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stvolanis · 5 months

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BIRTHDAY BOY

(one shot)

PAIRINGS: Elvis Presley x wife! Reader

WARNINGS: tooth rotting fluff! Not proofread, clingy reader, no use of y/n, slight angst (Elvis thinks reader forgot his birthday), surprise party, kissing, pet names, the Memphis mafia been goofballs

NSFW WARNINGS: p in v sex, oral (m receiving), slight ball play ig?, light choking, hair pulling, daddy kink (duhh), cream pie, breeding kink, lingerie

sorry if I missed anything!! And happy birthday to the king of rock n’ roll<3

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

The entire day you and Elvis’ Memphis mafia have been planning is birthday party. His dad even started helping out.

It was going to be spectacular. You’d ordered a large 5 layered cake with buttercream frosting and strawberries, and written on top in cursive was ‘long live the king’ with a little 25 under it.

The house was decorated in head to toe with gold and white streamers, balloons, confetti, and any other kind of decor you could imagine fit for the king of rock n’ roll.

Elvis Presley had been gone for a week, taking on an acting gig in Florida, Miami. You missed him dearly, but you knew he was coming home today. Every time he called one of the house phones who would always chat your ear off on how much he wanted to see you. You’d think he had separation anxiety (he does).

The warmth of his voice on the line brought endless smiles to your face, and his amazing voice made giggles erupt from your throat. Everything about him shined, inside and out. He was beautiful, and a very charismatic man.

He had a certain feel about him. In a way where everyone would stop what they were doing just to catch a glimpse of him. He could hold an entire rooms attention and keep it, and sometimes he didn’t even realize it. People looked at him as if he were a god, and hell, maybe he was.

Elvis was a giving man. If you knew him, then you’d know that he shined so bright, he made the people around him shine, too. And to Elvis, you shined the most. He adored you. Every little thing about you was imperfectly perfect to him in just the right ways.

Elvis was a good husband, despite what people in the press have said. He takes care of you more than he takes care of himself, and he does it with a smile on his face and love in his heart that he only holds for you.

Elvis always told you that you were his angel. You were sent by the heavens to watch over him, guide him and love him for all he is after his mother died. You healed him and changed a broken, distraught man into the brightest star.

But you knew it was the other way around.

You found each other in a hopeless state, but together you overcame it and helped each other. Elvis was always kind to you, even if you two had petty little arguments, he’d always make it up to you by showering you in kisses with little ‘I’m sorrys’. How could you not forgive him when he was the sweetest man you’d ever met?

He remembered every anniversary. Every birthday. Every Valentine’s Day. He showered you in gifts, attention, dates, and never shut up about you in the press. You were sure interviews were sick and tired of him ranting on about how ‘good of a wife’ you are like a lovesick puppy, but it filled you with butterflies knowing he held you in such high regards.

Elvis was your person, and you were his. You’d known that since the day you met, and the day he popped the big question on a Thursday night in Hawaii confirmed it. It’s been bliss since you’d known him, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

But now, you sat nervously on the couch, biting down on your manicured nails nervously.

You hadn’t answered any of the 4 times Elvis has called you, and you knew he’d be worried by now. It was his birthday, and you felt bad because you didn’t want to upset him—but the surprise will be all worth it.

You wore his favorite outfit. A light blue, low cut dress that ended mid thigh, paired with black marry janes and white socks that sat a few inches below your knees. You also wore a white pearl necklace that acted as a light choker, and to top it all off, a silver chain sat secured gracefully on your neck that read ‘E.P’. A beautiful necklace your lover gifted to you for your 2nd anniversary.

But you wore a secret under your pretty little dress that Elvis would surely adore later tonight.

“Everyone, I just got word that Elvis is down the road, get in your places!” Gunner, a mutual friend of you and Elvis, shouted. You quickly took your place around the corner from the door, so you could be the first person he sees when he walks through the large entrance.

The lights were turned off and the room was silent as you heard booming footsteps come up the familiar stairs of Gracelands’ entrance.

You sucked in a breath of air as the door swung open, and you could already feel his suffocating presence in the house.

“Baby?! Where ya at?!” He yelled out, his voice laced with concern as he began to move towards the stairs, assuming you were in your shared bedroom. You giggled a little, and Elvis’ head snapped to your direction. You’d been caught.

“Surprise! Happy birthday, honey!” You yelled out, along with everyone else. Elvis let out a breath of air he’d been holding in for what felt like all day. No matter how many times he’s left home, weeks on end, you’d never gone not one day without calling him and tellin’ him all about your boring day without him around.

He drug a hand down his face with a groan, followed by a deep chuckle as your body collided with his in a tight hug. He kissed the top of your head, and finally, you’d felt his arms around you again. And it’s was as if all of his love visibly seeped into you.

“Was so worried, satin. Thought somethin’ bad happened to ya.” He huffed out with furrowed brows. You laughed as you cupped his face in your dainty hands. “Nothin’ bad happened, Elvis. Just wanted to give you a lil surprise is all.” You muttered as you brought his face down to your level, giving him the tenderest of kisses.

You tasted like vanilla on his tongue, mixed with cherry from the cherry lollipop you always had in your mouth. Elvis wasn’t sure how you hadn’t gotten a cavity from it yet. Your hair smelled like fresh rose water, and he knew it was from your annual bath-soakings full of the best rose petals money can buy and scented bath bombs.

You were warm against him, your small body molding and fitting perfectly against him. He loved you. God, did he love you. His baby. His love. His wife. The woman he plans to bear his children. He couldn’t get enough of you

“I got you a cake, Elvis.” You smiled up at him. You were the cutest thing he’d ever seen. Your smile was contagious to him, as he felt a grin spread across his face. “Yeah, lemme see it, baby.” He said.

You clapped your hands together, exited to see his reaction of the large cake, decorated to perfection. You took his large hand in yours and dragged him to where everyone else was in the dining room. On the table sat the cake, and Elvis felt his eyes widen at the mere heigh of it.

“Woah, that’s a lot of sugar, honey.” He chuckled out as he walked closer to take a good look. “Look at the top, El.” You urged. Like a good husband, he obliged and a chuckle rumbled in his chest.

“I love it, baby.” He said as he walked over and tightly hugged you, slightly lifting you off the ground in the process. “I’m glad! I hoped you would.” You said happily.

He didn’t have a chance to respond before the Memphis mafia swept him away from you. “Sharing is caring!” They yelled with loud boyish chuckles as they went to the pool room. Elvis mounted an ‘im sorry’, to which you merely giggled.

All throughout the night Elvis was occupied with his family and friends celebrating. You knew you shouldn’t, but you had to admit that you felt kind of neglected. In more ways than one.

He’d looked so unbelievably handsome all night, and you couldn’t help but become all hot and bothered as the night continued. You watched him play pool with his friends, his arms were exposed and fit. Elvis was no muscle maniac, but he had just the right amount for your mouth to start watering like a bitch in heat at the sight.

You finally built up enough courage to speak up about it as you walked over to where he stood in all his glory. His back was now facing you as you lightly gripped his arm to grab his attention, making him spin around to look at you.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He asked, his accent thick. You grew shy as his friends grazed in on the interaction, being nosy. You chewed on the bottom of your lip, and Elvis understood as he slightly leaned down is you could whisper into his ear. “M horny, Elvis.” You muttered, barely just loud enough for him to hear.

Elvis lightly hummed. “S that right?” He asked, and you nodded in confirmation. “Alright, don’t worry, sugar, I’ll take care of ya.” He stated.

“I’m done for the night, fellas.” He said as he tangled his fingers with yours, pulling you away from the group of men. They whistled knowingly, followed by a few hollers, making your cheeks flush red and bury yourself in Elvis’ side. He chuckled as his arm wrapped around you, walking up the stairs to your shared room.

He opened the door for you and flicked the lamp light on. “I got another surprise for you.” You muttered, shy under his gaze. He peered down at you. “Yeah? What is it, baby?” He asked, his breathing heavy.

You began to slide your dress off of your shoulders, below your breasts and down your hips before letting it fall to the floor beneath you. Elvis’ mouth watered at the sight and he felt his pants tighten uncomfortably, his slacks suddenly becoming too tight in his crotch area.

There you stood, in a baby pink lingerie set. Floral and lacy, nipples and pussy barely covered by flimsy fabric. Your thighs covered in garters with little pink flowers embroidered onto them delicately. What made Elvis go over the edge though, is when you turned around to show him your perky ass.

In cursive, sat nice and pretty was ‘Elvis Presley’.

He felt like he could cum in his pants right then and there.

“D-do you like it?” You asked, nervous at his silence. He scoffed. “Like it? Baby, i fuckin’ love it.” He said, spinning your around to face him before sliding his hands past your waist, down to your ass, tightly squeezing both of your ass cheeks.

You bit your lip as you looked up at him. “Yeah?” You whispered as his leaned down. “Fuck yes.” He muttered before his lips crashed down onto yours in a heated kiss.

It was sloppy as your tongues tangled with each other, you fighting for some kind of dominance that you knew Elvis wouldn’t allow. You sucked his bottom lip into your mouth, making him groan, biting your lip in retaliation. His hands squeezing the fat of your ass tighter, gripping you impossibly closer to him.

“Let me make you feel good, Elvis.” You breathed out against his lips. He merely clicked his tongue. “Hm?” He asked again. Your legs rubbed together, slick coating both of your inner thighs.

“Please let me make you feel good, daddy.” You repeated, more desperately this time. He groaned in satisfaction. “Good girl, go ahead, baby.” He urged.

You dropped to your knees and watched as he unbuttoned his pants, letting them drop to the floor. You licked your lips at the sight of his leaking cock, standing hard and ready for you in any way you can take him. He was long and girthy, balls hung, seemingly painfully full. Your core ached to relieve him.

You licked around his tip before licking his slit that leaked slaty pre-cum, and his hiss was enough for you to suck his tip into your mouth. “Fuck!” He yelped out as you sucked harshly, before taking him deeper into your mouth.

You bobbed your head up and down, your hands reaching to fondle his aching balls. If there was one thing you knew how to do, it was giving mind blowing, other worldly head. Your little mouth drove Elvis beyond crazy, wether it be for talking shit or having his cock in it.

His eyes rolled to the back of his head as you effortlessly deep throated his cock, and you felt him throb in your mouth. You gagged around him, making him throw his head back and let out a desperate moan.

“Yess, fuck! Just like that, honey. Suckin’ your husbands cock so well. Takin’ such good care of me.” He breathed out. You knew he was about to cum as his fingers found their way in your large hair, gripping tightly. “M gonna cum, baby. Shit.” He moaned out.

Your mouth moved to suck one of his balls into your mouth and your hand moved quickly to stroke his needy cock. Your hand moved fast, your fist tight around him. It was all too much, the way your mouth sucked his balls in like a vacuum and your hand stroking his hand at a quickening pace.

His cum spurted from his cock, and your mouth shot up just in time to get it in your mouth. You sucked his tip, milking him of all the cum he had stored away in his heavy balls. “Holy fuck, you’re so fuckin’ good, soso good f’me.” He said, mouth hung agape as you released his tip with a loud ‘pop’.

You opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out to show him the cum that rested on your tongue. He licked his lips and felt his cock harden again. “Swallow.” He said. And like the good little wife you are, you listened..

“Good girl. Now, getcha’ lil ass on the bed n’ bend over f’daddy.” He said as he helped you to your feet, slapping your ass playfully as you passed by him to the bed, making you giggle.

You bent over, legs spread enough so he could see the thin string covering your pussy that was now a darker shade of pink from your juices. “Look at you, all nice n pretty. All this for me, sweetheart?” He asked as he slipped the thin string to the side.

You nodded your head feverishly. “Yes, daddy. M’only wet f’you.” You muttered as you teased your ass into the air, pushing it towards him. He swatted your asses harshly, once, twice, before he lined himself to your entrance.

He teased his tip into you, making you groan. “Please, please, please—“ you chanted like it was a prayer. His hand snapped to your hair, leaning your head back. “You take what I give you, wife.” He muttered as he tenderly kissed your forehead.

“Yes, daddy, m’sorry.” You muttered out, gasping as you felt his cock enter you without warning. His tip kissed your cervix, and your mouth hung open, throat going dry. “Shit, so tight. Grippin’ my cock so good.” He huffed out.

“E-Elvis!” You whimpered out, the sting making your eyes water. His heart ached at the sound of you in any kind of pain. He peppered sweet kisses along your spine and on your shoulders in reassurance. “S okay, m’ gon’ take care of ya, don’t worry.” He whispered into your hair as he kissed your head.

Your stomach felt like it was doing summer salts and butterflies exploding in it all at once. You loved him more than words could ever describe and nothing in the world would ever change the way he made you feel, even 5 years deep into marriage, he still makes you fall in love with him all over again.

A wave of pleasure consumed you as you felt him re-enter you, picking up his pace at pounding into your throbbing cunt. “Elvis! Fuck! Just like that!” You moaned out.

Every time his hips slammed into yours, you released little ‘ahs’. The sound was like music to his ears. Knowing he was making you feel good, made him feel at least 20x better. If there was one thing he took pride in, it was pleasing his woman in every way he could.

“Gonna fill this lil pussy, you want that? Hm? Want me to fill you with my babies?” He asked, his hands gripped your hips. “Yes, yes, please! Need your cum in me, daddy!” You groaned.

He pulled out of you, flipping you around before re-entering you. “Wanna see you when we cum, yeah? Gon’ see ya beautiful fuckin’ face, honey.” He moaned out as he leaned down to press a kiss to your lips.

He was pussy drunken and his mind was fuzzy as your walls squeezed him in a vice grip. He didn’t know how much longer he would last. “Daddy! M’gonna cum, fuck m’gonna cum!” Your voice high pitched, and your head thrown back. Elvis brought his hand up to your neck, squeezing your throat just enough to make you see stars when it was paired with his piercing cock.

“Need you.” You whimpered out, grabbing at his free hand. A thing you did that Elvis thought was the cutest thing, and adored so much, was that every time you came on his cock, you made sure to hold his hand. It comforted you and Elvis loved it as he reached his high. “I’m right here, satin. Gon’ fill this cunt.” He said, biting his lip.

“Oh!” You moaned out as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, covering Elvis’ lower abdomen in your vile juices just as he painted the inside of your walls white with his seed.

He fucked you through your orgasm, and you could feel each time his cock spurted out a new round of cum inside of you. His balls tightening as your sweet pussy milked him, and all he could think about was how nice and round you’ll be with his babies. The perfect wife.

Your hand reached up to lovingly cup his face, leaning up to press a sweet kiss to his bitten lips.

“Happy birthday, baby.”

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

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eyesxxyou · 6 months

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❝ rough hands ❞ (rival bands!au)

｡ﾟ･ ¡ content. rival bands hobie x FTM!reader, conflicting emotions, a lot of sexual tension, a ton of mentions of hobie's hands, tw:pigs cops, being pinned down, fingering, handjob, a lot of bantering, generally just how I think sex withHobie would be, smut with a LOT of plot. the mary janes and the mutts have had a longstanding hatred for one another for years but you can't seem to resist the antics of hobie brown

wc: 4.3k

Fuck.

“They’re good.” Your drummer nudged as you and the rest of your band watched The Mary Janes perform on stage. They were opening for your performance and fuck if they weren't good at it. So much energy, such an art, you couldn't believe how fucking amazing he was on stage. Hobie Brown, the lead singer and guitarist. He was a force to be reckoned with.

You shrugged. “They're alright. Not better than us.” Your eyes narrow as they finish out their final song and Hobie takes a breath, thanking everyone for coming out. The crowd cheers, screams for him and you’re positive you can make them scream louder.

You and your band, The Mutts, move to the side as Hobie and his Mary Janes walk off stage. You catch his gaze, his smile so confident, cool, and carefree. You hate it, hate him. He doesn't say anything to you but you can see it in his eyes and the way he turns from you like he’s better than you. “You and your Mutts try to beat tha’”, his demeanor says as he walks away with his bandmates and you hate him for it.

It was a tough act to follow up. You know it as soon as you walk out on stage after your introduction. The air is hot where Hobie once stood, you can feel his energy still resonating there. You know he’s watching somewhere and you know you have to show him up for the sake of it. Your lips kiss the microphone Hobie once pressed his lips to and you hate that you can taste him there.

The crowd screamed along with the lyrics, music to your ears. How beautiful. Fucking beat that Hobie Brown.

You see him in the crowd with a drink in his hand, sipping away with a smirk on his face like something's fucking funny. If only you could slap it off his beautiful, smug face. You would as soon as you got off stage.

You and your bad breezed through your set. The crowd was alive in a way you’ve never seen before and it broke your heart to have to leave them. You turned your bass around behind your back and took a bow before thanking everyone for being such an amazing crowd for you. You watched Hobie turn and wade his way past people who slapped him on the back and feebly asked for an autograph to make his way backstage. He was undoubtedly coming just to taunt you.

As you and The Mutts came into the backstage lounge area, you departed with. “I’m going to my dressing room. I’ll see you guys in a minute.” Your drummer hummed with approval while your guitarist sent you off with a wave.

You made your way down the back all towards the dressing rooms. You opened the door only to find that Hobie was already there with his drink in hand and an insult already waiting on the tip of his tongue. “Ya slipped up there at the end. Was it cause o’ me? How unprofessional.”

“Hobie, you wouldn' know professionalism if it kicked you in the balls and told you your mother died at the same time. Get outta my face.” You sighed and reached into the pocket of your jacket for a loose lighter and a joint. You placed the joint between your lips, lit it, and took a drag. “You know whoever the club owner gives more money to tonight, he wants them to come back.”

Hobie scoffed. He sat on the mangy, gross couch as the door swung closed and you made your way over to the vanity to fix up your makeup. “O’ course ya only care ‘bout money, ‘ow contraire.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Only if yer there to kiss my arse while I do i’.”

It was usually like this. Your bands never liked each other but between them it was just glares and rough shoulder checks as the other passed. No one went at each other's throats the way you and Hobie did. You two were vicious, brutal, insults that would make the common man cry. But everyone knew better. There was a sort of camaraderie in your hatred for one another. Only you were allowed to hate him. You’d defend him with your life against someone else and in the same breath tell him his music was shit and he needed to quit.

“Either way, I’m getting that money.” Hobie settles, turning away like that’s the end of the matter. Your tongue swipes at your bottom lip before you nip it. “Says the man who plays the guitar like he can't find the clit.” You murmur and take another drag of your joint.

“Oh really?” Hobie began slowly, placing his cup down on the sticky floor before standing to his full height. He made his way over to you at the vanity, his hands grabbing the back of your chair when what he really want was to grip your shoulders, to touch you. “Would’ja like a demonstration? ‘m very good wit’ ma fingers. You know i’.” He looked at you through the mirror, leaning down so his face is next to yours.

You stare at him, search his eyes for a hint of malice or something, anything, but there's nothing but a true and genuine offer. He’d be more than happy to show exactly where your clit is.

Your lips pull into a scowl. “You’re fucking disgusting.” You say it to hide the fact that all you want is his hands on your body and those fingers to play with you the way he plays that guitar of his.

It’s the truth. You hide your burning desire for him behind your hatred, both equally as real as the other. He’s smug, shitty, sly, and sexy. You want to fuck him as much as you want to punch him, some days one more than the other.

Hobie placed his hand on your shoulders, massaging so gently. He tilted his head, placed his lips beside your ear. “Lemme know if ya ever wanna take me up on tha’ offer, dove.”

You stare at him, not sure if you want to kiss him or kill him, maybe a little bit of both. “Suck my dick, Hobie.”

“Sure, bet I can do tha’ better than ya too.”

“Get your fuckin’ hands off me and get out.”

Hobie finally relented, his hand sliding from your shoulders and back to his sides. “Fine. I’m pissin’ off. Don' forge’ ‘bout tha’ party on Saturday. Would be a damn shame if I don’ get a chance t’show ya up ‘gain.” He grabbed his drink and made his way to the door.

You couldn't stand him.

The party was already long going before you and The Mutts arrived. You were one to sniff out a good bottle of booze and went wandering to find it, your body in a perpetual state of compression by people on all sides. You wade through them with ease, leather jackets, spiked hair and all.

A proper punk party would be nothing without shitty beer and a stolen cop car to destroy.

You make your way to the center, all bats and spikes. Someone was on the hood of the car, bashing in the windshield until it completely fell through. You didn't realize it was Hobie until he hopped down from the hood and turned, grabbing the beer from your hand to take a sip. “Took ya long enough to join the party.” It seem he saw you far before you saw him.

“Can I have my shit back?” You snatched the bottle back from him. “Where the fuck did you guys get a cop car without the pigs getting on your asses?” It’s hard doing anything nowadays without the pigs sticking their ugly noses where they don't belong.

Hobie shrugged. “I ain' get i’. ‘m just here to fuck i’ up. Stop askin’ questions, are you joinin’ in or no’?”

Before either of you could do or say anything more, the car behind you was ablaze. Every window shattered, the very windshield wipers mashed through the back window, and now it was on fire. Someone had thrown a molotav cocktail inside of it and the entire thing caught on fire. Now it was a real punk party.

You figured the car would explode any time now, better to walk away before it blows and sears your eyebrows off. You take a swing from your bottle, grimacing at the bitter taste that's more akin to dog piss than anything else. Shitty bear. Proper punk.

You turn, ready to find your mates and maybe a stray joint floating around you can hog for yourself. Out in the distance you can hear the first ‘whoop’ of a police siren. You roll your eyes and finish out the rest of your beer in one gulp. “Are you fucking kidding me? I just got here.” You throw your bottle into the car fire.

The sirens come in blazing and a voice yells out that it's the cops. “Everybody scram!”

You look first for your bandmates but in a hoard like this, you’ll never find them. People are starting to run, yelling for everyone else to take off as well. They push past you while your eyes search frantically among their faces for your mates.

A hand grabs yours. You turn back to find Hobie there attempting to drag you away from where you stand in the mud. You thought he had already left, ran away with the rest of them. He was pulling you with him. “Wha’ the fuck are ya waitin’ for!?”

“My mates-”

You can see the suits approaching. They’re catching people, using batons to beat them down. They’re coming fast and you both know it. You’re panicking and Hobie’s still trying to get you to move your fucking legs.

He moves in front of you and holds your face between his large hands. “I need ya t'do me a favor and run. Ya can't help ya mates if yer dead or in a jail cell.” He pushed your shoulders, made you stumble back, snapped you out of your fixation.

You began to pick up your feet and run away. Your boots splattered in the mud, it stuck, made your feet heavier. You couldn't run as fast as normal. You’re stumbling, staggering, hands hitting the ground before pushing yourself back up. You know you’re going to get caught, it’s only a matter of time.

“I said get down!” That's all you hear before you’re tackled into the mud by an officer. He pins your arms to the Earth and you can hear the rattle of the handcuffs ready to clamp themselves down around your wrists. You try to fight but he holds just enough leverage over you that every elbow thrown was useless.

“Get the fuck off of me!” You fight because your very life depends on it. He’s smashing your face into the dirt rougher than necessary. “You’ve got nothing on me!” You writhed and kicked and screamed until suddenly the weight on you was gone and there was a thump and a grunt, a splatter in the mud.

Hobie was on top of the officer, fighting him, punching him, beating him into unconsciousness. You scrambled to your feet and watched him throw each punch with a grunt, teeth bared, eyes wild. You know if he keeps going he’ll kill the pig, not that you cared but he’d get into far more trouble than it's worth.

“Hobie, Hobie, come on.” You grabbed his hand before he could swing it down again, grabbed it besides all the blood and bruises. “They’re coming. We need to get outta here.” Your eyes plead for him to leave it alone. You couldn't care less about what happens to him, you tell yourself as much at least, but he saved you. It’s only fair and you don't like being indebted to people.

Hobie looked at you, then the cop on the ground, then back at you again. He stood and took your hand with his so gently. “Ma boat is on the dock up the way, come on.” He glanced back for a moment before the two of you began to run hand in hand. Hobie guides you out of the crowd in an entirely separate direction than everyone else. You run even though your feet ache, even though your heart is racing in your chest, even though you feel as though you can't breathe.

You only stop when you reach the dock where Hobie's boat is anchored. He leads you with bruised and battered hands to the canal boat at the end of the dock, a place where the two of you can call up your respective mates and make sure everyone is okay.

You’re covered in mud, wet, cold, shivering while you board Hobie’s boat. You wrap your arms around yourself and rock from heel to toe while Hobie shuffles about on his boat. He opens a door and looks back at you, “Ya comin’?” Your lips curled into a scowl as you let out a scoff. “I’m fine now, thanks. I can catch a cab back home.”

“Ya look like a wet dog. Come on.”

With a reluctant sigh, you follow him into his boathouse. It’s warm inside, immediately ceasing your shivering. It’s small, cozy, a bit cluttered but it’s not like your flat is any better. You hate to say that you like it but you do, you think it’s great, with his bed in front of a window that overlooks the bay.

You watch Hobie rummage about for clothes and all you can do is stare at his hands, hands that protected you, hands that fought for you, that drew blood for you. He defended you and fuck if it wasn’t hot. “I don’t need your pity.” You cover up the fact that you can feel yourself growing a little weak in the knees. If you hate him a little harder maybe it will make the feeling between your legs go away.

“No’ pity, jus’ bein’ a decent human-fuckin’-bein’,” he corrects you. “Wha’? Ya tink ‘m no’ capable of no good? I saved ya arse and ya sill bein’ a fuckin’ right cunt.” He comes close, he pokes your shoulder so hard that you move back a little, space that he closes once again.

The adrenaline is still running high. Your heart is still racing in your chest, slamming against your ribcage in a desperate attempt to claw its way out. You eat up the space between the two of you and shove him. “I only act like a cunt because you act like a dickhead!” You shove him again and he stumbles back before coming right back to you.

