Mutual Fascination

They're adorable seriously they're so cute. I love how you described Eddie and his mimics. Your writing is so good...

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

Hello hello! I really loved your hc of unconventional things the boys of class 1A find hot and I was wondering if you could do Kiri and Tokoyami as well? They're so adorable :)

UNCONVENTIONAL THINGS CLASS 1A BOYS FIND HOT AS HELL

CLASS 1A BOYS X F!READER

masterlist

comfort, nsfw

a/n: i gave u an extra two bc im nice like that, pls enjoy! reblogs appreciated!!

part 1 part 2 part 3

KIRISHIMA

• i’d have to say side boob

• he likes that little bit of fat the pokes out between ur armpit and ur chest

•u guys know what i mean right?

• this

•he likes it

• also likes the shoulder fat that pokes outta ur bra

• he thinks u look like a greek goddess with it (cute)

• if he’s laying on ur chest (which he does a lot) (loves ur titties) he’ll stare at the little fat deposit lovingly.

•gives it a little pinch, and when u complain or say it’s embarrassing he’ll softly say “no babe, i like it. it’s cute”

• if u ever complain about a top making the fat of ur shoulders spill out, hes right behind you, kissing ur neck and telling you you look beautiful in this top, please don’t take it off. (or do but not bc it doesn’t look good.)

• loves boobs, end of. if theyre YOUR boobs?????????? you think he’s gonna b bitchin cuz there’s a little bit of fat???? that’s what boobs are!!!!!

•but no, loves all up on ur titties everytime u fuck, expect biting and nipple sucking

• just loves you so much, loves your body so much

• if a man put a gun to his head and asked him to make a flaw on u he would say “tell Y/N i love her” (his own words)

• but yes! kirishima is my boyfriend and we are getting married !

TOKOYAMI

•hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

• big noses

•mans loves a big nose

• i also think looking like a bird is a humbling experience for a man so he’s just generally less critical of women (feminist bird)

• but he does find himself more attracted to people with big noses generally

• when u say ur insecure about it, he is puzzled

• “why????? it’s strong and majestic”

•(that’s enough poetry for you although i appreciate the sentiment)

• boops it with his finger sometimes

•yeahhhhhhh

SERO

• man this dude likes asses of all shapes and sizes

• is not picky what so ever

• believes that when one says one is an ass man, that should pertain to all caboose!!!! if one picks and chooses the asses they like and don’t, one is not an ass man!!!

• let’s say u have a flat ass (like me shout out to all my tall girls with no ass) and ur like

“ugh don’t walk behind me Hanta it’s embarrassing”

• he is like ????????? but i was going to respectfully stare at your ass??? (doesn’t say it out loud but thinks it)

• “my ass is too flat i don’t want u looking at it”

• 😋😋😋 goes to 😱😱😱 real quick

• “what do you mean Y/N???????? why wouldn’t i want to see it??????”

• ur like “i just said Hanta! i don’t like it so i don’t want u looking at it!”

• hmm. maybe he won’t look at it right then but next time u guys fuck it’s in doggy and he’s spanking the fuck outta u, squeezing and smoothing the flesh

• he loves your ass, loves it loves it loves it

• he’s fully aware that it’s not like, kim k or anything

• doesn’t care one bit, thinks it’s adorable while simultaneously hot and turns him on

• makes the extra effort after that to give it some love

• if he wants to initiate something nowadays, all he’ll do is come up behind you and whisper in your ear, grinding his clothed cock on the fat of your ass, making you whimper

• if you’re on top of him, he’s grabbing your cheeks and rubbing them soothingly while you make yourself cum on his fat dick

•n e ways, sero loves ur ass, and soon enough, he’s gonna make you love it too

SHINSOU

• he likes women with deep voices

• his voice is pretty deep, so he might feel weird having an s/o that sounds really young in comparison, he just feels a little icky about it

• so when u have deep voice, he goes nuts

• thinks it’s so sultry and sexy and cool

• if u ever complain like “ugh i sound like a teenage boy” or “i sound so manly”

• he’ll be like “babe u sound like a hot girl, don’t sweat it”

• nothing makes him wilder than your moans, omg ur moans

• like i said, he thinks ur voice is so sultry and sexy, just makes him speed up whatever he’s doing to hear more

• on one hand, hitoshi would find it so hot to be told what to do in a voice like yours, but on the other, i think it would also drive him crazy to know that someone with such a strong voice is whimpering now, entirely at his mercy, i think it could go both ways

• really depends on ur preferences

• hitoshi my insomniac beloved ❤️

thanks for reading!!! lmk if u wanna continue this series with other characters/shows, i really do like doing these. reblogs appreciated, bye love you bye!!!

*opens word doc covered in blood* it doesn’t have to be good. it just has to be done.

Im finally on summer break between quarters so im celebrating by drawing those stranger gays

Yes, some writers put "request open" either where in the Title (where they usually put their name) or in the description or where they have their masterlist<3

Thank you for your help lmao I'm not the brightest. It's really nice of you !

Fuck him

Ethan Landry x GN!Reader

Masterlist if you want to read my other things.

TW/CW: murder, breaking in, voyeurism, sexual activity(it don't go far), no p in v(they're not even naked).

it's good i guess. i feel like the end is weird though. (18/07/2023) (3614 words)

Ethan sighs deeply, already feeling the frustration tears drowning his eyes. Even though his vision was blurry, he could still see your shape, of course he could, you're the only thing he could ever see. His hand was closed thight on the handle of his knife. He couldn't believe you, and at the same, he couldn't blame you as you could never do harm, not to him.

He knew your relationship was hard to maintain, but did you really have to cheat on him ? Yes, you did not talk much together, ok you did not spend time on a date in a long time but it was hard, he was busy and you were always with your friends.

The last date you had only together was something like three month ago, it was a study date. You weren't in a good mood, either. You wanted to be in your friends group but they already formed duo and as the group is uneven, you ended up with him. You weren't too happy and he knew it, so he did what he could to help you. You spent the afternoon in the library. He was so happy that day, quite the opposite of right now.

He was biting the inside of his cheek to contain any insults to come out. As much as he liked seeing you like this, he hated the situation in itself.

Ethan was fucking pissed. Hidden in your closet, his dark eyes were watching each one of your movements. Usually, the smell of your fresh and clean clothes beside him would have calmed him to a state of sleepiness. But not today.

You brought someone over.

One of his friends by that. Well, not that much of a friend. Ethan doesn't really have any, his only goal is to avenge his brother after all. None of his relationship here are true.

Expect yours. The one you and him have. It's something indescribable. A link that goes upon everything, every law and physics. He understands you better than anyone else. You understand him better than everyone else.

Each breath you take is a benediction for Ethan who's the happiest man alive thanks to your existence. It was an addiction, really. Something so hard to forget, to ignore. Ethan was deeply in love. And he's sure you are, too.

You have these eyes that tell him everything he needs to know.

But well, you weren't ready for the officialisation and the whole relationship thing. And he understands that. He truly does. As even himself had trouble accepting his love. Your link is so strong, so powerful that you can be scared of it. Of the love you have for each other. He'd die for you, he'd kill for you.

He'd do anything.

Hence why he was hidden in your closet in his ghostface suit. Because he wanted to protect you. To make you feel safe. Each time he was hiding under your bed, he heard you confess to your friends about how you have trouble sleeping, that you feel watched. And Ethan hates the idea of someone bothering you. And in the blink of an eye, he was already armed and ready to protect you.

And he's sure you feel better ! That is if he doesn't mention the time you put a blanket on the said closet because you were feeling paranoid. Ethan was worried this day, he couldn't see you anymore through the slits.

Ethan watches as the man above you on the bed pull up your shirt to let you appear bare before him. He watches as you kiss him hungrily, your hands caressing every curve of his body and Ethan wants to fucking destroy everything.

Your one night stand's hands are flat on your chest, caressing it with a barely concealed horniness. You already want more, and he seems to think like you.

Your hands goes under his shirt, touching every inch of skin you could. Your nails grazing the area from time to time and he likes it, hard, by the smile he's giving you.

You were going to pull his clothe up above his head when his phone ring. He turns his head a brief moment before you grab his jaw with your hand to make him look at you again.

"Ignore it." you say between two heated breath.

And he did just that. After all, he was as horny as you. He'd never stop anything for a stupid phone call. His tongue lick at yours, his hands pass on your perked nipple. But the phone ring again. The song was louder than your breathy moans, you were starting to get out of the mood. And the phone ring again, again and again. Until your one night stand curse and get off you. He's as frustated as you.

"Fuck, who the hell is that? he says.

The man moves away, grabbing his phone to see who was the person who ruined the mood. You sigh, a little disappointed the moment had been cut short. Finding your room's temperature way too cold in comparison to his warm body.

You're left laying on the bed, staring at the ceiling and regaining your breath.

You don't have that much success with men. The times you fucked can by coumpted with one hand. So yeah, you were pissed to be bothered by a stupid phone call.

You were frustrated. You needed to fuck. This guy wasn't even your friend. He was nice enough and pretty so you went for it. But you didn't feel bad as he was probably thinking the same of you.

-So ? You ask impatiently.

-It's just Ethan. I'll put the phone in mute.

-Who's Ethan ?

-Landry ? One of my friends. He's in our math class ? Anyway, he's a friend."

By your face, he understands that you have no idea who this Ethan Landry may be. And that you don't care. This Ethan was just the fucker who disturbed you, he could go to hell for that matter. He shrugs, smiling when he can now get back to business. His hand roams your hips then go up to caress your tummy. Your hand goes on his shoulder and you pull him to you to kiss him.

The call was already forgotten. The temperature heated up.

His shirt is quickly out of the way, same for his pants and yours. His clothed erection rub against your genitals, you're burning from the inside. You thrust your hips against his and he smiles.

Your hand grab a handful of his hair and pull on it, the man smiles, his mouth leaving yours to start and suck on your neck. The boner in his underwear rub against your underwear. His last piece of clothes was hot and wet. At this point, it felt like he was naked. You could feel every veins and curve of it against you.

Finally, you thought, you're finally getting some dick. You just hope he's good.

Ethan saw fucking red. His hands were shaky. His whole body crumble with rage. His thoughts are full of one thing: fucking destroy him.

He had the audacity to take his lover from him, he had the audacity to fuck them before him, he had the audacity to fucking ignore him ?

No, no that's not possible. No, of course no. Ethan is a man of words. He swore he wouldn't let you slip between his fingers and he fucking won't. Tears fall from his eyes, from anger ? Sadness ? Frustration ? He doesn't know. But he starts laughing.

You both stop moving. The man turn around and stare at the closet before looking at you again, as if to make sure you heard that too.

Everything happened well too quickly for you to understand. You blinked and a man rushed out of the closet, knife in hand. Clothed in a Ghostface outfit. You screamed and tried to back off him, but with a wall behind you, you couldn't go really far.

