It's been a while, but A First for Everything Chapter 29: When Done With Intent is up now on Ao3! Thancred, Urianger, and a whole lot of charged atmosphere.
Read it on Ao3 at the link above, or check out the first chapter on Tumblr here.
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With as often as Thancred had fantasized about this moment, you'd think he wouldn't have been nervous. Hell, with as experienced as he was for it, there was no reason he ought to have been. It wasn't like it was his first time, or even his fiftieth. He'd lost track of how many people he'd bedded, men and women alike — which wasn't an accomplishment so much as an eventuality of his work. But still, in all that time, he'd never been this nervous before. And this wasn't even sex! Maybe Urianger wasn’t the only one who was going to benefit from taking things slow.
Had he even been this nervous his first time? Thancred couldn't remember. He had a vague recollection of having been more excited than anxious, but it had been so long ago. He'd been a teenager then.
He wasn't a teenager now. Far from it. He was the experienced one here, and it was on him to guide Urianger. Preferably without letting him know just how often he'd dreamed of a moment just like this. Or how hard it had been to turn Urianger down not once but twice. Gods, he felt a fool for that. But Thancred would’ve felt more the fool for taking advantage of him. He definitely didn't want that — but his dick did, which made it rather more challenging to determine right from wrong.
But now, standing across from Urianger on the cool stone tiles, with the over-large bathtub in the background and the copper-tinted mirror throwing their reflections back at them, the issue of right and wrong was laid to rest. All that was left was here and now.
The bathroom had seemed like a safe choice. Less burdened with pressure and expectation. You were supposed to be naked in the bathroom. Hells, Thancred had seen Urianger naked in this bathroom — not that he'd looked. He definitely hadn't.
He was allowed to look this time.
Urianger fidgeted across from him. Golden chains twined around his fingers, clinking against the rings he wore. Even his stance radiated nervousness, feet poised like he was ready to take a step — or retreat one.
Still, his nerves didn't change the charged atmosphere that hung between them, full of intent and intensity and snapping sparks like static. Urianger looked so awkward standing there in the middle of it all, like he didn't quite know what to do with all that energy coursing between them.
And, well, he wouldn't, would he? That was Thancred’s purview.
It was easy enough to slake his own nerves. Urianger had already put himself out there many times (so many times) for his sake; it was only right that Thancred take the lead here and let his experience guide them both. That had always been the plan, hadn't it: to figure things out together.
It was a practiced move to shed his shirt. Easy, familiar, just a twist of the wrists and it was over his head, mussed hair shaken back into place. Urianger's eyes seemed to rake over him — but that had to be his imagination, because there was no way the level of heat that poured across his skin could really come from Urianger. From demure and polite Urianger, who'd sooner blush and look away than leer at anyone. Even if this had been his idea. Even if he had, maybe, thought about this before, too. Imagined it. Like Thancred had?
Probably not like Thancred had.
But when Thancred looked up, Urianger was watching him, and his eyes seemed molten. Nervous, yes, of course. Embarrassed even, that endearing flush raging hot and bright across his face. But there was heat in his gaze, too. A quiet simmer, bashful but not fleeting. It lingered in the depths of his eyes like his eyes lingered on Thancred, and suddenly Thancred was the one who felt out of his depth. The last time he'd been shirtless, he'd seen Urianger's eyes skitter away from him. He’d thought Urianger was just being polite, but maybe... Maybe he really had thought about Thancred before like Thancred had thought about him.
The possibility made Thancred’s pants tight. Urianger, alone, thinking about him as he took himself in hand...
Ah, no, maybe that wasn't the best train of thought immediately before stripping off his pants. He didn't want Urianger to think he was going back on his word about taking things slow. He sucked in a breath, trying to focus his mind on thoughts of Coerthan winters and unwashed socks. Go down, go down, go down.
Nope, that wasn't going anywhere. Thancred had slept with more people than he could count, and yet now, when he actually cared, his body seemed convinced to role play a teenager fresh out of puberty. Fantastic.