You breathe heavy, the both of you, staring. You keep glancing at his lips. Why do you keep glancing at his lips? Better question is why he keeps glancing at yours.

It was Hobie who leaned in and kissed you first. You could keep your dignity — keep your sanity — in knowing that you were not the one to make the first move. He kissed you hard and you kissed him back, kissed him harder. Your tongue found his lips and eagerly asked for permission for entrance. You needed him, needed his tongue against yours, need those hands that protected you against your skin.

Hobie parted his lips, let your tongue wander into his supple mouth and find his pierced tongue. It was hot, a little sloppy. You lick into his mouth and he licks into yours, your bodies pressing into the others while your slippery hands tug at each other's clothing. You swallow each breathless moan he sighs into your mouth, his hands sliding beneath your shirt. They’re cold, you shudder under his touch and he likes it. He smiled into the kiss. “Sum wrong?”

“Shut up.” You shudder out as his fingers breeze over you top surgery scars and brush your nipples that harden under his touch. His hands roam where they please, across your chest and down the curve of your back that arches with the tender touches of his fingertips. Your tongue lapped at his bottom lip, teeth nipping softly at the lip ring you spend hours staring at. “Just touch me.”

“Only touch ya?” Hobie teased with the idea. “Some heavy pettin’, yeah?”

“I’m still tryna decide if I wanna fuck you or not.”

Hobie kissed you again, tasting of piss poor beer and mint, a strange but delightful combination. “Dove, ya wanna fuck me. Ya wouldn' be here if ya didn't. Jus’ lemme treat ya good.” His hand pulled at the hem of your shirt and pulled it off of you in one swift motion. Those hands of his, they caressed your waists and hips while his lips traced a path down your neck. “Le's get rid of these clothes before ya make tha’ decision.”

You helped Hobie out of his clothes and he helped you out of yours, every piece of clothing leaving you a little hotter than the last. You trembled under his touch as he eased his hand over the band of your boxers. He slid his hand further south and cupped the mound of your pussy. “Ya ready to take me up on tha’ offer now?”

“I’ll punch you in the face.” You can’t stand his smugness but you can't say you don't like the way he pulls down your underwear then pulls down and pushes you back onto his bed. He pulls them off the rest of the way and tossed them to the side with the rest of your clothes. “Lemme give tha’ demonstration now.”

Hobie climbed onto the bed with you, on top of you. His hands protected you, his hands now tenderly caress you. His long fingers soothe down your naval and his lips kiss the curves of your scars. His body is pressed between your legs, his cock tapping your clit in just the right way to make you let out a fluttering moan.

Those hands, those hands that defended you, cupped your pussy again and his lips were on yours once more. He wanted to taste it, taste the surprise on your sweet lips when he dipped his long fingers between your supple lips and felt how wet you were. Your love let out a nice, creamy sound as he ran his fingers up and down from your wanton cunt to your aching clit.

You gasped into his mouth and Hobie took it, held it, tasted it, and loved it all in a single breath. He can't help but smile, to kiss you harder while he eased his middle finger into your lovely little cunt while his thumb rubbed circles into your firm clit. “Found ‘im, the lil shit.”

You reached between your two warm bodies, skin against skin in the best way possible, your hand sliding down his chest, his diaphragm, his naval, down to his length which rested on your belly and oozed precum onto you. You gathered up the growing little pool on your fingers and spread it across his throbbing tip, your finger circling his slit the same way he circled your rosebud.

Hobie let out something of a strangled groan into your mouth, fingers pausing for just a moment before resuming their torturous massage. “Yer sum else, y’know tha’?” He slipped his index finger in swiftly, the soft stretch making you hum sweet melodies of pleasure for him. He thumbed at your clit, swollen and pretty and begging for more, while your finger-stuffed cunt takes his fingers like it was always meant to.

You keep playing with his tip, dragging your feathery fingertips across the underside of the head, another sensitive spot that makes him react with another moan, lighter this time.

“I don't wanna have sex with you, Hobie.” You whisper like anything louder would break this precious moment. “But this isn't sex.” Not in your book.

“Hmm? Wha’cha call i’ then?”

“Heavy, heavy petting.”

Hobie can't stop himself from offering you a friendly chuckle. His fingers gently search for that sweet spot where he can get the most out of you, rubbing at your soft, gummy walls in a way that makes you arch your back and shiver. And when he finds that beautiful little spot, that spot that makes you moan his name in his ear, that makes your torture of his cock pause, he abuses it. Every thrust of his fingers, every curl, every rub targets that little soft ridge where your pleasure centers itself.

Your eyes flutter a bit. “Fuck– Hobie~ right– right there.” You tilt your hips in a way that gives him better access and it’s much appreciated. What’s even more appreciated it the way you’re softly jerking off his cockhead. The underside gently rubbing against the soft palm of your hand while your calloused fingers brush against the topside.

His hips rut. He lets out a pant, fingers still pounding away at your eager cunt. You’re both moaning into one another, soft, panting, desperate moans that feed into one another.

Hobie helped you up with a surprising amount of strength. Before you know it, your’re on top of him, his two digits still fucking your eager hole. It’s your turn to rut your hips, your legs straddling his, your hand stroking his tip so softly he might just cum right then and there.

Hobie let his free hand tenderly stroke over your soft throat, his knuckles still bruised and scabbing over. “Is this alrigh’?” The hand that nearly killed for you is so wonderfully soft for you. They rip at the guitar, they fight, they beat a man unconscious, but they’d never hurt you. You take his hand and settle it on your throat, nodding softly. You trust him, you trust him more than you like him. Punk camaraderie and all that jazz.

Hobie wraps his fingers around your neck, presses his palm against your throat gently, and kisses you again. “Ride ma fingers, yeah?” You nod again, too fucked up to come up with a witty response. You rock your hips, lifting and falling. Your hand holds his on your throat and you moan into his mouth.

Your thumb rubbed his slit and Hobie groaned. “Fuck– yeah~ jus’ like tha’. Ma good boy.” You don't even mind that he called you his because if this is what it felt like to belong to him then maybe you didn't mind it, you didn't mind it at all.

His thumb rubbed the side of your throat, his finger curled each time you fell on them, your creamy juices running down his knuckles and the defined tendons of his hands. “Fuck, messy lil ting.” His thumb rubbed your clit with vigor. You couldn't stand it. You were losing your mind.

“Please, please, please,” you babbled. “‘m gonna cum.” Your hand raced up and down the length of his cock. “You’re gonna cum with me, yeah?” You play with his tip, stroke just the head, and his cock twitches. He’s close too, you can tell.

Hobie chuckled breathlessly. “Cumming together…’ow romantic.” The baritone of his voice makes the feeling within you build. His voice, his hands, his beauty. You kissed him, suckled on his tongue before licking it. It was filthy, disgusting really and you both loved it more than either of you cared to admit.

Your body rolled with the beginnings of your climax, your pussy quivering around his lengthy digits. “Cum for me, cum for me, please.” You wanted it, needed it. Skin against skin, flesh for flesh, two pretty bodies finding the height of pleasure at the same time, together. Punk camaraderie.

Cumming at the same time was quite the intimate experience, something you’d never thought you’d share with the likes of Hobie Brown. But here he was, cumming ribbons against your chest and belly while the rest oozes down your knuckles. You're dripping down his knuckles too, only fair, just as good.

You’re seeing double, he’s seeing stars, you’re both delirious and in need of the other. Sloppy kisses and breezing sighs of relief. Wet fingers slip out of you and hold your waist while he tongues at your mouth.

Your mind felt hazy, you leaned into Hobie and let him embrace you when any other day you would have died before you let him touch you so softly. You’ve shoved each other, pinched, poked, even bit, but never embraced.

“Thank you for protecting me.” You whisper, sheepishly so. You roll off of him and onto his bed. He leaned over and laid down with you, an arm wrapped around you, his hips between your legs. “Couldn' have ya beaten or arrested now. Wha’ would tha’ make me?”

“A proper asshole.”

“A proper asshole.” He echoed. “Lemme get something to clean ya up wit’ then ya can call ya mates.” He turned your head and kissed you once again, tenderly, quickly before getting up and grabbing his underwear or was that yours? He put them on and opened a sliding door to a small bathroom.

Hobie came back, wiping his hand with a wet cloth. He used it to wipe his cum from your chest. He let you clean between your own legs, not wanting to overstep his already overstayed welcome.

“Hobie–” You began while he settled back into bed. You stood up to get whatever underwear was left and put it on. “If we’re doing…this. Let’s keep it between us. You know our mates will lose it.”

He shrugged. “Fine by me. Like ma relationships private anyway.”

“Not a relationship, dickhead.”

“Yeah yeah, whateva.” He sat up and grabbed your hand, pulling you back onto his bed with him. You land right in his hold, your flesh against his, your lips against his as well. You could do this forever.

“Stay the nigh’.” Hobie’s hand brushed your cheek. His gaze was persuasive and you were in no position to decline. You sighed, rolled away from him only to be rolled back.

“I still hate you.”

“‘m sure ya do, love. Sure ya do.”

#hobie smut #hobie x reader #hobie brown #hobie x black!reader #hobie x ftm!reader #hobie x trans!reader #hobie brown my love #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x black!reader #hobie brown x ftm!reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown smut

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jermer10 · 4 months

Note

Hey, I've got a TF2 request, if you don't mind! Mercs with a s/o who accidentally falls asleep with their head on the mercs shoulder. (Very cliche, I know...) I'll let you pick who you want to write for, no pressure! PS, I think your writing is phenomenal, and I anticipate whatever you might post next!

TF2 falling asleep on their shoulder

gn reader | ahhh tysm!! this message means so much :) i decided to write for all the mercs, hope you enjoy!!!

temperatures are in celsius

drabbles under the cut :P

Scout: "Move ova'!" Scout pushed his way onto the already overcrowded couch, disregarding the protests of the other mercs. Tonight was movie night at the red base, and he would be damned if he couldn’t use this as a moment to try and get closer to you. "Hiya toots," he flirted, stretching his right arm out to rest around your shoulders. "Hi Jeremy." You smiled and rolled your eyes playfully. Scout had been crushing on you for a while, every chaste touch and every flirty interaction had culminated in something that far outweighed any feelings he once had for Pauling. The movie had long since started, and mercs were continuing to file into the living room, squishing themselves onto the lounge or plotting themselves onto the floor. He couldn't remember the genre let alone the name of the film, all Scout could hear was the sound of his own heartbeat and the feeling of uncomfortable itchiness in his throat as you cuddled into his side. An hour in and your eyes began to grow heavy, breathing slowing in tandem. Jeremy glanced down at you, his palms moist and his face flushed as he wrapped his arm around your waist, attempting to focus on the movie and not how cute you looked like that. He was definitely asking you out in the morning.

Soldier: Everyone felt hot, sweaty, and exhausted as they slugged themselves back to the blu base. The mood hung heavy, no one seemed interested in Soldier’s usual antics - all except you, of course. You feigned a smile as he ranted about team ethic and the "American spirit", some mercs scowled at the man and others mumbled profanities and sauntered off. A light breeze came in through the afternoon air, Soldier sighed in the smell of Spring. “Hey, we should sit out here for a bit,” you squeezed Jane’s arm, pulling him towards one of the wooden benches placed just outside of the entrance to base. He felt his heart swell, not only did you want to hang out with him, but any touch from you made him absolutely crazy. “AFFIRMATIVE CUPCAKE,” Soldier responded, allowing you to lead the way. You audibly sighed as you sat down, just looking at you it was obvious you were exhausted. “Better luck next time, huh?” you joked, Soldier chuckled and stared out at the afternoon sky. You sat there together for a while, until he felt a sudden, yet small pressure on his shoulder. You had fallen asleep on him, and with anyone else he would have woken them up immediately, but you looked so peaceful and….pretty in a way? Soldier glued his eyes to the afternoon sky, he could think about these feelings later, better to let you rest after a long day.

Pyro: Being friends with Pyro was exhausting in of itself, and they knew this. But they couldn't help wanting to invite you along to their errands, you were their best friend and any time spent with you was time spent well. By the end of the day, you were both well past exhausted. "You're lucky I like you so much, otherwise I would never go on an errand run with you again." You teased, slinging an arm around their shoulders as you both trotted up the stairs to the base entrance. Pyro flushed under their mask, muffling out a "Yeah, yeah whatever, you love me." and rolling their eyes. You chuckled, opening the door to base and dragging yourselves to the living room. Pyro plopped onto the couch, sinking into the plush cushions and removing their mask. They knew the rest of the team wouldn't be back for a while, and the heat of the day had done a number to both of you. You took your seat next to them, sitting back and resting your feet on the coffee table in front of you. "Wanna watch tv?" They asked, grabbing the remote. "Yeah whatevs" You responded, yawning and stretching your arms over your head. An hour of mindless game shows, and you had passed out, head falling on their shoulder. Pyro chuckled, turning the tv down and dimming the lights. They pecked your forehead, and cuddled into you, making themself comfortable.

Demoman: Demo certainly didn’t take you as a drinker, let alone a party animal like himself! You go out for a couple drinks together after a team winning streak and manage to arrive back to base blasted out of your minds, clinging onto one another for dear life in your drunken stupor. “IIIIII LOOVE YOU DEMOOO!!!!” You proclaimed, enveloping your arms around the Scott’s neck. Grinning and face burning, he wrapped his arms around your waist, attempting to gently guide you back to your bedroom. His ongoing feelings for you had always been pushed down, and despite knowing that you were probably just super wasted and wouldn’t remember it in the morning, he didn’t want to waste possibly his only chance to spill at least some of his feelings to you. “Aye, i looove you too y/nnnn” Tavish slurred, poking your face in various places. You laughed and kissed the man on the cheek, “DAAATE ME TAAVAVVVV!!” You lamented, cupping his face in your hands. The sudden movement causing you both to topple over onto the floor of your room. Demo sat up and leant against the foot of your bed, you, laughing hysterically, joined him. Resting your head on his shoulder, your laughter dribbled off to giggles and you listened to his thundering heartbeat. "I really do like you, Tav.." You whispered, peering down at the floor, feeling a wave of tiredness wash over you. You nuzzled into his shoulder, and drifted off, leaving a beet faced Demo staring down at you.

Heavy: Visiting Heavy's home during the middle of a Russian winter was a less than ideal scenario, but the team had wanted to see what a "real winter" was like, and now here you were trudging 2 foot deep in snow towards the wooden lodge. Heavy opened the door to the sight of 9 freezing mercs, and scoffed. "Inside." He commanded. You furrowed your brows and complied, shivering from the contrast of hot air. "Drink." A mug of hot coco was given to you by the gentle giant. "T-thanks.." You mumbled, walking over to the fireplace and sitting cross legged in front of it. Most of the mercs were directed to their rooms, some lounged around in the kitchen or dining area, having quiet conversations. Heavy sat next to you, mug in hand. This was already too close to comfort for you, and he could tell. Whilst he had been crushing on you for a while, he was oblivious to whether you returned those feelings - believing that you were scared of him. But right now your tired eyes and pink cheeks said otherwise, seeking some form of comfort from the man. "Come, I will hold you to warm you up." Mikhail gave you no room for choice, and you were still freezing. You complied and scooted closer to Heavy, resting your head on his chest as he wrapped an arm around you. In an instant, you had fallen asleep, curled up on Heavy, the body heat shared between the two of you giving more warmth than the blazing heat permeating from the fireplace in front of you.

Engineer: Even after hours of battling, the match on 2fort had yet to finish. Scouts from both sides rushing for the briefcase, only to instantly die from sentry guns, Spies in disguise, or a Heavy hopped up on ubercharge. You were ready to drop, the respawn machine healing your wounds but doing nothing for your exhaustion. You knew that Dell was stationed in the intelligence room, sentry setup so anyone who trespassed would be delt with. The perfect place to catch a few z's before heading back out to the fight. "Yo Dell, can I maybe rest down here for a bit?" You implored, watching the man upgrade a dispenser. "Sure darlin'," He smiled earnestly, you gave him a look of relief. Curling up under the desk, you attempted to sleep, but the lack of cushioning made it an impossible task. Dell noticed, and gave the dispenser one last 'clonk' with his spanner before accompanying you under the table. "Here," He scootched up next to you, "You can rest on me if you'd like." You looked up at him, his cheeks felt hot. "Wow - yeah, thanks Dell." Blood rushed to your face as you situated your head on his shoulder. "Anytime, pumpkin." He muttered. Sleep was instantaneous, Engie held his breath until he was sure you were out cold, letting out a deep sigh and smiling down at the floor. How did he get so lucky?

Medic: Medic suffered long nights in the infirmary, and during those nights you would often visit him to keep him company. It was routine - you would saunter in around 9pm, sitting on the edge of the operating table, your feet barely touching the floor, chin resting in the palms of your hands as he tinkered away. He reveled in it - he had grown attached to this schedule, and by extension, you. Your mere presence made him giddy, seeing your sweet smile before he put you under anesthetics made his heart swell. The best nights were the ones where you would let him operate on you, he would be able to enact out his writings, throwing things at the wall and seeing what stuck. Then, you'd either walk out around 3am, or respawn from a botched surgery, and go to bed. Tonight, however, you had proven to be far too tired for a surgery, let alone a full night of softly rambling to Ludwig about whatever crossed your mind. You had pulled up the operating chair and sat next to him, eyes flickering between him and the notes he had been writing in his medical book, slowly drifting off. Your head fell on his shoulder, fast asleep. Medic peered down at you from over his glasses, breathing a lovestruck sigh. Maybe these were the best nights.

Sniper: The middle of the day in Sniper's van was akin to hell. The air smelt stale, windows wide open, no aircon, just the both of you sweaty, sticky, and half clothed. This would usually have embarrassed the two of you, but the 40 degree weather and sound of the other mercs outside attempting to cool off using a singular hose had you both choosing to stay indoors, not wanting to get involved in the argument currently taking place between Demo and Soldier. Heat fogged your brain, you felt so tired, your body sweat all of your energy out. "Fuck, why couldn't you get an AC installed?" You groaned, lazily shutting your eyes and fanning your face with your hand. Sniper shrugged, and despite not being able to see the motion, you scoffed. "Dunno," Mick responded nonchalantly. He trailed off, seemingly succumbing to the same heat induced exhaustion you were fighting with. You opened your eyes slightly, confirming your suspicions that Sniper had also closed his. Arms crossed, head pointing downwards, God, he looked so comfortable. Mick could tell what you were thinking, and he wanted nothing more than to cuddle up to you, but he couldn't bring himself to move. You were close like that, almost reading one another's minds at times. So you made the first step, sliding over to him and laying your head on his shoulder. Sniper was uncomfortably hot, yet refusing to move an inch as you slept on him. Eventually, he couldn't help but nod off alongside you.

Spy: The drive back from your mission was excruciating. Sniper and Medic sat in the driver and passenger seats respectively, the only sound was the droning radio hosts on the van's radio. You had failed, and you knew Spy was seething from the loss. You, however, were so tired you couldn't even stand. Partially from the bullet lodged in your calf, partially from the athlete level running you had to do in order to get back to the van after the high elected government official had caught you in the act attempting to steal nuclear launch codes. Spy was the one to snatch the codes, but you had still been seen, and that in of itself was a failure. Incidentally, Spy had been the one to offer you aid once you were safely in the van. Your arm draped around his shoulders, wincing at the sharp pains running up your leg. As much as he tried to hate you, he just....couldn't. You were too sweet, too kind. So, he opted instead to blame Medic and Sniper for being unable to damage control the situation better. You were slipping in and out of consciousness, head slowly rocking towards Spy's shoulder, and then awkwardly leaning back towards the wall of the vehicle. "Rest your head on me, mon cher. Otherwise you are going to break your nose." He grunted. In an instant you had passed out on him, breathing in the strong scent of cigarettes and expensive cologne. He sighed a breath of relief, enjoying your gentle pressure on his side. Smitten was an understatement.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 scout #tf2 soldier #tf2 pyro #tf2 demoman #tf2 heavy #tf2 engineer #tf2 medic #tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #tf2 fanfiction #tf2 imagines #tf2 x reader #tf2 x you #ask #jermer10 #fluff #tf2 fluff

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undead-supernova · 3 months

Text

I'll Pay the Price, You Won't.

Miss Heartbreak

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3

Masterlist

This chapter is based off of Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince by Taylor Swift and I'm starting to realize just how in deep I am in the lore and storytelling of her music. See if you can find my easter eggs, hm?

plot: no cameras catch my muffled cries...you are the only one who seems to care...this is a fight that some day we're gonna win

Pairings: modernrockstar!Eddie x fem!popstar!Reader (curvy!reader, bisexual!reader)

Warnings: slut shaming, body image insecurities, public shaming, crying

easter egg count: 43

wc: 5.3k

When you first realized you were in love with him, it was a Saturday night. You weren’t even with him. In fact, you were at a house party with some of your best friends. They weren’t famous—these three girls were in college, just the way you should’ve been. You’d met them at a dive bar in Pittsburg while touring.

There was a distinct memory of watching these girls walk in, talking about their English courses and the ten-page research papers on the feminist lens of the works of Octavia Butler, rape culture in a novel called Waiting for the Barbarians, and how the third girl was doing some deep dive into the coded lesbianism in Gertrude Stein’s Tender Buttons. You approached them, desperate to know more about their class. Their studies. Their college experiences.

Desperate to know more about the life you gave away when your career blew up three days before moving into your dorm room.

They knew who you were, but they didn’t care to squeal or ask for pictures. Instead, they motioned for you to join them and started to complain about their shared Rhetorical Analysis class. And after a few Fireball shots, some poor attempts at karaoke, and loud debates about Jane Austen and Emily Brontë that nearly got you kicked out, you were solidified.

But there you were, at a college house party after flying out just to see them. You were in drastically different makeup than you were used to. In short, you were basically in Eddie Munson cosplay. Your friends had dressed you up, giggling and adding more charcoal eye shadow than you desired. Becky, Mary, and Este swore it would make you feel better. That you’d dance the night away without a care in the world.

But the couch was where you stayed the whole night, a mimosa (filled with more prosecco than orange juice) in your hands as you watched life exist around you. You were pretending to be a normal twenty-two year old girl. You were pretending that you could have love affairs with anyone you wanted to and if your heart got broken every single time, it wouldn’t be such a big deal to anyone outside of your friends that loved you.

And he would be there, too.

With your head to rest on his shoulder, listening to him talk about his Dungeons and Dragons game he hosted with the rest of the band when they were tucked away in hotel rooms. They were too big to go out without everyone and their mother following them, so they found a way to escape.

(People thought they did drugs and partied. And, at the start of the band, they did. Eddie had told you about having a coke problem in the beginning and Gareth, Jeff, and Grant trashing hotel rooms. Ronnie getting the cops called on her house regularly for the outrageous parties she hosted. But it died out after about a year when they realized how tiring it was to just be on all the time. They went to parties sometimes, but now they really looked forward to smoking a few joints and playing a fantasy game.)

In this fictional scenario, they’d congregate in the communal rooms at their dorm. They’d buy a few pizzas and beer, remembering to get the garlic twists of course, and play for six hours.

And you would lean over to his ear, brushing your lips against his ear and say, “I’m in love with you.”

As soon as it fell into your imagination, you were startled to the point of springing up and running to the bathroom, hyperventilating in the mirror. The rest of your night had been spent with your friends cuddling you in their shared apartment until you could calm down.

“It’s too soon for this!” you exclaimed. “It’s too soon for me to fall in love.”

They said that it was fine. That you were allowed to love him. That the chance at love was worth the bullshit. You could survive this, even if he didn’t feel the same. Maybe you would be able to connect better if you just told him how you felt.

But this was only a month after you started seeing each other.

Only a week before you two were caught in public together.

Only a week before the whole world had an opinion.

“I can’t believe we’re out at a restaurant in Manhattan of all places.”

“On a date,” he noted.

“On a date.”

“Oh, and happy four-month anniversary,” he said while holding up his piece of bread, leaning over to tap yours with it.

“Ah, yes. How could I forget?” you teased before stuffing the slice in your mouth, closing your eyes as you became overwhelmingly calmed by the taste of butter melting on your tongue.

It was super late on a Saturday, one of the only times you could get away with having a private dinner without the threat of paparazzi and lingering glances. You felt fancy, with a sparkly silver dress on, all short with thin straps and a small slit at the thigh. Tall, sparkly silver heels that made you nearly the same height as him. A fluffy pink faux fur coat sitting on the back of the chair (that Eddie had spent the whole drive here running his hands through). Pink nails to match, already chipped from your nervous picking.

Eddie was dressed beautifully, wearing a silk white button down. Simple black blazer and slacks. His signature boots. Those rings. That necklace. Hair up in a bun with bangs and stray hairs framing his face. The only real nontraditional part of his ensemble was a thin layer of black eyeliner adorning his eyelids and waterline, with mascara to match.

Oh, and a coat of lipgloss, lipgloss that he borrowed from you, that was now lining the rim of his wine glass.

“Do you like it?” he asked. “The wine, I mean.”

You looked down at the burgundy liquid you were absentmindedly swirling. You had no clue what that did for the drink or if it was just to look fancy, but it was something you saw your parents do growing up. You decided to take a crack at being an adult tonight, just to see how it felt.

“Yeah, it’s nice. Thank you.”

He nodded, but you could tell that he was still nervous about the whole thing. You couldn’t blame him. Being out for an official date together in the heart of a city with nearly nine million people who could ruin it at any second was quite a heavy burden. There was a part of you that feared that you had become a burden in the last four months.

Enough of that, you tried to tell yourself.

“However,” you added. “I do have to confess that I have absolutely no clue what the difference is between this and the stuff I get at the grocery store.”

