I Love When Oda Wants To Give Luffy A Cool Hat But Obviously He Can't Get Rid Of The Straw Hat So He

i love when Oda wants to give Luffy a cool hat but obviously he can't get rid of the straw hat so he just starts stacking them

Love me baby

Hi, Can You Write About Yandere Ethan Who Thinks He Is In A Relationship With The Reader, And He Is Very

Yan!Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

Masterlist if you want to read my others things.

TW/CW: love bombing (I think?), manipulation, lies, reader curses a lot(she's just going crazy guys), mention of sex

Don't know what to think of this. I came back for Halloween month isn't that crazy (it's not). I probably lost like 70% of you guys but yeah I'm alive. Still writing things that end up WAY too long. And I'm sorry but I'm working on all of your asks I'm just really slow but each of you are genius, so far I had crazy stories ideas.

Idk if that's what you wanted with your prompt but that's what I thought so I still hope you like it.

07/10/2024 (7254 words)

The door of your room creaks slowly, the dark atmosphere creating such a heavy tension in the air you could cut it with a knife. You hold your breath, keeping your eyes closed, praying. Footsteps are resonating on the wood flooring when they come to a sudden stop at the opposite of the bed. Slowly, the blanket is raised and a weight is pressed down on the mattress.

The warm of his body is both comforting and infuriating.

"I love to sleep with you." Whisper Ethan a smile in the voice.

You did not answer because you were pretending to be asleep. There was no way you were going to help him nourish his delusion.

You never understood why Ethan never changed with time. Because, well, most of the time, when a girl and a boy are childhood friends, there's this awkward transition thanks to puberty. It's the moment you realize that he's a man, and you're not. And he realizes it as well.

And normally from then, you have trouble sleeping in the same bed, being stuck together all day, eating each other's food. As people are always looking your way, asking since when are you two together and telling you how cute you are and shit.

But Ethan, it seems, never realized that growing up meant putting boundaries between you.

"You're warm." he says, lodging his face in the crook of your neck. Embracing your body with one arm on your waist and pulling your back against his torso. You're still pretending to be sound asleep.

You thought about asking him. Asking him if he didn't have difficulties to find a partner, since people always assume you are a couple. But you never asked. Because Ethan tells you everything, and you mean everything. So if he had trouble looking for love, you would have known first day.

But you're not even sure Ethan knows what love is to begin with.

His family, well, his family... His family had a favorite child, and it wasn't him. Richie, may he rest in peace, was the perfect golden child. Ethan always has been put aside along with his sister. His father never really tried to know his other kids.

But then Richie died. You're not sure how exactly because it's a taboo subject for him and his family, and you understand them. But from what you've heard, it was a sort of accident. A few friends of him didn't like his passion for Halloween so they tricked him, or something. You ignore all the details.

That's all you know, though. Richie and you weren't even close. He liked drama, for sure. But your friend was Ethan, not his brother. Plus, Ethan was giving you the stinky eye and acting jealous if you even tried to look at Richie. At the time, you found it normal. Richie was the favorite, Ethan didn't get attention as any of it went to his brother. You were his friend, his only friend, who wanted to talk to him and not his brother. Of course he would act jealous if he stole a little bit of you; you were the only support he had in life.

All of this to say, Ethan never received any real love. His sister loved him, you think. They were both neglected. But she loved her father more. And Ethan was conflicted as well. He admired and hated his father. So yeah, love in this family was complicated.

But now, as you're both grown up, sleeping in your bed together, you think you should've say something sooner.

"You're asleep baby ?" he whispers, chuckling in your ear.

Baby.

You don't remember when he first started calling you that. It was so... Smooth. You think he was joking at first, just like you. Calling you pet names just to annoy you. You were doing the same. But he started to slip these baby, love a little bit everywhere. So much that you become accustomed to it ! And you stopped paying attention. To you, his pet names just became another way to say bro, man, girl. There wasn't anything weird behind it. But you were naive.

"You really are sleeping ?"

Ethan is still a complicated man to understand. He seems to have such intense feelings inside him. He's supposed to tell you everything but you're not sure he really does. Like Richie's death.

He often cries the death of his brother, doing violent nightmares as well. Ethan never told you the real reason of his death. But it doesn't change anything, Ethan always ended up calling you in the middle of the night breaking down and asking for your support.

So it's no surprise that you ended up being his roommate.

Because you know him better than anyone else.

"Already ?" he whispers, skeptical.

And he knows you better than anyone else.

"Or are you ignoring me, hm ?"

Privacy with him was non existent. When you moved in, you were so excited to live a new life with your best friend. You even go to the same school ! You thought, naively, that it'd be so much fun ! Discovering your adult life with him and all.

Oh how you hate yourself, today.

Doors ? Always open. Clothes ? You're sharing them. Bed ? You bought two for nothing. He's constantly in yours. Fuck, where are you ? In jail ? You don't need to share everything !

But these days, Ethan acts different. Like, really different. He made friends. Alone. By himself. Friends that are not you. Which is new and a fricking good new. Because that means he'll finally start to live his own life without trying to glue you in it.

"Are you mad at me ?" the tip of his fingers draw invisible pattern on your arm. "I'm sorry."

His sister even is in this group. But she doesn't want you to join. Well, you think she doesn't, at least. Each time you smile at her, she sends you a death glare. Even Ethan choose not to introduce you to them. You're not even sure their new friends know they are related. The Kirsch family liked to stay private about their life. Or Landry, like Ethan wants you to call him now. Whatever makes him happy.

His friends are nice, though. You talked to them something like three times in the year but they're nice people. Their names are not quite in your head yet, but you do remember a few of them.

And Tara's really cute ! You thought that Ethan and her had a thing going on but when you asked him, he got all offended and denied everything in one block. So you don't know.

Well, you're lying. You do know, unfortunately. Ethan's in love with you. It's as obvious as the sun in the sky. You can't even be surprised, you saw it coming. He never talk to girls, you're probably the only one he ever talked to, or even looked in the eyes for that matter.

Since your childhood you've been here for him, supporting him when his family didn't. Loving him when he needed it the most. Of course, at the end, he would fall in love with you. But it wasn't the goal, you swear it wasn't your intention. Ethan is your friend.

Even if he's starting to get really clingy. A little too much. And even if he's trying to establish a routine too domestic for you.

"I don't have a thing for Tara, you know.

There he goes again. He's trying to reassure you. But damn, you don't need any reassurance. You're good. He's acting like you're the one getting jealous over nothing.

That's why he got offended when you asked him about her. Ethan is scared you'll think he's 'cheating' on you. Or do you think. Ethan never elaborated on what your relationship had become. Probably because he was afraid of your reaction, of your rejection.

-It's quite the opposite.

You retain yourself from asking him what he means by that, utterly confused. The opposite ? He doesn't like her, then ? But why is he hanging out with her so much ? Ethan is usually not the hypocrite type. Yes he's shy with people he doesn't know and is scared to give his opinion but when he doesn't like someone, he simply stops seeing them.

And once again, Tara's really nice. What did she do to make Ethan don't like her ?

-But you'll understand.

You stopped trying to understand him, a long time ago already. He just changed so much in the course of a few days. It's like he has too much on his mind. Sometimes, he just disappear from your apartment and come back hours later with a big smile on the face, all disheveled.

Of course, you thought he was seeing someone. Hell, his bag is always so bloated ! It's like he has spare clothes in it ! But it still wasn't the case. What the hell was going on with him ?

-So please, don't be mad at me.

-I'm tired, Ethan. You whisper, lips pursued thanks to your cheek planted on your pillow. He already knew you were awake anyway. Your sentence is enough to tell him you want to sleep and end this conversation.

-Of course, sorry baby."

And that was it. You knew he was smiling behind you but you didn't care. He left you alone, that's what matter. You were already trying to push him away for a long time but now you feel like time is missing. You need to make him understand that you do not like him and quick. It'll break his heart, but you're tired of pretending everything's alright, exhausted from constantly being the one to compromise.

You don't want to sound like a jerk but damn, Ethan is suffocating you. He's ruining both of your lives. The last time you had a partner have to be something like years ago ! You literally have to hide from him when you leave to see someone.

"Goodnight." He adds, ten minutes later. Probably scared that you forget about him so quickly.

How could you possibly change things ? Ethan is susceptible. It doesn't matter what your words or intentions are, he only hear what he wants to.

"Love you." he whispers so lowly you thought you imagined it.

You do not even try to answer.

The next day, in class, Ethan kept pestering you about the new movie he absolutely had to show you. Something along the line of a serial killer in a mine chasing people with a pickaxe, being in love with his ex-girlfriend and sabotaging her couple. Tonight would probably be centered around that film, just like every time you two have any free time. If that idea would have appealed you years prior, you today feel as if this is too much. Yesterday night laid a weird weight on your shoulders, a sort of unease that you can't quite shake off.

"Aren't you tired of always watching movies ? You grumble, annoyed, in hope of giving him the ick.

-No, he smiles, but we can do something else. No big deal. What did you have in mind ?"

You sigh, not even giving him enough attention to answer him. He'll probably still put the movie tonight, whether you like it or not. For sure to avoid another argument between you both. As you're constantly fighting, talking about a movie is the only way Ethan found to prevent an umpteenth dispute. Quite smart actually, if you forget the fact that you now know his strategy.

The hubbub slowly surrounding you alerts you of your soon to be lateness in class. With a nod in his direction, you start turning away from Ethan only for him to hastily grab your hand. Sighing, you raise a brow at him.

"We're walking home together, don't forget.

