Sophie Thatcher As NAT SCATORCCIO   Yellowjackets ◆ 2x02 “Edible Complex”

me all day, every day

Somethin about puppy dog eyes.

all up in smoke

masterlist

pairing: frank castle x f!reader

summary: based on the prompt: 'sit on my lap and let's smoke a joint'

warnings: alcohol, weed (rolling a joint, smoking, shotgunning), frank being a cute little whore, heavy petting/teasing but no sex, high epiphanies (mostly fluff!)

a/n: happy late birthday to the ever lovely @chelseasdagger , this one is for you babeyyyyy 💗

Home is a solace on your lips as you step inside, your keys joining the others in the bowl by the front door. Despite the events of your day, still fresh in your mind, you feel the knotted tension in your body begin to dissipate, the pressure easing in your temples. The few lights that have been left on are dimmed, filling the house with the kind of ambient coziness you’ve been longing for all day. 

You round the corner, and there he is on the couch: feet kicked up on the coffee table, immersed in a hardcover book you swore he’d never touch. A pang of emotion stirs in your stomach — a cross between yearning and consolation; something you just can’t place, but are grateful for nevertheless. 

“Hi, Frankie,” you smile, drawing the curtains open, letting the cool night air filter into the living room. 

He lifts an eyebrow, glancing up at you from behind the book. “Hey, sweetheart. Long day?”

You stretch your arms over your head, nevermind that his voice stirs something in you, and set your bag up on the kitchen counter. “Mmhm. Glad to be home.”

Frank leans forwards, fingers closing around the drink he’s left on the coffee table. His eyes flick to yours as he takes a sip, caring not to break contact, before jerking his chin at the bottle of scotch next to your bag. “You want some of that?”

He points at you, clicking his tongue as you move to pick the bottle up. “Don’t move. Stay right there.” Setting his book aside, the pages splayed face-down onto the table, he makes his way over, utterly impervious to your flurried attempts in getting him to remain where he is.

“D’ya really think I’d let you pour your own drink?” Frank says, looking affronted, but a furtive smile spreads along his face as you shake your head.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Let me take care of ‘ya,” he adds, delicately.

Carting you gently to the side, he digs around in the freezer, reaching for a couple of ice cubes that clink mellifluously in the glass. You watch intently as they bob in line with the whiskey streaming in, and then as he inspects the amber liquid closely, as if to examine its quality. 

When he’s satisfied, he turns to you, and raises the rim of the glass to your mouth. “Here,” Frank murmurs, condensation collecting around his fingertips. “Drink up.”

You shudder as the whiskey cascades hotly through your veins — each note of pepper, caramel and nutmeg lingering on the surface of your tongue like molten honey. You swallow another mouthful before pushing the glass away, not taking your eyes off of him for a second as he sets it down.

Frank runs his tongue over his teeth, raking his eyes across your face. He focuses on a stray drop of whiskey at the corner of your mouth, using a knuckle to brush it away. Your heart thunders at his calloused touch; as he pauses to swipe his broad thumb over your bottom lip. There’s a faint throbbing within you — a wild drumbeat steering you towards nothing but desire — so you flick your tongue out, circling his fingertip, relishing in his taste of salt, earth and whiskey.   

He lets out a soft groan, mumbling something that sounds like your name; maybe even a plea to slow down. You’re attentive, knowing he doesn’t want this night over yet, that he wants to wait before taking you to bed. 

It’s a good thing then, that you have something planned. 

You inch forwards, swallowing as Frank’s hand sweeps over the contours of your face, coming to rest at a spot near your ear. He tips your chin upwards, letting his ragged breathing fan over you. He stalls, allowing his dark eyes to bore into yours, and for a moment you forget where you are, the stressors of the day long gone.

All you know is him. 

His beard prickles your skin as he captures your mouth with his own, but you lean into the kiss, savouring his ardent warmth. He moves with you, deepening the kiss as you slide a hand into his hair, curling your fingers at the nape. Your thighs squeeze together as he pivots you around, pushing you against the counter while his tongue melts against yours. Using his leg to knock your knees apart, you arch into his touch, gasping as the bulge in his jeans settles where you need him the most. 

You won’t be able to stop if you don’t pull away now.

“Frank,” you whisper. “Frank.”

He looks at you, placing a small kiss to your jaw. “Mm?” 

“Before… uh,” you start, lightheaded and fuzzy, unable to comprehend anything but the heady weight of the whiskey and the ache between your legs. “I've got something for us. A little surprise. And I think,” you indicate, wagging a finger from him to you, “we should save this for later.”

He arches his eyebrows, smiling inquisitively. “Yeah? And what’s that?” 

You step aside to rummage through your bag, taking only a few seconds for you to find what it is you’re looking for. You hold up a clear plastic container, giving it a little shake in front of Frank’s face. His eyes widen in comprehension.

“God, I love you.” 

“Hey,” you smirk, “not God. Just me.” 

He chokes on his own laughter, draining the last of your whiskey. “You got it, sweet girl.”

You bite down on your growing smile. “Anyway, I was thinking the plan could go something like… get a little high, have some fun. You know what I mean, right?”

“S’that right?”

“We both deserve it.”

“You need some help with that?” he asks, pointing at the rolling papers you’ve set down on the counter. 

“Nope. Walk away.” 

You’re an image of rapt focus with your tongue between your teeth, cautiously grinding the weed before packing it into the rolling paper. You slip a filter on one end of the joint, and using your thumb and forefingers, you roll it into place. Bringing the free edge of rolling paper up to your mouth, you skirt your tongue along the narrow strip of glue, quickly moving to seal the joint. 

You shoot Frank a resolute look of determination. “Not bad, huh?” 

He folds his arms over his chest, leaning back into the couch. Almost hidden in the tangle of his beard, the corners of his mouth tick upwards. You can’t quite tell if he’s astonished, impressed, or a mixture of everything in between, but the expression on his face is a priceless ego boost. “Attagirl.”

“Mmhm,” you reply drily, admiring your handiwork from up close.

“Baby?” Frank calls, breaking your tethered focus. A glimmer of a smile in your periphery catches your eye.

“Yeah?” 

There’s a sound of rustling fabric as Frank spreads his legs, motioning you over to him by patting his thigh. “C’mere.”

Your gaze softens at his request. “That sounds good, Frankie. Let me grab my lighter.”

“Got it right here,” Frank chuckles, holding it up and thumbing it open.

Twirling the joint in your fingers, you meander over to his spot on the couch, watching the tiny orange flame dance in his eyes as he holds down the lighter button. 

He’s a solid comfort under you as you sit down on his lap, shuffling back until the side of your body is angled to his chest, using the armrest as additional support. His scent is a blissful, pacifying force – distilling in you where it matters. 

Frank wrests the joint from your grip, assiduous in the way he places it between your lips, then as he lights it for you. The lit end glows as the papered edges begin to burn, flickering in its reflection in the window ahead. You take a drag, letting the smoke fill your mouth before inhaling it into your lungs. Maybe it’s in your head, but your body feels lighter already; even more so as you exhale. 

