the driveway, and you say a silent thanks under your breath to have some time alone. You love Tonya, she’s been with you through everything, but you need some time to mentally decompress before dealing with her big personality.
After a quick shower and a bit of rummaging through the fridge for something quick to eat, you sit at the dining room table and start going through the red folder Sam gave to you. The top paper with the signature spots had a section on the top that you hadn’t noticed before where some information had been filled out.
“The patient would like to be seen at…” You see a few time slots printed on the paper starting from 8 am ranging all the way to 5pm, the ladder being the time circled. You suddenly realize Sam never asked you what your availability was, or much of anything really. Not that you asked him anything either.
Five pm was pretty late in the day, and as you kept reading, you noticed that the next section asking for “frequency of visits” had Monday through Friday circled.
This guy wants to be seen every day? You think to yourself. Maybe he doesn’t have anyone to cook for him or something.
Going through the different directional packets doesn’t make you feel much better. Information on post op care, wound disinfection, dressing changes--things you’ve done before, but not by yourself, and certainly not in someone’s home.
Why do you do this to yourself?
The drive to Hawkins isn’t terrible. The “Welcome to Hell” didn’t do anything to settle your nerves, but you persisted.
A lot of closed roads lead you to take some detours, but you’d still be able to see how badly damaged the town was after the earthquake hit them. Businesses, houses, streets, all completely ruined by the way the ground split the town in fours.
You mustered up the courage to ask one of your classmates from here about what happened, and she told you that some serial killer tried to destroy the town by sacrificing teens to the devil. “Oh, okay,” was all you could give as a response. It was hard to tell if she was fucking with you or not, so you just decided to go and see Sam instead.
That turned out to not be a fruitful endeavor either. He seemed to dance around your questions, dodging them by asking you about yourself instead. You left with none of your questions answered other than a start date for your visitations.
The start day is today, a blazing hot Monday. You didn’t have time to change out of your uniform since your professor asked you to stay over to help clean up after labs, clock getting closer and closer to 5pm as you drive down this woodsy road.
A mailbox appears ahead with numbers that match the address given to you. You slow down and turn onto the gravel path, expecting to see a house as you do. Instead the drive continues into the woods, the thick lining of the surrounding trees blocking you from seeing past the brush even with full sun. The gravel crunches under your tires as you keep going down the path, following it up a slight incline before reaching a clearing.
In the center of the clearing is a one story ranch style house, half brick and half light blue paneling. It has a covered front porch, bare except for a small table and a single chair, an overflowing ashtray dead in the center. Well that’ll be good for you.
The house looked brand new, and completely out of place in the middle of the woods. It was almost creepy in the way it contrasts against the trees and dirt, no grass to be found.
That's what it is, you realize. This house feels void of life.
You park your car next to an old gray pick up truck and sit there for a moment. Maybe you could smoke one more cigarette before going in. But what if they heard you coming and wonder why you’re taking so long?
“Fuck it,” you say to yourself, grabbing your supply bag and pushing open the car door.
You keep your head down, watching the dirt stick to your black uniform shoes as you cross the yard to the front porch. You knock on the door, wiping your feet on the welcome mat as best as you could. A pair of dirty work boots sits just outside the door.
There’s movement behind the door that makes your head snap up, taking in a deep breath as you wait for the door to open. A quiet pause is interrupted by the sounds of multiple locks being undone and the door pulling open just enough to make the chain lock taught.
An older gentleman’s wrinkled face makes its appearance in the crack of the door, looking at you up and down. “Can I help you?” He has a slight southern drawl, voice a bit horse as if he had just woken up.
“Y-yes,” you squak, “um, are you Mr.Munson?”
His eye narrows and you see his arm shift behind the wall.
“Depends on who's askin.”
“I-I’m sorry, I’m here volunteering with Visiting Angels? I was-“
He cuts you off with your name, asking it as a confirmation of who you are. You nod, “Yes, that’s me!” He looks you up and down. He grunts, shifting a bit until the sound of something hitting the ground slightly catches your attention.
The door closes slightly, and with a click opens fully to reveal the older man in his entirety, standing aside enough for you to walk in, but his eyes scan the area behind you suspiciously.
“Come on in,” he says, closing the door behind you, “I honestly didn’t think anyone was gonna come.”
“Well, I don’t mind the drive,” you say with a tight smile. Mr.Munson stands in place as you let your eyes wander over the house. The smell of fresh paint filled your nostrils, and the new furniture and bare walls gave you the same creepy feeling as the outside of the house. As your eyes reach the front door, you suppress a physical reaction to the large shotgun leaning against the wall next to it.
A deep sigh from the man has you turning to face him, his rough hand running over his face to the back of his head. “You don’t have any clue, do you?”
“I’m sorry?” You’re having a hard time hiding the nerves that are bubbling up in your chest, body entering fight or flight mode.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” he says, walking away from you and plopping down in one of the recliners. He gestures to the couch, “Have a seat, I’ll try and explain.”
You hesitate. You’re right by the door, you don’t have to do this. This guy doesn’t seem like he needs any help anyway. Sam’s words about him not being very popular in this area come to the forefront of your mind and now your head is swirling with possibilities as to why.
A small ringing from another part of the couch pulls you from your spiral.
“Shit, hold on a second,” the man says as he rises back to his feet, “let me go see what he wants and I’ll be right back.” He walks past you and down the hall, leaving you by yourself.
This is it. Just turn around now and leave.
“Whatcha need, Ed?”
Your ears perk up. Was the man you were talking to not who you came here for? Maybe it’s his dad, and the man you’re talking to is just Eddie’s tired son who needs help taking care of him. But why would he call his own dad Ed? Maybe it’s an uncle or a family friend? He did say he was a Munson…
“Okay, let me whip something up for ya.”