But if Urianger had noticed, he didn't dwell on it. His face still held that rosy flush, high spots of color on his cheeks to match the red of his ears, but he looked more sure of himself than Thancred had expected. Not confident, certainly not that, but not like he was rethinking his decisions either. Maybe he really wouldn't be bothered to know what Thancred had been picturing of him.
Thancred’s hands found the button of his pants. Habit took over, working them open and shimmying them down. The roll of hips that joined the motion wasn't meant for show so much as it was the product of a dozen years of habit. He was used to people watching him, wanting him — what he wasn't used to was Urianger. It was almost startling to realize that for once, Thancred had no idea what it was his partner wanted to see from him. Was Urianger looking to see the suave and confident lover Thancred often played? Was he looking for tenderness and blushing? Was he looking for anything at all?
Judging by the rapt look on Urianger's face and the tiny furrow of focus between his brows, he really wasn't looking for anything in particular from him. That was good. Because with the butterfly-tingle through his gut, Thancred wasn't sure he could deliver. Apparently this was different, too, when done with intent — a different sort of intent.
At least he was wearing underwear today. A barrier, thin as it was. A moment to catch their breath before revealing all. It was a weird feeling, needing that moment. Unfamiliar. It felt like a first.
But he'd done it a hundred times, and he did it again, just like he'd practiced. Thumbs hooked into the waistband, fabric dragged down his legs. A little more shimmy, a little showy, almost by accident. Shaped by experience and habit, he revealed himself.
And Urianger looked.
Thancred couldn't help the twitch of his prick beneath Urianger's scrutiny. He wasn't really supposed to help it, he guessed; the point was to show Urianger everything, and he was bound to see it all eventually, if he didn't change his mind. But somehow it still felt more exposed than usual, beneath the wide-eyed intrigue of Urianger's eyes. More vulnerable.
But Thancred held his arms carefully by his sides and let Urianger look. Squashed the urge to fidget, even as his fingers itched — not to cover himself, just to do something. Twiddle, or scratch, or clench around a blade. Hell, even knitting would be better than this, just standing there beneath Urianger's fastidious curiosity, cock out and half-hard with all the blood not currently concentrated in his face.
30 years of experience with reconnaissance and espionage, and it took only 2 minutes for him to break beneath Urianger's gaze. He shifted his weight. His fingers curled against his thighs. Scratched, awkwardly, just to have something to do. "I don't think I've ever had anyone look at me quite this closely before."
Like he'd broken him from a trance, Urianger started. He blinked, as though just realizing he'd forgotten how, and his eyes darted up to meet Thancred’s before falling away in embarrassed deference. "Mine apologies. Thou art fully exposed to me, and yet here I stand fully garbed, and staring rather rudely besides."
Thancred laughed, and the awkward uncertainty washed away with the sound. "You don't have to apologize for that. You’re supposed to look. That’s the point."
Chains chimed lightly as Urianger's fingers curled in them. The fabric across his front shifted with the motion of his hands, just a light sway that caught Thancred’s eye — and it was definitely the movement that caught it, and not the burning desire that throbbed insistently beneath his skin to see him, too. To know if that slight marring to the pleats of his skirt was just his imagination, or if there was something stiffer below his waist too. Something maybe eager, interested. To see all of him, revealed willingly. To be able to stare like he was, and appreciate him properly. So long Thancred had been denying himself that desire, no matter what little snippets his brain liked to conjure for him or how many times he'd spilled himself to that fantasy. He wanted to see that tattoo again. Wanted to see what lay above it, and finally give in to the drive to look that he'd been fighting off for so long.
"You don't have to strip if you don't want to."
Urianger jumped. Then his hands stilled, smoothing out the fresh wrinkles he was forming in his robe. "No. I wish to."
The relief that spilled through Thancred was potent, and he worked to hide it from his face. Because no matter all that he'd said and how many times he'd refused him, no matter how much he really did mean it, he couldn't deny that he really, really wanted to bed Urianger. And maybe (almost definitely), he'd been pushing him away so hard precisely because he wanted it so badly. As if refusing Urianger was the only way he could be sure he wouldn't push him the other way instead and press him into something he didn't want to do.
