your my new fav travnat writer PLSSSSS write more for them
I got you babe have some Nat and Travis waking up in the hospital
Linoleum Flights
Description: Nat wakes up in the hospital and Travis is nowhere to be seen.
There’s a bird chirping, loud and annoying, rousing her from her sleep. Natalie moves to pull her blanket higher, a sharp prick in the back of her hand, making her eyes open slowly. It’s bright in her hut, too bright. Her eyes hurt as they try to adjust to the light, and that damn bird is still chirping when the smell hits her.
Sterile and harsh, the wave of unfamiliar sounds comes crashing in, and she sits up with a start. A hospital, she’s in a hospital, wearing some shitty ass gown, an IV in her hand, and there’s no bird, but monitors at her bedside.
Right, they were rescued. She remembers the helicopters, the way Lottie screamed and fought against the Search and Rescue guys, who looked surprisingly unfazed as they strapped her into her seat. Travis held her hand the whole ride, joking that if the helicopter went down, at least they knew how to survive. She’d kicked him in the shin for that joke.
She glances around the room taking stock, expecting to see Travis curled up in the corner or something, but he’s not there, he’s not anywhere and her chest starts to tighten. The monitor starts beeping louder, faster, and she can’t breathe, her heart beating wildly in her chest. The noise is too loud, too artificial, clawing at her mind, no not clawing, but hammering, drilling, an unstoppable piercing sound that makes her head pound. She rips the IV out, hissing at the pain, and stands on shaky legs, right as a nurse comes hurrying in.
“You’re awake.” Relief flickers across the nurse’s face, a soft, kind face, her brown hair swept up in a bun streaked through with gray. Her scrubs are green like the trees she’s just escaped, a smiley face pin attaching her ID card to her shirt, Diana, it reads, Diana stands between her and Travis, her and freedom.
Natalie nods, it’s all she can do, and she takes another step. She’s always been good at finding escape routes, but there’s only one door in and out of here, she’ll have to be fast.
“Whoa, okay, hold on, let’s not try to run just yet.” Diana urges calmly, reaching for her tentatively, but her words barely reach her, as if she’s hearing them through water or a thick fog.
All she can hear is her heartbeat in her ears, and that damn beeping, and she pushes past Diana, through the still open door. The cold of the linoleum reaches through the socks they must’ve put on her as she runs, calling out Travis’ name, dodging orderlies and nurses scanning the walls trying to find his name written on one of the doors. She sees him down the hall, dark hair and tan skin stark against the pale hospital gown and she skids to a stop halfway to avoid running into him. It doesn’t matter, he doesn’t stop, he crashes into her, pulls her into his arms, burying his face in her neck, his hand in her hair.
“Nat, oh thank god I—”
She can’t help it, she sobs, sobs into his shoulder, whole body shaking, lungs working overtime to draw in air. He holds her tighter, and she feels awful, she’s strong, they survived, they’re free, and here she is clinging to him and crying so hard she can barely breathe.
“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay, we’re okay, we’re safe, it’s over.” He soothes; his own voice shaky, despite the steadiness of his hands.
Someone tries to ease her away from him, but it’s useless so they escort them both back to Travis’ room, and he reluctantly lets Diana put his IV back in only after she promises Natalie can stay.
“Why don’t I need an IV?” She asks, perched on the edge of Travis’ bed, holding his gaze, keeping him from watching the needle go in.
He gives a one shoulder shrug, holding her one of her hands with his free one, his eyes searching her face, scanning it as if trying to memorize every detail.
“The doctor wants you back on one, but it can wait until a machine can be moved in here, since we don’t want any more jailbreaks.” Diana says, before gently setting Travis’ hand back down on the bed. She picks up a little clicker and a remote. “Click this if you need something, and I’m sure I don’t need to tell you two how to work a TV?”
“No ma’am.” Travis says.
“Good, okay, I’ll be back to get Ms. Scatorccio’s IV sorted out. Please no more running, or pulling them out, you two were in rough shape before you woke up.”
“I feel fine.” Natalie says, it’s a lie, sort of, but she does feel like she might be in a bit better shape than Travis who now that he’s laying back down is noticeably pale.
“You were less dehydrated than Mr. Martinez, but any level of dehydration is serious, especially when paired with malnutrition. You both need to give your bodies time to rest and heal.”
“Got it, thank you.” Natalie says quietly, turning Diana’s words over in her mind.
Diana smiles at them both, then leaves, shutting the door softly behind her.
“You shouldn’t have given me the last of your water.” She says, unable to look at Travis, staring down at her socked feet instead, they have little rubber bits at the bottom for stability, and are an ugly shade of orange like traffic cones.
“Nat…” He starts, but she cuts him off.
“No, Travis, I would’ve been fine, and now you’re here needing an IV, and I—” She balls her fist, forcing herself to breathe.
“They’re putting you back on an IV, too.” He reminds her, his hand warm in hers, their fingers still fitting together perfectly.
“Yeah, but you heard her, you need it more.”
“Nat, I’m always going to give you the last of my water, food, shelter, whatever. I need you more than any of that.”
She finally looks at him, tears blurring her vision, she’s already so sick of crying. “Idiot, I need you more than any of that. If you give me the last of everything you have, and then you die, what am I supposed to do?”
He squeezes her hand and shrugs. “You’ll just have to not let me die.”
“I’d punch you if you weren’t in a hospital bed right now.”
He cracks a smile and tugs her closer, wiping away her tears with his calloused thumbs. “Assault is a crime, you know?”
She gives a watery laugh. “We’ve committed so many crimes already, I doubt it’ll matter.”
“I promise I’ll come visit you in jail.”
She snorts. “Yeah? Will you dress up for me so I can brag to the all the other inmates about the hot boyfriend I’ve got waiting for me on the outside?”
