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fastandcarlos · 2 days

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Dating A⇴Z Headcanon ⇴ Charles LeClerc

A ⇴ AFFECTION

Charles is an incredibly affectionate person, particularly when the two of you are behind closed doors. He loves having you as close to him as possible, where his hands can rest on your waist or his fingertips can brush gently through your hair.

B ⇴ BEFORE DATING

You both knew of each other before you started dating, you’d passed each other a few times in the paddock and smiled politely at one another as you rushed around to get all of your jobs done for your teams. However as soon as you’d finished your first conversation, Charles was sure that you were someone who he wanted to get to know and spend a lot of time alongside.

C ⇴ CONFESSION

One night when things were starting to get packed up and everyone was preparing themselves to head home after the race, Charles took a hold of your hand and pulled you into a quiet corner, making sure that there was definitely no one around. He was supposed to be celebrating yet another podium but instead he found himself sat in front of you, pouring his heart out to you as he found himself unable to clear his mind of thoughts of you.

D ⇴ DATES

He treats you like the most important thing in the world when it comes to your dates, Charles pays close attention to the things that you like and organises things that he knows you’ll enjoy. Most of your dates are usually quite private as Charles hates to have your moments together ruined by fans or cameras. Your favourite date with Charles was when he took you out to dinner, with you both dressed up wanting to impress the other, enjoying endless conversation as you sat at a table which always overlooked the beautiful sunset of Monaco.

E ⇴ EXPERIENCE

It was well known that you weren’t the first partner that Charles had, but he was adamant that with you things felt completely different and more special than with anyone else before. At times you worried that you didn’t live up to those who came before you, however Charles was always there to reassure you and insisted time and time again that he was at his happiest whenever he was with you. He didn’t care how many times he told you, whatever relationships he had before didn’t matter to him now that he had found you.

F ⇴ FIGHTING

There are definitely moments when Charles can get quite passionate and sometimes you both tend to get a little bit heated with one another. However, Charles never lets an argument go on for longer than it needs to, mostly because he knows how little time you have to spend together, and he absolutely refuses to leave you for work knowing that the two of you aren’t talking. Even if you don’t want to talk to him, Charles will talk at you and make sure that you know how he feels and how sorry he is, especially when he reluctantly has to admit that he’s the one in the wrong.

G ⇴ GETTING TO KNOW HIS FAMILY

You were like another sibling in his family, you got on with his siblings like a house on fire and they were definitely fond of you. You’d felt welcomed by them since day one and it melted Charles heart being able to sit back and watch as you and his brothers made each other laugh and teased one another at every opportunity.

H ⇴ HOME

There was never any pressure from Charles for the two of you to move in together, but that didn’t stop him dropping hints constantly about how nice it would be. He loved having you at his place where he was able to keep an eye on you, and if he was honest, the day you agreed to move in with him was one of Charles’ favourite days ever.

I ⇴ “I LOVE YOU”

Charles was the first one to whisper those three little words as the two of you reunited at the end of a race. Monaco was special, but when Charles finally won it, he was on top of the world. As his arms wrapped around you, he whispered closely into your ear, wanting you to know how big of a part you’d also played in helping you finally win the race and achieve his dreams.

J ⇴ JEALOUS

He had his moments when Charles would find himself getting jealous, he wasn’t proud of it, but he couldn’t help being so protective of you and your relationship together. If someone started talking to you that left a sour taste in his mouth, Charles would stand a little bit closer to you and usually wrap his arm around you as if he was silently sending a message to the person to let them know that you were his and there was no point them even trying to get to know you.

K ⇴ KIDS

There was no secret from Charles that he wanted to have kids, but he also made it clear to you that he was in no rush and would happily wait. He promised to wait until you were both ready, but that didn’t stop him gushing sometimes about what an incredible mum you would be someday. Quite often you would snap Charles out of a daydream as he found himself wondering about how amazing a family of your own would be.

L ⇴ LAUGHTER

The two of you were a double act together, you knew exactly how to make each other laugh which made others laugh around you too as they watched you both goof around. At times you had quite a blunt humour with one another, your dry jokes would leave you both sniggering and prodding against the other person in fits of giggles. You particularly found yourself laughing at Charles’ silly side, a part of him that he often saved for behind closed doors, not wanting to share that side of himself with the rest of the world.

M ⇴ MISSING

It was tricky for Charles to be away from you, he would always worry about you and want to know that you were safe. In the back of his mind, he’d never quite find himself able to not fret a little bit. Whenever he had a spare couple of minutes he would be trying to get in contact with you, keen to hear your voice and see for himself that things were alright. As much as he wished that you could constantly be by his side, Charles was also very supportive and aware of the fact that you had your own career and that sometimes you needed that time apart in order to both be able to achieve your dreams.

N ⇴ NICKNAMES

Charles was full of nicknames for you, the sweeter the better as far as he was concerned. He loved when his nicknames were able to make your smile turn up and turn the colour in your cheeks into a slight crimson colour.

O ⇴ OBSESSION

He was obsessed with your smile as it filled Charles heart with love. He was always wanting to make sure you were happy, and knowing that he was the reason for that smile made it all the more meaningful.

P ⇴ PDA

Neither of you were huge on PDA, however everyone knew that you were a couple. Charles often held your hand or wrapped his arm around your waist to make sure that you were by his side and didn’t end up getting separated from him, and when he felt his confidence grow, he’d be there to plant a sweet kiss against your lips.

Q ⇴ QUESTIONS

One of the things Charles loved to do was ask you questions about your futures. He was intrigued to know how you saw the rest of your life panning out, particularly when you talked about how you envisioned life with Charles.

R ⇴ RANDOM FACTS

No one aside from you knew this, but in his race boot Charles kept a photo of you so that you were still with him whenever he raced. He slid it in randomly once when he was still a junior and it seemed to bring him luck, and so ever since then it had just continued to be routine for him. He never changed the photo, despite the fact after so many years it was getting damaged, as he never wanted to change his superstition.

S ⇴ SEX

The most important thing to Charles when the two of you have sex is that you feel loved and that you feel adored in his company. He’s surprisingly romantic when it comes to those intimate moments between the two of you, Charles can be quite vocal, whispering sweet nothings into your ear and running his fingers through your hair. He’ll do anything just to make sure that you know exactly how much he loves you.

T ⇴ TEXTS

It’s the first thing that Charles does when he wakes up in the morning, he always sends you a message to see how you’ve slept or wish you good night, depending on where you are in the world and your difference in time zones.

U ⇴ UNIVERSE

You were the centre of Charles’ world and he couldn’t be prouder to make sure that everyone else knew that too. He gushed about you constantly and gave you a lot of credit for all of the amazing things he was doing in life.

V ⇴ VACATION

During the off season Charles loved to go away with you, switching off from everything and forgetting about the chaos that usually followed your lives. Your phones would be off and your attention would solely be on each other as you explored a new place together and made plenty of new memories with one another too.

W ⇴ WHINING

Although Charles was understanding when other people were around, that didn’t stop him from whining when you weren’t paying even just a small bit of attention to him too.

X ⇴ XXXX

You always felt the amount of love that Charles had for you in his kisses. Each one was delivered to you with sentiment and meaning, he never liked to just kiss you without reason. His favourite place to kiss you was against your cheek or against the corner of your smile as when he leaned over your shoulder to place it there it meant that Charles had the perfect view of your smile when he pulled away from you again.

Y ⇴ YOU

You were everything to Charles, he simply adored you.

Z ⇴ ZZZ

One thing about Charles that never fails to surprise you is how cuddly he is at night, he refuses to let you go and makes sure to hold you as close to his chest for warmth as possible.

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

#f1 #f1 imagine #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 reaction #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #formula 1 x you #formula one imagine #formula 1 fic #formula one #f1 fic

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heizlut · 1 day

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Mine, All Mine

ꕀ cw: slight exhibitionism

ꕀ tags: bratty sub fem!reader, hard dom!geshu lin, creampie, cockwarming, marking, humiliation if you squint, rough sex

ꕀ nsfw under the cut

ꕀ m!list here

ꕀ a/n: @glitteryshlong this one’s for you bestie😚

Being Geshu Lin’s girl could be hard at times considering he asked you to keep the relationship a secret, stating something about how ‘If enemies knew about you, they’d use it against me.’ and ‘I’m the general. I can’t appear weak to affections.’

The first part you could understand, but the second made you roll your eyes. Since when was loving someone considered weak? But as stubborn as he is, you couldn’t change his mind with words. Gods, how you’ve tried. But… You could provoke him.

It was a silly thing to do, going around in your medic uniform with the skirt rolled at the waist to the point of barely covering your perfect, round ass, the top few buttons of your shirt left undone to expose the swell of your breasts peeking through.

Strutting through the base as you went about your own business, tending to those who needed it and going as far as to make lunches for the soldiers. Your pretty heels click against the ground as you walk, the sway of your hips was hypnotizing to the soldiers as you passed by.

Handing off a couple bento boxes to some soldiers with a pretty smile, “Here you go. Be sure to eat your fill. Can’t have strong men like you feeling weak in battle because you weren’t able to eat enough~”

The two men gawk down at you before smirking, one speaking up, “Well would ya look at that. What a sweet thing you are doing this for us~ What’s the occasion?” You just give a small smirk back, your words dripping like honey, “No reason. Just felt like helping out a little extra around here.”

The two soldiers chuckle, the other of the pair speaking up this time, “It’s always a pleasure whenever we get to see you, hun.” Their eyes trail over your body hungrily, and you flash a smile, “Glad to hear it~”

You strut away, tossing your hair over your shoulder and holding your head high. Peeking to the side, you spot Geshu Lin surrounded by a few soldiers, practically seething at what he’s just witnessed. His eyes trail over your form with a snarl, taking in the bounce of your breasts as you walk and the way your skirt hugs your ass.

You just give him a little smirk, to which he gives you a dangerous look as if to tell you that if you kept this up, you’d be in for it big time. But no, you weren’t about to drop the act. Instead you fed fuel to the fire when you gave out your last bento box to another irrelevant soldier, placing your hand on his chest acting all cute when he thanked you for the meal, leaving the poor man as a blushing mess as you walk away.

That was it. Geshu Lin was done with whatever the fuck you thought you were doing. With a low growl, he excused himself from the gathered soldiers who were speaking with him, pushing past them to march over to you.

If you weren’t trying to keep up this petty bullshit as you continued to strut through the base and back towards the medical center, you would’ve run like hell. The look in his eyes was one of a predator as it closed in on its prey.

You picked up your pace, trying your best to maintain your facade but no one could match the speed of the general. His strong hand grips your wrist and tugs you towards an unoccupied side of of the building outside.

Geshu Lin pins yours wrists above your head in one hand, pushing you against the wall with a snarl as he leans close to your face, “What in the hell do you think you’re doing, huh?” You play innocent, giving him pretty little doe-eyes, “I don’t know what you-ngh!”

His forceful grip on your jaw with his free hand cuts you off, “Drop the act, doll, and answer the damn question.” Geshu Lin’s hot breath fans across your lips, his golden eyes glowing with rage. Before you can answer, a soldier appears around the corner where the two of you stood, clearing his throat.

Geshu Lin run his tongue across his teeth before releasing you, turning his attention to the soldier, “What could you possibly want right now? Can’t you see I’m busy?” The soldier stands there with a sheepish look on his face, “Uh. Apologies but this is urgent. We need you in the meeting room. It seems like we have another Tacet Field incident near Desorock Highland.”

Geshu Lin huffs out a breath of annoyance but nods, “I’ll be there shortly. Gather everyone else.” With a quick nod, the soldier hurries off, glad to be away from whatever he just witnessed. Turning back to look down at you, Geshu Lin gives you a pointed look, “You’re coming with me.” Before you can even ask why or protest, he has his hand around your wrist once again, pulling you along with him.

၊၊||၊:･.၊၊||၊:･.၊၊||၊:･.၊၊||၊:･.

The meeting room was empty, yet to be filled with soldiers awaiting orders from the general. Normally, this would piss Geshu Lin off, always expecting his men to be ready and waiting, especially if there was an emergency. But right now, he didn’t care. It allowed him to move forward with what he had planned for you.

Sitting in his usual seat at the head of the table, Geshu Lin pulls you towards him, causing you to stumble slightly off balance, “What the hell, Geshu?” He rolls his eyes and places his hands on your hips, giving them a little squeeze, “Watch the damn attitude and don’t even think about questioning me.”

His hands slide over you ass before giving it a harsh smack, making you yelp in surprise, “After the shitty little act you pulled earlier, I can’t say I’m in the best mood. Now strip off your panties.” Your eyebrows raise and you open your mouth to protest, only leading to another slap on your ass, much harsher than the last. “Take. Them. Off.”, Geshu Lin growls out.

Gritting your teeth, you do as he says, sliding the flimsy material off. He snatches it from your hand and grips your jaw, squeezing just enough to force your lips to part before stuffing the panties into your mouth, “Taste yourself. I bet you got so wet acting like a whore for everyone else.” You knew better than to go against him when he was like this, but that didn’t stop you from narrowing your eyes at him.

Ignoring your pointed look, Geshu Lin undoes his belt and pants, freeing his hardening cock and stroking it slowly as he kept his eyes on you, “Since today you want to act like a desperate slut, you’re going to be a good girl and keep my cock warm during this meeting.”

Your eyebrows furrow, as if to ask if he was actually serious right now. He only answers your look with a deadpan expression as his thumb rubs over the tip of his cock, “I’ve never been more serious in my life. Get on my cock. Now.”

His harsh words and demeanor made arousal spread through you. He really was hot when he got a little mean with you… You go to straddle him, facing him, but he stops you, clicking his tongue, “Ah-ah, nope. You’ll be facing everyone else since you want to be so... performative today.”

Arousal and shame surge through you at his words, but you comply. Turning away from him as you straddle his lap, his cock pushing against your wet entrance almost has you cumming right then and there as you ease yourself down.

But you take too long for his liking and his hands grip your waist and pulls you down on his cock, drawing a muffled moan from you and a groan through gritted teeth from him, “It’s better to hurry when you know the rest will be in here any second.”

Geshu Lin’s cock throbs inside of you and the sounds of footsteps can be heard approaching the room. Mercifully, he removes the now thoroughly soaked panties from your mouth and puts them in the small pocket of your uniform. He nips at your ear as he speaks in a whisper, “Try not to make any noise, doll, and don't you dare even think about cumming without my permission.”

As soldiers begin to pile into the room, many look confused as to why one of their favorite medics was there and also sitting on their general's lap. But they weren't exactly complaining since now they had something they found particularly delicious to look at as the general droned on.

Under their intense stares, you shift slightly on Geshu Lin's cock as heat rises to your cheeks, causing him to squeeze your hips as a silent warning to keep still. It takes everything in you not to whimper softly at the warning, especially when his cock twitches every once in awhile inside of you.

Geshu Lin looks to his soldiers before speaking with his usual cold and commanding voice, "I thought this was urgent. Now speak up so we can figure out how to deal with this fucking mess." One of the soldiers quickly speaks up, "Y-yes, sir. There's a new tacet field near Desorock Highlands. The people near there have been struggling greatly with the tacet discords that are pouring out of it."

As the soldier continues on, Geshu Lin's hands begin to wander across your body. His fingers trailing up your thighs under the table, gently squeezing the flesh, making sure you stay compliant under his touch. Your cunt clenches around his cock as you bite your lip, making Geshu Lin huff out a strained, breathy chuckle.

The soldier pauses, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "Sir? Is something funny about this?" The others have their eyes on both you and Geshu Lin, questioning and curious. A hint of a smirk crosses his features, "Of course not."

He reaches up with one hand and moves your hair over your shoulder, exposing your neck, his lips grazing the exposed flesh as his eyes stay locked on his soldiers in a frightening display of dominance, "But maybe our lovely medic has something to add?"

The soldiers shift in their positions, trying to hide their arousal at such a suggestive sight. Your cheeks flush hot under their scrutiny as they wait for you to speak. Geshu Lin's hot breath teases along your skin as he speaks in a low, husky voice, "Go on, doll. You were so friendly with all of them earlier. Don't act shy now~"

You shift on his cock once more, your insides squeezing his length again when his hand that was still on your thigh, begins to softly trace over your clit, "I-I can provide medical assistance at the s-site-ngh..." The soldiers eyes widen at the noise that came from you, some biting their hand to restrain themselves.

Geshu Lin's smirk widens as he presses his finger against your clit, making you let out a hiccuping gasp, "What a good girl you are, always ready to help when needed..." The soldiers stare wide-eyed with flushed cheeks as they begin to finally understand what could be happening under the meeting table out of their view.

Their eyes trail over the swell of your breasts peeking through the top you purposefully left unbuttoned earlier today, watching as they move in time with your quick breathing. One feeling bold, "accidentally" drops his pen and begins to bend down in hopes of catching a peek at what was going on under there, but Geshu Lin's golden eyes snap towards him. His voice a low snarl, "Leave it."

The soldier freezes in place, but slowly straightens back up, trying to avoid his general's threatening gaze. Silence falls over the room, only the sound of your heavy, strained breathing can be heard as your pretty pussy leaks all over his cock and dripping down and making a mess on his pants below. His narrowed eyes scan over the others, watching carefully as they stand there almost too afraid to even breathe too loud lest they face his wrath.

His lips curl up in a cruel smirk, satisfied that no one would dare to try to pull something like that again. His eyes trail down to your trembling form in his lap, trying so hard to keep still and not reveal more to the others.

Geshu Lin's finger resumes in teasing your clit in a slow, torturous pace as you squirm against him. Looking back to his soldiers, he speak in a commanding tone, "We move out tonight. Now get out of my sight."

The soldiers move quickly out of the meeting room, grateful they wouldn't have to restrain themselves at the lewd sight of you struggling in their general's lap. The second the room was cleared out, Geshu Lin grips your hips, standing quickly as he forces you to bend over the table, making you gasp from the sudden movement.

He thrusts forward, hard and deep, not even giving you the chance to regain your senses. He grips your hair with one hand, tugging your head up towards the door that had been left open just a crack as he leans down towards your ear, speaking in a low growl, "Such a whore. You fucking liked that, didn't you. Sitting all pretty and squirming on my cock while my soldiers practically fucked you with their eyes."