The mystery Munson walks back down the hall, slowing down enough to talk as he walks by. “The boy’s hungry, can we talk in the kitchen while I heat him up somethin?”
“Oh, yeah, sure,” you say after a moment, following behind him into a large dining room/kitchen area. There’s a huge table in the center of the dining area that’s covered with boxes labeled with things like “dishes,” “salvaged photos,” “salvaged misc.” It all the sudden clicks for you.
“So, I’m not sure what all they told you,” the man starts, speaking with his back turned as he pulls some things from the fridge.
“I was given a name and an andress,” you say almost playfully, letting some of the tension leave your body.
“Should’a known,” he says, looking over his shoulder at you with a smile and a roll of his eyes. “I think its for legal purposes, they can't disclose much about my nephew or something like that. But, uh,” he nods his head to one of the bar chairs at the counter between the two of you, “I can.”
And so he did. He told you about how a murderer had escaped from prison and snuck back to Hawkins, murdering teens and attempting to pin it on his nephew. The killer had killed a girl in their old trailer, right in front of Eddie, almost killing him, too.
But, since no one had realized that the killer escaped, the whole town had believed it was Eddie the whole time. Four teens were killed, almost 5, and Eddie was brutally tortured before his friends were able to save him.
“Oh, my god,” you gasp with a hand over your mouth.
“I know,” the man, Wayne, says as he scoops the macaroni and cheese into a bowl. He opens a drawer and pulls out a spoon with a large, grippy handle that you recognized from your nurse shadowing. They’re normally used for people who’ve had strokes or other hand mobility issues. He shoves the spoon into the bowl and walks around the counter.
“I guess I’ve talked about him enough, might as well meet him for yourself.”
You slid out of your seat and follow Wayne down the hall to the very end. He gives the door a knock before opening it with a quick “coming in!”
Stepping in behind him, you see a large, mostly empty room with more new looking furniture and a few boxes in various places. In the center against the wall was a hospital bed with a large pull bar dangling above it. You were expecting to see someone laying in the bed, but were met with the sight of a lump of blankets and comforters instead.
“Ed, food’s ready boy,” Wayne says as he pulls a bedside table from against the wall to the bed. “Got someone here for you to meet, too.”
The lump on the bed moves a bit, and for a brief moment you see a set of eyes and a few wild curls peek from under the covers. But, just as quickly as you see them, they’re hidden once again.
“Ed—“
“No,” his muffled, strained voice calls from under the covers.
“Boy, don’t do this. You know I can’t leave you alone when I go—“
“No!” The voice squeaks, followed by a harsh cough. Wayne sighs, setting the bowl down softly.
“Let me get him set up and I’ll, uh, meet you back out in the living room.”
“Oh, okay,” you say quickly, backing out of the room and closing the door behind you. You’re barely down the hall when you can hear some strained yelling coming from the last room at the end of the hall.
You settle back in the kitchen where you can’t hear the conversation happening between the two men. You thought about dark and dull eyes that looked at you briefly, how even with only that small glance of him, Eddie looked tired. Just about as tired as his uncle, who rounded the corner a few minutes later.
“I’m so sorry about him, he’s just a little weary about strangers,” the older man says walking over to the phone sitting on the wall, picking it up and dialing.
“It’s okay, I can understand that.” You give him a small smile, which he tries to return, but is distracted as whoever he’s calling picks up on their end.
“Hey, Chief, it’s Wayne—sorry, yeah, Jim. Listen, Ed’s new caretaker is here, but he’s throwing a bit of a fit about ‘er. Think you’d be able to come and sit with him f’r the night until we can try again tomorrow?”
Disappointment washes over you. Not that you weren’t used to rejection, but you’d hardly been able to even give a first impression. Maybe your uniform put him off? Gotta start keeping clothes in the car to change into from now on…
The phone clings as Wayne hangs it up, body relaxing as a slow breath leaves him. He looks over to you, rather looking through you for a moment before clearing his throat.
“Little miss, can I be frank with you?”
“It’s the uniform isn’t it?”
Wayne barks out a laugh, and you chuckle even though your inquiry was serious. “No, no--well, maybe a little.”
“I knew it,” you rest your forehead in the palm of your hand.
“It’s fine, you don’t have to wear it when you’re here. S’long as you’re decent I don’t really care what you wear here to be honest. But, I did want to talk to you more about what we’re actually needing here.”
You look up at him, head tilting to the side in confusion. Several questions sit on the tip of your tongue, but you chose to just nod for him to continue.
“Okay. So, uh, I’ve been off work this whole time. Since March. I’ve been with the plant for a long time and my boss’s took a lotta pity on me with everything that’s going on. But…well that time is running out, and I can’t rely on anyone else to keep these bills paid, ya know?”
“Yes, yeah, I totally get that. Broke college kid here.”
“Right,” he chuckles. “So, I gotta go back to work. Tonight, actually, and, uh, I know this is short notice, but I need someone to stay here…while I’m at work.”
Your eyes go wide. “Oh, you wanted me to be, like, an overnight caretaker?”
“Yeah, I just, ya see with everything I told you about what happened, I couldn’t get anyone to come out and take care of him. Either they couldn’t pass a background check or once they realized who he was…So the Visiting Angel’s place was my last ditch effort to try and get someone in here. They said that it would be free if we went through the volunteer program, and that even though y’all are students that you’d still be able to help--But I understand if you can’t. You probably got a job and a family and a boyfrie--”
“I’ll do it.” The words fly out of your mouth without much thinking. But this poor man in front of you has been through hell with his nephew and how can you say no to him?
“Wait, really?” It’s his turn for his eyes to bug out, hardly able to believe what he’s hearing.
“Yeah, sure, I don’t mind. What time do you need me to be here?”