Ghostface jumps on the bed, knife in the air, and suddenly, he plunges the blade in your fling's body. Blood splatter everywhere. Tears are running down your face and you can't control yourself.

You try to leave and fall off the bed before crawling on the ground to the door. You were still facing him as to be sure he wasn't coming to you. But it didn't seem he was interested by you.

It was as if he didn't even saw you.

Ghostface plunges his knife once, twice, and a lot more time in the already lifeless body with an uncontrollable rage. His hits were fast and angry, he was taking everything out on him. Hitting everywhere he could.

Crying, you try to get up, you fall the first time because of your shaking legs but you're standing seconds later. As silently as possible, you leave the room. You grab your phone and try to open the door but cry harder when it's locked. Your roomate locked it when they left.

Where is the key ? Where is the fucking key ? You don't want to die. You don't want to die ! In your panick, you drop your phone. But in a rush, you don't bother picking it up again.

By the time you found it, Ghostface was done with his prey. He was waiting for you before the door, head tilted. Blood was dripping from his knife and the white color of his mask was almost non existent.

You shake your head, crying your eyes out. The keys tightly held in your hands. You're dead. You're dead and you don't even know what you did to deserve that.

He stays before the door, no budging. He knows this door is your last hope and he's crushing it before your eyes. You try to think of another exit but there is none. You're at the fifth floor, if you jump, you're dead. But maybe it's better than to be killed because you know for sure: Ghostface is going to kill you.

"Please, you beg, I didn't do anything. you shake your head, body trembling like a leaf.

-I know." he says.

It wasn't even a real voice. You'll never know who is your killer. Your heart was probably going to explode at this rate. You couldn't breath, eyes boring into his hands, makig sure he wasn't moving. You were choking on your own saliva, crying each time his head moved a little.

When he takes a step, you squeal and back off, begging and crying, your words were slurred together, you couldn't even understand yourself what you were saying. You don't want to die, not like this. Your vision is blurry by your tears, all you see of him is a black spot with a white point. He's approaching.

"Don't cry, my love. I'm here." he says.

You frown and look at his mask in search of an answer. You couldn't see his facial expression and it was killing you. Who is this ? What do they want ? Why do they act as if they know you? You're scared, you're going to throw up.

"Please, let me live. you beg, one last time.

-I will, love. I will."

When he arrives before you, you close your eyes tightly. Praying this would be quick. But instead of slaughtering you like he did to the other, he puts his arms around you, holding you close to him. He shush you slowly, like you're a clid.

You're tensed, you stopped breathing and you're completly paralyzed. Every one of your muscle is put in pause. You don't dare look at his face, instead, you keep your eyes to the robe.

"Calm down, he says, you're okay. It's just me."

He was calm and you couldn't understand a thing. Who is 'me' ? Why doesn't he kill you when he already killed someone ? Why is he even hugging you ? What's happening ? You need to get out of here. Right, now.

"You're safe with me. Nothing will happen to you." you know his mask, his words, will haunt you until your death.

And when he lets you go, he gives you your phone back. He puts his hand on your head, touching your hair slowly before leaving by the front door.

Your eyes bore holes in the door, terrified at the idea of him coming back. You fall on the ground and vomit everything you could. Bawling your eyes out, you remember the dead man in your bed and call the cops with a shaky hands.

You don't remember much after that. Just that at some point, cops came and escorted you outside. You were alone on the parking building when you saw stretcher-bearer bring the dead body of the poor man in their car.

You stare at your hands, they're shaking and you want to throw up again just thinking about everything. The criminal fled, he killed him and he fled. You burst out in tears again, closing your eyes. A nurse comes talk to you but you can't hear anything. They're guiding you, you just follow.

You're empty. You can't think of aything else than the dead man. He's dead and you're not, why ? That's unfair. You're the one who invited him over. You should have died.

When you recognize a little more your surrondings, you're seated on the edge of the ambulance car with a coat on the shoulder, and now, you wear a pant. Hugging yourself. You don't even know how you got here, nor when. But you don't care. He's dead. He died. What the fuck. He got killed. Someone killed him. Someone was in your fucking closet in the first place. Was it even the first time ?

You know cops will ask you questions and you have no idea what you're supposed to tell them. That the man you were going to fuck had been killed by a ghostface hidden in your damn closet ? Yeah, you'll be put in jail before the end of your story. Your face is so dry, your body is numb. You can't feel anything other than guilt.

Ghostface disappeared, there is no proof of him having been there. From everyone's point of view, you two were alone and you killed him.

He's dead. The only man you ever talked to in months, dies after minutes in your flat. You're cursed. Did you really kill him ? No, no you didn't. You couldn't have known a killer was at home. It's not your fault. It's not your fault, it's not your fault.

Someone walks towards you. You know it's the cops. It's the end. It's the moment where you're wrongfully accused. Your eyes were glued to the ground and shoes enter your field of view. It do not look like cop's legs.

Well, if it is, he's not in service. Because that's a jean you're seeing right now. You follow the member further up to the face. You frown. That's definitely not a cop.

He smiles at you. He's young, maybe your age. He has curly hair and a boyish face. Who is that ?

"Hey, he says. You okay?

Your eyes are red and glossy. You're covered in blood and it's not even yours. You look like you saw a ghost and somehow, you did.

Do you look okay ? Is that really a fucking question ? Because you just witnessed a murder and you almost died yourself. So no, you're not fucking okay.

-Yeah, right. Sorry." He says.

He's not a nurse and he's not a cop. But he's not your friend or family either. Who is he ?

-My name's Ethan. I was a friend of... And it clicks. He's the one who called: Ethan Landry, from your math class.

-Yeah, I know."

Ethan sits next to you on the edge of the car. He smiles lightly. You ask yourself what is he doing here then decide to ignore it. He lost a friend. He raises his hand towards you, searching your eye for peermission to touch you and you shrug. He caresse gently your back to rassure you, to soothe you.

You don't know him but he's nice and you need someone. Everyone is running back and forth, ignoring you. You witnessed a damn murder and nobody bother to stay with you.

You two stayed like this a really long time. At least, in your mind it was long. Ethan tried to approach you more, moving his body. Then, he pulled your head to force you to lay it on his shoulder. But you didn't want to.

So you got up and moved away from him. When you faced him, his eyes were empty. You couldn't see any emotion. No sadness, no fear, no hapiness, no anger, just a void. It made a chill run down your spine.

Fortunaly, two cops arrived. One of them smiled at you, you didn't feel any compassion but he at least had the decency to try unlike the other who simply left without a word. The man tells you to sit down and you do, far from Ethan. Then, when you thought he'd talk to you, he turned to your new 'friend'.

"Ethan, right ? You told my colleague you were their boyfriend?

What ? You look at your said boyfriend and frown? Why would he say that ?

-Yes, I am. And I was a good friend of... He sighs but something in you tells you it's fake. I can't believe he's...

Something isn't right.

-Since the witness, your partner, is in shock and can't talk, we'd like you to share your contact details as we have to convoke you later for your deposition.

Why can't I talk ? Why is Ethan looking at me ? His eyes seems loving at first glance but when you really look into them, there is a sense of threat that reside. He's talking to you without words. He tells you to keep it shut.

-Of course, no problem. he stays silent while grabbing his phone, then lift his eyes and stare at the cops face. Just so you know, they didn't do anything.

-We'll see about that. Says the cop to conclude the interaction.

-Yeah, we'll see." Says 'Ethan' with a clenched jaw.

When the cops leave, you're left alone with him once again. Your hearing is muffled. In the background, a faint siren noise. Blurry stains of red and blue is all you see. The man puts his hand on your thight and you cringe. You try to get away from him, from this stranger.

Frustrated, hot tears start flowing down your face. You don't even cry strictly speaking as you stay silent. You can't feel anything, your body is just reacting to the situation alone. Ethan raises his hand to dry your tears and you back off to avoid him touching you.

Who the hell is this man ? And why is he here ? Telling everyone he's your partner ? Someone is dead for god's sake ! Does he really think it's the best time to joke ?

Other officers arrive towards you. You want to tell them you don't know who that damn man is. You want to scream at them so bad yet you can't. You don't know why but you can't move.

Ethan takes you in his arms. Tightening his hold around you. From the exterior, he looks like a caring boyfriend comforting his partner. But it's not. You don't know him.

Cops don't pay attention to you anymore, simply analyzing the area. You're left alone with him, this 'Ethan'. Is it really his name ? You don't find him as nice as before. Actually, you feel in danger with him. You try to push him but he hold you so thight it hurt.

He lifts you up without a care. You're scared. You don't know who he is nor what he wants, what he'll do. Just like Ghostface.

"Let me go." you cry, with weak and shaky voice as loud as a whisper.

He ignores it. He presses your chest flat against his, shushing you. And you know, you know it's him. You recognize him. You struggle, trying to leave. But he forces, hurting you. You beg, praying someone could come. But even if they did, they'd think you're crazy. Crazy after seeing such a horrible scene. Nobody will believe you.

Your body is shaking, you have trouble breathing and you can't articulate your thoughts. There is so much happening, outside and inside your head.

"Don't cry, my love. I'm here." he says, and you know, you know he said that.

Your tears are flowing freely. You close your eyes, trying to stop them but it's impossible. You're whining, pushing him away with all the sthrenght left in you, which isn't a lot. It's him, it's his fault. He killed him, he's Ghostface. You know it.

"Breath, it's okay.

No it's not. It's the killer, you're stuck with him. He won't ever let you go. He killed him with so much hatred, with so much rage. You're terrified of what he could do to you. He used such a violent manner to do it, too.

You can't even tell how many times this monster stabbed him. It was never ending. He never was satisfied, his fury keeping him from stopping.

You cry, and cry and cry but nobody cares. Maybe it is your fault. Maybe he really got killed because of you. Or maybe you could have helped.

-You're safe with me. Nothing will happen to you."

can you write a fic where we have literally the biggest crush on Gareth Emerson but like we're a cheerleader and don't want all the backlash so we leave the cutest of cute letters in his locker like romance movie pink and sprayed with perfume letters? tysm <3

I don't usually ever write female readers, but I’ll make an exception bc I wanted to write this, it sounded cute. So the reader is female for this, which isn't explicitly stated, but it's heavily implied

Also! This is the first time I’ve ever written for Chrissy so that’s fun :)

Also also, which isn't relevant, but I'm seventeen finally, happy birthday to me :)

—

Word count: 4.3k

Pairing: Gareth Emerson x Female!Reader

Warnings: swearing, violence, blood, mild angst

Request Here

—

The first time you had laid eyes on Gareth Emerson had been during 4th period physics. You could remember it clear as day, despite it not being a monumental moment. He had been drumming two pencils against his desk, his leg bouncing underneath his desk to a song only he could hear.