Eddie let out a sigh and a breathy laugh. You wondered how long he’d been holding it in. “Well, that’s a relief because I was literally sitting here thinking the exact same thing.”

You couldn’t help but giggle. “Are you serious?”

He kept laughing. “Yes! I thought I was the only one!”

“No, this is literally exactly how I feel whenever I have dinner with some of the label execs,” you exclaimed. “They order all this like crazy expensive wine, and I have to just sit there and be like,” you raised the pitch of your voice, “Oh, wow. This is sooo cool. So good. What year is it? That must cost a fortune.”

Eddie nodded. “Me, too! And it’s like: Dude, seriously? I could get shit I like better than this at, like, Trader Joe’s or Target. Fuck, even Walmart.”

You giggled as you continued to nod with him. “Yes, yes, yes! I genuinely don’t get it. Everyone is so pretentious, I swear.”

“I wholeheartedly agree.” Eddie raised his glass. “Fuck ‘em.”

You grinned. “Fuck ‘em!” you agreed, clinking your glass with his before you took a hearty sip. Finally took a second glance around the room.

“I really thought there’d be more people here,” you observed. “Isn’t this, like, a popular restaurant? I hear celebs love this place.”

“I maaaay have bought out the empty tables,” Eddie admitted, looking sheepish. “I didn’t want our first official date to be bombarded with people we know or even ones we don’t. I wanted to make sure I could focus.”

A grin met your lips. “You’re a sweetheart, you know that?”

“That’s you, baby. That’s all you.”

The playful dinner conversation continued with a whole three course meal plus dessert. You came alive in public for once, talking in silly voices and laughing as loud as you wanted. Like you were best friends. Like you were lovers. Holding Eddie’s hand at the table without having to worry about cell phones. No one here was able to take away what was yours.

Despite feeling full, you couldn’t help but nibble on some more of the bread. Your personal trainer, Mary, forbid you from eating any while you were gearing up for another album release and tour. But you were starting to care a little bit less. And she wasn’t here. Eddie was, pushing the basket towards you.

But then the strangest thing happened as the waiter took your dinner plate.

As he turned to leave, you looked past him and saw that the other five occupied tables in the restaurant were…staring. And…so were their waiters? Had everyone finally started staring or were you only now noticing? But you would’ve noticed before…

They were all looking from their phones to you and then back again. The hushed whispers were getting a bit louder, even catching Eddie’s ears. He turned his head to look but was distracted when his phone started ringing.

Gareth.

“Take it,” you encouraged. Eddie raised an eyebrow. “It’s probably important.”

He nodded. “Hey,” he said as he answered. “No, I’m on an incredibly important date, remember?”

As you spread butter over the last slice, you couldn’t help but giggle when Eddie looked up at you with a quick wink and a smile meant only for you.

But then his eyebrows narrowed.

“What’re you doing watching cable?”

And a part of you wished you could hear the other side of the conversation when you watched Eddie’s neutral expression falling into anger.

“They what?”

“It’s fucking SNL. They haven’t had a good run in years. I don’t think anyone even watches—”

You noticed him get cut off before shaking his head.

“What? Why the fuck do people care?”

“Fuck…yeah, okay… Sure, whatever…” He sighed, pinching his nose in frustration. “No, I’m not mad at you. Promise… I’m sorry for being a dick. I just hate people, I swear…” A quick nod. “Thanks for understanding and letting me know. Love you, dude. Okay, talk later.”

“What’s wrong?” you asked as he immediately started searching for something on his phone. “Is everything okay?”

Eddie paused, looking away from his phone to bring his attention back to you.

His expression held something resembling an apology.

“The guys are watching TV back at the hotel and, uh, they were watching SNL…”

“Okay?”

“Apparently they did a skit about you.”

Your stomach dropped as you let his words sink in.

It was one thing to have random people on the internet give you shit. It was another thing entirely for a long-running, highly known television show to have grown adults portray you and spend four to six minutes making fun of you. Especially when you’d performed there merely two months ago.

“Is it…” you trailed, almost unable to speak.

“Yeah,” Eddie said. “Yeah, it’s bad.”

“It’s on YouTube already?” He nodded. “Let me see.”

“Are you sure you want to watch it?”

You nodded. “I should know what’s going on. Everyone’s already staring at us,” you stated, gesturing behind him.

When Eddie looked back at every nameless face watching you, every single person looked away. Like he commanded the room with his presence. Like he had the power to change the world with just one stare.

He had changed your world with just one glance.

Sighing, Eddie clicked on the video, holding it between you two on the table.

“I decided to go on The Bachelorette to prove that I haven't dated everyone,” a woman said with a huge grin, mimicking the way you smiled. "And to get new inspiration because I need to sell my next album. I'm sure this will be fun."

Some new addition to the cast tried to imitate your posture. Your voice. Your everything. She was acting like you were some ditsy girl. Did people really think of you like this? Is this how the cast and crew saw you when you were there?

A fake announcer's voice said, “Here are the men and women chosen for tonight.”

The woman impersonating you smiled even wider in a comedic fashion, making fun of the way you, what, didn't ever give a negative reaction? The camera turned to watch everyone file in.

The different men and women of the SNL cast rotated, pretending to be people you’d allegedly been with. But most of them were wrong. When you were rumored to be dating these people, friend or not, they left, either from wanting that clout or being unable to handle the noise. All you had wanted were real friendships, real relationships. But being burnt at the stake came with the possibility of flammable embers.

One after the other, impression after impression, they were reminding you of everyone you’d lost.

And was that Jacob Elordi pretending to be…Christopher Briney?

(You met Christopher once at the Emmy’s, having taken one fucking photo together before he was whisked away by his team. At the time, you had only wished he would notice you before he got a girlfriend…)

“We're missing one guy...where is he?” the announcer said.

Mikey Day popped in with a smoke machine behind him and some copyright free rock music playing, wearing a curly wig and pretending to be Eddie. The audience lost their minds, erupting in applause and laughter at the sheer mention of him. He was immediately stereotyped as a punk stoner who only pretended to listen to you talk while playing his guitar.

“Hey, babe,” he said, trying to mimic Eddie’s voice. “What’s up?”

You looked over at the real Eddie who looked less than impressed. Less than affected by someone trying to make fun of him. You wished you could say the same for yourself.

“I CHOOSE HIM FOR MY NEXT ALBUM!” the woman shouted before ripping up the roses and walking over. However, she turned and pointed at the others. "Save them for me in case I get bored.”

As she grabbed onto "Eddie's" arm and professed her love, it was clear that he wasn't paying attention. "Are you even listening to me?" she shouted.

“Nah, baaabe,” he said and then realized his “mistake”. Cue laughter. “I’m totes paying attention.” Laughter. “Just practicing this sick riff for the band.” He raised his guitar before turning it the other way. “Does it look cool this way, babe?” Laughter ensued as he pretended to play his guitar right-handed. “Do I look metal as hell?”

“Totally, babe,” the woman said, giggling. “You’re so hot.”

“Ah, babe, thanks. I know it’s been three minutes but this is forever, babe.”

When the skit ended, Eddie turned it off and shoved his phone in his pocket.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry—”

“It’s okay,” you said, trying to tell yourself more than him. “It’s okay. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Did anyone see what was happening? That this was starting to get out of hand? It was like nobody gave a shit, nobody cared that you were human. Yes, you were privileged and had money, you knew that. You grew up fucking poor, hit even worse with the 2008 recession, hardly ever recovering.

You always acknowledged your privilege, always made it a point to give it away to people who needed it more than you. Provided for your family so your parents didn’t have to go back to working at the sawmill and being fucking tour guides for next to nothing at Graceland. (The fucking irony.) Donated constantly to animal shelters, women’s shelters, LGBTQIA+ youth organizations, etc. etc.

But no one would know any of that because you kept that secret. Kept it hidden to be the face of your label, with a shiny pageant smile. You were now the punching bag, the reflection of society that every YouTuber did deep dives on and now SNL was taking a shot at.

When would it end?

“Are you?” Eddie asked, causing you to come out of the fog. “‘Cause your hands are shaking.”

You looked down, realizing he was right. “I—”

Before you could say anything, your own phone buzzed. Looking down, you noticed a text from Becky. It was a link to a video on Twitter or X or whatever the fuck it was called now. Her text read,

Look how delusional the internet is. I don’t care about this crap but I wanted to make sure you knew what was going on before you got bamboozled or something. Also, fuck that SNL skit. Love you.

“There’s more,” you murmured, looking up at Eddie’s concerned expression.

“Fuck.”

He stood up immediately and pulled over the chair next to you. He sat and leaned in, just as deep into this as you were. You didn’t hesitate to click on the link. It was just another band-aid to rip off anyways.

The caption said:

are gareth ronnie and grant next? lmao eddie shouldn’t have gone anywhere near her. the vibes are soooo off

You heard Eddie scoff as he read it.

The video attached was of you and Jeff walking around New York City that very morning, laughing together. You nudged his arm, animatedly talking.

You knew what had happened, distinctly remembering that the conversation was about Eddie. Jeff had been teasing you, telling you that he knew you were disgustingly in love with him and that you needed to just say it before you lost your minds. You thought it was funny, so you jokingly nudged his arm and pretended to threaten violence. That was it. Nothing else happened.

“No!” you exclaimed, wild-eyed as you turned to Eddie. “No, Jeff and I went to get this chocolate mousse at this little bistro we both like. We told you before we left, remember? I swear it was the truth. We were literally talking about you. Eddie, I—”

“It’s all good, sweetheart,” Eddie interrupted, kissing your temple four times. “Don’t worry about it, okay? It’s okay. I believe you. I know you’d never do anything like that.” You felt yourself breathe again. “Besides, Jeff has a crush on our tech manager anyways.”

That made you chuckle for a second, but you felt yourself deflate, putting a hand on your forehead as tears trickled down your cheeks. “I’m scared. I don’t like this, Eddie.”

“Me neither.”

Before you could say anything else, your waiter was approaching the table.

“Is there anything else I can get for you?” the waiter asked, hands politely clasped in front of him. You avoided his gaze, embarrassment flooding your system. There was something irrational telling you that he would tell the internet about your breakdown, expose you for your reaction.

But when you glanced at him, he actually looked…concerned.

“Yeah, could we get the check, please?” Eddie asked in a hushed voice, running his fingers down your back. “We’re gonna need a minute, but I just wanna get that out of the way.”

“Of course, Mr. Munson.” he responded before turning to you. “I can take that plate for you if you’d like?”

“Oh, yes, sorry,” you said, sniffling.

Without thinking, you moved your hand to grab your bread plate, accidentally knocking your glass on the table. You watched as the wine seeped into the white cloth, staining the fabric.

Eddie was quick to grab the glass before it shattered on the floor.

“Oh, shit,” you muttered, taking your napkin and trying to blot the stain. You kept glancing up at the waiter through your tears. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. That’s so rude of me. I’m so sorry.”

The waiter shook his head. “It’s okay, ma’am. We have a hundred more in the back. This happens all the time.”

“Here,” you said, shaking your head as you rummaged through your purse. When you found your wad of cash, you handed him a one-hundred-dollar bill. “Take this. For you, not the restaurant. I’m so sorry.”

He gaped at you, looking down at the bill before looking back up. “Um, thank you,” he said, breaking his customer service voice before taking the cash from you. “I’ll get everything sorted for you right away.”

“Sweetheart.”

“I want to leave,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “Can we leave?”

You looked over at Eddie who was already standing and grabbing your coat.

“Yeah, baby,” he said softly. “I’ll pay up front. Come on, let’s go.”

But it wasn’t really going to be that simple, was it?

As soon as you reached the front doors, James and Scott, your personal bodyguard, were stopping you.

“Guys, uh, we got a situation,” Scott said, mainly looking at you.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“There’s a fuck ton of paparazzi out there.”

“And that’s the only way we can get to the car,” James added.

You wanted to look at Eddie, but you didn’t want him knowing just how scared you were. He was so stoic and strong, always being able to shrug everything off. It was like he was born for this.

Maybe you weren’t.

“Okay,” Eddie said, putting his shoulders back before grabbing your hand. His grasp was firm with a gentle squeeze that left your heart soaring despite the fear. He nudged your arm, causing you to look up. “Ready, sweetheart?”

You nodded, looking back at James and Scott, tear stains still adorning your cheeks. “I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

A gasp left your mouth as the doors opened and a swarm of people with cameras crowded around you. Flashes and red recording lights and cell phones. Screams, gasps. Some fans tried to catch your attention the best they could, but their voices were drowned out by the incessant vultures. James and Scott were on either side of you, pushing people out of the way.

But it did nothing. It only sprung more tears.

Paparazzi shouted your name. Shouted Eddie’s.

“What did you think of the SNL skit?”

“Any comment on the cheating allegations?”

“Is this thing between you serious?”

They were all variations of the same thing.

Except for one voice that stood out from the rest.

“Hey, why are you crying?”

You turned, seeing a teenage girl who looked barely fourteen, maybe fifteen, with rainbow braces and friendship bracelets in her hand. She stood next to who you presumed to be her mother, over by the curb. Set apart from the hive.

Despite your better judgment, you nudged Scott and walked over to her quickly.

“I want to talk to her,” you told him loudly, disconnecting your hand from Eddie’s.

Scott nodded. “You got maybe a minute and a half before things get buckwild.”

“She’s got this,” Eddie said. You looked at him and smiled.

Thank you, you mouthed before rushing over to the girl.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Just got a lot going on, hun,” you said softly, trying to smile but your tears clouded your vision. Your only hope was that the sight wouldn’t scar her for the rest of her life. “What’s your name?”

“Caroline,” she said before handing you the bracelets. “I made these for you.”

Her mom placed a hand on your shoulder, causing you to look up. “She’s been keeping them with her just in case she ever saw you in the city. She’s a big, big fan.”

You could only try to smile again, studying the colors Caroline chose to represent your last few albums. Light blue to represent your self-titled album. A soft sage for your second, “Tetris”. Sparkling gold for your last album, “Acacia My Dear”. There were even one or two that had references to inside jokes shared between you and the fans.

“These are beautiful,” you told her, immediately rolling them onto your wrist. “Thank you so much, Caroline.”

“Could I get a picture of you two?” her mom asked.

“Hey,” Scott interrupted. “Sorry, we gotta cut this short. They’re pressin’ in on us.”

You nodded, looking back at Caroline. “Thank you so much, Caroline. This means everything to me,” you said honestly. Without thought, you gave her a tight hug. “You just made everything better,” you whispered in her ear.

When you pulled back, her mom grabbed your hand. “You’re doing great things,” she said, softly squeezing your hand. “Don’t let those bastards win.”

Before you could even process her words or thank her, Scott was pulling you back to Eddie. Scott seemed a little softer, blonde hair still peppering with gray. He was from Tennessee, like you, his accent just noticeable enough to give him away. James seemed to contrast him, with thick muscles, frown lines across his forehead, and a bald head. Oh, and did you mention that he was a hardass from Ireland?

Your grasp on Eddie’s hand tightened with every passing second before you were finally enclosed in the confines of the black van.

The walk to the car was only, what, two minutes? Three?

But it felt like forever.

The waterworks continued, wracking your body with sobs you didn’t realize were just brewing behind the façade you were able to put up on any given occasion.

Scott took the driver’s seat while James took shotgun. You could just barely make out what they were whispering.

“Fucking vampires, the lot of ‘em,” James said, shaking his head.

“Them two deserve better,” Scott replied. “They’re just fucking kids.”

Eddie pulled you into his side, making sure you were hidden from any and all intrusion even if the windows were severely tinted.

You had an urge, however miniscule it felt, to go on your Instagram story and be bitter about it. Tell SNL to fuck off and remind them how sexist and gross it was to put you in a sketch just to make fun of your dating history when there were men around you who ran through women like sport and talked about them like each one was a momentary fad.

But you knew what would happen. You would be considered overreacting. You’d be a woman scorned and laughed at for caring so much despite the rest of the fucking internet seeming to care more.

So, you did nothing. Said nothing.

You merely curled yourself further into Eddie and fought the urge to have a mental breakdown.

“We’re getting out of the city,” he whispered. “Back to your place.”

“It’s a long drive,” you mumbled.

“I don’t mind. Really. We made the drive out here, remember?” Eddie shook his head. “Speaking of, I’m sorry. I should’ve chosen somewhere more secluded.”

“You shouldn’t have to. We shouldn’t have to.”

He leaned back, tilting your chin up to make eye contact with you. “I want you to feel safe.”

“But I want us to be normal people going to a normal restaurant and have a normal date.”

“We’ll win this fight, okay?” he said, tracing his thumb along your cheeks as the tears came and went. “They have to get bored soon enough, yeah? TikTok will move on to its next viral bullshit anytime now. We just have to wait it out.”

“It’ll just go away?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.” Both you and Eddie let out a sigh. “Listen, okay? Just listen to me. We’ll figure this out. I’ll tell the world to fuck off. Just give me the word and I’ll do it.”

“That’ll just egg them on.”

He kissed your wet cheek. Pulling back, you could see the color return to his face as he smiled. “I could always pull an Ozzy.”

That got a giggle out of you, a few snot bubbles awkwardly falling down your lips. Eddie didn’t mind, simply grabbing a tissue to help wipe it away.

“Absolutely do not do that,” you said with a sigh, grabbing another one.

“Then I won’t. But I’m here in front of you. I want you. I need you.”

You nodded, your eyes glassy and wild as you tried to stop crying.

“Alright, babe?” he exaggerated, imitating Mikey Day. “I’m metal as hell, babe.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. It was ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. You looked up at him, watching a playful grin meet his lips.

“Oh, yeah, babe,” you played along, still wiping your tears. “You’re sooooo hot, babe.”

Eddie nearly suffocated you with another hug, rapidly kissing the top of your head. You couldn’t help but giggle again, feeling some weight lifting off of you. For the first time, you had someone in your life who was blocking out the noise.

“You know, the jokes aren’t even funny,” he said. “I don’t know why they’re making fun of a right-handed guitar. Jimi Hendrix had one and that guy’s a legend.”

“I think the point was to make you look dumb by playing it upside down.”

“Mmmm, I don’t think so, babe,” he teased. “I’m, like, sooooo smart.”

“You’re soooo right, babe.” “Okay, I’m cutting us off. I just know we won’t stop talking like this.”

The laughter died out, silence ensuing. Eddie was fiddling with your bracelets, his touch settling the storm in your stomach.

“Why did you walk over to that girl?”

You thought about her, Caroline, and how she was the only one outside to ask if you were okay. All she wanted was to give you bracelets. Had been keeping them with her just in case she ever saw you. Fuck, if that wasn’t one of the most shocking things you’d ever heard from a fan. It was kind. And when she did see you, she cared more about how you were feeling.

“She asked me why I was crying,” you said. “She actually cared. It meant something to me.”

“You really love the fans, don’t you?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

The night seemed to settle into comfortable silliness, ending with pints of Ben & Jerry’s and the start of another TV show for you two to binge. You settled into his side with fuzzy socks and old pajamas from before all of the bullshit ensued. They were probably ten years old, from the thrift store down the street from your childhood home. The hand-me-downs that never seemed to get holes, the ones that always seemed to save you from the brink of madness.

Eddie was donning a similar outfit, just with a few holes here and there. Baseball tee with a logo for his old D&D group, Hellfire Club, back in high school. Some of the lines were starting to crack, the red fading into something nearly blood orange.

It was comforting to know that Eddie was able to shrug it all off. That he was able to guide you through this fear and loathing. But some part of you wondered how long that could last. All the heat and dismissal and scrutiny and humiliation. All the assumptions and poking.

Because if he wanted to do this, if he was in it for the long haul, this was going to be how it was for the rest of your careers, for the rest of your lives. He wasn’t going to be able to shrug everything off. What happens when he’s poked at? When he’s the one in your shoes?

And as you laid there at 2am with Eddie fast asleep next to you, you were starting to wonder about yourself. Because if you wanted to do this, if you wanted to follow wherever he led, you were going to have to endure. Watching him sleeping soundly, you couldn’t help but wonder how long you could last.

#Eddie munson #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #modern!eddie munson #modern!eddie x reader #Eddie Munson x female reader #boyfriend!eddie munson

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cxsmicbaby · 11 months

Text

devour - 4

CHAPTER FOUR OF A SERIES

chapter 01 ; chapter 02 ; chapter 03

pairing : miguel o’hara x fem!reader

warnings : filthy smut. like. yeah. this chapter is basically just smut with an intro. enjoy!

word count : 6k (lol)

a/n : this chapter is definitely long!!! might be the final chapter, but i’m debating writing another... let me know if you think it’s good to end here!

miguel thought you leaving would get rid of his feelings, but it only made things worse. he comes to you and tries to make it right.

𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪

Contrary to popular belief, Miguel is not actually against having a good time. Once in a while, at least. Sure, he’ll grumble and pretend like he doesn’t want to go whenever Peter B. drags him over to his universe for the night, but in reality it’s his favorite part of the month. They sit on Peter’s couch and drink whiskey, talking, telling stories, even laughing. It’s a part of Miguel that not many are allowed to see.

Peter makes him comfortable, relaxed, states of being that are foreign to him. Miguel could say just about anything to him and it’d roll off his back, like water on oil. And that makes him think of you, and how you remind him of Peter in some ways. But then he thinks about the things he’s said to you, about how he dug deep enough to make his words actually puncture, and he feels a heavy weight resting on his shoulders.

“Hey,” Peter interjects, cutting through the thick fog that surrounds him as he is unable to think of anything but you. “You okay?”

At first, Miguel was relieved that you’d gone, because in your absence he was able to focus, to get things done, to quiet the whispers of the others who had noticed his... favoritism. But then one evening, he lied down and realized he was very, very hungry. He remembered that on some days, the only thing he could find time to eat were the empanadas you delivered him, and now that you were gone, he was spending the day working on an empty stomach. From there it spiraled and Miguel was now able to focus even less than he had been when you were around. Not to mention, Hobie had refused to participate in anything until you returned, which he had expected. It was really the least of his worries, but Jess seemed very annoyed by it. He’d have to take care of that, too.

Miguel has to take care of a lot of things, he thinks, as he finishes the last droplets of whiskey in his glass. He sighs heavily and places it on the coaster he insisted to use; Peter didn’t seem to care about stains on the wooden table, but Miguel knew Mary Jane would. Just because she wasn’t here at the moment didn’t mean he wouldn’t still respect her wishes.

“I’m fine,” he finally says, though he knows his voice is not at all convincing. He doesn’t want Peter to ask about it, but deep down he does want to talk. Talk about you, and the concerning amount that he seemed to miss you.

Peter scoffs. “Man, come on. Everyone knows you’re upset about what happened.”

Miguel feels his blood running a little hot with the alcohol in his system, and instead of glaring at his friend and coming up with something that will shut this down, he only purses his lips. “It’s what was best for everyone.”

An odd sort of glimmer shows in Peter’s eyes before it’s gone, just as soon as it appeared. “For everyone? So, that includes you, and her, right?”

He’s got him there. Miguel almost laughs.

“I...” he trails off, unsure how to really continue without sounding stupid or too vulnerable. “It doesn’t matter.”

“No? So, you’ve been doing fine without her around, then. Getting lots done, I hope.”

Usually, Miguel would find himself annoyed by Peter’s sarcasm, but this time he actually manages a small smile, before he shakes his head. “Yes, actually. Well, I was.”

Peter pours himself another drink, and Miguel nods toward his glass to tell him that he would definitely like one as well.

“Until...?”

The brown liquid fills the space around the ice cubes and Miguel reaches for it, taking a sip large enough that anyone normal would be plastered right now. But Miguel’s always had a high tolerance, and that on top of the Spider-man enhancements makes it difficult for him to get even a little drunk.

“Until... I don’t know. But now I can’t stop... thinking about her. It’s making me furious.” The confession hangs in the air for a moment as Miguel stares at the drink, sloshing it around gently to alleviate some of the tension. Peter chuckles, leaning back in his chair.

“You know, it would be easy enough to visit her. Just to see how she’s doing.”

Miguel’s eyes shoot up to meet Peter’s and he almost slaps him across the face. He has been thinking of that option, knowing it’s a bad idea, knowing he would be better off just leaving you alone. But now the possibility is out in the air and Miguel knows that no matter what is said or done in the next hour, even if he promises himself he will not, he is going to see you.

“Mm. Just to see how she’s doing,” Miguel repeats, taking a sip. He looks at Peter over the rim of the glass to see he’s got a smug smile on his face. Typical.

The house is a little chilly. Peter seems not to care about his electricity bill, he’s always got the air conditioner running. Miguel is fidgeting in his seat a little as he listens to his friend, because now the idea has burrowed into his head and he can’t think of anything else. He wonders what you’re doing right now. Are you happy? How angry are you with him? How hurt?

When the clock hits midnight Miguel has left Peter’s house and gone home. He sets an alarm for tomorrow, knowing that if he wants to see you he must do it early enough that no one questions his absence. The alcohol lulls him to sleep, and again, he dreams of you.

𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪

The sanctum has everything except good lighting. On a good day, the sun shines brightly through the stained glass windows and the entire place is washed in color. It’s like living in a painting.

Since I’ve come home, it’s been raining nonstop. So, today is a bad day, and on a bad day entering the sanctum feels like entering an abandoned castle. It’s dark and grey, and all the artifacts and portraits of sorcerer’s past are watching me. When I walk, my footsteps echo, and since the soles of my shoes are wet with rain they squeak against the polished wooden floor.

“Hello?” I call, knowing Strange is here somewhere, probably waiting for the moment to make his dramatic entrance. You know, slowly descend from above with his stupid cape floating behind him. Or maybe he’ll step out of a portal right in front of me. One time he just went for the easy route, sneaking up behind me fast enough that my spidey-sense didn’t catch him. Prick.