The grey-tinged smoke remains opaque for only a second, vanishing into the air as soon as you pass the joint to Frank. You breathe out again, more deeply this time, allowing the grassy, herbal scent of the weed wash over you in waves of tranquil calm.

You cock your head to the side, studying the normally terse man before you leisurely smoking the joint, taking two drags instead of one. Gratitude forms a lump in your throat — nights like these are rare, and to see him so carefree, his mind unoccupied by the workings of the larger world, is a luxury you’ll never get tired of. 

After tapping the gathering ashes into his empty whiskey glass, Frank hands the joint back to you, closing his eyes while he waits for your next pass. As the weed-induced euphoria starts to take effect, you wrench one of Frank’s hands from its spot on your thigh, interlacing your fingers together. You take your time in mapping his knuckles, tracing over every crease, scar and perfect imperfection. 

You tap on Frank’s shoulder, wanting him as a credible witness for a successful smoke ring, but like all your past attempts, it morphs back into a cloud, hanging there in contempt. 

He laughs softly, putting you right to shame with a series of flawless rings that fall forwards in an arc towards the coffee table. 

You giggle, jabbing him in the chest with an expertly-placed elbow. “Don’t get too cocky now, Castle.”

His mouth quirks to the side. “Yeah? What are you gonna do, hm?”

“I’ll…” you search around the room for something to say. “I’ll withhold sex!” 

He gasps, feigning an expression of outrageous offense. “That’s cruel, darlin’.”

Laughing, you reassure him you wouldn’t, really, but he takes the opportunity to soar through the cracks of your defense, hauling you backwards until his face is flush with the shell of your ear. “Really think you could resist it? Not havin' sex?” 

The retorts crumble away as he tells you to ‘open up, sweetheart’, lifting the joint back to his lips. He breathes in deeply, turning his head to then exhale the smoke into your parted mouth. Your eyes roll back as he seals it with a kiss, and it catches you a little by surprise, but you run with it, inhaling as much as you can.

Not quite ready to let go of your earlier comments, Frank does it again, shotgunning into your mouth until you're left with nothing but a dreamy expression and no thoughts left in your mind.

You let out a contented sigh as the weed goes to your head, absentmindedly rubbing the spot where his beard scratched your lip. 

Eyes drooping, Frank wraps his arms tightly around you, holding you as close as he can, trailing kisses along your shoulder blades, down your arm, whispering sweet nothings and notes of ‘I love you’ until you slacken in his grip. You touch your lips to his forehead, now resting in the crook of your neck, his steady breathing keeping you anchored to your reality.

The next hour passes by in a haze — you’re mildly aware that there was another joint rolled in that time, courtesy of Frank, probably, but your memory retains the best parts: the giddy, high epiphanies, the smoke-filled kisses, the long-drawn-out touches… the fact that his skin has never felt so soft.

Exceptionally and utterly stoned, you move, draping your legs over his lap, clinging onto his neck so you can bury your face in his shirt – so spaced out that you barely register him talking. 

“...Who the fuck is “Drake” anyway?” 

“What?!” you sputter, snickering as if it’s the funniest thing you’ve ever heard. “He’s a rapper, Frankie.” 

“He’s off limits, so don’t even try” — you stumble over your words — “enacting your justice or… whatever.”

Frank frowns at you, pressing his lips into a thin line. 

And then he bursts into laughter. Unequivocal, heaving sobs of hysterical laughter. And it might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard. 

“Enacting my justice? That what you think it is?” he howls, bringing his fist down onto the couch. “You really think I’ve got nothin’ better to do than hunt down rappers?!”

“A little bit,” you sniffle, wiping away the tears of joy streaming down your face. “You know who’d love this conversation?” 

He shakes his head as you continue. “Micro.”

“Micro,” he nods, affirming your point. “Bet he’d know more about “Drake” than me.”

You chortle at his aggressive hand gestures. “You don’t need air-quotations every time you say Drake, you know.”

He waves a hand in the air. “Ahh, I know.”

“Frank Castle,” you say, kissing his cheek once, then twice, “I think this is the wisest you’ve ever been.”

“Oh, c’mon. Really?”

You gesture at the stub of your second joint, floating in the bottom of his whiskey glass. “Yep. You might have to do this more.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me, sweetheart.”

“Better me than what’s out there. Right, Frank?” you croon, batting your eyes at him.

“S’right, darlin’. That’s right.”

tags {x} @darlingshane @castlesnchurches @reborn-rekall @marvelswh0re @itwasthereaminuteago @simple-lovebot @chvoswxtch @pedrito-friskito @chellestrash @theradioactivespidergwen @twilightbarnes @splendiferous-bitch @bl4ckpr1ncess @kaybeeboop @kdogreads @swearwolf13 @rqgnarok @qu1etwolf @honeyedheartss @runa-falls @whistle1whistle @awkwardalie

random but i want to cuddle lottie bc i think she would be the best at it and so warm and hold you close

Oh, absolutely! That’s sounds so nice right about now, lol

Lottie definitely runs hot naturally, so perfect for the cooler month but not so much in the summer. I think she’d like holding hands while cuddling or having her hand rest right over you chest to she can feel your heartbeat. I think she’s probably a big spoon bc she had a better time feeling when you get up that way and she naturally settles her cheek against your shoulder when she sleeps

Closer

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 4.4k

summary: You reveal a secret about your sexual preferences to Arthur when liquor has loosened your lips. Later and sober, he brings it up again, and you find yourself in ecstasy with the idea of being edged.

a/n: I wrote this in one day. idk where it came from, sorry not sorry. High honor Arthur loves consent and so do i, here we go!

warnings: nsfw, 18+, smut, minors dni (edging, receiving oral, vaginal sex, you get the idea)

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow

Arthur has opted not to drink tonight. Just a week ago he had taken Lenny to the saloon for a quiet night out, and woken up a day later in jail. He doesn't feel like drinking for a long while. You on the other hand, have had your fill and then some. Sean had been safely returned home earlier in the day, and Hosea had come back with a wagon full of liquor to celebrate. At this point, Arthur has lost count of the number of times you and John have passed the whiskey crate around the fire. Arthur chuckles as you sing along to Javier's song, glancing at him every once in a while. You've been staring at Arthur in between the lyrics, and there's a blaze in your eyes, a heat in your gaze that tells him exactly what you're thinking about. 

Javier's song crescendos to an end, and everyone laughs, hooping and hollering, except for you. You instead are staring at Arthur, biting your lip lightly before leaning down to the whiskey crate, pulling a bottle from it and holding it in your hands as if it's.. something else. You're driving him mad, especially as you squeeze your thighs together, unbuttoning the first few buttons of your shirt, just to get rid of the heat, of course. 

Arthur tries to keep his eyes off you, because your relationship is pretty new and you've only slept together a handful of times. Though they ended up on his list of best nights, he feels it would be a disservice to eye you like this, especially with your drunken state. 