You dropped your pencil a few moments prior and it had rolled away out of sight. Just as you had given up on trying to take down notes, Gareth turned around to face you and tossed you one of his pencils. He winked at you before twisting back around and leaving you with warm cheeks and the complete inability to focus for the rest of class.

The second time you laid eyes on him was during a night you weren’t supposed to be out. You knew you were in deep trouble when you got home, so you were staying out for as long as possible. That’s when you discovered The Hideout. It was in a part of town you usually never ventured out to, but you didn’t want to go home, so you just walked wherever your feet took you.

And they took you to The Hideout on a crisp Tuesday night.

When you walked inside, you almost walked right back out at the sudden assault of sound grating against your ears. It was loud and obnoxious music, with screaming vocals and shredding guitar solos.

Just as you were about to turn around and walk back outside, you saw him. His hair was damp with sweat and it covered his face. He was grinning, unapologetically happy, as he slammed his drumsticks against the drum set in front of him. His head banged along to the beat, and he mouthed the vocalists’ words along with him.

And you found yourself frozen in place, unable to tear your eyes away from the sight despite everything screaming in you to turn and run home, run to what was familiar and to get back into your comfort zone. But you couldn’t. Because Gareth from Physics was playing the drums with his band in a sleazy place like The Hideout. And he was beautiful. He fit into this atmosphere perfectly and he looked entirely content in his environment.

But then he flipped his hair out of his eyes and made direct eye contact with you. His eyes went wide before he winked, still grinning at you. He spun one of his sticks and tossed it up. He managed to catch it and continue playing, staring straight at you.

You couldn’t take the attention, so you panicked. You broke eye contact and ducked your head down before turning around and pushing the door open, walking back into the cool autumn air.

The third memorable time you had seen Gareth was when he had just finished getting his face pounded in. You weren’t sure what had started the fight this time, but it wasn’t hard to guess that Gareth started it. You knew all about the rumors surrounding him and his inability to just shut up and avoid a beat down.

He looked pitiable on the ground, blood pouring from his nose, his lip and eyebrow busted and also bleeding. He could scarcely stand up. He kept trying though, leaning against a row of lockers, grunting quietly as he tried to get his feet underneath him.

You bit your lip, looking around the hallway, but everyone who had gathered to see the fight had dispersed and went to lunch. Once you were sure the coast was clear, you walked over to him. You stood in front of him and held your hand out. “I’ll help you,” you said.

Gareth peered up at you and smiled a bloody smile. He said nothing and instead grasped your hand, smearing blood against your sweater sleeve. You helped him up onto his feet and put his arm around your shoulders, holding up his weight. You walked him to the nearest bathroom and after peeking inside to ensure it was empty, you pulled him inside. You closed and locked the door as well. You didn’t need anyone to see you helping him out.

You watched as Gareth limped towards the sinks and began to scrub the blood off his knuckles. You grabbed some paper towels and approached him. “Look at me,” you requested.

Gareth shut the water off and obediently turned around to face you. “Gonna patch me up, sunshine?”

Your cheeks burned and you looked away, running water over the paper towels before pressing it to his face. You started at his eyebrow, gently wiping the blood from his forehead and eye. Then you cleaned his bloodied nose, prodding at it gently to make sure nothing was broken. Satisfied, you moved to wipe the blood from his chin.

When you were satisfied that the blood was cleaned up, you tossed the paper towels in the trash before turning back to Gareth. And you weren’t sure what possessed you to do so, but you caught Gareth’s chin in your hand and brushed your thumb against his bottom lip, mindful of the split in it.

Gareth caught your wrist in his hand, warmth emanating from him. “What’s the verdict, doc?” he murmured, lips brushing against your thumb.

You felt as though your entire body was on fire. You cleared your throat and pulled your wrist free, quickly putting space between you two. “You’re fine,” you said, “put ice on your ribs and face. And please don’t tell anyone about this.”

“You ashamed to help the freak?” Gareth asked, looking down at his busted knuckles.

You hesitated. You were, because you knew what his reputation would do to yours. You knew what would happen if people found out about this. “It wouldn’t be good for either of us if people find out,” you settled for saying. “...I’m sorry,” you said before hurrying out of the bathroom.

You didn’t tell anyone about the incident. Not for a while, anyways. Not until Chrissy.

You were best friends. You met her when you joined the cheer squad and the two of you had quickly become close. That’s how you ended up at your house with Chrissy sitting crossed leg on your bed, rifling through her bag.

“Can I show you something?” She asked you a moment prior. Of course you had said yes, Especially when she added, “you can’t tell anyone or make fun of me.”

Chrissy popped back up, holding a pink slip of paper. She handed it over before covering her face with her hands in a picture of embarrassment.

You looked down at the paper in your hands, brows furrowed in confusion. You carefully unfolded it to reveal Chrissy’s looping handwriting. You read the first line and gasped. “You wrote a letter to Eddie Munson?” You hissed. “Chrissy!”

“It’s worse,” she moaned into her hands. “I wrote a love letter to Eddie Munson,” she said miserably, lowering her hands enough to peer over them at you. “I’ve been carrying it around all week.”

You were silent as you folded the paper again, feeling like it would be an invasion of privacy to keep reading. “You like Eddie Munson?” You asked. “Chrissy—”

“I know,” she said quietly. “Everyone would freak out…that’s why I’ve been carrying it around all week. But I really like him, Y/N,” she dropped her hands into her lap and took the letter back. “He’s not like what everyone says, he’s…really sweet.”

Chrissy was the most popular girl in school, and that wasn’t an over exaggeration. Everyone loved her. But she had just broken up with Jason Carver, who was an asshole. “Jason would kill him,” you mumbled.

“I know,” Chrissy bemoaned. “I know he would, even though it’s none of his business.”

“It’s not,” you agreed. “...can I tell you something too?” You asked carefully.

Chrissy looked up at you and nodded quickly. “Of course.”

“I like Gareth,” you blurted out. “I really really like Gareth. I helped patch him up the other day, when he got beat up. And there was a moment, but I panicked and I ran,” you said in one rushed breath.

Chrissy gasped, sounding delighted, “you like Gareth?” She repeated with a grin. “What do you mean a moment? Did he kiss you?” She pressed.

You quickly shook your head, cheeks on fire. “No, nothing like that!” You exclaimed. “I wanted him to—but no. He didn’t,” you shook your head again. “I don’t know what to do,” you cried, folding forward to press your forehead against the mattress.

“...you could write him a letter,” Chrissy earnestly suggested, patting your back in an attempt at comfort. It wasn’t working. “It helps. It’s like therapy,” she said thoughtfully. “Then all you had to do is put it in his locker.”

“And after?” You asked into the mattress. “Then what do I do?”

Chrissy shrugged like she hadn’t thought about it. “You see what happens,” she said like it was that easy.

You sat up and narrowed your eyes at her, “fine,” you said, holding up a finger. “I’ll write Gareth a letter if you give Eddie yours,” you said.

Chrissy thought about it before frowning. “That’s not fair. If you give Gareth a letter, I’ll give Eddie mine,” she proposed.

You scowled, you hadn’t thought she’d catch onto your wording. “Fine, fine,” you conceded. “You’re a sneaky friend.”

“I’m a cheerleader,” Chrissy beamed. She clapped her hands together before shooing you away, “I’ll get a pen and paper. You go grab your perfume,” she ordered and began to dig through your bag again.

You made a face behind her back before going to grab your favorite bottle of perfume.

—

The next day, you understood why Chrissy had been carrying around her letter for a week. It’s because delivering it was nerve wracking. You had mustered up the courage to approach his locker three times but every time you ended up walking away. Plus, there were too many people at all times, you couldn’t shake the feeling that they were staring at you.

Just as you were about to go find Chrissy and tell her to just forget about the whole thing, Gareth had yanked you into the boys bathroom. He locked the door before turning around to stare at you, a smile playing at his lips.

Your heart was hammering in your chest as you stared at him. His bruises looked to be healing without complication. And somehow the cuts and bruises just added to his attractiveness. You finally found your voice and asked, “what do you want?”

“Hostile,” Gareth noted before holding out a folded sweater. “Here, because I ruined the other one.”

Your brow furrowed as you took a step towards him. You reached out for the sweater and took it, holding it up and getting a good look at it. It was a plain grey sweater that you had a sneaking suspicion belonged to him.

“You don’t have to give this to me. It’s okay,” you said, trying to hand it back.

Gareth stuffed his hands into his pockets to avoid taking it, “it’s fine, keep it,” he said before turning around and walking out of the bathroom, just as you had done a few days ago.

When he was gone, you let yourself smile and held the sweater close to your chest. You slipped it on and waited another minute before hurrying out of the bathroom.

—

Chrissy, of course, noticed the sweater you wore wasn’t your own and spent the first five minutes of practice gushing about how cute it was that Gareth had given you his sweater. She also informed you that she delivered her letter already.

“I asked to go to the bathroom during class, so the halls were empty, and I just put it in his locker,” she retold. “I guess we’ll see what happens now. But now you have to give him your letter.”

“Do not,” you countered as you stretched, “He’ll laugh at me, it’s so ridiculous.”

“He won’t laugh at you, Y/N,” Chrissy said in a gentler tone. “It’ll be fine. I promise.”

—

You decided to trust Chrissy and take a page out of her book. You asked to go to the bathroom during physics, which ensured you wouldn’t run into him, and walked all the way to his locker. You slipped the letter inside without any problems, but when you turned around, you ran into an unforeseen issue.

Eddie Munson.

“Eddie,” you said, startled. You knew you looked guilty, standing in front of his best friend's locker when you were supposed to be in class.

“Y/N, you look lovely,” he said, bowing his head in greeting. “Don’t you have Physics now?” He asked, “why are you skulking about?” His brow arched as he stepped closer.

You nodded, stepping back, “I’m not skulking, I’m going to class,” you lied. “So I’ll be seeing you, Eddie.”

“Hey, do me a favor,” he called before you could run off, “tell Chrissy to meet me after school. She knows where,” he requested.

“No way,” you answered immediately. “She won’t believe me. Tell her yourself,” you said. “I have to go,” you excused and hurried off back to class.

—

“Okay, this is bullshit,” Dustin proclaimed as he glared at the stupid pink letter in Gareth’s hands. “First Eddie now you? What the fuck!”

“First Eddie what?” Eddie asked as he set his lunch tray down and sat in his usual spot.

“Gareth got a stupid letter,” Dustin sulked. “This isn’t fair.”

Eddie perked up considerably as he leaned over to try and see the letter. Gareth swatted him away. The two continued for a few more seconds like that.

“Don’t you and Suzie write?” Mike deadpanned, picking at his lunch. “It’s the same thing.”

“It’s not! I don’t get love letters, I just get normal letters,” Dustin insisted around a mouthful of his apple.

“What’s the difference?” Mike demanded. He got letters from El all the time.