Each word he speaks is punctuated by sharp thrusts as his thick cock abuses your dripping hole over and over. "Ngh! G-Geshu, please!", you cry out as your pretty tits bounce with the force of his cock fucking into you, threatening to spill out from their confines. Ignoring your pleas for mercy, he bites down on your neck, marking you with his teeth with a husky groan, "Take my cock like the slut you are."

Lewd moans fall easily from your lips, your cunt squelching along his girthy length as you go dumb on his cock. Geshu Lin huffs out a laugh as he continues to mark up your skin, leaving purple marks as a testament to his possessive love for you, "Come on, doll, tell me who's fucking this slutty hole, huh? Say it."

"G-Geshu -ngh f-fuuuuck....", you moan out, your eyes rolling back as drool begins to slip from your open mouth. His smirk looks more like a dangerous snarl as his cock throbs hard inside of your twitching, squelching hole. He lets go of your hip only to deliver a resounding smack to your ass, making you cry out, "Say it again. Scream my fucking name."

His aching balls slap against your clit with each thrust, driving you closer and closer to orgasm as you babble his name between whorish moans like a desperate prayer. Your cunt clenches tight around his thick length as you cum all over his cock. Clear liquid squirts out of your hole, dripping down his balls and to the floor.

Geshu Lin snarls at the feeling and the sight, releasing his grip on your hair to hold your hips with so much force it was bound to leave you with bruises as he picks up his pace.

Without his fingers tangling into your hair, you fall limp against the meeting table, your breasts squished against the wood as they bounce. Your own drool begins to pool against the table as you're fucked mercilessly by the general you called your boyfriend.

Geshu Lin's eyes roll back at the sight of you, his pretty little girlfriend all dumb for him. His balls tighten and he grips you a little tighter as his flesh slaps against your sore ass, "You're going to take all my cum. Let it fucking drip out of you and down those pretty legs of yours." With one more sharp thrust and shuddering growl, ropes of thick cum spill out of his cock and into your cunt.

His cock throbs and pulsates as he rides out his orgasm. His silver hair sticking to his sweaty forehead as his broad chest heaves with shallow breaths. Your legs shake as they struggle to keep you standing in your pretty heels, only Geshu Lin's hold on your hips keeps you steady. He slips his softened cock out of your spent hole, golden eyes watching in satisfaction as his cum leaks out of you.

A sharp gasp sounds towards the cracked door, catches his attention as his eyes snap up. There stands a soldier who had been peeking in on their little encounter, his cock in his hand as his own release dribbles down his fist. Geshu Lin's lips twitch into a dangerous smirk as the soldier quickly tucks himself back into his pants and begins to turn away to flee the scene.

Geshu Lin clicks his tongue, making the soldier freeze, "Come here, soldier." The soldiers eyes widen, practically shaking in his boots as he obeys the general's command, his eyes quickly looking down at your fucked out form, your upper half still laying against the table. Geshu Lin grips your hair and pulls your head up gently, making you look at the soldier with dazed eyes.

His golden eyes look to the trembling, flushed soldier, "Go on, thank our pretty medic for giving you a show." Heat rushes to the man's cheeks as he stumbles over his words, "Th-thank you..."

Too fucked out to even process Geshu Lin's perverted display of dominance over you, you only let out a soft whimper. Geshu Lin's lips form a small smirk, "You're dismissed." The soldier practically runs out of there as his thoughts swirl rapidly.

Geshu Lin wraps a strong arm around your waist as he pulls you up, cradling you in his arms as he sits back down in his seat, cooing softly against your hair and pressing sweet kisses to your temple, "My pretty girl. You're mine... All mine."

၊၊||၊:･.၊၊||၊:･.၊၊||၊:･.၊၊||၊:･.

After that day, the soldiers were almost too afraid to even look at you, even when you treated their wounds and greeted them as you crossed their paths. They knew better than to act too friendly with you and you knew better than to pull a petty stunt for attention again lest you all face the wrath of the fierce general. They now knew you were his girl.

Geshu Lin didn't need to announce it with words, his display was more than enough to send a clear message: She's mine.

၊၊||၊:･.၊၊||၊:･.၊၊||၊:･.၊၊||၊:･.၊၊||၊:･.၊၊

a/n: safe to say, reader's mission was a success🥴

#geshu lin x reader #geshu lin smut #geshulin smut #wuthering waves smut #wuwa smut #geshulin x reader smut #geshu lin wuthering waves #geshu lin wuwa #wuwa x reader #wuthering waves x reader #wuwa x reader smut #wuthering waves x reader smut

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songsbygumi · 2 days

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`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ ELEVATOR ENCOUNTERS - NANAMI KENTO

Finance major Nanami x art major reader has been on my mind for a while. If you have any thoughts on this concept or want to share anything else, please feel free to do so!

Nanami holds the elevator door for you, raising an eyebrow as he presses the open button, watching you make your way over. Your hair is disheveled, and you're dressed in an outfit hardly suitable for this type of office—jeans and a band tee.

"Thank you," you say, attempting to steady your breath and offering him a grateful smile. "I couldn't afford to be late again."

He remains silent, merely humming in acknowledgment, waiting for you to press another floor button. Instead, you take a sip from your coffee thermos before continuing.

"I haven't seen you before," you say, taking another sip and pausing for a moment. "Are you here for the finance internship?" He only nods in reply.

Nanami isn't one for small talk, especially not with people he's just met in an elevator. He prefers to keep to himself, offering little more than nods and occasional hums as you ramble on about the work team and your bosses, even though you only met him a few seconds ago and don't even know his name.

In just two minutes, you've managed to inform Nanami that you've been interning here since last year, as part of the design team. It makes sense to him; your easygoing, bubbly demeanor, coupled with your chattiness, fit the bill. As the elevator doors finally open, you give him a small wave and a smile (you have a pretty smile, he notes), along with a quick "Good luck with the interview."

Nanami lands the internship. The following Monday, he shows up bright and early for his first day. The office is practically deserted when he arrives, and it's not until an hour later that you finally show up. He watches as you step out of the elevator, a yawn escaping your mouth, and you rub your eyes while sipping what he assumes is coffee.

You catch his gaze over the partition separating his cubicle from the others and offer him a tired smile. Nanami blushes a little but smiles back, unable to tear his gaze away as you head to the marketing area.

The next time he sees you, you're seated in a corner of the school cafeteria, surrounded by a colorful array of watercolors spread out on your table. Your food sits forgotten in a corner as you concentrate deeply on the canvas laid out in front of you.

"Like her?" Geto inquires, placing his food on the table and settling beside Nanami. "She's nice," he responds, observing you as you bite the corner of your brush in concentration.

"You know her?" Nanami asks, surprised.

"Yeah, she tutored Gojo last semester," Geto explains, nodding towards you. Nanami raises an eyebrow at Geto, pointing out the obvious contradiction—how could you tutor him when all three of them were finance students? "She tutored him on academic writing," Geto clarifies, "She's in an art major you should talk to her."

“Who are we talking to?” Gojo asks, taking a seat at the table. Nanami huffs and leaves.

songsbymegumi, please do not plagiarize, repost, translate to other sites, or recommend my content outside of Tumblr.

note.-I'm not familiar with the education system in the USA, so I did my best to research majors and subjects.

#moonswrites #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #nanami imagines #kento nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #nanami kento #jjk nanami #kento nanami #nanami fluff #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen x you

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watchmegetobsessed · 2 days

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OLD GRUDGES (part 4)

A/N: it took me foreverrrr to finish this, but at last its here and thats what matters!! this is the final part of this mini series, hope you guys enjoyed their dynamic

WORD COUNT: 4.7k

SUMMARY: Harry and Y/N go way back. Working together was like a dream when 1D was still going strong. Now, years later, when they end up working together again, things are very different. Mostly because Y/N seems to be hating Harry passionately. But he has not idea why.

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

The past two days Harry has questioned quite a few times whether he somehow ended up in a parallel universe or maybe someone has been playing a very sick joke on him. Either way, he wants it to never end.

Y/N hasn't left his house since the night of the break-in. In fact, she barely left… his arms, his bed… his mind. Not that he is complaining, waking up to Y/N in the morning, having breakfast with her, showering with her, spending the day just coexisting, always spending time together have been his personal piece of heaven. It’s been quite a sudden change, but he would quite literally do anything to keep it this way for as long as possible.

Today they are forced to leave their cocoon though. Y/N has to go to the police to do some paperwork about the break-in, though there hasn’t been any news about the case unfortunately, then later they have to hit up the studio for a session. But at least the morning is theirs.

When Harry steps out of the bathroom in a pair of sweatpants and a simple white t-shirt his hair is still damp as he makes his way around the bedroom, digging through his dresser for a pair of socks and plugging his charger into his phone before he walks out, heading into the kitchen where he knows Y/N is already sipping on her morning coffee just like she was yesterday and the day before. She made herself home quite fast, but he doesn’t mind. Actually, he loves the thought of his home as a trustworthy place for her as well, where she feels confident enough to do whatever she wants or take whatever she needs.

Sitting by the dining table, her legs are pulled underneath her, the coffee is still steaming in the red mug she silently chose for herself to use during her stay. She is scrolling through probably some news page on her phone, playing with the hem of her (his) sweatshirt.

“G’Morning,” Harry smiles as he enters, though they only separated about fifteen minutes ago when Harry left her in bed to shower.

“Hi.” Her face brightens at the sight of him and it clutches his heart every time.

As strange as the movement might have been just a week ago, now it feels as natural as breathing when Harry walks past her and presses a kiss to the top of her head before continuing his path to the kitchen to pour himself some coffee as well.

They drink it first, talking, checking emails, getting ready for the day and then the phones are put away as they make breakfast and eat, strictly only focusing on each other. It’s been their usual without ever agreeing on it.

And Harry loves every moment of it.

“Do you want me to go to the station with you?” Harry asks over their now empty plates.

“No,” she shakes her head. “It’s fine, it’ll be quick. I’ll meet you at the studio.”

“Alright.”

Hugging her knees to her chest, she is staring out the window that faces the sunny backyard while Harry’s eyes are glued to her face. While she is seemingly lost in her own thoughts, Harry’s mind gets into a spiral on his own. He’s been dancing on the edge of a burning question, but hasn’t found the right moment to ask it and quite honestly, he’s also afraid it might ruin their little bubble as well, so he’s been hesitant to bring it up. But it keeps nudging the back of his head whenever he gets lost in his whirlwind feelings for her.

What are we actually doing?

The amount of unsaid things and changes that happened lately are starting to pile up and he knows they need to address them sooner or later. It’s not just about the past few days, but what’s been happening even before the break-in. Their dynamic had shifted immensely, but they never talked about what it all means. Now they act like a couple, share a bed, kiss, touch, have sex and talk like it’s completely normal and expected when just a few weeks ago they were ready to murder each other over the tiniest disagreement.

Her phone buzzes on the table and reaching for it she turns it over to check the screen.

“I better start getting ready,” she sighs. Harry just nods as he watches her stand up, she brings her plate and mug to the dishwasher and then heads back to the bedroom, brushing her hand over his shoulder as she walks past. A gentle move, but it bears so much for Harry.

Being apart from Y/N almost feels wrong. After she leaves to the station Harry runs a few errands, picks up a package and then heads to the studio, only thinking about whether she’s alright or not. He keeps checking his phone, hoping for a text or a call from her, like a lovesick puppy. Somewhere deep down he knows that he shouldn’t feel this deeply for her at this point, when everything seems fragile and ready to spill any moment, but he just can’t find the will in himself to care and do something about it.

When she finally texts him that she’s on her way, he can finally breathe as relief washes over him. He tries to busy himself and not stare at the door, waiting for her to walk in, though he kind of fails. Miserably.

“Hi,” she greets him walking into the studio and Harry practically jumps to his feet as if his chair was on fire.

“How did it go?” He asks, his hand twitching to reach out to touch her, but he decides against it at last. She drops her bag onto the sofa that’s pushed against the wall before puffing out a sigh as she turns to face him.

“Nothing extra. Actually, nothing. I mean, they know absolutely nothing, there are no clues, nothing. Whoever did it was a genius and made sure to leave no trace behind.”

“How is it possible that they have zero clues? There must be something, a fingerprint, footage, anything.”

“There were a few fingerprints, but no match came up, so it’s useless at this point.”

“So then what happens now?”

“The case stays open for a bit, thes keep working on it, but honestly, I feel like there’s no point. They won’t find anything so I’ll just have to move on.”

“And go back to your place?” Harry asks. Part of him is panicking by the thought of letting her go back there on her own and then the other one because he doesn’t want her gone. He’s selfish and wants to keep her with him at all times, he is not ready to pop the bubble they’ve been living in the past days.

“I can’t camp at your place forever.” Her words and face say different things. Because the way she is smiling at him as they both take seats tells him that she might actually like the idea of staying with him.

And he likes it too.

“Let’s just put this all aside, okay? I want to work and forget all this shit.”

“Okay,” Harry nods.

It’s easy for them to slip into work and leave everything else behind as music takes over their mind. It’s their first time working together since the shift between them and it appears that the change hasn’t been only affecting their private dynamic, but their professional as well, luckily in the best way possible. It is as if they could sense each other’s thoughts, they barely even have to communicate when they want to change something, the other just knows, just like how quick they share new ideas, barely saying a few words before the other is already making it happen.

“As much as I would love to keep going, I think we should call it a night,” Harry turns his phone’s screen towards her so she can see how late it is now. Almost ten pm, they’ve been working for hours and now that Harry noticed just how long they’ve been here, they both can feel how tired they actually are.

“Alright, alright. I’ll finish this when we get home then. I really want to get it done.” Sighing she shuts her computer and while she packs her stuff scattered around the studio, Harry is trying his best not to point out how she referred to his place as home.

But the pleased smirk that’s hiding in the corners of his mouth is kind of a tell what he is thinking about.

She rests her head on his shoulder in the back of the car on the drive home and once again, Harry selfishly ignores the urge to talk about their current state and just enjoys her closeness. Walking into the house he heads to the kitchen to make a tea for them both while she sits by the dining table to finish up the editing she started in the studio. They are talking and joking around and Harry can’t wait to drag her into the bathroom for a shower once she is done.

He is scrolling on his phone with his tea in his other hand when he can sense the change. He feels it before she says anything.

Looking up he can tell she is tense, her body appears frozen as she is staring at her computer.

“Everything alright?” he asks, tilting his head to the side, but she doesn’t answer, just starts vigorously typing and opening things on the computer.

“No, no, no, this can’t be happening again,” she whispers as Harry slowly approaches her.

“Y/N, what’s the matter?”

“It’s… No, no!” she chokes, jumping to her feet, looking more anxious than he has ever seen her. Harry tries to lean closer to have a look at the screen, but she practically pushes him back, grabbing the laptop from the table.

“Don’t fucking touch it!”

“What the fuck is going on?” Harry asks, now starting to lose his mind over not knowing what the problem is, what caused her to act this wild all of a sudden.

“It’s not there! They are all gone!”

“What’s gone? Did you not save what we recorded today? It’s okay, we can–”

“No! I’m not talking about what we did today! All of my unreleased songs! Everything I never gave away to the artists I worked with in the past year! They are all gone!”

Her voice keeps switching from a whisper to shouting in just a matter of seconds as she is anxiously pacing the floor back and forth with the laptop still in her hands.

“What do you mean gone?” Harry asks, still pretty puzzled about what’s going on.

Then Y/N stops and the look she gives him sends a shiver down his spine. It’s as if she has turned into a whole different person in the past few seconds.

“Did you do it?” she asks in a tone that without a look of her expression would sound normal, but her eyes are bewildered and Harry’s pulse just keeps rising as he stares back at her.

“Do what?”

“Did you fucking take them? Huh? Was it you?!”

“Y/N, what are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about what you already did once! Fuck’s sake I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you!”

She storms past him, into the bedroom and Harry follows her, his anger mixing with confusion as he is trying to put the pieces together, with not much luck so far. When he catches up with her, she is throwing her stuff into her suitcase.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m leaving!” she snaps. Harry tries to get closer and make her stop, but as soon as his hand reaches her shoulder, she jerks away. “Don’t touch me!”

“Y/N slow the fuck down and tell me what’s going on!” he pleads, his growing fear of having to watch her leave taking over his mind.

“Don’t act like you have no idea! I really thought what happened then was a one time thing, I made myself believe that you were young, maybe someone influenced you! But it’s not the same now!”

“What the hell are you talking about?!”

“I’m talking about when you stole my fucking song! That’s what I’m talking about!”

Even though she just said it clearly, Harry is now even more lost about what’s happening.

“Hold on! I stole your song? What the hell?!”

“Oh, don’t fucking act like you have no idea what I’m talking about,” she laughs bitterly as she keeps packing her things, like she is in a hurry to leave. “I really fooled myself into believing you changed, but this is proof you did not.”

“Y/N, I never stole anything from you! Would you stop packing and just talk to me?”

“How dare you say you never stole from me! Drop the fucking act, Harry! You know exactly what I’m talking about! Night Changes was my song, I showed it to you and then oh so conveniently I was not signed for the next album and the song was on it! Right after it disappeared from my computer!”

It takes time for Harry to even process her words. He is raking the deepest parts of his memory to put together what she is talking about and when his thoughts start to clear, she is already on her way out.

“Y/N wait!” He runs after her, catching up with her in the hallway. “I never stole Night Changes!”

“Then explain to me how the one song I showed you ended up on an album I never worked on?!” she snaps, suitcase still in her hand. “And explain how it happened again? I let you close and it happened again!”

“It looks fucking nuts, but it wasn’t me, Y/N, I promise!”

“We’ll see about that once the police have investigated this hell of a coincidence.”

That’s the last thing she says before walking out, leaving Harry in the eerily empty and silent house, with an actual hole in his chest.

Y/N didn’t plan any of this. She did not plan the part where she got so close to Harry that his absence is now almost causing her actual physical pain, and definitely not the part where he betrayed her.

Again.

Or at least that’s where all the evidence is pointing.

She shouldn’t have let him get this close to her, because now she wouldn’t feel this shitty and naive and mostly betrayed.