Wayne’s face softens, head hanging low like he still can’t wrap his head around your words. “Well, uh,” he starts, “I gotta leave here ‘round 6:30 and I work til about 5 am give or take depending on the night crew. If you'd be here about 6 or quarter after, that would be just fine. I don’t know how to cook much, but I could try and whip ya up something when I make Ed’s dinner, and you could work on yer school or watch tv or whatever girls your age like to do.”
“I’m plenty content to just work on school or watch tv,” you assure him.
“Good, good,” he says with a nod, turning to look into the living room. “We don’t got a bed in the third bedroom yet, so you’ll have to sleep on the couch until I can find the time to go and get one. Am I gonna have’ta talk to your parents or anything about why you’re not coming home during the week or anything?”
“What? Oh, no, no,” you wave your hands at his question, “Not unless you know how to talk to the dead.”
“Ah, shit, sorry,” Wayne cringes, hand running through his barely there hair.
“It’s okay, you didn’t know,” you say as you stand from your chair, “I will have to figure out how to tell my roommate. I don’t think she would like it if I told her that I was staying the night with a guy who was acquitted for murder.”
Oops. You bite your tongue between your teeth, wishing you could take the last bit of that sentence back. But Wayne’s laugh makes you feel less bad.
“Trust me, if I was in your roommates shoes I wouldn’t be too happy either.”
The ring of Eddie’s bell echoes down the hall again, pulling both of your attention to the sound.
“Better let me go myself. Don’t want to upset him again tonight. Why don’t you go head and head home and in the meantime I’ll talk to him. Try again tomorrow. How’s that sound?”
“Sounds like a plan!”
“Good,” Wayne says, walking you to the door. He lets you out with a goodbye, the closing of the front door being followed by the sounds of locks being put back in their place.
The drive home was quiet, but your head was swirling with thoughts. Your brain goes back and forth on the situation you just got yourself into.
Instead of focusing on the negatives, you decide to make a list in your mind of things you’d need to bring with you to stay the night; a toothbrush, deodorant, your own pillow and blanket—would they let you take a shower there? Hopefully so, since some days you’re going to have to come over straight from work or class. So add shampoo and conditioner. Probably body wash, too. You doubt that two men living together use anything other than head and shoulders.
You cringe when you think about using feminine products while there. Maybe you’d just keep them in your bag and grab them as you need them. It wouldn’t hurt to bring an extra towel in case you need to put it under you while you sleep.
Going through your mental checklist helps make the drive go by. Before you know it, you’re turning onto your street, where, surprise, surprise, Tonya’s boyfriend is once again parked in your spot in the driveway. You park on the street with a huff, thinking of all the things you want to say, but know you ultimately wont, not being one for confrontation.
“Hey, girl,” Tonya calls out from the couch. The smell of delicious food filling the whole house, so you know Charles must be cooking. “Go get a plate, Charlie just finished cooking.”
“I’m good, I grabbed something while I was out.” A lie, but you’d rather retreat to your room until Charles left. You’ve never been a fan of him and his pompous, know it all attitude. It was just better if you kept your interactions with him to a minimum rather than having to pretend he doesn’t get on your nerves.
It was a few hours later, nearing 10 pm when you finally heard Tonya shut the front door, signaling that it was safe to leave. She was cleaning up Charle’s mess in the kitchen when you walked out from your room.
“Hey,” you said quietly, keeping a comment about cleaning up after a child to yourself.
“I was wondering when you were going to come out,” she teases. “Thought I was gonna have to slip you a plate under your door.”
“Ha, ha,” you deadpan, opening the fridge to pull out leftovers from the weekend.
“So why’d you come home so late today?”
The calendar with both of your schedules scribbled in stared you in the face as you closed the refrigerator door. You weren’t a very social person, usually just coming straight home from school or work. And even though Tonya was a very chill person 99% of the time, that wasn’t the case when it came to you.
“I, uh…” you stuttered. You had the whole drive home and you forgot to think about what you’d tell her. If she knew the truth, she’d flip her lid and talk you out of it. You could try to lie, but there’s no way she’d believe you if you told her you were staying with a new guy that you’d never talked about or that you were helping out another friend she knows you don’t have.
“I had a job interview!” It was the only sensible thing you could think of that may be somewhat convincing to her. “For a…nursing home. As a nurse's assistant.”
“Woah, really?” Tonya sets her cup on the counter, jaw dropped in excitement. “Omg, okay, how did it go? Are they going to have you do another interview? Details, girl, details!”
“Okay, okay,” you laugh, putting out your hands to keep her from shaking you. You wrack your brain, trying to come up with a story on the spot. “It’s a newer nursing home…very small. Um, I would be able to do some of my nursing stuff under supervision of a nurse. And…it’s overnights—“
“Hold on, overnights?” Tonya interruptus, “Girl, that’s a lot with your school schedule.”
“Oh, um, I know, but its super casual and I can sleep in the afternoon when I get out of class or after work—“
“Wait, you’re not quitting CoffeeHouse?”
Shit.
“Ah, about that, um, I’m…still going to try and work there, just in case. Like if this doesn’t work out.”
Tonya eyes you, making your hands feel sweaty under her scrutinizing gaze. “I don’t understand,” she states with a concerned tone.
“What do you mean?”
“Why do you need to have two jobs? You don’t pay rent, Charlie cooks for all of us a couple times a week. I take care of the bills—“
“I feel guilty,” you blurt out, feeling actually guilty when you see her face contort with sadness.
“No, babes, I told you that I didn’t want your money. I want you to focus on something for you for once.”
“This is for me though. It’s a chance to actually get a more authentic experience in my field, and — and I can’t just take and take from you forever.”
Tonya lunges forward, enveloping you in her arms. “Why noooooot,” she wines, fake crying into your shoulder, “just let me take care you, baby giiiiiirl.”
“Stooooooooop,” you cry back, “I’m an independent woman who don’t need no man, remember? I believe you’re the one who told me that.”