He’s quiet for a second, and she bites the inside of her cheek, apology at the ready when he chuckles. She hadn’t heard him laugh in so long, winter was horrible, they lost so many friends to the elements, or the hunts, and she thought she’d never hear him laugh again.
“Want me in a suit or…?”
She makes a show of thinking, tapping her pointer finger against her lips. “You know that shirt you wore to the lake, when we took that team bonding trip or whatever, that your dad thought would be a good idea? The red Hawaiian one with the buttons that you kept unbuttoned except for the last two?”
“Weird that you remembered that, almost like you had a crush on me or something.” He teases, arching one brow.
She shoots him a glare, but there’s no real fire behind it.
“Yes, I remember. I also remember you had to borrow a bathing suit from Jackie. It was pink with polka dots, and my dad smacked me upside the head for looking too long at one of his star players.”
Her face warms and she’s glad she’s not hooked up to the monitors because they’d be a dead giveaway for her racing pulse. “Okay perv.”
“Perv?” He chokes on air, laughing so hard that it makes her smile.
“Yes, you’re a perv, but it’s fine. You should wear that shirt, and some cuffed jeans when you visit me in prison.” She says breezily, trying not to think about the fact that while she had been feeling completely and utterly ridiculous in Jackie’s spare swimsuit, Travis was staring so long his dad caught on. It makes her heart do a dumb little flip in her chest, and she hopes the harsh lighting is washing her out so he can’t see her blushing.
“You’re picking out a hot outfit for me to wear when I visit you in prison, and I’m the perv?”
“I’m actually going to punch you.” She huffs, trying to wipe the smile from her face.
“You want to see me in that shirt again so bad, Nat.” He drags out the so, elongating the vowel with a smirk on his stupidly handsome face.
“I’m going back to my room.” She says, making like she’s going to slide from the bed.
Travis’s hand shoots out to stop her. “Hey, I’ll wear it, even if you’re not in prison.”
She turns back to him, scooting closer, holding her hand out. “Shake on it?”
He makes a show of sighing, then takes her hand. “You’ve got a deal, Scatorccio.”
“Do you know where the others are?” She asks, glancing from Travis to the windows looking out into the hall, it’s been a while since they’ve seen anyone walk by, and she’s starting to get nervous.
“No, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve got Lottie sedated.” He snorts, fumbling with the remote for a second before the TV flickers to life, some soap opera her mom likes to watch appearing on the screen.
She pulls her knees up to her chest and Travis squeezes her hand reassuringly. “Hey, don’t worry about her, this place is nicer than the hospital I was at when I was a kid. They’ll take good care of her, of all of us.”
“I want to go home, Trav.” She whispers, resting her chin on her knees, tears pricking the backs of her eyes, fuck she cannot start crying again. It’s not entirely true, really she just wants Coach. Wants him to walk through the door and scold her for ripping out her IV before cracking a joke about how she should run that fast on the field. The same way he’d scold her for showing up hungover to practice and then hand her a Gatorade and aspirin making sure she drinks it all while sitting in the AC of his office.
“We’ll get out of here soon, they probably just need to run some tests, make sure none of us picked up some crazy virus.”
“Like ones you get from eating people?” She deadpans, though it’s a slight fear she has now that she’s spoken the thought aloud.
“They don’t know about that, unless someone cracked already and told them.”
She looks at her hands then his in an attempt at humor she doesn’t quite feel. “Well, there’s no handcuffs, so I think we’re in the clear for now.”
He smiles; it’s a small smile, but it makes her feel a little better. “I—”
He’s cut off by Diana opening the door, another IV with her, she works quickly, efficiently, and Natalie focuses on the TV as she does it.
“All done. Now, before I leave, your friends are awake and doing okay. We have to monitor all of you for a little while longer, but once the doctors are satisfied, then you two can see the others and vice versa.” Diana explains.
They thank her, and she leaves, the world shrinking back down to the two of them again.
“We’re going to be fine, Nat. We made it out, you got us out.” Travis says, pulling his blanket over her hand so she can’t see the IV.
She nods, the scar on his throat is so noticeable under the harsh fluorescents, and it makes her sick to her stomach. How is he going to explain that? How are they going to explain anything?
The past is the past, let it stay there. That’s what they’d all agreed, but is it even possible?
“You think Shauna is going to keep Jackie’s necklace and wear it when she inevitably marries that Jeff guy?” He asks, leaning back in the bed, forcing humor into his tone to soothe her. They did always enjoy shit talking together.
She goes with him, curling into his side, the chill of the AC cutting through her hospital gown. Travis is warm, even out there he was warm, or maybe she just runs cold. “Maybe she’ll say it’s her something borrowed.”
He huffs a laugh. “Don’t you have to be able to give something back for it to be borrowed?”
“It’s her something old then. From Jeff’s old girlfriend.”
“Now that makes more sense.” He says, playing with her fingers, tracing the scars and nicks on the back of her hand. “You ever think about marriage?”
A sudden panic seizes her, her parents got married young, she doesn’t want to be like them, she can’t. Not that she thinks Travis would propose but still, still she can’t, she won’t. “Like in general?”
His hand stills. “Yeah, I mean, it’s kinda crazy to get married right out of high school, isn’t it?”
She pushes the panic down, trying to expel it with each exhale. Come on Natalie, this is Travis you’re talking about, he’s not some flighty romantic, he’s not crazy.
“Unless you don’t think it’s crazy?” He adds hesitantly.
“No, no, I do, I do think it’s crazy, but it’s Shauna what can you expect?” She says hurriedly, forcing a laugh.
“Maybe it’ll be good for her? My mom always says my Uncle Marco was wild until he married my Aunt Lisa, now he’s super chill and follows her around like a puppy dog.”
“Cute.” She turns her attention to the TV, and he takes the hint, dropping the subject and resting his hand next to hers, their pinkies a hairsbreadth apart.
You can read this fic and more on my AO3 as well!!!