-Ethan we've been walking home together for years now. Clearly I won't forget." He smiles. His hands grab both of your cheeks and as his face approaches yours, panic settles thinking he would kiss you on the lips but he instead lay a chaste kiss on your forehead.

"See you later." Ethan's too happy voice says. You frown, holding his wrists to take them away from you in what could be similar to disgust. "Yeah, later." You say before finally leaving him for the next few classes, wiping his kiss on the way.

You won't see him for the afternoon as you both already ate together at home, and started class at 2PM (14h), to end the day at 8PM (20h).

These lonesome classes are both a benediction and a curse as you try as best as you can to befriend people but they always seem wary. It's probably too late for you to make friend now, the whole year is almost done. People already made friends earlier in the year and don't need any new ally.

And at the same time, Ethan is not here to harass you. That's why you still cherish this morning. Until you don't; your next class is with him and if you remember correctly the teacher talked about a group project last time. Great. Way to ruin a day.

But when you sit down, no one is there to bother you. Ethan is absent, probably late. A rare occurrence but a lovely one nonetheless.

Ten minutes later and he finally show up along with all of his new friends. Immediately, you lay down on the desk to avoid his gaze. But to your stupor, Ethan does not sit next to you and you hear the whispers of his group, conscious of having interrupted the lesson. Ethan ignored you.

Honestly, you can't pinpoint the main emotion this procured you. Relief at first but also confusion, fear of the harassment and countless excuses that'll come next. Happiness but wariness. The fact he's not next to you doesn't mean he's not watching and that's somehow ten times worse. You can't see him: you have no idea what he's doing.

Anyway, he's finally starting to replace you. Still, isn't that a bit toxic how your days are filled with fear to spend a mere minute in his presence while he acknowledges you only when wants to ? Well, everything about him is toxic. At this point, it doesn't change anything really.

You risk one look behind you to observe his usual shenanigans but he's busy, not even glancing your way. Now that you look at him, he doesn't seem really happy to talk to them, nor does Quinn. What is going on with them ? Ethan just look empty. He's staring into nothing, not even blinking. Just deep in thoughts. Though, as soon as Chad or one of the group talks to him, he gains back his merry behaviour. Weird. But hey, it's none of your business !

And that's the same spirit you sport when leaving for class, alone and not waiting for Ethan. It's good that the teacher reported the group project to tomorrow, you got to enjoy your day. You still hear him and his friends laugh in the background, but he's talking this time. Maybe he just wasn't in a good mood earlier and actually likes his friends, who know ?

And after all, if it's like that, you can go home alone. Not that you complain. You'll just say you didn't want to disturb him with his friends. After all, he's the one who doesn't want you to know them. You won't force him !

And hopefully, you'll finally enjoy some time to yourself. At peace, at home.

You push the heavy door of the building, leaving the place for the day. It's cold outside, too much for you own liking but you're alone and it's priceless. You can look at people in the street and you only realize how bad your situation really is. You do not even allow partners to treat you like this, but somehow you allow Ethan to? It's time to wake up. You can't live like this anymore. Ethan trapped you in a toxic relationship for fuck sake. If you can't change him, you'll change yourself. But he can't find out.

But when you thought you were finally free, rushed footsteps hitting the ground can be heard in your back. Goosebumps raises your body hair as you fear already knowing who's coming.

"You promised!" He shouts and your steps stop abruptly, turning to look at him. You allow him to run the distance left between you before he stops in front of you. "And you left without me. He is out of breath, having ran all the way here.

-You were busy.

-I'm never busy when you're here. Ethan tells you with a playful grin, almost flirting with you, passing his fingers in his curls to tame them. You can come fetch me if you're scared I forget about you.

He's joking, you think, he's just friendly and joking. Nothing's weird and — shit, who are you lying to ? Of course he's not but what the hell can you do ?

-How was you day ? He asks, changing subject. He saw your unease, like always, and try to take your attention on something else. Math sucked today, we worked on... but he suddenly interrupts himself, eyes going wide. I forgot to give my essay to the English teacher.

You already gave yours this morning. But it's weird that Ethan did not. He's usually the perfect little student. Always giving his homework the next day he was asked to do it. There really is something weird, he's a little bit too much in his own head. And it's starting to show.

-I still have my draft, you can just copy mine and give it tomorrow, it's no big deal. You shrug, looking at both sides of the road before crossing. You're always the first to hand homework, I'm sure he won't mind if you give it a little bit later.

"Really ? He smiles brightly when you nod. "Thank you! You know, I have no idea what I'd do without you baby.

Your body tenses. You feel like the discussion is going in a direction you don't want it to go. It's obvious he's not only talking about the homework you let him copy.

-It's nothing, you start, but it's already too late.

-You know, I don't think you realize all the things you've done for me. Not just the homework, like, in all our life.

You hate how he said 'our life', like you share one.

-For real Ethan, you add but much more coldly than before, it's nothing. Are you done ? Can we let it go, now ?"

Yes, being mean maybe wasn't the best solution. But you ran out of ideas. And Ethan never look like he's hurt by your harsh tone. It's like he doesn't even listen to you most of the time you're starting to get angry at him. He just nods and smiles like an idiot.

The rest of the way home, Ethan ranted about everything and anything he did at school and asked you questions which you did not bother to answer to, to what he filled the answers himself.

On the last steps to your apartment, you realize you have to act today for your future.

Ethan opens the door and allows you to enter before him. Turning the light on, you're pleased to see your sweet comfort.

"Happy to be home, you grunt, letting your bag fall on the ground.

-Happy I caught up to you.

Is he being passive aggressive ? What are you even supposed to say to that ? You give him a tight lip smile and walk to the kitchen, getting you a cup of water.

-What we doing now ? He asks, leaning on the counter.

Well, you for sure don't know about 'we' but you are going to sleep. You need to set up boundaries, or at least introduce them to him.

-It's getting late. I think I'll go to sleep.

-Already ? Okay, well, I'm coming in a few seconds.

-About that... Ethan stops in his track. You tub your temples. Here you go again. You're sleeping in your room tonight, you state. Not open for any negotiation.

Ethan stares at you as if you had grow another head.

-You don't want to sleep with me ?

-I had a really tiring day, I just want to sleep alone for tonight. But if you have another nightmare come knock, I'll see what I can do.

Naively, you thought that making him pity you would work, that he'd understand, tell you goodnight and everything would be done for the day. But it's Ethan. And you haven't been separated from Ethan since you guys were kids.

The boy stares at you with doe eyes, trying to coax you into giving him what he wants, before frowning, articulating words that won't come out.

He's trying to gently manipulate you, again. And you repeat yourself that it's not his fault, he's a victim of his shitty family. He doesn't have any social awareness, he's not doing it on purpose. Well, you think he's doing it on purpose but without really acknowledging it. As you told him multiple times his behaviour could be obsessive and he's aware of it. But it's as if he can't help it.

You're confused. But at the same time, you don't really know much about the interactions he had with his father along his childhood. Maybe he's copying this mechanism because he saw his progenitor doing it ? His father could be manipulative after all. Your parents always found him weird but with the death of his first son, he just completely lost it.

-You... You don't want to sleep with me. Mumbles Ethan more to himself.

-Exactly Ethan, I don't want to.

It's like you see the gear turning in his head.

-Why ? he asks which caused a sigh to escape you.

-I wanted to talk to you about it for a while now. It's complicated." You sit on the back of the cushion and scratch at you arm to help you think. "I like you a lot Ethan, you know right ?

His lips turns up to display a bright smile, his face seem to shine at your words and he nods multiple times. You think you see his eyes stare at your lips.

-I love you too. I hope you know that.

Now, 'love' wasn't actually the word you used but you're going to have to ignore that.

-The thing is, Ethan, that we do not have to be stuck together every minutes of the day, you hear me ? Sometimes I want to sleep alone. And I'm sure you want to be alone too, right ? Ethan frowns and laugh nervously.

-I actually don't, I... Why would I want to be alone ? I sleep really well with you. Don't you ? Why do you suddenly hate being with me ?

-Wow okay I did not say that. You are interpreting my words in a way I don't like. I don't hate to be with you I just...

-What do you need to do that requires me to be out of your bedroom ?

Lot of things. But there is some you can't say out loud.

-What ? Tell me then ? What are you-. Ethan says, cheeks turning red. Oh, yeah, you can sleep alone for tonight I guess, he clears his throat. He avoids eye contact, trying to act tough.

Is he thinking about what you think ?

-Ethan, I won't do any weird stuff tonight. I just want to be alone. I like to sleep in a star like position or just being able to move in my sleep you know ? That's all.

-But you can do that with me.

Maybe you should've stick with whatever dirty thought he had. You should have told him you were going to invite someone over or.. Or fucking masturbate if that's what you need to get him out. Because Ethan steps towards you, an empty expression he doesn't give you often on the face.

-You're lying to me. That's not why you want to sleep alone. I really hate you lying to me.

-I am not lying to you Ethan, I'm exhausted.

He scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest and getting defensive. How come you ruined everything ? Nothing is ever right with him, he always find a way to change your words or just get offended over anything.

-You'll be talking all night with him, won't you?

That right now is one of the many reasons as to why you never tried to bring the topic of personal space to a man like him.

-Ethan for the love of god, I want to sleep! I won't talk to anyone, damn.

You don't even know who is that 'him' ! It's not like you have the opportunity to talk to a lot of people, Ethan always ruin everything. And in any case he doesn't, everyone just assume that you two are together already.

-You're lying. You'll chat with him. Give me your phone. I... I can't let you do that. I'll be all alone and you'll laugh with him while I'll be with my broken heart.