Because Twelve help him, Thancred wanted to lay Urianger down and spread him open, spread himself open. Either. Both. One after the other, maybe, coming inside of him and then riding him until Urianger came in him and Thancred spilled himself over Urianger’s divinely muscled stomach. Never before had he lusted quite so strongly for anyone, and his very bones ached with it. Lying next to Urianger night after night, the heat of his body seeping into his own where Urianger pressed into his back, had made for an exceedingly challenging few weeks, particularly where the fit of his pants was concerned. He'd meant what he'd said about going without for Urianger sake, or at least about trying, but he had to admit, it was... hard.
The proof of that throbbed between his legs when Urianger's hands finally moved, unclipping his chains from his robe. His eyes dropped to Thancred's member, attention snagged by the motion, and his blush flared brighter, crawling down his neck to disappear under his collar.
Then the collar fell away too, leaving that long, graceful length bared fully. Red spilled down it in sweeping strokes, bold and alluring in a way Thancred had never imagined necks could be until a few moons ago. Every slope, every curve seemed to invite his lips — not just to mark it up, but to kiss it gently, softly, to nibble at the skin and feel him shiver. To graze his lips over the bulge of his Adam's apple and feel it bob beneath them. To weigh the flutter of his pulse beneath a kiss, and bloom rose and violet along its arch. To watch him cover it back up, and know that the memory of his touch lingered on his skin, proud and prominent despite the glittering gold that masked it.
The shift of fabric stole Thancred’s attention away from his neck. His eyes lurched down, dragged by an invisible chain to where Urianger's hands curled in his robe. The hem lifted: slowly, haltingly. Like a tease that he didn't quite intend — or at least, Thancred assumed he didn't intend it. Maybe he did. Maybe Urianger wanted to entice him, a sultry unveiling that skimmed black along his body like the parting of a stage curtain to reveal a miracle beneath. The slender curve of an ankle. The strong swell of his calf.
Intentional or not, Thancred couldn't look away. It wasn't even bare skin he revealed, for the most part. He still wore his lower layer, that white skirt that kept wandering eyes from peeking through that damnable slit in his outer robe — two layers, probably, because Thancred had to assume he had smallclothes on beneath that. But even so: it was different when it was done with intent.
Thancred forced himself to blink. Casual, he ought to be casual. He hardly wanted to scare Urianger away with his intensity, no matter how badly he wished to reach out and hold him, to show him how strongly he affected him. His fingers itched with it, with the urge to unveil Urianger himself, to draw up that fabric and replace it with his touch, his lips on his shins, his thighs, his stomach. Beneath, too. Between. Thancred curled them, arms lifted to cross them over his chest and deny the urge.
But he couldn't help the reaction of his body. His cock throbbed, thick and purpled with desire and giving away all of his most lecherous thoughts. Urianger's eyes tracked the motion, watching the bob of it through open air. "Sorry," Thancred said. He shifted his weight, but there was no hiding the effect Urianger had on him. "I, uh..."
"Thou needs not apologize." He looked away, and his next words were quieter. Bashful. "'Tis natural. And flattering."
If he thought that was flattering, he had no idea what he was in for. Still, the reassurance eased the small knot of worry in Thancred’s gut. Heat stole its place, desire redoubled as Urianger tugged his outer layer over his head and set it aside. Neatly folded, granting Thancred a delicious view of his back as he turned to place it carefully on the countertop. Even relaxed, muscles rolled under his skin, and Thancred was almost grateful Urianger couldn't see the reaction that caused between his legs. Twelve help him, the thought of that back spread out beneath him as Thancred pressed into him, pale skin dusted red with exertion and beaded with sweat... It wasn't just him Thancred’s hands itched to touch now. He dug his fingers into his biceps, fighting to shrug off the need. And gods, Urianger wasn't even naked yet.
He would be soon, though. He turned back to Thancred, offering him a nervous smile as he reached to unwind his lower layer. Thancred returned it, hoping his expression was more reassuring and less "lusty lecher staring at a flushing maiden". Which, he supposed, was actually a fairly accurate description.
There was less fanfare to removing his underskirt. It unwound from his waist almost too easily, like all it would ever take to expose him was a simple tug in the right (wrong, the wrong!) spot. Thancred swallowed hard.