“Right, no man. But you do need me!” She pulls back flashing her picture perfect smile at you that has had guys folding for her since middle school.
“You’re right,” you sigh in faux defeat, “if only I was enough for you…”
“Oh my gooooood, just get over your hang ups and learn to love him. He’s really not that bad.”
“I don’t know what you see in him.”
“Not like you have room to talk.”
You gasp, putting on a dramatic display at her poking at your taste in men.
“Don’t even try it,” she flicks your forehead. “When you find a guy that’s not totally batshit, then come talk to me.”
“I can’t help that I attract the crazies.”
After a few more white lies and half truths, the conversation shifts to other topics, including that of a retreat that Charles is planning for the two of them for their one year anniversary. Eventually you wind down and head to your room, making sure to check the locks on the door and windows on the way.
thank you for reading.
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson slow burn#disabled!eddie munson#eddie lives#eddie munson st4#canon divergent#grumpy!eddie munson x sunshine!reader#eddie munson x nurse!reader
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Repost of Jax’ Tags
because they’re being stupid
Jax ✖ (Aesthetics)
Jax ✖ You can’t sit in this chair without being a savage (Musings)
Jax ✖ (Character Development)
Jax ✖ (Crack)
Jax ✖ (Headcanons)
Jax ✖ (Photos)
V: Rebellion is the only thing that keeps you alive [Teen Jax]
V: The Prince Prospects [Jax as a Prospect],
V: All I ever wanted was a Harley and a Kutte [Pre-Show SAMCRO Jax]
V: Some days you’re the beamer, some days you’re the goddamned deer [Season 1]
V: I’m not the one out there murdering women! [Season 2]
V: It’s going to get a lot worse before it gets better [Season 3]
V: I know you killed my father [Season 4]
V: You can’t sit in this chair without being a savage [Season 5]
V: My self-hate is so deep, so palpable [Season 6]
V: I’m sorry that the family I was given has created so much chaos in the family I’ve chosen [Season 7]
V: The crow no longer speaks to me [Surviving AU]
V: Soar on my Wings [Canon Divergent AU]
V: He sees all my sins, He reads my soul [Time-jumps]
#Jax ✖ (Aesthetics)#Jax ✖ You can’t sit in this chair without being a savage (Musings)#Jax ✖ (Character Development)#Jax ✖ (Crack)#Jax ✖ (Headcanons)#Jax ✖ (Photos)#V: Rebellion is the only thing that keeps you alive [Teen Jax]#V: The Prince Prospects [Jax as a Prospect]#V: All I ever wanted was a Harley and a Kutte [Pre-Show SAMCRO Jax]#V: I’m not the one out there murdering women! [Season 2]#V: It’s going to get a lot worse before it gets better [Season 3]#V: Some days you’re the beamer some days you’re the goddamned deer [Season 1]#V: I know you killed my father [Season 4]#V: You can’t sit in this chair without being a savage [Season 5]#V: My self-hate is so deep so palpable [Season 6]#V: The crow no longer speaks to me [Surviving AU]#V: Soar on my Wings [Canon Divergent AU]#V: He sees all my sins He reads my soul [Time-jumps]#V: I’m sorry that the family I was given has created so much chaos in the family I’ve chosen [Season 7]#Jax tags
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Take a Chance with Me | OP81
oscar piastri x reader (fc: huh yunjin)
— Part 4
Previous Part
Summary: When things aren't going well, Y/N takes a break for a while and redirects her focus to other things, spending more time with Oscar and her friends. Y/N's friends and Oscar consistently support her, ensuring Y/N is okay, even though she often insists she's fine.
Disclamer: This is a story created for fun without any hate towards anyone. This work exists in a realm separate from the original canon. Characters may be divergent from their established personas. So, just enjoy the rollercoaster ride.
oscarpiastri added a story
landonorris are u proposing mate?
oscarpiastri yeah mate, proposing to decide who pays the bill
yourbff
tagged yourusername
liked by oscarpiastri, user and 29,112 others
yourbff Through thick and thin, we've been laughing side by side for ten fantastic years. Wishing you endless happiness❤️
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user friendship goalsss
user they are so PRETTYYYY
user both of you are not only stunning but also funny😂
oscarpiastri reserving my spot for the next decade😁
yourbff you're claiming to be one of my best friend spot now? i'll ask y/n first for the approval
lilymhe
liked by oscarpiastri, alexalbon, carmenmmundt and 29,112 others
lilymhe nature therapy🍃💖
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user lily with y/n?????
user lol y/n just casually third-wheeling Lily and Alex😂
user mother, father and their daughter
user isn't y/n outfit too fancy for hiking??😂
lilymhe she thought we were just joking about going hiking😭
alexalbon y/n seemed a bit lost without oscar
oscarpiastri well, she loves being a dork
user MOTHER SLAYING AS USUAL😍
user Y/N is literally everywhere but not on her own Instagram :(
user yeah but we love seeing how people around her being so supportive
f1updates
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f1updates oscar was seen at a karting track with the young karteers yesterday
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user finally we got new pics of oscar!!
user it's cute seeing the interaction between the kids and oscar
user AH OSCAR I MISS U POOKIE
user this is so lovely<3
user no y/n?
user i guess y/n isn't kind of wags who sticks to her partner all the time🤷♀️
user agreed, i've seen her at races only a few times
user when she doesn't need him anymore, she throws him under the bus
user lol wdym she just know what she should prioritize. Even oscar himself said she has her own life
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f1wags After a brief hiatus from social media, y/n makes a cameo on her friend's IG Live today! In today's live, she spilled the beans on some questions about her christmas holiday in Australia and the short getaway in Japan with Oscar. She couldn't help but gush about the incredible experience—her first time in Australia. Oscar played the perfect tour guide, showing her around his hometown and introducing her to his family. He also told us about their short getaway in Japan. Y/N explained that they haven't seen each other for more than two weeks as Oscar is already back to work—busy with meetings, simulator sessions, and prepping for the upcoming F1 season at the McLaren Technology Centre, and she have to return to her work and projects too.