He can't help it though, and some sweat runs down his temple as he rearranges himself to lessen the strain of his cock pressing up against his jeans. Your cleavage is kept hidden from him by your shirt, but the open buttons reveal the beginning of the swell of your breasts, and he wants nothing more than to kiss the sweet flesh there. 

The times you've laid with him you were a bit shy, nervously covering certain areas of your body with your hands. Usually he has to reassure you, coax you from your shell a bit to remove you from your self consciousness. That feeling is gone now. The alcohol has made you brave, bold as you trail your fingers from your knee to your thigh. It's just subtle enough to drive him mad, but anyone else who didn't know your intentions would think nothing of it. Arthur squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, thinking of anything to get his erection to go down. He opens his eyes when he feels your hand on his, and you start pulling him away from the fire. 

"Come on, cowboy." You tease, pulling him towards his covered wagon. Your voice is slurred with drunkenness, and your steps are stumbling. It's then that Arthur realizes just how drunk you are. 

"You tired?" Arthur asks as you pull him into his tent. He's hoping you'll say yes, because he can't give you this tonight, not until you're sober. It would be a disservice to you, not to mention that he's sober, and it would feel wrong. 

"Nope." You whisper, turning towards him with sparkling, half-lidded eyes. Then you lean up and intertwine your fingers into his hair, kissing him. It's drunk and sloppy, but Arthur isn't complaining. Your lips taste like whiskey as you devour him, saving no room for delicacy or the coy demeanor you usually have. Your lips slot against his breathily and with hunger as you press yourself up against him. You can feel his hardness pressing into your hip, twitching as you release his hair with one hand to undo the buttons of your blouse. 

You shove him back lightly, and he lies down on the bed, looking up to you. He concludes that something has taken over you, it must have with the way your actions have flipped from coy to bold. He loves you so much, he wants you, but he can't do this, not while you're drunk. Then you're sitting on top of him. Your blouse is gone, and your jeans have been unzipped the whole way down, leaving nothing to desire because you haven't worn any underclothes. This in itself causes Arthur to curse, and his skin blazes with a burn that only you can create and quell. You're looking down to him, panting. Your pupils are blown, and messy waves fall around your face. You look like some goddess, something divine that he doesn't deserve, surely. His cock aches in his jeans and if something doesn't happen soon, he's going to embarrass himself greatly. 

"Sweetheart-" Arthur is cut off by his own groan as you smile, grinding yourself against his hips. His head tosses back as he thrusts his hips up against you, and you've never been more proud than now, watching him under you. You lean down to kiss his lips again, but you stop, just inches away from his face. He hesitates, breathing hotly as you stare at his lips, then up to his eyes.

"T-take me, Arthur." You whisper, kissing his lips while intertwining your tongues before pulling away again. A clarity pokes through the fog of alcohol as you look into his eyes again. 

"I want you to draw it out. I want you all night, over and over, and over again." You whimper, leaning down to kiss his neck. Arthur can't tell if he's ascended to the heavens or if this is real. He's not sure where his sweet, shy girl has gone, or how she's been replaced by this wanton dominatrix, but he isn't complaining. You kiss up to his earlobe, grinding yourself against him again, moaning in his ear at the slight friction. Then, lips pressed against his ear, you whisper. 

"You know that moment? That moment when you're so close that even the smallest touch will send you over the edge?" 

Arthur nods lightly, losing his composure while his hands grip your hips tightly. 

"That's the best part." 

Arthur's eyes slip closed and he groans. You're so foul-mouthed while drunk, and it's delirious, something he never knew could be so damn attractive. 

"Take me there. Take me there, Arthur and torture me." You beg, just a breath in his ear. 

"Christ alive, sweetheart." Arthur groans, never having seen you so… unhinged. Drunkenness has loosened your lips, and your limbs, and it's then that he remembers his promise to himself. 

You're drunk, and he's not. Having you like this right now would be taking advantage of you. He wants to give you everything you could ever ask for and then some, but only when you're sober. His length throbs against his jeans, and as much as he wants to have you right now, he can't. He could never forgive himself if you woke up upset with him. With a sigh, and a bittersweet smile, Arthur looks up to your lust driven eyes. 

"I can't." Arthur states apologetically, peeling your warm, beautiful body from his. You pull back from him with a shocked expression, and your eyebrows string together forming a tight little crease that he wishes to wipe away from your worried face. His features soften sadly at your expression, and his thumb rubs against your cheek.

"What?" You ask, confused, and a little embarrassed. You hadn't expected him to reject you. Although you'd never ask him to partake if he doesn't want to, you're still a little hurt that he's pushing you away. Suddenly some of the anxiety seeps through into your drunken state, and you wonder if it's your body, or your alcohol ridden lips that have caused him to push you away. You blush, embarrassed, but Arthur only takes your hand in his own, encasing it.

"I'm sorry darlin, I can't. You can't hardly stand up right now, let alone make decisions like this one. N' we're still new to this. I don't want you wakin' up tomorrow, sober, and regrettin this." He whispers, brushing a few strands of hair behind your ear. Despite all that he's just said, your foggy brain fixates on three little insignificant words. 

"Y-you dont… You don't want me?" You sigh, hurt and tired and seeing double. Arthur can only chuckle on account of how wrong you are. But whatever altered state of mind you're in that could convince you that he somehow doesn't want you is exactly why he can't go through with this. 

"Oh I want you, alright. But you ain't in the state of mind to be acceptin' that invitation right now." Arthur explains, and you feel a weight slip off your shoulders. 

"Oh." You nod, disappointed, and aching for his touch. But nonetheless, you trust his judgment, even if you don't understand it right now. Sighing, you lay down flat on him, chest to chest. He wraps his arms around you, pressing kisses up to your forehead. It's then that you realize how tired you are, and the way the room seems to spin a little. A question raises itself in your lips, and you prop your chin on his chest to look down at him. 

"But you do want me right?" You ask, just checking. You're not exactly sure what you've just talked about, or what happened. And you're already falling asleep as Arthur answers.

"Yes, darlin." Arthur chuckles, sliding you off of him so that he can lay with you properly. You fall in line with him, back pressed against his chest as he spoons you. 

"Hey, Arthur?" You mumble, eyes closed as you breathe slower and slower, relaxing into his arms. 

"Sweetheart, go to sleep."  Arthur mumbles, one arm snaking around your waist whilst the other lies under your head. 

"Okay but just one thing." You implore, turning around in his arms so that you can nuzzle into his toasty warm chest. Arthur huffs, amused, and so in love that it aches in his bones.

"Go on." 

"Can we try again?" You ask, pressing a chaste kiss to his neck. 

"Yes, we can try again if you want, but first you gotta go to sleep." Arthur chuckles, rubbing his hand up and down your back. You're satisfied enough with that, and you nuzzle into him again with a drunken smile on your lips. 

— — — — 

Two nights later, your hangover is gone. You'd spent the previous day aching, throwing up and sleeping for the most part. Arthur had stayed with you all day, taking care of you. You were grateful, but a little frustrated that he wouldn't let you do anything. Tonight is better, and you lie in bed, unable to sleep. Arthur has been snoring behind you for some time now, but you can't stop thinking about the party. Mostly because you don't remember it. You'd woken up in Arthur's bed, shirtless with your pants completely unzipped, hungover. But you have no recollection, besides what Arthur told you. He had assured you that nothing happened, not that you would have minded. You're just wondering if you made a fool out of yourself, or embarrassed yourself in some way. You sigh, sitting up in bed.