The underwear Urianger was indeed wearing underneath offered only the briefest of reprieves. He didn't even hesitate as long as Thancred had expected him to, like it was easier now and he'd fallen into the swing of it — or like it had to be done in one swift motion or not at all. The last scrap of fabric fell from him, and Urianger was revealed.
He was beautiful. Breathtaking. All the willpower in the world couldn't stop Thancred from staring. Thancred was hardly an artist, but if he was to carve a statue of the perfect man, he would be but an effigy to Urianger. The broad curve of his shoulders. The bulk of his chest, tapered into a well-defined waist. The wide expanse of his thighs — and that tattoo, that blasted tattoo etched into his skin, twisting lines of ink that caught Thancred’s attention and kept it there like a bull in a labyrinth. But above it...
He let himself look.
A wiry bed of soft gray sat at the apex of his thighs. It looked coarse, like the hair on his face, and Thancred could imagine what it would feel like against his lips. It wasn't quite as kempt as his facial hair: longer, less manicured. A little bit wild.
That wasn't what he was looking at.
Was it weird to think a dick was pretty? Thancred wasn't sure it was something he'd ever thought before, but he did now. Urianger was half-hard, rising from that scattered bed of hair, and Thancred fancied it was nerves rather than disinterest that kept him as soft as he was. Though honestly, he didn't really understand Urianger's lack of interest in sex. Maybe this really was all academic to him. Maybe Urianger didn't rise the way he did. But still. Half-hard was still hard. Because of Thancred.
It looked almost delicate. Like all the flush spilling over Urianger's skin had gathered there, pale flesh turned dusky rose. As Thancred watched, he stiffened further, purpled head easing out from the skin that collared it. Lengthening as he filled out, hardening, a graceful curve to match the peerless arch of his neck, skin smooth but for the thick vein that ran underneath. Long, but not too long — average for an elezen. But average for an elezen was still longer than Thancred’s own, more slender than thick but surely more than enough to satisfy.
Thancred wanted to touch. Urianger, himself, either would be fine. Lips or hands wrapped around heated flesh and stroking, pleasure stoked up primed nerves. Spilling down and out, pale skin turned paler and the floor made a mess.
He wouldn't. It wasn't the moment for that. Just looking. That’s what he’d told Urianger.
So he looked. He stared, openly and unabashedly, burning every ilm of Urianger’s body into his memory until he was sure he'd never forget it.
Urianger watched him in return, and Thancred had no doubt he was cataloguing him the same way. Etching his image into that ridiculous memory of his, every line and every curve immortalized. Would he think back on this too, like Thancred would? Would he remember this tonight, when he was pressed up against Thancred’s back with his body curled around his?
Thancred wanted him to. He wanted him to remember.
Haltingly, Urianger's voice rose. "Wouldst thou like to..."
"No," Thancred said firmly. As much for his own sake as for Urianger’s. "No. We said no touching today, just looking." Later. Later there would be touching. A familiar hand wrapped around heated flesh and this moment playing out differently behind closed eyelids.
And even later, hopefully: his hands on Urianger's heated flesh, fulfilling all the desires he denied himself now.
Pairing: Edward Nygma x Reader
Word Count: 2500
Warnings: There’s no better way to end a date than with murder!
Anonymous Requested: Could I get a oneshot of jealous and possessive Edward Nygma where a dude at her work keeps pushing reader to go out with him but she doesn't want to cause problems and is timid so she isn't always clear about her not liking the guy and when Ed comes to the rescue she's blushing and treats him like a hero making him blush as well and feel proud
You took a long slow breath, counting down the seconds before you went insane. Hell, you should go a little crazy. It would help get Detective ‘doesn’t take rejection well’ Leroy off you.
He had you backed into his desk, arms out that would take a push to get him to move. Something the other female employees didn’t recommend. “So seven sounds good sweetheart?”
Relaxing your jaw, you forced a smile, wishing dearly you had a knife instead of a smile, “I’m afraid I have a lot of work to do-”
“Lot of work?!” He scoffed, bringing in the collection of Jim, Harvey and Ed looking over a case at their own desk beside his. “You guys hearing this? The secretary's got lots of work to do!”