And can we just say, we're glad the couple is still in good terms after the recent not-so-great rumors?
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user OMG, missed seeing you around, Y/N!
user she's talking about christmas in australia and their japan getaway? I need all the details!!
user she said they went to kyoto, disneyland, tried some street foods and traditional tea ceremony🥺
user i'm so happy y/n and oscar are still going strong and just ignore the haters and rumour
user their holiday stories are giving me major FOMO
user you radiate beauty and glow when you are unproblematic<3
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yourusername in 2023, my journey went from ginger to black, mirroring the different stages of my life. It's like a colorful map of my growth and transformation, representing the beautiful journey i've had. Grateful for the lessons, the love, and the incredible people i met along the way❤️
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yourbff always proud of you!!❤️
user you're the sweetest, y/n! please always be happy❤️
landonorris what's wrong with the last photo?
yourusername my reaction when u got pole in Brazil
landonorris really?
yourusername whatever makes u happy🤗
user wish you nothing but the best, y/n❤️
user caption on point💯
yourusername
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yourusername same with me again next year?
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user would be funny if oscar reacted with no
yourusername DON'T GIVE HIM IDEA
oscarpiastri i'll take that as reference thankyou😁
user adopt me
user the second pic is adorable😭
user this is the cutest photodump ever omfg
lilymhe ❤️❤️
yourusername love u mother, xo
oscarpiastri ready for another journey with me?
yourusername 💑💯
notes: honestly, i really want to put some conflict but i dunnoooo i can't bring myself to do it because i love them so much<///3 i dont want to mess with their lovey-dovey bickering dynamic:((( Maybe in the next part, I'll toss in some drama to keep things interesting hahaha lol. Thankyou for reading this chapter and hope u like it. Anyways, what do you think so far? Share your thoughts and let's have a chitchat with me<3
taglist: @fall-bambi @minkyungseokie @neoivy1
#oscar piastri#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri fanfic#oscar piastri au#f1 fluff#f1 fanfic#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri fluff#f1 smau#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#oscar piastri smau
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Love, Rest Your Head
Rating: Teen and Up
CW: Canon Typical Injuries
Tags: Pre-Season 4, Aftermath of Starcourt Mall, Aftermath of Torture, Season 4, Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Steve Harrington, Major Character Injury, Established Relationship, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Has Head Trauma, Mentions of Vomiting, Self Sacrificing Steve Harrington, Mentions of Major Character Death (In Reference to Hopper), Foreshadowing, Ambiguous Ending
💕—————💕
The news was pure devastation. Overhead shots of the Starcourt Mall burning. Flames engulfing the building on all sides, swallowing it up until it sat a collapsed, ashen mess. There was no structure. No semblance to any kind of store that was inside. Just dust. Blackened walls. Melted floor tiles.
Eddie sat on the edge of the couch cushion, left hand tucked harshly under his thigh, chomping down on his right hand’s fingernails. There was a metallic tang on his tongue, but he couldn’t get himself to stop. Not even when the raw, exposed parts of his skin bared themself as a tender ache in his mouth’s warmth. Nothing could stop him. In between bites, there were moments where he was holding his breath. Gasping for it when push eventually came to shove. At least it was air he was choking on, not bile.
His uncle was stoic in his recliner in the corner. Until, with the quietest and gruffest voice Eddie’s ever heard, Wayne said, “Your boy. He’s in the parking lot. Has to be.”
“What if he isn’t?” Eddie barely mustered. “What if—What if he’s not there in the parking lot with all those ambulances? What if Steve’s stuck in the debris and he can’t get out and nobody can hear him and then he doesn’t come home and I never—“ He was back to choking on his breath. Sipping at the smallest pockets of air he could manage.
Wayne didn’t answer. The promises that could be made in this moment, every single one of them could be a fallacy.
Then, the news reporter read out those who suffered in the fire. That crisped with the building. Ones that couldn’t be recovered. Ones that were found, yet only identifiable by the licenses in their pockets.
Jenna Kinling
Parker Smith
Tony Roberts
Billy Hargrove…
Eddie bit his fingers harder at that last name. Maybe they didn’t run in the same circles or maybe they weren’t friends. But Billy was still a young dude. He had a life ahead of him. They had classes together. What if…What if…What if, rings loudly in Eddie’s head.
Except, Steve isn’t listed. Neither is his new friend, Robin. They aren’t…They weren’t found in the rubble. They weren’t believed to be in it either. And, as if on cue, the trailer’s phone begins to ring. Eddie is up and out of his seat before he has a chance to miss a single ring.
“Munson residence, Eddie speaking,” he answers hastily.
On the other end is the wet, nasally, raspy breathing of another person. The deeper the breaths, the more he can make out it’s somebody masculine. Their intakes are interrupted by small sniffles. Short bursting whimpers that come from sure pain, not pleasure.
“Hello?” Eddie speaks quietly.
The person gasps. Sobbing around the words, “Eddie…Eddie, I need help.” Steve.
“I’ll help, sweetheart,” he promises immediately. “What do you need? I—Uncle Wayne is here, too. We can help. We can—“
“‘M at the mall. And it’s all charred and…and gone. And I think I—I left your birthday present in Scoops and I’m sorry that I—My head hurts, Eds. It hurts and I’m bleeding and the paramed—they think…Billy’s dead and I watched him die and it scared me and—I don’t like him, I don’t like him at all but he looked sad and he looked…He’s dead, Eddie. I watched somebody die, Eddie,” Steve rambles. His words are heavily slurred. Barely breaking by his breath. Almost swirled by puke.