 You can't help but look down at Arthur and his unworried, sleeping expression. With a warm, loving smile, you lean down and press a little kiss to his cheek. Arthur startles, eyes blinking open quickly as he looks up at you. He's shocked for a moment, then worried as he quickly leans up on his elbows.

"Darlin? What's wrong? Why're you up?" He asks, sitting up fully. You feel awful, never meaning to have woken him up. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." You mumble as he pulls you towards his chest, enveloping you into his arms. 

"S'okay, what's goin' on?" 

Arthur's arms are so warm, so big, you could be swallowed up by them entirely and remain content. 

"I just can't believe how much I drank the other night." You sigh, shaking your head in horror. Arthur nods, chuckling lightly as you pull away from him. He takes both of your hands in his own and holds them in his lap. 

"Yeah me neither." Arthur swallows thickly, looking up to you with a question. "You uh- you remember anything you said to me that night?" Arthur asks, and your skin goes pale. 

"No. Oh no, what did I say?" You ask, afraid you'd hurt his feelings or said something you shouldn't have. You wince, dipping your head as you await his response. Arthur pulls your chin up with his finger, coaxing you to meet his eyes as you shiver. 

"Practically jumped me, darlin. Put on quite a show, then you asked me to 'take you, all night long' and the kicker, you asked me to edge you. In fact, you said it was the best part. Asked me to 'take you there n' torture you', if I remember correctly." Arthur says nonchalantly, and you recoil. You're horrified by what you've said, and though it's all true, you can't believe you spoke it so plainly, so early into your relationship. 

"Oh, that's embarrassing, Arthur I'm so sorry." You wince, head falling into your hands. 

Instead of judging you, or mocking you, Arthur lightly pulls you towards him. His lips find the crook of your neck, and he starts kissing there, slow and patient and hot. Your breathing quickens, and you crane your neck to give him better access. Your heart races, you still can't believe he's here, he's yours. He lightly pulls some of your skin between his teeth, and it hurts in the best way as you yelp.  He runs his tongue over the spot to soothe it.

Then, one of his hands snakes up your shirt, and he teases your breasts as you moan. His lips move right against your ear as he whispers. 

"Is it..? The best part?" Arthur asks right against your ear. You blush, not wanting to respond from the embarrassment. He pulls away, cocking his head at your silence.

"Darlin, don't get shy on me now." Arthur chuckles, watching with an intensity as you bite your lip, smirking at him. 

"Yes, it’s the best part. For me anyway, I know it's different for everyone.” You whisper, and then squeak as Arthur quickly pushes you down against the bed, towering over you. Arthurs fingers trail up your hips, you're not wearing anything under your chemise and he growls. He pulls the chemise over your arms and tosses it down on the floor, smirking at the little gasps that leave you. Towering above you, Arthur takes a moment to drink you in. He’s seen you like this before, but only on a few occasions.

“Y’know,” Arthur says, stopping to press a kiss to your breast, “I did make you a promise.” Arthur whispers on your skin. Your hands tangle into his hair as you arch your back, searching for more of his lips against you. 

“And what’s that promise?” You exhale, wrapping your legs around him. Arthur moves downwards, and your breath hitches in your throat.  

“Promised you we’d try it.” He says, and your pupils dilate. Your legs loosen some, faltering around him as you sit up on your elbows. Arthur stands up from the bed, smirking down at you while pulling his clothes off quickly. 

“Ain’t gonna be too comfortable with these on.” He explains gruffly, before crawling back on the bed and leaning over you. A piece of his hair falls down, dangling over your face that you brush behind his ear to better see him. 

“Just remember, you asked for this. Beg all you want darlin, I’m takin’ my time.” He growls, and you shudder underneath him. He rests between your knees, spreading them while latching on to your hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. 

Arthur wasn’t exaggerating. He starts painfully slow, kissing your hip and thumbing your thigh. He presses love bites on the inside of your thighs, and you whimper, bucking your hips upwards to try and get him where you need him. 

“Patience.” Arthur growls, the soft flesh of your thigh in between his lips. After a few moments more, you’re squirming, sweating and whining for his touch between your legs. One of his hands reaches up to flick at your nipple slowly, and your back arches. 

“Arthur, please, please touch me already.” You whine, hips fidgeting as he runs his finger featherlight over your lower lips. He has to stop and gather his control from the way you whine his name, fidgeting and arching underneath him. But after a deep breath he gives you what you want.

Arthur leans in to you, and you feel his nose brush against your heat as he just lightly brushes his tongue over your already sensitive clit. You gasp, clenching your muscles as he releases. 

“Oh, Arthur come on, please.” You whimper, and he smirks with satisfaction. His fingers run down your opening, and he stops, groaning when he feels how wet you are. His cock is pressing hard into his mattress, but he ignores it, focusing on you. A finger teases your entrance, and then ever so slowly sinks in to you. He doesn’t move it, watching as you buck your hips to get something. 

“Like I said, you asked for this.” Arthur says, curling his finger just a tiny bit before slipping it out. 

“Fu- I know!” You sort of yell, pulling an amused chuckle out of Arthur. You’re somewhere in between mad and pleased with yourself for suggesting this, but Arthur has no plans on rushing that decision. 

“Yeah, you like this. Don't Cha' sweetheart?” Arthur observes, watching as your hands grip at the sheets when he slips two fingers back in, curling them slowly. 

“God- please go faster Arthur.” 

“Nuh uh, not gonna happen, darlin.” Arthur states before lightly flicking your clit with his tongue, stopping as soon as you start to moan. You cry out, frustrated, gripping his hair, and the sheets and anything as your abdomen clenches and you try to find friction against something. And then in a heartbeat, his lips are on your clit, suctioning and flicking and it’s heavenly. Your back lifts from the mattress as you moan, covering your mouth to keep the Van der Linde’s from hearing you. 

“Oh, like that, Oh my god Arthur-” You moan, bucking your hips against his face as he curls his fingers in you, hitting all of your sweet spots at the same time. No ones ever touched you like this, and he’s turned you into a whimpering, moaning mess. This is just as addicting for him as it is for you, and when he feels your hips start to buck and the clenching of your walls around his fingers, he knows you’re close. It's risky to keep pushing you, but he goes just a few seconds longer, drawing out your ecstasy. You’re stepping over the edge of a cliff, just ready to fall, and then Arthur pulls you back, slipping his fingers out of you and releasing your clit.

“No no no no no, Arthur, no please.” You whimper and cry, feeling so empty from the lack of him. 

“Darlin, I’m sorry. You asked for this.” Arthur mumbles, feeling bad for torturing you like this, but he knows the release will be worth it. He doesn't leave you feeling empty for long, and soon his thumb is rubbing tight, slow circles over your clit. With his mouth unoccupied, he keeps his thumb on your clit, leaning over you. 