That’s funny. No response, which means he’s either actually left to do god knows what, or he’s just ignoring me. It’s taken me a week to actually make myself come see him, so maybe he’s forgotten all about his letter. Oh well. If Strange is giving me a free out, I’ll take it.

Before I can turn on my heels, though, the hairs stand up on my neck. Someone is here, and it’s not Strange, unless he’s decided to be extra dedicated to his theatric arrival. No, it’s not him. It’s something that feels sinister, darker, and immediately I think of the worst. Has someone infiltrated the sanctum? Is Stephen okay? Any thoughts regarding the day I’ve had are replaced by the mantra I always repeat to myself in these situations; If I can help, I will. I have to.

I keep still, only moving my head to look in both directions for anything I might’ve missed. Any sign of forced entry, of a struggle; but I find nothing. When the sense of dread doesn’t get any worse, I shoot a web at the wall upstairs and land stealthily, trying not to make my shoes squeak.

The feeling grows more palpable. Someone is definitely here, and they’re close by. They might even be watching me. I ready myself, my fists itching to move at my sides—they ache with a reminder of a particularly tough fight I got into earlier today with a thief who just wouldn’t give up. Usually, petty criminals are a cakewalk, but this guy must’ve studied karate or something. I went a little harder on him than I should’ve, but with all the pent up emotion it’s difficult to reign myself back in. I’m sure a video will go viral later of me absolutely beating on the poor guy, but I’m also sure that I couldn’t care less.

I wait silently, trying to remain perfectly still, staring down the hallway that leads to Strange’s office. And then I feel it, suddenly; my blood freezes for a moment and before I can see what or who is rapidly approaching me from behind, I whip around, swinging hard.

My fist collides with skin, and a resounding smack echoes through the sanctum as I instinctively take a few steps back from my assailant. They stumble backwards, but not as much as a punch of that magnitude really should’ve sent them. And then I’m able to focus and I recognize that suit, and that hair, and that god awful angry sound that he always growls when he’s been hit.

“...Miguel?” I say, quietly, unsure that I’m seeing correctly. I wait for him to move at me, to wrap me in his webs and yell at me so long my ears bleed, but he does nothing but stare. The dull light coming from the windows shadows his face, making him look scarier than he really is. I am not scared of Miguel O’hara, and I’m not really angry, either. Seeing him does little more than make my chest ache and my feet twitch to run, and I almost do, before he finally opens his mouth.

“Your friend doesn’t have great security.”

It’s probably supposed to sound ominous, but it comes out a little timid, like he’s nervous. I’m not sure what’s happening here but I want it to be over.

“What the hell did you do to Strange?” I ask, regaining my composure a little, filling the space between us ever so slightly. Miguel takes a deep breath and it almost looks like he’s rolling his eyes.

“He wasn’t here when I arrived. I would’ve been interested in talking to him.” He’s smug when he says that, and I think to myself, what could he possibly be smug about, when he’s showing up and talking to me like he didn’t rip me to shreds the last time I saw him.

I glare at him, my hands shaking a little, in anger, in something else. “Miguel, I would appreciate it if you just left me the fuck alone.”

The frustrating gleam in Miguel’s eyes seems to disappear, and all that’s left are the red pools that sit in his eyes, which narrow at me as he moves closer. And I’m mad, mad at him, but mostly myself, because when he stares me down like that the urge to run and the urge to let him devour me begin to wage war.

“Listen to me,” he says, and though his face is hard, his voice is satiny, breathless. “This has gone on too long.”

I blink back at him, noticing that he is just as close to me as he was before, noticing that the same tension is there, only this time it feels like I’m choking on it.

“You told me to leave,” I finally say, sounding more miserable than I would’ve liked. His eyebrows furrow slightly at that, and my heart pounds a little harder, my fingers tingling, the hair standing up on my neck.

“I didn’t.” Miguel’s voice is steady, and just loud enough for me to hear, so there are no echoes. It creates a strange sense of intimacy, like it’s only for me. My breath hitches and I hope he doesn’t notice.

“Well,” I start, feeling suppressed emotions from the past week struggling to resurface, “you told me that it wouldn’t matter if I did. Why would I stay if I don’t matter?”

I know my eyes are glossing over, I know my voice is watery. I’m embarrassed to look this way in front of him, and I inhale shakily, shaking my head to rid myself of that aching in my throat. My nails make crescent markings in the palms of my hands but I force myself to keep looking at him, though it only makes everything feel worse.

A puff of air escapes Miguel and his mouth parts just the slightest bit. I feel it on my lips. His breath is warm and smells like mint and a little bit of coffee.

“I didn’t... mean that.” His eyes go a little wide, only a little, but I see it. “It does matter if you leave.”

I furrow my eyebrows, and my heart is going so fast that I can feel it in my fingers. The sound of it surrounds me and is only overpowered by the sound of Miguel’s voice.

“I can’t stand to be around you, I can’t stand how you talk, and how you act, and your stupid fucking jokes.” I feel like my heart is breaking, and I try to move away, but suddenly Miguel is clutching both of my arms in his hands and he has a frantic look in his eye, something that almost scares me but not quite.

“Because every time you open your mouth, or you smile, or god forbid you fucking laugh, it makes me want to... to keep you. To get close to you. To know you.” His grip tightens on my arms and I feel like I might not be able to stand up if he wasn’t practically holding me. “The ways I think about you... they’re not right. It’s not like me. And if you leave, I can get rid of all that.”

Miguel’s breaths are heavy, his nostrils flaring slightly with each inhale. His eyes are a little wild and they bore into mine with such intensity I think that if I look away I might explode. His hands burn into my skin and I shiver. I’m convinced that this is not real, it must be an illusion Strange made to mock me for his own amusement. That would be low, even for him, but it’s still within his realm of asshole-ry.

“—I thought it would work, but it didn’t. It’s like a virus, you’re infecting me, and... and I don’t know what to do.” Miguel’s nostrils are flaring and his eyes are darting across my face, searching for something, maybe answers, I don’t know. The lack of distance between us is really all I can focus on; that, and the way I can feel my cheeks flushing, my lips parting, and the anger and the desire and everything inside me is threatening to bubble up.

“Miguel,” I finally say, and it comes out quiet, soft. I don’t know what I plan to continue with but I know I need to say something. I see his Adams’ apple bob as he swallows hard, and suddenly his hands are on the small of my back and he’s pulling me toward him, impossibly closer. Our noses bump and his lips ghost over mine; each exhale tickles my skin. My eyes flutter shut for a moment, overwhelmed, intrigued, waiting for him to speak.

“You have to—” he pauses, clearing his throat. “You have to tell me it’s okay or I can’t—I can’t let myself.”

My hands find their way to his shoulders, snaking up and lacing with one another behind his neck. There’s only a little bit of skin exposed, as he’s wearing his suit, but when I touch it it’s hot and I can almost feel his bones vibrating with anticipation underneath. I feel as though if he moves he will swallow me whole. I’m not entirely opposed to the idea.

“Miguel,” I repeat, this time a little breathier. He inhales sharply, and his fingers dig into my waist. I press my palm against the nape of his neck and slide it to his cheek, feeling the scars and bruises of the past, the dull point of his cheekbones, his clenched jaw. I smile softly and I look into his eyes.

“You are such a dick.”

I don’t know why I think that’s the right thing to say, but it feels like it is, because Miguel stares down at me for just a second more before his lips capture mine. The kiss is searing, burning me down to the bone, making me stumble back slightly with the force of it. He walks me into the wall and holds me there, with his hands, with his mouth, with the sheer weight of his body pressing against mine. And though I’ve thought of this so many times I can’t even recall the number, I never thought of it like this. Gentle and caring and so passionate it makes me feel almost a little sad.

When I pull away, his mouth chases me. I take in his expression and I almost moan at the sight; his lips a little puffy, his eyes slightly wide, his cheeks pink. I have never seen him like this before. The idea that it’s me that is reducing him to this desperate sort of mess makes me swallow hard.

“Can I?” he asks, like he didn’t kiss me just a few seconds before. His voice is quiet and rough and it sounds like he’s restraining himself. One of his hands has slipped underneath the bottom of my shirt and his thumb is moving in slow circles on my skin. The act makes my chest swell a little and I just nod, unable to really say anything.

He kisses me again, but this time it’s more similar to the way I imagined it. His fangs sink into the flesh of my bottom lip and I squeak, earning a soft groan from him as his tongue slips into my mouth. My fingers glide into his hair and I tug; the noise that escapes him makes my head swim.

When Miguel presses his body against me, I think about how the spider suits are too thin, because I can feel the outline of his cock against my thigh and I almost gasp. He’s big. And he’s so hard I’m sure it must be painful. Without thinking, my hand slithers down between us and I palm him gently, waiting for him to suddenly pull away and start yelling about how ridiculous this all is.

But he doesn’t. He moans, and I don’t know if it’s wishful thinking or if it’s real, but I swear to god I hear him whisper my name against my lips.

“Miguel,” I say, the sensations around me making it difficult to focus, “we can’t do this here. What if he comes back?”

Miguel ignores me and starts lying open-mouthed kisses against the corner of my lips, moving down to my jaw, and then my neck, and I forget for a second about where I am. He bites me, his fangs scraping sharp against my skin. My back arches just the slightest bit, causing my hand to brush against his clothed cock once again. He exhales hard and the vibrations rumble through me.

“Miguel,” I try again, but it only seems to spur him on, sucking bruises on the skin of my collarbones now as he keeps moving down. Both of his hands are now resting tight on my ribcage, scrunching my shirt up to reveal my stomach. The cold air on my skin makes me shiver.

“Let him see. I don’t care,” Miguel mutters, and he pauses for a second. And then he kneels in front of me and I think I might explode.

Miguel O’Hara is staring up at me, his hands massaging the skin just below my breasts, his chin resting against my pelvis, his eyes lidded and glossed over with lust. Miguel O’Hara, the person who has never once smiled at me, who tells me I’m a nuisance and a distraction, is on his knees, practically begging for me. I reach out to touch him and notice that a small bruise is forming in the place where I must’ve punched him. It only adds to his beauty, and I cradle his cheek gently. A uncomfortable, confusing feeling fills my stomach when Miguel leans into my touch.

“Does it hurt?” My voice is uncharacteristically tender. He shakes his head. The guilt must stay in my eyes for a moment too long, because he raises his head and kisses my stomach, his thumbs beginning to move in circles again.

“Don’t worry. You can make it up to me.”

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Miguel’s always known he was the possessive type. Obsessive might be a better word for it, but it sounds too harsh, so he’d rather stick with the former. He’s always been jealous and competitive, unable to relinquish control over the things closest to him. It usually drives a wedge between himself and whatever it is he desires to be in charge of, which sort of defeats the purpose.

But you? You seem to like it. How could you not, when his desire to make you his has him buried between your thighs, lapping at your weeping cunt like he’ll die if he stops. His dreams are nothing compared to this; to the warmth of your thighs pressing against his cheeks as you hold his face there, to the gentle tug of your fingers wrapped around his locks every time his nose nudges your clit. And the way you sound, god, there was no way he could have possibly known how quickly you got loud, and desperate, and sinful. He thinks to himself that maybe this was not the best idea, because if he hoped before that it would aid him in forgetting about you, he was sorely mistaken.

“Oh my god,” you whimper, your legs trembling. Your voice echoes through the room and Miguel wonders if this doctor has any cameras in his home. You don’t seem to be worried about it, but who knows, maybe that’s something you like. The idea of you enjoying being watched by someone else drives him to push harder. He doesn’t like the thought of you letting another man see you this way. He knows it’s selfish, but god if he doesn’t want to ruin you for anyone else.

“Miguelmiguelmiguel, please, please,” you babble, like you don’t know how to say anything else. He’s been at it for almost 20 minutes now, because he promised himself he would take his time with you, and he won’t let up on that. He knows you need to cum but he just can’t let you, not when you sound so pretty begging.

“I know, I know,” he manages, slipping a finger into your cunt as he looks up at you. His knees are beginning to ache, but he barely feels it. Your stomach and chest are heaving as you try to calm yourself down, your lip pulled taut between your teeth. “You’re doing so good for me, princesa. Taste like heaven.”

You fucking pout at that, grinding yourself against his hand. Miguel growls a little and his breath goes shaky.

“Please, please,” you beg, your eyes squeezed shut, your mouth hanging open. “I can’t—I need—”

He shushes you. “Be patient. I promise I’ll give you what you want.”

Your grip on his hair tightens and Miguel feels his cock throb in his suit. He looks down and can see a stain where he must be leaking, and suddenly that throbbing spreads through his entire figure and he realizes he can’t wait anymore.

Miguel quickly takes his finger out of you and stands; he doesn’t get a second to breath before you’re lunging at him, one leg hooked around his hip, your hands practically clawing at his suit, saying takethisoff. Your bottom lip is raw from your gnawing, and he can’t help it when he bites it, this time hard enough to draw blood. When the coppery taste invades his mouth he’s a little ashamed at the noise he makes, but that goes away once he hears how much you liked it.

“I need you,” you say, and your skin is sheening a little with a light layer of sweat. Miguel doesn’t think he’s heard anything more beautiful in his life. Your eyes bear into his, clouded and sparkling. “Miguel, please.”

One of your hand moves to hold his clothed cock and he feels himself losing it.

“Is that what you want?” he breathes, and he reaches behind his neck to press the button that rids him of his suit. Immediately, it's sucked up into the mechanism and he’s suddenly only in his boxers, but it’s the last thing he’s worried about. The words leave his mouth before he can even think about filtering them. “Want me to split you open, huh?”

You press against him and Miguel can feel your nipples through your shirt, pebbled and aching. His hand move to palm your tits and you keen into his touch; when he exhales Miguel sounds like a starving animal.

“Yes,” you reach for his bare chest and your nails rake down, to his abs, which quiver under your touch. “Yes, please, Miguel.”

Miguel loses all sense for a second, unable to move, and in that second your fingers are tugging his boxers down, letting his cock spring free. He hisses at the exposure, feeling himself hard against his stomach, his tip bright red and leaking an almost concerning amount of pre-cum. Your hand wraps around him and he thrusts into your grip, clutching your arm as his eyes flutter shut, and his mouth hangs open.

He was right; your fingertips barely touch, unable to wrap fully around his girth. He looks up at you and sees worry cross your pretty face momentarily. He wants to reassure you that there is nothing you have to do; despite the restraint he is lacking right now, he would never force you into anything. But then you swallow and your hand starts to move up to his tip, running your thumb over his slit so slow it hurts.

“You’re... god, you’re fucking huge, Miguel. How has anyone ever fit that inside them?” You manage a smile and a huff that’s meant to be laughter, even though he’s naked in front of you and his face is covered in your slick, and you’re in someone else’s house, and he’s technically your boss. Some of Miguel’s desire is overshadowed by that ache in his chest, and he smiles back.

“I can go slow if you think you can’t take it,” he teases, his hands moving up and down slowly across your exposed stomach. You shiver under his touch and finally reach up to lift your shirt off, showing him that you’re not wearing a bra. You have the most beautiful body he’s ever seen and he wants to worship you, but he’s not sure he has the willpower to wait any longer. Maybe next time.

You squeeze his cock tight, and he hisses. “Is that a challenge?”

Miguel slots his mouth against yours and kisses you hard, pushing your head back into the wall. You lose your grip on him and instead place your hands anywhere you can touch; his chest, his stomach, his shoulders, his neck. He can feel you everywhere, except the place he needs you the most.

“Can I fuck you?” he finds himself gasping, between kisses. He’s prepared for a no, despite the way your body obviously wants him. “Please. Say it, please.” Your teeth are knocking and he’s basically sucking on your tongue, trying to invade you, get more of you.

And then you nod and you press yourself against his hip. You look him in the eyes and the haze melts away. It’s just you and him; you’re staring at him in a way that he had only ever dreamed about. “I want you, Miguel. Right now, there’s nothing more that I want than you.”

He studies you for a moment, just listening to the sound of your breathing, of his own. You smile softly at him and card your hand through his hair, cocking your head to the side just the slightest bit. Your knee rests against his hip, giving him full access. He doesn’t think you’ve ever looked more gorgeous.

“I..” Miguel hesitates, but pushes through. “I want you, too.”

When he slides inside you, he does it slowly, just like he said he would. It’s just the tip, but your back still arches, your breath is still taken away. Miguel looks down at where you’re connected and the sight is pornographic; your walls just swallowing him in, pulsating around him. It feels like you were made just for him, and he wants to shape your cunt around him, make sure no one else can ever make you feel good.

“Shit,” he hisses, bracing himself. One of his hands snakes around the back of your head to keep you from bumping into the wall, and the other holds you by the waist, making sure you’re steady. “You’re so tight, honey, god. Can you relax for me?”

You whine softly as he slides a little deeper, punching the breath from his chest. He’s only halfway in, but he feels like he’s going to cum any second. You’re not making this very easy on him.

“Miguel, it’s too much,” but your pussy is clinging to him like it needs him, and your nails make crescent markings in his shoulders as you try to steady your breathing.

“It’s okay, hermosa, it’s okay,” he coos, kissing you quickly. He hopes it’s enough to reassure you, because it’s taking all his energy to keep himself from just thrusting right into you. “I know you can take it, shit, I know you can. Just a little more.”

You reach up to kiss him back. It’s tender and he sighs into your mouth, rolling his hips forward without thinking about it. You squeak and your nails grip him so hard he knows they’re drawing blood, but he can’t think about anything but how fucking hot you are around him, already trying to milk him dry and he hasn’t even started. He’s all the way inside you now. He can feel your heartbeat through your walls.

“Miguel,” you whisper, placing your hand under his chin to make him look at you. “Move, please.”

Who is he to say no to such a pretty request?

Miguel pulls back slowly, more for himself than for you; if he goes any faster, he’s done for. He sounds pathetic, mumbling about how beautiful you are, how good you’re making him feel. Once he’s all the way out, he slides back in, all at once this time.

“Fuck, feels so good,” you whine, as he starts to set a steady pace. Miguel is trying to look anywhere but your eyes, trying to prolong this. He can feel his balls aching as they begin to slap against your ass; he moans out loud when you clench around him.

“Faster, ah,” you cry, and a switch flips inside him.

He pulls out suddenly, relishing for a moment in the way you whine, but then he’s grabbing you by the shoulders and spinning you around, so that your hands are braced against the wall and your ass is exposed to him. Miguel marvels at the sight but knows he doesn’t have much time; the threat of Strange showing up grows worse with each second. So, he wastes not another minute before sliding back into you, smoothing his hand over the delicious arch of your back.

“You want it like this? Faster? Harder?” Miguel grips your ass and spreads you open; he almost drools at the way your puckered hole is clenching, the way your pussy greedily swallows him. He smacks your asscheek hard enough to leave a mark and almost cums when you tighten around him.

“Answer me,” he chokes out, too far gone to really care about how rough he’s being. You seem to like it, anyhow, babbling yesyesyes and thankyouthankyou, and Miguel thinks to himself that nothing is going to be the same after this. For you, for him, for whatever it was that the two of had together.

He can’t seem to care, because suddenly you’re squeezing him so tight that he almost doubles over, overwhelmed with the pleasure that shoots up his spine. Instead, he reaches down to your clit, rubbing tight, quick circles over it with his thumb. He’s moaning like he’s the one being touched, because you’re almost sobbing now.

“Miguelmiguelmiguel, I’mgonna—oh fuck, you’re gonna make me cum, fuck I’m cumming!—”

Miguel’s vision dots with stars. He feels like he’s been dropped into the ocean, and he’s drowning in you, and he’s not struggling because he wants to be taken under.

“Hah, f-fuck, that’s it,” he forces out, his hips snapping into you so feverishly he’s afraid he might be hurting you. Maybe not that afraid, because just seconds later he smacks your ass again, this time even harder. You sound like you’re crying. The lewd, wet noises of your creaming cunt echo in the cavernous room and again Miguel wonders if there are cameras. He wonders if maybe he could sneak the tape before the doctor arrives home.

“Inside,” you whimper, turning to look at him over your shoulder. You look like a fucking angel, debauched, mascara running down your cheeks, your lips puffy and parted. “Please.”

That’s all Miguel needs, because the moment the words leave your mouth, he’s cumming hard, squeezing you with such force that he’s sure he’ll leave finger-shaped bruises on your skin. The noise that leaves him sounds inhumane, crazed, but it’s drowned out by the searing pleasure that strikes him. He barely registers that the sound is his at all.

When he comes to, he’s still inside you, and when he pulls out he groans lowly as his cum starts to drip out. You’re still clenching around nothing, legs trembling. Miguel caresses your ass gently, his hands soothing the red handprint, just wanting to touch you some more. He’s not sure what’s going to happen after this, and he wants to savor it while it lasts.

"Don’t worry,” you say as you turn to face him, leaning back against the wall. Your voice is hoarse and tired. “I’m on the pill.”

“Huh?” Miguel thinks for a second before he realizes, and he just nods. That was truly the least of his worries; he’s still in his post-orgasm haze, and all he can think about is how good he feels. “Oh, that. Good.”

You smile. “Yeah. Just that.”

You reach for him and he immediately comes forward to hold you, his lips hovering above yours. He’s a little worried that you might regret it, but is slightly reassured by the feathery touch of your fingers as they slide around him.

“Hey,” you whisper, still grinning softly. “How about we go home? If Strange comes in here and sees us like this I don’t think I can ever face him again.”

Miguel knows you don’t mean your apartment. You mean home, the Spider Society, and he feels a swell of pride at that. He’s made that your home. Even if he did technically kick you out of it.

“Mmhm. I need to clean you up.”

Your cheeks go red. “Is it really that messy? Don’t let anything get on the carpet! It’s impossible to scrub stuff out, I think it’s a vintage rug or something.”

He stares at you, and then he laughs, and laughs a little harder once he notices the way your eyes light up at the sound. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”

I’ll take care of you, is what Miguel doesn’t say. But he gets the feeling that you hear it, anyhow. You kiss him again and he thinks that he could do that forever.

“Ok. I trust you.”

And of all the pretty noises you’ve made for him, all the lovely things you’ve said, somehow, that’s the most beautiful thing Miguel has ever heard.

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the-floral-perspective · 4 months

Text

My Dearest Brother in the Moon | Creepypasta

Jeff’s perspective from Liu’s rebirth and his sudden arrival.

Hurt/not much comfort, not really a happy ending either.

I sat next to Ben in the livingroom, I terrorized him with a pillow earlier so he sat far away from me staring.

“What? It’s not like I’m gonna hit you,” I started, gripping the couch pillow tighter.

“Yeah sure, Jeffery,” Ben muttered spitefully.

“Don’t call me that you blonde bimbo!” I held the pillow up and started running at Ben.

Ben swiped past me and started sprinting. I laughed manically as I chased after him around the livingroom.

Ben screeched as he teleported quickly into the TV. “Cheater!”

He stuck out his tongue and flipped me off, “don’t hate me cause you ain’t me!”

I rolled my eyes in response, sitting in front of the TV. Ben and I having a stare off.

The front door slammed open, scaring the shit out of me and Ben, so much so that he fell out of the TV. Nurse Ann and EJ coming through holding an unidentifiable person wearing all black.

I looked on curiously as they shouted for slender. Maybe something with the rake. Ultimately, I didn’t bother with the unknown person. It’s never that important anyways.

I turned over to Ben smirking, “son of a bitch!” He blurted and ran away.

For dinner that night, Slender made chicken noodle soup. Which all of us devoured. Though it was unusual because everyone was quiet. I caught a couple glances at me from various pastas.

Slender sat at the end of the table. I looked around as everyone, even Ben avoided eye contact.

“What’s up with y’all?” I asked aloud, breaking the silence.

Everyone perked up, staring for a second before looking down. I raised an eyebrow.

“W-well it’s just the new patient we got today. He’s not feeling so well, you know. Maybe you should-“ Ann winced as if she got kicked, “shouldn’t check him out.”

Ann sat across from me, she sat inbetween Jane and Jill.

“Okay, I wasn’t going to anyways.” As I said that Jane let out a small sigh. I squinted at her, they’re all definitely hiding something.

“What’s your problem, Jane?” I confronted her after everyone left the dinner table.

“Nothings my problem, idiot,” Jane muttered back. She seemed nervous, which was not how she normally was around me.

“If it’s not your problem then who’s problem is it?” I asked exasperated.

“Yours.” Jane deadpanned, finally meeting my eyes.

“The fuck you mean?”

“Check the new patient, you’ll get it,” Janes face scrunched in sympathy before she scowled again like she usually did.

I hate that she allows herself to feel sympathy, she was supposed to be like me but no. How ugly.

I scowled and pushed her away. Storming out of the room.

That night I decided to check out what Jane was talking about. Ann and Jack were asleep, so it wouldn’t be hard.

I walked into the recovery room which had three beds in it. Only one was filled this time.

Slowly, feeling my heart start beating a little faster with each step. I pulled back the blue curtain but the person was just sleeping.

They had multiple face and head bandages. I couldn’t really recognize him. Jane might’ve just been pranking me.

I studied the character more, they were in a blue hospital gown. Their hair was a dark brown, some peaks poking through his head bandages. Then I reached his neck. A black and grey striped scarf.

Loud buzzing filled my ears as I froze.

“Liu?” I stuttered, accidentally out loud.

His visible eye fluttered open, “you know me? You know who I am?”

He never woke up that fast. Why is he so awake now? This isn’t Liu.

“No. I don’t know you. Goodnight,” I couldn’t hear his response as I already walked out.

I walked to my room seemingly in a daze, I didn’t even notice the fact that I was crying. For a moment, I sat on my bed and all was calm.