Before Eddie has the chance to interrupt, Steve is continuing. “I protected Robin from getting hurt,” he says seriously, gravely. But his next words are tiny, as if Eddie was listening to a child, not his eighteen year old boyfriend. “You’re going to be mad at me.”
“Why?” He asks. Shakes his head though, and asks instead, “Where should I pick you up? Does Robin have a ride home?”
“I got beat up again,” Steve barrels on. “’T’s really bad, Eds. Everything is ringing. Makin’ me nauseous.” His breaths grow heavier as if he’s ready to retch on his sneakers.
Eddie prepares himself to hear it all, because he knows it’ll happen. Knows it like the back of his hand, unfortunately. From how many other times Steve’s been concussed. Yet, he doesn’t care, saying, “I’ll take care of you here at home, but I need you to tell me where I need to pick you up. Does Robin need a ride?”
Steve mumbles, “She already left. Hugged her and everythin’. Rob—Robin’s safe. I protected her from getting hurt. They were going to hurt her, Eds. It would’ve been my fault for getting her involved.”
The words crawl under Eddie’s skin like spiders. He wants to scratch at himself, get them out of his head. Get away from how small each word is that comes from Steve’s mouth. He wants to find out who ‘They’ are and kill them. Wants to rip this world apart for making Steve sound so…horrified. But he just calmly asks, “Where are you, Steve? Where at the mall are you?”
“Front,” Steve mutters, “at the payphone. The one with all the gum on the back. It’s gross, Eds. I feel gross. Smell like—I’m sorry.”
Eddie just swallows harshly. Doesn’t know why Steve’s apologizing. But he’s scared shitless, that’s for sure. He grabs for his car keys on the dining table. “I’m going to hang up, Stevie. I’ll be there soon, okay?”
The last thing he hears is Steve coughing and retching up his lungs. Spiders work their way into his veins.
———
Sure enough, Steve’s by the payphone. Sitting with his knees up to his chest. Leaning against the thin pole of the phone. Inches away from whatever lunch he had last. Doesn’t look like much. Eddie just thought Steve was busy with work and relaxing at home. Though…Eddie’s starting to piece together that maybe Steve never left work. Like he’s been here way too long.
Steve shivers where he grasps to himself and Eddie approaches with great caution.
He crouches down to Steve’s level, keeps his hands to himself, and speaks softly. “Steve, it’s Eddie. I brought you a jacket. And some water. I’ve got crackers. You ready to go home?”
With his one good eye, Steve looks to him. Blood caked around his nose and mouth and chin. Eyebrow split, though covered with a butterfly bandage. His left eye is swollen shut and a deep, concerning purple. A part of Eddie almost wants to ask who left Steve here like this. To sit by himself and hold to his elbows. But, a stronger part of him cares too much about making sure Steve gets home.
Slowly, Steve reaches out his right hand and grasps at Eddie’s left wrist. Thumb harsh over his pulse point. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. Without any fanfare or warning, Steve’s eyes fill with tears. Streaming down his face in sluggish lines. “I was stupid and got in trouble again and now I’m all…I’m all broken and ugly and I smell really bad and you’re gonna have to stay awake with me because I’m not allowed to sleep and I—“
“Baby,” Eddie whispers lowly, “Steve, I’m just glad that you’re alive. I’d rather look after you all beaten up and bloody than…Well, y’know.”
“Why aren’t you mad at me?” Steve meekly asks.
“Do you want me to be mad at you?”
With great force, Steve shakes his head. Hissing and hiccuping at the pain that surges through him. “It hurts so bad,” he whimpers. “I just—They were going to hurt Robin and—and the kids. I couldn’t let them do that and now I—“
Eddie gently shushes him. “You don’t need to explain yourself right now, okay, sweetheart? We’ll talk about it when you’re better.”
“What if I never talk about it?”
He shrugs. Wraps his free hand over Steve’s where it still grips him. “Then you don’t talk about it,” he whispers. “Let me take you home, though? Give you the food and water I brought. Warm you up and change your clothes. Can clean your face,” Eddie lists. He cups the injured side of Steve’s face with a tentative hand, barely touching his swollen skin. “Clean this all up and brush your hair. Let you sleep.”
“I can’t sleep for long,” Steve reminds him.
“Wake you up every few hours, that’s fine. I don’t have school tomorrow, we’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“‘M’kay,” Steve agrees quietly. He’s drooping in Eddie’s hold. Exhaustion quickly swamping him. “Sorry if I throw up in the car.”
Eddie gently hefts them up off the ground, leads them towards the van, and gets Steve situated in his passenger seat. He murmurs, as he buckles Steve in, “I can clean up. But I’ll leave the window rolled down. I’ll drive slow. Do you want the jacket?”
Steve shakes his head softly. His eyes are closed and the rest of him is very still to his seat. As if moving anything physically pains him. It probably does, based on what Eddie’s able to see. “I don’t want to be reminded of the heat,” he state quietly.
“Okay,” Eddie whispers. He leans up into Steve’s space, presses a short kiss to his temple, and cranks the passenger window down. “Just lean towards the window a little. Rest. I’ve got you, baby.”
The car ride is incredibly slow, it makes Eddie antsy. But out of the corner of his eye, he notices Steve tensing at every gradual rumble and deep pothole. It makes Eddie want to just get out and push the van. He slides a hand off of the steering wheel and goes to grab Steve’s left wrist, but he jolts away. Head colliding solidly with the window frame.
“Don’t,” Steve bites. “Don’t touch me there,” he whispers.
Eddie swallows down the sudden rise of bile in his throat. “Okay, Steve,” he murmurs right back. “Do you…you need me to pull off for a second? Give you a break from the bumpy road?” Steve gives a slow and tentative nod.