“That feel good, darlin?” Arthur asks, watching the way your face slips into pure ecstasy when his fingers stop and continue to touch you. He chuckles lightly, deep in his chest, “Yeah it does, look atcha.” 

Your nails dig into his forearm, feeling the flexing of his muscles as he works at your clit, touching you just right. He leans down to your chest, taking a nipple into his mouth and nipping it, flicking his tongue over the hard peak. You gasp, breaths loud and quick as you feel yourself closing in on an orgasm. You’re in that spot, when it's just about to hit and the heavenly way your body shudders and moans signals so to Arthur. 

“Right here, this what you like darlin? Feelin’ like this?” Arthur asks, watching as you nod, face drawn up as you gasp. Arthur presses a chaste kiss to your chest, stilling the rhythm of his fingers. You cry out in frustration. You were so close, and in the absence of his fingers a few tears drip down your face as you cry out.

“I can’t- I can’t take much more Arthur, please, please!” You whimper, shuddering underneath him, so fragile that a simple brush of skin could push you over the edge that he just will not grant you. Your core aches for release, your mind clouded with the fog of so much pressure that it blurs your vision. He’s going to make you pass out.

He parts your legs again, but this time settles his hips between them. Gasping and panting, you dig your heels into him, needing him in you so desperately that you can scream. Slowly, he pushes himself in just past the tip, groaning at how drenched you are. He’s had plenty of time to wind you up, and a mess of slick is on your thighs, him and the bed, it's a mess.

“Shit sweetheart.” Arthur huffs, leaning down on his elbows to kiss your forehead. Your arms wrap around to his back, and you pull him down to you, leaving red marks on his shoulders. 

“Move, Arthur, I need you to move.” 

And oh, he does. 

Arthur groans, sliding in fully. He takes a breath before slowly pulling the rest of the way out. He sets a steady pace, rolling his hips into you so slow and hard that every thrust hits your cervix and you gasp from the pleasure of it all. You grip onto him, digging your nails into his back as you lift your hips to meet his. You’re so close, teetering, but you try to keep your reactions muted so he doesn’t stop. Arthur’s eyes are on you, watching as your breasts bounce with every thrust, and the way your face is drawn up as you bite your lip so hard it starts to bleed. He smirks, knowing exactly what you’re keeping from him. 

“That’s my good girl, takin’ me so good. So beautiful.” Arthur murmur, hands planted on either side of your head. He picks up his pace, just a bit, thrusting into you fast enough that you barely have enough time to recover from him hitting your sweet spot before he's coming back into you again. 

“Oh, Arthur!” You moan, unable to hold it back anymore. 

“That's it sweetheart, let it go, you can have it.” Arthur growls, feeling a tightening in his abdomen.

“Oh, Fuck, Arthur, Oh please don’t stop-” You pant, and Arthur smiles at your foul mouth, something only liquor can pull out of you, and his touch apparently.

His hand reaches down in between your bodies, raking over your clit just enough for it to send you over the edge finally. A strew of gasps, moans and curses fall from your swollen lips as your abdomen clenches, your walls constricting around Arthur with every thrust of his. It's unlike anything you’ve ever experienced, and you actually scream. Your usual waves of pleasure have been replaced by a tsunami, and all you can do is gasp and pull Arthur closer to you. Arthur is barely hanging on at this point, fighting with everything he has to let you finish before he does. But you look so damn beautiful, grabbing him everywhere and yelling his name out in between strangled moans. Your toes curl, and your thighs clench around his waist so tightly that he struggles to keep pace. 

“Easy, that's my girl, you’re alright.” Arthur coos, still pounding into you as you start to come down. You can already feel the ache in your hips as they slow from bucking against Arthur hastily. You whimper, returning from your heightened state just as Arthur groans deeply a few times. His hands clench tightly around the pillows by your head as he slips out of you just in time. Panting for the breath that you’ve been holding, you reach up to run your fingers through his stubble, watching the way his face draws up and he gasps and groans, spilling his seed over your stomach. Exhausted, he rests his forehead against your own. 

“Holy shit, Arthur.” You breathe out, chuckling lightly at how quickly the whole situation played out. There's a residual ache in your thighs, hips and stomach, and a few bruises on your hips from Arthur’s hands. 

“You were right.” Arthur mumbles, arms shaking from holding himself up above you. He kisses your hair before he stands up, grabbing a rag from his bedside table. Slowly, he walks back to the bed, covered in a sheen of sweat. He wipes you up carefully, cleaning up his mess completely. Then he quickly changes the sheets, tossing the old ones in a pile that you’ll clean tomorrow, god forbid they go to one of the other girls. Once everything is settled, Arthur climbs into bed first, leaving room for you. With a small, tired smile, you lay your head on his chest, intertwining your legs together. 

“Reckon I should get you drunk more often if you’re gonna keep havin’ ideas like this one.” Arthur huffs, running his fingers up and down your spine. 

“It seems so.” You mumble, smiling.  Your hand runs through his chest hair, and you’re so glad to just be with him that part of you wishes you never had to sleep. But alas, your tired, sore body wins over quicker than you would have liked, and your sleepy eyes slip shut. Arthur doesn’t last much longer than you, and shortly the two of you are cuddled up together, equally parts comfortable and satisfied.

me the second i saw the golf clubs

💚Lottie Matthews NSFW Alphabet💚

💚Read the SFW Alphabet here!💚

Fanfiction master list

disclaimer: don't repost my work. I only post on Tumblr and on Ao3. anything else is stolen and should be removed immediately

Warnings: All Smut, given the nsfw title, thoughts about pregnancy, periods, mention of prior ptsd [AFAB Reader/anatomy used]

Word Count: 2,035

A/N: Honestly, I feel this could be my most "outlandish" set of headcanons for one of the girls, but only because I think I interpreted Lottie differently than others might. I don't really have a reason, it just kinda feels right for her I guess? I'm not really sure. As always, feel free to leave questions or comments in my comments or ask box, and happy reading!💚

Lottie Matthews Tag List:

Yellowjackets Tag List: @frasersgf @minimickzy

General Tag List: @summergeezburr

-💚-

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

She’s very touchy-feely after sex wanting to be the one to clean you up, run her fingers through your hair to freshen it back up, and take you into the bathroom for a bath because she just wants to pamper you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

It’s corny as hell, but she loves your eyes. She constantly watches how your eyes grow and change with every touch because that is the truest indicator of pleasure and approval that she’s found. The eyes can rarely lie, and oh how beautiful yours are when they roll back in during the height of ecstasy that she gets to bring upon you

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

She loves the taste of your cum on her tongue, especially when she gets to mingle it with the taste of your lips after she’s done a good job. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

She’d never bring it up unless the conversation lead to it, and it’s not really “dirty” per se, but she often thinks about how beautiful you’d be carrying your (being you and her) baby. The thought of you bringing a new life into her world that belongs to the both of you is just so magical to her and it kind of gets her going. It could have stemmed from watching Shauna’s pregnancy during a traumatic and developing time, she’s not sure. Of course, she’d never put you in a position where you felt that having children is a requirement with her, but if you wanted it she’d gladly welcome the idea and enjoy the view

E = Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

I don’t think she’s all that experiences in general. Lottie doesn’t seem to me to be the type to have explored that a lot in her teen years given she thought she’d have had time in college and after the crash, she was sent away. She’s only been able to explore herself for the last few decades and I think she’s a far more guarded character than we might think, so it’ll take quite a bit of time for her to get comfortable enough with someone to explore that part of herself 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

She loves being on her knees for you, holding your hand in hers as she eats you out with you dripping down her chin and cheeks. She loves her view from below. But if she’s the one being pleased, she wants you right next to her in bed, hand buried deep in her as she wraps around you, her head buried into your neck and shoulder with little to no space between you. She wants to feel your breath fan over her face and hear every comment you have to make whispered in her ear.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

Lottie is extremely serious about sex. It's almost ceremonial or sacred to her. She feels as though sex is an ultimate bond that partners choose to take that can help them grow into a whole new point in their relationship. She’d convinced that sex can and will elevate your relationship to a whole new level that connects you in more ways than just physical. Over time though, I think she can become more casual when it comes to sex if that's what you both want, and with that loosening up, I could see her becoming more carefree and silly during intimacy

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

I honestly don't think any of the girls are completely hairless after the wilderness just because 1) they got used to having body hair, and it's no longer taboo for them and 2) they were growing up in the 90’s when body hair wasn’t stigmatized. But for Lottie, she seems like the type to wax rather than shave, but she doesn't keep up with it rigorously, so it's common for her to have a reasonable amount of growth most of the time because it doesn’t bother her. And that’s with everything. Arms, legs, all the goods

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

She’s sickeningly romantic. There isn’t a moment where she’s not entangled with you in one way or another and she constantly murmurs sweet nothings in your ear, as you do with her because she craves any form of praise. She also loves sex under candlelight, or just fire in general. The way the flickering light gives her a minimal view of you, but what she can see is basked in hot, warm light is such a turn-on in of itself, even when you haven't touched her yet

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

She didn’t masturbate a lot before. Again, Lottie didn’t explore her sexual side much, if not at all till well into her adulthood. But once she’s committed to a relationship with you, masturbation is reserved for when she can’t have you, and part of her loathes it because she’d much rather be touching you than herself. And while she’s learned to please you, there's a curve in learning to please herself that she finds intensely frustrating. It could be really fun to teach her  

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Body worship, except she wants to do the worshiping rather than be worshiped. She’s tried it the other way before and even with it being strictly and completely out of intimacy, it reminds her of her teen years and the position she felt forced into. Despite still being in a leader's role in her comune, it's not out of a want for that position. It's to provide the healing she also needs. She much prefers to be on her knees for you, bathing in words of praise and encouragement as you reward her with pleasure

She’s also into tantra sex, which is using sex as a spiritual connection. It’s part of why she loves your eyes so much and constantly wants to be as close to you as possible when intimate, almost to the point of becoming one being

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Of course, she loves sex in the sanctity of your bedroom, but on particularly daring nights she’s a fiend for having sex out by the forest fire pit under the stars and the moon. There's an exhilarating feeling about being able to be as loud as you like but still wondering if you’re truly alone, and she adores having the fire lit, blazing beside you, and warming exposed skin even further

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

She’s especially turned on when you get touchy-feely with her, especially on her face. She loves when you touch her ears and the back of her neck specifically. Do that enough and she’s whisking you away for herself 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

She is very against period play but only when it’s her. If you’re on your period she doesn't care one bit about pleasing you, but when it’s her, she doesn't want to be touched down there whatsoever. The image of you with that much blood brings out such a heavy feeling of dread that she doesn’t like thinking about 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

She’s a connoisseur of both but prefers giving. She loves looking up at you through her lashes with those big bright brown eyes just to make sure that she’s doing a good job. She loves the tightening feeling of your legs pressing in on her head and nearly suffocating her because she knows that she’s making you feel good and right and the clawing feeling of your hands gripping her scalp for support. There's an electrifying magic to it all really

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

She’s more slow and sensual. She needs to make a connection with you and you can’t rush that. She’ll draw sex out as long as she can just to be one with you for a minute longer

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

She’s not a quickie girl. She needs to take her time and have her fill

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

I think after a while she’d be curious to experiment more, but it would take a little time. When she grows interested in adding new things to the bedroom I think she’d be the type to order a book online. She’ll read it when she got free time with her reading glasses on, taking a highlighter and sticky notes to the pages of things she wants to remember and keep in mind and she’ll bring them to you when she finished with a new passage to get your opinion on it

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

She’s pretty average, not lasting a crazy amount of time. She adores you, but she doesn’t need all day or night to be spent with just sex. She enjoys her time with you to be occupied in a wide variety of ways

T = Toys (do they own toys? Do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I don't think she’s that into penetrative toys. However, things like bondage rope, a silk gag/blindfold, and other kink-related memorabilia are fair game

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

She’s not much of a teaser in my opinion, mostly because with you there’s no need to tease. She gets what she wants just by asking, but she does enjoy being teased now and then. But it can’t be obvious. Maybe it’s by wearing a favorite dress of hers, or by touching her face each time you need to get past her, or the chance to see her intermittently throughout your days

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Lottie is another quiet girl to me. She’s more squeaky and airy when she's making any sound that pleasure related. She whines and whimpers a lot rather than moans and she seems like the type to muffle her words, but I think she talks quite a bit when it's your turn with her, and it's all very rushed and whispery in your ear, her words scrambled together as she tries to get it out before taking another breath tightly through her teeth

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

She’s into waxplay and is delighted to find out about lotion candles from those esty stores. She’s got all different sents and she loves the double use of wax and lotion. She loves both giving and receiving the wax and the additional task of rubbing the lotion in is one of her favorite forms of foreplay

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

She’s pretty lanky in her limbs and tends to hunch her shoulders when relaxed. I think she’s got a small happy trail over her stomach and she often braids her hair before sleeping

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Her sex drive is only high because of you. Now she’ll gladly have you every night if that's what you want. But, sex isn’t her main priority and she’s always game for a tame night in with tea and books or a movie instead

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

She doesn’t sleep quickly. I think sex is more refreshing for her than anything. Like, after an orgasm she’s ready for a shower and then goes off to do laundry. That is, she’s only leaving you if you fall asleep. But when it's very late at night though she’ll stay in bed, curled up with you and stroking your hair till she comes down enough to sleep

imagine you had sex with your fine as fuck girlfriend and it activated your sleeper agent blood thirsty other personality. happened to my friend taissa turner

GO EASY ON ME

eddie munson x fem!reader

( gif credits to @drogonstone )

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WARNINGS: young pregnancy (19), accidental pregnancy, post-break up, angst (happy ending, i promise!), mentions of potential abortion (doesn’t happen), crying, swearing, verbal fight, car crash metaphor (very brief), both reader and eddie have absent fathers, allusions to sex, jason carver being an asshole.