She still remembers how it felt when she first listened to Night Changes just months after the file that had her version disappeared from her computer. She felt physically ill as she stared at the screen where a photo of the boys was shown but all she could look at was Harry in the picture. Part of her refused to believe that he had anything to do this, but her rational part won. There was no way he was innocent, he was the only person she showed the demo and then it was magically One Direction’s next hit.

She despised Harry for using her in such a disgusting manner, he betrayed him in such an open and arrogant way, the song was getting popular and he must had known that she would hear it as well, but he did nothing. Absolutely nothing.

For a long time she tried to put her disdain to the side and focus on her career, that’s why she agreed to work with him again. And also because there was a tiny sliver of hope somewhere deep down in her that still believed that Harry was innocent.

She let that hope grow and her feelings for Harry as well, only to fall face forward again, ten times harder than before.

Two days go by in a blur. She is back in her home but also tries to spend as little time there as possible, camping at friends’ and her sister’s place whenever she can. She tries to get her mind off of everything with work, but music seems to be betraying her as well, because somehow she always ends up thinking about Harry.

He stopped blowing her phone up a few hours after their fight. She had like a million calls from him and messages filled with him begging for her to pick up the phone, but she ignored them all until they stopped. First thing in the morning she contacted her lawyer and she also gave the new information to the police as well. Harry might have not been the one who broke into her place, but it very much seems like he had something to do with the missing files.

Then it’s radio silence and it kills her nerves. She finds herself often with her phone in her hand, her finger hovering over Harry’s contact, but she always talks herself out of contacting him. She knows she probably can never talk to him, ever.

Another two days later is when her lawyer, Violet finally calls her with news.

“So, good news, they actually know who broke into your house,” Violet announces and Y/N’s pulse jumps immediately.

“Really? Who was it?” she asks and all she can think about is how she hopes the person has nothing to do with Harry, even after everything.

“Do you know a… Daryl Parker?” she asks, as if she’s reading the name off of a paper. Y/N’s eyes go wide.

“What? Daryl? The assistant?”

“Yeah, him.”

“But… how? And why?”

“Sweets, let’s meet at the station, they are expecting you in for some more paperwork and I have other news as well.”

“O-Okay.”

Y/N feels dizzy arriving at the police station, still not quite sure what to think of Daryl breaking into her home and possibly stealing her work. He did try to push her to give him more, but she never thought he would go this far just to get those songs.

Violet is already there when Y/N walks in, waiting with an officer and the three of them move to a meeting room.

“So, Daryl Parker admitted that he broke into your house about a week ago and he was also the one who stole the files you told us about later,” the officer starts to explain the story, while he lays out a stack of paper in front of her that she has to sign. “While he was the one who did the dirty work, he is not the only one to blame.”

“Okay, then who?” she questions.

“Are you familiar with who Daryl’s boss is in the management company?” the officer asks and Y/N shakes her head no. She never actually met the guy, it was always Daryl who kept in contact with her, which at a point seemed weird, but she didn’t think much of it.

“Daryl worked for Blake Finnegan,” Violet reveals and Y/N stares back at her as the puzzle pieces start to fit together slowly.

“The guy who…”

“Yes, Blake from Modest, who worked with One Direction,” she confirms.

Y/N finishes with the signing and pushes back the papers to the officer, thanking his work and he leaves them alone so they can debrief the rest of the story.

“This was the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. Blake was the one who stole your work back then and then made sure you didn’t return for the next album so he wasn’t busted. Daryl wasn’t working for him back then, but he was given so much track record from the past that they were able to recover not just the files they stole now, but the ones from the past and the data shows that it was all originally created by you.”

Y/N’s mouth is going dry as she tries to keep up with Violet and all the information she is hearing.

Blake was the culprit of it all. He stole her work before and he did it again, hidden behind Daryl so she didn’t suspect him.

“Does this mean that Harry…”

“That Harry Styles didn’t steal shit from you?” she laughs. “Yeah. It was an unfortunate coincidence, though he will be questioned because he heard the song before, he should have recognized it.”

“Wait, he will be actually questioned? When?”

“Um,” Violet checks her watch. “He’ll be here in about a few hours.”

The room is spinning with her. Harry is going to come here and be interrogated about this whole ordeal. Now she knows he wasn’t the original bad guy here and that damn hope is back in her chest that he wasn’t involved at all.

“Is there… Is there any chance they will let me talk to him first?” Y/N asks, staring back at Violet’s, watching as her straight expression turns into a smile slowly.

It feels like Harry hasn’t slept in days. He has, of course, but not nearly enough he should have. And he knows exactly when his random insomnia started.

Walking into the police station with his lawyer he is ready to tell them everything and anything. Well, that’s what he’s been doing already, so it’s not a change.

When Y/N stormed out of his place panic set in first, he tried to call her, text her, he was ready to bang on her door to beg her to speak to him, though he is happy he didn’t do the latter. When he realized she was not going to talk to him, he went into solution mode.

He already knew who was to blame, he couldn’t believe that Blake Finnegan was still haunting him even years after cutting all ties with him. He was always the shadiest person around and he had quite a few stunts even back then, so it’s no surprise he went as low as stealing music.

The eerie feeling of being at a police station is strong in his gut, even though he knows he is innocent. They are welcomed by an officer and then led down the hallway towards a meeting room.

“A colleague will be here shortly, Mr. Styles,” he officer says as he opens the door for them. Harry just nods and steps into the room, taking one of the chairs around the small table in the middle. His lawyer is typing on his phone, pacing the floor back and forth as they wait and then the door finally opens again, but instead of seeing an officer walk in, it’s Y/N.

Harry’s stomach drops and he jumps to his feet instantly.

“Y/N, hi!” he breathes out, looking at her frantically as if she was a ghost.

“Hi. Can we talk?” she asks, her eyes landing on the lawyer beside Harry. “Alone.”

“I don’t think it’s–” the man starts to protest, but Harry is quick to stop him.

“Leave us alone,” Harry says. The lawyer seems surprised and for a moment it seems like he will protest, but then he just takes a deep breath and walks out of the room.

Once the door is closed behind him and it’s just the two of them, Y/N hesitantly takes the seat across the one Harry has been occupying.

“Did you… have anything to do with it?” she asks after a rather long pause.

“No,” Harry answers instantly.

“For real?”

“Y/N, I would never steal your work or anyone else’s, really.”

“So then explain to me how this coincidence happened.”

Harry takes a deep breath and leans back in his seat.

“When we were in the band, we were always overworked. One album after the other with tours in between, I was… practically a zombie for most of the time. When Blake showed us the song, it was familiar, but I just never realized why. I’m not proud of it, but I just… never questioned it after. Not even after he said that you decided not to return for the next project.”

Y/N scoffs.

“I had no decision in that. I was just told that I wasn’t needed.”

“I know that now,” Harry breathes out. “But back then, I just let it go. And I’m so sorry for that, I should have recognized the song, I should have asked why you weren’t returning, I should have contacted you, so maybe… I’m not that innocent. I should have done all of these but I didn’t. I’m very sorry for them. But I never teamed up with Blake against you. I hated his gut.” He laughs bitterly. “I always had a bad feeling about him and I wanted off the team the first given moment.”

Y/N can feel her throat closing up as she stares back at Harry, listening to his every word as if it really was an interrogation.

“I never understood why you hated my guts,” he adds with another laugh. “I didn’t understand, because we were so close back then and when we met again you were… so different, but only towards me and you never told me why, not even when I asked you. I wish you told me about this, but I understand why you didn’t want to even… talk to me.”

“I thought you betrayed me,” she whispers, tears dwelling in her eyes. “You were the first person I trusted in the industry and I thought you straight up betrayed me.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I will do anything to get you the rights back on the song and I will pay you every penny you deserve for it.”

“I don’t care about the money,” she shakes her head. “Losing you was way more painful than losing the money I could have made from the song.”

She takes a shaky breath and blinks up at the ceiling, a few tears rolling down her cheeks, but she is quick to wipe them away. Harry’s whole body is itching to stand up and go over to her, to hug her and be physically close to her, but he stays still.

“You know what’s funny?” she laughs through her tears. “I told myself that I accepted this project only for professional reasons, because it’s good for my career. But all along, I had this… hope inside me that I would find out that you had nothing to do with it and you’re still the same guy I fell for years ago.”

Harry’s heart skips a beat, lips parting at her words. She pauses and just keeps staring at Harry and he is just about to break the silence when she speaks up again.

“I’m glad that hope turned out to be right.”

They start moving at the same time. The chairs screech as they are pushed back and they meet by the side of the table in a kiss that holds everything they never said but felt. It’s the kiss they should have shared years ago, it’s the kiss they should have shared when anger brought them together this time and it’s the kiss that resets everything in between.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he mumbles against her lips.

“I’m sorry too,” she whines, hands gripping his shirt for dear life.

“Let’s just stop being sorry, okay?” he chuckles, making her laugh as well as their kisses slow down. He rests his forehead against hers, arms curled around her frame tightly. “I missed you.”

“It’s been only like… four days,” she jokes, though she feels the same.

“Not just now. I missed you after you disappeared from my life before.”

Biting her bottom lip she leans back just enough so that she can look into his eyes.

“Let’s leave our old grudges in the past. I want to move forward.”

Harry smiles at her warmly.

“I would love that.”

NEW:

Harry Styles and Y/N Y/L/N spotted on an afternoon stroll in London - Fans can’t wait for the singer’s new album he worked on with his rumored girlfriend

YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE:

Meet Y/N Y/L/N, the talented music producer who did not only capture the industry but also Harry Styles’ heart as well

One Direction’s Night Changes hits the charts again after Y/N Y/L/N legally becomes owner of rights over the song a decade after its release

Investigation about Blake Finnegan continues - even more proof was revealed of all the shady business the former manager did

Female producers speak up about the struggles they face in the industry just days after Blake Finnegan was arrested

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb

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milksnake-tea · 8 hours

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❀ ˎˊ- prompt: you've never told sunday you loved him, but you never had to. ❀ ˎˊ- sunday x gn!reader ❀ ˎˊ- wc: 787 ❀ ˎˊ- warnings: vague spoilers for 2.2, mild angst (sunday hates himself lmao) ❀ ˎˊ- a/n: i remembered some random hc that halovians are sensitive to emotions and i woke up in a cold sweat idk if its canon but i like it. anyways happy sunday guys <3 ❀ ˎˊ- img credits

Halovians are the prized jewels of the universe, beloved and admired by many for their elegance, beauty, and elusiveness. But as Sunday’s come to learn, being one of the revered beings isn’t what it’s made out to be.

His halo tingles, little buzzes of electricity shooting across the metal ring and flowing directly into his brain. Sunday flinches at the feeling, although it's hardly noticeable - just a little jump of the shoulders, surprise flashing over his face for a millisecond.

Then comes heat - scorching, smoldering heat that floods over him, embracing and smothering him in its intensity. Instinctively his wings move to cool him down, but the heat is all in his head - physically, he’s fine. But it’s the implication, the knowledge of just what this feeling is that sets his face ablaze.

Ever since he was but a young child, he’d discovered quickly that he could sense the emotions of those around him as if they were his own. Humans were always wearing false faces, putting up a front, but he could always see beyond the mask.

But it was overwhelming - to put it mildly - to be under this constant onslaught of clashing emotions, so eventually, he learned to tune them out, to ignore the waves that his halo received.

And yet, despite all of those years spent learning to block out the emotions of others, here he is, fighting with all his strength to not melt down into a flustered puddle as he walks by your side.

There’s no one else in the Dewlight Pavilion’s garden, so he has no doubt about it - it’s you who’s sending these… feelings his way, and that realization does little to help with his predicament - he’d even say it makes it worse. But Sunday wouldn’t be where he is if he wasn’t able to keep a straight face despite it all.

But he does wonder, how are you doing it? See, Sunday has the excuse of being trained and raised for his role in politics. But you? How could you act so casual, so unbothered, and treat him like any other despite how strongly you… love him?

It breaks a part of his mind just to admit it, but he doesn’t know what else to call it. The warmth that emits from you is the same as that that radiates off of the newly wed couples that come to Penacony for their honeymoon, except you don’t know whether or not your love is reciprocated, nor have you ever considered to ask.

A part of him wishes that you would.

“Sunday?”

He blinks back to reality. You’re smiling up at him, and the pure adoration that exudes from you has his knees weak and his heart jumping. He feels like he’s choking, his breath is caught in his throat and there’s a heavy weight on his chest - but he only smiles reassuringly at you.

“Yes?” he asks softly, taking great care to keep his voice even.

“Are you alright? You seem a little…” You trail off, not sure how to word it. “…off.”

The corner of Sunday’s lip twitches. “Off is… certainly a way to say it.”

Your brows crease further in worry, and he can’t help but laugh good-naturedly.

“Please, don’t worry yourself.” He waves his hand dismissively. “I am fine, but I’m grateful for your concern.”

“Are you sure?” you insist. Sunday smiles warmly.

He feels how much you care for him, how much you wish for him to be happy, to have the most wonderful things. But he can't help but wonder - why? Why him? The parts of you that you devote to him, someone such as himself does not deserve. Not when in his ideal dream, he is destined for a life alone in the sky.

You deserve to love someone else, someone who can properly appreciate what you give him.

Absent-mindedly, his gloved hand comes to brush a knuckle against your cheek. A pleased hum rumbles in his chest as he feels your skin warm and your heart skip a beat.

"Of course," he murmurs. "In fact, I'd say I've never been better."

“If you say so.” You don’t look convinced, but you don’t argue, instead opting to subtly lean into his hand.

Sunday’s eyes soften. Guilt gnaws at him for his indulgence. He should stop, pull away. Leading you on like this wasn’t right. He needed to wake up, and stop playing pretend. The Charmony Festival was almost here - he couldn’t afford to give himself false hope.

And yet, he lingers there, bathing in your affection for a little longer.

If this is his sweet dream, he doesn’t want to wake up just yet.

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

tags: @sh0jun, @themoderatelyawesomeninja, @xphantasmagoriax, @rainswept, @lucensei,

@akutasoda, @naraven, @scribs-dibs, @apathicace

#—stellaronhvnters.#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr sunday #sunday hsr #hsr sunday x reader #sunday hsr x reader #sunday x reader #sunday #honkai star rail sunday #sunday honkai star rail #reader insert #x reader #y/n #archives 🏵️

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georgiapeach30513 · 13 hours

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With Your Touch, Part 5

Summary: Some things just weren’t meant to be ignored.

Pairings: Lloyd Hansen X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings: Language, voyeurism, masturbation (M&F), pillow grinding, The Verb, non con moment, implied fighting, tension, mentions of childhood trauma, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5.4K

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

You were getting to Lloyd. He should have noticed it sooner, but he was too worried about his daughter, and then it was you that was occupying his thoughts. The forbidden fruit. Lloyd loves the succulent taste of something he’s not supposed to have, therefore you became an obsession. An obsession that he began to care about. An obsession he desired more than anything.

You entwined your kind and damaged self into his very being, and he needs to keep you for himself. Protect you from the world that so desperately wants to destroy women like you. Women who have it all, and are still overlooked. You were even going right down the path that they all did. A prick of a boyfriend that you didn’t love, didn’t want, but you just made it work because he ticks off imaginary boxes.

You were too pure for the men in your world. They’d have you beaten into submission, and be their perfect little housewife, while you became a woman like your mother. Did whatever your husband said because he paid the bills. You would make exceptions to your happiness because he gave you a life of luxury. He could go off and spend all his time with whores and secretaries while you sat at home becoming bitter.

He hated The Verb with every part of him, your dad was just barely below The Verb. The only reason he tolerates your father now is because he’s the reason you were searching for the love of a man. And because of your mother you accept subpar men like The Verb, and make excuses of it being love. It wasn’t.

Love is the way you lift Lyla up in the air above your head, while she giggles down at you. Love is pulling her closer to your face so you can kiss all over her cheeks. Love is sitting on a blanket in the park with the stupid expensive pram so Lyla can get outside. Love is enjoying the time that you get to have with her. Love is the confusing feelings you feel for him.

Because no matter what you say, he sees the feelings you have for him. You even got off with his name on your lips, and it was beautiful. He wants to hear it again. Hear it whisper across his skin, while your walls both literally and figuratively crash down. Becoming so soft after you orgasm over his cock that you are pliant, and just need him to hold you. His obsession runs deep, but at least it is pure intentions.

“Was watching her through your phone not enough?” Ari asks, as he sits down on the bench beside his friend. He looks in Lloyd’s direction as you lay Lyla on the ground, praising her when she flips over and gets into a crawling position. “I didn’t take you as a sap.”

“Me neither,” Lloyd barely responds, but smiles right along with you. “Why are you here?”

“Why are you?” Ari looks more at his friend before he looks back at the two of you. “She’s a natural,” every time that he has seen you with Lyla you didn’t look like her au pair at all, you looked like her mother. Even now, she seems like your baby.

“Yeah, she’s raising her daughter the way she wanted to be raised,” Ari opens his mouth, but closes it immediately. His eyes drift around the park, trying to make sense of whatever is going through his partner's head. “I didn’t want this. Either of them. I was supposed to continue to slut around with whoever I wanted, and go to work. That was my life. So you tell me why either of them came into my life, and I’m not supposed to do anything about it?”

“You should know that life gives us curveballs, and we have to figure it out along the way. Like Lyla. You brought Roman’s daughter into your life. And now you’ve got another problem.”

“A fucking hair in my eyeball that is festering and is named after a damn verb. That boy,” Lloyd releases a growl low in the pit of his stomach as he thinks about the vile things that boy said to you. And that is just what he has heard. He’s sure that Chase has said messed up psycho babble to you, that you never asked for. The way he looked down at you, and was already putting you in your place makes him sick. “Fuck.”

“Is that what you’re wanting to do with your sweet little au pair? Fuck her?”

“Yes. Dream about it every night while I fuck my fist,” Ari rolls his eyes, pretending he didn’t hear any of that. Last thing he wanted to think about was Lloyd fucking someone’s daughter. “But it’s more than that.”

“You want her to take care of your daughter.”

“I want to protect them both. And I enjoy the moments that don’t have this intense sexual tension. I enjoy her. And what she wants, and I just get her,” he did. Chase doesn’t know what he has, but Lloyd does. You would see. “I’m tired of this conversation. They’re both mine. And I don’t share.”