“Eddie, fuck off!” Gareth suddenly shouted, drawing attention to himself as he leaned way back in his seat. Eddie was leaning forward in his own, reaching out for him.

Gareth looked up suddenly when he noticed you and Chrissy conveniently walking by. Eddie instantly straightened up and waggled his fingers at Chrissy, who smiled and paused in front of the table.

That’s when Gareth’s chair tipped backwards and unceremoniously dumped him on the ground. He burned in embarrassment as he sat back up, grimacing as he rubbed the back of his head. He looked up to see you watching with worried eyes. He smiled at you.

Chrissy whispered something to you and you rolled your eyes, muttering, “shut up, let’s go.”

“See you, sunshine,” Gareth bid farewell.

You didn’t look back and instead kept walking.

“That was cold," Mike observed, stealing fries from Dustin’s tray, despite having a tray full of his own.

Gareth stood up and set his chair upright before sitting down again. Then, he looked at Dustin with a smirk and tapped his front pocket, where the folded up letter was peeking out. He said nothing, but perfectly conveyed what he meant.

Dustin's jaw dropped, "no fucking way," he said. "No way do both of you have cheerleaders writing you love letters. That's impossible. You're not cool enough."

"Ouch," Eddie threw a fry at him that missed and hit Mike in the face.

"Hey!" Gareth shouted, affronted. "Don't be jealous, Henderson."

"Y/N didn't even acknowledge you," Dustin countered. "Liar."

"It's different for them," Gareth stated matter of factly.

"Yeah, dude," Eddie agreed. "It's not so simple. You know who we are and who they are. They can't just stroll over here and talk to us. It'd make their lives miserable."

"Hey, our lives aren't miserable!" Dustin objected.

"They're at the top of the hierarchy," Mike caught on faster than Dustin. "If they talk to any of us, they're social life is done for."

"Steve talks to us and he was popular," Dustin sulked.

"Steve's not in highschool. Is he now?" Eddie questioned. "Mind your business, Henderson or Steve's taking you home today."

Dustin quickly zipped it shut, because if Steve picked him up, it meant he'd be waiting around for ages until his shift was over. No thanks.

That didn't mean he stopped noticing the way Gareth and Eddie kept staring at the table you and Chrissy were sitting at.

—

"Did you talk to Eddie?" You prompted during practice that day. It had been bothering you all day; wondering if Eddie had asked her what he asked you to relay.

"How'd you know that?" Chrissy responded as she did her stretches, sitting on the ground beside you. "Yes, I talked to Eddie. He wants to meet me after practice. Did you talk to Gareth?"

You shook your head, "I dropped the letter in his locker during physics and I haven't seen him since lunch," you reported.

Chrissy nodded before her head snapped up, looking at something in the distance. She gave you a side glance before standing up and dusting the grass off her clothes.

You looked up at her, then looked out to see what she was staring at. You blinked at Gareth and Eddie, who were standing on the far edge of the field. "Don't they have dnd today?" You asked. "What are they doing?"

Chrissy didn't comment on how exactly you knew when they had dnd, and shrugged. She looked around at their teammates who were too busy stretching to pay them any mind. "Want to find out?" She asked.

You stared at her for a long moment. "Eddie's a bad influence on you," you lightheartedly informed. "Yeah, let's go," you said, climbing to your feet. You watched as they turned around and disappeared into the line of trees.

Chrissy looked back at her teammates before she broke off at a sprint for the tree line. You ran after her, laughing when you heard shouts behind you, demanding for the both of you to come back.

Chrissy was giggling in front of you as she broke the treeline and slowed down.

“We’re gonna be running laps all next practice,” you breathlessly informed, slowly to a stop beside her. “And probably practice after that.”

Chrissy dismissed that with a cheerful hum and began to walk, “c’mon, I know where they went,” she encouraged.

“And how do you know that?” You questioned as you followed her through the tree’s. “Why are you even coming back here?”

“Because of Eddie,” she easily replied.

You narrowed your eyes at the back of her head in suspicion.

Gareth suddenly stepped out from behind a tree, making the two of you stop. “Hello, Chrissy,” he greeted, “Eddie’s waiting for you.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder to show her where.

Chrissy smiled warmly at him, “Goodbye Gareth, bye Y/N,” she said before walking past Gareth to go meet Eddie.

You frowned at her back, mildly offended at being abandoned for a boy. You looked at Gareth, but quickly looked away again. You were too embarrassed to make eye contact.

“Walk with me?” Gareth requested as he headed off to the left, opposite the way Chrissy went.

You walked at his side in silence, trying to come up with something to say that didn’t sound ridiculous or cheesy. He beat you to it.

“I read your letter,” he said casually. “I’ve never gotten a love letter before. It was really sweet.”

Your cheeks grew warm like they always did when he was around. You looked at the ground, scuffing your feet against the ground as you walked, “I’m glad you think so,” you settled on replying. “Eddie, he uh, caught me. When I was putting it in your locker. It was embarrassing,” you confessed.

Gareth laughed, “he caught you?” He repeated, “wait when was this? His locker isn’t near mine.”

“During physics. I have no idea what he was doing,” you said honestly. “I think he was looking for Chrissy’s locker, he asked me to relay a message.”

Gareth nodded, like that was a good explanation. “I have a question for you,” he began, which immediately made your heartbeat hammer in your chest. “Were you at our show? A few weeks ago?”

You exhaled softly when it was nothing bad and nodded. “Only for a minute,” you answered, “it was really loud, but I saw you playing, You looked good.” you paused once you realized what you said.

Gareth began to smirk. “I looked good, sunshine?” He teased while leaning in close.

You avoided eye contact and quickly backpedaled. “No, I-I meant that you played good.”

“So you don’t think I look good?”

“No!”

“No, you don’t?”

“I-I meant that no, that’s not what I meant!” You groaned and rubbed your face. “Yes, you looked good,” you reluctantly settled on, your cheeks burning hot in embarrassment. You should have just stayed quiet.

Gareth smiled, “you look cute when you’re embarrassed,” he said honestly.

If possible, your cheeks grew even hotter.

“I really like you,” he continued, knocking shoulders with you.

You made no attempt to move away from him, but you did sigh softly. “I’m sorry.”

Gareth gave you a weird look as he stopped walking and turned to face you. “You’re sorry?”

“Yeah. We can’t—we couldn’t ever—”

Gareth stopped you by taking your hands between his. They were callused and rough against your smoother ones, and you couldn’t help but take note of how right it felt to hold his hand. “I know,” he hushed. “I know, we run in two different circles. I know.”

“...that doesn’t bother you?” You asked quietly, lifting your gaze from your hands to look at him. “We can’t be…a normal couple. Not in school at least. Or where they could see us. Do you have any idea how bad it would be for you?” You asked.

“You don’t have to worry about me, sunshine,” he said in a more serious tone. “We’ll just have to be sneaky, alright? We’ll figure it out. If that’s what you want,” he added.

“I do,” you said quickly. You just felt guilty that you’d have to hide all because you didn’t want to deal with the backlash that came with going public. “I want that, I want…to be with you.”

Gareth beamed and squeezed your hands gently. “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded and leaned in for a sweet kiss.

—

That had been the start of your relationship. Since then, you and Gareth had been on three dates. Technically four, but you didn’t count the double date with Chrissy and Eddie.

You were happy with him, really happy, but there had been…close calls. Today had been a very close call day, and you were beginning to doubt your relationship. Doubt if it was worth it. Because currently, sitting in an empty parking lot with Gareth, who was nursing his wounds, it didn’t feel worth it.

You chewed nervously on your bottom lip as you glanced up at him. His nose had finally stopped bleeding and nothing looked broken, but he looked like shit. You knew it would only look worse tomorrow when all the bruises had formed.

“I’m sorry,” you quietly began, staring at your hands, unable to look at him with your crushing guilt. It had been your fault, afterall. You were in a mood and had been arguing with him. It was lighthearted because you hadn’t actually been mad, just annoyed. Someone from school had seen him chasing after you and took things the entire wrong way.

He had hit Gareth. So of course Gareth hit him back, which just egged the guy on. A few minutes later, Gareth was lying still on the ground, bleeding. You had to pretend you were grateful to the stupid asshole who had beat your boyfriends face in for no reason.

You helped him mop the blood up from his face and here you were.

You sniffled, tears stinging your eyes that you furiously refused to fall. You had no reason to cry, Gareth was the one who got the beat down, not you. “I’m so sorry, Gareth. I didn’t…I wasn’t thinking of what it looked like. I’m so sorry,” you whispered.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Gareth said, scooting closer to press his shoulder against yours. “You don’t have anything to apologize for, sunshine,” he murmured, putting a hand on your knee.

You shifted away from him, wrapping your arms around himself. “He could have hurt you a lot worse,” you sniffled. “It could have been so much worse, Gareth.”

“But it wasn’t,” he replied. “I’m fine, nothing that hasn’t happened before. Those guys are douchebags. It’s not your fault he happened to be around and got the wrong idea,” he reassured.

“This was a bad idea,” you whispered. “This—us—was a bad idea. You’re only going to get hurt, Gareth. We shouldn’t be doing this,” you said, forcing yourself to look up at him.

Gareth was frowning as he scooted closer again, “c’mhere,” he ushered as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. He pulled you tight against his side, encouraging you to lay your head against his shoulder. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and sighed softly. “We’re going to be okay,” he said, slow and firm.

More tears stung at your eyes and when you blinked, they spilled over your cheeks. “I’m sorry,” you cried.

“Shh,” Gareth soothed. “It’s okay. We’re okay,” he repeated.

You nodded as you tried to wipe your cheeks and stop the tears. “I love you,” you said. “I love you so much, we aren’t a bad idea, I didn’t mean that.”

“I know,” he murmured his reassurances. “I know you didn’t mean it, sunshine. I love you too. More than you can even dream. So don’t cry, okay? It’s okay.” He rubbed your arm in comfort.

You leaned closer into the warmth his body provided and said nothing more as the tears subsided. Once they had stopped, you allowed yourself to enjoy this small moment with him. You truly did love him, and maybe one day you’d have the courage to tell it to the world.

illusion [ethan landry x reader]

requests for ethan are open!

pre - ghostface / no ghostface alternate! no spoilers for scream 6!

pairing: ethan landry x gender neutral reader

notes: enemies/academic rivals to lovers trope <3__<3, not proofread, this is almost 10k words,,

"Pop quiz."

The key words that sent the classroom of college students into despair as soon as they left the professor's mouth. The unpreparedness of the young adults was gauged by the groans and soft curses that followed the announcement before quiet fell upon the classroom, only the sounds of keys clacking and frustrated pens tapping heard against the silence. You were ready despite the surprise, having taken detailed notes and studied over them without the knowledge or pressure of a quiz.

The inability to change their fates led to complaints mumbled all around you. You listened intently to the grievances, realizing that the only ones who remained quiet in the sea of traveling whispers were you and the antagonist of your life - Ethan Landry.