“You can feel how much he cares about her. And how much she understands that he’s there for her. He just wants to be there to protect her however he can in his mind. Natalie is the only person that he’ll break his conforming for.”
-Kevin Alves on Travis and Natalie in Season 3
After Javi’s death, Season 3 sees Travis retreating inward, distancing himself and conforming to the group’s shifting power dynamics to avoid drawing attention—or putting himself in danger. Even when he disagrees with the direction they’re heading, survival takes precedence. He’s in survival mode, he’s extremely determined to get home (which is apparent in his desperation to get rescued even if it means leaving the group behind initially). He can't let his mother lose both of her sons.
To protect himself, he softens, lingering on the outskirts, refusing to have a voice—not just because he’s still reeling from Javi’s death, but because he understands how dangerous the group has become. We see this conformity in his dynamic with Lottie, as he takes the mushrooms even if he doesn't fully believe in the Wilderness anymore. It’s even clearer during Coach Ben’s trial. Despite knowing Ben is innocent, Travis votes him guilty, recognizing the shift in power and the solidifying of Shauna’s reign. He knows that dissent isn’t an option—not if he wants to survive.
The only person Travis is willing to break his safe conformity for is Natalie. Last season, he defied the group by stopping Shauna from killing her after the card draw. This season, we see it again during the trial—when the group turns on Natalie, Travis immediately jumps up to defend her.
But the most powerful example is his role in Coach Ben’s mercy killing. Despite knowing the risk of going against the group, he understands that Natalie needs to do this, and he stands guard all night to ensure she can see it through. When the others discover what happened and condemn her as a murderer, he is one of the few voices speaking up in her defense. And if Shauna had followed through on her threat to kill Natalie for it, there’s no doubt—Travis would have stepped in, no matter the cost. He's already lost Javi and his father. He is willing to risk never making it back home if it means never having to lose Nat, too.
Even through their distance, there is a strong thread of loyalty and understanding that binds them. The weight of their shared trauma and unspoken resentment keeps them apart, yet Travis still expresses his love in the only way he knows how—through quiet acts of protection and unwavering presence. And this loyalty and protection for each other endures over the next 25 years of their lives, through their attempts at keeping each other sober, through their pact to not commit suicide no matter how much they both may have wanted to. Nat and Travis have always been bad for each other because their instinct to protect one another will always outweigh their own self-preservation. Their dynamic is a constant push and pull, a cycle of devotion and destruction, and I will always love the way they can’t help but come back to each other.
“I don’t think that he could ever see her die. Natalie is the only person that he stops sitting back for. He sits back for the whole time, for everything that happens. But, if Natalie is involved, I think you will see him do whatever he’s got to do.”
Sex has never been a pleasant experience for you. Selfish partners, anxiety, and pain have all ruined something that you should enjoy. You’re convinced there’s something wrong with you, but Eddie is determined to prove otherwise. 6k.
18+ minors dni: soft smut, oral (f receiving), mention of oral (m receiving), fingering, protected piv, praise kink (because of course there is), reader has anxiety around sex and there’s mentions of pain during intercourse. Pet names used in place of Y/N.
A/N: I know I should be working on the dozen other wips I have gathering dust, but this self-indulgent idea popped into my head and I couldn’t shake it out. So enjoy this very soft and tender smut 🖤
You’d known for a while that this day was coming. As much as you’d hoped there’d be someway to avoid it, it was inevitable that you and Eddie would find yourselves here.
It’s frosty outside. You can see the tiny sparkles of it decorating the edges of the window in Eddie’s room. The last cold snap of those long dark months, winter clinging on by its fingertips, refusing to give over to the warmth and softness of spring.
But it’s hot in the trailer. The air is humid and heavy, heat clinging to your skin, despite the layers that have been stripped away.
Eddie burns over you. Like when the sun disappeared from the sky he’d swallowed it whole, the star glowing white hot in his chest.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He whispers against your neck.
Your own chest feels tight, his words spoken with such soft adoration you could weep. He raises his head enough to flash you that boyish grin that you love, his lips stretched wide with it. Your fingertips trace over the dimple in his cheek.
Eddie’s hands can’t keep still. He grabs at you greedily, but still gentle, rough palms gliding over smooth skin. Cups the weight of your breasts, kneading over the cotton of your bra. He’d pulled your jumper up over your head as soon as the bedroom door was closed, giggling at the static crackling in your hair. His shirt was next to go, followed by your jeans, left in a crumpled heap on the carpet.
His pillows are soft beneath your head, your body pressed into the mattress by his weight laying over you. Thighs parted so he could slot himself between. There’s a heat blooming between your legs, made worse when the hard length that strains beneath his boxers catches there with each slow roll of his hips. As the pleasure grows, so too does your anxiety.
“There’s something wrong with you.”
The snarling voice is so clear, you find yourself turning your head, glancing around Eddie’s room. Of course there’s no one here but the two of you.
But you can still hear him. See the curl of his lips when he’d spat those words with such disdain.
Your last partner had initially thought he’d won the jackpot.
A girl who was more than happy to get on her knees for him, put his pleasure above all else, expecting nothing in return. But of course he’d wanted more from you. More than you could give him.
You’d grit your teeth and tried to relax, tried so desperately to let it happen. After a few tension filled minutes of awkward shuffling and frustrated grunts, he’d rolled off of you, snatching up his clothes from your bedroom floor.
You’d cried. Apologised. Pleaded with him to stay.
“There’s something wrong with you.” He’d said, as he slammed the door closed behind him.
“Hey.”
You blink. Pull your gaze away from the bedroom door, back to Eddie’s face. He hovers over you, eyes round with concern, brows pinched in the middle.
“Are you okay?” He murmurs.
“Yeah. M’fine.” You lie.
“You sure?” Eddie smoothes his hand across your brow, sweeping down to cup your cheek.
“Do you want to stop?”
Yes.
“No. Of course not.” You reply.