“You’re talking about a woman that actually isn’t yours.”

“She will be, Ari. I can promise you that. Let’s go. I’ve gotta get home early,” he gives the two of you a final look. Wishing he could linger, and watch you all day. See how patient you are with Lyla even if she cries. See how you adored her so much you couldn’t stop kissing her, and smiling at her. He is tired of avoiding you. And he isn’t going to avoid you anymore. Sexual tension be damned.

“And you go in your seat,” Lyla pulls her feet up in a silent protest to not sit in her high chair. She’d been doing this all day. “You are so needy for attention today, but you need to sit in your chair,” furrowing her brows, she looks at you with her bottom lip puckered out. “No, don’t give me that face.”

Opening her mouth to babble incoherent words in a sassy tone. “Are you really going to sass me after I made dinner, and made you your special food,” she keeps her legs tightly pulled up, and you look at your plate and her plate both getting cold. Maybe you were giving in to her too much, but she is a baby.

“Okay, okay. You’ll just sit in my lap, and we’ll wait for daddy. Say dada,” she giggles, shaking her head no. Her chubby little fingers reach for something to gnaw on for a moment, and you sneak a bite of your own. “Your daddy is scared of me. Yes, he is.”

Since that night, Lloyd had avoided you. Claiming he was working late, but you knew better. He checked in less, too. Having cameras gave him the ability to not check in, you suppose. Before he didn’t care. He’d call or send a text, now he does nothing. You figured he just didn’t want to see your face. “I think things got too heavy with us. He’s a bit strong, you know. But he’s pretty cute,” you giggle, making sure to kiss her cheek again.

“He’s very cute. And he has these arms, and his legs, and his lips. I think I like his hands the most. They’re so thick — and soft,” you close your eyes a moment, drifting off into a fantasy of being draped over his legs. “But it’s a bit too complicated,” sighing because you know that you’re not going to go that route. It was too complicated already. It was best if the two of you just kept going the pace you were going.

“But you know you’re daddy’s cute.”

“I am?” Your smile fades as the very man you were talking about waltzes into the dining area with a cocky grin. Lyla’s legs kick around, and she makes the sweetest grabby hands towards him. “Can daddy make him a plate? He sure is hungry,” her giggles turn into shrill screams, and her legs and arm flail. “Lyla Bee! You quit that, girlie.”

“I’ll make you a plate, Lloyd. Here, take Lyla biddy boo Bee,” the sound of your silly voice to her as you walk to her daddy who is already sitting at the table makes her squeal laugh. Her eyes closing with how much she’s smiling, and when he pulls her from your arms, she buries into his warmth. “She’s been a bit needy for attention lately, but tell daddy, it’s okay, huh?”

Leaning over, you grin, rubbing your nose on her, but Lloyd is encapsulated by the scent of your hair. Rolling his eyes in the back of his head at how sweet and sinful this moment all is. It’s almost normal. Almost the family that neither of you had. “Now, you behave,” you whisper.

As you stand up straight, you catch Lloyd wafting your scent with his softly closed, and it makes you smile to yourself. “I’ll be back, sweetheart.”

“Okay,” he didn’t even realize what you had said. Him being silly with a crush makes you happy.

“I was talking to the baby,” you remind him. A brief moment flashes between the two of you, and you want to stay. Want to will his hand to reach out and grab your own. You see the flinches of his fingers like he wants to, and then you snap out of it. This shouldn’t happen. He is your employer and things will get difficult, and you didn’t want them to. Lyla needs you.

Going into the kitchen, you plate up his dinner while you think. What the fuck are you doing? This is getting too intense, but the feeling of being so close to both of them made you warm and tingly in a different way than being alone with him. Plus you had to deal with your asshole of a boyfriend.

You knew Chase was no good, but what other choice did you have? Even though you didn’t see him daily, being with him made you stay away from Lloyd, and just fantasize about him. How much damn porn have you watched about the babysitter and the dad. Fuck, how many dreams did you have of Lloyd telling you that you would take his cock.

Why did you have to make this difficult? Why could you just forget about Lloyd and his fucking arms? And the need to see what he looked like with no shirt on. You bet he sleeps in boxers. Maybe completely nude. Shaking your head you back into the dining area and freeze. Why is him being with his little tiny daughter hotter?

Holding up one of her hands he slowly counts each of her fingers, moving onto the next one until getting to ten. Lloyd then reaches for a foot, pulling the socks off and she screams in laughter, “Oh, honey, are your toes ticklish?”

“You should see her when you have to clean in between them.”

“I bet you kick and giggle the whole time, huh? Do you not want to sit in your chair?”

“No, her doesn’t,” picking up her spoon, you give her a little bite of her food. Making sure that you remain close enough for Lloyd to smell you again. You did smell nice today. “Her gets all stressed out when you mess with her toes, huh, sweet girl.”

The touch is so quick, but you feel his hand on your thigh. You don’t even react, but he flinches away the second his finger touches your leg. You wish he’d keep going higher. Higher. Higher. Until he breaches your drenched hole. That’s how he made you. Soaked.

“You didn’t work late today,” you note, walking back to your chair. You take another bite while you smile at him. “How is it going?”

His Adam’s apple bobs, swallowing nothing while he nods his head, “It’s fine. Perfect. You haven’t requested any days off?”

“There’s really nowhere for me to go. I’ll go eat at the bar, and you and Lyla can bond before bedtime,” sitting at dinner with him and Lyla seems a bit too familial, and it suffocates you. You like it too much, and you need to step away.

“No,” Lloyd answers firmly. This time his swallow was of food. “No, I think you need some company. You’re around a baby that can’t talk all day. Unless you’re needing to make a phone call of course,” he had read being a stay at home mom was difficult, and to always engage in conversation when you came home. That way she didn’t get overwhelmed and feel isolated.

“I don’t,” and you didn’t want to leave him anyways. You just felt he wanted you away for whatever reason. The two of you settle in a comforting silence. Like Lloyd needed time to ground himself after whatever he did at work today. That the conversation flowing between the two of you was just as much for him as you. He seems to be seeking something more comfortable and sweet.

Stolen glances happen throughout the meal, but you’ll blame it on wanting to watch him be sweet with his daughter. While that is a bonus, the reality is you just want to look at him. Trying to keep it PG and not envision him hovering over your body with sweat glistening around his hair. Smiling as you go into a beautiful state of euphoria, and he tells you that you have to give him just one more time as tears drift down your face.

Fuck. You’re as big of a mess as your panties, and all you want is to curl into him, and let him take you down from a high of the most beautiful highs. God, you want to feel his arms wrap around you so bad. Looks like another night with your toys.

You aren’t sure why, but there is definitely a shift in the air tonight between you and Lloyd. And you sure are a glutton for punishment as you walk down to his room, but you want to just talk. You and him. There is one hundred percent no ulterior motive as you take each calculated step down the hall in your kinda sexy sleeper set. Maybe your ass is hanging out of the booty shorts, but who cares.

Tiptoeing down to his room, you lift your hand to knock, and then you hear a sound that almost knocks you to your knees. Your name. But not just your name, panting. Deep breaths. He is talking to an imaginary version of yourself. Not just talking, he was fucking the imaginary you, and you are right here!

He’s a vocal lover, and it causes you to drip. Weak from the way he was imagining fucking you. You knew there was a shift, but you couldn’t fathom Lloyd whimpering your name. Not Dolly, but your name. You couldn’t have prepared yourself to hear his grunts, and his coaching you through orgasms. You want to really orgasm. You don’t want that fake you to have all the fun. You’re throbbing all over, and ready to just break down the door, and jump on his cock.

This isn’t fair! It’s cruel torture. You find yourself nearly humping the air, and ready to beg for Lloyd to fuck you like that. Why can’t you have him? Oh, that’s right, a dumbass boyfriend. Breakup. No. Breaking up entails too many temptations now that you have heard — you stop walking, listening so intently as he squeaks out your name.

“Oh fuuuuck,” he sounds delicious as he comes undone. You want him to come in you. No. On you. No. What did you want? Him. His dick. His baby. More of his babies. Fuck. You’re fucked. This was fucked up. You haven’t kissed him and you want his babies? This was only a weird kink because you see how he fathers, and your mind and your desire to have a family is altering your usual steady mind.

Now you need to angrily get off. Fuck him. If he wants to fuck an imaginary you, you’ll fuck an imaginary him. It is only fair. You stomp back to your room. Yanking off your stupid sleep set. You’re quaking. Slamming a pillow down on the bed, you straddle it. It isn’t your finest hour, but you grind over the satin. Tweaking your nipples, and imagine his hands on your hips, guiding you to go faster, and you do. You just need to get off. You don’t want sweet, you want angry.

Fucking the frustration and confusion right onto the pillow so hard you actually feel him. His hands coast down your sides, and tighten on your hips. His mouth caresses the sensitive column of your neck, giving it a tiny little nibble, “I knew you’d be frustrated. Show me how angry you are.”

With your chest heaving as you bare down harder. You want to make Lloyd proud at how good you can ride his dick. “There’s a good girl. Let it all out,” his hands come around you as he fondles your chest. God he feels good.

“Lloyd, I’m coming.”

“Lloyd?” The grip on your tits turn harsh, and you stop moving, looking over your shoulder. Fuck. “You want to tell me why my whore of a girlfriend is fucking the boss? I knew it, you goddamn slut. He’s just using you to fulfill the babysitter fantasy.”

“W-w-why are you in here?” You can’t think properly as Chase’s cold blue eyes stare into you with so much anger. Hatred. You’ve never seen him look at you like this, but you have felt his wrath. You grab onto his hands, trying to pry them off your chest with no luck.

“I was going to make sweet love to my girlfriend, and I saw you naked and fucking a damn pillow, and wanted to have fun. This whole fucking time you were pretending it was Lloyd?” You shake your head aggressively trying to push his hands off you. He is too loud. “You want something to fuck, I’ll give you something.”

“No, Chase, don’t. He’ll hear. Stop, please, don’t,” your voice whispers through your tears as he pushes you forward. All the way down until your face is squished up against the blanket. Running his fingers through your folds. “Chase, don’t he’ll kill you. Please, stop.”

“This is how wet you get? You’re a fucking slut for the boss, huh?” You feel his blunt head at your entrance, and you clench your eyes closed. You could scream, and Lloyd will hear you, but so could Lyla. Chase would surely be killed. Or you can just sit like this, and take it until he is finished.

“Now, be a slut for me. It’s all I ask,” you gulp as he pushes through your walls. Fist clinging to the bed. “There’s a good girl. Since you’re dreaming about him, call me daddy.”

“No,” sick fuck. You didn’t want him on you. You didn’t want him touching you. You didn’t want to give that name to him. You aren’t even sure how you feel about that naturally coming out with Lloyd.

“Go on, you slut, call me your daddy. Tell daddy to fuck you like the bad girl you are. Let me ruin this little cunt.”

“No!” You didn’t care. He just drives harder into you. “No! Get off!” You hate him. It’s over. You didn’t care what Lloyd did to him or his body. He is the asshole. “Stop!” You can’t even pretend that he’s Lloyd. It’s all wrong. So very wrong. Lloyd would be hard, but tender. Demanding, but giving. This is just wrong. Shutting down everything that is happening in the present. Get out of reality, and go into your fake world where everything is perfect. Don’t let Chase have this.

And then he’s all pulled out of you. “She said stop, you fucking piece of shit!” Your mind shifts into an altered state as you try to take yourself out of this situation. Memories of someone else in your house. Your mom, screaming. The sound of fists hitting bone, and the sickening sound of blood. Your dad, screaming to get back in your room.

So many memories of your dad you blacked out, and that’s where you wanted them. Buried deep in the depths of your brain, and to never be seen or thought of again. They are cruel men with a deadly job. They protect their own, but invite evil into their homes. Close your eyes, and pretend that nothing is happening. Because nothing is happening.

Sing so you can ignore whatever is happening behind you. Remember your day with Lyla and how pure it was. How she smiled up at you like you had hung the moon. Lyla couldn’t remember the neglect her mom issued her, and you would make sure she didn’t know what being without a mother’s love was like. Lyla is what keeps you sane while hell is trying to suck you back to reality.

“Hey, sweetheart. Shh,” he covers your back with a blanket, but you keep your eyes closed. “Can I carry you out of here?” You nod your head quickly, and feel his thick arms pick you up bridal style. Keeping your body close to his warmth as he carries you out of your room, and you finally open your eyes.

You see the marred knuckles clinging to your body, and deadpan, “You need to wash your hands.”

“I need to make sure you’re not hurt. Did he hurt you?” Even though he’s trying to be soft, you see the edge of darkness cover his eyes. You don’t know if he killed Chase or he was badly misshapen. You didn’t care. You couldn’t care anymore.

“No, he didn’t.”

“What happened?” There are two options here; lie through your teeth and tell him a bent story or tell him the absolute truth.

“He saw me, and I was…I was — and I said your name, while he was behind me, and I didn’t know. And then…then…th-th-then he wanted me to call him — to call him daddy,” you hiccup as he carries you into the living room, and sits you on the couch softly.

You sniffle, trying to calm your sobs as you look at his hands again. They are hideous. They’ll be badly bruised and swollen come tomorrow, “Your hands. Go wash them.”

“No.”

“I don’t…I don’t like the look of blood,” he gives you a nod, and stands up to wash his hands. He wears boxers in his sleep. You wish you were in a place you could enjoy the sight of him in just boxers, but you’re just numb. So numb that even Lloyd almost naked does nothing for you.

“Ari, I need a clean up, and a new apartment,” what an odd thing to say. “I don’t want it in this building at all. Don’t ask questions. This is immediate,” walking back into the living room, he stares at you. You’re in a state of shock, and your eyes are glassed over into nothing.

“Can I get you some clothes?” What? You look down your body, and pull your blanket tighter around you, then nod your head, and he’s gone again. It all went wrong because you wanted to hear the night life. How could you be so stupid to think you could just live your life carelessly, and Chase wasn’t going to ruin it.

Returning, Lloyd sits on the table in front of you, and starts to dress you. There’s nothing demanding or harsh about his movements. It’s caring. Loving. Nurturing. Instead of trying to black everything out, you watch him. You’re completely nude in front of him but he’s not fucking you with his eyes. He’s making sure you’re alright. Tenderly pulling over your top, and then sliding up some shorts on your legs.

“I’m sorry,” your voice is so meek, and you hate it.

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“This isn’t your job.”

“The hell it isn’t. This isn’t your job. My job is to protect you, and I failed. How long had he been here?” You shrug, because you aren’t sure when the lines of your imagination and reality blurred. Didn’t know when Lloyd’s hands morphed into Chase’s. “I’m going to get us another apartment. You’re also going to have a security detail, and this isn’t for discussion.”

You just nod your head, not in the mood for arguing. You’re just cold. And then a cry. “Lyla,” you jump up without hesitation, practically sprinting to her room, and she sits up in the bed, crying and pouting for you. “Hey, baby. Did you miss me or do you need a diaper change? You’ve been sleeping through the night almost every night. C’mere.”

She isn’t wet, so you just hold her tight to your chest, and her cries start to soften. “You need someone to hold you, too, huh? Shh, I’m right here, baby,” you rock her in your arms, and turn to see Lloyd standing in the doorway.

He’s like a dream, nearly naked and shadowed in her doorway. It hurts to look at him sometimes. Always being something you shouldn’t desire. “She just wanted to be held.”

“You said, too,” he’s being odd this evening. You don’t understand what he means until he walks right up to you, lifting you up again. Carrying you and Lyla over to her rocker, he sits down, wrapping his arms around you tighter. “If you want to be held just ask.”

“Okay,” he holds you like you’ve never been held before. How can something feel so secure and soft at the same time? He is adding just the right amount of pressure on your body, and you start to relax in his arms, and Lyla is right with you. Yawning so big as her eyes get heavier. “Am I stupid?”

“No.”

“Do you know what I was doing when he came into my room?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I was — you know on a pillow, and I said your name, and it pissed him off,” you don’t have to see Lloyd’s face to know he’s smiling. Of course he would smile when it came to you ultimately choosing Lloyd over Chase, “I heard you tonight,” he hums, but still doesn’t say anything. “In your fantasy how was I positioned?”

“On your back. Your legs wrapped tight against me, a pillow under your lower back to get this amazing angle, and you're pulling me so deep into your warmth, and I can’t get enough of watching you come over my cock,” it’s your turn to hum as you look down at the baby. She is so cozy, but asleep, and giving you nothing but her sweet face to distract you. This is far from an appropriate conversation with her present.

“How deep are you?”

Lloyd takes a deep breath. Kissing on top of your head, “Sweetheart, I’m so deep that you can fill me in your throat.”

“How do I know you’re not lying?” Silence falls over the room, and it becomes too apparent what is going on in your room. You heard Lloyd call someone, and they are doing what he asked, cleaning up whatever mess was made. You lift up off his shoulder, and stare at him. “How do I know you’re not lying?”

“I don’t think this is the right time now.”

“Are you scared?”

“I’m terrified,” you gulp, averting your eyes back down to the baby. How could a man like Lloyd be terrified? And why? “And she’s only part of the reason I’m scared.”

“So where do we go from here?”

“I said I didn’t think this is the right time for me to show you I’m not lying, considering the things that have transpired this evening. But whenever you’re ready for me to show you exactly how deep I can go inside your body, but also — inside your heart, I’ll only be a few doors away. But I don’t want to just fuck you like an animal. I want to hold you and…my daughter at night, just like this. You need to be held just as much as she does, so let me. But for tonight, instead of showing you just how right you would fit me inside you, let me tear down the walls you’ve built up, and show you there are good men out there. Men that stand on the things that they say. Let me just hold you, so you can finally relax for the first time in years because you don’t have to worry about that prick ever coming into your life and hurting you ever again.”

Your vision becomes blurry as tears fill your eyes, and you let them fall down your cheeks one by one. It’s freeing to know that Chase can’t ever try and pick apart your brain and memories that you have no desire to explore. Lloyd isn’t just taking your walls down, he’s obliterating them. You didn’t even realize the amount of walls you put up for your own self preservation. “I hate them.”

“Me, too. I hate anyone that has ever hurt you or made you feel you aren’t worth it. Because you are.”