A second later almost everything I could get my hands on in my bedroom was broken. Some blood was on the ground, my arm was aching. My dresser was pushed sideways and all my previously beloved trinkets were broken.

Standing in the middle of my mess, I sat back down on my bed. My tears were dry and I had no thoughts surrounding my mind. I stared at the ceiling for awhile until I was able to fall asleep— which only lasted about an hour.

When I woke up, I was in the nursery room. Or whatever it was called. My arm was bandaged. Suddenly Ann opened my curtain and I caught a glimpse of the impersonator before she closed the curtain.

“Sorry, didn’t think you were awake,” Ann started, smiling guiltily.

“It’s aight,” I responded, tired of her politeness.

“…who’s the other person in here?” I asked curiously, as if I didn’t already look here the other night.

“Uh, well, we’re pretty sure it’s Liu. You know, like your little brother?” Ann responded hesitantly.

“Nah, it’s not him,” I shrugged.

“He never wakes up that easily.”

Ann thought for a moment, “well maybe since the incident he wakes up easier? We have to wait for Slender to confirm his identity anyways though, so I’d just wait.”

“It’s not like I’d care that much if he was. I tried killing him for a reason,” I snarled at her.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Jeff,” Ann sighed while checking my vitals.

“You should rest here for the day. Patient 01 got his face wraps removed, so don’t be… alarmed.”

I scoffed as she walked out.

There was a window in front of my bed that I remained staring at as the curtain didn’t go fully around my bed. I couldn’t of been more bored and no one visited me either.

There was a birds nest at my window, I watched as the parent bird fed it’s children as if it was the greatest entertainment in the world.

I sighed as I fell asleep. Calmly might I add.

I woke up to a completely dark room, with the only exception of the full moon outside my window. Fuck, I don’t think I’ve ever slept this long. On my bedside table was a glass of water and a note from EJ that I purposely threw to my left.

I drank the water greedily.

“Hey you dropped this,” the impersonator pulled my curtain back with the paper in my hand.

“Dude what the hell? I could’ve been naked!” I complained, staring at the person for a moment, my breath catching in my throat.

He really did look like Liu.

“Well you aren’t,” he tilted his head, smiling lightly.

“What’s your name?” He asked me, sitting back on his bed.

“It’s uh, Jeff,” I stared away from him. I really didn’t like how he looked like Liu.

“That’s a cool name, I don’t remember my name honestly. You’re the guy that came down here last night, aren’t you? Yeah the name you called me, Liu? Sounded familiar but I’m not sure why,” he looked up in questioning.

He even had the same rambling qualities as Liu.

“Yeah, why are you up anyways? It’s late,” I questioned, stupidly feeling concerned.

He only raised his brows, “fair point.” I muttered.

“I just couldn’t sleep that well. As far as I can remember I haven’t been able to sleep that good,” he muttered to himself.

“Yeah me neither,” I muttered back in response.

“Anyways, I’ll let you try and rest. Sorry for taking your time,” he laughed awkwardly.

“It’s alright,” I replied back as he closed my curtain.

I didn’t fall back asleep.

The next morning, both… him and I were allowed to exit the nursery. Which was spent in silence. I stormed back into my room. Where everything was replaced, Slender probably did that.

I sighed and sat on my bed. Though I had a lot of restless energy so I quickly got to productive pacing. Making food in the kitchen. In the livingroom, he sat socializing on the couch with Ben and Jane who smiled politely at him.

I rolled my eyes at the scene, missing his concerned glance. I decided on some toaster strudels and basically paced around the dining room until I heard the toaster pop. I grabbed the iced strudels bare handed, not caring about the pain.

“Your gonna burn yourself, are you sure you don’t want a plate? Jane showed me where they are, I can get you one?” He rambled.

I looked behind him at Jane, who seemed sympathetic. She became dead faced at me. I rolled my eyes and pushed past him. Not saying anything.

Not really sure how to feel I went to Slender’s office.

“Come in.”

I barged my way in, “is that actually Liu? Be honest. I know you know.”

Slender sighed, “yes. It is, but you already knew that didn’t you?”

Honestly, I did. But at this point there was no denying that Liu was here now. Liu was alive. Liu couldn’t remember anything.

“But why? Didn’t he die when I killed him?” I stressed, throwing away my toaster strudels.

“He never did. From what I was able to see, he survived the attack and went to a hospital. We just know that he randomly went insane on his long-term nurse and ran into our territory. There’s certain memories in his head not even I can access, Jeff.”

I thought for a moment, “but why were you guys so urgent to get him inside?”

“Rake.”

I sighed and stood up, going to walk out, “Jeff.”

I turned around.

“Don’t do anything irrational.”

I stared at him blankly for a moment, “when do I ever?”

I sat in the backyard, watching Smiley sit in the garden talking to the plants as they smiled and blushed at him. What a nut head.

Sighing, I went for a walk in the woods. Ignoring Smiley’s concerned glance.

What is up everyone’s ass today?

Though as I watched the scenery, I recognized I was getting into the part of the woods that wasn’t all that safe. Not that I’d care that much. I’m confident nothings going to happen.

I was thinking of the past. Like how for brief moments of the beginning of high school where Liu and Jane were good friends. Or how Liu and I would talk at night when we couldn’t sleep as kids.

I didn’t feel any yearning to go back though. I like that I’m here, Liu just had ruined my flow. Taking over as he usually did. I scoffed to myself and was immediately jumped on by one of the mytholoids in the forest.

A being of eighth eyes, a circle hooped shaped body. It had no arms or legs, but instead a sharp beak at the middle of its face. I cant remember the name of this one, but it’s the Angel mimic and that’s all I remember.

It’s beak opened slowly as it’s entire being vibrated with excitement. I stared blankly because I knew I’d just wake up injured.

Saliva dripped onto my neck as I grimaced, it’s beak grasping tightly onto my neck. I quickly became choking at the sharp pain, but that was not all it had to offer. Blood dripped from my neck as I stared at the sun lit sky. The being taking bites of other parts of my body until I slowly became nothing and passed out.

When I woke back up, the being was ripped in half, I watched as the rake ate it. Some of my wounds were healing as much as they could. Leaving me with gashes all over my legs, stomach and shoulders. The main one being my throat.

I don’t know why I didn’t fight back against it, I could’ve, easily. With the knife in my shoe, it could’ve been prevented, but I didn’t try to.

Slowly I sat up, immediately feeling all the pain hitting my abdomen.

I groaned, the rake looked up a moment but didn’t really care. I nodded at him and limped off.

My injuries were much worse than I had anticipated. As the time walking back, I spent on a daze of passing out.

Once I got to the garden, it was sundown and Smiley was getting his gardening tools packed up when he heard my breathing.

His eyes widened lightly before he called others names. I couldn’t hear him though because my ears started ringing and I suddenly felt weaker.

“Liu,” I reached forward towards an illusion who would catch me, but I ultimately fell and passed out.

The next time I awoke, Liu was next to my bed, startling me. I couldn’t speak as the gash on my neck was still unhealed. I still felt loopy.

“Shh it’s okay! I just came to see how you’re doing!” Liu exclaimed worryingly.

I nodded unsurely. Still not knowing how to feel, but just feeling.

“EJ and Ann brought you in here, they said that you should be out in a week or so. I haven’t heard much from the other pasta’s. Jane doesn’t seem to like you, you know that right?” He rambled.

I nodded my head yes.

“Oh and I figured my name is Liu, so that’s exciting. Slender told me I was just yesterday. It’s weird how you were right about my name. Maybe we know each other,” he shrugged and didn’t seem to think much about what he said.

I attempted to swallow but the pain refrained me. I felt an ache in my throat that wasn’t just from my injury. My chin wobbled for some reason.

I nodded somberly, as that’s all that I could do in my position.

It was quiet for a moment.

“Well, I just wanted to check in on you. The only others that came in here were Ann and Jack, you’re probably close with them, huh? Anyways, I should go to bed. Sleep well, Jeff.”

I watched as he walked out of the room. I didn’t have the guts to write down that Ann and Jack were required to check on me. That’s depressing that no one visited. I felt an unknown feeling wash over me.

A knock sounded on the door. I perked up, but it was Slender who teleported on the chair next to me. I mentally got ready for a mind-reading conversation.

“I told you not to do anything rash.” He clasped his hands together.

I didn’t mean to.

“As always, Jeff. Liu is moving in with us, I just wanted to give you a warning.”

“What do you feel when you do the things that you do, I’ve been wondering for awhile.”

I’m not sure. I just feel nothing and than I feel everything. It’s weird.

“Well what were you feeling this time around?”

Lonely, I think. Seeing Jane and Liu hanging out was… weird. It was different. Like I know they were friends back then, but it just felt weird this time ‘round. Like misplaced.

“Do you think it was easier for you to believe that Liu was dead, than to think he would become like you?”

What makes you think he’s like me?

“I found some… traces in his brain, similar to what you have but, well, different. He has DID, Jeff. The other alter that we know of, is almost exactly like you.”

“His name is Sully. Looking through his brain he has two other alters that haven’t shown much yet. Regardless, would you rather him be dead than be like you?”

I don’t know…How come no one visited me?

“Maybe they thought that you’d only take it angrily if they showed.”

I wouldn’t of, I’d appreciate it. I’d probably enjoy it, actually.

“I know that, Jeff. However, people cannot comprehend what they don’t see. Majority doesn’t see actions, they see words. Words of which you speak.”

I wish I could stop being so angry.

“We all do, Jeff.”

“Get some rest.”

40 notes · View notes

hellfiremunsonn · 4 months

Text

Stuck With Me. Eddie Munson x Reader.

AN: At the end of each chapter will be a picture of ‘your’ Journal. Photos, and writing of a little bit from each chapter.

(THIS IS A REUPLOAD ALL CHAPTERS WILL BE RE UPLOADED ONE BY ONE)

I DO NOT ALLOW MY WRITING TO BE REPUBLISHED ANYWHERE OTHER THAN MY OWN BLOG WITHOUT MY CONSENT.

WARNINGS: Mentions of drinking (they're at a bar) Eddie is sweaty

WORDCOUNT: 5k

CHAPTER 3: THE GANGS ALL HERE

It took about fifteen minutes for the house to become a loud mess of young teens and young adults. Passing between the open door to the backyard, people dipping their feet in the pool, some hovering in the kitchen, and of course Steve, watching Robin with his hands on his hips as she manned the grill. He still didn't trust her enough to cook by herself, and you could only reassure him so many times, but still he refuses to fully believe you.

The gang included, Dustin Henderson, Max Mayfield, Lucas Sinclair, who was dating Max. Mike Wheeler and his sister Nancy Wheeler. Will Byers and his brother Johnathan Byers, who was dating Nancy. But Nancy was also Steves ex but they somehow get along really well?. Jane Hopper, who was will and Jonathans step sister, and she was dating Mike.

You sat on the edge of the pool next to Max watching Dustin and Mike battle it out with pool noodles.

"It's crazy to think all of you have grown up together" You comment.

Max turned to you, a small smile on her lips as she looked at you over the top of her red sunglasses. "Everyone always says that" She laughed. "They're the siblings I never had, and although they are all a huge pain in my ass I'm glad I became friends with them, trauma and all"

"Were you at the mall too? With the fire and all that?" you asked quietly.

"Uh yeah, most of us were actually" She seemed like she wanted to say more but closed her mouth. Forcing a tight lipped smile while she looked at me.

"That must have been scary, I can only imagine... But you don't have to talk about it, I get it, I'm sorry for prying" Instantly panicking that you might have crossed a line with the small red head but she laughed instead.

"No don't worry about it, people always ask about it, it's kind of an unbelievable story"

you nodded, turning your attention back to everyone around the backyard. Mike and Jane were sat close together on one of the lounge chairs, deep in conversations while their hands were intertwined.

"Hey can I ask you a question?" You said turning back to Max.

"Yeah of course"

"Who's the guy in the band? The show tomorrow?" your brows furrow, squinting through the sun.

"Eddie?"

You shrug. "Robin hasn't told me his name, keeps referring to him as 'an old friend' for some reason"

Max snorted. "Eddie Munson, he's the dungeon master for the DnD club all the guys were in at school. Or at least he was before he graduated, that's how we all know him, cause of those nerds" She said gesturing to the boys in the pool.

"Eddie Munson" You repeated. His named felt smooth on your tongue, a name you get used to saying... It replayed in your mind over and over again like a spell.

The rest of the night was actually quite peaceful. You all sat around the little campfire and exchanged stories, some good, some cringe, relating to old high school moments, and newer ones from the younger kids. They all seemed so mature for their age. All of them seeming to know more than me, and maybe they had been through more than they let on. But they were all so sweet nonetheless. It was obvious how much they loved and cared for each other.

After the sun had long gone down, we all cramped into the basement to watch a movie, and after almost an hour of back and forth yelling on which movie was better and why you ended up falling asleep about ten minutes into the movie. When you woke up the movie had ended and static played on the tv, lighting up the crowded couch where they all were fast asleep and all tucked around each other. You snuck away to grab your camera and snapped a picture of them, it was too cute for you not to.

"You're such a creep" Robin whispered to you. Waking up from her spot on the other couch, stretching her arms over her head.

"They look cute, sue me" you said without looking at her. "I'm going to head up to bed" you said, attempting to speak through your yawn.

Heading for the stairs you turned back to robin before leaving "Robin?" You said quietly.

"mhmm?"

"I really like your friends. I can see why you keep them around, I've never seen you so happy"

She blushed, the pink still prominent enough in the white glow of the tv. "Thanks... They really like you as well, they can't believe I found another cool friend honestly" She looked at them with fondness in her eyes.

"Goodnight Robby"

You happily tucked yourself into your bed for the week, sinking into the lavish pillows surrounding you.

You woke up the next morning around nine thirty, stretching out your arms and legs. After a few extra minutes of staring at the ceiling you finally got up and creeped into the bathroom, brushing your teeth and peaking into Robins room to see if she was awake yet. She wasn't.

You grabbed a pair of fuzzy socks and tugged them on before quietly making your way downstairs.

Feeling your shoulders relax when you realized you were probably the only one awake right now. You take your time snooping around the kitchen until you eventually found everything you needed to make coffee. You laughed to yourself knowing Robin would curse you for using instant coffee instead of 'the real stuff' considering you worked at a coffee shop. But something about instant coffee just hit perfectly in the morning.

Holding your mug of coffee to your chest you walked over to the large sliding doors to the backyard. Admiring the sun slowly filtering through the trees, bearing down a comfortable warmth before the heat of the afternoon was sure to hit.

You don't know when, or how long Steve had been in the kitchen but when he placed his own mug down on the counter; the ceramic noise of the cup meeting marble startled you and you flinched slightly, your coffee swirling in your mug threatening to spill more than the few splashes that hit your shirt.

"Sorry I didn't mean to scare you" Steve chuckled, his voice low and still groggy. from sleep. Hair a mess of a mop on the top of his head, yet it had somehow gained volume. "You're up early" He said while beginning to fix himself a cup of coffee.

"This is actually pretty late for me, I'm used to getting up so early for work" You pout. "This is the first time I've had more than two days off in a row"

"Really?" Steve said walking over to stand next to you. "How come you work so much?"

"I'm too nice to say no" you sigh, looking down into your coffee cup.

Taking a sip of his own, he nodded with a silent agreement. "That's like me and those little shits asleep downstairs. The amount of times I've considered moving back here just for them"

"You really are quite the babysitter aren't you? Robin makes jokes about it all the time, but it's different seeing you actually with them" you joke, bumping your shoulder into his.

Quiet footsteps from the basement stairs were heard behind you, both you and Steve turning to see who was creeping up the steps. It was Max with her two braids a little messy, a few strands coming untucked. "Oh thank god someone else is awake" She breathed while walking into the kitchen.

"I tried to stay down there but it's so boring when none of them are awake, and Dustins snoring was driving me crazy" Rolling her eyes she began searching through Steves cupboards, and drawers. The two of you continue to watch as she shifted around the kitchen, looking for whatever it was she was looking for. After a few minutes, she had laid out a bunch of bowls and other cooking utensils.

With a huff she leaned with both hands agaisnt the counter and looked up at Steve. "Steve do you have stuff to make pancakes?"

"Obviously" Steve said running a hand through his hair. "Of course I have stuff for pancakes" he scoffed while joining her on the other side of the counter.

As the smell of pancakes, syrup and bacon, filled the air, more and more of the gang slowly began to filter in and out of the kitchen. Grabbing a serving of pancakes and sitting around the kitchen and outside in the backyard to enjoy the morning warmth before it got too hot. You settled with three pancakes, adding sliced bananas on top and drowned them in syrup. "Max these are incredible" You say after swallowing a sticky mouthful of pancake and banana.

"Hey she didn't do all of the work!" Steve yelled over the sound of the kitchen sink, elbows deep in soapy water.

After a day of laying in the sun by the pool, and swimming until your arms hurt it was time to start getting ready for the show tonight. Most of the gang had gone home to get ready which left you alone sat on the floor surrounded by every item of clothing you had brought. You pouted at your choices, none of them seeming to satisfy you. With a groan you leaned back until you were laying on the floor.

"Somehow I always find you on the floor" Robin said from the door. "What's your dilemma this time" She said coming to join you on the floor

"I don't know what to wear" you grumbled, throwing an arm over your eyes.

"Just like, wear something all black, it's a pretty metal band, and a dingy bar so you don't have to try so hard to fit in"

Leaning up onto my elbows you surveyed your options once more. "Do I look like I wear all black?" you say gesturing to the colourful and mismatched pile of clothing.

Robin rolled her eyes. Leaning forward onto her knees she rummaged through the clothes, mumbling to herself as she went along.

"Here" She said shoving a full outfit into your hands. "Go put it on" She poked at your sides until you were laughing and helped you up off the floor. Shoving you towards to bathroom to get dressed.

It was the Metallica shirt that usually you wore exclusively for sleeping. A pair of black shorts, with rainbow striped socks and your converse. It was a simple outfit, and you were kind of annoyed you didn't consider it in the first place. "Perfect!" Robin said jumping up and down while clapping her hands. "You look so cute"

You blush, avoiding her gaze. "You said it was a metal band?"

"Yeah, super metal, very loud, I never know what they're singing half the time, but I'm there to support" She said shrugging, jumping a few times while buttoning up her jeans.

Going with the theme of black, you did some messy black eyeliner, smudging it out around the edges to give it a more 'alternative' vibe, whatever that meant. but I smudged it out more. You added a lightly tinted lipgloss giving your lips a perfect cherry pink color.

The hideout was about an hour away from the centre of Hawkins, the bar stationed at the very edge of the town in an almost deserted area with only a few other buildings around it. The neon sign outside of the door flickered, half of it burnt out but still trying illuminated the large bald man who sat on a stool right next to the door, probably there to card minors, but by the looks of him he probably let most of them in.

Once inside the bar was exactly what you would picture any old dingy bar to look like. Wonky wooden floors that were abused by the heavy footed men who spilled their drinks after having one too many, or knocking over the tall bar tables in some sort of petty fight they wouldn't remember in fifteen minutes. The lights low, so only the few yellow wall lights filled the room with a faint glow. A couple of red faux leather booths across the left side of the bar, closest to the bathrooms that you could only imagine smelled like that weird portapotty chemical smell.

You scrunched your nose at the thought. Most of the gang ran over to grab seats in the booths while Robin lead you to the bar.

"What can I get for you two ladies?" the bar tender asked. He was tall and thick with muscle. Covered in tattoos, and some of them definitely looked gang related, but you didn't let your eyes linger on them very long.

"Could I get a vodka and coke?" Robin asked, her fingers tapping anxiously against the hardwood of the bar top.

The bartender nodded and then looked at you. "Just a sprite would be great" I said smiling. "Also thank you"

His lips lifted ever so slightly into a small smile as he went about making our drinks. You smile to yourself, feeling accomplished from making the mean tough man smile.

"You're not drinking?" Robin asks with a raised brow, fingers still tapping away as she spoke.

"I can feel a headache brewing, don't want to make it worse by drinking tonight" it wasn't a lie, you decently did have a headache brewing, tension from the nerves of finally meeting the mystery man named Eddie. If you added alcohol into the mix tonight you'd be in for a rude awakening tomorrow.

Robin hummed, barely paying attention to what you said, her eyes searching every crevice of the bar.

"Anxious about Vickie?"

Her eyes were wide, and she was so jittery she looked like a chihuahua. "No! Why would I be? Of course I'm not anxious" she said quickly, but folded even quicker.

"Well yes, a lot actually, she said she would be here, but what if she doesn't show?" She eagerly grabbed her drink the minute the bartender set them down. You give him another small smile before slapping down some cash for the drinks, and a couple into his tip jar.

"You talked to her on the phone today right?" Robin nodded, sipping her drink. "And she said she was coming, and that she was really excited to see you right?" You asked, repeating her words from earlier.

"Yeah she did"

"So then she'll be here Robin don't worry about it" you give her shoulder a reassuring squeeze and she smiles, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly.

"I'm sorry for freaking out about it so much"

"Don't apologize, that's what best friends are for, we sign up to listen to you freak out about the same thing a million times, s'just our job" you shrug.

She rolled her eyes, opening her mouth to say something witty probably but the uproar of the gang behind the two of you made her turn around. "Oh!" She yelled and quickly made her way over to the booths. Confused you follow and watched as she envelopes a tall man with long curly hair in a hug. You assume this was the 'Eddie', Max had told you about yesterday but you could only see the back of him.

Shyly sliding next to Robin, who now held him at arms length, you were finally able to see him.

My god was he beautiful. You don't know why Robin didn't tell you; You guess the whole being a lesbian thing it probably didn't even occur to her. His skin looked like porcelain, and his eyes were such chocolate brown you were sure they would make anyone who made eye contact with him melt. He was smiling while Robin babbled to him, words you couldn't even make out because you were so entranced by him. He had dimples, and deep lines that formed when he smiled around his eyes and mouth. His face so full of expression, giving you exactly the response you would want from whatever you told him. When his eyes flickered to yours it felt like time had stopped. He furrowed his brows, just slightly, clearly confused as to who you was, but there was something in his eyes you couldn't quite make out, but it made them sparkle.

"Oh! Let me finally introduce you two" Robin said turning towards you. Snapping you out of your thoughts you shook your head a little, plastering a smile on my face and reaching your hand out towards him.

"She's a she?" He said turning to robin. "I thought your roommate was a dude this entire time?"

"No you dingus, I've talked about her before, and she is very much a she, not a dude. Not my fault you gendered a nickname" She said rolling her eyes and returning to the gang behind you. Everyone clearly already having said their hellos, leaving us to get to know each other a little.

"Sorry about that" you blush.

He smiled at you, bringing his hand forward engulfing yours with his and shook it lightly. He repeated your name, and it sounded like heaven coming from his lips. You correct him, and give him your nick name which you prefer to be called but he ignores it, glancing down at your shirt.

"That's my shirt?" He said letting go of your hand to tug at the hem of the fabric.

"Huh?" you look down at his hand and then back up at him.

"This is mine, I thought I lost it, but you of all people have it?" He said raising his eyebrow.

"Oh Robin gave it to me, she didn't want to throw it out, so I took it" You say shyly, looking down at your feet. "I usually sleep in it, I don't listen to them so I feel bad if I wear it out"

"So you're wearing your pyjamas at a bar?" He teased.

You bit the inside of your cheek and smiled up at him. "I didn't pick out the outfit alright? I'm a lot more colourful than this" You say waving a hand up and down your body.

"I can tell" He said with a laugh. "Alright I gotta head to the stage, I hope you enjoy the show, even if you don't listen to stuff like this"

"I'm sure I will, break a leg up there" You say, giving him a small thumbs up. He crossed both his fingers on each hand in return.

When he made it to the stage you grabbed robin; maybe a little too aggressively as she almost spilled her drink all over the floor. "Why didn't you tell me he looked like that?" you spat, trying not to get the attention of the rest of the group.

"Huh?"

"Eddie!" you exclaim.

"What about Eddie?"

"Oh my god" You ran a hand over your face. "He looks like a fucking sex god Robin and you let me leave the house looking like this?"

"You look cute!" She argued.

"Maybe! Not cute enough for him" You say throwing your hands up in the air.

"Wait do you like Eddie?" she asks excitedly

"Well I don't know him, so I can't say yes to that, but his fucking face apparently has a way of making me have feelings that's for sure"

Robin snorted. "Oh my god I can't believe you're crushing on Eddie"

"Robin I swear to god, if you say anything to anyone I will spill so much lego on the floor of your room you will never be able to walk comfortably ever again"

"I never said I was going to say anything!" She said in defence. "But no, I won't say anything. He for sure thinks you're pretty though" she said into her glass.

"How would you know that?" you snort

"Because he's staring at you" she said smiling.

A panicked quick glance to your right to see that he in fact, really was staring at you. He seemed lost in thought, his drummer talking to him passionately, his hands flying, all while Eddies eyes stayed locked on you. Blushing, you ended up being the first one to break eye contact, but Eddies eyes didn't stray from you for very long.

About five minutes later Vickie finally showed up and ran full speed to Robin, hugging her so tightly while burying her head into Robins shoulder. They stood like that for a few minutes before finally breaking apart to give each other a cluster of kisses, laughing the whole time.

You smiled while you watched them, knowing Robin had nothing to worry about. Vickie is hopelessly in love with that woman.

More people filtered in and eventually people were standing shoulder to shoulder. Robin and Steve creating a protective amount of space around you, knowing know more about these types of crowds. Feeling very grateful to have them as friends who take such good care of you.

When Eddie emerged from the stage again he had removed his leather jacket. Now only a loose black tank top hung over his broad shoulders. His hair tugged half up into a bun to keep it out of his face. When he spoke into the mic I watched as his lips grazed the metal of it with each word.