The light of the living room was starting to hurt your tired eyes, you couldn't retain many yawns from escaping. Turning on your phone, you learn you've been fighting for ten minutes. You needed to sleep but Ethan wasn't on the same page. It was late, too late for bullshit like this.

-Who are you even talking about ?

He suddenly tries to grab your phone by force, pulling it towards him. Our of pure bewilderment you tighten your hold on the device, grasping it so hard the screen might have broke. You slap him in the face with your free hand, utterly in disbelief. Ethan stands still, shock on his face while he let go of your device to touch his cheek.

-What is wrong with you ? You whisper with disgust. It's the first time Ethan acted physical with you. And probably the last time as the numerous searches for accommodations on your phone testify.

-Why can't I see your damn phone?

-And why do you fucking want to see it ?

Silence. He stands still, frowning. Probably considering if he'll either go for manipulation or violence. But his next words are so out of pocket that you need a minute to compose yourself.

-Are you prostituting yourself or what ? With the number of men you see.

Honestly, it simply is sad to see what you two had became. As children, you were attached to the hip, fusional. You could both end each other sentence. Today, it seems only Ethan is able to do that as he knows you more and more when you know him less and less.

-I think we're done for the night Ethan." You walk to your room, using his stillness to take your time before slamming the door shut in his face, locking it for the night. You hear Ethan knocking his palm against the wood separating you both but you chose to ignore it.

-Open the door please, let's talk." He never stops knocking on the door, probably thinking you'd open it at one point, annoyed at him. But not tonight.

You open your drawers and start changing, frowning at the sight of his boxers laying in your clothes. He's still rambling in the background but you pay him no mind, doing your own life on your side.

-What you're doing is really childish. We're both adults and we should act as such. Open the fucking door, please. You smile.

There he goes. The real Ethan. The meanie. The man after the death of his brother: Ethan Landry. A completely different man.

-Are you listening to me ? Open that fucking door, we are not done talking because I know you're not ignoring me after being the one who left me alone on campus.

Of course he would use that against you but you don't even care. Yeah you left him alone, so what ? He's a big man, isn't he ? Surely he's not scared of walking alone.

-See how you are ? All big and proud before me but then when we really need to talk you hide." He mutters something you don't hear, but then you catch his footsteps moving away.

You're confused but decide it's a good thing he gave up and fall on the bed, it's the first time in probably months where you're allowed to lay like a star fish in your own bed. You relish in the newfound comfort you missed how so much. You plunge your face in your pillow and hug it firmly.

At one point, it falls on you that Ethan never give up that quickly and realize that upon hearing no reaction from you, he must've changed plan as his footsteps are back, along with an unknown sound of something falling right in front of your door. To no one surprise, he now starts apologizing.

"I'm stupid, okay ? Forgive me. I'm sorry. Open please. His voice is muffled through the door, and you ignore it. I'm just worried about you. I know you're not seeing anyone.

Great, he's back.

-And I'm sorry for getting angry at you. I was frustrated.

He's not and you know it. When Ethan has something in mind, he'll go to incredible length to accomplish it. Sometimes, you ask yourself if he's acting this way because of you. If you once told him something, did something that could have impacted him.

-I just really like you, I know I can be a lot sometimes but you forgive me, right ? You always do." You think about definitely moving out of here, once and for all, far from him when you fall asleep.

When sunlight woke you up the next day and you decided to head to the kitchen, you were surprised to see Ethan, sleeping tightly on his mattress on the ground at your feet, right before the door. You completely forgot about him. There's no way he really slept on the ground all night. It's not normal, you're worried about him. Maybe you need to take him to a psychiatrist.

You stay stunned a few minutes, seriously worrying over the state of your friend for him to be doing literally anything. You were going to wake him up, but then you remembered how weird he was being with you recently and decided to let him be.

Ignoring him, you step over his body and start to prepare your breakfast. Of course, Ethan quickly woke up upon hearing you rummaging the drawers.

"Hi baby..." He whispers, tired from his sleepless night, eyes still partially closed. "Slept well ?

-Yes actually. The best night of sleep I've had in a long time. There was a bounce in your steps that couldn't be ignored.

-Well I had nightmares." It's hard to discern the truth in all of his lies. Maybe he really had nightmares, maybe he just wants you to feel guilty.

There was a tension in the apartment this morning that even Ethan couldn't hide this time. He stayed silent for the most part of the walk to class. Something in your relationship changed and the unknown scares you. What will happen now ?

Your first lesson is with Ethan, but he leaves your side to go straight to his friends. Chuckling, you know he's still angry at you and is trying to make you mad.

As soon as you sit, the teacher announces the instructions of the group project everyone will have to do in these two hours and then finish at home. Name by name, she lists duets and the class start to move around, going to their partner. When your name is coupled with another, you see a guy walks towards you with a smile. He stops in front of your table.

"You're the one I'm doing the project with, right ?

You smile to him and nod, giving him your name. He repeated your action, introducing himself. He was cute. He sits by your side, you chat a little, getting to know each other. You hope he usually has good grade, you really don't want to repeat your year.

The man now sat on the chair next to you start planning the organization of the project. Dividing the task to be much more efficient. That's what you do, telling him you can do the second part while he does the first. Everything was going well until you realized that it's been a long time since you saw the Kirsch boy, and of course, he had to change that.

The curly man heads your way, smiling upon seeing you make eye contact with him. He stares one second at the man by your side, immediately displaying a smile who you knew announced no good.

"Hi, I'm Ethan. I asked the teacher to change groups. So you're not with her anymore, you're actually with Amber over there" he turns his back to you and point to a girl further away. "The one in blue." He looks back at you two, using his shy demeanor and lanky posture to appear as the nerd you know damn well he isn't. He knows that by acting this way, he is laughed at but never yelled at. He looks innocent.

-What ? Why ? Why would you ask the teacher that ? You ask.

-Because we're friends so we'll work better together." He was giving you that shy smile you learnt to hate. He thought you'd forgive him quicker this way; he was right. You did forgive him quicker in the past, but not anymore. It's quite the opposite now, each time he was trying to manipulate you like this, you were getting angrier.

"And I know how much you're insecure about yourself and all so, it's for you !"

What the actual fuck is he talking about!

All the while telling you this, Ethan never looked in your new friend's way. His attention was solely on you. He's humiliating you, and on purpose. Confused, embarrassed and sorry, you search the other man's eyes. He was just like you. He raises a brow then shrugs. He packs his things, you apologize and he smiles, telling you that it's okay. You felt like shit.

He's heading towards the girl Ethan forced him to work with.

"Why would you do that ?

He's embarrassing ! You look like two losers who only have each others as friends and don't want to talk to anyone else. It's seriously tiring. You've been each other sole friend for years ! You can't even name someone you've been friend with for more than a month !

-We're friends, remember ? he raises his brow, as if telling you the obvious.

-And that's a reason to push everyone else away ? To humiliate me ? What the fuck are you on about me being insecure ? I get that you're angry at me but fuck it Ethan.

-He's an asshole. I saw him around. You really shouldn't hang around him." He does not elucidate on the other part of your sentences. But you know what he would have said already; it's a test to see if he'd stayed, and he didn't so he's not your friend.

You don't even want to argue with him at this point. It was useless, he was never listening to you. It's impossible for you to count the times in which Ethan drove everyone away. You had literally zero friends here but Ethan.

Once, a girl came talk to you in finance but Ethan arrived and jokingly told her you had AIDS. What the fuck ? Who say that first thing when meeting someone ? Even her didn't understand. She just thought you two were weird and never talked to you ever again. It's like he loves to embarrass you in front of everyone. And when you got angry at him, he just said it was a joke but he was just so awkward with people and- Fuck. He pretended to be the victim, again.

You always try to help him. You know he had a difficult childhood, never received love, never had friends, you know. That's why you always overlooked his flaws. But today and this night was just too much.

That night, you locked yourself in the toilet to chat with the owner who could potentially save your life. She asked you about your studies and your work to know more about your profile.

"I'm in New York right now but I'm almost finished with my degree so that's why I plan to move out." You send her.

The owner shares with you her excitement towards you living in New York, saying how she's doesn't understand why would someone leave a big city to a place as desolated as where she is. You answer briefly, something along the lines of family problems.

You really hope she'll accept your profile. Her house is beautiful and perfectly located. Far enough from the city, but close enough that you can go there for a future work. Rent is high but it's necessary or Ethan definitely will end you.

"Did you die in here ?" Ethan knocks on the door. Yeah, you really need to get out of here. Flushing and washing your hand, to make it look credible, you adjust your clothes before opening the door. Ethan is in front of you, staring at you from head to toe.

"Where are we going ?

You heard about a party going on and decided to join on a whim, tired of being locked up here all the time.

-You're personally not going anywhere, you hide your device in your pocket, fearing he might discover your project of leaving town. But I'm leaving for a party. He frowns.

-Who will there be? Who you're going out with ? Why am I not allowed ?

-You don't know them." You say without looking at him, too busy in closing your jacket. You considered lying to him in saying it's a girls only party. But thought otherwise.

"Then don't go."

You sigh, exasperated, and close your eyelids tightly to try to keep your cool. He's doing it again. Grabbing your purse, you search for your bus card while walking to the door.

"Well I want to, Ethan.

-But I don't."

His sentence stopped you in your tracks. The beating of your heart resonate in your head, giving you a headache. You know if he continues in this direction, you will explode. Frustration and rage were mixing in your mind. He has to stop, right now.