There was an unspoken competition between you and Ethan that neither of you verbally acknowledged but were both acutely aware of. It was a race to see who scored better most often, carefully kept up with by your classmate. You were vaguely aware of the lack of supporters on your side, the overwhelming majority rooting for Ethan. The way Ethan rallied people effortlessly while you sat in silence each class fueled your anger, each whisper and laugh from behind you making your heart thump.

Usually, you were on par with Ethan despite your lack of fans, but math was always a tough subject; a few simple mistakes have led to your downfall. You devoted hours to secure your place as a top performer - time and effort you were positive Ethan didn't match. His smiles were too easy, body too relaxed throughout each grade returned. Ethan was overconfident and you wished for nothing more than for his arrogance to bite him in the ass one day.

You didn't allow yourself to view your score after you submitted your quiz, moving out of the tab without a peek. Your desire to find out Ethan's score before yours became a routine of staying in your seat until the whispers behind you revealed what you wanted to know. Knowing Ethan's score first intensified either the satisfaction or disappointment you would feel upon viewing your own score. Pretty soon, beating Ethan had become your biggest motivation. You measured your value through these constant comparisons, for you were worthless when you stood on your own.

A storm of whispers began once someone peeked at Ethan's screen. It didn't take long for the voices to move toward your area from its origin in the row behind you, hushed voices repeating the words "failed" and "30." You rolled the information over in your hear; if Ethan had scored 30 points, he didn't do that poorly, but a 30%? He had to be upset over a 30/35; there wasn't a chance that Ethan Landry could've made a 30%. The absurdity made you shake your head and smile. The whispers stopped suddenly as a laptop shut with too much force and shuffling sounds followed. You turned your head slightly to see Ethan walk out of the room, unable to figure him out.

By the time you gathered your things and stepped out into the empty hallway, Ethan was long gone.

「 ... 」

The next time you were forced into the same room as Ethan Landry was Thursday. Class ended but you were stuck to your seat, copious notes filling the pages of your notebook. They were not neat; those would be created in the library while the information was fresh. You picked up after yourself quickly; students flocked to the library in waves at this hour.

-

Ethan waited until class was officially over before moving out of his seat, feet feeling unusually heavy in his slow strides toward you. It didn't take him long to reach you, considering he was seated behind you, but he delayed reaching his destination as much as he could. He stood a few feet away from where you were, quickly shoving your things into your bag. He thought you'd be more organized.

As Ethan stood in your vicinity, he had shamelessly assumed you'd notice him without him having to utter a word to you.

Ethan's opinion of you changed drastically during the class; in the beginning, Ethan Landry thought you were gorgeous.

It wasn't long before Ethan realized you were a hard worker too and he wondered how someone could be so perfect. But you were everything he wasn't and Ethan Landry was not good at romance so he gave up on the insane idea of ever speaking to you.

His biggest mistake was sitting so close to you, his nerves controlling him for the better part of those first few weeks. This nervousness when it came to anything related to you was obvious when his face dropped the second he glanced at you or accidentally made eye contact; it was obvious when he would quickly turn his head away whenever you came near. You'd never spoken to him and he'd rather keep it that way - Ethan didn't know what horrific things would leave his mouth in your presence.

These developments only fueled your dislike for Ethan. All you could find yourself doing was complaining about Ethan with more frequency to the point your best friend was tired of you, this close to making an Ethan Jar where you'd put money in any time you talked about him.

Ethan wasn't sure when his feelings toward you changed - perhaps it was the intimidating aura that surrounded you, which quickly crushed any fantasy he had of acquainting himself with you. The fear that you were an awful person overtook everything else and was supported by your refusal to help the classmates around you that were clearly struggling in the class, the uninterested and cold looks you gave out burned into the back of his brain. Despite his hesitancy to accept it, Ethan was starting to believe that you had some sort of superiority complex over everyone else.

Yet here he was, about to find out how accurate his suspicions were as he begged for your help.

You didn't acknowledge Ethan as you continued packing up your things. Giving you the benefit of the doubt, Ethan called out your name.

You didn't answer.

Were you seriously ignoring him?

Ethan was growing annoyed now, eyebrows furrowing as he tried to understand your behavior. How could a person be so rude?

"Holy shit!" Your voice rang loud in the empty classroom and Ethan jumped at the sound. You mirrored the action, hand on your chest in shock. You hadn't realized he was there.

You took your earbuds out and watched curiously as a bright red flush passed over Ethan's face.

Oh.

"Did you... need something?" You tried to keep your distaste for Ethan out of your voice, confusion and curiosity keeping you from walking away.

"Yeah... I mean, no," Ethan's confidence faltered from his mistake and he suddenly remembered how beginning-of-the-year Ethan would've never dared to do this.

"O...kay?" You were starting to get weirded out now, your contempt for the boy in front of you becoming more apparent by the second. You moved past him, sighing in irritation as you tapped your phone screen for the time; the library would be booked by now.

You began the route to the library regardless, knowing you wouldn't get any work done in the cramped space you shared with your messy roommate.

You hadn't realized or, more accurately, didn't want to assume Ethan was following you until you had been walking for a while and the heavier thud of a pair of footsteps didn't fade or falter. You stopped and turned around, even more annoyed now.

"What?" You demanded expectedly.

Ethan bit back his pride and irritation. "I do. Actually need something."

You couldn't help the roll of your eyes and the tone of your voice. "I asked you - "

"Yeah, I know," Ethan snapped back.

Kittens. Puppies. Rainbows. You took a deep breath, calming the bubbling exasperation in your throat.

"What is it that you need, Ethan?"

A jolt ran through Ethan and struck him speechless as he realized that was the first time he'd ever heard his name leave your mouth. It was -

"Seriously?" Your arms were crossed, unimpressed and frustrated. Every second that you wasted entertaining Ethan was another seat lost in the library.

"I failed the pop quiz. Like... failed," Ethan confessed without a bite in his voice, causing your arms to drop to your sides in surprise.

"Oh," you said softly, suddenly feeling guilty that your nonverbal wish for his failure had come true.

"I didn't really understand the lesson, I guess," Ethan closed his eyes, attempting to swallow his pride for just another second. "So, can you help me? I know you're the only one who actually passed."

You briefly wondered how Ethan knew, considering no one was interested in peeking at your score like they were with Ethan and you'd made quick work of closing out of your score the second you received it.  

You didn't answer for a moment, debating on what you should do. You could laugh in his face and walk away. You could.

But you didn't.

"Come on," you turned back around as you replied, continuing the route you had been interrupted from following. "The library's probably packed."

「 ... 」

The severity of your situation over weighed the feeling of satisfaction that came with being right as you entered the overcrowded library, your favorite seat taken. You sighed as you scanned the library for a place you and Ethan could sit. The universe seemed to laugh at you when you realized the only available spot you'd both fit in was the tiniest couch in the room.

You grabbed Ethan's arm and dragged him over to the spot, trying to keep the flush on your face down as you took a seat, squeezing into the edge of the couch as much as you could. You were expressionless as Ethan took a hesitant seat next to you, tension in the air as the two of you tried to create as much space between the two of you as possible. It was counterproductive, considering each attempt brought you two uncomfortably closer. You finally cleared your throat, reaching for your bag and taking out your notes. You refrained from sighing as you flipped past your most recent ones - they would have to wait.

"So," your voice was low despite the secluded area you found yourselves in, landing on the lessons the pop quiz had focused on. The pages of orderly and precise notes surprised Ethan; you put more effort into those notes than Ethan had into anything. "Where do you wanna start?"

「 ... 」

The library was closing soon and the two of you gathered your things. You walked in front of Ethan, unsure of where he was going; but you didn't walk fast enough for him not to be able to catch up.

Ethan had no idea where you were going but you didn't stop him from walking with you, a sign he took as good.

The study session had gone well, but it frustrated him how well you taught him the material. When he didn't quite grasp something you switched it up and explained it differently until he did, recognizing his learning patterns and using them to try to help him as much as possible. He thought you'd be a pain in the ass about the whole thing and brag about how well you'd done compared to him. He expected you to beat you down while he was low but you remained civil, even showed him kindness and Ethan was slowly starting to think that maybe he didn't really know you.

Though something about your behavior bothered him. It wasn't like you were terrible at teaching difficult concepts to others. Of course, you didn't owe anyone anything, but wasn't it the polite thing to do? He'd always heard complaints from his classmates that you were unhelpful and the difference in the way you treated people fired something up in Ethan.

Ethan simply couldn't understand you and those unresolved feelings got him angry all over again.

He stopped walking just as you began wondering how long he'd trail you in silence for. You stopped too, turning to give him a curious glance.

“Why are you so mean?” He asked suddenly, brows furrowed in anger and confusion.

“Excuse me?” You scoffed, clearly offended. You'd just spent hours of your own time helping Ethan and he called you mean?

“To everyone else,” Ethan clarified. “Why don't you help people when they need? Do you think you're better than them or something? You ignore anyone who makes below an A?”

“Are you fucking joking?” You were as angry as Ethan was now, taking a heated step in his direction. “If you thought I was such an asshole, why'd you ask me for help?” You questioned rhetorically, interrupting Ethan as you saw him open his mouth. You felt abnormally hot, anger the only thing fueling you now. It was suddenly clear now and you could hear your heart pound in anger at Ethan's accusations. Like it was your fault no one approached you.

“Well, I’m sorry I don't insert myself when it's not my business. I can't read people's minds. Do you think anyone actually...” You took a breath as your voice shook with frustration. “No one fucking talks to me.” It was the sad truth of your situation; your classmates ignored you so you ignored them. You weren't one to strike up awkward conversations just for the sake of it.

Ethan’s anger melted away as his composure fell, just slightly. Regret washed over him as he realized, too late again, his mistake.

You wanted to say something else, to prove to him that it didn't bother you, but your embarrassment mixed with your anger in the worst way as you felt tears begin to sting your eyes. Don't cry in front of him, please, fuck.

You turned around swiftly, deciding it was better to get back to your dorm than continue making a fool of yourself. By the end of the night, you were only sure of one thing; you absolutely hated Ethan Landry.

「 ... 」

You hadn't expected Ethan to come up to you again, praying the embarrassment of his misjudgments would keep him away from you. You were right for a week or two, classes passing by with no contact with Ethan Landry except for accidental eye contact that flustered you both.

To think you had been beginning to warm up to him while studying. Maybe he wasn't so bad, you had been close to admitting defeat. You scoffed at that thought now. The only thing you hated more than arrogant people were people who couldn't form opinions on their own. Ethan had told you all you needed to know with the simple accusations he threw your way.

However, Ethan didn't stay away for long. The scene gave you deja vu; you were packing up your stuff when a figure approached and something in you knew it was Ethan. It was eerie how quiet he could be compared to how boisterous he usually was in class.