You pull him in by his shoulders, pressing his lips to yours. It’s a poor attempt at a distraction. You just can’t bear to have Eddie looking at you like that. Like he can see beneath the mask you’ve been so careful to keep in place.
You kiss him deeper, slipping your tongue into his mouth. Eddie makes a surprised sound when your hand snakes down between your bodies, reaching for the tent in his underwear.
“H-hang on. Just stop for a second, okay?” Eddie says. He pushes your hand away.
“What did I do?” You whisper.
“Nothing. It’s just.. sweetheart, you’re shaking. And you look like you’re gonna burst into tears.”
Shame twists your guts. You can feel the heat prickling your eyes, Eddie’s features blurring.
“I’m fine.” You say unconvincingly.
“Look, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” Eddie says. He sits up on his knees, putting distance between you.
“I want to.” You say quickly.
“Doesn’t really seem like it. You keep looking at the door like you wanna fucking bolt.” Eddie says sourly.
He knows he shouldn’t snap at you. But it’s so hard when all of his insecurities and fears are rearing their heads once again. He’d convinced himself things might be different this time.
You weren’t using him, not after cheap weed or satiating some curiosity about whether the rumours about the freak were true. You were sweet, patient, seemed so genuinely interested in all the things that made Eddie Eddie.
But now you looked like you’d rather be anywhere but here with him.
Your quiet sob makes his chest ache. You clamp your hand over your mouth to stifle the sounds, tears steadily leaking down your cheeks and wetting his pillows.
“Hey. I’m sorry, please don’t cry.” Eddie says, that usual warmth returning to his voice. He takes your wrists and gently pulls you up, holding you to his chest as you cry.
“What’s wrong sweetheart? You know you can talk to me, right?” He says.
“I’m s-sorry. I’m ruining everything.” You sob.
“Shhhh. Stop it. You haven’t ruined anything.” Eddie cups your cheeks and tilts your head back, forcing you to look at him.
“Can you just talk to me? Tell me what’s going on in your head?” He pleads.
“I’m scared.” You admit quietly.
“What are you scared of?”
“Of.. of not being good, at all this.” You say, weakly waving your hand between your bodies.
“Of not being good enough at this for you.”
“Sweetheart, I really don’t think you need to worry about that.” Eddie says with a soft smile.
“I want you, I want to do this with you. If you’re not… experienced, that doesn’t matter. We’ll just figure things out as we go.”
You shake your head. He wasn’t getting it.
“N-no. It’s more than that. I - I can’t. I’ve never-.” Your breathing was now coming in quick pants, panic coursing through your veins. Your body trembles more violently.
“It’s alright, just breath.” Eddie says calmly.
“It hurts Eddie.”
“What hurts?”
“Sex. Every time I’ve had sex before it hurts. It’s like my body just won’t let me relax, I get so in my head and I go all tense.”
Eddie’s brows dart up in surprise, but now the words have started to flow out you’re powerless to stop them.
“The first time I thought it was normal. But then it just kept happening, every time. And some guys like it, y’know, they say it’s good that I’m tight, but it never feels good for me. And last time.. the last time I tried to do this with someone, I was so wound up, I just couldn’t. He couldn’t get it in. And I was trying to relax, and he was pushing and pushing and it’s like my body just wouldn’t let it happen. And so he left. He said there’s something wrong with me. And he’s right - I’m broken!”
Eddie’s been staring at you in horror. Jaw hanging slack, dark eyes owlish and glistening. When you stop speaking, losing yourself in more sobs, his jaw clenches tight, a deep frown on his face.
“Look at me. Sweetheart, look at me.” He orders firmly.
You sniffle, but comply, just managing to bear the heat of his stare.
“There is nothing wrong with you, you’re not broken. Fuck, I - I could kill that asshole for talking to you like that. I could kill everyone of those fuckers for not treating you right.”
“It’s not their fault.” You say weakly.
“Yes it is. Don’t defend them. It’s shouldn’t hurt sweetheart, it should feel good. God, you deserve to feel good.” He says softly. He kisses the corner of your mouth, thumbs brushing over your cheeks.
Resting his forehead against yours, Eddie looks you in the eyes.
“We don’t have to do anything, okay? I’m happy to just lay here and hold you, if you’ll let me.”
You don’t know what you did right in your life to deserve Eddie Munson. This kind, gentle boy, who looks at you like you hung every star in the sky that glitters above the trailer.
“I want to.. y’know.” You whisper.
“Okay. Well we can, but let’s talk about it first yeah?”
You nod. Eddie moves to lay at your side, arms wrapped around your waist to pull you close.
“Has it ever been good?” He asks.
“No.” You admit.
“So no one’s ever made you cum?”
“No, they haven’t.”
Eddie clears his throat.
“Have you uh.. have you ever?”
Your cheeks burn with heat.
“I have.” You mumble against his chest, too embarrassed to look at him.
“But only on my own.”
“Okay, well that’s good. Definitely not broken.” Eddie smiles.
“When you’ve slept with people before, did you tell them what you like?”
“I didn’t.”
“Why not?”
“They never asked.” You shrug.
Eddie sighs, his frown returning.
“Well that’s the problem. No two people are the same, right? You can’t just do the same thing with anyone and expect the same results. You have to take your time, figure out the person that you’re with.”
The heat between your legs is back. Your core throbs as Eddie murmurs to you, his hands stroking soothingly over your hips.
“Will you - can you do that?” You ask hesitantly.
“Of course I can sweetheart. If you want me to.” Eddie says softly.
“I do.”
Eddie nods, laying you down and resuming his previous position over you.
“We’ll go slow okay? I want you to tell me what you like, and what you don’t. Can you do that for me?”
“Yes.” You reply. It’s always so easy to say yes to him.
“Good girl.” Eddie smiles.
Your breath catches in your throat, another wave of arousal making your underwear damp.