There was a pause as they looked you over in confusion. You shifted and hid your face, feeling your skin burn with embarrassment and desperation to run away. Other people didn’t need to see your weak display at handling the situation.
In a tone that could be mistaken for agitation, Ed corrected. “She’s the Criminal Analyst.”
Leroy looked about like he was waiting for a punchline. Harvey rolled his eyes and mocked, “You’d know that if you actually spent any time here.” You assumed Leroy didn’t hear him mutter “Idiot.” under his breath as him and Jim looked back at the desk.
Brushing off the awkward interaction, Leroy leaned back to you, making you cringe away. “So this weekend isn’t so good. You can give me your number-”
“I don’t have a working phone right now.” You lied, inching your way to the cracked opening of his dominating presence.
He caught the small plan and took a step closer to you, making you even more nervous feeling his breath down your face. “Come on now, I’ve seen you using a phone this morning-”
“It-it wasn’t my phone. I’m borrowing a phone until I get a new one!” You chuckled. He chuckled. Both laughs died and the air got uncomfortable and tense as his pale blue eyes bore into yours, not a hint of joy for the excuse.
“Well give me that number.”
Ed hadn’t stopped watching the scene, stiff and completely deaf to the chatter between Jim and Harvey. They hadn’t noticed until they asked him a question and Ed responded with a guttural, “That imbecile really thinks that tactic works?”
Both detectives looked up to him with brows raised high. Glancing back at the scene, Jim could see a little clearer than the other two you were starting to get scared, clinging to your clipboard for dear life. He took a step to intervene before getting a better idea. Elbowing Nygma he muttered, “Why don’t you go save the day over there?”
Ed snapped out of the jealous tunnel to suddenly be on a spot light. Looking to Leroy, in all honesty Leroy reminded him a lot of school bullies he had. Fit, handsome, but an idiot who used fear when charm didn’t get him what he wanted. He couldn’t stand Leroy talking to you, but he couldn’t imagine standing up to Leroy without some sort of weapon either. “I-I don’t know-”
“Don’t worry,” Jim clicked his tongue with a wink, “We got your back.”
Something about Jim made him easy to have faith in. After a few apprehensive moments, running ideas on what to say and do in his head, Ed straightened his coat and fixed his glasses. Confident he had three against one. He didn’t hear Harvey chiding Jim how Nygma was 'going to be snapped like a twig'.
Tapping Leroy on the shoulder, that first moment was the hardest. The man who could run marathons and not break a sweat turned and stuck out his jaw in a challenge. But it was the patient look on your face, the wide expectancy instead of foreboding pity that tugged a different string in him. Coming face to face with Leroy again, a smirk slipped on him. “Not having any trouble are you?”
Leroy sized Ed up before breaking in a pompous grin, “None at all. Now if you’ll excuse me-”
“My apologies, I’m just worried a dimwit like you might have forgotten certain harassment code violations.”
It was bad enough Ed interrupted, but to add insult in the same sentence. Needless to say the surrounding area tipped an ear to the scene. Jim himself was inching closer with a tight lip while Harvey relaxed onto the desk with a snicker. Leroy snapped his jacket, turning and facing Ed fully. “Alright Egghead. What’s your problem? This your girl or something?”
“No.” Ed shrugged. “But I do believe this isn’t the first time she’s found reasons to refuse you multiple times. So either you’re pathetic, desperate, or an idiot. Or all three in my opinion!”
That caught the rest of the precincts eyes. Yet Ed didn’t falter under the impressed stares, he was invigorated by them. Leroy’s bristle did nothing to intimidate like it would have. “Oh-hoo-hoo, you’re looking to get your ass beat aren’t you-”
Edward threw his hands up in mock submission. “Look, look… I’d give some big analysis about all your psychological faults brought on by classic trauma’s and even more classic societal commentaries, but something tells me that would be too many words. So instead I’ll say this,” Ed pulled in next to Leroy’s ear, the detective looking disgusted by the proximity until Ed started to whisper. The room was quiet and they listened closely to no avail, not even you. Ed offered a wink to your curious stare before he finished and pulled back. He couldn’t see but you still twisted bashfully.