“You don’t know me.”

”I know more about you than you could ever understand,” the cameras. All those times you felt like you were being watched. It all makes sense. “Yes, there’s some in your room. And yes, you knew and pointed yourself right at them.”

“Did not.”

“Want to see the footage?” You snort, shaking your head no. At least you didn’t have to end the night on something as severe as whatever Lloyd did to Chase. “Little minx. I’ve got videos, too. Yeah, I thought maybe it was a coincidence, until you flashed the camera and smiled. You’re smarter than people give you credit for.”

“I was just taking a guess,” Lloyd does not believe a word you say. “I did. It was just a guess. Why did you have cameras in my bedroom? Are they in my bathroom, too?”

“No, I don’t get off on that.”

“You just get off on me in my room?”

Lloyd rolls his eyes with a smile. Is that what you think this is? He’s trying to figure out how to say it without being too forward, and there isn’t another way, “Were you just in your room when you had your legs spread pointing to the camera, shoving your fingers in that tight little cunt, and whimpering my name? Were you just in your room when you’d prance out of the bathroom completely naked, and do a little shimmy right in the camera? Were you just in your room every time that you were fucking that pillow and saying Daddy fuck me harder.”

Oh my god. “Should I go on?”

“No! There is a baby in my arms.”

“Fine, admit you want me to fuck you, and you want to call me daddy,” you didn’t have to admit shit. You do like when his cocky little self comes out though. “Go on, say it.”

He wants you to say it? Then he’s getting the full on works, “I want you to fuck me so deep and hard, daddy. I want you to come in my pretty little pussy, and then I want you to fuck it deeper with your fingers,” Lloyd bites on his lip, and looks up at the ceiling. Good. He wants to try and torture you, he’s getting it right back. “But not tonight.”

“No, not tonight. You’ve been through enough,” you really have. And you just want to feel the warmth coming off his body. “I want you to pick out which room is Lyla’s in the new apartment. She…” it’s too soon. Lloyd can’t ask much more of you. You’re vulnerable at the moment, and he’s taken advantage enough, “She already looks at you like her mom,” fuck fuck fuck.

“Is it weird to say I look at her like mine, too?” He sighs, and shakes his head no. He hopes you really let this conversation sink in before you come crawling into his bed. Because he will fuck you, and he will only hold back if you ask him. If your body shows him, he’ll stop. He wants you more than anything he has ever wanted before and it terrifies him. Because now he has two things he’s willing to kill for, but worse, willing to die for.

Terrifying.

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958

@seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings

@kmc1989 @pandaxnienke @theinheriteddutchess @rainydayandmondays @buckybarnesisdaddy

@patzammit @xoxo-ls @rebeccapineapple @slutforchrisjamalevans @marvel-wifey-86

@jesevans @ughdontbeboring @infantasywonderland @vampy-doll @i-like-to-read-13

@missacidburn928 @charmed-asylum @superflannel @hisredheadedgoddess28 @lostinspace33

@abbyyourlocalmilf @saranghaey @rogersbarber

#with your touch #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x fem!reader #lloyd hansen x female reader #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen fic #lloyd hansen fics #lloyd hansen fanfic #lloyd hansen fanfiction #au pair au #TW #chris evans #chris evans character

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luvlystarr · 7 hours

Note

Could you please do a part 2 to Simon -grumpy x sunshine

Thanks so much 💕💕

.・。.・゜❃・.・❃・゜・。.

Part 1

Of course I can do a part 2! I’m really grateful that so many people enjoyed my last post! 🤍

Here’s part 2 of Ghost x Reader - Grumpy x Sunshine.

Content: Pure fluff

.・。.・゜・゜

Ghost still hates you, well, not as much.

You and the Task Force 141 were sent on another mission. Unfortunately, things didn't go as planned.

Because of an unexpected ambush, you and Ghost got separated from the rest of the team.

It seemed like the universe wasn't on your side today. Both of your radios weren't functioning even though they were perfectly fine. You tried to call for Price, Soap and Gaz but all you got was static.

On top of all of that one of the enemies managed to cut your arm with a knife.

All of which lead to your current situation. The two of you are stuck in an abandoned warehouse with broken radios while Ghost patched you up.

You were sitting on a chair while you kicked your legs back and forth, patiently waiting for Ghost to finish.

"Quit moving," he said as he glared at you. You followed his orders and stopped. He's already pissed off and you don't want to make it any worse.

"Why can't we just go out there and find them? Who knows how long we're gonna be stuck here," you huffed.

"We're waiting for Price's orders. It's dangerous to go out there blindly."

He was right, there were probably enemies lurking outside and who could easily outnumber both of you. But at the same time you can't stand being in the warehouse anymore. You wanted to get the job done and go home.

Ghost finally finished wrapping the bandage around your wound. "There, how's your arm now?" He asked.

You move your arm around slightly. "Not bad, still aches but it'll do," you shrug. "Thanks, Si."

"Should've been more careful and I told you not to call me that," Ghost sighed.

"C'mon, lighten up a bit! Let's have some fun at least." Just then an idea popped into your mind.

"How about this, where do Generals keep their armies? In their sleevies!" You laugh uncontrollably at your own joke.

Ghost hated to admit it but your joke was a little funny, even your cute laugh got to him.

He managed to hide his chuckle but that didn't go unnoticed by you.

You stared him with a shocked look on your face. At first you thought your mind playing tricks until you see his eyes squinting a little.

"Did you just laugh?! Was that a laugh?!" You exclaimed.

Luckily, his mask was able to hide the dumb smile he had on his face. "Don't know what you're talking about, that joke was stupid."

"You did laugh! I can tell you're smiling, Si!" You grinned.

He shook his head before finally caving in and letting himself laugh. His cheeks began to hurt just from how hard he was smiling.

He gently pulled your head to his chest before wrapping his arms around you. You could feel his laugh vibrating through his chest. Now you were a hundred percent sure that you weren't seeing things.

"Shut up, you're losing your mind cause of the blood loss, love," he chuckled.

Maybe he doesn’t hate your laugh as much as he thought he did.

He wouldn’t admit it out loud but he does love you with all his heart.

・゜・。. .・。.・゜・゜・。.

#cod #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #ghost x you #ghost x reader #simon riley fluff #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost cod

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spencerreiddddd · 1 day

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No second chances • 3

Spencer watched from his desk as little Owen laughed loudly as Morgan and Garcia played around with him. Morgan threw him up into the air as Owen screamed and burst into a fit of giggles. Garcia shoving more than enough candy into Owen’s little hand.

He then turned his attention to you and James as Emily spoke to you both. Spencer watched as you tapped your foot on the floor, he knew you did that when you were nervous. He used to hold your hand when that happened to ground you and bring you back into reality. However he saw James look down at you, James grabbed your hand and started massaging it pulling your fingers and running circles on your palm. Spencer felt like gagging at the way your foot stopped tapping and a small grateful smile spread across you beautiful plump lips as you looked up at James.

“You’re gonna break that pen pretty boy.” Derek said behind Spencer, snapping Spencer out of his trance. Spencer turned his head to look up at Derek who now sat on top of his desk looking down at him. “Look pretty boy, you got to let it go.” Derek sighed keeping his voice hushed.

Spencer fidgeted with his fingers before looking back up at Derek. “I regret what I did every day Morgan… God everyday I wake up without her is punishment.” Spencer says feeling his throat sting.

Morgan sighs. “Spencer if you really love her the way you say you do…let her go. Don’t punish her all over again.” Morgan says turning to look at you and James as you hold a sleeping Owen in your hands as you yourself are asleep on James shoulder as he rubs circles on your arm.

“She’s happy, I know it hard but she deserves this. James is a great guy, be happy for her.” Morgan says getting up and and patting Spencer’s shoulder as he walked away.

Leaving Spencer meditating about what he had just told him.

Spencer walked to the break room to make himself a coffee, trying to find the apprentice that was after y’all was getting a little difficult.

He tensed when he saw James making himself a coffee. Spencer kept walking keeping his eyes away from James, feeling a bit uncomfortable that it was just them two alone. “Spencer right?” James said his voice deep the sound of an exhausted man. Spencer grabbed a cup. “Yeah, James?” Spencer said acting as if he didn’t know the name of the man who had what he wanted. “Yeah… the reason my family is in this situation.” James sighed swirling his coffee in his cup. “I’m sure Y/N doesn’t blame you.” Spencer said dryly turning on the coffee machine.

“She doesn’t, she’s so…” James said smiling slightly

“Amazing.” Spencer said before he could stop himself. James looked up at Spencer. “She’s more than that, why’d you think I married her.” James said laughing slightly dark tired circles under his eyes.

Spencer felt a tinge of guilt hit him as he felt his chest tighten. “You’re a lucky man.” Spencer said a little annoyed. He knew James didn’t know about you and him, but right now he was doubting it…did James know?

“Look, I don’t know what they’re used to be between you and Y/N but clearly there isn’t anything there anymore, on her part.” James said his face becoming Stoney and cold toward Spencer.

“Who are you to talk for her?” Spencer said he himself turning cold. Spencer knew he was wrong but his ego felt hurt and he didn’t want to seem small compared to James.

James smiled mockingly “Her husband if you forgot. The man she chose to marry, to carry my last name, and create a family with.” James said smile still on his face as he got closer to Spencer practically whispering in his ear.

“Y/N’s her own person…she makes her own decisions, and yet she didn’t choose you. Hell she didn’t even give you a second chance.” James chuckled in Spencer’s ear.

Spencer hadn’t felt a rage so strong before in his life, Spencer fisted his hands tightly anger in his eyes. James walked towards the door, opening it he turned back to look at Spencer. “Don’t get near my wife again.” Was all James said before walking out. Leaving Spencer in a state of fury. Spencer threw his coffee in the sink, he felt his body hot he felt like the veins on his forehead were going to pop at any second.

Worst of all he knew James was right, everyone was right.

You felt two arms wrap around you as you stand over Hotch’s couch that he let you use to put Owen asleep for the night as they went to go track the apprentice.

You recognized the arms around you and smiled. “James.” You giggled softly as he pressed a kiss on your neck. “Mmm” was all he said as he buried his head into your neck.

“Hotch’s blinds are open, Morgan and Spencer will see us.” You said smiling at his demeanor.

“Does it look like I care? You’re my wife I can love on you all I want.” James said spinning you around to face him as you wrap your arms around his neck, laughing as you look up at him.

“What do you say that once all this is over, we add a new member to our family?” James says leaning down to plant a kiss on your lips.

“Owen is 3 years old already…” you whisper as you look up at James smiling.

“And he can use a play buddy.” James continues after you smirking.

“We have the empty guest room.” You say thinking about the empty room in your house nobody uses.

“And you look absolutely stunning pregnant.” James chuckles as he lets his hand slide onto your stomach.

You laugh and kiss him.

“Okay but once all this is over, you can’t be seducing me in Hotch’s office.” You say pulling back smiling as you place your hands on your hips, causing James to laugh and walk towards you, picking you up and shaking you around as you both laugh.

Unbeknownst to you both, Spencer watched the whole thing happen from his desk. Of course not knowing what was said in words between you and James but your body language and actions were enough.

Spencer accepted it was over, there was no point anymore. He loved you and he didn’t think he ever would stop. Grabbing his bag he walked out heading home, it was over.

Thank you guys so much for the love, I really appreciate it and now I kind of want to open request now to for one-shots that y’all would like.

#spencer reid x reader #spence reid #angst #no happy ending #criminal minds imagine #oneshot #derek morgan #penelope garcia #aaron hotchner #spencer reid

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sardonic-the-writer · 2 days

Text

𝐂𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ notes: happy birthday to me! when this posts i'll officially be older, and celebrating by being cringe (writing this). i also love that picture of misha. it's him at my birthday party for real. he told me himself (lying)

↳ warnings: none!

↳ song: rock your body—justin timberlake

masterlist | commissions | carrd

• Special occasions like this are few and far between

• The Winchester family hadn't had a proper birthday in decades. While Dean clung to memories of gas station twinkies in replacement of a birthday cake, Sam remembered most of his birthdays with a sort of sad animosity. Up until walking out on his dad for Stanford and spending his birthday that year with Jessica, he hadn't had a single enjoyable birthday party. Maybe that was part of the reason he refused to let you feel the same way about your own birthday—even if none of you were kids anymore

• Worst case scenario, the world is ending again and you all have little time for delicacies. If that's the case, you'd get a quick pat on the shoulder from Dean, one excited bear hug from Sam, and very confused Cas wishing you the best of births before being told to continue packing the shotguns with salt rounds

• "With age comes responsibility, so keep loading those guns. Spider-Man said that."

• "For someone that watches so much trash tv, you know so little about media, Dean." You snorted at your friend, fingers nimmbly crushing salt into a line of rigid red shells before moving onto the next group

• "Shut up before I decide to give you your birthday noogies." He pointed a finger at you from across the room with a single raised eyebrow. Off to the side you saw Cas ask Dean what birthday noogies were not-so-quietly, and you struggled to hold back a laugh

• Even in the worst situations, they could always manage to make you smile

• Best case scenario, however, it's a free day. Nothing to do, no devils to fight, no ghouls to stop—nothing. Just you, the guys, and time on your hands that you all normally never have. So what better way to utilize it than with a little surprise party?

• Sam would be the most into the whole birthday party shtick. He'd insist that it was the least they could do for you after all the years on the hunt together, and even got Dean to budge after a few minutes of petty debating

• "It's stupid and cheesy, Sammy. We're grown adults. We've fought the devil beforr for christ's sake." Dean gave his brother the stink eye from his spot in the drivers seat. Groceries stores and Mom & Pop stores passed them by as they ventured into the nearest town, but neither of them paid attention to their blurred surroundings

• "Come on Dean." Sam twisted his torso and turned to face him fully. "Don't tell me you don't remember the look on their face last month when we brought them back a souvenir from our hunting trip in Alabama. You would have thought we brought them a new car. Besides, this is the one chance we've had in a while to actually celebrate something." Sam's eyebrows tilted up as he recalled the memory, shooting a knowing look at Dean's side-profile

• "So what? I say we just tell them happy birthday like a regular person and call it a day." Dean grumbled

• "Is that why you're driving in the nearest direction of the bakery here?"

• Dean didn't respond

• "That's what I thought."

• "Shut your pie-hole or I'm kicking you to the curb."

• Once the boys get back to whatever new place you all are holed up for that week, a couple of crinkled bags in hand, they call on Cas to help out with setting up whatever decorations Sam had forced Dean to throw in the cart

• Cas didn't take nearly as much convincing to partake in the setting up of festivities, but he certainly did need a lot of it explained

• "I thought angels were familiar with the concept of birthdays?" Dean asked at one point while watching Sam pull part of a cake out of the oven. His hand was slapped away when he went to grab at it, and he glared at his younger brother momentarily

• "We are." Castiel's gruff answer came shortly. "But we stopped keeping count after the first couple thousand years. And it was never done like—" He flicked the party hat atop his head curiously, "—this."

• "What did you guys do to celebrate?" Sam asked while popping the lid to a can of store bough frosting open

• "Pray."

• "Naturally." Dean rolled his eyes sarcastically. A blanket of silence fell over the room after that as Sam set out to frost the first part of the cake. Then—

• "Hey. How come none of you are wearing paper hats?"

• "Oh, trust me Cas. It'll mean a lot more to them if you were the one wearing it." Dean's grin was borderline evil as he looked at the angel

• It's safe to say that you laughed the hardest you had in a while once seeing Cas looking so hesitant in a mini cone hat

• Overall, it's the best birthday— the best day —that you've had in a long time

• You didn't need much, and as a hunter you'd come to expect almost nothing. But knowing that your friends— the short tempered, college dropout, otherworldly friends that they were —took it upon themselves to set all this up for you was the emotional equivalent to a punch in the gut. A lovely emotional punch in the gut

• "If you start crying, I'll leave." Dean snapped at you when you eventuallyvoiced how much this meant to you. But the threat was empty, and you all knew it

• Sometime during the party, you had managed to wrestle a paper hat of his own onto his head, and how it sat on the side of his head like a crooked unicorn horn. Occasionally he'd reach for it as if to take it off, then lower his hand with a small smile

• "Shut the fuck up and give me a group hug, Dean." You grinned with teeth, gesturing at him to stand up

• "Wait, no, I take it back that's worse."

• "I will kill you, Winchester. I swear I'll do it."

• You ended up getting your group hug that day, even if it took Castiel trapping Dean between you and him to get him to stand still

• "I hate it here." He griped with a groan. Sam could only laugh as be watched his brother struggle in Cas's iron grip, and said angel was smiling a bit to himself. You felt your heart swell; even if the look on Dean's face was downright murderous

• "Smile or I'm egging Baby on my birthday night." You said before setting the camera's timer and holding it up above you all

• "You wouldn't—"

• "Watch me."

• All four of you have your own copy of the photo from that night, kept in your seperate pockets and bedside table drawers. To this day you find yourself smiling when you look at it, and even if you'd never know it, so do they

#supernatural #supernatural x reader #supernatural x you #supernatural x y/n #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x y/n #castiel #castiel x reader #castiel x you #castiel x y/n #x reader #headcanons #fluff

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brucewaynehater101 · 23 hours

Note

There's Titans Tower but Tim decides to go ahead and set up a Young Justice base as well since someone (it was Jason) ruined his ability to feel safe there and since so many people have the ability to interfere with the security settings of Titan's Tower. Also Damian and his little friends are starting to spend more time there and while Kon doesn't mind spending time with Jon, there is still a significant age gap between Tim's group and Damian's group and neither is interested in one side acting as babysitter for the other. Thus, Tim sets up Young Justice Base. It is a little bubble dome under water somewhere between Atlantis and Themyscira. They have a robot who does the dishes and light cleaning of common areas. Tim calls the robot Mrs. Mac. Cassie calls it Rosie (Jetsons). Kon goes with Rosie Mac to placate them both. Bart goes with BB (for Better than Braniac). Rosie BB Mac is not an advanced AI, she's a tiny bit more advanced than the average roomba. She does, on occasion, have to be pushed out of corners where she's gotten stuck. Bart has to be stopped from taping a knife to her. Bart rips off casinos to help fund the base. Kon goes and mines some asteroids for minerals to sell and use as building materials his part of the funding. Cassie convinces Hippolyta to led them some Amazons to help with the construction. The base may or may not have a blessing from Amphitrite and Hestia. Tim can finally have a place where he feels safe to sleep. Kon and Bart have a place that is their home where they don't feel like they're infringing on the hospitality of someone who feels obligated to them for things that aren't their fault. Cassie has a place where she can stretch and not feel confined or burdened by other's expectations. Anita, Cissie, and Greta absolutely visit. Anita brings the kids. They now have a safe place to retreat to just in case of an emergency. The kids love seeing the fish swim by and think it's just a really cool aquarium.

and if this is the Space Emperor AU then this is where Cassie stores all her ugly dishes with the team's faces on them and where the others on the team store theirs as well. If any of them go missing or get broken then there's a much smaller list of suspects for her to interrogate than if she were to keep them with her mom. Fewer questions as well for any of them to deal with.