“I - I like that.” You whisper, like it’s a secret.
“Yeah? You like when I call you my good girl?” Eddie says, his lips trailing a burning path down your neck.
“Yeah.” You sigh.
“Noted.” Eddie grins.
You giggle, peering down as he moves to your chest, mouthing over the flesh spilling from the cups of your bra.
“Can I take this off?” He asks.
Your spine curls in permission, arched so he can reach a hand underneath you. Eddie makes quick work of unsnapping the hooks. You expect him to tear the garment away in a hurry like he did with your sweater.
Instead he hooks his fingers under the straps, kissing along your shoulders and arms as he slides them down. When it’s finally peeled away, Eddie groans, pupils blown as he takes in your bare chest.
“Perfect.” He says, so quietly it’s like he’s saying the words to himself.
“Can I kiss you here?” He murmurs, one finger tracing the swell of your breast.
“Please.”
He’s so gentle. Far slower than you anticipated. He takes his time, pressing kisses to your heated skin, his nose nuzzling in the valley between your breasts. When he moves up to swirl his tongue teasingly around the hardened bud of your nipple you whine, a high pitched keening sound from the back of your throat.
It could be minutes or hours, you’re not really sure. Time slows, losing all meaning as Eddie moves across your chest. His teeth graze one bud, nipping lightly.
“I like that.” You gasp, remembering his instructions to voice what pleases you.
He responds by doing it again, just a little harder.
Eddie shuffles lower on the bed, kissing the indents on your ribs left by your bra. He mouths over your stomach, tongue leaving a glistening trail. You’re shaking again, not from nerves this time, but from the anticipation. Each inch lower brings his mouth closer to where you want him.
“Eddie.” You whine. He looks up, his chin resting on your hip.
“Yeah baby?”
Your eyelids flutter at the new name, falling so easily from his lips, now red and swollen from his kisses.
“Please.” You beg.
“Please what? What do you need sweetheart?” He says, a teasing lilt to his voice.
You squirm, body flushing hot, feeling too shy to voice your desire. But he knows without you saying a word.
“D’you want me to kiss you here?” He says, tracing a finger along the seam of your panties.
“Y-yes.” You squeak. Your hips buck, chasing his touch.
“Thank god. I’ve been wanting to get my mouth on you since the moment we met.” He admits.
You raise your hips from the bed, an invitation for you to pull off your underwear. But despite being so keen himself, Eddie presses you back into the mattress.
He sinks to his knees at the end of the bed.
“Shuffle down a bit for me honey.” He instructs, his voice low and raspy with lust. He waits patiently as you move, but unsatisfied with your position takes hold of your ankles and pulls, until your ass is right at the edge, legs draped over his shoulders.
It starts at your ankles. Chaste kisses pressed to each one. Then your calves, one being loved on with his mouth, the other massaged with his large hands. It has the desired effect, relaxing you until you’re almost boneless. No longer worried about the weight of your legs on his shoulders, you let your muscles go limp, melting into the mattress.
At your thighs his kisses become hungrier, but he never increases his pace. Kissing up up up, nuzzling the round tip of his nose into the crease where your panties rest on your skin. When you feel the heat of his breath over the cotton that covers you, you whine his name once again.
“You’re so pretty.” He says, his lips brushing the fabric as he speaks.
“Doin’ so good for me.”
The kiss he leaves on your clit is dulled by the barrier of your underwear, but it’s still enough to have the heat in your belly increasing. The gentle warmth now the crackling beginnings of a fire.
“Can I take these off?” He says, still kissing the fabric, growing damper by the second from your arousal and his mouth.
“Please Eddie.” You whimper.
You hardly recognise your own voice, you’ve never sounded like this. So fucked out, so desperate, and he’s barely even touched you yet.
He leans back as he pulls on your panties, peeling them away from your slick skin and rolling them down your legs. When you’re bared to him, he lifts your legs back into their previous position.
“Remember, tell me what you like. And if you want to stop, we can.” Eddie says.
“Okay.” You whisper.
The first kiss to your bare skin has your toes curling.
It’s almost chaste, just a delicate peck to your bud. Eddie’s mouth falls open, his breath hot as it wafts over you. His tongue inches out, an experimental lick swiped up the seam of you. He flattens the muscle, dragging it slow, chocolate eyes trained on your face for a reaction. Your head falls back to the sheets, a shuddering moan tearing from your chest. You can feel the victorious smile he wear as he continues to lick at you.
He’s so slow with it. Not hesitant or unsure. No, it’s like he just wants to take his time, savour every drop of you that spills. He alternates between dancing his tongue through your folds, and sucking your clit into his mouth, pillowy soft lips sealed over you.
You want to tell him you like it, you want him to do it more, to never stop. But you’ve lost the ability to speak.
Not that it matters. Eddie seems to read your body better than anyone before, perhaps because he’s the first to try. His gaze never leave your face, intense eye contact as he waits for the hitches in your breath and the shaking of your thighs to guide him.
He’s groaning against your flesh, like it feels just as heavenly for him as it does for you. He grips your hips, blunt fingernails digging in as he pulls you down, smothering his face with your cunt.
Those flickering flames are now a raging inferno. It feels different than anything you’ve managed to achieve on your own. Your body is burning, lava coursing through your veins, white hot heat polling low in your belly.
“E-Eddie! I’m - I’m gonna-“ you gasp. You fist the bedsheets so hard it’s a wonder you don’t tear clean through them.
He doesn’t speed up, doesn’t change anything about his movements. He continues to suck on your clit with that same firm pressure, his hold on your hips turning bruising. When you dare a glance down you find his eyes still trained on you, fire burning behind them, flecks of gold in the brown that hasn’t yet been swallowed by his pupils.
It’s enough to push you over the edge. You give in, letting the flames engulf you, sure that when it’s over you’ll be nothing but a smoking pile of ash on the bed. Your thighs clench, squeezing around Eddie’s head, but he still doesn’t stop. Languidly licking at you until you’re whining from the overstimulation, no longer rocking your hips against his face but trying to twist away from him.