"How ya doing Hawkins?" His voice echoed through the bar. People cheering and clapping at the sound of his voice.

"It's been a while, but I could never forget my favourite place" Another round of cheers. "Were gunna play a couple of our songs, but we wanna end it with the one that started it all, which is a cover of Metallicas Master of Puppets"

The gang excitedly screamed and clapped, encouraging him.

"Alright, that being said let's get this show fucking started" He almost growled those last few words before he and the rest of his band started jamming on their instruments. Grabbing your camera out of your bag, you snapped a couple pictures of Eddie. For the memories... Obviously.

They were insane. You couldn't really understand the words, and you could feel your headache grow, but being able to watch each of them individually and how much passion they put into their performance it was worth it.

Eddie looked like be belonged up there, like he was born to be on a stage, or at least the centre of attention. How could he not be with a face like that. His head bobbing along to the music as his fingers diligently worked up and down the neck of his guitar. His tongue jutting out over his top lip as he concentrated on the chords. His bangs were clinging to his forehead, sweat dripping down his face and onto his chest. The once loose fitting tank top now clung to his damp torso.

When he finally opened his eyes again he looked right at you but it felt like he was looking through you. It felt like your heart had stopped and time had stood still for the second time tonight. You could see Robin look at you out of the corner of your eye but refused to give her the satisfaction of looking back at her.

When the show finally ended, the entire gang was so hyped up and excited. Apparently Eddie and his band had been traveling a bit around the U.S doing small shows, and people seemed to really enjoy them!

We were all gathered around an old van at the side of the bar while the band came in and out, putting all their equipment in the back of the van. You scuffed the toe of your shoe off the ground while you waited with the rest of them. Robin and Vickie had been attached at the hip the minute Vickie entered the bar, so you drifted off to the side, afraid of bothering the rest of them.

When Eddie came out and the gang got loud again, all of them exchanging hugs, and 'welcome homes'. You leaned against the side of the van watching them, Unable to hide the smile seeing them have so much love for their friend. A heart grunt from the door next to you made you turn, one of the band guys struggling to carry something. His hand was slipping and made the weight off so you jogged over quickly to grab the other end of whatever it was that he was carrying. It looked like it was an amp.

"Thanks!" He smiled and huffed.

"I couldn't just stand there and watch you struggle" You said while straining to keep your end of the amp up high enough to lift up into the van. He let you shift your end in first, clearly noticing your slight struggle. You dusted off your hands on your shorts once the amp was successfully placed into the van.

"Thanks again" He said raising his hand up to you for a high five you smacked his hand, leaving the two of you with a stingy palm

"No problem"

"I'm Gareth by the way" he said introducing himself quickly before returning to the inside of the bar.

Going back to leaning against the van you crossed your arms over your chest, rubbing your arms and resting your hands on the tops of your shoulders, fighting off the small chill from the light breeze rolling by. Closing your eyes you leaned your forehead against the cool metal of the van, letting yourself relax into it slightly, the cold temperature soothing the dull ache behind your eyes.

"So how'd you like the show?"

Eddies voice startled your, your eyes snapping open with a small flinch.

He laughed and gave you a sympathetic smile. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you" He said holding up his hands in defence.

"It's okay" you laughed. "But I liked it. It was cool seeing you up there, very wild" You said honestly.

"I'm not like that all the time"

"What a rockstar?"

"Well yeah, I'm just a big nerd, town freak, all that good stuff" He said shrugging with a small smile.

"Aren't we all?" You asked tilting your head to the side. "Probably why we all get along so well huh?" You nod towards the slowly dispersing group of friends.

He laughed, shoving his hands deep into his pockets, leaning back onto the balls of his feet, with his shoulders tucked up high near his ears. The loud bang of the doors of the van closing made the both of us jump.

"Good to go Ed" Gareth said giving him a thumbs up.

"Thanks man" Eddie said with a salute. He turned back to you quickly. "Where you staying? Steves?"

"Uh yeah"

"I'll drive you" He said pulling out his keys from his pocket.

"Oh no that's okay I came with- Wait where did she go" You looked around for Robin, spinning in a full circle. "She left with Vickie didn't she"

"About ten minutes ago, when you were helping Gareth with the amp"

"The sex better be worth it if she's abandoning me" You say with fake annoyance.

"Your chariot awakes m'lady" He said while dipping into a bow.

"Why thank you kind sir" You quip with a terrible fake British accent, accompanied by a clumsy curtsy. Eddie reached for your hand, grabbing it and leading you up to the passenger side of the van which you now realized was his. He opened the door and continued to hold your hand to help me up and into the seat. After closing your door he jogged around the front and quickly got into the drivers seat.

You clipped in your seatbelt, setting your bag on the floor by your feet. "Is it okay if I cross my legs?" You asked looking towards him.

"Yeah why wouldn't it be?" He said turning around, one hand placed on the back of your headrest as he reversed out of the parking spot. You could smell him like this, sweat, beer, and some sort of cologne you couldn't decipher.

"Didn't know if you were one of those car people" You joke while tucking your legs up and crossing them.

"You mean like Steve?" He said glancing at you.

"Exactly that"

"This van is probably older than me, it reeks of weed and cigarettes, you could pretty much do anything in here, I don't mind"

"I'll keep that in mind for when I have to pee" You tease. "I'll just pee my pants"

He scrunched his nose. "Okay maybe no pissing on my seats"

"Too late, I make no promises"

"You're funny. I like it"

"Oh, uh, thank you" You blush looking down at your hands, suddenly finding the nail polish on them very interesting.

"So, tell me about yourself"

You groan. "That's like the worst way to get to know someone!"

"How is that the worst way to get to know someone? It's such a simple question!" He argued.

"Oh it absolutely isn't! It's like the worst question they ask you at job interviews, I never know what they want to hear!"

He laughed loudly and you couldn't help but laugh with him. His head tilting back slightly. "Okay well what do you want me to know about you?"

"Oh fuck that seems even harder... Let me think about that for a moment" You said, and he let you. You sat in silence for a few minutes while you racked your brain for anything you thought was maybe interesting enough about yourself to tell him.

"I like taking pictures?" You say, catching a side glance at him.

"What do you like to take pictures of?" He asked without a beat, his fingers tapping against the steering wheel.

"Anything really, I journal them often"

"You journal them?"

"Yeah, I tape them into a notebook, with kind of like a diary entry about whatever I wanna write about, and then I'll say something about the pictures and then cover the page with stickers and doodles"

"Are you gunna put the pictures of me in there?"

Your heart squeezed. "Yeah I might" you admit "You gunna be jealous if I don't?"

"My heart would be absolutely crushed princess" He said while taking one hand off of the wheel to clutch at his heart.

Princess.

A small giggled bubbled in your chest, and a snort escaped amongst the laugh you let out.

"What a wonderful sound that is" he said with a dreamy sounding sigh.

"What is?"

"Your laugh" he said turning to glance at you.

#hellfiremunsonn #hellfiremunsonn stuckwithme #eddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things fic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #Eddie Munson fic #Eddie Munson x you #eddie munson x female reader

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lovebeinaprincessworld · 2 years

Text

Will you try? - Two

(Felix Volturi x reader)

After well over a year I finally wrote something to post again. I swear, I have so many ideas I’m just too lazy ahaha, anyway I hope you like it! This sorry will probably take a while to finish, but alle the parts have a kind off closed ending so it’s still satisfying to read if you know what I mean <3

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5

Masterlist

Description: After dealing with the Newborn Army in Washington, Felix comes home to you.

Warnings: Slight mentions of smut

1666 words

You’ve been living in the castle in Volterra for about four months now and Felix was away on a mission. At first he didn’t want to tell you what it was about, but after you got on his nerves enough he finally told you it was regarding the red headed vampire Victoria, who was after your cousin. Apparently she wanted to revenge her mate James that the Cullens killed after he bit and tried to kill Bella. And now Victoria was assembling a newborn army to kill the Cullens and your cousin. You were trying to wrap your head around how Bella managed to get herself into these situations for a long time now, since you were kids. But then again you were one to talk, living in a castle in Italy with your vampire mate. Maybe it was because you two were related.

You insisted on going with Felix, Demetri, Alec and Jane, but after a heated argument, Felix put his foot down and while you pouted, you backed down and stayed behind. So you lounged around in your shared room and binge watched a few shows, Heidi sometimes joining you when she wasn’t on duty. She was your closest friend in the castle, even though you had the feeling that Jane was slowly beginning to crack and warm up to you too, which got Felix speechless, as he’d known her for centuries and she still didn’t like him.

While you where watching (Y/F/S) for the nth time, your phone chimed. Hello my love, we just landed so I’ll be there in about an hour, can’t wait to see you, it read and immediately a smile lit up your face. You really missed him while he was gone, it’s crazy how it’s only been four months and you were head over heels in love with the giant vampire. Neither of you said the three words yet, but you knew it was because Felix wanted to give you time and not send you running for the hills. That’s great baby, I can’t wait! I missed you, you answered and threw the blanket off you.

It was already 8pm, but you still wanted to brush your teeth and look somewhat presentable when he arrived. That’s one thing you were always insecure about, vampires could see everything so very clear and detailed, every pore, pimple, hair. You were glad all the rooms in the castle were soundproofed, otherwise you’d probably had to go to the next restaurant to use the bathroom with the knowledge everyone in the castle could hear you otherwise. You were sure the vampires were happy about the soundproofed walls too, glad they didn’t have to hear each other all the time. Leaving the bathroom you sat back down on the couch and resumed your show, waiting for your mate to come back.

Half an hour later the door finally opened and an exhausted looking Felix stepped in, as far as vampires can look exhausted. You immediately jumped up from the couch, the blanket falling on the floor, and made your way over to him. “Hey”, you smiled and as soon as your eyes locked, a smile made its way on his face. “Il mio amore”, he replied and opened his arms for you to step into. Your face pressed to his sculpted chest, he embraced you and bent down slightly to put his cheek on your head.

“Are you alright?”, you asked, muffled by his chest. “Now that I’m back here with you, I am”, he answered making you giggle. “You can be so sappy”, you smiled and you could practically hear him grin. “You know, back in my times people called that romantic”, he lectured you with a laugh and pulled you to the couch with him. Before your butt could hit the cushion, he sped to the coatrack by the door and took off his coat, before sitting right next to you. Even though you’ve seen him do this a thousand times already, your heart still skipped a beat. “I`ll never get used to that”, you breathed holding your hand to your heart. “Don’t worry my love, I mean at the bottom line your body is made to react to a predator like that”, he grinned and - just to prove his point you felt - was leaning over you a second later with his hands on either side of your head, your back pushed into the pillows behind you. And to his satisfaction your heart sped up again.

“You’re an idiot”, you laughed, lacing you’re fingers behind his neck, his smile shifting from playful to genuine. “Is this idiot finally getting a kiss though?”, he asked and with a smile you leaned up towards him, but he was already leaning down to meet your lips. Even though his body temperature was considerably lower than yours, you never felt more comfortable and at home than in his arms, with his lips on yours. You’ve kissed people before, but no one could ever come even close to the way you felt when Felix held your cheek with one hand, while slowly deepening the kiss. He was always like this, the perfect gentleman, especially compared to the teenage boys you’ve had experience with before him. But with his tall, muscular frame propped up above you and his tongue starting to trace your lips, you’d be lying if you’d say you weren’t thinking about more inappropriate things he could be doing with his tongue.

But if you tried to bring up the idea of having sex again, you knew exactly what he would say. That he’s afraid he’d hurt you - or even worse, not being able to control his own strength, especially with him being even stronger than a normal vampire (as if that didn’t turn you on even more). This seemed to be a vampire thing in general though, considering Bella told you Edward was the exact same when you last talked to her over the phone. It was good to have someone kinda being able to relate, especially to everything you had to give up. But all of that didn’t mean you wanted it any less. And it also didn’t mean you could control getting turned on by the attractive vampire on top of you, making Felix groan deeply and pull away.

“Damn you smell so good, you’re making this really hard tesoro”, he breathed, his hands clutching the fabric of the couch tightly while you laid under him flushed and panting. Taking another breath in, he clenched his eyes shut and buried his face in your neck with a moan. “Maybe that’s the plan”, you laughed breathlessly, stroking the hair at the nape of his neck making him sigh. “You know we can’t”, he whispered against the sensitive skin of your neck, your body almost reacting instinctively, clutching your legs together a little more. You could feel his body stiffen immediately. “I know, I know, but…we haven’t even tried, have we? And you seem to be in control just fine when we make out, so-“, you tried once again to convince him, your hands gripping the front of his shirt. “Love, there’s a considerable difference between making out and having sex”, he said smirking while pulling away from your neck and looking at you with those red eyes that made your knees weak.

“Yeah, yeah I know that, but-“, you tried again, but he immediately interrupted you with a slightly tense look: “What do you mean you know?” “Just because I’m a virgin, doesn’t mean I haven’t done anything before, we’re living in the twenty first century after all”, you said rolling your eyes at his possessive nature (trying to hide it also made you feel a certain way). This conversation wasn’t really going in the direction you wanted it to, because now he looked positively pissed off. You really did forget sometimes that his views and morals were from a different millennia, getting yourself in trouble once again. “Other men have…touched you before?”, he asked with a dangerously calm voice, his eyes narrowed on you. “Uhm…I wouldn’t say men, more like boys or someth…”, your voice chocking up under his fiery gaze, your hands slowly releasing his shirt while the hand on your hip tightened her grip. After staring at you for a few seconds with furrowed brows, seemingly thinking about something he finally opened his mouth: “Alright, we will try.”

You must’ve looked like a deer caught in the headlights, because he adds with a smirk: “Not today though, don’t worry amore.” Before you could muster up an answer he already claimed your lips again with a short, but passionate kiss before pulling back and leaving you breathless again. “If I’d known making you jealous would make it happen, I would have tried that months ago”, you giggled, beaming up at him with joy. “Don’t get your hopes up love, I can’t promise you anything”, he said with a serious look, shifting you both so that he was laying on his back with you on top, your head comfortably against his shoulder.

“I know, thank you for trying though baby”, you smiled, pressing a small kiss to his neck. He hummed, his eyebrows furrowing again slightly. “I really don’t like the idea of other men touching you”, he shared his feelings making you giggle slightly. “Don’t worry my love, since the day I met you I knew you’d be the only touching me from now on”, you promised smiling, feeling him relax underneath you. He pulled the blanket over both of you, knowing he’s cooling you down.

“(Y/N)”, he quietly said while pressing a kiss to your head. “Mhm?”, you hummed, your eyes closed, satisfied with having him back in your arms. “I love you”, he whispered, making your heart skip a beat. You immediately pushed yourself back up, looking into his eyes completely stunned. Considering he was such a strong and tall man, he looked kind off unsure right now waiting for your reaction. But you didn’t even have to think about it, a smile forming on your face. “I love you”, you whispered back. His face relaxed right away and he was pulling you down to meet your lips in another kiss, this one more soft and gentle than the others.

——————

A small explanation as to why (Y/N) didn’t say “I love you too”: I read somewhere, a long time, that when someone says “I love you too” it feels like they’re just like accepting or confirming what the first person said instead of really meaning that they love the other person and it kind off stuck with me.

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maladaptiv3 · 1 year

Text

i have found what you are like

I mean...how could I not?

Content: A nice lazy, rainy Sunday morning reading on the couch.

Warning: age gap, a little possessive, it’s kind of cheesy but I don’t really care! lol

I started this piece a long time ago and I am just hitting a wall...so here is what I have so far. I don’t know if I will finish it.

Word Count: 1174

*original content by maladaptiv3* please do not repost my work

(new screen name hey)

The soft patter of the rain on the roof was the only sound that filled the house for most of the day. The back door was open slightly and there was a now damp towel near the opening that had been placed to catch the bouncing raindrops from the patio outside.

Your Sundays were a ritual—his eyelashes on your cheek beckoning you to wake up, eyes still heavy with sleep as you lift your cup of coffee to your lips, arranging farmers market flowers as he finishes carrying in the rest of your treasures—but it was raining today. The rain was a welcomed distraction, it shifted your routine in a way that you had been craving. It had been a long while since you had enjoyed each other's silence. Silence seemed to be rare in his world. You only experienced pockets of it, stolen away from everyone's eyes. He woke you up that morning, pulling you into him, and melting into you, "It's raining, love." You hummed, "My favorite." The rain made the morning move in slow motion. There was no early morning coffee or having to find parking at the already getting crowded farmers market. "Let's have coffee in bed. I'll go make it," his smile was sweet. You scrunched up your nose, "I wanna watch the rain." He was amused, "Of course you do."

Your mind wandered back to the current moment. Your back was against the arm of the couch and your legs were bent at the knee. A warm blanket was in your lap, covering one-half of you. You had a book in one hand and the other was running its fingers through his hair. He was settled between your thighs, slightly propped up on a throw pillow. His fingers were tracing lines on your shin as he turned the page of his book with the other. You mused, wondering how you had the privilege to live in this perfect moment. If you could bottle it, you would. His hand would occasionally ghost up your leg and settle on your thigh, his arm stretching slightly so he could grip it. You would slightly tug on his hair, playfully of course, "Shh...I'm reading." He would squeeze your thigh once more before going back to the words on his page, "I didn't say anything." He didn't have to say anything. This was a game you knew all too well. The rain was still falling outside and you wanted to bask in this feeling for as long as you could. The comfort of just merely touching each other was enough to keep you going for days.

After a while, you heard him sigh. You put the business card posing as your bookmark back into your book, "Something on your mind?" He laid his book down flat on his chest, "You've been reading that book for years, you think you would have finished it by now." You rolled your eyes, "I've been finished. I just like to revisit it. It's one of my favorites." He sat up to face you, his legs crossed in front of him, "Well, what about it makes you revisit it?" You were astonished, "You're telling me that Mr. Booksnob himself has never read Jane Eyre? It's a classic." "Hey! I am not a book snob." "You kind of are." He took the book from your hands and examined the cover, "So, what is it about?" You took a minute to think, "It's about a homely governess who falls in love with the older man she's working for." His fingers were drumming against the book, "What's with you and older men?" You snatched the book back from him, "That's just what's on the surface. It's a story of painful love, independence, and feminism." He nodded, "Now, that makes more sense. Read me some." "Like what?" "Read me something that reminds you of me." You had it highlighted. It was a new quote you liked. The spine was not yet used to the continuous flipping to the page every time you pulled out your beloved copy. You licked your lips and cleared your throat a bit, "All my heart is yours, sir: it belongs to you; and with you it would remain, were fate to exile the rest of me from your presence forever." He blinked a few times and seemed to be entranced by the words you just spoke, "You belong to me?" You swallowed hard, "This book isn't about us." Your breathing was shallow as you waited for him to say something. His eyes were fixed on yours, "Do you belong to me?" You were quick to nod your head up and down, "Yes." He ghosted his lips over yours, "Good answer. Kind of anti-feminist, though?" You pressed your lips against his, "Is it?"

You pulled back, "Your turn to share. What are you reading?" He took his book from its place on the coffee table, "Poetry." You wiggle the thin green book out of his grip, "I've never really been a fan." His jaw dropped, "You? Miss I Buy A Book every time I leave the house, doesn't enjoy poetry?" "I guess not." He took his book back, "Well, it's only fair I read you something." You reached out trying to take the book from him, "Can I choose?" He clutched onto it, "Absolutely not." He began to flip through the pages, "You at least know who E.E. Cummings is, right?" You shook your head, almost offended, "Obviously." He found the page he was looking for, "I think you'll enjoy this one."

His lips parted and he set down the book:

i have found what you are like the rain,

(Who feathers frightened fields with the superior dust-of-sleep. wields

easily the pale club of the wind and swirled justly souls of flower strike

the air in utterable coolness

deeds of green thrilling light with thinned newfragile yellows

lurch and.press

-in the woods which stutter and

sing

And the coolness of your smile is stirringofbirds between my arms;but i should rather than anything have(almost when hugeness will shut quietly)almost, your kiss

You guys just stared at each other for a second.

Your chest was tight and tears started to well in your eyes, "That was beautiful." He look worried and cupped your face with his hands, "No, no, no -- why are you crying?"

Your chest was tight as you tried to keep the tears from welling in your eyes, "You memorized that?" He nodded and took your hands in his, "I find myself searching for it when I'm thinking of you. Sometimes I get asked what it's like to love you and I always tell them to read this poem. I never understood what Cummings meant when he wrote about someone being like rain until I fell in love with you." You just looked at him, your thumb brushing his, "I wouldn't believe that coming from anyone else, but for some reason, I believe it from you. I also think you kind of want to get laid, but I still believe it."

#andrew garfield #andrew garfield fanfiction #andrew garfield fanfic #andrew garfield smut #swag #andrew garfield imagine

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sleepy-writer-daydreams · 6 months

Text

Glimpse of Us

Ethan Morgan x GN!Reader

word count: 879 words

summary: you and ethan are dating, but he's not over sarah. and you can tell

a/n: image credit goes to sierra morgan on pinterest! im like so normal about ethan (not. i make him suffer but the next one of him will be fluff).

tags: angst/mild comfort ? not a happy ending

You looked into Ethan's eyes. They were entirely forced on yours, and you were both leaning in for a kiss. It wasn't until he put a hand around your waist and got you closer did he start to hesitate. You slightly pulled back from his face, your eyes staring deep into his once more.

"...What's wrong, Ethan?" You asked softly. You weren't sure how to feel about this, really. Ethan laughed awkwardly and shook his head, as if to get rid of something.

"Nothing, nothing."

You sighed, his arm dropping from your waist and going back to his side. He gave you a look, almost like a wounded puppy. You felt a stab of guilt, but you came to a sudden realization.

You had to put your foot down this time. You couldn't keep doing this, not when it was only damaging you and Ethan the longer this went on.

"...Ethan, can we talk for a second? Really talk."

His questioning eyes searched yours for an answer, but there wasn't any. There was a sense of defeat, if anything. He sat down on the couch, making sure to make room for you. You sat down beside him. You came here after school, and Jane was in her room.

So there was no good time as the present! Swallowing down a rush of nerves, you turned to face him. "Sometimes, it still feels like you have feelings for Sarah." His face paled when you said that, but he didn't deny it. You felt nauseous.

You wanted him to deny it, maybe even protest and ask why you would ask him such a thing, that you were the only person he'd ever have eyes for. But you knew that was asking him for too much.

You lightly touched his shoulder, and he stiffened, eyes glazing over immediately. You sighed. He was probably going through something, again. He never told you what he was going through in the few months you were dating, which lead to arguments almost every other week.

You weren't oblivious, ignorant, or naive. Something was weird in this time, but it always felt like you were going crazy that no one was addressing it.

A few seconds had only passed when his eyes had refocused, but it had felt like hours. He looked at you fearfully. "You're... you're not breaking up with me, are you?"

You rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly. You wanted to tell him no. But his actions had answered your question, a burning question that had been nagging for you since the day he agreed to go out with you. "I am, actually."

You waited for him to protest, again. Do something, anything, without looking at you like he had just lost something that he thought he wouldn't ever lose.

"Ethan. You're always dropping dates with me and going to Sarah whenever she needs help with something. You made me walk by myself! In the dark! You know this town is creepy, it's not safe!"

He opened his mouth to speak, but you held up a finger. "Shut up. I'm not finished. Whenever you touch me sometimes, you're always getting this dazed... look, in your eyes? Like you're not entirely here. And you either excuse yourself or go back to normal. But you almost always go to Sarah. Or Benny." You laughed. Not a genuine laugh, but a short, brief laugh.

"It's laughable. I've seen the way you look at her. And you don't have that look when you're with me. I'm sorry I couldn't be what she is. I know you say you're fine, but you're not."

You were foolish. Foolish to have a crush on an adorable dork who was into Star Wars and the X-Men and anything equally as nerdy.

"I'm breaking up with you."

"Yeah, I heard you the first time." He mumbled.

"Okay. Do you have any excuses? Reasons? Explanations? Try and defend yourself, Ethan. You can do it for everyone else but yourself. It's pathetic."

His eyes darted around. "...I'm a seer."

"What?"

"A seer, like I see things. I can see things from the future when I touch people sometimes, and--"

"Ethan," You sighed. "You're crying." You leaned in to dry some of his tears, but he pulled away.

"Don't. I-I- My friends, they're-- They're just like me, but not like me. I didn't want you to get involved, to get you hurt--" He sniffled.

"You don't have to worry about that, love." It's not like they ever had a choice, to stay blissfully unaware of everything around them. Everything really was in plain sight. It was stupid to think that he'd feel the same way as you.

"It's too late for us. I'm sorry." You picked up your backpack, slinging it over your shoulder. You went by the door. Refusing to look at him for quite possibly the last time, you opened the door. "Have a nice life, Ethan Morgan." You called out. And shut the door.

Maybe it was for the best you didn't see him crying, covering his face. Sure, he was still in love with Sarah. He never meant to hurt you. But he guessed that he did that anyways to you by agreeing to date you.

Its too late now, anyways.

♡♡♡

a/n: lmk what you guys think !!!!! i wrote this.. when. maybe a year ago? almost? insane! here's to writing more mbav fics!