Gods, I love underwater bases. Bioshock was a hella fun game to play because it was an underwater city. I've also tried to make a ton of Minecraft bases in the ocean.

Anyways, YJ deserves their own place that isn't associated with anyone else. They deserve either a brand new construction (like this) or a renovated one they found themselves (instead of it being an old space from other heroes). I'd live for the fluff of them slowly making the place theirs (from the weird paintings they hang up, the curtains they bicker over, the plethora of photos of loved ones, the random trinkets each one brings to decorate, etc). This is their home, and they should be able to make it fit them.

I'd also want to see some of the hurt/comfort of Tim finally losing that little bit of tension he never noticed he carries (since he's finally safe. He will be safe. No one can hurt him here).

Kon doesn't have to put on a persona. He's able to relax and simply exist.

Cassie catches herself just watching her friends with a fond smile on her face. She can't get enough of them just being around and being okay.

Bart doesn't have to try to fit himself into what others want him to be. YJ accepts him as he is, no matter what he does or how he acts.

#dc comics #tim drake #dc universe #thank you for the ask!!!!#yj98 #kon el kent #cassie sandsmark #bart allen

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try-set-me-on-fire · 6 hours

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Tagged by @eddiebabygirldiaz for seven sentence Sunday! Here’s uhhhhh more than that from a buddietommy vacation threesome fic-

The day is hot enough that Buck is curled up like a bug on the dock between them. He’d stayed in the water longer than Tommy or Eddie had, and had swum out further than either of them, so when he’d crawled back up onto the old wood planks he’d chugged an entire water bottle and promptly passed out. Eddie glances down at his bare torso, just starting to get a little pink.

“Should probably get sunscreen on him again.”

Tommy snorts as he leans backwards, stretching out to grab the spray can. “And you’re worried you’ve forgotten how to be a dad.”

“Fuck off,” Eddie says as Buck, still asleep, makes a similar sound when Tommy mists him all over with cold sunscreen. “It’s been months, man, that’s so long for a kid, who knows what he’s even into now-”

“Minecraft, right?” Tommy says as he smooths his hand over a few places the sunscreen pooled on his boyfriend’s back. “Wasn’t he on a video call with you and Buck about it for like three hours on Friday? Something about- uh- command blocks?”

Eddie is mildly impressed Tommy remembers the word — maybe — because he certainly doesn’t. Buck had only been slightly better at following along than he had as they’d squinted at the probably impressive pixels on the laptop screen. “I don’t know, I just feel like…” Every morning, still, he wakes up and thinks he needs to get Chris’ breakfast started. Whole parts of his being are wired around taking care of his kid, but since he’s been gone Eddie has been trying — in fits and starts and most of the time guiltily — to figure out what the rest of him is for. It’s part of what got him into the whole mess in the first place, chasing after the dreams of a 19 year old who got those dreams from his parents. A nice wife (but they never liked her, did they) and a good job (but firefighting is too dangerous, isn’t it) and a picket fence (one closer to home, Eddie, you’ve gone too far away.) So he owed it to Chris, owed it to himself, to figure out what the fuck he actually wants, so he doesn’t keep twisting himself into knots and taking out everyone around him when the line breaks. He’s not sure he’s any closer to whatever that is — other than it’s unlikely to include a wife of any kind — but in the time he’s taken trying, what if other things got lost in the upheaval? “I keep thinking I’ll just- not remember to do something. Forget how field trip permissions slips work, or not know what shoe size he wears, or- I don’t know. Anything. I won’t pack his lunch and it won’t be the end of the world but he’ll be hungry that day.”

Tommy leans back on his palms and looks across at him, quiet and thoughtful for a few moments in that way he has, like he’s thinking through every possible response before he speaks. He is, maybe; he’d confessed to Eddie that he’d spoken too quickly when he was younger, is embarrassed about a lot of the dumb shit he’d said, so he tries to take his time with his words now. “Eddie. You took us up here this weekend to check and make sure this place is accessible to take your kid to this summer. And- I get that’s a big thing, a big gesture, and maybe you’re worried about messing up the small stuff, but… You’ve still got his favorite kind of jelly in the fridge that nobody else eats. You love him, and he knows that. You’re gonna do fine.” He shrugs. “And he’s almost fourteen, if you forget to hand him lunch he’s gonna let you know.”

Eddie huffs a small laugh. “Yeah, I guess he will.” He groans a little, shaking his head. “Fourteen years old, that’s fucking crazy. I don’t feel old enough for that to be true.”

Tommy rolls his neck so it audibly cracks. “Yeah, yeah, you whippersnapper.”

Eddie grins at him. “You feeling the exercise, old man? Need to go lay down?” He cackles and leans away as Tommy grabs the can and sprays a burst of sunscreen at him.

Between them Buck grunts at the commotion, and rolls towards Eddie. He presses his face into the meat of his bare side above his trunks, and wraps his long arms around his torso. Eddie glances up at Tommy, who just looks fondly amused. “Uh. Wrong guy, there, bud.”

Buck stills, and then pulls back a little to squint up at him. Eddie’s not particularly ticklish, but something like goosebump are shivering across the skin of his stomach where Buck’s forearm rests against him. He has to actively try not to shudder as Buck pulls back and rolls the other way, Eddie watching hypnotized as he gives Tommy the same treatment. Buck presses a little kiss onto Tommy’s hip, in the spot he had just been cuddled into on Eddie, and Eddie’s mouth goes dry.

Tommy lets out a little breath, and Eddie doesn’t think he’ll be able to use the sun as an excuse for how pink he’s gotten as his eyes snap up to the other man’s face. Except- he’d been expecting a raised eyebrow, a flat mouth, some visual indicator of disapproval, that this is one step Buckandeddie too far, that all the rest of their codependent lives have been fine, a platonic kind of care built over years of being there for each other through the worst of the worst, but now the uncomfortable answer to what Eddie wants, the uncomfortable answer he’s been trying to avoid because it's something he cannot have, has been found out and the messy insides of him will have once again ruined something good. But what he finds is a tiny little smile and heavy eyes that-

Well, they don’t look disapproving in the slightest.

“You guys hungry?” Buck mutters, words muffled by Tommy’s skin. “We should go start the grill.”

Tommy’s little smile gets wide and lazy, eyes still stuck on Eddie. “I could eat,” he says.

Tagging @iinryer @shitouttabuck @butchdiaz @chronicowboy @homerforsure @rewritetheending @bigfootsmom if you have anything you want to share!

#not sure about the pacing on this but i mean it to be a short fic so its not like there will really be time to spread it out any more #tag games #seven sentence sunday #buddietommy

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livwritesstuff · 2 days

Text

It’s late in the day when Sam Owens first approaches Eddie.

Eddie is sitting in a lawn chair on the edge of Joyce and Hopper’s backyard in Hawkins, Indiana, and sort of trapped there ever since his and Steve's daughter Moe had dozed off in his lap a little while ago.

For the record, Eddie and Steve don’t live in Hawkins. They’d have to be insane to stick around after everything this hole of a town put them through, never mind willingly choose to raise a child there. No, Hopper had bullied them into making the trek home to celebrate Moe's first birthday (Jesus H. Christ, she's one) and by the looks of how crowded the yard is, he'd done the same to practically the entire rest of the Party too.

Eddie isn't actually trapped either. It's true that he doesn't really want to tempt fate by waking Moe up from a nap that he and Steve had sort of resigned themselves to skipping that day, but he could get up if he wanted to. He's a whole sap in his big age of thirty-six though, and extremely aware of how quickly Moe’s first year of life had flown by. He'd be a damn fool to not relish in these moments, when Moe is a baby still, when she's little enough to fall asleep in his lap like this.

So he's sitting and he's letting his mind wander down whatever rabbit-holes it ventures upon because he's not just a sap these days, he's getting retrospective too.

Twenty years after all the shit that went down in his Hawkins, Eddie considers himself a secondary character in it all (even though it hadn’t felt like it at the time – that’s for fucking sure).

Honestly, he'd really only been involved in about five days out of several years of that shit – not in the know yet for the first part, and unconscious for the end of it – secondary character stuff, in Eddie’s opinion (and as a two-time published novelist, he’d be the one to know).

It's probably for the best, to be honest. He barely survived even the secondary stuff — with a mostly-full picture of everything that happened over those three years he feels pretty positive that if he’d gone through anything more he wouldn’t have been so lucky.

And these days, in July of 2002, he’s feeling pretty lucky too.

“Doc,” Eddie nods as Owens takes the empty chair beside his own.

Owens is another one of these secondary characters in everything. Owens is…Eddie isn’t sure who Owens is, to be honest. A doctor in some capacity, he's fairly certain, and also a scientist too in some capacity given how he’s still in Hawkins doing research on all that shit — and he roped Dustin into it too (though as far as Eddie can tell, Dustin is a more-than willing victim in it and goddamn thrilled to be taking over his work someday too).

Someday soon, Eddie would wager, because Owens is well and truly reaching retirement age – he probably should have retired already, honestly, but Eddie can also sort of see why it might be difficult to step away from the kind of work he’s spent his life doing.

“Mr. Munson,” Owens greets him in return. Eddie watches his eyes flick down to Moe for a moment, “Or is it Pops these days?”

“That’s Steve, actually,” he replies, tipping his head in the direction of Steve, who’s standing at the grill with Hop (they’re listening to Dustin ramble about something and wearing matching beleaguered expressions).

Owens seems to understand the implication, because his only response is another one of those wry smiles and an exhaled laugh.

“Well, congratulations either way. I was very happy for you when I heard the news about the adoption.”

“Still keeping tabs on us after all these years?” Eddie asks, mostly joking because he knows the answer is yes. He knows they’ll have eyes on them for the rest of their lives for one reason or another (which he’s nearly made his peace with by now).

“Well, old habits die hard,” Owens replies somewhat tiredly, “Or something to that effect.”

Eddie doesn't really have anything to say in response, so he opts to say nothing, instead running a hand over Moe's hair — it's getting long these days, not quite long enough to style yet but long enough that she shakes her head to get it out of her eyes and knocks herself off-balance which is so so cute.

“I’ll admit," Owens continues after a while, "When I first met you, this isn’t where I thought you’d end up.”

“Yeah, you and me both, Doc," he laughs, because it's true.

“What I mean to say," he pauses, "It suits you.”

Moe chose that moment to finally stir, snuffling a bit as she lifts her head and looks at him with those beautiful brown eyes of hers.

"Good nap, bug?" he asks quietly.

She responds with a bleary, "Dada" (which she had only just started saying a few weeks ago and it goddamn kills Eddie every single time) as she nuzzled her cheek against his shoulder.

He hears Owens let out a soft chuckle.

“You’re really milking this, bug," Eddie says as presses a kiss onto the top of her head, "I think he gets it.”

#the level of strong-arming i went through with this one might not have been worth it tbh #whatever #take it and run ig #steddie #liv’s steddie dads verse #steddie dads #eddie munson #sam owens

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knightjpg · 2 days

Text

analgesia

It's not the first time he's got himself skunk drunk when back home on leave, and part of you resents his decision for joining the military. Clearly that has to be the reason for him living it up like it's his last goddamn night on Earth at every opportunity, right? You're more familiar with his sloppy cheek kisses and wandering hands while you get him home than you'd like, but such are the burdens of best friend privileges. It's Johnny—harmless, familiar. A little stupid and a lot sweet.

tags: dubcon, johnny/reader, alcohol mention, unprotected piv (wrap it up kids)

“Fuck's sake, Johnny, keep your feet—!”

Johnny just laughs and leans all of his weight on your shoulder again, making you squeak and scramble for balance.

“Le's dance, bonnie, c'mon, we gotta go dancin’,” he slurs in your ear.

A laugh bubbles up your throat before you can help it. You're tired and annoyed and exasperated, but it's just so damn hard to stay angry at Johnny with his big blue puppy eyes and the way he's always smiling like a little boy caught doing something he shouldn't have.

Dancing... Ridiculous. He can't even walk in a straight line.

“No,” and you try to sound firm through your smile. “We're going home, and we're getting you a glass of water. You stink.”

Johnny answers you with a full-on whine, burying his nose in your shoulder and scratching against your skin with his stubble. “Why're you s'mean. Why d’ye hate me.”

"If I hated you I’d dump your ass at a bus stop and leave you to sober up by yourself.” You hoist his arm more securely around your shoulder while you walk, thanking every higher being you can think of for wearing sensible sneakers tonight. Johnny's leaning into you so hard you have to lean back an almost equal amount just to stay upright and keep shuffling forward.

And so when he suddenly stops you almost fall face-first on the hard stone pavement. “What—”

You can see Johnny turn pale even under the dim lantern light, and he presses a hand to his mouth before doubling over—

“No no no please don't throw up—”

...and retching his guts out in the gutter. You allow yourself a deep sigh and watch your breath turn into a puff of cloud while listening to Johnny heave the alcohol out of his system. It's so dark out you can even make out the flicker of some stars when you look up, winking in and out of existence as the opaque curtains of cloud drift by.

When he's done you look down and wince at the stains on his shoes. He's shivering, and pity has you rubbing a hand over his shoulder.

“Ah dinnea feel s’good,” he mumbles.

“I can see that. C'mon, big boy. It's gonna be okay.”

He unsteadily lets you help him to his feet again. He's been feeling off all night, and you watch him with a mixture of worry and sadness.

You're more familiar with his sloppy cheek kisses and wandering hands while you get him home than you'd like, but such are the burdens of best friend privileges. It's Johnny—harmless, familiar. A little stupid and a lot sweet.

But it's never quite felt like this. He was all smiles tonight until...

Until when?

You don't know what set him off. You were with the usual crew, old friends. Everything seemed fine—Johnny'd been playing darts with some of the other lads and you'd been with the girls, gossiping over dates and breakups and relationship advice.

You'd shyly told them the bloke you'd gone out with last week called you back asking for another date, and were hounded afterwards for details. You'd been having fun until you weren't. Or rather, until you were too distracted by Johnny slamming back drink after drink with tense shoulders and tight eyes.

You sigh again when you reach your apartment. You had plans for tomorrow, but... You glance at Johnny. His head's slumping forward till his chin is almost touching his chest. You don't want to leave him feeling sick by himself.

Johnny's drunkenly mumbling to himself while you fish around your bag for your keys with one hand. One of his arms curls around your waist, making it harder, and then his hand wanders high enough to grope at your breast.

“Chrissake, Johnny,” you smack his arm. “Play nice. I'm trying to—”

“Love ye s’much, bonnie,” he mumbles against your neck, hand not moving an inch even with your nails digging into his skin. If anything it makes him cling to you more tightly, and you're worried he'll fall and break his thick stupid head if you push him off you with more force.

“Yes, yes, love you too. Idiot. Now let go, I want to get out of the cold...”

Somehow you manage to move around his iron grip and click open the door. You put up with his slobbering against your neck because it makes him a lot easier to deal with getting up the stairs and then, fucking finally, you're in your apartment where it's warm and cosy.

You shuffle over to the bedroom because it's closest and there's just absolutely no way Johnny's going to fit on your couch. You've tried. It's not worth putting up with the complaining about back pain the next morning.

Johnny flops onto the mattress and just when you think the finish line is in sight, his hand snatches yours so quick it's a blur.

“Dinnea leave...”

“Have to get you a glass of water,” you tell him gently, trying and failing to pry his fingers off your wrist.

“Dinnea want ye t’fuckin’ leave...” his voice breaks in the middle and you stop short for a second—is he crying?

God, how drunk is he...? You'd hoped throwing up would have counted towards sobering up, but apparently not.

“Shush, it's okay, it's okay. We'll get you some water and you'll sleep it off, alright?”

Johnny slurs something you don't catch and you take the opportunity to slip away and get him a glass. You make him drink it all, even manage to get him to rinse his mouth. He does as you say without fuss, wavering between stubborn as a rock and pliantly obedient as always.

“You're a handful and a half,” you say, but without any real heat to it. You brush back strands of brown hair—his mohawk's been growing out. He'll probably ask you to cut it again before he returns to base...

When he starts to slump over again you quickly take the glass from him and set it on the bedside table, and push against his shoulder to get him to lie on his back. “Christ, what are they feeding you,” you mumble to yourself. He's got to be bigger every time you see him—you don't think you could fit two hands around his arm.

When you pull back to get Johnny a blanket he grabs at you again, and this time you're too caught off guard to keep your balance. You fall half on top of him with an ‘oomf!’ and narrowly avoid kneeing him in the groin.

“Give me a fucking break,” you huff when he takes this as the go-ahead for a nice cuddle. Those thick arms immediately wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

“Love ye s’much,” he slurs again, mouth tucked just below your ear. Every time he moves his lips it's like he's kissing you, and despite everything you have to suppress a few shudders. “So fuckin’ bonnie. Was lookin’ at ye all night. Wanted t’go dancin’ with my girl, take ye home...”

You flush. It always takes you by surprise, the drunk ‘my girl’s, to the point where you asked him about it one time. Johnny just laughed and shrugged. “You are my girl. Known you the longest since forever, aye?”

You pointed out that's not quite what it means, and the only reply you got was that he wouldn't call you that if it bothered you. It's a promise he forgets every time he goes out, though...

“You're drunk,” you tell him.

“M'not,” he says, breath hot against your neck. It's followed by something wet, and you jolt in his arms.