Controlling your breathing turns out to be much more difficult in those conditions. Slowly, your body turns towards him. You tilt your head to the side and chuckle dryly, speechless by his audacity. Staring at Ethan with frown accompanying a fake smile, one too happy for your predicament, you realize he doesn't seem uncomfortable at all after saying such stupids things to your face.

"And since when do you decide of what I do ?" you plainly laugh, not even trying to hide it, both sarcastically and in bewilderment.

"Why are you always trying to go and cheat ?

-Excuse me ?

-I'm literally here." he frowns, staring at you like you're the guilty one. "I'm... What the hell do you fucking need ? We can just spend the night on the couch and watch a movie, why're you always leaving me ?" Ethan is shaking his head angrily, showing you his emotions are true by using his body, making his curls bounce in the process.

Him and his stupid movies !

-You can't decide for me. Where does that come from Ethan ? I'm going where I want, when I want with who I want.

-No you're not.

That was the final straw.

-And who the fuck are you ? Who the fuck do you think you are ? You walk up to him, face dangerously close to his.

-Yeah, who am I ? Who am I to you ? What am I ? What are we ? He pushes himself towards you, making you backtrack. I thought we were bonded forever, why the sudden change ?

-I don't care about your teenage crisis for fuck sake ! Everything is always about you, you and you ! I want to leave, so you're going to let me fucking leave !

-You're in love with Chad, right ?

You frown your brow and open your mouth to answer but the shock and utter confusion prevents any words, sounds, from coming out. What is he even talking about ? What is wrong with him ? Where is the fucking link between Chad and you ? You never even pronounced his name in front of him !

-What the fuck, Ethan ! I don't even know him !

-That's what you're saying, now. But what if you're lying to me ? He looked hurt and you couldn't understand it. He was literally creating problem in his head and then getting mad over it.

-How do you even come to this conclusion ! I- You know what ? I don't want to argue. You need some fucking therapy, Ethan.

-That's why you want to leave tonight. You plan on having sex with Chad.

-What the fuck is wrong with you, Ethan. For real. It's not even funny it's just... It's just worrying. What the hell is wrong with you ?

-I'm perfectly fine, what is wrong with you ?

-Don't you dare play this on me.

-Nothing is fucking wrong with me, you always say that but I'm perfectly fine. I told you I just don't want you to have sex with Chad. Sorry for loving my girlfriend I guess !

-Your what now ? Because I don't recall agreeing to-

-That's not the point, you're gonna fuck that fucking idiot !

-Stop saying that ! Fuck, Ethan ! You're weird !

Ethan was a virgin, for sure. But does it excuse the fact that he was being an absolute creep right now ? No. Clearly not. Why was he so invested in your sex life ? And did he have to make it a whole conversation ?

-Ethan, you hold your face in despair, you really need some fucking help because I can't stand it anymore. You're destroying my life. Your lip wobble, you feel like crying but don't know why. Is it anger or sadness, maybe even exhaust. I am tired. So I'm begging you to please consult a therapist.

Out of shock, Ethan stays silent. Watching as your eyes water. He raises a hand towards your face, slowly. But you push it away and leave the place, slamming the door. In the stairs, you jump over a few steps and almost fall multiple times but you don't think about it. You need to leave. If you can find somewhere to sleep at it would be perfect, but you don't push your luck.

Fortunately, you didn't tell Ethan where you were headed. Once at the party, you would have fun and enjoy the moment without thinking about Ethan. That's the plan.

Only, his plan did not concord with yours as an armed masked man came for a surprise visit.

his hands

pairing(s): hairdresser!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: How do you make getting a haircut an erotic experience? You have Eddie Munson as your hairdresser, of course.

cw: explicit, smut, unprotected piv sex, mirror sex, workplace sex, hand kink, choking, dumbification, dom!eddie, touch-starved!reader, semi-sort-of subspace happenings, referring to genitals with gendered pronouns, slight body worship, getting weirdly horny over a head massage, sexual tension, negative self talk, hair cut/style mentioned but no description of hair color/type, the aftercare is the haircut lol, implied 90s au, eddie's like 30, reader's age unspecified, eddie is employee of the month in my heart, not proofread, no beta we die like men

a/n: this is weird. and came from an interesting experience i had at the hair salon. and yes that is corpse's hand in that pic i didn't want to spend all day looking for a header pic shut up shut up shut up

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

Your hands twitch on the copy of Elle magazine in your lap. The familiar waiting area of your local salon has new furniture, which still smells a bit like the cellophane it came wrapped in, and hasn’t been worn out by patrons just yet. You’d asked for your usual stylist, Melissa. Except, you haven’t been here in so long, and apparently Melissa doesn’t work here anymore.

“We have a new stylist in her place,” the greeter at the front desk told you kindly. “I could fit you in if you’d like that same station?”

The station doesn’t matter to you; they all look the same and have the same tools. Obviously, when it comes to getting your hair cut, the stylist makes the difference. But, since you’re a couple months too late to catch up with Melissa, a new stylist is who you’ll be working with.

The PA still plays some sort of weird pop-rock fusion that mixes Nat King Cole with Billy Idol, but you just try to focus on it to keep your leg from bouncing. You always get anxious like this when you come in for an appointment, even though you always tell yourself the same thing. It’s just hair. If you don’t like it, it’ll grow back. Or, if worst comes to worst, you could always shave it.

You hear your name being called, and you look up to the person who’d just approached the waiting area around the partition that blocks off the styling area. You blink, your mind going fuzzy as you try to make sense of what you see.

“Looks like I’ll be cutting your hair today,” the man standing at the end of the row of chairs says, with a grin that puts boyish dimples on his cheeks. “I’m Eddie.”

Eddie the Hairdresser is a bit more than you can handle right now. Between his long, curly hair, and the shirt he wears that gives you a view of the tattoos crawling up his arms, you think your knees might already be made out of jelly as you try to stand. But then he sticks out his hand for you to shake, and he’s wearing big, chunky rings that glint in the light, and you think you might swoon like a Victorian damsel.

“I’m, uh–” you begin intelligently, as you fit your hand into his big one. He squeezes just the tiniest bit and smirks at you. “I– I’m trying to, uh–”

“First time?” Eddie asks you with a tilt of his head. His brown eyes crease at the edges with mirth.

“Oh, um, no,” you mutter, looking everywhere but at his dimples. He has a tattoo on his neck of a dragon. You stare at it for a moment too long. “I used to come and see Melissa, forever ago.”

“Oh! Yeah, Melissa was great. She trained me,” Eddie starts jabbering as he tilts his head and leads you around the partition. You’re met with the smell of hairspray and the sound of blow dryers getting louder. “She’s a hard act to follow, but I hope I can do well enough. Let’s get you started with a wash, hm?”

You smile as he winks at you conspiratorially. You always feel a little bit awkward as you sit in the chair for the wash sinks, but Eddie ushers you into it with a little wave of his hand and gently– more gently than you can remember even Melissa being– lifts the ends of your hair and places a soft towel around your shoulders.

“What kept you away all this time?” Eddie asks pleasantly as he tests the water temperature. “Melissa’s been gone for a while.”

“Yeah, I, uh, I was working a lot,” you stumble into an explanation, your cheeks heating up a bit. It’s hard not to feel like you need to repent for not coming in to get a trim every month. “Last time I came in, I got my hair cut really short, so it wasn’t like I needed to come in for a trim for a long time, and by the time I really needed one it was long enough that I could do it myself… so, I just kept doing that.”

“So, what are we doing today?” Eddie inquires as his fingertips brush along your temples to tuck your hair back behind your ears and into the wash basin. With gentle prompting, he tilts your head back into the bin and begins to wet the ends of your hair.

“I figured it’s time I go short again,” you tell him, more confident than you really feel about it. It was a split second decision, one that you made because the reflection in the mirror was looking back at you with such a dead expression that you decided you needed a change in a bad way. For a lighter note, you supplement, “I’m tired of brushing tangles out of my hair every morning, and the other day I had a whole bird’s nest at the back of my neck, y’know.”

“Pssh, I know all about tangles. You saw my hair,” Eddie chuckles as the lukewarm water touches your scalp. Goosebumps rise on your arms while he rambles on, “I have to comb my hair wet or else I look like I got electrocuted. I never used to care about that sort of thing before I went to school for this, but once you start learning about proper treatment it’s kind of hard to ignore. I used to wash my hair with bar soap. Dry as hell, no conditioner. I’m surprised I got it long to begin with.”

You find yourself smiling just thinking about it. “Bar soap? With those curls?”

“Don’t tell anyone, my reputation will be ruined,” Eddie leans down and whispers to you while he reaches for a bottle of shampoo. You hear a crack of a bottle cap, and then his hands are in your hair again, working the sweet smelling soap into your roots. “I’m trying to get employee of the month, but they’re never gonna give it to me if they know I used to sabotage my own hair with Irish Spring.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” you tell him sweetly, but you’re barely paying attention to his words anymore. His fingers are pressing into areas on your head that haven’t had a proper massage in forever, and months of tension headaches are being brought to the forefront of your mind.

You never consider how oddly intimate having someone wash your hair is until you’re in the thick of it. Eddie’s thumbs massage circles into your occipitals with just a perfect amount of pressure, and the muscles down the back of your neck slowly melt and relax, moving with the swell of his fingertips. You suddenly feel very relaxed and very sleepy, and your eyelids drift closed as Eddie’s thumbs trace the line of your skull up to your hairline.