[ if there’s anything that i’ve missed, let me know! ]

—

SUMMARY: finding out you’re pregnant after your breakup with eddie isn’t exactly the best timing.

( not really following the plot of the show but set around season 4 with all the same characters etc. )

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WORD COUNT: 3k

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A/N: i hope you enjoy this! please like, reblog and comment! :) this is a little rushed, but i didn’t want to drag it out too much in case people weren’t interest in too much fluff lol XD

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you could almost remember the last time you and eddie had sex before the breakup. it wasn't exactly anything special or earth-shatteringly romantic, it was basically hurried and strictly fucking, not making love like you used to. just a means to release steam and get off.

that was proven by the lack of words spoken after you both finished, before rolling over to opposite sides of the bed and going to sleep.

but you weren't at all surprised by the lack of talking and intimacy, in fact, you had grown accustomed to it over the past couple of months. to say that you had both drifted would be an understatement. you had hardly shared more that 10 words within that time, simple small talk and questions about dinner and or what the plans were for the day.

with eddie having to repeat his senior year, again, you had graduated last year. you were nineteen and eddie was twenty, you had both met at high school. you were in a band who wrote shitty rock songs and performed them at small bars and events. you weren't popular by any means, but everyone knew who you were and they respected you. you stayed out of their way and they stayed out of yours.

eddie was the complete opposite. he was dramatic, loved causing problems and putting the attention on himself. he revelled in the feeling of eyes on him and loved to rile people up, especially the jocks. but you didn't care about that, you knew you loved him as soon as you met him. he was such a character and you felt pulled in by those dark brown eyes.

he was sweet, the perfect boyfriend. he wasn't boring, he brought new surprises to the table each day, always exciting you. he was caring and protective, always putting you first above the d&d campaigns, above drug deals, above the band. you understood his hobbies and you fully supported them, you were the proudest girlfriend and loved eddie more than words could ever express.

but something happened in the last two months, you had no idea what, but eddie had drifted, he'd been spending extra time at d&d campaigns, spending more time with the guys from the band. it wouldn't have been a problem if he hadn't been missing dates, and hang outs with you. graduation was drawing closer for him, which you completely understood him being busy focusing on all of this, but it wasn't helping your relationship.

he had begun to push you away. you could see it in his eyes that he had slowly lost interest. you spent hours wondering where it all went wrong, what you had done to make him push you away. but it came to nothing.

but a few days after the last time you were intimate, you both decided to call the three-year-long relationship off. you had taken all your stuff from his uncle's trailer, and he's taken his from your house that you shared with your brother. you were absolutely heartbroken, but in the long run, it was probably for the best.

but life wasn't that easy for you, because no less than two weeks after the breakup were you staring at a positive pregnancy test.

it couldn't have been worse timing, but there was no way you would get rid of this baby. the thought had run through your head plenty of times, but you couldn't bring yourself to do that.

after another week of mulling over your options you eventually broke down to your brother and told him everything. him and his girlfriend comforted you as you sobbed the whole night, they promised you that no matter what they would support you and help you.

they had both encouraged you to talk to eddie. you had originally planned to tell him sooner, but he was really hard to get ahold of. you called and he was always busy or he was too tired to meet up, it was hopeless.

you were now fourteen weeks along, and starting to show, thankful for your affinity for oversized clothing and t-shirts which helped hide your situation.

you wore your oversized black sabbath t-shirt when you went to eddie's trailer, you knew he was home because his van was parked outside. you were glad that his uncle worked night shifts, because you didn't really want to do this in front of wayne.

you were mad, furious even, your anger bubbles inside of your chest just begging to be released. you wished things hadn't happened like this, it would've been easier to have found out you were pregnant whilst you were both still dating, not like this.

but you were also angry at eddie for not making an effort to see you these past few weeks. you had called countless times, begging him to meet you just for five minutes to talk, but he was constantly busy. which fuelled your angry knocking on his trailer door, reaching the point of frustration that you couldn't care less if you woke his neighbours.

this was your first time back at his trailer since the breakup, it felt strange, you were used to using your spare key to go there whenever, and just casually strolling in, but you couldn't do that anymore.

when eddie answered the door, he was wearing his hellfire t-shirt and a pair of red plaid pyjama pants. his hair was messy as usual, clearly in need of a hairbrush.

"what do you want?", he groaned, running a hand down his face.

"well you weren't making time to meet me, despite me begging about thirty times," you deadpanned, crossing your arms across your chest.

"i've been busy, y/n. you know that," he rolled his eyes, one hand leaning against the doorframe.

"well, you're not busy now, munson. and we really need to talk," you ducked under his arm, and made your way inside the trailer.

your eyes scanned the room and noticed how little it had changed. you hadn't necessarily expected big change, or eddie and wayne to completely redecorate etc, but you would've thought eddie would've at least taken down the posters you had got him.

you heard the door close behind you and turned to face eddie, who looked utterly exhausted.

"why are you here?", he asked, his voice void of emotion.

"why the hell are you being like this?", you scoffed, crossing your arms again.

"like what?", he scoffed, crossing his arms too.

"so damn hostile, eddie! we loved each other, we were together for three fucking years! as far as i knew, our breakup was mutual, and we could be in the same room without wanting to rip the others head off," you exclaimed exasperatedly.

eddie sighed and stepped a little closer to you, and you tried to read his eyes and body language but it was useless, he was a damn closed book.

"not everything is about you y/n! god, i can be in a bad mood and it doesn't have to be anything to do with you," he argued.

"well, what's wrong?", you asked, almost feeling bad for him before he shut you down again.

"you're not my fucking therapist y/n. why are you here?", he huffed.

"i wanted to talk to you."

"so talk!", he exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air exasperatedly.

"maybe it would be best if i came back at a different time," you sighed, turning to the door.

"there won't be a better time! just say what you needed to say and then leave!", he shouted, causing you to turn around to face him.

this was not the same eddie munson that you fell in love with. he would never talk to you like this, look at you like this, he would never even think of raising his voice at you. this was not the man you wanted to father your unborn child.

"you do know you're the reason that we broke up, right?", you said, fists clenching as you felt that familiar ache in your chest that you've been feeling since you broke up.

eddie only rolled his eyes. "i thought i might be."

"you just shut down completely eddie, you shut me out! you hardly looked at me, or talked to me anymore. i tried to fucking hard, and i got nothing in return from you," you shouted, your nails digging into your palms so hard that you were sure crescent moon shaped indents would be appearing on your skin.

"is that the reason you came here? to yell at me about how i was an awful boyfriend? we'll let me tell you this y/n, you don't know anything. and i am certainly not in the fucking mood for this!", he yelled back.

"i never said you were a terrible boyfriend! you were a perfect boyfriend right up until those last moments, and i don't even know what happened to you, to us. and you're never in the mood, that's the fucking problem!", you argued.

"well, i guess it's a good job we're broken up then."

"you're just fucking impossible eddie. what happened to you, huh? you used to be the sweetest most caring boyfriend ever, and it's like you woke up one morning and chose not to be. where did the man that i love go?", you cried, exhausted with eddie's out of character lack of care.