#mbav ethan #ethan morgan x reader #my babysitters a vampire #trying to tag this is insane im so bad at tagging you guys #mbav fanfic #a's fanfiction #also i dont remember who said this but #i dont think people can actually See when ethan gets his visions they just happen #the white in his eyes are just to show Us the Viewers whats happening

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crushedsweets · 10 months

Note

neeed to hear the context behind ur most recent art. please enlighten us

you guys dont even know how excited i get when someone asks smth like this abt my art or headcanons or au.

i actually wrote liek a fucking essay oh my god im so sorry anon ill have the actual drawing context after the big bolded caps

TW for typical creepypasta story type stuff

anyway ok UNNECESSARY BACKSTORY: liu spent a long time trying to just psychologically recover from everything. he hated jeff and he hated the memory of everything. jeff signature murders would occur every now and again, each time liu would fall into a deep depression. the murders stopped for a while, and everyone believed jeff 'retired' or died. liu was conflicted about it. until Jeff committed his final full-blown 'jeff fashion' murder (janes family) in tuscaloosa alabama. liu had another breakdown and ended up moving to tuscaloosa because he was completely convinced he needed to find jeff again because he could fix it (or die trying and he'd be fine with that too)

nina was always one of those girls obsessed with 'true crime' but like.... the murderers instead of the cases. she was 12 when jeff's first rampage happened and she just fell head over heels in love with this freak. she began to act out, miss school for days, sneaking out to meet older people, etc etc. eventually she did the classic jeff smile cut into her face(she pussied out on making it like jeffs, so she has cleaner, less noticeable scars) . she started getting severely bullied (for being creepy and worshipping a literal murderer) and her parents sent her to live with her grandparents in mississpi. she started stalking liu through social media and whitepages when jeff was presumed dead. but eventually, jeff's final murder happened in alabama(a state away from her) and after turning 18, she ran away to go find jeff convinced he would 'save her' from the life she created for herself. nina got wrapped up in slenderman business because of her constant Tom Foolery. she met her idol

JEFF IS A BAD PERSON IN EVERY SENSE OF THE WORD. he did a beautiful job in using his #1 fangirl and enjoying the worship. she scrambled for pennies to afford an apartment, she'd sleep on the couch if he wanted to use her bed, she's ride her bike hours to go get weed or something from rando drug dealers that give better deals to pretty girls, make him food, do his damn laundry, literally anything and everything bc THATS HER MAAANNNNN (no he isnt.)

jeff DOES NOT GIVE A FUUUCK about everything nina does for him . one day he finds her trying to creepily get into contact with liu (and liu actually responded) and he loses his shit and stabs her and goes on and on about how 'you ruined your own useless fucking life your family is never going to take you back you did this to yourself' etc. he didn't intend to kill her only cuz he knew she'd forgive him and he liked all the shit she gave him

NOW ABOUT THE DRAWING ITSELF:::::

afterwards nina gets patched up from jeff stabbing her, she has some weird 'liu will save me' spiral (not romantically just in a very literal 'he can fix this' way). liu's been on his own spiral since finding out jeffs alive which is the only reason he even gave nina the time of day. eventually she ends up at his house to 'talk about jeff' bc she sent him creepy pics proving she knew jeff yadayadayada.

im not sure the exact conversation i imagined for the drawing, BUT liu eventually says something that sets nina off and she tears at her stitches and breaks down and drips blood all over his kitchen talking about 'I CAN MAKE HIM LOVE ME AGAIN I JUST NEED YOUR HELP PLEAAASEEEE' or something.

liu's a good man, much to his own detriment, and can't help but comfort this kid who's bleeding and crying in his kitchen at the fault of his own brother. he's all too familiar with wanting to repair his relationship with jeff, despite the amount of rage, betrayal, misery, etc he felt at jeffs hands. he doesn't ACTUALLY want to reconnect with jeff, but it's a very deep internal longing for the baby brother he once had that VERY RARELY overshadows his hatred

i want to reaffirm that liu does not feel positively about jeff at all, does not want to see him, and only moved to alabama b/c of a long ass mental health crises and is now too wrapped up in new financial commitments(plus jane) to move again. and now he feels obligated to help nina

he just misses being a big brother :( not so much the jeff part

also none of this at all is shipping at all i am terrified at the idea of people taking anything romantically . even if nina is in 'love' with jeff its purely for the story/horror . ITS ALL REALLY BAD

#creeped #hcs #guys i dont know why i keep doing this LMFAO IM SORRY ANON I TALK TOO MUCH I ... theres something in my brain #asks #soisjkhjdgvdkj #should i tag this as liu and nina... ok fuck it #homicidal liu #nina the killer #i literally have no feelings towards jeff as a character.. but the amount of people he ruined in his path ? damn . ok. got me

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magniloquent-raven · 1 year

Text

everybody's saving grace

(cw the karen and billy thing. but this is mostly about joyce finding out and getting protective of billy, so)

(read on ao3)

Jane didn't speak for seven days after they lost Hop.

Joyce made space for her in their home, accommodated as best she could. Will offered her his room and promised he didn't mind sharing with Jon, they used to bunk together on the rare weekends when Lonnie remembered he had kids anyways. More often than not though, Jane would sneak into Joyce's room in the middle of the night, awkwardly hovering in the doorway until Joyce patted the empty space next to her and Jane would crawl into the covers silently, cheeks wet with tears.

That first night Joyce tried to talk to her about it, with soft words and a story or two about the trouble she and Hop used to get up to as teens, hoping to coax a smile out of her, or at the very least a story of her own in response. Something. Anything. She tried to tell herself it was only because she was trying to help, but there was a selfish part of her deep down that just wanted someone to share her grief. Jane was the only other person in the world who felt his loss as much as she did, and she needed help shouldering the burden.

But Jane would only listen. Curled on her side and squeezing Joyce's hand, blinking up at her with red-rimmed eyes.

Joyce would wait until Jane fell asleep to shed her own tears. She's up at all hours nowadays, watching every shadow, listening in the dark, a cigarette between her shaking fingers. Her boys have noticed, she knows it. Jon's picking up more slack than usual, cooking meals and cleaning house and making sure Will is always accounted for. And Will. Will has barely said more than Jane has. He's always been a quiet boy, but…well.

Even his friends spending all their time around the house hasn't brightened his mood. Mike has been glued to Jane's side, getting more and more drawn and frustrated the longer she goes without speaking. Dustin and Lucas have been the loudest of the group, trying desperately to fill the silence, and Joyce can't say she isn't grateful for it. The house feels more full when they're here. It's easier to keep busy and not let her mind wander.

On the seventh day after the mall fire, Max Mayfield asks her if she can spend the night. She's been paler than usual. Withdrawn, but only when no one is looking.

Joyce puts a gentle hand on her shoulder, "Of course."

She gives the girls her room, and says she'll sleep on the couch. No one believes her, but they don't bring it up. She sits at the kitchen table alone, fiddling with the ashtray Jon made her when he was eight. There's a chip in it from when Will, young and clumsy, dropped it while trying to present it to her with all the puffed-chest pride of a toddler given a task.

He cried for twenty minutes after that. No amount of hugs and forehead kisses would get him to calm down until Jon told him, his dark brown eyes big and solemn, that he hadn't broken it, he'd given it some character.

Things were so much simpler back then.

Not easier, not really, just…less complicated.

At two am she decides to brush the stale coffee taste out of her mouth, but stops dead in her tracks on the way to the bathroom.

"I hate him," Max's quiet sniffling filters muffled through the closed door.

She shouldn't be eavesdropping. But she can't…not. The walls are thin, and the floor creaks, and she can't move without everyone in the house knowing she's frozen awkwardly in her own hallway.

Well. She toes at the carpet with socked feet. She might be able to sneak away. Maybe. But…

She's concerned.

God, she's becoming her mother. Nosy to a fault.

"I'm just…I'm just so angry, you know? He—he saved your life, and I'm grateful for that, but," she pauses, and there's rustling, a sigh, "Stupid asshole up and left me. Everything we've been through and he…he's gone, just like that, it's not fucking fair."

Joyce had heard about Billy Hargrove from Jonathan. Just a little bit, vague details. "There's some new guy at school," with a scrunched up face, nose wrinkled with distaste. And a week later, "He got into it with Steve, knocked him around pretty bad." It made Joyce nervous, whenever she saw him around town, picking up cigarettes from the store on the corner, driving that loud car of his up main street. She'd always think of the Harrington boy's face, bruised and swollen, the worst-case-scenario that used to haunt her thoughts after Lonnie gave Jon a black eye when he was ten.

Then, "Max's brother, he, uh…" Solemn brown eyes. It's not broken it has character. "He got…possessed, I guess." Standing in the Starcourt parking lot with a shock blanket around his shoulders, sweat matted in his hair, Jonathan pieced together what he knew. It wasn't much, and she couldn't stop thinking about Hop's teary nod, the white light that burned her eyes even though she closed them, the empty space where he'd been standing seconds before.

She feels horrible now, for only half-listening. For not giving much thought to the boy who died saving Jane.

He was just a kid. Only a few years older than Will.

"How did he even get caught up in this bullshit?" Max's voice breaks, despite the force of her anger, cracks under the strain of her grief. "Did…did you see? When you looked into his memories."

The silence is heavy. Strained. Joyce chews the inside of her cheek. She doesn't expect Jane to reply, and figuring she's heard enough she goes to tiptoe away.

"Yes."

Joyce freezes. Jane's voice is barely more than a crackly whisper, but unmistakable. There's a pang in her chest at the sound of it, emotion welling up, thick in the back of her throat.

"What happened?"

She can't help leaning in a little, stopping just shy of pressing her ear directly to the door.

"It was…nighttime. He was driving." There's a pause. "Mrs. Wheeler wanted to see him."

…What?

"What?" Max echoes, breathlessly scandalized. She can't think it was like that. Was it?

No, there's got to be an innocent explanation. She struggles to come up with one, but it must exist. Karen is her friend. Sort of. They went to school together. They've known each other their whole lives. Back when they were teenagers Karen had a bit of a reputation, sure, she was a ditz with lofty romantic notions and a string of boyfriends willing to play along, but she's settled since she got married, and she isn't a predator.

"He was going to. A mo-tel," Jane sounds out the syllables carefully, a child repeating an unfamiliar word.

Joyce's heart drops.

Her first, and worst, thought is about how that boy used to parade around town, drawing as much attention as possible. She'd never seen him with the same girl twice, and she'd never seen him in modest, weather-appropriate clothes. Karen was always weak for a flirty guy, she was easy to take in with a few flattering words, and by the time she realized they didn't mean any of it they'd already gotten what they wanted from her.

She assumes Billy must have laid it on thick, as he was prone to do, and Karen fell for it, like she always did.

But that was when she was a teenager too. When she was a silly, impressionable girl, not a married woman with three children of her own.

Her children, Christ. Joyce's stomach turns. Billy was in Nancy's year. He was Jonathan's age.

Bile burns the back of her throat.

She'd been hearing gossip about Karen and half her book club spending every day at the pool all summer and she hadn't thought anything of it. Not a goddamn thing. How long had it been going on? Was she sleeping with him when he was still in school?

Joyce puts her head in her hands and lets out a slow, silent breath. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. She doesn't feel any calmer but she feels less like throwing up. Confused, directionless anger prickles under her skin. It's easier to be angry. At Karen for taking advantage. At herself for not caring soon enough. At everyone for not seeing it before it got him killed.

She hears Max swearing, ranting, none of it makes sense and she can only make out every other word. She's not sure Max even knows what she's saying.

There's this…itch. In her brain. That little buzz at the base of her skull, when she needs to get up and do something, when she can't sit still, stay quiet, but. But there's nothing she can do. There's nothing to be done.

Her fingers clench in her hair, hands trembling as she aimlessly pushes her bangs back.

She can't do a goddamn thing.

It takes Joyce three weeks to lose her shit.

She's been trying to get Jane settled in—with a few new things and a lot of hand-me-downs, she's tall enough to fit into a lot of Joyce's old clothes—but it's been…challenging. She still barely speaks. Joyce isn't sure if that's normal for her, and that's part of the problem. As much as she wants to take care of this child she barely knows her, and the universe doesn't seem to be that keen on giving her the time to change that.

Because she has…a lot on her mind. Looking into places to move, for one. Sunny places. With minimal suspicious deaths. And work has been much busier now that the mall has burned down. And people all over town are still talking about it, people who have no idea. Who don't know. They still pat her hand and tell her Hop was a hero, like that will make her feel better about pulling the switch that got him killed.

And then there's…the Billy issue.

Max comes around the house a lot. Always wearing a denim jacket that smells like Marlboro Reds. Snapping at Mike more and more often. And Joyce has no clue what to say to her.

If there's even anything she could say.

She keeps…failing. She failed Will. She failed Bob. Hop. Twice over, when she couldn't get him out of that base alive. And now. His daughter is struggling. Her friends are struggling. Joyce is doing everything she can but it's not enough, and it's driving her crazy.

She can't scratch that itch in her brain, no matter what she does. No matter how much often she rents Jane's favourite movies to watch as a family, or sits with her after dinner and goes over the writing and grammar worksheets they got from the library, or insists on cooking dinner and pretends Jonathan isn't hovering over her shoulder the whole time expecting her to burn their grilled cheeses.

Because every time Max stays over they all act like they can't tell she's been crying, like they don't see her eyes go vacant whenever someone lights up a cigarette or a car engine rumbles in the background or any number of tiny things Joyce doesn't catch that must be tearing Max up inside. Joyce lets her stay and puts food on her plate and a comforting hand on her shoulder but none of it helps.

And four weeks after Billy died, Karen Wheeler walks into Melvalds General, her hair perfectly curled, a tiny, sad smile pulling at her lips when she spots Joyce in her employee vest. She's coming over, hands folded to her chest, freshly manicured nails sparkling, the picture of grace and sympathy, with her soft eyes and pouting lips.

The whole routine has never rung so hollow before. Discomfort tugs at Joyce's insides, writhing in her guts.

"Joyce," Karen calls, stepping delicately around the half-unpacked box of mouthwash on the ground. Stocking shelves has never been Joyce's favourite part of her job, but she'd rather keep doing that than have this conversation. Karen reaches out, grasping Joyce's elbow. "I'm so sorry. I should have come to see you sooner…I know you and Chief Hopper were close."

Joyce shakes her hand off. "Sort of busy here, Karen. Work. You know how…it…" She pauses, and shrugs awkwardly, gesturing to the bare shelf behind her. "I'm in the middle of something."

That earns her a frown, a pitying look, sympathy to the point of condescension. "Did you take any time off? After…you know."

Like she can afford that. Jonathan's making less at his new job than he did working for the Post and she's got another mouth to feed now. Two if she's counting Max, which she might as well.

Max, who's a ticking timebomb nowadays. A raw nerve trying to pretend she isn't. A shell of the vibrant girl Joyce met last November.

Because her brother is gone, and it's Karen Wheeler's goddamn fault.

The itch returns with a vengeance. Crawling up her spine, a thousand tiny needlepoint fingers prodding her back. Her stomach feels like dropped jello, jittering fragments smashed on the ground.

She hasn't been told, in so many words, what life in the Hargrove household was like—is like—but Max says just enough that Joyce can put the pieces together. It's not a pretty picture.

And Karen got to go back to her cushy little life, getting her nails done and making casseroles like there's nothing wrong in the world, like her children haven't been fighting monsters right under her nose for years. Doling out advice like she knows a single thing about what any of them have gone through. Walking around with her head in the clouds because she can still pretend she's living in a normal town with normal problems.

Something bitter an angry takes ahold, all spite and thorns and a gnarled lump in her throat.

"What about you, Karen?" Joyce manages to keep her voice steady, calm on the surface and cold underneath.

Karen blinks at her, tilting her head in confusion. "Me?"

"Well, you knew someone who died in the fire too."

"I…a few of them, yeah." She folds her arms around herself. "It's a small town. But I didn't know any of them that well."

"No?" Joyce grits her teeth, venom sour on her tongue. "What about Billy Hargrove?"

He died saving Hop's daughter, and no one will ever know. As much as Joyce hates that everyone has an opinion about Hopper's death, she's starting to hate even more that Max will never once be told her brother was a hero.

Calling Karen out won't change anything, Joyce is just tired of being angry in secret.

It's almost satisfying to watch the colour drain from her cheeks. Less so to see her eyes start to shine with tears. "He…taught Holly a lot. She used to be terrified of the water, you know."

There's guilt colouring her grief. If Joyce didn't know to look for it she wouldn't have been able to tell, but it's there. It's also not enough. It's the vague regret of a woman carrying one tiny little secret, a woman who carries her past but isn't haunted by it. The rest of them have ghosts that following them every waking hour but Karen doesn't seem to be aware of hers.

"I know what you were doing!" Her voice cracks this time, strains under the weight of everything she has to hold back. "Don't act dumb, I know you aren't," she snaps when Karen opens her mouth.

"I—I didn't do anything—"

"Bullshit! Half the town saw you at the pool every day, drooling all over that boy, treating him like a piece of meat." That's all he was to anyone, wasn't he. Eye candy. Cannon fodder. A body for the Mind Flayer to take and use up. Joyce's eyes sting, and she jabs a finger into Karen's shoulder. "He was a child! How do you justify—"

"He was eighteen!"

"Exactly!" Joyce throws up her hands, the rage thrumming through her flares, all motion and energy and flushed cheeks. She doesn't care that her voice is getting shrill, her hands are shaking, Karen is glancing around the store nervously. "You took advantage of him, and you should have known better!"

"Joyce—Joyce, I swear I never—I have a husband for god's sake! I was just, I was just—he was just so nice, and, and I was lonely, but I never…" She breaks into tears, shoulders shaking, she presses a hand over her mouth when a sob tries to escape her. "It was a mistake," she says, voice wet and muffled by her palm.

Joyce clenches her jaw, and grinds her teeth, swallowing some of the bile crawling up her throat. "It never should have happened in the first place. None of it."

"I know."

"He was far too young for you."

"But—"

"A teenager, Karen! He was a teenager! In high school! He should have been worrying about zits and homework and goddamn prom, not middle aged women preying on him because they're trapped in failing marriages and trying to relive their youth."

Karen's eyebrows shoot up, and she mouths wordlessly, tears still dripping down her cheeks. "That's…" she sputters. "At least I still have a husband." She winces as she says it, with an immediate look of regret.

"That's what you're going with? Really?"

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…"

"I don't give a damn what you think of me and my life. And I'm not the one you owe an apology to."

"I'm trying to do better, okay," Karen sighs, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand. She looks tired. "I'm working on my marriage. And the kids…things have been so strained lately, but…I'm trying. I really am. It's not like I ever made a habit of going around flirting with random men!"

"What about boys."

"No—listen, it wasn't like that! He was—"

"Oh please don't say 'mature for his age'."

"I'm sorry, ma'am, is there a problem here?" Joyce's manager appears around the corner of a shelf. She'd almost forgotten there are other people in the store, but suddenly she'll aware of every eye turned in their direction. The nosy old church lady in the next isle, peering through the stacks. The pair of teenagers gaping at them from over by the watch display.

It's not the first time she's been a spectacle, but it seems like Karen isn't as acclimatized. She pales, and her eyes go wide. "N—no," she pastes on an unconvincing smile.

"Joyce, that shelf is still bare."

"Yeah, yeah," she mutters, and mock-salutes. "On it."

Karen scurries out of the store, whispers following her the whole way out.

It doesn't feel like a victory. It might just make everything worse, who knows. There's petty satisfaction in seeing Karen embarrassed, but Joyce is sure she didn't get through to her, not really. She doesn't understand the depth of her mistake, and she probably never will.

Joyce scratches the back of her neck. And gets back to work.

A week later Steve Harrington shows up on her doorstep with Billy Hargrove, bloody, bruised, and half conscious, plastered to his side.

"I didn't know where else to go," he says all in a panicked rush. He wipes his forearm across his face and leaves a smudge of dirt over one eyebrow. Billy blinks at her, bleary, unfocused, seemingly unaware of Steve's vice grip on his waist, and the tiny, gentle stroke of his thumb against the arm he's swung firmly over his shoulders.

Joyce's heart is in her mouth. She swallows, and tries to stay calm. There's an open, anxious plea all over Steve's face and she needs to get him through this somehow.

"You did good, honey, bring him inside."

Will's asleep, and Jon is at work, but the door of her bedroom creaks and Jane pops her head out as Steve is hauling Billy into the living room.

She goes wide-eyed. Then teary. "Max," she says after a beat, and slips back into Joyce's room, presumably to make a phone call.

"You stay with him, okay?" Joyce pats Steve's shoulder. He's tense. Joyce wonders where exactly he found Billy, and what he had to do to get him here.

Steve nods jerkily, an perches on the coffee table across from the couch he laid Billy down on, bouncing his leg. Staring. Flexing his fingers over and over again, fists pressed to his thighs.

There's something there and Joyce doesn't have time to unpack it.

She grabs a bowl from the kitchen. Fills it with warm water. Watches the water swirl, splash, droplets clinging to the plastic sides. Her vision is a little fuzzy. She's a little light-headed.

Billy is alive.

Somehow.

It's odd, seeing him in person again. He used to scare her. She can vaguely remember it. What it was like before. When he was an unknown, a new kid projecting danger as far as he could. It's like seeing behind an optical illusion. Figuring out how a magic trick works. Realizing that he was just a moth with a flashy pattern, hoping not to get eaten.

But wherever he's been, he's lost weight, lost that mask he used to wear everywhere. He's cracked open and bleeding on her couch, looking every bit the scared kid he always was.

Her heart aches.

Steve hastily folds his arms across his chest when she walks back into the room, a first aid kit tucked under her arm and a clean cloth floating in her bowl of water.

"Is he doing alright?" Joyce asks softly, glancing between the two of them. Billy startles at the sound of her voice, and Steve folds his lips between his teeth, looking pained.

"He…um." He doesn't even glance in Joyce's direction. Not for a second. She was under the impression these two weren't friends, but maybe she was wrong. "I'm not sure."

"Okay." She plonks the bowl down next to Steve, and sits on the couch, keeping a careful distance between her and Billy. He's shaking like a leaf and she doesn't want to spook him even more. "Help me get him cleaned up a little? It'll be easier to tell if he needs medical attention."

God, she needs a cigarette. Her nerves are fried and it's taking everything she's got not to just collapse right now. She's been awake for nineteen hours and the real estate agent that was supposed to contact her today flaked, and none of that even matters right now because she just wants to do something stupid like wrap both these boys up in soft blankets and mother the hell out of them.

Steve takes the cloth, pinching it between two fingers and eyeing it like it's a bug crawling in his lunch. His movements are stilted, unsure, but Billy lets him wipe the mud from his face without incident while Joyce roots through her kit. She keeps it better stocked than she used to. And thank god for that.

Though Billy's injuries don't seem too severe, Joyce notes as Steve continues to clean him up. The way he's moving his hands might mean trouble, he winced his way through Steve's ministrations and now he's keeping them curled in his lap, stiff and shaky, bruises darkening his knuckles. But other than that they seem to mostly uncover scars.

"I, um. This water is…" Steve gestures at the bowl of murky water. His gaze flicks over Billy, jumping from his hands to his eyes to the scars crisscrossing out from under his shirt. He jumps up, suddenly, water sloshing onto the carpet as he picks up the bowl. "I'll be right back," he announces, voice high and strained.

Joyce blinks at his retreating back. Then turns to Billy, whose gaze is lingering on the doorway Steve disappeared through. "So, you two are close, huh?"

He startles, and recoils, and shakes his head. "Not really." His voice is croaky, low and dry. She should've gotten him water to drink too.

He's fidgeting, anxious, unable to meet her eye, like a kid caught doing something they shouldn't.

"Well, he seems to care about you."

She doesn't expect the tears that well up in his eyes, spilling over without warning. He ducks his head like he's trying to hide it, but she's already seen. And there's no hiding the way his shoulders shake as he tries to steady his breathing.

Her heart breaks for him. Like it has been, again and again, for weeks now.

"Oh, honey," she says quietly, sadly, and he finally looks up at her, eyes shiny, cheeks wet. They look nothing alike, not really, but she's struck by an image of Will, three years old and bawling his eyes out over a chipped ashtray. The same feeling wells up in her chest, the same overpowering need to scoop him up in her arms and keep him away from anything that's ever hurt him.

She slides over and pulls him into a hug.

"You're okay now, it's okay."

He's tense, and trembling, and she thinks maybe she did the wrong thing here, but then he shatters, with a tiny, wounded noise, collapses against her, tucked into the crook of her neck like Jonathan used to when he was having trouble sleeping and she'd have to carry him for hours while he dozed.

He's okay. She'll make sure of it.

~tag list @spreckle @growup-thatbeautiful @prettyboy-like-you @suddenlyinlove

#stranger things #joyce byers #billy hargrove #harringrove #(implied harringrove)#i didn't mean to finish this fic on mothers day but here we are lmao #joyce is a mess but she's doing her best #a raven's writing desk

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fancyfeathers · 7 months

Text

Society of Protection (Yandere Bungo Stray Dogs x reader x original characters) (normalized yandere au)

Chapter Seven

Two Sides, Part Two

You all have chosen A.) Gaston and Dr. Stevenson have a meeting scheduled with high ranking Japanese government officials, the vice minister of the Ministry of Justice, Tonan, who may be willing you listen to your Society about some change

Prologue and oc intro

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter six

Chapter seven, part one

“Gaston and Dr. Stevenson .”

Miss Jane nodded and looked over to the the two on the opposite couch for approval and Gaston nodded in approval. “Very well then, I suppose I’ll be off with Alexandre and Victor. I am quite handy with a hand gun.” Miss Jane said, smoothing her gown, “besides my ability isn’t well suited for combat.”

Now that you think about it, you have never seen or even heard about Miss Jane’s ability besides in passing that she has one at the very least

So now you decide to ask. “Miss Jane, if I may ask, what is your ability?”

The room fell silent and everyone turned to Miss Jane, except Dr. Stevenson who leaned back on her seat, her eyes shut, a smile on her face, and her hands folded in her lap. Miss Jane also smiled but she walked over to you, peeling off her silk gloves as she did so. She extended her hand to you for you to take. “If you may, touch my hand.” As she said this you got a worried expression on your face. She noticed this and gave a little chuckle. “It’s alright, I won’t hurt you.”