It even takes a moment for you to tune into the fact that he’s humming. Under his breath, he’s singing along to the notes of the song on the PA. He’s doing it in such a way that you’re sure he’s not even aware of it, himself, and you’d comment on it if you weren’t afraid that you’d embarrass him. His fingers are massaging circles around your temples now, and while you’re trying to focus on the sound of him harmonizing with the music, your mind is again trying to distract you with the feeling developing at the base of your spine. A ticklish, warm feeling spreads between your hips, disrupting the lull you find yourself in and forcing you to blink your eyes open.

Oh, no. We’re not doing that right now.

You can’t say you’re surprised that this is your response. His hands are all over your head and you haven’t been touched by anyone in… well, a very long time, to say the least. You’re probably a little starved for it, all things considered. But this is really the wrong time and place to be getting turned on by a guy’s touch.

You shift in your seat, trying not to be too obvious about it when Eddie pulls his hands away and begins rinsing your hair again. Crossing your legs would be a dead giveaway, but the warm feeling is turning into a subtle throb between your legs, and Eddie’s hands are back on your head, now gently combing the conditioner through the length of your hair as though he’s petting you.

After a few torturous minutes of trying to ignore the blooming arousal deep in your gut, Eddie cuts the water and wraps your hair in the towel to secure it.

“Now comes the hard part,” Eddie says, probably not meaning to make it sound so suggestive, but your mind seems to be taking its sweet time loitering in the gutter.

You stare dazedly up at the ceiling. Now is the hard part?

Eddie leads you to what used to be Melissa’s station, and swings the swivel chair around for you with a flourish. “Step into my office, sweetheart. I’ll get you all dressed up in a sexy robe and everything.”

You stifle a giggle as you slide into the seat. His “office” is one table in a row of other tables, and two feet away an older woman is getting her hair bleached by a girl with an undercut. As Eddie spins you around, the stylist shoots him a look.

“He’s a shameless flirt,” she tells you, making eye contact with you in the mirror. Eddie lays a smock across your front and buttons it at the back of your neck.

“I’ll have you know, I’ve been minding my manners very well,” Eddie huffs with feigned indignation as he unwraps your hair and tosses the towel onto the table in front of you. He still winks at you in the mirror when he leans around you to pick up a comb. “So far.”

You can’t help the way that your jaw clenches. He’s really not going to make this easy on you. You wonder if he knows where your mind has been for the last ten minutes.

Eddie moves around to the back of your chair and presses on a lever to raise it up, but nothing happens.

“Dammit,” Eddie curses under his breath, and turns to his coworker, who’s still loading tinfoil into the woman’s hair until she looks like something from Close Encounters. “I can’t believe you gave me the crap chair.”

“Early birds get the good chairs,” the stylist replies.

Eddie sighs and turns back to you, and finds you looking at him curiously in the mirror. “This is the only broken chair in the whole salon, and everyone hates it, so it tends to move around. You never know if you’ll get the crap chair.”

“That’s sabotage,” you giggle.

“I know! So I have to bend down to style you, I’m sorry.”

“I think I can handle it.” You watch him give you a look in the mirror that makes you shift in your seat again.

“So,” he begins, looking down at your head as he begins detangling your hair. “We’re going short?”

“That’s the plan,” you say with a puff of your chest. Please, god, don’t let it be horrible.

“How short?” he prompts, eyeing you in the mirror. “Shoulder length? Close cropped?”

You reach up a slightly shaky hand and pinch the length that you want between two fingers. “Here’s good.”

Eddie nods, looking somewhat pleased. “Are we doing layers?”

“Yeah, I think layers would be good for the long term.”

“Gives you more flexibility,” he agrees. He picks up a pair of scissors and begins measuring out the length that you want. “I’ll start with the length and then we’ll move to bangs, all right?”

“That… sounds good.” You’re temporarily discombobulated by Eddie taking the sides of your head and tilting your head down just the slightest bit.

“Stay just like that for me, okay?” he says quietly.

You blink down at the table in front of you, feeling your mouth go dry. “No problem.” Your hands nervously twitch beneath the cover of the smock across your body.

He goes back to humming along with the music on the PA, and you don’t have the heart to interrupt him. You’re trying to focus on anything but the nerves in your system and the way his touch keeps making you want to jump out of your seat.

After a moment, he stops humming and dusts a bit of hair off of your shoulder. “There we go. Good girl.”

You blink up at Eddie in the mirror, and then see the transformation from long hair to short on your head.

“How does it feel?” Eddie asks, leaning down to pinch the ends of the front and measure the evenness of the length. You stare at his fingers, and the tattoo of a bat just above his thumb on his left hand.

“Ten pounds lighter,” you joke. It feels like you’ve swallowed a lump of hot coal, but he doesn’t need to know that. Eddie grins, and his dimples make a glorious reappearance.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he murmurs, and again positions your head where he wants it, staring directly forward. “Honestly, even if you wanted to stop here, it would suit you. I don’t think there’s a way to make you look bad, sweetheart.”

“You’ve never seen me with a hangover,” you scoff, trying to ignore how your heart skips a beat.

Eddie smirks at you in the mirror while he starts working on giving your hair layers. “My guess is that you still look just as cute, but with a bit more of a grumpy look around here.” He gestures to your brow with one finger, and reaches over to set aside the texturizing scissors.

“So, what I’m hearing is, you think I’m cute?” you say, still trying to play up the confidence that you don’t really have. Your hand squeezes your thigh under the smock you wear, your nails digging in for purchase.

“No, I think you’re gorgeous,” Eddie says swiftly, like it’s just a matter of fact. “But, I think you’d also be cute when you’re hungover. Plus, with this hair, you’d probably look all unkempt and I love the mental image that’s creating.”

His hands fluff the layers that he’s put into your hair, ruffling them gently and carding his fingers through them to measure their length. You’re sure that he’s not aware of the moon-eyed look you’re giving him in the mirror.

Except, then he moves around you to start working on your bangs, and the smirk that comes across his face when he looks down at yours is enough to make you lose your composure. He knows everything that’s going on in your head, you’re sure of it.

Cocky bastard.

“I like your tattoos,” you murmur, just loud enough for him to hear over the music and the sounds of blow dryers all around you. He’s face to face with you, so close that you can count the freckles on his pale face.

Eddie’s eyes light up. “Yeah? What about ‘em?”

“Well,” you lick your lips, your eyes flicking down to the one on his neck, and the one peeking out of his collar. “They’re colorful, and they look like you put a lot of thought into picking out each one. They’re pretty.”

“Hmm. You flatter me,” he remarks, trying to hide his grin and failing. If you look closely, there’s just the slightest pink tint to his cheeks that wasn’t there before. He finishes trimming your bangs, and just before he stands up, he chucks you lightly under the chin. “Keep it up and you might get a freebie.”

A free what? You’re imagining he means some sort of a free hair wash or something, but you can’t keep your mind from going to unprecedented places.

“All right. Bear with me, I’m gonna blow dry you now.” He turns your chair away from the mirror to get you a bit closer to the blow dryer, and for a few minutes, there’s a lull in the conversation.

Then, all at once, the blow dryer shuts off, and Eddie leans down towards you. “Ready, sweetheart?”

“Eddie, you’re gonna make me nervous.”

“Well, we don’t want that.” You just barely turn your head to look at him; just enough that your noses barely brush. You steal a breath that comes from his mouth, and then, Eddie turns you to the mirror. “Like I said,” he murmurs, “There’s not a way to make you look bad.”

“Holy shit,” you breathe. And holy shit is right– he’s done a complete number on you. Your hair is voluminous, framing your face in a way that you haven’t seen it before.

“What do you think?” he asks, and for a moment, you think it’s a rhetorical question.

“I think you’re way better than Melissa,” you tell him, once you realize that it’s not rhetorical and he’s really asking you what you think. You’re sure that he’d make adjustments if you needed, but you don’t need him to. He’s read you like a book. He’s made you look better than you could ever have hoped for.

“I’m gonna need that in writing,” he tells you, with the most serious expression you’ve ever seen. “For employee of the month, and all.”

“Tell me where to sign.”

He jerks his head, and all at once the fog lifts. You follow him to the front desk like a lost puppy, feeling like you don’t actually want to leave. You want to sit in his chair while he cuts your hair until you have none left. You want to keep his attention on you and stare at his smile, his hair, his eyes, his tattoos, for the rest of time.

“I look forward to next time, princess,” he tells you, but you’re hyperfocused on the touch of his hand to your lower back.

You watch him telling something to the girl at the front desk, his hand wrapped around the edge of the table and distracting you for the umpteenth time. You watch his silver rings glint in the light, and you think about them weaving through your hair; you think about his fingers and how they’d feel on places besides your head.

“So, when did you want to schedule an appointment?”

You blink a few times, and in a dazed glow you come back to where you are. At the front desk. Paying for your haircut. “Sorry, what?”

“The… next appointment? For your trim?” The secretary tilts her head, smiling at you kindly. “When did you want to come in?”

“Oh,” you murmur, looking down at the keyboard that she’s typing on. Eddie has disappeared back around the partition with a sweet smile and a wave cast in your direction. You just want him to come back again. “What would you suggest? Y’know, for this kind of a cut?”

“Hmm,” the girl hums, and sizes you up. Not in a way that makes you doubt yourself, but in a way that tells you she’s taking your question seriously. “Probably about four weeks. See if the length is something you’re happy with?”

“Great. Four weeks from now. With Eddie.” You peer down at the rack of business cards on the deck, and pick up the one farthest to the right.

Eddie Munson, Stylist. Set an appointment today!