He smiles up at you, slick shining on his chin and cheeks. Lips ruby red and swollen.
“How was that baby?” He asks, soothing his hands over your twitching thighs.
You’re panting, still not sure you can speak. You nod weakly, and Eddie laughs. He clambers back onto the bed, pulling your pliant body with him, until the two of you are once again settled on his pillows.
His kisses are soft and sweet, tasting of you. Eddie cradles your face in his palms, thumbs stroking over your cheekbones, while you tangle your legs with his, determined to be closer.
“You’re - you’re so good at that.” You say breathlessly.
Eddie chuckles, smiling almost bashfully, like he hadn’t just given you the best orgasm of your life.
The firm length of him is trapped between your bodies, pressed to your hip.
“I can do the same for you now, if you want.” You offer.
“That’s a very tempting offer sweetheart.” Eddie says softly.
“But I’m not done with you yet.”
You frown.
“But I already came.” You reply.
“I know. But I’ve got some making up to do. So I think you deserve another, don’t you?”
Eddie kisses your temple, the hand on your hip skimming down to cup between your legs. You’re still sensitive, jolting when his thumb brushes over your clit. But you can feel it, beneath the sensitivity, that heat still lingers.
“You deserve to feel good, don’t you baby?” He whispers into the juncture of your neck, pressing kisses there as the rough pads of his fingers swirl over you.
“Y-yeah.” You say shakily.
“Say it.” He gently commands.
You swallow the lump in your throat, his ministrations so distracting you struggle to arrange your thoughts into a coherent sentence.
“I deserve to feel good.” You whisper.
“Yeah you do. Good girl.” Eddie grins.
There’s something so unfamiliar about his touches.
They’re not hurried, not impatient, like every boy before him just looking to get you wet enough so they could take what they wanted. Eddie’s not touching you for his own benefit. He’s studying you, figuring you out just like he promised he would. Between sweet kisses he watches your face, smiling to himself when your breath shudders and your eyes roll back.
“When you touch yourself how many fingers do you put in?” He asks. The question could sound filthy coming from anyone else, but from Eddie it’s caring, like he doesn’t want to push you too far.
“Just one.” You whisper.
He nods. His fingers are still collecting your slick, bringing it up to rub frustratingly slow circles on your clit. Not enough to get you off, just keeping the embers burning.
“You want me to put one in?” He says, nuzzling his nose against your jaw.
At this point you’d usually freeze, the panic setting in. But you feel so safe, you find yourself nodding before you really register what you’re agreeing to.
“Okay. Just give me a sec.” He says.
Eddie pulls his hand away, chuckling when you whine in frustration. A kiss is pecked on the tip of your nose as his hand reaches blindly into the drawer of his nightstand. The items inside rattle for a moment while he searches, until he pulls out a small plastic bottle.
You cringe at the sight of the lube. Your ex lamented using it.
“You should be wet enough without it.”
“I’m sorry. That you have to use that.” You mumble, feeling your cheeks burn with shame.
Eddie shushes you softly.
“What are you apologising for sweet girl? I just don’t want to hurt you.” He says.
He squeezes a small amount onto his fingers, warming the gel between them. When his hand reaches back down between your legs his fingers glide smoothly, your arousal and the lube providing a satisfying wetness.
“I’ll go slow, okay?” Eddie says.
You’re so grateful for his patience, for the way he keeps checking in and reassuring you. You know you’re in safe hands.
As the tip of his finger nudges at your entrance, you feel your muscles clench involuntarily. Your teeth grit together painfully, preparing yourself for the inevitable pain.
But it doesn’t come. Eddie slides in slowly, and your walls accommodate him easily. As he reaches the second knuckle you exhale the breath you were holding.
“Keep talking to me baby. Let me know you’re okay.” He instructs.
“I’m good.” You reply.
He’s all the way in now. Eddie curls his finger, exploring inside you, his thumb keeping that torturously slow pace on your clit. You feel him brush a spot within you, somewhere you’ve never felt another’s touch before. A gasp escapes you, your hands gripping his shoulders.
“There.” You exclaim.
“Yeah?” Eddie grins.
“That’s the spot?”
“Uh huh.” You sigh.
He presses more firmly against it and you keen, hips bucking into his hand again.
The steady motion of his hand, his finger rubbing insistently over that sweet spot, and his gentle touches on your bud. It all feels so good, unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before.
“M-more.” You beg.
“You want another?”
“Please.”
Eddie’s ring finger presses in alongside his middle. It’s more of a stretch now, that familiar sting as you try to let him in. But it’s over in a second, the pain replaced with a pleasant fullness.
“That’s it. Just breath. You’re doing so good.” Eddie murmurs.
Your thighs are shaking again. You can feel the coil in your belly winding tight, each slow thrust of his fingers moving you closer and closer to the precipice.
“I can feel you squeezing me baby.” He says in awe.
“You gonna cum for me again?”
A friend once told you the French call orgasms ‘la petite mort’ - little death. You never really understood it, until now.
Those flames swallow you whole once more, and you’re so absorbed in the pleasure you could be dying in Eddie’s arms, lost to everything but him. And when he kisses you, he breathes life back into your lungs.
As the ringing in your ears subsides you can hear him, whispering praises into your hair as you come down. It’s like a prayer, those saccharine words recited with such adoration.
Eddie’s hand retreats, and you feel the loss instantly, that delicious fullness now missing.
Your chest heaves, lungs screaming as you gulp down mouthfuls of humid air, every nerve in your body quivering like a like wire.
“Oh my god.” You whimper. Your heavy lids peek open, finding the boy looking over you.
“Wasn’t too much was it?” He asks hesitantly. His bottom lip is caught between his teeth, still wet fingers tapping a sticky drumbeat on your thigh.