He pulls to the shoulder, parks in silence, and just sits in the driver’s seat. Face forward, eyeing beyond the windshield. He’d turn on the radio, try to fill the gap between their bodies, but knows that the noise would be too much. Instead, he listens in on Steve’s audible deep breaths. Like he’s trying to ground himself to the carseat or maybe veer away from puking out the window. Eddie wants to touch and soothe, like he normally would during Steve’s concussions. But…he can’t. There are tears percolating in the corners of his eyes.
“You need water?” Eddie quietly asks.
“Please,” Steve mutters lowly. His voice is crackling and snotty wet.
Eddie moves slowly between the front seats, grabs an unopened bottle of water, and uncaps it. He leans across the center console to find a straw in the glove box. Plops it in the bottle and offers it up for Steve to take. “Slow sips,” Eddie states, “don’t need to make yourself sicker.” Steve angles his body away from the window, leans forward slightly, and takes the straw between his lips. Each swallow of water looks like he’s trying to consume rocks. His tongue working slowly, hesitantly against the straw. Testing it. “You’re doing a good job,” Eddie can only praise.
When Steve pops off the straw, it’s with a gasping breath. Catching and falling and catching again. He lolls his head on the seat, looking over to Eddie. Chest moving up and down with shallow, croaking shakes of air. “We can go,” he rasps, “I wanna sleep.”
The water bottle goes to the cup holders. And Eddie does what he’s told. Crawling slowly back home. Taking small pauses to check in with Steve, help him drink water, nibble on some crackers, rub his back when he hurls out the car window.
But when they make it back home, they move in complete and utter silence. Through the front door and to the couch. Wayne ogles the two of them, fear present in his eyes. His mouth hangs open, suckled dry of all words he could ever think to say. Eddie makes him grab a bowl of warm water and a rag.
And they just exist in silence.
In fear, Eddie now realizes, of whatever happened to Steve.
Because they’re not stupid. This wasn’t a fire. There was something else. Something more…disastrous. Dastardly. But Eddie places the bowl on the coffee table, sits on Steve’s right on the cushions, and turns them towards each other.
“Alright, I’ve gotta clean the blood off of your face, Stevie,” he encroaches their silence. “I’m going to be really careful. I’ll go slow. But I need you to tell me when you need a break, okay?” Steve blinks groggily at him. His eyes are dilated beyond belief. Eddie’s nauseous just looking at them. These aren’t the eyes he fell in love with.
These eyes are like terror in existential form.
Steve nods, though. He places a shaking hand on Eddie’s left knee. Doesn’t tighten it, doesn’t pet the fabric under his hand, just rests it there. As if he’s searching for an anchor.
Eddie wets the wash rag with the warm water. Raises it to Steve’s chin. “If this hurts, you need to tell me. Here we go.” The rag stains pink and crimson as soon as it touches Steve’s skin. He hates how hard he has to press just to work the blood off, but it’s dried to him. It’s coming off in flakes, Eddie sees the particles fall to Steve’s dirtied uniform. As he works the rag over Steve’s face, he can’t help but notice how stained and red the uniform is, too.
It used to be something Eddie could tease Steve about. Be flirtatious and saucy about it. Talk about stupid things with. Make dumb fantasies and see if Steve will play into them. But looking at it now only makes Eddie’s chest hurt. Makes his stomach turn uneasily. Shrivels something inside of him that will never live again. But he’ll get Steve into his clothes. Get him comfortable. Maybe he’ll burn the uniform when Steve isn’t looking. Rid of it like a demon needing to be expelled.
The last bit of the blood finally comes away, flaking from Steve’s nostrils to the washcloth. Eddie places it back in the pink tinted water. And then he looks back. At Steve’s child like eyes. And his split lip. The plum like bruise around his left eye.
Eddie’s never had homicidal thoughts, but today might just be the eye opener for him.
But he continues to be gentle. Offering, “Let’s get you some of my clothes. I’ll wash your hair in the bathroom sink. Then, you can rest.” Steve just nods, allows Eddie to pull him along to the bedroom, and change him out of his clothes. Ignores the slight bruising on his ribs, where he most likely struggled or fell. Tries to not think about the red, twisting lines across Steve’s chest, arms, and wrists from where he’d been tied. Just covers Steve back up in reds and blacks and soft things. And, while Steve is looking away, throws the Scoops uniform away in a nearby waste basket.
Washing his hair is no struggle. Steve goes listless and quiet when Eddie scrubs at his scalp, carefully detangles knots that were glued together by sticky blood. He barely blinks as he watches Eddie move and go through his hair washing routine. Doesn’t protest any of what Eddie chooses to do—even when he puts too much conditioner in the ends of his hair or doesn’t do two wash throughs with the shampoo, even if he uses a hair dryer instead of a towel. Allows him, which Eddie finds a little odd. He has an inkling, though, that it may just be the gentle touch that Steve doesn’t want to mitigate.
When they’re back in bed, Eddie lays flat on the mattress. Putting space between their two bodies. His alarm is set for three hours from now, where he’ll wake Steve up and make sure his concussion symptoms either are stagnant or lessening. But for now, he just stays put. Eyes up at his ceiling, stomach turning and knotting at whatever happened today.
Whatever happened almost doesn’t matter, knowing Steve made it out alive.
But there’s a haunting to him that Eddie can’t ignore.
Right when he thinks Steve is asleep and goes to close his own eyes, does he hear the smallest of statements.
“Hopper died, too,” Steve murmurs.
“No…”
Steve nods sagely against his pillow. “Heard about it through some of the kids I babysit. Guess he…Guess I wasn’t the only one to make a sacrifice.” Eddie hears him shift, coming closer. His body warmth radiating and tight against his rigid body. There’s a hesitant palm that slithers and sits on Eddie’s chest. Where his heart beats rabidly. “Could…Could’a been me.”
Eddie places his own hand over the back of Steve’s. Presses them together firmly. His chest caving with the push. “Don’t say that,” he harshly whispers. “Don’t…Steve, I thought it was going to be you. Please don’t say that.”