You ignored Ethan's quiet advances towards you on purpose this time, gathering your materials in a hurry. You moved too quickly, your notebook dropping and loose papers scattering all over the floor. Ethan dropped to the floor before you could protest, picking up the sheets. By the time you crouched down he had collected them all, neatly shaking them into a pile. Ethan tried for a smile as he handed the stack to you.

"Thanks," you muttered, collecting your things off the ground. Despite it all, you remained polite. The both of you stared at each other and you slung your bag onto your shoulder, its heaviness creating an ache where it rested. You two stood there a moment just like you had all those weeks ago, though this time there was a thick tension in the air, both of you unsure of what the other would say next.

"Could we..." Ethan gulped, nervousness evident in the way he tapped his shoulders nervously against the strap of his bag. "Could we talk? We could get something to eat, or a coffee, or just... talk?"

Your expression didn't falter from the cold stare you gave him, outwardly unresponsive to his words as you internally thought it over.

“You know, I'd really prefer it if we didn't," you responded coolly. "You're welcome never to speak to me again, though?" You made a move to continue forward and Ethan instinctively stepped closer.

“I'm sorry.” Ethan tried desperately, shoulders slumping and eyes pleading.

Maybe he did mean it, but you didn't want to accept it.You weren't sure what it mattered to him so much. He could've pretended you were the person he thought you were and moved on. After all, you'd barely given him, weren't giving him, any reason to believe otherwise.

“Sure.” You pushed past him. It was immature and you knew it, but you didn't stop yourself from doing it anyway.

Although there was something that bothered you about Ethan Landry, something different than before. You couldn't quite place your finger on what it was about him despite you rolling over all your conversations and interactions.

That conversation played over and over in your head. You could see it clearly every time; the way anger flayed Ethan's features and created cruel words to fall out of his mouth. The way the anger in you pooled and you did the same.

You remembered the way Ethan was consumed with regret. You only saw a portion of it, you were sure. A part of you knew it ran deeper than you'd ever be able to see and maybe even understand.

After another afternoon of thinking it over, you laid in bed and picked over each detail once again. There was a problem here, one that was hiding its solution from you. There was a missing piece, you were sure, a fatal flaw with the equation that kept you up all night. You sat up suddenly, as the awful realization hit you. You realized, with urgency, that you might've just become the world's biggest hypocrite.

「 ... 」

Ethan hadn't realized that his opinion of you was capable of changing. He maybe, definitely shouldn't have thought so little of you before he even spoke to you. He rolled over in bed each night, your voice echoing in his head. The hurt in your eyes, your guarded body language. Ethan had to do something.

He didn't need you to accept your apology. He didn't crave forgiveness. He just needed to know you. That had been the root of all his issues with you. He'd believed things without ever actually seeing them for himself, picking and choosing what supported his assumptions. Ethan never had the full story and that had been his biggest mistake.

Ethan spent the next few days with nothing but you on his mind, spending hours deciding on a course of action. He wasn't sure how you'd react given your last interaction. You had remained calm and composed but he knew you didn't like him. He didn't like him. Your response was entirely justified and Ethan knew, whatever the outcome was, he would accept it. If you truly never wanted to speak to him again, he would stay as far away from you as he could manage.

Ethan waited for you after class, relief washing over as he spotted you in the large crowd that had formed. He started walking backwards in front of you, forcing you to keep your attention on him.

"Before you tell me to go away," Ethan began, making sure your earbuds weren't in. You stopped walking suddenly and his heart dropped - but you reached out to grab him.

"Watch where you're going," you muttered, but there was no heat to it, motioning back to the person Ethan had almost bumped in to.

"Thanks." Ethan grinned at you, his excitement almost overflowing out of him.

"Do you have a second?" Ethan asked cautiously, glancing at your expression.

"You're already talking." You put your hands on your hips, a tiredness suddenly becoming evident as your face and shoulders fell.

Ethan had a sudden urge to reach out and comfort you, though he refrained.

"I came up with a really great idea. I promise it's a win-win," Ethan stopped to check your face, unrelenting eyes staring back at him.

"We hang out - " Ethan began and you rolled your eyes. "Three times. Just three. I get to know you. You get to bask in the fact that I'm wrong and you're right and call me an idiot?" Ethan's plan came out more like a question than a statement, his confidence dropping with your unimpressed demeanor.

"Why?" You asked suddenly and genuinely, unable to understand why Ethan Landry, out of all people, wanted to admit he was wrong.

"I..." Ethan held his bottom lip between his teeth nervously, rocking on his feet as he continued. "You're not the person I thought you were." He confessed honestly, hoping that his eyes revealed the truth.

You weren't sure why you agreed. It was a completely stupid idea. Maybe the loneliness of your limited social circle was catching up to you, or the weary glances everyone threw your way were beginning to sting. Perhaps if you realized Ethan was really as bad as you thought, you wouldn't have to feel so guilty about your hypocritical speculation. Maybe it was that part of you that wanted to change, to break the cycle of unrealistic comparisons and the high bar you held yourself to. Maybe if you came to the grand realization that you could be wrong sometimes, you could become just a little bit happier with yourself.

「 ... 」

Ethan, unsurprisingly, texted you first. You assumed he'd only use it to create plans, but his name popped up on your screen with increasing frequency.

you

this wasnt part of the deal.

ethan

we never set any rules about texting...

:|>

you

wtf is that supposed to be?

ethan

... im sticking my tongue out at you?

you

?????

You shook your head at the strangest emoticon you'd seen, your screen slowly fading to black after you sent your reply. In your phone's reflection, you caught yourself smiling.

「 ... 」

Ethan wasted no time in creating plants, asking you if you were free that weekend. You were, and he thought it was "cool." You stared longer at the text than you should've, a little curious as to what he would plan.

Ethan caught up with you after class, graduating from sending friendly smiles and small waves to you from across the room. He fell into step with you, matching your shorter strides.

"I was thinking about what to do this weekend," Ethan began casually, as if the two of you hanging out was the most normal thing in the world. "How about the movies?" Ethan asked with a bright smile.

You laughed, a little taken aback as you saw Ethan's expression.

“No way.” You responded.

“What? Why?” Ethan's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Are you kidding? You seriously don't know?” You asked in a bit of disbelief.

Ethan shook his head and you almost felt sorry that he was so clueless.

“When a guy asks someone to the movies, he usually wants to... you know...”

You watched as the realization hit Ethan, his eyes widening and his face reddening.

“Ohmygod, I didn't mean - “

Then you laughed. You truly, genuinely laughed at Ethan's expression and perhaps a bit at his expense. Despite this, Ethan's face transformed into a small smile and he let out a little laugh along with you.

“Ok, bad idea. We can watch a movie at my dorm?"

You gave Ethan a look, a light smile still lingering on your face. “Ethan. that's even worse.”

“Shit, sorry, let's just scrap the movie. Wanna get lunch?”

「 ... 」

The weekend came quickly and you found yourself looking forward to hanging out with Ethan. His texts were no longer getting on your nerves and you found yourself replying almost instantly each time, no matter what you were in the middle of doing.

Ethan waited outside your dorm building for you. He didn't have to but he did anyway, eyes lighting up as soon as he saw you.

"Lead the way." You smiled gently and despite his nod, Ethan walked next to you. He began talking, nervously at first, then you joined in here and there and eventually the two of you walked in comfortable conversation. It wasn't long before you reached your destination, a simple campus cafe with mediocre food but didn't require traveling out to the city.

The two of you walked up to the counter, ordering the best things the menu had to offer despite its limited options. Ethan went first, opting for a sandwich and a lemonade. He paid and moved out of the way for you. Once you confirmed your separate order with the worker, Ethan's hand hurried to try to tap his card against the screen. You looked at him quizzically as you placed a firm hand on his, trapping it against the counter. "What are you doing?" You seemed to ask him and he moved his hand away apologetically, neither of you wanting to argue. You paid for your meal - you would not be indebted to Ethan Landry.

The two of you sat near one of the giant windows that doubled as a wall for the cafe, allowing you to peer out and watch students walk by. You and Ethan sat across from each other and the silence that swallowed the two of you was awkward, a complete 180 from the easy-flowing conversation from earlier.

Ethan's eyes flickered from you to the window and back, fingers tapping nervously on the table. Although you couldn't see it directly, you knew his leg was bouncing from under the table, a habit you had picked up on.

It was up to you to start talking. You forced your eyes back to Ethan, offering him a resigning smile. Your eyes landed on his as your mouth opened to speak, but your words failed. The sun was shining just the right way on Ethan, rays of warm light creating a curious glint in his eyes. You'd thought they were a basic brown before but realized the depth of them now, the sun exposing the warmth in them. Ethan raised a hand to shield his eyes from the harsh light, eyes crinkling and nose scrunching. The sudden realization that Ethan was beautiful hit you suddenly and with urgency as if it were a revolutionary breakthrough you had to proclaim.

You cleared your throat and your mind and Ethan's hand dropped, moving to support his chin as he moved his focus from the sun to you.

"So, you like Star Wars?" You asked rather softly, wondering where to place the thought that had suddenly intruded your brain.

Ethan's eyes widened and he straightened. "How'd you know?"

You motioned downwards toward Ethan's Star Wars wallet, still resting on the table. Ethan's face visibly fired up as he grabbed his wallet and stuffed it into his pocket.

"Are you... a fan?" Ethan asked weakly.

"No way. I mean, the movies are so long and they get so boring. The entire thing is so confusing - I mean, no offense..." You trailed off, realizing that if Ethan owned a Star Wars wallet, Ethan probably really liked Star Wars.

And clearly, Ethan had taken offense.

"Well, first of all, the movies are not long and boring. The story itself is so intricate you have to pay close attention - but it's actually good. Plus, the first movie was super revolutionary and completely ahead of its time - "

You stifled a giggle as Ethan avidly attempted to defend his favorite franchise, hands flailing as he emphasized his points. You had never seen him so passionate.

"Hey, this is a very serious debate," Ethan said, although there was a widening smile on his face.

"No, no, you're right. Please keep going," you encouraged and Ethan rolled his eyes with a smile.

"What is your biggest issue with the franchise?"

"Hmmm..." You placed your hand on your chin, deep in thought. "I always fall asleep while trying to watch the movies."

Ethan leaned back with a sigh. "That is literally a you problem."

You laughed again, shaking your head. "No way. It's not my fault the movies are so boring I fall asleep."

"It totally is!" Ethan's eyebrows moved with the fluctuations of his voice, hands exasperatedly pointed at you while you continued laughing.

“I can't back down from this one. You're gonna have to admit you're wrong this time."

"Hey, I never said I was right," you countered. "I just told you what I thought."

"Well, you seem like you always want to be right. Are you?" Ethan's tone was gentle and curious, not condescending like you expected, seemingly wanting to know more.