By four weeks, your hair has already reached your shoulders, and the ease of maintenance is starting to wear off. When you get a call reminding you about your appointment with Eddie, your head reels with the knowledge that you’ll see him again.

You calmly assert to yourself that this time, there will be no mooning over him. He’s just your hairdresser. You figure he just has a job to do, tips to earn, and so on. You don’t know if he’s available, you don’t know if he’s single or if he even likes you the way that you like him. You don’t know anything about him, really.

False. You know that he used to wash his hair with bar soap.

You snicker to yourself as you sit in the waiting area yet again. The only available slot for him today was 6:30; pretty close to closing time, but for a Wednesday you figured it was best for you to come late, since you’d have time to get yourself together after work.

You’ve never been in the salon so late. It’s getting dark outside, and the overhead lights cast a semi-yellow glow around the waiting area. Business is dying down now. Not as many people love the idea of getting their hair cut so late, you suppose, but it was either this or wait another week to get an appointment with Eddie, and with the rate that your hair is growing, you’d probably be going insane by then.

“Hey, you,” Eddie says, popping his head around the partition with a grin that makes you nearly melt in your seat. His curly hair hangs in a curtain out in midair, and his long neck stretches out for you to take a gander at. “Just couldn’t stay away, huh?”

You smile at him. “Well, you’re the only person I trust with my head.”

What the fuck did you just say?

Eddie smirks, glowing pink around the ears. “I’ll keep that in mind, princess. Let me clean up my station real quick and I’ll getcha goin’, all right?”

You swallow back the lump in your throat. “Yeah, sure, no worries.”

When Eddie disappears again, you slide down in your seat and clap your hand across your eyes. You’re sort of glad that nobody was in the waiting room to see that ridiculous exchange, but you still have to sit with your embarrassment while Eddie cuts your hair. Again.

There will be no pining. There will be no getting weirdly turned on by him washing your hair. Nope, not happening this time.

This time, when Eddie ushers you back behind the partition, there’s only one two other stylists who are there cleaning their stations. The PA has been turned way down, so you can barely register what it’s playing at all.

“You actually came at a good time,” Eddie tells you as you trail after him toward the wash station. “You’re the last person for the night, so I can really take my time with you.”

“O-oh.. really?” You beat back your perverted thoughts with a stick. “To do what?”

“Oh, y’know,” Eddie shrugs as he lays a towel around your shoulders again, just as gentle as he was the last time. “We could do something totally crazy. Who knows what’ll happen?”

His voice is animated, pleasantly filling the empty space where your thoughts might become too much if you let them wander.

Over the past month, after you’d recovered from your last meeting with Eddie, and as you were preparing for this one, you came up with a few things that you could ask him about– just to keep your mind from going to places you didn’t want them to. To save yourself the embarrassment and the ordeal of having to play whack-a-mole with your libido, and all.

“Did you get employee of the month?” you begin with.

Eddie laughs, and then sighs. “No, our manicurist got it. I’ll get it this time, I just gotta stay on my A-game.” His blunt nails rake your hair away from your forehead and temples, and a lukewarm stream of water hits the crown of your skull.

You nearly want to jump out of your skin at the feeling. “Was it because they gave you the crap chair too many times?”

“Probably. But I got here early today, so the good news is you don’t have to sit in the crap chair this time.”

“Aww, I kind of liked the crap chair. Kept me grounded.” You hear him huff a laugh as he starts lathering shampoo through your hair. Trying to keep your mind running so you don’t focus too hard on how good his rings feel scraping against your scalp, you ask, “How’d you get into this line of work?”

“Honestly, it’s kind of a weird story,” Eddie starts, beginning to massage his fingertips into your skull in a way that makes your toes curl in your shoes. You tighten your hands on the arms of your chair and take a deep breath. “So, it took me three tries to graduate high school, right? I was terrible at it. And, y’know, I figured I’d only end up working in a garage or something for the rest of my life. But I was cutting my mane all on my own, and eventually I started cutting my friends’ hair too, because they were all in college and it’s cheaper than going to a salon. I mean–” he chuckles, and begins rinsing your hair– “believe me. I know all about it. And it just came to me really easily, ‘cause I used to be great at drawing and crafting and stuff. And it’s kind of the same thing– once you learn the medium, it’s smooth sailing from there.”

The salon has gone eerily quiet, and by the time Eddie wraps your head and sits you up, you realize that the other stylists have gone, and you and Eddie are the last people in the building. You’d be a little nervous about it, but you got Eddie on a roll, and honestly, he makes it so easy to listen to him.

“Anyways, one day my friend Robin says to me, ‘You should totally get your credential for this,’ and I said, ‘You have to go to school for this shit?’” You blow a raspberry of a laugh, no longer feeling anxious as he sits you down on his not-crap styling chair. He drapes a smock over you, and cracks a grin at you in the mirror. “I know! So, I’ve never been great at school, and I can’t afford to pay for beauty school tuition on the pay I was making at the time, so my friends… they pooled together some money to at least pay for my first semester. And then– get this– I got on the fucking Dean’s list.”

“No way.”

“I did! Yours truly!” He does a little bow, and while you’re still giggling, he begins detangling your hair. “So, I got grants. And I finished top of my class, because as it turns out, when you don’t hate what you’re studying it’s really easy to do well. I got my certification framed and everything. Show that to my damn high school principal.” He shakes his head, but the smile is still on his face when he says, “But now I just have to get that fucking employee of the month.”

“Anything I can do to help?” you offer, admiring his face in the mirror again without even realizing you’re doing it. You love seeing him grin, showing off his dimples and the smile lines around his eyes.

“Oh, you know,” he shrugs with a cute scrunch of his nose. “Just make sure you write my boss a letter saying how fantastic and amazing I am and how there’s no other hair stylist like me and how you’ll never find anyone as cool and sexy anywhere else. Something subtle like that oughta do it.”

“Shouldn’t be difficult,” you tell him smoothly. “I already had that one drafted.”

He chuckles, his eyes sparkling when he reaches for his scissors, but you still notice the faint blush on his cheeks that he tries to hide behind his curtain of hair. “Flattery. You know what that gets you with me.”

A freebie. You hear his voice echoing in your head, and you swallow past the dryness in your throat. “Like… what? A mohawk?”

“Would you want a mohawk?” he asks you, pausing his movements to peer at you. “Because that’d be metal as hell, I’d be so down.”

You laugh. “I appreciate it, but I think… probably not today.”

Eddie hums, and returns to smoothing your hair back away from your face. “So we’re just doing the same as last time?”

“Yeah, not too flashy.”

“Gotcha. It’s a shame, though. I’m always up for a challenge.”

“Well, I think that short hair is just easier to maintain,” you tell him, at a loss for what else to say. He glances up at you in the mirror, and locks eyes with you. “And it doesn’t make my neck look as stumpy as it is.”

Eddie tilts his head with a confused pout, and then he reaches down and wraps his hands loosely around your throat. Your breath stalls in your chest, your eyes focused on the sight of his hands on you, his thumbs gently stroking the nape of your neck and his ring clad fingers pressed just below your chin. His fingers link and hold you, creating a necklace that you’ll never be able to find anywhere else.

Oh, shit. Oh, fucking hell. Everything below your waist draws up tight and hard, your thighs clamping together like that’s going to somehow will away the hold that Eddie has on you.

You lift your eyes and find his in the mirror, dark and focused in on you. You hold each others’ gaze for a prolonged moment, not saying anything, you barely even daring to breathe. You can’t imagine what the expression on your face looks like. You’re too busy staring at the one on his– like there are a million thoughts running through his head, and you’re desperate to know every single one of them.

“Nah, I think you’re perfect.” And just like that, Eddie moves on like nothing happened, picking up his scissors again. Like he didn’t just fry your brain. Like you’re not halfway to cardiac arrest.

You’re dumbstruck as he starts trimming the ends of your hair. You told yourself there would be no mooning over him. No pining. But here, you are, turned on beyond belief, and having to deal with the heartbeat pulsing between your legs, and not shift around, because you don’t want to fuck him up.

When he pinches the ends of the front to see if they’re level, you’re staring directly at him in the mirror. Not even trying to hide it, either. If you did try, you’d most certainly fail. Eddie frowns in concentration, a bit of a crease to his brow as he peers at his hands.

Eddie tuts. “I’m trying to figure out– is it–?” He grabs the back of your chair, and suddenly you’re being swiveled around to face him. “Sometimes these mirrors don’t even help a guy out at the worst goddamn times…”

Your breathing is way heavier than it needs to be. Is it hot in here? Did they crank up the heat in this place specifically to spite you? Eddie’s face is so close to yours, and you’re not sure if the fact that you aren’t in the crap chair is helping. You’re higher up now, and he doesn’t have to bend down as far to get level with you, and his eyes are the color of dark chocolate, and you–

Eddie’s hand comes up and snips the tip off the right side. “There we go. One side was all fucked.”

“Well, we don’t want anything getting fucked, do we?” you mutter under your breath. What’s left of it.

Eddie pauses and his eyes flick up to yours. His eyelashes are long and flutter as he holds your gaze again, while you try hard not to look away. There’s that unreadable expression on his face from earlier, morphing slowly into something like amusement, but that could also just be your mind playing tricks on you. Don’t look at his lips. Don’t look at his lips. Don’t look at his li–

“Screw it.” Eddie tosses his scissors to the ground and his hands come up to grip your face, smoothing your hair back tenderly before he kisses you.

You open your mouth and Eddie is in it, searching, feeling. His hands hold your head firm and you feel the metal of his rings digging into your cheeks, and you’re splitting apart at the seams from the way he’s completely invading your senses. He smells like warm, spicy cologne and hairspray. He tastes like cigarettes and cherry coke. He moans into you, and the sound is like heaven.