“What’re you—Johnny, gross, what the hell!”

He licks at you again, and the twitch that follows is involuntary. Your neck is sensitive and, well, so what if it's been a while? The guy you're planning to see next week was going to fix that. Not Johnny. He's not... He's not supposed to be—

“Taste s’fuckin’ good,” Johnny groans against your neck. The bed shifts and creaks, and this time there's a graze of teeth.

“Wait,” you gasp, voice suddenly thin and airy and so distracted by Johnny biting at your skin it takes more than a few minutes for you to realise the bed is creaking because he's humping your thigh.

An embarrassed heat zaps through you right to your core, and the intensity of it makes you break out into a sweat.

“Johnny, Johnny, wait—”

He outright moans when you say his name, hands squeezing your waist before sliding down to cup your ass and angling your hips to slot his own into. “Make it so good for you, kitty, need ye s’bad...”

Jesus Christ. Mortifyingly you can feel yourself getting wet. Just—the proximity, the heat, the electricity running up your spine every time his big hands slide over your thighs. You feel trapped, suffocated, almost, and unfortunately the fact that you can't get away from him even if you try makes the dizzy feeling in your stomach spin harder.

When Johnny sucks at your neck and roughly tugs up your shirt to knead your chest through your bra there's a few seconds of white-out bliss, and you seriously consider giving in and just—

No. He's drunk. Probably barely has any idea what he's doing—never remembers what he said or did the next morning. You can already imagine the apologetic hugs, the huge pleading eyes. He'd feel terrible.

“You're drunk—you're drunk, c'mon, Johnny, we can't, we gotta...” you cut yourself off to muffle the moan that threatens to slip when Johnny ducks his head down and starts giving your chest open-mouthed kisses.

“No,” you protest weakly, unsure if you're telling him or yourself, because despite your good intentions you really don't want him to stop. Would it be so bad? Would it be so bad if you let Johnny make you feel good? He won't remember, will honestly probably pass out before anything actually happens, and... and...

“We gotta be—gotta be smart, Johnny, oh—” his name comes out as a sob when he flicks your nipple with his tongue, and you squeeze your eyes shut.

“Say my name, bonnie, sound s’fuckin’ pretty for me... Gonna make ye sing, make ye feel so good,” Johnny pants against your skin. One of his hands worms its way down, almost rips the buttons off your pants, cups your core right through panties. You shake from just that, back arching, hips stuttering away and then back towards him because this is unfair. Isn't drunk sex supposed to be shite? Why is he making it work? What's wrong with you?

Johnny moans loudly, unlike you completely unashamed and uninhibited and very happy to let you know that you're “So fuckin’ wet for me—tha's for me, aye? All mine? Fuck, tha's good—Sweet little cunt...”

You push at his shoulders with less and less conviction. You try tugging at his mohawk to get his attention, desperate not to have to be the voice of reason here, but all that does is make him shudder and bite at your tits.

And neither gets him to take his hands out of your pants, though he very quickly decides just feeling you soak your panties isn't good enough. With a lot more alacrity than you should reasonably expect of him he pushes aside your underwear, starts flicking your clit, and sticks his tongue down your throat to eagerly drink down your sounds of pleasure.

“Missed ye so much, miss my girl all the time,” he whines into your mouth. You can feel his cock thick and erect through his jeans, still rubbing against your hip, and you shiver, because Johnny's stupid big fingers are working you to completion at a rollercoaster pace. But when you start to tremble, breaths coming short and quick and needy—

He stops.

“No!” you whimper, sounding as pathetic and desperate as you feel. If he falls asleep now you're going to kill him.

But Johnny hasn't fallen asleep. When you crack your eyes open you look right into his, glittering in the half-dark of your room. When he speaks his voice is husky, low and tight with desire coating the edges.

“Tell me y’need me, aye? Wee lil’ cunt need me so bad?”

To punctuate his question he flicks at your clit again, and when your hips jolt in response his free hand presses them down into the mattress. Keeping still.

There's a split second of doubt, the voice of reason rearing its head in the back of your mind. This isn't right—he's drunk. You've just started seeing someone, kind of, not quite dating yet, but it wouldn't be fair—right?

You can't quite catch Johnny's expression in the low light, but the edges of him seem to sharpen when you don't answer right away. In one fluid motion he pushes himself up to hover over you, knee nudging your legs open wider, and presses his forehead against yours before starting excruciatingly slow circles on your clit.

You gasp and pant and can't do anything except lie there and let the weight of both his body and his gaze pin you to the bed, helpless and mortified at your own body's response. Because even though it's slow you are soaking him, him and yourself. Your jeans are ruined; your underwear is a joke. You're pretty sure if Johnny pulled away now his hand would be wet up to the wrist.

And you don't want him to pull away. You almost cry in relief when he speeds up his rhythm, so glad you don't have to make a decision after all and can simply receive whatever the alcohol in Johnny wants to give you...

Until he stops. Right on the edge, mean fucker, and this time tears slip past your lashes. “No, no, please, please, you can't—please, Johnny...”

“Tha's better,” he says roughly, the hand on your hip travelling up to pinch at your nipple until you try to wriggle away from him. “Love ye so much, kitty. Tell me you love me, c'mon.”

“I—” you swallow, mouth feeling dry despite all of Johnny's slobber. This feels like more than it should be. You love your friends. You love Johnny. But—

“Y’want it?” One of his thick fingers prods at your entrance without ever really entering, and the promise of relief so close is what breaks you.

“Yes,” you whimper. “I want it. Please. Please...”

Your reward is one thick finger slowly entering you, and you squeeze your eyes shut and sob at the sensation. It's almost—almost—everything you've ever needed. Johnny's breath has gone ragged above you, eyes glued onto your every expression.

“Y’need me, aye? Say it. Say you need me.”

“I need you,” you manage to stutter out, the last vowel of which transforms into a drawn-out moan when it gets you a slow crook of his finger inside you. It's so fucking slow, Jesus H., but it's something. If he stops now you're going to lose your mind.

Your desperation along with your evident arousal softens Johnny, and he coos at you while he fingers you. “Don't hav’ta go anywhere, jus’ stay right here with me, give you everythin’ you need...”

It'd almost be sweet if you could think straight, and you should be, you're supposed to be the one keeping a clear head, but it's really hard to think anything at all when Johnny's messily kissing you again.

“Pretty girl,” he groans when you squeeze around his finger. “My pretty girl. Ye love me? D’ye love me, bonnie?”

Your stomach is tightening and with a spike of panic you rush to answer this time:

“Yes, yes, Johnny, love you—”

How unfair that that makes him stop. He looks at you, eyes big and wild, cheeks flushed, like a kid opening a Christmas present he was told his parents didn't have the money for. And then he pulls away entirely to rip your jeans off. By the time it catches up to you, you barely have the wherewithal to raise your hips to help him.

His own clothes follow suit so quickly you fear for the fabric, and then realise it's yourself you should be worried for. You had an inkling of Johnny's size, have woken up to it pressing against your ass too many times to count, but...

That's not going to fit, you think wildly, and Johnny must see some of the panic on your face, because while he lines his thick leaking tip up to your soaking cunt his other hand pets at your cheeks, lingers on your throat. “Doing so good, bonnie, gonna make ye feel so good, fill you up so nice...”

His moan fills the room when he slides in another few inches, bounces off the walls and ricochets inside your head. It doesn't hurt, thank God—you're drenched and desperate and at this point frankly impatient.

Johnny slides in deeper and tugs your legs around his waist, makes you keep them there when he bottoms out and lets out a wild groan from somewhere deep in his chest. You can feel it in your own, pressed against you as he is.

“Perfect girl,” he gasps, slowly pulling his hips back and then slamming them back into yours. “Fuckin’ mine—all f’r me.”

This time you're not sure who leans in for the kiss first. It doesn't matter anymore. Your moans and whimpers steadily grow in volume until you're crying under Johnny, clinging to him while he fucks you following a rhythm too quick and wild to try to meet.

When he presses his thumb to your clit again it barely takes anything to ignite the fire again, wild and hot and ready to boil over. Johnny coos at you again when your mouth drops open in long, silent cry, cunt clenching around him hungrily. “Tha's it, bonnie, feel so good, aye? Pretty kitty feelin’ so good? Fuckin’ made for me, gonna fuck ye so full—”

It doesn't take long for him to do exactly that. You can feel his cum filling you, hot and heavy, long spurts accompanied by Johnny's desperate moans and whimpers.

You whine when he collapses on top of you to give you more lazy, open-mouthed kisses—“You're heavy, Johnny, get off”—and try to catch your breath in the two seconds of reprieve you get before he's pulling you into his chest.

You're spent. Sweaty, flushed, and boneless. The sheets are no doubt disgusting, but it's so late and you're too fucked-out to care. You file it away for tomorrow, just like the hundred other things you're going to have to talk about somehow...

Johnny lets out a deep, contented sigh, tucking you under his chin and pulling your leg over his waist like he's rearranging a doll. You don't have the strength in you to protest. It's only when you feel his cock prodding at you again that you jolt away from him and try to remove your leg, but Johnny frowns, clicking his tongue like he would at a disobedient pet.

“I want to sleep, Johnny, 'm tired...”

Johnny tuts softly, keeping you still with a firm grip while he enters you again. “’S just for keepin’ it all in, bonnie, dinnea fuss. See? ‘S nice all full like this, aye? Wake ye up all nice ‘n proper tomorrow.”

You wriggle in his grasp with a soft whine—Johnny's cock is girthier than any other you've had before and you're sore from being used like a battering ram, even if it felt mind-numbingly good. But Johnny's arms are iron, and the more you try to move around the tighter he holds you to him.

Eventually you give up and give in. Sleep is tugging at you insistently, and when you relax around him it's not so bad. Johnny kisses you when he feels you settle, his hand running soothingly over your bare skin.

It's enough for you to be lulled into sleep. Before you drift off one last thought surfaces:

Isn't Johnny supposed to be good at holding his liqueur...?

#cod mw2 #cod x reader #soap cod #john soap mactavish #soap mw2 #soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap/reader #john soap mactavish x reader #x reader

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stervrucht · 2 days

Text

Click here for part 1 or read this on AO3

Eddie has no idea why it bothers him that Steve is out with some girl, nor why he’s painting his nails with Robin.

He doesn’t paint them often. It’s more effort than it’s worth and Eddie can’t keep his hands still for long enough to allow the varnish to dry.

Still, he accepts when Robin asks him to hang out.

Her room is simple and small, yet it radiates personality.

It radiates Robin.

Surfaces are littered with trinkets — a cliché souvenir from Indianapolis, a picture of little Robin with a cat, some colorful pebbles she probably collected. She has a French horn sitting neatly in a case, and a stand with sheet music. Her walls are covered in posters — female artists like Blondie and The Runaways.

He doesn’t question the way her eyes linger on him when she tells him about Steve’s untrackable love life.

When he asks Robin about her love life, she promptly blushes and looks away.

“I’m working on it,” she says, uncharacteristically shy.

Eddie eyes the posters and feels something click in his mind.

When he gets home he looks at his nails. The varnish is dented where he bumped it into things before fully drying and his thumb is already chipped from where he bites it sometimes.

A few days later, when he sees Steve at Family Video, the black on his nails resembles a collection of small black islands in a sea of pink.

Call it a nervous tick.

***

“Have you ever kissed a girl?” Eddie asks Robin.

For a moment, a mild shock paints her face, but then it’s gone. Like the first snow in November, when the ground is still warm from summer.

Robin is a stellar actress.

“Have you?” she asks, and Eddie should have seen that coming.

He opens his mouth to answer but before he can make a sound Robin cuts him off.

“Middle school doesn’t count when you’re over twenty.”

“Well, shit, you’re onto me, Buckley.” Eddie chuckles.

Eddie knows. Or at least he thinks he does.

Girls who like Joan Jett like girls.

Eddie has seen it before. At the parties, he attends when he’s selling.

The more niche — the more underground — the better the buyers.

Inexperienced high schoolers hardly fill his wallet.

So he goes to the parties filled with leather and smoke and music that thumps in tandem with his heart, and there he sells. There are no rules at those kinds of parties, only intoxication, flesh, sweat, and lust.

He doesn’t partake himself. The women who try to wind him up — to get his shit for free — he turns them down.

He has to.

He’s got a supplier to pay and this is his job.

Men don’t require free shit. They will flirt for a quick fuck.

He turns them down too, but a part of him feels flattered

“Have you ever kissed a guy?” Robin pulls him back from his thoughts.

They look at each other and Eddie realizes Robin knows too. Of course, she does. She knew before he realized it himself.

Because he has never kissed a guy.

But he wants to.

***

It's Friday and movie night is cancelled because Steve is on a date with Jennifer.

She’s all wrong for Steve. Too bland. Eddie knows it won’t last but he still feels bitter.

Eddie takes Robin to one of his dark clubs. The kinds where anything goes and the people don’t care. They go, not to deal this night, but to get Robin out there.

The girl is a disaster and Eddie knows she just needs a little experience, a little boost, and she will do fine with Vickie.

Vickie, a redhead.

Robin told him, and Eddie can vaguely recall her from the party at Robin’s house. Eddie supposes she’s a nice girl and he hopes — really hopes for Robin — that Vickie likes her as much as she likes her.

They go to a thrift store and buy something black just to tear it to shreds — to make it better — and Robin looks fantastic. Messy hair, dark make-up. A real Joan Jett. If Eddie was a girl, we would go wild for her.

They paint their nails too and this time Eddie’s look better because Robin did them for him.

When Eddie looks in the mirror he thinks he looks pretty fucking good with his low-buttoned black shirt that shows off his tats.

The club is dark and the atmosphere heavy. Eddie hasn’t really been there to party himself, only to sell, and it’s strange to be on the other side of it.

Bodies move like snakes, coiling around each other. He guides Robin to the bar and sticks up two fingers to the barman while mouthing for gin. He hands one of the tiny glasses to Robin and she frowns at it.

“For courage,” Eddie says in her ear, his voice hardly sounding above the insistent bass. He lifts up the glass and Robin reciprocates his toast. Then, after Eddie tips his own shot back, she follows suit.

She scrunches her nose and Eddie wonders if this was her first. Probably. He won’t ask her.

Clubs aren’t made for talking.

Eddie grabs her hands and leads her through the crowd. They settle, surrounded by bodies, and Eddie moves his hands to her hips — to guide her. He can see she’s out of her element but soon the gin will loosen her up and Eddie will make her flirt with some girls. Or maybe leave her to swim in the sea of bodies for a while, to see if she floats.

When the gin hits, Robin’s movements become looser. They aren’t particularly enticing, but they’re quirky and cute. Sweat is forming on her brow in the heat of the crowd when a girl with a black pixie cut steals Robin away.

Eddie leans against the wall and watches them dance from a distance — to keep an eye on her. The girl seems nice enough, doesn’t force herself, and Robin seems more confident as she leans forward to say something in her ear.

“You dealin’ tonight?”

Eddie looks next to him and sees a man in his late twenties with dark brown hair and green eyes. Eddie recognizes him vaguely and he supposes he may have sold to him before — if the question wasn’t a giveaway yet.

“Not tonight.”

“Too bad,” the man says. He takes his time to look Eddie over before continuing, “You’re looking for a bit of fun?”

They share a joint — Eddie’s personal stash — and then they’re making out, sloppy and wet, and Eddie has never kissed a guy before. He feels stubble on his cheek and smells the geranium of his perfume and sweat.

The guy’s brown hair tickles his cheeks and it’s the same shade as Steve’s.

The man’s hands are strong where they trace above Eddie’s jeans, his fingertips calloused — maybe from playing guitar or something like that.

And that’s not like Steve at all.

***

Steve is always on his mind.

He is everywhere.

Eddie feels like he’s going crazy in his absence.

It’s even worse in his presence.

But that is hardly a problem because Steve is busy with Jennifer

Robin and Eddie have a movie night without him that Friday, curled up on the couch of Wayne’s trailer.

They watch the Rocky Horror Picture Show, and Robin sings along with the songs like the band kid she is.

After their night out, something seems to have shifted in her, even though all she did was talk and dance. She seems more comfortable in her skin and when she speaks of Vickie, there is less of an anxious undertone to it. Eddie is happy for her.

He doesn’t tell her about what happened that night.

Nor that he realized he may be in love with Steve Harrington.

***

Jennifer lasted a whole two weeks.

Steve drags Eddie to some dumb party in a last-ditch effort to get her back.

It’s pathetic really, and it grates on Eddie’s nerves. Eddie doesn’t want to be there, but Robin couldn’t go and Eddie is just that fucking nice.

It’s not like the little get-together they had at Robin’s, which was mostly people from band — an effort to get with Vicky, Eddie realises in hindsight. This party is far out of the realms of Eddie’s comfort zone, especially when he’s not dealing. It’s filled with the type of guys who would make fists at Eddie, call him a freak, the types he loved to provoke in the cafeteria — a mating ground for meatheads and bimbos.

Steve has had too much to drink. Eddie can see it in the way he staggers while he watches Jennifer get cozy with some lanky loser.

Eddie comes up behind Steve, rests his chin on his shoulders, and slides his arms under Steve’s, taking hold of the beer in his hand.

“I think you’ve had enough, Stevie.”

It’s for his own good.

Eddie knows he is pushing the boundaries of what is socially acceptable and he sees some people shooting them glances. A mix between curiosity and disgust. It’s not like jocks don’t do this all the time. They will slap each other's ass and say ‘nice dick’ and somehow that is acceptable. But when it’s someone like Eddie, it suddenly is too much

Suddenly it’s too real.

Steve turns around in Eddie’s arms and they are standing close.

“Hey, I was drinking that.” Steve frowns and his eyes are unfocused as they shift between Eddie’s before drifting down to his mouth.

Fuck.

Eddie isn’t sure what Steve is about to do as he leans forward. Maybe he has just lost his balance, but it sure as hell looks a lot like Steve is about to kiss him.

And this party filled with loose-fisted jocks isn’t the time nor place for a sexual awakening of any kind. Kissing a guy is far outside of the realm of plausible deniability.

Eddie pushes Steve back by his shoulders and slings an arm around him, laughing nervously.

“How about we go for a smoke, you and I.”