Your shoulders rose in a small shrug as you thought the question over.

"I do want to be... it does feel nice," you answered decisively. "But I don't have to be. Sometimes you have to sacrifice it to keep the peace, you know?" That was a lesson you'd learned the hard way, the loud mouth you had during your childhood slowly giving way to a calmer, harder disposition.

"Yeah," Ethan said softly. "I get that." And something in his voice told you he really did.

「 ... 」

It wasn't long until Ethan became your personal Baader-Meinhof phenomenon, appearing with increasing frequency seemingly out of nowhere. You were greeted by the sight of him on your way to classes you didn't share, Ethan engaging in conversation with you until he was forced to let you go. You weren't aware that most of Ethan's classes were on the opposite side of campus - if he even had them at all.

Ethan's habit of walking you to class mixed with his recurring texts, his name popping up at the top of your screen multiple times a day.

Ethan had become an integral part of your routine. His texts would come in as soon as your classes ended, inquiring about how they went. The two of you would text until one of you wiped out (usually Ethan and usually before 10 p.m.).

You hung around until you spotted Ethan, hard to miss with his curly hair and his tall stature. The overcast day presaged the cold winter months that would soon reach their peak. You watched as his eyes scanned for you, face breaking out into a smile as soon as he spotted you. Your expression mirrored his as the two of you weaved between the bodies making up a small crowd until finally, you stood in front of each other.

"Hey," you greeted, lips stretching into an even wider smile.

"Hey." Ethan's teeth made an appearance as he rocked back and forth. Nervous habit. He had something to say, you could tell. However, you weren't going to force it out of him.

Even in the gray wash of light Ethan was radiant. He brought a warmth that took off the bite of the cold New York air.

The two of you began talking about anything, beginning the journey to your first class of the morning. Ethan's shoulders bumped yours as you walked, quickly approaching your destination.

Ethan took a breath as the two of you stopped just outside your classroom, turning his body to face you finally.

"So, I was thinking," Ethan started, carefully watching the changes in your expression.

"Woah, that's new," you teased as Ethan sighed cordially.

"Okay, now I don't feel bad for what I'm about to say," Ethan continued and your heart stammered anxiously. "Our next official hangout is watching Star Wars."

You groaned.

"Before you say anything, please keep in mind - I don't care." Ethan said proudly, watching as your expression contorting into one of displeasure while your shoulders sagged.

"You're the worst," you started, but Ethan just smiled, nodding for you to go on. "And I could totally overrule you. I can literally block you and never speak to you again."

Ethan's eyes widened and his mouth opened to say something. Did you take it too far?

"I'm kidding," you said quickly before embarrassment could stop you. "I will... give Star Wars another chance."

You turned away from Ethan in an attempt to hide the prominent flush on your cheeks, missing the way his cheeks lit up to match yours.

"Wait!" Ethan called before you could enter your class, which you were almost going to be late to. "Where are we gonna watch it?"

You turned around once again, giving him a curious glance as his face turned a bright red.

"You know... because of what you said last time?"

You stared at him for a second before you finally laughed, comprehending what he was referencing.

"Ethan, we can watch it at your dorm, it's fine. I trust you. I mean, as long as you don't mind?"

Ethan visibly gulped, his heart acting so wildly his chest was starting to hurt.

"No. No, I don't mind."

"Okay," you placed your hand on the door of your classroom, sending Ethan one last smile. "Text me," you said, as if he wouldn't have regardless.

「 ... 」

Ethan warned you that his shared dorm was small, but you didn't mind. Nothing could be as bad as yours.

Ethan's room was much more spacious than yours, considering he resided in a different building notoriously known for its larger spaces. Ethan and his roommate had a bathroom and a washer/dryer set right in their dorms along with a kitchen! To say you were jealous was an understatement - communal kitchens were your walking nightmare.

There was a lack of living room space, forcing you and Ethan to share his bed. He took a seat against the wall with his laptop and a variety of snacks respectfully placed between the two of you, creating a barrier you almost caught yourself wishing wasn't there. Ethan's roommate was the only thing missing from the picture, but you weren't curious enough to inquire; Ethan didn't mention him and you didn't weren't interested enough to care.

Ethan at least gave you the choice of starting the series with the first movie release-date wise or the first movie in the Star Wars time line. You didn't really know what that meant, so you chose what would hopefully be the less confusing one for you to grasp. You wondered, for a moment, if Ethan thought about watching the entire franchise with you. You wondered if you'd let him.

You took the time Ethan spent on loading up The Phantom Menace to look around his room, the distinction between his side and his roommate's made evident by Ethan's posters. They ranged from video games to movie posters and what you assumed were his favorite artists. You examined them carefully, trying to memorize each one. They seemed special, like a part of Ethan that you didn't know just yet.

Ethan tapped your shoulder softly, motioning towards his laptop screen, indicating the movie was ready to start. Ethan's smile was one of the most genuine you'd seen to date, parted lips showing off the perfect teeth that made you suspicious when he swore he'd never had braces. Some people are just born perfect.

No, you chided yourself, he's smiling this hard over Star Wars.

You laughed at your own thoughts. "You're such a nerd."

Ethan's smile faltered and panic took over your system. "I didn't mean - It's not bad -" You sighed in an attempt to compose yourself.

"It's cute." You stated finally, decisively, and Ethan's smile returned. He didn't say anything, which you were thankful for, instead pressing play on the movie. You could only hope the opening scene muffled the sound of your heart racing.

Star Wars wasn't as boring as you remembered, though you weren't sure how much of your excitement you could contribute to the actual movie when Ethan would make small comments every-so-often that would make you smile. Whether they were jokes, criticisms, or history about the scene, each one left you craving the sound of Ethan's voice, low and steady, in your ear again.

You weren't sure how you ended up so close to Ethan but everything about the scene was lulling you to sleep: the scent of fresh laundry mixing with a scent on Ethan's skin you couldn't quite place. the warmth he radiated against the creeping cold of the night, his smooth voice whispering stupid pieces of information in your ear, especially the lullaby of a movie in the background.

You drifted off at some unknown time despite your efforts to fight the heavy weight of sleep. You'd really tried to stay up to watch the movie in its entirety, to give it and Ethan's opinion of it a fighting chance, but your body wouldn't have it. Your head fell, finding a place on Ethan's shoulder rather uncomfortably considering his long torso. Ethan panicked for a moment once he realized the sudden weight on his shoulder was you, fast and peacefully asleep on him. It took him a few seconds to react as he sat there starting before he slumped down slowly, carefully guiding your head, trying to prevent you from straining your neck.

From what he could recall, there were about thirty minutes left of the movie. It was one of his favorite parts yet all Ethan could do was focus on your soft breaths and the way his heart pounded, hoping the loud thumping wouldn't wake you up.

The movie ended and Ethan's laptop joined you in sleep, leaving him stranded in the dark. He made no motion to move, however, choosing the ache that was starting to form in his back over disrupting your sleep. It was the most peaceful he'd ever seen you, so different from the witty comments you sent his way now that you two were... friends? 

Ethan wasn't sure what it was and he didn't want to think about it, considering it only came to be out of a stupid agreement. One that was almost up; only one more chance to be with you before the two of you either continued whatever you had going on or went your separate ways. For someone who strongly disliked you just a few weeks ago, Ethan suddenly had a hard time getting behind the idea of never speaking to you again. Never being close to you like this again.

Ethan sprang out of his thoughts as the door opened as loudly as it could've possibly sounded, breaking the soft silence that had encompassed the two of you. Chad's loud voice boomed throughout the small room - as if the door hadn't properly announced his arrival.

The sound woke you up and the presence of someone else jolted you away from Ethan as if you got caught doing something you shouldn't. Ethan's back was the only part of him that felt relieved, already missing the distinct scent of you.

"Shit, sorry, I didn't realize you had someone over," Chad said with a small laugh and Ethan tried his best not to be annoyed.

"I don't - It's not like that," Ethan insisted with a blush on his face as he shut his laptop.

"Yeah, sure," Chad sent you a wink and a small, awkward laugh escaped you. "I'm Chad."

You introduced yourself with a smile and Ethan couldn't help but glance between the two of you. Of course Chad had to be wearing one of his tightest shirts, one of the ones that showed off his array of bulging muscles. Ethan wondered if you preferred guys like him, a sudden urge to know your type bursting within him.

You checked your phone, a yawn interrupting you as you checked the time. "I should probably get back," you said to no one in particular, though your eyes were glancing at Ethan with a hopeful glance in your eyes.

"I'll walk you?" Ethan suggested, moving to get up off his bed.

You smiled and nodded and Ethan was relieved he'd finally gotten you right.

「 ... 」

"Sorry I fell asleep." You said sincerely on the walk back.

"Pfft. It's fine. You technically warned me."

"I promise I'll make it up to you."

"As long as it doesn't count towards our three hangouts." Ethan said it with a smile, yet it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"It'll be Hangout 2.5," you promised with a smile, though the thought of the end of your agreement with Ethan had been terrorizing you as much as it had him.

You were approaching your dorm now, the walk going by quicker than it would've without Ethan by your side; you suddenly wished you'd gotten assigned the furthest building from Ethan's.

"So, what'd you think of... Chad?" Ethan's words were slow yet sudden and in a tone you'd never heard him use before.

"Chad?" You asked, the information taking a moment before you realized you'd just met Chad less than 15 minutes ago. "Chad," you repeated, the name sounding strange on your tongue. "I think his name doesn't really suit him. He kind of looks like a James or something."

Ethan laughed, shaking his head at your comment.

"Why do you ask?"

"No reason."

You had a sneaking suspicion Ethan was lying, but lacked any solid evidence to back it up. Though his voice... it was different. Ethan either had a crush on you or had a crush on Chad. You could've believed the latter if Ethan spoke of his roommate more often and more fondly.

That only left one option: Ethan Landry had a crush on you.

It was a reach, you were sure. All the evidence against Ethan could be easily dismissed as him trying to get to know you, which he was. You shook the thought out of your head. There was no way he liked you.

But what if he did?

The two of you were stopped by your door now, Ethan waiting for your final comment of the night before making his way back. He looked at you with big eyes and a shy smile and you had the sudden urge to kiss him.

So you did.

Your lips made contact with Ethan's cheek, slowly and softly, inch by inch. You barely pressed your lips against his skin but you felt the effects immediately, face so warm it radiated. You pulled back and admired Ethan's embarrassed and partially confused smile.

"Thanks for walking me."

Ethan stood there, speechless, and you offered a final wave before opening the door and disappearing behind it.

Ethan stood there, speechless, as he processed what had just happened, if it was just a figment of his imagination.

He stayed there, speechless, as seconds ticked into minutes, confirming that yes, you had just kissed him goodnight.

Ethan's hand was glued to the spot on his cheek where your lips made contact with his cheek, fingertips ghosting over it in an attempt to replicate the feeling.