“No, it wasn’t too much.” You say quietly.
‘It wasn’t enough’ your heart screams.
‘Give me more. Give me everything.’
Reassured by your words Eddie breaks out into a smile, his rounded cheeks glowing a rosy pink. You love when he smiles like that. The crinkles at the edges of his eyes deepening, that dimple making a reappearance.
“You’re so pretty.” You confess, leaning up to press your lips to the divot in his cheek.
Eddie falters. His cheeks flush deeper, brows shooting up under his bangs. He grabs a fistful of his hair, tugging it across his face in a poor attempt to conceal his grin.
“What?” You giggle, poking at his sides.
“No ones ever called me pretty before.” He says. He’s still smiling, attempting to be humorous, but there’s a tremor in his voice. Like he can’t quite believe your words.
“Well they should, because you are.”
“Thank you baby.” Eddie says, burying his face in your shoulder.
“Say it.” You whisper, repeating his own words back to him. There’s a hint of teasing, but beneath it you’re deadly serious. You want him to know just how special he is.
“I - I’m pretty.” He mumbles against your skin.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that?” You tease.
Eddie huffs, grinning and blushing as he raises his head.
“I’m pretty.” He repeats.
“Good boy.” You smirk.
Eddie groans, dragging his palm down his face.
“God. You’re gonna kill me.” He says.
“Not before you sleep with me I hope.”
It’s bolder than you’ve ever dared be in a situation like this. But despite the vulnerability, being completely bared to someone physically and emotionally, you know you have nothing to fear from Eddie.
“Oh. I - sweetheart, I don’t think we should...”
Eddie realises his mistake as soon as he opens his mouth. You recoil, pulling away from him like his rejection was delivered as a stinging slap to your cheek. He watches as your eyes turn glassy and your bottom lip trembles.
“No! Baby no, I didn’t mean.. it’s not that I don’t want to!” He says.
“It’s fine.” You reply quickly, the wobble in your voice suggesting it’s anything but.
Desperately Eddie grabs your arms and pulls you close before you can climb out of his bed.
“Sweetheart. Please listen to me. I want to sleep with you, of course I do. Christ, I’m hard as a fuckin’ rock here.” He says.
“It’s just, we’ve already done so much. And this was about you, not me. I don’t want you to think all of this just so I could get something out of it. I just wanted to make you feel good.”
“I want to make you feel good too.” You sniffle. You blink back the tears, refusing to let them fall.
“Please Eddie. I want you.”
Eddie’s head is telling him this is a bad idea. He should insist that you clean off and get some sleep, this can all wait for another day when your thoughts aren’t clouded by a post orgasm haze. But his heart, and perhaps another body part, are saying something different. You’re here in his bed, practically begging for him. Who was Eddie to resist such a sweet temptation?
“Okay. I’ve got you honey.”
When he kisses you, your lips part eagerly, letting his tongue snake its way in. It’s a slow waltz of two muscles, wet and warm, with so much tenderness.
When your hand reaches to touch him, Eddie doesn’t push you away this time. He moans into your mouth as his boxers are pushed down, louder still when your hand wraps around him.
You feel more confident with this part. You know that you’re good at this, have touched enough boys as a distraction from them touching you to know exactly what to do to get them to fall apart.
Your fist squeezes around Eddie’s cock, hot and heavy in your hand. The movements start slow, an echo of the way he touched you. Up and down his length, feeling it twitch in your palm. Your thumb swipes over the flushed head, smearing the beads of pre that are steadily leaking from the slit.
Eddie groans, hips bucking, thrusting himself into you fist. You pepper kisses along his jaw, down to his neck where you can suck a small bruise onto pale skin.
No one before him has been so vocal. Every soft sigh, every grunt, every strained word of praise that he utters goes straight to your core.
“F-fuck. Baby, you gotta s-stop.” Eddie stammers.
You cease your movements immediately.
“What’s wrong?” You ask.
“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. But if you keep that up this is all gonna be over too fast.” He admits sheepishly.
You flop back onto the pillows with a satisfied grin, watching as Eddie sits up on his knees.
He reaches over you back into the drawer. Retrieving a condom, he hastily tears the foil wrapper with his teeth, rolling it down over himself. He’s settled between your legs now, squeezing more lube into his hand and giving himself a few light teasing strokes. You watch in awe at the way he touches himself, making a mental note of his speed and pressure, paying attention to what he likes.
That familiar anxiety is beginning to churn in your guts. Even in his own large fist, Eddie’s cock looks huge. A longer than average length, but it’s the thickness that has moths stirring in your stomach. There was no way this wasn’t going to hurt.
He shuffles to a better position, the head of his cock lightly pressing on your clit. As he swipes down through your sticky folds, you feel your muscles clench involuntarily.
“Hey.” Eddie says softly, pulling you from your spiralling thoughts.
“Eyes on me baby. Just breathe, and keep looking at me.” He instructs.
You nod, throat too tight for words.
You focus on those chocolate puddles of eyes, the way they never leave your face, even as his head catches at your entrance. There’s so much warmth behind them, a tenderness and care you’re not used to feeling directed your way.
Eddie presses in slowly.
The burn is intense, despite all of his hard work to get you prepared. Your brows pinch, and in less than a second it’s gone. Eddie’s pulled out, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your thighs.
“D’you wanna stop?” He asks.
“No. Keep going, please.” You manage to whisper.
He tries again. As Eddie rolls his hips forwards you exhale a deep breath, like you’re trying to blow away all the tension in your body. His head pops inside, and you just keep breathing like he told you to. A few seconds later and he’s halfway in.
The sting is already subsiding. All you can feel is that same fullness, more intense than with his fingers, and more delicious. Hooking your ankles over his lower back, you pull him closer. Encouraging him to slide all the way in, one final push having him bottoming out.
“Oh shit.” Eddie whines. His teeth are gritted, heavy eyelids fluttering.