Steve furrows his brows.

They sit outside on the lawn. It’s a gathering spot for those that are too far gone. People are vomiting or getting it on, mostly one or the other, but occasionally simultaneously.

The air is still warm and the sky is just barely settling into a dark blue. The time of dusk that somehow feels darker than night.

Eddie pulls his zippo from his pocket and lights the cigarette between his lips. He inhales deeply, letting the smoke rest in his lungs before slowly letting it escape through his lips.

Next to him, Steve holds his head in his hands and sighs miserably.

“Shit man,” he mutters.

“Here.” Eddie nudges Steve in his side and the latter raises his head miserably.

Eddie holds the cigarette out for him and Steve reaches for it with unsteady hands.

“Wait, lemme,” Eddie says as he brings the cigarette up to Steve’s mouth.

Steve’s lips are warm against his fingers as he takes a shaky drag and Steve coughs a little when he exhales.

“Social smoker?”

“Hm...yeah,” Steve replies. He takes hold of Eddie’s hand and brings it to his lips for another drag. The press of dry lips against his fingers is more insistent than before.

Eddie stares into the distance as he writes this Steve into his memory. Drunk, the smell of beer and smoke, and water hitting dry grass from sprinklers of the house across the street. Warm air and distant music, and people talking and yelling, yet it’s just the two of them — a world within a world.

Once they finish the cigarette, Eddie stands up and dusts his jeans. He offers a hand to Steve, who takes it gratefully. He is unsteady on his legs and Eddie holds him up by his shoulder.

“Lemme take you home.”

“I can’t stand being in that house,” Steve slurs.

“It will be okay, Stevie.” Eddie guides Steve to his van and counts his lucky stars he had quit drinking after one beer. He sets Steve in the passenger seat and leans over to buckle his seatbelt.

When Eddie pulls away, Steve grabs his arm and when Eddie looks up, Steve lays his hand on the curve of Eddie’s neck, on top of his hair and it pulls when Steve tugs him closer.

“Thank you,” Steve says. His gaze is unsteady but piercing and Eddie feels himself freeze for a moment.

His mouth suddenly feels too dry and Eddie nervously wets his lips. “Anytime, Stevie.”

He sees Steve’s eyes drift down again, just for a second, and then Eddie pulls away.

When he climbs behind the steering wheel he turns his music off, allowing Steve to sober up in relative peace.

The white noise of tires hitting the road, the engine running, and warm wind gushing through an open window — just a crack — fills the car.

“I didn’t even like her,” Steve says after a while.

The road is unlit and dark and Eddie has to keep his eyes trained ahead. He isn’t sure if Steve is talking to him anyway, or if it’s just drunken rambling.

“Is that so.” Eddie tries to keep his voice cool.

“She was boring. We had nothing in common.”

Eddie hums.

“I don’t want to be alone…” Steve trails, almost a whisper, barely louder than the wind — like Eddie wasn’t supposed to hear.

“Believe me, Steve, you will not end up alone. You’re like, a lady’s magnet if I ever saw one.”

Steve scoffs in response and he turns his head towards the window.

When they arrive at Steve’s house, Eddie gets him out of the car and digs through Steve’s pockets in front of the door to get his keys.

By now, the house feels familiar — like a showroom or an image from an IKEA catalog.

Eddie understands Steve hates being here alone.

Steve’s weight is heavy on his shoulder and he isn’t sure if it’s really because Steve is drunk, or because he has given up on walking altogether in favor of having Eddie do the heavy lifting.

He guides Steve up the stairs and lays him on his bed. His legs dangle off the edge and Steve lays his head back, staring at the ceiling.

“Hold on one sec,” Eddie says and Steve just groans in response.

Eddie returns with Advil for the morning and a glass of water, and sets it on the bedside table before he sits down on the bed next to Steve.

“Up you go.” Eddie lifts Steve up in a sitting position and by now he’s sure that Steve is just being a drama queen because he doesn’t seem half as drunk as he pretends to be.

He brings the glass to Steve’s mouth and makes him drink even when Steve initially refuses.

Steve will thank him in the morning.

“Lift your arms,” Eddie instructs.

Steve is looking at him with those big brown Bambi eyes.

And fuck, if that doesn’t make Eddie’s heart do a little summersault.

Steve blinks slowly but obliges and Eddie strips him down to his boxers and lays him down.

When Eddie is about to pull away, Steve grabs his wrist and it’s more steady, more forceful than someone drunk has any right to be.

"C'mere." Steve pulls on his arm and Eddie thinks this is probably a terrible idea.

And look, Eddie might not stick that close to social conventions — or the law, for that matter — but he is a fucking gentleman and Steve is drunk.

So Eddie resists.

Steve pulls more insistently.

“Stay.” It’s almost a whisper and it’s so desperate it sends a jolt down Eddie’s spine.

Steve looks at him, eyes more steady. Perhaps the water had helped.

“Fine, I’ll stay,” he relents. “I’ll be down the hall—”

Steve pulls again. “No, here.”

And Eddie feels himself lose his balance, or maybe it is just his urge to resist. He falls on Steve’s chest and who wraps his arms around him.

Steve holds him and even with Eddie halfway off the bed, it is nice.

But it’s not sensible.

“At least let me change, Steve. Have you ever slept in jeans before? It’s not fun.” Sensible, Eddie reiterates to himself.

Steve whines when Eddie pries himself away.

Steve is a needy drunk.

And a little whiny.

And a lot affectionate.

Eddie undresses quickly and moves Steve so he’s actually using the bed in its intended orientation.

He slips in at Steve’s side, muscles tense as he tries to keep his breathing steady.

Is it possible to die of your heart beating too fast? Eddie is sure he read something about it somewhere and if so, this should be the moment he becomes a religious man.

Steve puts an arm over Eddie’s chest and burrows his face in Eddie’s neck, letting out a content sigh.

As Steve’s breathing slowly evens out, Eddie stares up at the black void of the ceiling.

He realizes Steve has won. There is no way Eddie can beat him at this game of proximity.

Steve, the new king of Personal Space Invasion.

Eddie realizes he may have stopped playing somewhere along the way.

***

There are no more girls.

It makes Eddie happier than it should. Happier than he should allow himself to feel because it can only result in heartbreak.

Yet he can’t help himself.

He takes all Steve will give him. Opens his heart to a world of hurt, just for a sip of the lake that is Steve.

Eddie stays over at Steve’s place often.

Routine carves itself into their life like a glacier, slow and heavy, working its way through layers of stone.

There are no more girls and Eddie can almost pretend that what they share is something more — as long as it remains unnamed.

Steve doesn’t ask Eddie to join him in his bed anymore — he doesn’t have to. It has become a silent agreement among them and surely there are places where platonic bed-sharing is the norm. Probably somewhere in Europe.

Harrington is an Irish name, right?

Eddie always wakes up before Steve does. It’s not hard to do, because Steve likes to sleep in. He sleeps through alarm clocks like the sound is ambient and Eddie wonders how he ever gets to work on time.

Some of those mornings, they wake up pressed together — Eddie’s back against Steve like they’re lovers.

Those flitting moments between sleep and wakefulness are the best because Eddie can pretend.

***

“My parents will be home this week,” Steve says that morning. He leans against the counter next to where Eddie is pouring them coffee.

It is early and Steve will head to work soon. Shy sunlight peeks through the trees behind Steve’s house, into the kitchen where it draws lines on Steve’s thighs. Outside the birds sing like their lives depend on it, but in Eddie’s heart, it's quiet. The mornings smell like coffee and deodorant and freshly brushed teeth.

His shoulders stiffen and his grip on the coffee pot tightens. He knew it would come to this eventually. He prepared himself for it, but it still stings.

“You must be happy,” Eddie says instead, eyes trained on the cups in front of him. They are full, but Steve can’t see that. Eddie can pretend a moment longer, to gather himself before he faces Steve.

“Not really…I mean, it makes no difference to me. They work late, or they have dinners with friends. It hardly changed anything except now I have to take them into consideration.”

“And that means they probably don’t dig me hanging around, right?”

Sleeping over, several nights a week, in bed with their perfect son.

“Probably not.”

Steve lets the words hang there and Eddie feels like he should take them, chew them up and spit them out into something better.

“Wayne works night shifts.”

The words are out before Eddie can stop himself. He hands Steve his coffee, just to have something to do as he sees Steve think. Anxiety wraps itself around him like a snake, squeezing his heart until Steve breaks him free. Eddie imagines the snake from the woods, coiled up with a footprint on it.

Steve smiles, so carefree, so utterly unaware of the things it does to Eddie's heart and reaches over to smooth a curl behind Eddie’s ear.

And this is new — this intimacy in the undeniable clarity of daylight.

Eddie feels his pulse race and all he can do is gape at the back of Steve’s head, who is already walking over to the table with his coffee in hand.

“I’ll grab our toothbrushes before I head out,” Steve says while he pulls out a chair.

---

Click here for part 1 or read this on AO3

---

A/N: So, remember how I said two parts….? Well, this story started to live its own life and I'm but a slave to the whims of these boys. In my defence, it’s probably Steve’s fault. Anyway, there will be more chapters. At least one, maybe two?

#steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steddie #steddie fic #steve x eddie #my fics #proximity_fic

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rileyglas · 2 days

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Can we get part 2 of the cat Lucifer, cat Alastor, and little Adam thing? Like living with them type thing or daily life? It was adorable!!

The sheer chaos that all three of these little counterparts make was fun to explore! Hope you enjoy! Part One can be found here

Meeting their Fandom Counterparts Pt. 2 Alastor, Lucifer, and Adam x gn!reader

Cat Alastor

The morning light just started to peek through the window of your room. You roll over with a stretch, hand reaching for Alastor, “Good morning my - OW FUCK get off!” The cat, if you can even call it that, pounces and embeds its teeth into your arm. You fling it off to the floor, a solid thud resonates across the wood planks. “Al I can’t keep going with this! He won’t even let me near you without going nuts!”

“He’s protective, that’s all. I’m sure he just needs to warm up to you a bit more. Isn’t that right my boy?” he coos, patting the bed beside him to call the cat back. You roll your eyes and scoff. That thing has been Alastor’s new favorite in the hotel for nearly three weeks now. It has wreaked havoc every day, not to mention the turmoil poor Lucifer has gone through thanks to its antics. “And how much more time do we need before coming to the conclusion he’s a deranged, rabid nuisance?” A scowl crosses your face as you swing your legs over the bed to get up.

You hear a static filled growl rumble at your words before the cat stretches to a concerning length, curling up and purring in Alastor’s lap. “I’ve grown quite fond of him, my dear. I can’t help that he’s bonded with me.” You groan under your breath, “Can you at least try to keep him away from Lucifer today? The King is starting to get a nervous tick. He could use a break from the torture.” Alastor exhales in acknowledgement but you already know the day you’re in for.

A few hours later, everyone sits around the table happily munching on breakfast. Lucifer sits across from you, sipping on his coffee quietly. His eye twitches ever so slightly. “Feeling alright, sir?” you ask, noticing his nerves are more fried than ever. Before he can answer he violently jolts,“UHG something BIT me!?” he yells as he pushes his chair back. Alastor’s cat pops up from between his legs with some white material between a disturbing smile. Both you and Lucifer shoot a glare at Alastor who is chuckling smugly to himself.

“You need to keep a leash on that thing before I take care of it myself!” Lucifer hisses. Alastor’s eyes flash and he slams his hands to the table, “You will not lay a finger on him!” The two men go nose to nose, arguing (yet again). Angel leans over to you, “That thing chased Fat Nuggets around with a fork last night. Its eyes always have that deranged, unsettling look. I personally wouldn’t mind if the King took care of it.” he whispers. You nod in agreement but sigh, knowing it is one of the few things Alastor has come to love during his time here. There’s no way you could take that away from him.

You stand and clear your throat, “Al I think Lucifer is right. You need to keep a better eye on him if you want to keep him. Don’t want him running off any potential clients of the hotel, right Mr. Hotelier?” He rolls his eyes, snapping his fingers to conjure a collar and leash. “Fine, I’ll keep him closer for the sake of the hotel.” his voice drops slightly, “But don’t think I am done with allowing him to make some special visits.”

Lucifer groans as the cat jumps into Alastor’s lap for his collar. The two give a final, eerily similar grin to the King before disappearing into a shadow. “You going to be okay?” you ask Lucifer. He shudders slightly, examining the new hole in his slacks. You hear a small chuckle leave his throat, “Yeah…I think I’m going to go get a dog today. A big one.”

Cat Lucifer

“Honey I really don’t know if a bow tie is necessary -” Lucifer tries to convince you but you wave him off as you adjust the tiny tie attached to the white cat’s collar, “Come on! He looks like a little distinguished gentleman, don’t you Luci?” “Stop calling him that!” he grumbles, arms crossed across his chest. The smallest pout on his lips makes you melt pitifully, “Now my love, don’t tell me you’re jealous? You’re still the number one man in my life.” Still holding the cat, you lean over and kiss Lucifer’s cheek.

A light blush crosses his face with a small grin, “I know. I guess I just feel so disconnected lately. I’m sorry.” Luci hops out of your arms and paws at Lucifer’s coat tail. A sudden idea makes your face light up. “Why don’t you make him a toy? You’re locked in your office so much - maybe it can be a little side project to help bring you closer?”

The cat stares up at the King, eyes glossed over and a small droplet of drool dangling off its chin. Lucifer sneers, “Are you sure he even understands what a toy is?” You smooth his coat and push him out the door, “Just consider it, please? Have a good day dear.” A week later, as usual, Lucifer was working overtime every night. You’re grateful you at least have the small fluff ball to keep you company, even if Luci is a little on the dim side. You’ve witnessed him attack his own feet and roll off the bed multiple times, hitting the ground with a disgruntled huff of defeat. He’s even taken a few swipes at Fat Nuggets. When the pig turned to chase him his wings would puff out in an attempt to ‘fly’ away. The poor thing just looked as though he was having a seizure, flailing and flapping around on the floor, going nowhere. Let’s just say - he’s lucky he’s cute.

Lucifer finally comes in one evening sporting a smug grin, “My dear! Introducing my new creation!” He extends his hand out holding a small white rubber duck with cat ears and a red bow tie, “It’s a duck..cat..thing but more importantly, I installed little wheels underneath so he can chase it to his heart's content!”

He sets the duck down in front of Luci. The cat noses it, hissing when he hears the whirling of the gears that make the duck slide across the hardwood floor. Lucifer’s shoulder stoop, “Damn, I really thought he would like it.” he admits with a hint of sadness. You pat his shoulder, “Give him a moment - oh see! He loves it!” Luci begins to roll around and chirp playfully. After a few moments he pounces (clumsily), catching it between his fangs. The cat proudly struts over to Lucifer and sets the toy at his feet. He bends down to scratch between Luci’s ears, “Hmpf. You’re welcome little guy!”

Your plan for Lucifer to bond seems to backfire slightly. Before you know it, not only is your boyfriend missing nearly every night, but you’ve noticed Luci hasn’t come to bed with you as usual. After a few nights of this, you sneak down the hall to peek into the King’s office. You can’t help but giggle at the scene before you. Lucifer works hard at his desk, with one drawer pulled out next to him. You notice a small blanket stuffed inside and on top is Luci, curled up comfortably and purring. His little white duck tucked safely under his paw. Every now and then Lucifer’s hand finds the cat to give it a few pats. Well…at least someone has company.

Little Adam

The deal of not allowing Little Adam to come home didn’t last long. The day after he showed up you stand at the stove cooking dinner when you feel a small pinch on your ass. “Well hello to - what the HEAVENS is he doing here!?” You turn around expecting your Adam only to see the little shit making obscene grabbing motions with his hands.

“I couldn’t leave him again! He was scared!” Adam defends loudly then grumbles something under his breath. “What was that dear?” you prod, knowing there’s more to the story. He turns away, embarrassed, “Well…he also might have destroyed the main office while I was gone…and now has a few formal complaints I will have to deal with…”

You cross your arms, “Mhm. And?” Little Adam crawls up your legs and under your shirt. “Hey - NO! OUT!” your words fall on deaf ears as he snuggles into the warmth of your chest. “See he loves you just as much as I do! Please, let’s keep him here?” Adam flashes a coy smile that you, of course, can’t say no to.

It was easy to see why there were so many complaints about Little Adam. Over the course of a few days he ate every snack in the house, groped you anytime he could, and left a mess in any room he was in for more than a minute. You are at your wits end but continue to put up with it for the sake of Adam’s happiness.

That is until tonight. Adam came home in a frisky mood and you welcomed his advances. He no more than got his robe off before Little Adam snuck his way into your bed, obnoxiously cheering his bigger self on. “Nope, that’s not going to happen.” You say as you flick him off the bed. His wings pop out and he flutters around Adam’s head.

“Babe common, it’s just a little me. Not like he can tell anyone what we do. Besides, it’s fuckin’ sick to have a little fan.” Adam says excitedly but his smile drops when he sees how pissed off you are. He hunches his shoulders, “Uhg fine. Sorry little dude. You’ve gotta go.” Little Adam squeaks in protest when Adam plucks him by his wings and throws him outside the bedroom.

Guilt begins to eat at you. On one hand, you couldn’t have that thing destroying the house everyday and terrorizing you. But Adam has grown attached. There had to be a way to make everyone happy. He was bound to just be lonely and need company. That’s when it hits you.

“Whatcha workin on sugar?” Adam asks, kicked back on the couch next to you. “I’m actually just finishing up.” You mutter as you make the final stitch and show Adam a small stuffed doll that has your resemblance. “I figured Little Adam needed a Little Me to keep him company. It’ll be cute…hopefully.”

You set up a small bed across your room for the tiny terror to sleep in. The last thing you wanted was to accidentally squish him in the night. Little Adam hops up and down in the bed excitedly as you set the doll next to him. He immediately snuggles it with a huge smile. “Awe he loves it! You did good babe.” Adam chuckles and wraps an arm around you. “Maybe now he’ll leave us alone. He probably was just in need of a frien - uhg great. Now he’s humping it.” You roll your eyes and walk away in disgust. “He’s definitely you.” you poke angrily at Adam who is nearly falling over from laughter. At this point, you’re just glad you found something to keep Little Adam out of trouble.

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