You lift your legs and wrap them around his waist, and he grunts before he pulls away just the tiniest bit to give you breathing room.

“This is highly unprofessional, Mr. Munson,” you whisper to him, as if you don’t have him caged in with your thighs.

“I don’t… actually fucking care,” Eddie admits, his nose just nudging against yours. “Got so fuckin’ hard the minute I saw you. What am I gonna do with you, huh?”

“Dunno,” you murmur against his mouth, “I’m waiting for you to tell me.”

“C’mere.” He pulls you out of your seat, and you practically trip over the smock he clipped around your neck.

“Get me out of this thing,” you giggle, letting your forehead fall onto his shoulder. You inhale a deep breath of his cologne, feeling his chest shake with his laugh.

“Aww, but you look so cute,” Eddie coos, but his hands come up to undo the button at the back of your neck. The fabric slides to the ground, and Eddie kicks it aside as he crowds you back against the table. Your ass hits the edge of it and your hand falls onto a comb when you try to steady yourself. He pulls you flush to his body, his hands caging you in. Eddie’s tongue dances over your bottom lip and you moan, lifting your hands to tangle in the fabric of his shirt.

He ducks his head to help you pull his shirt off before he tosses it somewhere to the side. You’re distracted by his tattoos, each one of them beautiful and detailed, standing out against his pale skin.

Then, you remember something that he told you earlier, and you connect some dots that you hadn’t even realized were there. “Did you draw these?”

Eddie’s grin could blind the sun. He blushes pink down his neck and shoulders. “Yeah, I did.”

“They’re gorgeous. I meant what I said before– I really like them.”

He sucks in a deep breath, and then his lips are on you, everywhere they can manage. On your face, your neck, trying to get at your collarbone but your shirt is in the way. He fists it in his hands, making a petulant noise in the back of his throat. “Help me out here, sweetheart.”

Your shirt lands somewhere near his. You don’t see exactly where, because he’s pulling the straps of your bra down your shoulders so that he can mouth kisses across your breasts, pulling down on the cups until he can graze his teeth over your nipple. It takes you so off guard that you bite back a squeal, tugging at his hair and rubbing your thighs together to stave off the incessant throbbing between them.

When you look down at him, his eyes are so dark that they’re almost black. Your heart thuds erratically in your chest, your breath not coming even though you gasp and pull at the air with everything you have. You can’t really fathom why he has you so worked up– just that it’s been so long since anyone touched you like this, and now that you have it it’s like every little point of contact is on fire.

Eddie grazes his teeth across your breast, and your knees nearly buckle out from under you. You grab his face, guiding him back up to you.

“What were you thinking when you grabbed my throat?” you ask him, your voice hoarse in the back of your throat.

His hands are on you now, grabbing at your waist and hips, squeezing like he’ll never let go. “I can show you, if you want,” Eddie answers, and he sounds just as wrecked as you. Maybe more.

There’s absolutely no way you’re going to refuse that. Not with the way you’ve been lusting after him since meeting him. You nod. “Eddie, please–”

He kisses you hard again before mumbling against your lips, “Turn around and take off your pants.”

You do what he asks without a second’s hesitation. You watch him in the mirror as he follows your movements, undoing his own belt, and you kick your jeans and underwear off without thinking about why you’re here, without wondering about the repercussions. You figure you can probably do that later.

Right now, Eddie’s smoothing his hand up your spine, and the feeling of his fingers dancing along your skin sends shivers through your body. His fingers weave through the hair at the nape of your neck, and he pulls just slightly, until you bare your neck.

Your breath hitches in your throat. Your heart hammers as you watch him, dark eyes and hair and rosy cheeks in the mirror, his carnation colored lips twisting into a wicked grin at you. He kisses your shoulder so gently it’s like the fluttering of a feather.

“‘Stumpy neck,’” Eddie scoffs under his breath, and you tremble. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”

He bends you forward until you’re face to face with yourself in the mirror– but you’re looking at him, gazing into your eyes while he teases himself at your entrance.

“Oh my god,” you groan, dropping your head almost immediately at the feeling. Your head is spinning, your body rigid with anticipation and breaking out in a cool sweat already.

“Mm-mm,” Eddie hums condescendingly, and a hand clamps around your throat, hoisting your head up again. A gasp tears from your lips. In the mirror, his eyes are blazing. “You look at me while I fuck you. That’s the only way this is gonna happen. Got it?”

You nod. You want to shrink away from the heat in his gaze, but you want him to fuck you way more than that. You shudder as he leans forward, pressing in until his chin nearly rests on your shoulder.

“I need to hear you say it, baby.” His thumb strokes lightly along your pulse point, and you make a soft noise in the back of your throat without thinking. “Tell me you understand.”

“I understand,” you tell him, barely a whisper, but he hears it all the same.

“Good girl.”

Eddie grins, kisses the nape of your neck, and pulls back. When he does, you’re barely able to take a breath before he pushes his hard cock into you, and the noise you make is almost embarrassing in its volume.

“Ohhh, you’re absolutely soaked, baby. She’s practically dripping– is this just for me?” Eddie murmurs in your ear, grinding his hips up against your ass for emphasis. The lewd noise that it makes has your toes curling and the tips of your ears burning.

“Fuck,” you moan, ginding back against him to push him deeper. He’s so thick and you’re so sensitive that your mind is completely blanking at the feeling.

Eddie notices, and he chuckles as grabs your waist with one hand as he thrusts his hips forward. “I’ve barely gotten my cock in you, princess. Don’t go getting all dumb on me already.” His voice goes straight between your legs and your cunt pulses around him, making him hiss through his teeth. The hand on your throat tightens just slightly. “I asked you a question.”

You keen, your mind reeling as you search for words. You manage to nod, babbling out, “Yes, it’s– it’s all for you, Eddie, been wanting you so bad, s’all I can think about–”

Eddie coos, grabbing your chin to shut you up while a particularly hard thrust of his hips knocks the wind out of you. He turns his head and grazes his lips against your cheek, eyeing you in the mirror as he says, “I knew it.”

Your eyes are on him, on his hand around your neck, on his rings pressed into your skin. All that your fucked-out mind can think is that it’s hot, and you like him and his strong hands and his pretty eyes and the way his cock is reaching places inside you that make thoughts really difficult to come by.

Eddie whispers something against your skin, and you miss it because you’re hooked on the way his eyelashes flutter for just a moment while his lips are pressed against your cheek. You lift your hand, until it rests over his against your throat, his fingers just barely laced with yours.

“Again,” you say– it comes out like a command, but you mean it like a question. You don’t know what the fuck he just said.

“You’re so beautiful,” he repeats, and his voice nearly cracks with the desperation in it. His sweat slick chest is pressed against your back, his thrusts rocking your hips into the table and jostling it into the wall, but his voice is so tender. “So perfect for me.”

Your mouth falls open, your hand tightening on his. You pull, until he loosens his grip and his hand comes away with yours. You kiss his palm, then his fingertips, holding his gaze in the mirror as you slowly, gently swirl your tongue around his middle and forefinger.

Eddie’s eyes narrow coyly at you, while his thrusts make you mewl and clutch at the table with your free hand. You suck his two fingers deep into your mouth, earning a pleased groan from him in your ear– a sound which you want to hear again and again, no matter what it takes.

“Look at you, sweet little thing, gettin’ my fingers all wet like that,” he whispers to you, biting his lip as you grind back against him. “Wanna do something with ‘em?”

You moan, letting his fingers slide from your mouth with a wet pop. You guide his hand down your chest, down your stomach, until his fingers slide between your legs.

“There you go,” Eddie coos, taking over from your guidance as his fingers start rubbing small circles against your clit. “Atta girl, showin’ me what you want. Just needed me to fuck you stupid first, hm?”

Your cunt pulses, and you cum with a loud moan that echoes off of the mirror in front of you and around the empty space. Eddie cries out, and you feel his warmth fill you as he cums. He slows until he stills inside you, and then he holds you, panting against your cheek, his arm wrapped around your middle and his hand on your throat.

You haven’t moved your hand away from his, you realize, after a few moments of bliss in the aftershocks. You drop your hand to the table with a thud, earning a soft, breathless chuckle from him.

“Can I take you out to dinner?” Eddie asks you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

“I think you can do whatever you want with me,” you murmur dazedly, just barely shifting and making him hiss. He’s still inside you, trying to hold you steady while he calms himself down.

“Good.” There’s a kiss to your cheek, and Eddie grunts as he slowly eases out of you. “I still need to finish your goddamn haircut.”

“Eddie, we’re naked.”

“And?” His hands are moving quicker than your mind is, yanking a kleenex from the table so that he can bend down and wipe the insides of your thighs. You jump at the sudden touch, but he clamps a hand around your hip to hold you still. “The sooner I finish your hair, the sooner I close up, and the sooner we go get dinner. You like Italian?”

“I didn’t think your pillow talk would involve finishing my haircut,” you grumble, but there’s a smile worming it’s way onto your face even as you say it.

“That’s the name of the game, sweetheart,” Eddie says, tossing the tissue into the trash. He picks up your underwear, and the smock from the floor. “Now, sit your cute ass down. I’m not gonna get employee of the month by dishing out orgasms and not bangs, y’know.”

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vitzi9

1 year ago

i knew what i was going to see, but i still gasped when i saw it.