"it's just life y/n. things change, people change," he ran his hands down his face as he turned away.

you were angry. he wasn't paying any attention and was completely dismissive to you and your feelings.

"don't turn your back on me when i'm talking to you!", you exclaimed.

"you're not even talking, you're fucking yelling! i don't wanna' listen to it, this isn't where you live anymore y/n, so please leave," he spun around to face you, running a hand through his hair.

"i'm not going anywhere until i say what i wanted to say!"

"so fucking say it, then leave! give me some goddamn peace and quiet!", he scoffed.

"you asshole, i'm fucking pregnant!", you shouted.

eddie froze. the kind of stoicalness where his eyes were wide, his lips parted, his heartbeat running a mile a minute. his fists which were balled up at his sides, an anxious habit of his, released. he felt like he had just been hit by a truck, like his ribs were crushed and his lungs punctured and he couldn't breath.

"y-you're...what?", he breathed out, his eyes wide as he stared at your teary form.

"i'm fourteen weeks. i wanted to tell you sooner, but you wouldn't give me a chance," you explained, the date eliminating his first question about the validity of him being the father.

but he also knew you, he knew there was no way you would ever move on that quickly. eddie slumped down onto the couch, his eyes casted to the ground as he slowly blinked, trying to process what had just happened.

"pregnant. you're pregnant...yo- we're having...a baby," he breathed out shakily, his eyes casting up to you as you tugged the fabric of your black sabbath t-shirt tight to your back so he could see the small bump that had begun to form.

he felt his eyes begin to sting as they welled up with tears. when you were together, eddie wanted nothing more than to start a family with you in the future, you had both spoke about your aspirations and future plans during one of your dates. but this wasn't how he wanted it to be.

he didn't hate you, not at all. he could never hate you, you were the one good thing in his life that made him feel like he belonged, that he was significant.

you gently sat on the couch beside him, keeping just under a foot distance between you. you stared at your hands which rested in your lap, just waiting for eddie to say something.

you expected him to yell at you, to call you names, or kick you out. but the words that left his lips stunned you into complete silence.

"i'm sorry."

your head lifted to meet his eyes. the tears now fell freely.

"what?", you spoke, your voice almost a whisper.

"i'm so fucking sorry. i'm so sorry," he began to sob, the damn breaking and all of his emotions overflowing.

you instinctively wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he clutched your shirt, his body shaking as it wracked with the sobs. one of your hands smoothed over his hair, the faint smell of cinnamon and apple filling your nose as you pressed a kiss to the top of his head. he had clearly just gotten out of his shower before you arrived, still using your shampoo that you left there.

it smelt like home. it felt like home. being in eddie's arms again gave you hope that everything was going to be okay.

the rest of the night, the pair of you just talked about everything. a lot of tears were shed. but you had finally gotten your explanation for the distance before the breakup.

jason carver was the reason. all throughout high school, jason had feelings for you, but you rejected him every time because you was utterly in love with eddie. after graduation, you decided to take a gap year in order to save up money for when you eventually moved away to college. you had a dream of studying law at georgetown, and you had good enough grades and references to do so.

but the problem was, jason wasn't used to not getting what he wanted. so he used his influences to his advantage, he cornered eddie and threatened him that if he didn't break up with you, then he would make sure his fathers friend, the dean of georgetown, wouldn't accept you.

eddie knew he had to. there was no way he was going to risk your future and your dreams. so he started to drift from you, in hopes of making it less painful and questioning that just out of the blue breaking up with you.

eddie sobbed as he told you how sorry he was over and over again, he felt awful for what he done to you.

“i promise, i’m going to do better than both of our father’s. i’m going to be there every step of the way, it means so much to me that you’re giving me this chance,” eddie spoke, his voice breaking a little as the tears still fell. “i’m going to be the best damn father ever.”

“oh eds,” you whispered, wiping away his tears with your thumbs.

he looked up at you, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly agape as he looked towards your belly.

“can i…?”, he asked, trailing off after you nodded, instantly knowing what he meant.

you gently lifted up your shirt, holding it just beneath your chest which revealed the fourteen week bump. eddie felt more tears begin to roll softly down his cheeks, he looked nervous to touch you. so you took the initiative to carefully pick up his hand and place it on your belly. once his breathing steadied, you removed your hand and watched as he placed the other one carefully beside the one that was already on your belly.

“hi baby, i’m eddie. i’m your…i’m your dad,” he spoke through his tears, his hands caressing your belly so gently in fear that he would hurt you or the baby.

eddie could be quite heavy handed, but he was always so gentle with you, so this was no exception. he leant forward slowly and pressed a small, lingering kiss to your belly.

you bit your lip to prevent the happy tears from falling at eddie’s actions. seeing him like this, so soft and paternal made your heart skip hundreds of beats.

“i can’t wait to meet you peanut, but you’ve got to grow for a bit longer in your mommy’s belly. we both can’t wait to meet you,” he spoke softly, his head still lingering near your belly.

“peanut?”, you asked, a small chuckle slipping past your lips.

eddie looked up at you through his lashes, his soft brown eyes just reminding you once again why you love him so much.

“yeah, it sounds cute,” he shrugged with a small smile.

“hmm…peanut. it’s cute,” you hummed.

eddie began to sit up, your eyes connecting. in that moment, it felt like you were back as your sixteen-year-old self, about to have your first kiss with your lifelong crush.

“can i kiss you, please?”, he whispered, his right hand reaching up to gently cup your cheek.

you looked at his furrowed brows and pursed lips, seeing the sincerity in his eyes and you nodded.

he gently pressed his lips to yours, it felt like nothing had changed. it felt like a cold glass of water on a hot summers day, the first bite of a fresh strawberry, hearing a crowd cheer after a gig. it felt refreshing, but also comforting. he was so soft and delicate, nothing was more comforting than eddie.

you loved him more than life itself.

—

twenty-six weeks later, you held a six pound, four ounce baby girl in your arms at hospital. eddie sat on the edge of the bed, tears in his eyes once again as he gently ran his index finger up and down your babies tiny little nose.

“peanut was very fitting,” he spoke up, causing you to look up at his tiredly through your lashes.

eddie simply smiled at you, and his smile was delightfully infectious.

“i love you sweetheart,” he grinned, leaning down to press a kiss to your sweaty forehead.

“i love you too, eds,” you smiled back, both of you looking back to your beautiful baby girl.

“i love you too, my little peanut. i can’t wait for life with you and your beautiful mommy,” he cooed at your sleeping baby.

Fine Line Series (on hold)

Y/N was in love with Harry. What she felt was a complete circle of love and adoration to this boy that captured her heart. She admired his caring nature, kind heart, and passionate actions. She was a blind-fool that believed the small deeds he did for her were a sign of mutual reciprocity. 

Harry was infatuated with Y/N. What he felt was an intense passion for the idea of her. Her body and her emotions were completely devoted to him and he cannot deny the smugness he felt to have someone put him on a pedestal for everything he did. 

What they had – it wasn’t love. 

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