Leroy was in horror, eyes wide and jaw slack. Jim had finally made Ed’s deeply confused back up when Leroy whispered, “How do you know about that?”
“Not important.”
Leroy took a deep shaky breath, looking about the room and swaying in his spot, trying to find a way to save himself. The scene made Ed smile more, his hands itching and his blood surging watching Leroy crack and turn into a frantic animal under the pressure. As Leroy’s eyes started to turn glossy and red, he stepped back and motioned you were free.
Dumbfounded by the development, you took the small hop to stand by Nygma and look up at him. Leroy scurried off fast, head bowed and breathing heavy, but gone all the same. With awe in your voice you asked like you were standing next to a valiant hero, “How did you do that?”
He went to reply, but whatever had taken over him crumbled under your bright gaze and Jim giving him a little too hard victory shoulder-punch to congratulate him. Ed chuckled helplessly, fixing his hair and twisting about with stumbling words. “It’s all about knowing the right information I guess.”
“It was amazing!” You gapped, making him all the more bashful. Biting your lip you began reasoning away. He was reserved like you, staying out of conflicts. But Edward came to your rescue in a way no one ever had before. That meant he liked you, right? “Uh… so… obviously my phone is mine and I do have a working number… maybe… you want mine?”
Ed glanced back aghast to Jim and Harvey who both mouthed YES, faces agitated with his pause. Coming back he answered, “Yes!? Of course!”
The date was so much more than you expected. It wasn’t expensive and fancy but he took to eat at a small dinner that deserved to be known by the world, took you to a place no one knew about to see above the city. Now he was walking you home, both of you a touch tipsy from the wine, giggly and swaying into one another to keep warm.
“Okay, okay, ‘The Maker doesn’t buy me, the Buyer doesn’t use me, and the User doesn’t know me. What am I?”
Although, he had been asking you riddles all night. At first you were brushing them off as little jokes but now you were trying, and failing miserably. Tipping your head onto him you giggled to the sky and thought. “Aaaah… a pill?”
“What?! No! How did you get a pill?!”
“A pill maker doesn’t take the pills! He sells them! And most people don’t know what goes into the drugs they’re taking!”
“He might take it! And the buyer buys pills because they need pills!”
“Not if they're the guy who’s buying and selling the bonds of the company who makes the pills!”
Ed was on the verge of wheezing in his laughter. “A coffin! It was a coffin!”
“Ooh! Yeah I can see that!” You two stumbled a bit, laughing down the empty street. The light of the streetlamp hit a certain car just right, catching your eye and making your laughter fade. It wasn’t a usual on your street, but it was a usual at the precinct. Your heart gave a stutter as you sobered up in fear. “Isn’t that Leroy's car?”
Ed looked over as well and as the door to it opened, Leroy slipped out. Whose hand disappeared behind his back before pulling out his gun. You clutched onto Ed as he confirmed, stiff as a board. “Yep, that would be Leroy.”
You tugged on Ed to run with you, but he held still. There was nothing in his expression that said he wasn’t as frightened as you, yet he wouldn’t run. Ed teetered back with his hands up as Leroy aimed the gun at his chest.
The detective was a mess. Hard liquor wafting off him, tears streaming down his red face, he couldn’t even see straight to aim the gun properly.
“You bastard!" he spewed to Ed. "I did what I had to! It’s survival out here! Not something a geek like you would understand!” He rubbed away his face with his sleeve, sniffling before finding you two again. “They own us, they own us all! He should have understood that!”
Peeking out from behind Ed and clinging onto him for dear life, you whispered, “Ed, what is he talking about?”
Giving a hiss, he whispered back down to you, “That he killed his partner for trying to defy the mob?”
You gasped both at the reveal and that Ed even knew. “Is that what you threatened him with earlier!?”
“I had to think of something to throw him off!” He defended.
“Shut up! Both of you! You don’t get it! You wouldn’t get it!” Leroy stumbled into you both trying to press forward. The gun tapped on Eds chest and he grabbed it, ripping it out of Leroy’s hand with ease. All three of you looked at the weapon in shock, baffled how it could have switched hands like you all didn’t witness it.