“You’re so warm.”
“Y-you’re so big.” You squeak in reply.
His cock twitches at your words.
“S’not too much?” He asks.
“No. S’perfect. You’re perfect Eddie.” You smile.
He flashes you a grin. His body falls over yours, forearms resting on the pillow either side of your head to keep himself propped up. The new angle forces him deeper than you even thought possible. Your body feels like it’s stretched to its limits, but it’s working, your walls wrapping around him snuggly like they’re welcoming him home.
Eddie nuzzles his nose against yours, warm breath fanning across your face when he sighs in pleasure.
“You can move now, if you want to.” You murmur.
With your permission granted, Eddie rolls his hips back. Pulling out halfway only to sink back into your heat. You can feel him everywhere: the smooth glide of his cock pressing into you, his hands in your hair, bellies damp with sweat stuck together, his lips ghosting over yours. Each slow thrust has the wiry curls at his base stroking over your clit, swollen with all the attention it’s received.
Burying your face into the crook of his neck, you dot kisses across his skin like silent thank yous.
“You okay?” Eddie says breathlessly.
“Yeah.” You sigh, meaning it completely. You’ve never felt so cared for.
No ones ever had you like this. You’re used to harsh unforgiving thrusts, quick fucks that left you sore and disappointed. Everything about Eddie is so different. His languid pace, the careful attention he pays you, the intimacy of him kissing your temple as you squeeze around him.
“God. Baby, you’re doing so good f’me. I love the way you feel, s’like heaven.” Eddie slurs, sounding more than a little pussy drunk.
That four letter word spins around and around in your mind like a carousel. It’s much too soon for it to be spoken in any other context. Your relationship was still so new. A tiny bud just beginning to awaken in the sunshine, unfurling its delicate petals to stretch in the golden glow.
Still, you realise then how easily you could fall in love with Eddie Munson. It already feels like his name is branded across your heart, the letters seared into muscle.
Your third and final orgasm of the night creeps up on you. Building as a tingle that runs up your spine, spreading into every limb until you feel it in the tips of your fingers and toes. It’s not a blazing heat like the others. More like sinking into a warm bath at the end of a long arduous day. Soothing heat. Comforting and safe.
Eddie whines your name. Turns his head and crashes his lips to yours just as his own high reaches its crescendo. His hips stutter, fingers curling into a fierce grip on the soft down of his pillows. He cries out, and you feel the blooming heat of him spilling into the condom, thrusts growing weaker as he rides it out. For a moment you find yourself hating the thin latex that covers him. Wishing you take all of his pleasure, watch it trickle back out when he’s done.
Eddie collapses onto you. His chest heaves, spent limbs turning to dead weight, not that you mind. You weakly raise one hand, combing through his curls, dampened at the roots from his efforts.
There’s a slight aching in your cunt. Your hips are screaming in protest from being spread open for so long. But there’s no pain in your chest. No hollow emptiness, and no sour taste on your tongue. You exhale a contented sigh, pushing Eddie’s bangs back so you can kiss his forehead.
He lifts his head, resting his chin on your sternum. His eyes are heavy. He looks blissful and sleepy.
“Hey.” You say softly.
“Hey.” Eddie replies.
“Was that okay?”
“Perfect.” He grins.
With a groan he pushes up, moving slow as he pulls out.
“Was it.. was it okay for you? I didn’t hurt you?” Eddie asks anxiously.
“It was amazing.” You reassure.
Eddie smiles. You roll onto your side, watching as he clambers off the edge of the bed and removes the condom, tying it and tossing it into the trash.
“Thank you.”
Eddie tuts.
“You don’t need to thank me silly girl.” He says affectionately. You shuffle back to make space for him to climb back in beside you.
“But you took such good care of me.”
“M’just treating you the way you deserve to be treated.” He says. His fingers wander lightly over your cheek, tracing tiny patterns across smooth skin.
“I should probably get us some water. And you can go to the bathroom.” Eddie comments.
“Don’t wanna.” You grumble, pushing your face against his chest.
“Just wanna cuddle.”
Eddie laughs.
“Alright cuddle bug. Five minutes, then you’ve got to pee, and I’ll make you a cup of camomile.”
“I didn’t have you down as a camomile tea kind of person too.”
You feel Eddie shrug.
“I’m not. I just remembered you saying you like it, so I picked some up.”
You were definitely right.
It would be so easy to fall in love with Eddie Munson.
Then all the choices would then lead to this very moment. One wrong turn and we wouldn't be sitting here together. Now, that says a lot.
THE X FILES | S07E017, ’All Things’
Chris Carter took two lonely humans whose families and career experiences taught them that they were all alone and made them soulmates. Mr Carter took two humans who were fiercely independent and made them each other’s oxygen; sun and moon. He made them each other’s balance. He made it so that no matter what Scully lost, she would always choose Mulder. He made it that no matter what Mulder could gain, he would always choose Scully. And they are my Roman Empire.
Another thing yellowjackets did for me on these last two episodes was my complete 180 on teen Travis. After seeing the pain and trauma he went through with his baby brother I will not accept any slander against him and I'm excited to see where his character goes from here (hopeful)
I will never have anything bad to say about him ever in my life. No wonder he killed himself. Fuck. And he's never not gonna hate himself. Because he told him to go after her. To save the girl he loved. And Javi, non-verbal Javi, knew his brother so much, knew his heart, they didn't even have to speak to communicate that. All it took is a look from Travis and a nod from Javi to decide that they have to save Nat. And now his love for Nat is tainted. Everytime he remembers he loves her, he remembers he sacrificed his brother for her. Of course they were toxic for each other, of course they were on again off again, they both carry the same guilt. Javi died for them to have this, how could they throw it away, how could they keep it
in the next batman movie selina is back in town to con bruce wayne which he knows but he missed her so much and obviously he can afford it so he just lets her