It was official. His grave was dug. Ethan Landry was totally fucked.

「 ... 」

You'd pretended like nothing had happened, unsure of how to deal with the consequences of your actions. There seemed to be no change in the nature of your relationship with Ethan and you weren't sure if you were grateful or not.

The next (and final) time Ethan invited you to hang out was his riskiest idea yet. He wanted you to travel into the city with him, something you'd always been too busy to do on your own. It was something you'd mentioned to him once or twice and you wondered if he only came up with the idea because of you.

Ethan was a self-proclaimed expert on the area immediately surrounding Blackmore's campus, challenging you to notify him of any cravings you had throughout the day, promising to fulfill your every wish.

He'd asked you to meet you at one of the local campus spots, a coffee shop to start off your adventure. Ethan was shocked when he learned you'd never visited it, insisting it was the best in the area despite its inconvenient location. You rolled your eyes but took his word for it.

You arrived at your destination early, basking in the warmth the small shop provided, sheltering you from the cold air outside. Perhaps it would be the perfect excuse to walk a little too close to Ethan today.

8:49 became 9:03 yet there was no sign of Ethan. It was strange, considering you two agreed on nine on the dot and Ethan was never late. Not when it came to you.

You tried to calm the beat of your heart with scrolling but the distraction didn't work for long. You kept swiping back to the message thread exchanged with Ethan, your message notifying Ethan of your arrival on... delivered.

He couldn't be ignoring you.

An hour passed and you sat in disbelief. You weren't sure why you waited, rifling for excuses that Ethan could possibly present. Excuses you'd accept in a heartbeat. One of the workers was starting to eye you and you were mortified. Ethan Landry had embarrassed you without even showing up.

Your confusion became anger as you picked up your stuff and walked out of the stupid shop, frustrated tears forming in your eyes. You were eerily reminded of that day with Ethan and you wondered with a cold laugh if this had been his plan all along.

Make you fall for him and then teach you a lesson? Did he get back to his room after you kissed him, laughing his head off? Was it that kiss that made him stand you up?

You wondered why you cared, before the agonizing realization that you cared about Ethan Landry struck you. You weren't sure when it happened or how you had allowed it to, but you guessed it didn't matter much now.

You were right about Ethan Landry.

Though, being right had never been so painful.

~

Your phone vibrated obnoxiously in your pocket and a feeling of dread overcame you as you turned it over. Ethan. The angry tears came back and you were far past accepting excuses. You'd left that idea in the shop, putting more distance between you and the last good things you thought of Ethan Landry with each quick stride.

You declined the call and it came in again and again, desperately. Your phone hovered over that red button, no longer giving Ethan a chance. You stopped walking, wiping your eyes as you clicked Ethan's contact. You had just begun furiously typing when you heard your name shouted distantly. Please, no.

Ethan was running towards you, dressed inappropriately for the weather. His hair was messy and his face was red. He gasped for breath once he reached you, his long legs aiding him in his goal while you stood there, unable to move.

“I'm so sorry, I fell asleep - “ Ethan's voice was deeper than usual, raspier. “It's not an excuse, and I'm sorry - “ Ethan stopped and turned to sneeze into the crook of his arm. He sneezed once, twice, three times. No wonder his voice sounded so different.

The coldness of your stature melted away with quick realization, though a hint of anger was still detectable in your voice.

“Jesus, Ethan, are you sick? You could've just told me.” You reached up to cup Ethan's face, pressing your hands against his cheeks and forehead. No fever, at least.

“I'm okay - “

“No, you're not.” The frustration was clear in your voice and Ethan decided it was best not to argue.

“I'm sorry.”

You sighed, taking off your jacket and throwing it around Ethan's shoulders, unsure of how effective the item would be. You wanted to sit there and scold him for coming out in cold weather with the lack of clothes he had on but the look in his eye told you it could wait. You took his hand and shoved it in your pocket as you led him back to where he came from, trying to make the walk back to his dorm quick. The trip with silent save for the occasional sniffles and sneezes, anger mixing with concern. You weren't sure what to feel, too many emotions overcoming you in too short of a time frame.

Ethan opened his dorm weakly, glancing at you as if expecting you to walk away. The rush of his departure was evident and only strengthened the feelings of guilt you carried for doubting Ethan. But what else were you supposed to think?

"Get changed," you ordered, looking disapprovingly at Ethan's current outfit.

You moved to the kitchen, searching for anything warm to make Ethan. He emerged from the bathroom in holiday pajamas, which you supposed where his warmest pair. Ethan folded up your jacket nervously, placing it on a stray table.

You forced him into bed, wrapping him up in as many layers as you could. You came over with a mug of tea, warning Ethan of its temperature before setting it down on his bedside table.

The silence was tense as you took a seat on the edge of Ethan's bed, both of you glancing at the other expectantly.

If Ethan was completely honest, he expected you to be angry. He could've taken more preventative measures to prevent what he'd done. The guilt at the thought of you sitting alone, waiting in vain for him made his chest hurt.

"I'm sorry," Ethan said with emotion cracking through his words.

"I'm not mad, Ethan," you shook your head, turning your body to face him properly.

"I would be. Or at least upset."

"Maybe I'm a little upset," you half-shrugged with a smile that warmed Ethan's heart.

Ethan laughed lightly, though the sweet sound became strained as his nose was blocked off completely, forcing Ethan to begin breathing through his mouth.

"Tissues?" You inquired, looking around the room to see if you could spot any.

"Don't have any," Ethan shook his head. "You should go, I don't want to get you sick." His voice, despite its hoarseness, was filled with sincerity.

You nodded your agreement and Ethan couldn't help but feel an ache as you walked out of his room.

~

You made the trek to the nearest convenience store, searching the aisles for anything Ethan may need. You went for the tissues and the medicine first, hesitating before you doubled back toward the snack aisle.

However, your plan wasn't exactly thought through. You stood, stumped, in front of Ethan's dorm with no way of getting it open.

Your solution walked up to you in jeans and a hoodie, the curious gaze of Chad inspecting the bags of groceries in your arms.

"Ethan's sick," you explained and the concern on Chad's face grew.

"With what?" Chad opened the door for the two of you, allowing you to step inside first.

"I think it's just a cold." You entered gratefully, setting the bags down on the small, shared kitchen counter. You glanced back at Chad, who was looking over Ethan while keeping his distance as much as he could.

Ethan had become one with his blankets, rolled over against the wall. At least he was getting some rest.

"Here, let me help you with that," Chad offered, observing the way you struggled to find the correct places for each item.

You thanked him, setting aside a box of tissues and some medicine for Ethan once he woke up.

"So," Chad began and although you barely knew him, the teasing tone of his voice made you suspicious of what he would say next. "You and Ethan?"

You couldn't tell if it was a question or a statement or an invitation to let Chad in on something he was missing.

"We're just friends," you insisted despite the warmth of your cheeks and the smile fighting its way onto your face.

"Just friends don't look at each other like that."

You could've brought up the fact that Chad had barely even seen you and Ethan interact but you knew there was no point in arguing. A part of you didn't want to, anyways.

"Do you like him? Honestly?" You weren't sure which inflection gave it away; Chad cared for Ethan despite the distance in their relationship. Learning to live together had done them a favor, after all.

"I do," you confessed quietly, a part of you wondering why you'd done it to essentially a complete stranger.

Chad just smiled, a wide one that only solidified your earlier theory.

"I think he does too."

You shrugged despite yourself, the cycle of your memories occasionally bringing up the beginning of your relationship with Ethan Landry despite how much you'd grown from then.

"You should go," you began after a few moments of silence. "I can take care of him."

Chad complied easily, commenting that he had work to get done anyway. You suspected it was a lie.

There was movement from Ethan's bed and you moved towards its source, bottle of medicine and tissues in hand.

Ethan was suddenly awake now, pink cheeks grinning like he had just won the lottery.

"Are you that excited about tissues...?" You wondered out loud with a small, nervous laugh.

"Chad was right," Ethan blurted and terror struck you as you realized he heard.

"I do like you."

Emotions hit you one after the other, disbelief the most prominent of all.

"I thought you were asleep."

"I'm really glad I wasn't."

"Asshole."

"Hey, you can't be mean to me while I'm sick. I get a pass."

"Just wait until you're better," you threatened emptily.

Ethan's lips curved into a small pout, flushed face only serving to make him look cuter despite the circumstances.

"I really want to kiss you right now," he confessed unsteadily.

"Absolutely not. We have a test on Thursday and I'm not missing it," you retorted, Ethan's light laughter flooding your ears.

"That was my plan all along. Get you sick so I can finally redeem myself," Ethan joked but something in your eyes flickered and he worried he said the wrong thing.

"I'm sorry, I was kidding - "

Ethan's stammering was interrupted by the sweet sound of your laughter, relief spreading through his body.

You leaned down to press a kiss to Ethan's forehead. You quickly moved to press kisses to other empty spots of Ethan's face, no longer denying yourself the urge to pepper his face like you had so many times before.

You weren't sure how you wound up here, taking care of the boy you swore you'd hated, kissing him until he smiled despite the pain he was in. It was an accident, a series of events neither of you had predicted or expected. What began as a trade-off became an ordeal that had trapped both your hearts and refused to let go until the two of you complied.

The warmth of Ethan Landry had overcome you, though it was not too much to bear. It was just the right temperature to comfort you in the cold and shine in the summer. Ethan Landry was wide smiles and soft touches, not at all arrogant like you had initially assumed. He was the feeling of a shirt fresh out of the dryer, comforting you through every inch of your being.

That was just the beginning of what you knew about him. You weren't done exploring all of Ethan Landry and he wasn't done with you. Each misconception held had dissolved and become something else, an invitation to continue learning about each other. You weren't sure what this was or what it would become, but you took the lesson the world wanted to teach you and ran with its potential. If your happiness came because of Ethan Landry, who were you to refuse?

"I know," you whispered, placing a gentle kiss to Ethan's head. The first of many, you were sure.

And for the first time, the two of you understood each other perfectly.

One of the things that pisses me off most about this genocide and overall occupation is how many people say it's so complicated and there's so much nuance and there isn't one easy solution. This is one of the simplest things I have ever seen. Zionists invaded palestine in 1947-48. They have occupied it for 76 years while taking more and more land. They kidnap and torture and massacre Palestinians day in day out for those 76 years. They control every aspect of Palestinian life, including their water and medical care. And now they are committing another genocide against them. Where is the complication? What is hard to understand? "Well, Jewish people need a place where they won't be discriminated against" I absolutely agree. So make every country in the world safe for Jewish people. Fight against anti Semitism across the world. Don't commit a genocide and set up an ethnostate.

fr tho why is everything smut😭😭 i wanna read angst that would ruin me, make me sick to my stomach and cry like there's no tomorrow bro i want a fanfic that is so devastating that i won't be able to function for the next few months