Ed and you jumped back out of reach and he aimed the gun. “Leroy, it’s time for you to go home now. Preferably by walking.”
Leroy scoffed in disgust. “You’re not going to shoot me! I’ve killed more people than you’ve had dates!”
The gun dipped in Ed insulted posture, the timidness dwindling fast. “That’s wasn’t very nice.” he snapped.
Ed turned to you thinking he might distract his anger and calm you down. While you were staring at him with wide-eyed anticipation, it wasn’t in fear. Your eyes dodged to the gun and to him, biting your lip at the weapon now resting much more confident in his grip. Ed smiled down at you, feeling the same thrilled rush in you that he had when pointing the gun.
“This is ridiculous, give me my gun back you losers.” He took one step forward and the gun went off, the sound cracking off the walls and through the streets. Leroy looked at his stomach, blood seeping and dripping fast into his white shirt. Instead of going down, he enraged, baring his teeth and ready to charge Ed who was as stunned as you were. Leroy moved only slightly and Ed fired again, losing count as he emptied the barrel into Leroy until he was on the ground and still.
You both stared at his body, jaws wide and the air misting your heavy breathing. “It-it was self defense!” You claimed.
“Self defense! Right!” Ed frantically agreed.
“That’s right it was self defense!”
“Self defense!”
You both looked back at the body, the smiles fading. “Except you shot him quite a few times… it usually doesn’t hold up in court if you keep attacking after they go down.”
“What!? Why doesn’t that hold up in court!?”
“Cause if they can’t fight they’re not a danger to you anymore, meaning no longer self-defense.”
“He-he’s a big guy though…” Ed tried to reason, gesturing with the gun like it was a simple extension of his hand. However you’d been in enough court cases to explain evidence to know. You shrugged and he sighed.
A car driving fast enough to push the engine startled you both despite it being in the distance. “We should move him.” You patted Ed’s chest. “Someone will call the police soon if they haven’t already.”
Ed looked at the gun in his hand, using his coat to wipe it down before shoving it in his pocket. “We’ll take him to his car. Leave behind as little evidence as possible.”
“Right.” You nodded, flipping Leroy over with a grunt. “Man, he’s as heavy as he looks.” Sifting through his pockets you took his keys, wallet, and phone. Getting between his legs you hiked them under your arms while Ed wrestled with carrying his top half.
Scuffling to the car, you unceremoniously dropped a leg and struggled to open the trunk. Forgetting what he was holding, Ed dropped Leroy to reach out and help you. You both gasped and felt a little bad about the loud thunk Leroy’s head gave, stepping back like he would wake up and yell at you both. But Leroy was dead as dead, and Ed jiggled the lock until the trunk popped open.
Stuffing him in there and slamming the lid shut, you both rushed into the seats up front, ignoring the clutter of garbage and stench of stale beer.
In a huff, you two turned and stared into one another. Ed was unsure what to say or do that might comfort you. But comfort was far from what you wanted from him.
In a leap you wrapped your arms around his neck and crashed your lips to his. A muffled hum of confusion escaped him before realizing what you were doing. Ed thought he was the only one not as scared or horrified as he should be. In fact, killing someone that felt like an old bully, getting the girl, he felt like a damn hero. Relaxing, he wrapping his arms around you in the first kiss after a first date.
I've never posted my face on here ???¿?¿ I was tagged by @icedthaitea (thank you cutie 💕💕) And I'll tag; @kangmin @lunailly @softcbx @04yuta @ultblackpink @hoe4jimin @teambusan @gugusdan (you don't have to if you don't want to, do what makes you comfortable ❣️)
I do a lot of cool shit at work but because of discretion and non-disclosure agreements I'm not allowed to take or post photos or even mention 80% of it to ANYONE including family and friends for some upcoming shit we got ugh it's killing me. I learn about so many new technologies and things before they are even shared to the public and I'm meeting rich and famous people left and right, working for some of the biggest companies in the world. I promise I'm doing shit with my life I just can't tell you what it fucking is.