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vitzi9

2 years ago

lol some Miami firefighter got suspended for texting this

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vitzi9

5 months ago

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vitzi9

1 year ago

So apparently some people new to Tumblr think a repost and a reblog are the same thing, so when they see creators asking for people to not repost, they're thinking the creators are saying to not reblog 😭

Y'all, a repost is when you copy/download the work and create a new post using the work making it seem as if it's yours. A reblog is you using a site provided feature to share the creator's post directly from the creator so that it's still credited to them and they still get all of the traction/notes from the work.

Please, reblog fics/art/etc. that you enjoy! Reblogging is not reposting! Creatives need support too, and reblogging is a way to do that!

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vitzi9

2 years ago

having a grocery list filled with fruits and vegetables and taking your trophy husband Eddie along who picks up every vegetable and says "is this *insert item on your list*?" and you just have to giggle and be like "no baby" and he pulls a "ah. i'm close though right?" signature smirk and cute little peck on the lips before he's onto the next display of veggies

Oh my god shut up shut up shut up. This is my fucking kink.

Eddie’s holding up an avocado and you’re like “babe we’re making Italian food tonight.”

“Does that makes a difference?” He asks, looking down at the unripe avocado in his hand. You smile at him so patiently that he laughs.

“Avocados are great with Mexican food…not so much for pasta. You know what, though? Grab some. We’ll make guacamole tomorrow.”

Eddie’s smile is so wide his face can barely contain it. He grabs a few avocados - but not before you explain how to pick out the perfect one, not too soft and not too hard - and gently places them in the cart. You move on to the next part of the produce section, trusty list in hand, but before you can select the perfect head of garlic Eddie’s arms are winding around your waist and his chin is resting in the dip of your shoulder.

“What is it, baby?” you ask, laughing at his tight grip. He places a fat, wet kiss on your cheek before speaking quietly in your ear.

“Thanks for taking care of me, Princess.”

The words send chills throughout your body. Chills that are 50% romantic and 50% deeply inappropriate for the current grocery store setting. You turn your head to do your best and look over your shoulder at him.

“You’re the one who takes care of me, Eddie.” You say it definitively and with a slowly spreading smile on your face. It makes Eddie’s knees feel weak, so he tightens his hold on you in order to stay grounded.

“So what you’re saying is we complete each other. Like some fairytale shit?” He leans down and drags his nose up the line of your cheek and you giggle, clutching onto him.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” you agree, before planting a deep kiss right on his lips - a kiss that’s probably offending every grandmother and house wife perusing the produce beside you.

Eddie is the one to pull away first, chuckling when you try to put your tongue in his mouth. His fingers caress the skin exposed between the hem of your top and the upper edge of your pants.

“Okay, before I fuck you in this grocery store, please, for the love of god, tell me what’s next on the list.”

“Remember how I taught you to pick out onions?” You ask, rubbing a stray bit of your lipstick which has transferred to the corner of his mouth. Eddie straightens dramatically and with purpose.

“How many onions do you require, my lady?”

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vitzi9

1 year ago

to love you the best I can || miles morales

warning/s: arguing, descriptions of injury, use of unprofessional medical tools.

a/n: there is one sentence in spanish here, I used a lot of posts people made on here about adding spanish to write it. it's literally just four words but it could still be wrong so please let me know so I can change it if ever. ( ˘ ³˘)♥

To Love You The Best I Can || Miles Morales

"You know, if you think about it I'm kind of helping you further your education," Miles joked through a grimace as you cleaned the gash on his chest with nothing more but a freshly laundered shirt and warm soapy water.

He was laying on his bed with the top of his suit removed, and you were kneeling on the floor at his side. The look you gave him was enough to make him wince more.

"You're not funny Morales," you hissed, your tone juxtaposing the way you wiped the blood off him. The wounds weren't even that deep, there were just so many of them.

And that's what made you almost shake as you worked.

"I'm sorry," is all he can say as he looks at you, dead focused on his chest, your lip between your teeth, and tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

Your worry only became more clear to him as your head snapped up at him.

"Well you should be sorry," you almost growled, dipping the shirt in the now pink water.

"I thought you called me to hangout," you said, shaking the shirt before ringing it out.

'"Not play doctor," you glared at him, resuming your cleaning for emphasis.

"You could have at least told me that you were hurt so I could've brought the right things to help you!" You said, a little too loud this time, gesturing to the other shirt on his bedside table.

Beside it was a pair of scissors that you were gonna use to cut it up into makeshift bandages.

"Hey tone it down a bit," he whispered, trying to get up only to be stopped by a sudden jolt of pain before he continued.

"My parents are still asleep."

"Maybe I want them to hear," you tell him, placing your hand on his chest to push him back on the bed gently.

"At least your mom would actually know what she's doing," you sighed, moving on to the smaller gashes on his stomach that he didn't even know was there.

"Seriously Miles, just because I help at the clinic does not mean I'm medically trained."

"I'm sorry," he said again, hands moving to grasp at the bedsheets. His chest was on fire, for more reasons than one.

"I didn't know who else to call."

"Well if you were gonna call you should've at least told me the real reason why you did," you said through clenched teeth.

"Don't give me that I miss you bullshit."

"I didn't want you to come here worried," he explained, his hand moving to stop your wiping, and inevitably your shaking. That's when you finally looked back up at him.

"Miles," you breathed.

"It's my job to worry about you."

This is when the dam broke. Choked sobs began to escape your lips, and the shaking of your hands moved up to your shoulders.

Miles' eyes began to glaze over at the sight.

"No matter what," you said in between breaths.

"I will always worry, because I love you," your lips quivered as you placed the shirt in the bowl so you could hold Miles's hands in yours completely.

This made his chest tighten.

"So please, if you're hurt like this. Or if anything else happens and you need me, just tell me right away, tell me the truth right away," you practically begged, moving up on your knees so your eyes locked with his honey brown hues.

"So I can help the best I can," you explained, bringing his hands to your lips, kissing them despite your constant shakes.

His throat began to burn at your actions.

"So I can love you the best I can," you ended, a new round of tears trailing down your cheeks.

"Okay, Miles?"

The room stood silent for a second, and you searched him for confirmation. But all he gave you was a look you've never seen before, and that scared you.

"Miles?" You repeated, the shake in your voice becoming worse.

And he nods, closing his eyes as tears begin to trickle down his cheeks and under his chin.

Your gaze instantly softened.

"Oh, ligaya," your voice rasped as you gently moved to straddle his waist, avoiding his wounds as you did despite your shaking.

You had dropped his hands and brought yours to his cheeks, wiping away his tears gently with the pads of your thumbs. You tried so desperately to calm yourself down so you could comfort him.

And he knew that. It only made his cries worse as he tried to look away from you. But you held him firmly, the best you could, placing your forehead on his.

"I'm sorry" you cooed, bringing your fingers to his ears, pinching them gently and rubbing smooth circles behind them.

"I'm not mad," you whispered.

"I was just scared."

"No, I know," he finally responded, a slight crack to his voice. He moved up to your level, despite your efforts to stop the strain.

He needed to do this.

"It's okay, I was too," he explained, opening his eyes and now wiping your tears that still spilled down your cheeks despite yourself.

He hated himself for causing them.

"Thank you so much for this," he tells you, even though he knew it wasn't enough. It would never be, but he'd try to make it for you.

"Thank you for being here for me," he took a deep breath, moving back to place a kiss on your nose before placing his forehead back on yours.

"I promise to be more honest with you about the spider stuff," he swore, moving away so he could look you in the eyes.

"I love you, so much," he said, making his voice crack again.

You gave him a smile that told him it was okay. You were okay.

You both would be okay.

"Te necesito, mi tesoro," he whispered, his thumb tracing your bottom lip, and he smiled as you placed a gentle kiss on it.

"I don't know what that means," you chuckled, voice still raspy, but now better as you stopped shaking.

"But thank you."

He echoed your chuckle, now placing his cheek on your shoulder, turning to kiss below your ear before he translated his words.

"I need you, my treasure," he whispered, beginning to trail his fingers up and down your spine.

And you hugged him back while still keeping a safe distance between you.

You both stayed there in silence for a while, basking in each other's presence. You breathed in each other's scent and memorised the way your bodies felt curved into one another.

You would have stayed there forever if you didn't still have a job to do.

"Let me finish cleaning you up," you said, pulling away from him.

"I just need to do one final wipe and I'll wrap them up. And I guess I have to stay the night to monitor you," you began to ramble as you transversed through all the medical knowledge you knew.

"You might run a fever and I wanna be here if you do. But hopefully you don't because things can only go downhill from there," your voice has suddenly become panicky, and Miles was quick to calm you down this time.

"Staying the night," he said with a teasing tone, hand moving down to your waist, squeezing the curve softly.

"Are you flirting with me doctor?" He quirked a playful brow.

"I heard it's wrong to mess around with patients."

"Shut up," you smiled, making his efforts not for naught.

"Don't tell me you don't like my bedside manner," you played along.

"Well actually you could be doing better if I'm being honest."

"Oh please," you rolled your, moving to get off of him, and his hands chased you to pull you back, but you gave him a scalding look as you picked the shirt from the bowl.

"Let me finish this up okay, so you can finally get some rest," you bargained as he began to pout.

"I'll lay next to you of course," you added, making him smile once more.

"Alright babe," he sighed, watching you ring the shirt out for the final time.

"I'm all yours."

And he was, and always will be.

As he watched you wipe him down with the utmost care, sweat dripping on your brow, and tear streaks on your cheeks, he silently promised you that he'd be better. That he'd treat you the way you deserve. That he'd love you the best he can.

let me know what you think hehe

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