“Sorry,” he mutters. “I just…That’s the only thing I could think of before you got me. How I—I almost didn’t get to see you again.”
“At least you’re with me now, right? I’m just glad that you’re alive.”
“Yeah,” Steve croaks. “I just wish I could bring myself to tell you what happened.”
“Don’t need to do that, Steve. Just rest up and get better for me, alright?”
Steve shuffles closer. His head resting on Eddie’s shoulder. He nods. “Thank you. I love you,” he sleepily murmurs.
Eddie wraps an arm around his back and squeezes him tightly. “I love you, too, love bug. Get some sleep and I’ll check on you in a bit.”
The snores are a comfort after tonight.
———
And when he looks Steve in the eyes, mere seconds before he leaves for Vecna, Eddie understands the harrowing sacrificial fear. He’ll be the one to protect Steve now. “Make him pay,” he says. But he knows, reflected in Steve’s eyes, that there is finality in his stare. His stomach turns and his hands shake, but damnit, he’ll make sure that Steve won’t be the one drowning in blood this time.
He hopes to hear snores against his shoulder tomorrow night.
If night comes.
💕—————💕
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Buffy the Vampire Slayer Fanfic Rec
Guys I have so much useless fanfic knowledge -- one of my friends asked me for a list of Buffy fics and this happened.
Non-Buffy Centric, One-Shot Fics
Potential Friend by srmcd1 - a cute little ficlet that looks at what might have happened if Jesse lived.
Age Difference by Amina - for all the Oz fans out there! A time-travelling Oz gives Buffy a new perspective on life and relationships. Slightly Angel-bashing.
All that I wanted was just to be haunted by you by chasingfictions - After the events of "The Body," Jenny's ghost bullies Giles into moving in with the Summers girls. This one made me BAWL.
Appropriate conduct by The_Eclectic_Bookworm - an increasingly angry series of memos between Principal Synder & Jenny, Giles, and the other teachers of Sunnydale High. Absolutely hilarious.
i belong to time, you belong to me by chasingfictions - Dru knows when she meets Spike, that he will fall in love with a slayer. She forgets, until she doesn't. Beautiful, poetic, and very Dru.
One Girl in All the World by zedpm - a trans!Buffy AU, where she was born in a boy's body and is still the slayer. A beautifully done AU, with Oz and (surprisingly! Riley) as particular standouts. Minor Spike/Buffy.
The Holy Grail of Buffy Fics: Long, With a Focus on an Ensemble Cast. Absolute Masterpieces.
hit rewind by untiljanuary - Hands down, the best Buffy fic I've ever read. Buffy (from some time in season 6, but unclear when), is sent back in time to season 3. What makes it so interesting is that it's from everyone else's perspective! The author writes Cordelia, Willow, Faith, Angel and Spike in particular so well. Lots of interesting character work, though the plot hasn't deviated too much from canon so far.
Ships: Buffy/Spike, Angel/Cordelia, Willow/Tara, Anya/Xander. The Buffy/Angel ends on mutual terms.
two roads diverged (and that has made all the difference) by RoseyPoseyPie - a Buffy season 5/Angel season 2 crossover. Hoping to escape Glory, the Scoobies end up in Pylea with the Fang Gang. This fic is absolutely hilarious (the scene where everyone gets high and drunk together is a notable standout). The author writes Anya, Lorne and Cordelia in particular super well. Dawn and Angel's dynamic is also amazing.
Ships: Buffy/Spike, Angel/Cordelia, Anya/Xander, Willow/Tara.
don't know how to stick around, but I wanna by chasingfictions - a series in an alternate universe where Faith, instead of going to prison, joins Angel Investigations. Very Fang Gang centric, but really builds up their family bond. Darla, Faith, and Wesley were stand outs to me in this.
Ships: eventual Faith/Buffy, and minor canon pairings. Faith briefly pursues other girls, including Darla.
Best Spuffy Centric Fic
wouldn't it be nice? by SummerFrost - an alternative universe, where the will-be-done spell in season 4 goes a little differently, and Spike and Buffy start a slow crawl towards friendship that becomes... something. So soft and sweet. Has two sequels, and the season 6 one in particular is WONDERFUL.
Every Letter That You Write Me by othellia - the obligatory fandom soulmate AU. Young Buffy is absolutely adorable in this one, and Spike and Buffy's relationship is bittersweet, raw, and believable.
Choices by lafillesauvage - An AU. After Season 5 of Angel, Spike becomes human. Angel does not. Buffy still chooses Angel, and these are the consequences. Slightly excessive Angel bashing, but the characterization of Buffy and Spike, and little notes like Buffy's relationship with Giles being slowly fixed and Willow getting a non-Kennedy girlfriend are great! Buffy/Angel with a happy Spike/Buffy ending.
The Darkling by OffYourBird - the iconic time travel Spuffy fic. Buffy goes back in time and meets Spike... in the 1970s. His slow path to redemption starts differently, with tons of interesting changes in the timeline. Be warned, this one is LONG and smutty. Shout out for making me believe Giles/Anya could work as a couple!
Inside Man by HollyDB - An Angel season 5 fic. Spike calls Buffy. This shows all the things that change when Buffy has a spy on the inside of the Fang Gang. Follows canon up until the last episode, but provides fun context.
Short, Cute Cangel Fics
give them all that they can drink by eagle_eyes. The one where Cordelia is ace. Amazingly written, and the Cangel relationship is so soft and believable.
Another Chance by NikitaDreams - After the events of Angel: the Series, Cordelia travels back in time. Focus on Cangel and Connor. Lots of cute family dynamics.
Halloween Happily Ever After by GeckoGirl89 - cute, mutual pining between Angel and Cordelia in season 3. Angst with a happy ending. Really highlights how oblivious Cangel were to each other's feelings.
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