You trusted her words so you placed your hand in her own and immediately you felt a relaxing pulse flow through your body, washing away all your stress and fear you had building up with in you for the last few weeks.You saw a light flow admitting from where Miss Jane’s flesh touched your own. You tried to wonder what was going on but your mind felt far too muddled to think. Then Miss Jane released your hand and put her glove back on, your mind returned to you but of course you still felt so calm, so calm, almost unnaturally so. There was a hum heard from over the couch, Dr. Stevenson. “Miss Jane’s ability, Pride and Prejudice, when she touches someone she is able to read their emotions and thoughts and manipulate their thoughts and emotions as long as she is in physical contact with them.”

“Yes, but it doesn’t last very long though after its usage, its effect on you will probably only last a few minutes.” Jane added with a bit of an embarrassed smile. “I may be the leader of the Society but my gift is the weakest out of us all.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Jane. You know what your gift can do.” Gaston stepped in with a push of his glasses, the light reflecting off them just right so that you couldn’t see his eyes. “It’s how she got away from Fitzgerald, she used it to the point of nearly passing out to sedate him. From what I heard he was in a haze for almost two days.”

“Yes, but Gaston remember if it wasn’t for Dr. Stevenson being nearby I would have passed out myself or worse.” Miss Jane stepped back over to the table in between the couches and picked up a cream file and handed it over to Victor. “Changing the subject now, this is your case. It contains photos of the the individuals you will be keeping an eye on.“ Victor opened the file, looking it over and then tucking it away in his bag that he kept at his feet. Miss Jane then looked at you, Gaston, and Dr. Stevenson. “Dr. Stevenson is in charge on this mission. It is a simple meeting with Mr. Tonan.”

Gaston stood up, dusting off his jacket. Me reached into his pocket and jailed out a set of keys with a smile. “Alright, but I’m driving.”

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The drive to the the government building Mr. Tonan’s office was in was quick enough, Gaston drove and surprisingly he was a very good driver. On the way there you watched Dr. Stevenson go over her notes, seemingly nervous for a meeting, apparently Gaston noticed it as well and spoke as he drove. “Doctor, don’t worry, you’ll do fine.”

She sighed and set her notes down. She reached a hand up and rubbed her temples as if she had a headache. “Yes but Louis would be much better at this than I.”

“Louis is an ability, not an actual person.” Gaston snapped back, almost scolding the doctor, his eyes still firmly fixed on the road. “Your ability is not you as a person, it is just an extension of yourself.”

“Louis? Is that your ability?” You questioned, stepping into the conversation. The doctor nodded looked back at you from her front seat.

“Yes, my ability is called The Strange Case, call it… giving birth to another personality of mine for lack of better phasing. Letting my alter ego take form via my shadow.” She looked away from you, her eyes back to her notes, rereading them over again. “Do not ask me to use it unless the situation is dire, she tends to be a bit… insane.”

—————————

You three arrived at the government building without a problem. Gaston had parked the car out front, making it not too far of a walk from the building to the car in case anything did go horribly wrong. You three made your way inside where of course with most government meetings you had to fill out a form, and wait… and wait… and wait. Until finally a young man with black hair came over to you all, he looked like somewhat of an assistant but something… some small thing felt off about him, maybe it was his smile? You didn’t know but you weren’t the only one to notice, you glanced over at Gaston and his eyes were fixed on this man with almost of a glare. The man came up to you all and extended his hand to each of you. “I am so sorry for the wait, I’m Mr, Tonan’s assistant and you must be Dr. Stevenson…” he gave the doctor’s hand a firm shake before letting you and his eyes fixed on Gaston. “You’re the famous Gaston Leroux of the Paris Opera, can I just say how big of a fan I am. Your work is something of the angels.” He said shaking Gaston’s hand with an enthusiastic laugh and smile… then he turned his unsettling smile to you and extended his hand to you. “And you are?”

Something about his voice gave you chills as you extended a hand back to him. “(N-Name)”

“Well that’s a very lovely name, Miss (Name).” The assistant shook your hand with a firm shake and that same unsettling smile. After a long moment of silent staring at you with that same uncomfortable expression he turned back to the rest of the group. “Now if you would just follow me, Mr. Tonan is waiting for you in his office.”

You three followed him down the halls of the buildings, both Gaston and Dr, Stevenson picked up on his strange behavior so Gaston stepped in front of you and the doctor stayed at you side, all of their eyes fixed on him. He lead you to a large office where an older man was waiting for you, he was a bit on the heavier side but still seemed kind, genuinely kind, not like his strange assistant. You assumed this man was Mr. Tonan from how he treated Gaston and Dr, Stevenson with a friendly greeting like old friends, but everything they said fell on deaf ears to you because you could feel the assistant’s smile and eyes on the back of your head. It wasn’t until you heard Gaston introducing you to Mr. Tonan that your mind snapped back into reality.

Mr. Tonan had some tea brought up for you all as you talked and over all Mr. Tonan seemed very receptive your case and when you brought up the break in at your apartment he expressed genuine concern. “Honestly I stand with you with how our system is set up. That is why I took this position in office. I have been friends with Miss Jane for years and when she told me about your society a few weeks ago you know what I said, I said, finally someone is taking the action that needs to be done.”

“You don’t know how much that means to us, Mr. Tonan.” The doctor said with an excited smile. “So you’ll help us?”

Mr. Tonan nodded with a wide smile. “I will certainly try. You are good folk and your cause is just.” He paused and frowned, his expression changing from one of hope and excitement to one of worry and dread. “I must warn you that what you want to achieve will be dangerous, people will try to dig up your pasts to exploit you. You’ll need to prepare for what comes next and-“

“Dig our heels into the ground. Trust us, we know.” You cut Mr. Tonan off, finishing his sentence. “Sir, in the last few weeks I have encountered members of the Guild, Port Mafia, and Armed Detective Agency. Two of which threatened me the last of which tried to convince me that this wasn’t a big deal and I shouldn’t worry my pretty head about it and you know what I took it, I took their threats and words and just stayed silent. I don’t want to be silent anymore, because this is my life.”

“I couldn’t agree more. For now we need to build a case.” Mr. Tonan reaches into his desk and pulls out an ordinary cream paper file. “Miss (Name), I’m going to ask you to be a lab rat in this case. Any time something happens to you. You are going to document it and place it in here in either words or photos. Be as descriptive as you can. If we gather enough evidence we could stop this once and for all. I know this is scary and you don’t have to do this if you don’t wish to but-“

“I’m in.”

“Very well, I’ll have my assistant to stay in touch with you then, you can report things to him that you document. If we play our cards right, then their actions will destroy themselves. They’ll eat each other alive.”

—————————

During the rest of your meeting, Mr. Tonan’s assistant slipped out into the hall and walked it a bit, out of ear shot from everyone. He pulled out a phone from his back pocket and dialed up a number, a wicked smile, more sinister than before comes across his face as the person answered. The assistant spoke, completely dropping the fake accent he used, going that that of one more European in origin. “Dostoy, seems there is a bit of trouble brewing from your little мышь. Seems like she’s aligned herself with that French composer, what was it you called him… oh yes, the angel of music.”

There was a chuckle on the other end of the line and then the voice of a Russian man responded. “Oh really? I should have expected something from him after all these years. No one like him simply gives up. Seems like this game is going to get interesting.”

—————————

After the meeting you all made your way back to the car, hearts feeling full and a new found spring in your step. You finally had hope that things would change for the better for once. Gaston himself held his head up high and the Dr. was no longer nervous like she was in the car, looking over her notes overly so. “So Gaston, what’s our next game plan? I over heard you and Miss Jane talking about something in her office last night.” Dr. Stevenson questioned her French friend. Gaston smiled, the sort of smile that was scheming but not in the evil sort of way.

“Easy, we’ll gonna see what we can do about an alliance with the Armed Detective Agency and the Port Mafia, if all of us work together we’ll unstoppable against the Guild. I honestly can’t wait to see the look on…”

Then you saw it, on a roof top nearby. It was a man… holy fuck that was a sniper, aiming right at Gaston. As Gaston spoke you began to run in an attempt to push him out of the way and then…

BANG!

As you pushed him to the ground to felt a burning pain sear through your left leg. You let out a loud scream as you toppled to he ground, Gaston beneath you. Dr. Stevenson was. The second to notice where the sniper was and she pulled you and Gaston up, carrying you to the car and leaving the composer to his own devices. She threw you into the back seat along with herself. In your pain you didn’t notice Gaston quite literally walk through the car like a ghost and into his seat where he materialized fully and stepped on the gas, trying to put as much distance between you all and here. You were laid on the back seat row of the car and Dr. Stevenson reached into her bag and pulled out a first aid kit. She took a cloth and bandages and placed the cloth on top of your bullet wound.

“I need to stop the bleeding, I can get the bullet out at the apartment with my equipment there. Fuck how did this happen.” She said that last bit under her breath as she started to wrap the bandages around your leg, this made you cry out in pain but she squeezed your hand to help you deal with the pain. “Gaston, do you have any clue who did that?”

“The Guild, no doubt in my mind. They were after me, I’m the one who keeps out society’s secrets well hidden. Fitzgerald told Alexandre and Victor that he would exploit us until none of us had a cent left to out names, all of us. With me in the way he can’t find shit out on any of us, he doesn’t know about you in the war, he doesn’t know about me, he doesn’t know about Alexandre’s family, he doesn’t know shit besides me standing in his way.” Gaston made a rather sharp turn as he spoke. “As for the sniper, his name is Mark Twain I believe. I don’t know much about his ability unfortunately, I just remember Miss Jane talking to be about him joining the Guild not to long before she escaped.”

“Noted, for now just drive, I have a new patient it seems…” Dr. Stevenson’s words became hazy as you fell unconscious.

—————————

Meanwhile Alexandre, I for had run into the Guild members, John Steinbeck and H.P. Lovecraft, trying to kidnap two girls, they were able to team up with two members of the armed detective agency, Junichiro and Kunikida, to help the girls get away. While Junichiro and Kunikida kept Steinbeck and Lovecraft busy, Alexandre, Victor, and Miss Jane, helped them run and board a train, fending off vines that came from Steinbeck’s ability. They boarded the train with the girls, Miss Jane helped calm them down with her ability when a little boy ran right into them.

“Oh I’m sorry little one.” Miss Jane said looking over at the boy. They were a strange looking child, wild eyes, two colored hair, and a horrific looking doll. They child looked over to Miss Jane with a curious smile.

“Did you say sorry?” The child asked and Miss Jane nodded. The child looked at her with a smile. “I should apologize, are you hurt.”

Miss Jane and the child whose name was Q, or nickname anyway, got along splendidly. He absolutely adored her accent and her old fashion personality, he said it reminded him of a princess. Alexandre and Victor were talking to the girls, Naomi and Kirako, making sure they were okay and just reviewing over the situation, making sure they had a safe place to go. Apparently they had members of the Armed Detective Agency picking them up at the next stop, which was also the place where the Society had their car that was waiting for them. Soon the train came to a stop and everyone got off the train, Q holding onto Miss Jane’s hand, dragging her along like mother and child. Waiting at the stop was a young man, he had whitish gray hair, with interesting eyes, purple and yellow. He ran up to the two girls wondering if they’re okay. Apparently the two girls were clerks at the Armed Detective Agency.

“Honestly if it wasn’t for Kunikida and Junichiro as well as our new friends we wouldn’t have had escaped.” Naomi said gesturing to Miss Jane, Alexandre, and Victor. “Atsushi, this is Jane, Alexandre, and Victor. They’re visiting from Europe.”

“Thank you so much ma’am, sirs.” Atsushi said, bowing slightly. Alexandre shook his head and waved Atsushi off.

“It’s alright, just doing the right thing. Also don’t call me sir, I’m probably not that much older than you, kid.” Alexandre said, tucking his hands in his pockets. “Just call me Alexandre.”

Q let go of Miss Jane’s hand and walked up to Atsushi, bumping into him. As Atsushi went to go look down at Q, he began to unroll his sleeve, revealing razor blades taped to his arm. Miss Jane screamed at this sight. They all watched Q tear their doll in hair and a look of madness came across Atsushi’s face, blood coming out of his eyes. He ram to strangle Kirako, but Alexandre and Victor began to restrain him, grabbing each of his arm. Miss Jane ran towards Q, touching him on his cheek, at least weakening his hold on Atsushi. All three society members knew at that moment that this child was insane. Atsushi clawed, literary clawed, at Alexandre and Victor, like cat. In all this panic a young man came forward and grabbed the doll with one hand and touched Miss Jane’s shoulder with the other, disabling both Q’s and Miss Jane’s ability, it was Dazai.

Miss Jane collapsed at that time as Q ran off back onto the train that was starting up again, but before she hit the stone, Dazai caught her, holding her up as he glared at the child. “Mr. Dazai’s friends are so weak, they broke so easily. But that’s fine, cause I’ll be saving Mr. Dazai for last.”

The rest of the conversation went in one ear and out the other for the society members as Victor and Alexandre ran to Miss Jane’s side, helping her get back up after the large use of her ability, taking her away from Dazai. Victor gave Dazai a nod as they walked off, but Dazai grabbed Victor by the wrist and pulled him back to whisper. “I know Gaston is planning on making an alliance with us, just remember nothing comes for free, nothing.”

—————————

Everyone finally returned to the headquarters and Victor and Alexandre sat down with Miss Jane to get her something to drink. At the same time you were waking up in Dr. Stevenson’s office, your leg bandaged up, Gaston and Dr. Stevenson by your side. Gaston was the first to notice you were awake, rushing over to you and hugging you, squeezing the life out of you.

“What were you thinking? I could have gotten out of the way, you worried us so much.” You felt something wet on your shoulder and you realized he was crying. “Don’t do that again.”

“Luckily it’s only a wound, nothing broken. The bullet did cut through some nerves that allow movement in your leg so you’re gonna be in that wheelchair for the foreseeable future.” Dr. Stevenson added and sighed when she saw Gaston wasn’t letting go. “Gaston, let (Name) breathe.”

He let go and you saw his face tear stained, you reached a hand up and whipped his face off. “Don’t cry music man.”

Dr. Stevenson helped you into a wheelchair soon after to get you back into your room to rest in a more comfortable space. As she rolled you down the hall you heard the front door of the building open and close, and quite a few footsteps walking in. Dr. Stevenson’s eyes narrowed and she quickly made her way to Jane’s apartment where everyone had gathered. “Miss Jane, did you hear that?”

Miss Jane nodded, this was only odd because everyone who lived here was in one room. Then when she was about to saw something there was a knock at the door. Miss Jane looked at the maid, Joan and gestured for her to open it. So Joan went to the front entry, opened the door and you heard a gasp as someone walked in. Everyone looked at each other with worried eyes. Then… you heard Miss Jane drop her tea cup and it shatter on the floor. You all saw a few people who came here uninvited, but in front of them all was a man, a blond man in his thirties and dressed up to the nines. There was a look of horror on Miss Jane’s face and he walked up towards her, like he lived her. He went up to her side, grabbed her chin and made her look at him.

“Hello Zelda.”

…The Guild had found you all

#yandere bungo stray dogs x reader #yandere bungou stray dogs #yandere bsd #original character x reader #bungou stray dogs oc #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #yandere dazai #yandere chuuya #yandere mark twain #yandere mori ougai #yandere Fukuzawa #Yandere Edgar Allan Poe #Yandere John Steinbeck #yandere fyodor

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scary-lasagna · 2 years

Text

Thankskilling: The Arrival

[Part II]

"Splendor!" [Y/N] smiled in greeting, and received the obligatory hug from their tall friend as Sally crawled into Slender's arms. "How has everything been? I haven't seen you for the past few days."

"Oh, it's been off and on, I suppose." He shrugged with a casual flutter of his eyelashes, "Things have been stressful this time of year," He couldn't help but to glance at Slender as he said that, knowing his sunken cheeks are telling their own details.

"Stressful is an understatement." Slender sighed, "I'm up to my shoulders in paperwork, I can't even cook for the feast tonight because I'm trying to finish everything by tonight's deadline." His tired arms were forced to place Sally down, who drowned out the adult conversation and headed toward the bustling proxies shuffling around the dining room.

"Why is the table being set so early?" She questioned aloud, hoping at least one person would hear her.

When no one else answered, Clock sighed and caved, glancing over toward the tiny brunette ghostly girl, "Well, considering Slender has 8 arms to work with, and we all only have two, we have to work twice as hard and fast to make sure everything's ready for tonight."

"Why?"

"Because we're having Thanksgiving dinner tonight, Sal."

"Why?"

Clock shot a warning glare toward the child, "Because it's tradition."

"Why?"

"Someone better get this kid before I dropkick it."

"Becauuuseee," Toby swooped Sally up into his free hip, the other one carrying a box of delicate plates, "It's just what we do around here, and it's a good excuse to eat all the food you want even if you're allergic!" He giggled, settling on a wink.

"Do NOT eat ANY peanuts, Toby." Masky huffed, and shouldered the kitchen door, to where multiple creeps had a respective spot in the kitchen.

Some were teaming up on a dish, and others put their own individual skills to use. Jane was making her famous southern seasoned mashed potatoes, and Helen was letting Puppeteer help while he made teriyaki noodles. It wasn't an amazingly traditional Thanksgiving bowl, but the proxies had to make sure there was a little something for everyone to enjoy. Toby didn't particularly like turkey, but would eat ham like his life depended on it. And Laughing Jack didn't like either!

After this, Helen would attempt to help Eyeless Jack with the human-flavored plates, if Jack was comfortable enough with it. Ever since the idea crossed his mind, Helen couldn't stop thinking about the endless possibilities of dressing up human organs like dessert.

Yes, human sculptures and bloody paintings are his main mediums, but he would love to explore the opportunities with gore food.

Eyeless Jack was simply spectating from the corner as he properly skinned fat off a small intestine. It's much more time-consuming than one would think. Jack didn't mind just eating everything raw and fresh from the body, but since Seed would be dining at the table, Jack wanted it to feel special for his companion.

Speaking of Seed, the creature of unknown origin, was spending wasted time lazing on the couch. Was he supposed to be outside? Yes.

While everyone else is bustling around, no one was paying attention to the creature drooling all over the leather couch cushions. He was “allowed” to doze off, to have just a few hours to himself.

Nothing would go wrong, right?

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta imagines #creepypasta blog #creepypasta imagine #creepypasta x reader #thankskilling #creepypasta thanksgiving x reader #holiday

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cresent2003 · 7 months

Text

Idea's

Simon Riley x Fem! Reader

Unedited

===============================

Blood and dirt covered Jane's skin as she scratched off the larger bits that had dried.

She didn't know what had happened.

The plan was foolproof but like everything in Price's many plans, something always went wrong and left her questioning if she was still alive at the end of it all.

She sat in an upstairs bedroom in a house that was in the middle of nowhere.

They were back in England but the part of England was unknown.

"Janey" she lifted her head up as Price stood in the doorway.

Her eyes were empty and all she needed was sleep but that was a luxury she couldn't get right now.

"Come on," he said as he lit a cheap cigar while moving to walk out of the doorway.

She followed him.

"We're safe here.

Soap and Kyle checked around and it looks like there's nothing but farm for miles" he said.

She smiled "There's that smile.

I was starting to think I broke you" Price said.

"Not yet," she said.

They walked into what looked like a living room.

Everyone was inside.

Kyle was on the couch loading his pistol, Soap was looking out the window as the sun set and Ghost was in the corner.

"Alright, I fished her out.

Get your asses here so we can plan stations" Price said.

"I thought you said this place was safe," Kyle said.

"We're never fully safe unless we're at base," Price said.

Everyone looked at Price as Jane picked at her bleeding fingers.

"There's one shower.

It will be two at a time.

One will clean up and the other will stand guard.

The rest of us will find whatever food we can find and prepare this room to be where we sleep.

Be on guard as this place isn't a safe house.

Remember that" Price said before looking at Jane who was still preoccupied.

"Jane and Simon you'll be going first.

The bathroom is upstairs on the right" Price said.

"Hmm," she said as she looked at him.

"Go on sweetheart," Price said.

They both left the room.

"How is she a deadly killer?" Kyle asked.

"No one expects a girl like her to break a man like all of us," Price said.

Jane stood in the bathroom as she looked around.

"Hey, you alright?" Simon said as he stood by the door.

"Yeah just trying to snap out of whatever trance im in.

I don't really know if im really alive right now" she said.

He walked over to her before pinching her arm.

She yelped before looking at him.

"Thanks," she said.

"I'll be outside," he said.

"Wait.

You can stay in here.

I would feel a lot more safe if you did" she said.

They looked at each other.

"Alright.

Just don't get any ideas" he said.

"Ideas?

When have I ever had an idea like that Si?" she asked.

He walked out of the room as she smiled.

She got undressed before getting in the shower.

The minute the water turned on relief filled her.

She scratched her skin as a reddish-brown pool of water formed at her feet.

Simon could hear the water running from outside the curtain as he took off his mask to wash the black paint off his face.

He hissed as he took off his gear as dirt got into the large gash on his back from a knife-wielding maniac back at an ambush near Manchester.

He wasn't one to point out his injuries.

Injuries caused distractions and he couldn't afford to not be constantly focused.

Jane washed her long dark brown hair as she heard him hiss and groan.

"Simon?" she asked.

"What?" he asked as he put his hands on the sink bowl as the burning pain spread across his back.

It was worse than he thought.

Jane poked her head out of the shower before freezing as she saw the sore gash on his back.

"I can clean it," she said.

"I'm fine just get back to your shower" he said.

"Simon.

We both know that will get very infected soon.

If you won't let me clean it then...." she said before looking at his back not knowing what else to say.

"Go on," he said.

"Get in here with me.

Only for a few minutes.

I'll clean it and then you can leave the room" she said.

He turned around.

"You truly think that shit's a good idea," he said.

"We've seen each other naked before.

There's nothing we're about this so stop being so stubborn and let me help you" she said.

"Fine but only for two minutes" he said.

She smiled before getting back to her shower.

She placed her head directly under the water causing the world around her to wash away.

She could hear him getting undressed causing her body to heat up.

It wasn't a new experience.

There was no privacy in the military, not when you're on a mission.

She learned that early on and didn't let that mindset slip.

The one time she did she realised that she might have feelings for Simon.

The shower curtain opened as he stepped inside.

She turned her head before blushing as she looked into his eyes.

It was the one moment she realised how starved of male attention she was.

Anything other than teammate and friendly attention.

"Turn around," she said as she took a deep breath.

He did what she said to avoid the tension that eye contact provided them.

She traced the gash before taking the shower head.

She cleaned the gash as he hissed.

"Deep breaths.

This is going to bloody hurt" she said.

"I figured.

Just do it quickly.

If Prices finds me in here I'll be the dead one" he said.

"I'm in here so he won't," she said.

"You would think he has a thing for ya'," he said.

"We don't.

I don't have anything with anyone.

Haven't for a while" she said as she poured a handful of a clear soap.

She washed his back and the gash with it causing him to groan.

"Fucking hell you weren't lying" he said.

"I never do," she said.

"I don't fuckin believe that," he said.

"Well that's your opinion" she said as she began to massage his shoulder releasing all the knots.

"Trying to distract me?" he asked.

"No," she said.

She rubbed his neck before running her hands down his back.

His body was perfect.

He would be able to snap her in half with one move but she could break his neck at the same time which helped her ignore how scary he naturally looked.

"What are you doin?" he asked before turning around.

"Sorry," she said before looking into his eyes.

"Don't apologise.

You just started to go into a little world" he said.

"I'm tired.

I apologise" she said.

"Hey.

Stop fuckin apologising" he said.

She looked into his eyes again before looking at his entire face.

She placed her hand on his face before running her fingers along his jaw trying to memorise what he looked like.

There was always a platonic bond between them.

He would die and kill for her and she just wanted to patch him up or help him relax.

It was strange but until now she didn't realise that.

He grasped her wrist softly as the small touches started to make him uncomfortable.

"I won't hurt you" she said with big eyes that made his walls come crumbling down.

"I know just not used to it," he said.

"You must hate me then as im very touchy after missions" she said softly.

"Nah.

I'll just walk away if you go too far.

Don't worry yourself about it love" he said.

Heat pooled in her abdomen at his words.

He always called her 'Love' when he was comfortable and that alone made her blush and giggle.

"How's your back?" she asked.

"Better.

It'll be sore for a few days nothin' I can't handle" he said.

"Hopefully we can stay here for a day or two before moving.

My entire body is so sore.

I don't think anyone realises that the way I fight takes a toll on me if I do it too much" she said.

"Why did ya sign up for this?" he asked.

"Laswell transferred me," she said.

They stood in silence for a minute or so as the running water became background noise.

She looked into his eyes "What's with that look?" she asked.

"This is jus' my face" he said.

"You're lying," she said.

She could feel the warmth radiating off his body as she bit her bottom lip.

She had lost track of time and everyone must be confused but at this moment all she could care about was this rare moment with Simon.

She looked at his lips "I wonder why no one has come knocking on the door yet?" she asked.

"Soaps got them wrapped up in some card game" Simon said.

"How do you know that?" she asked.

"Once he's had a small breather he tries to calm down everyone.

Bloody twit always wakes me up with all these fuckin games" he said.

"They must not be able to hear us then," she said.

"Nah.

They'll figure it out eventually but not for a bit" he said.

She smiled "You know I've never told you how handsome you are.

I guess I never see you like this but I love it when I do.

I like it when you trust me" she said.

"You haven't given me a reason not to," he said.

"Good," she said before running her thumb on his bottom lip.

"You're getting bloody ideas love" he said.

"Oh well," she said before kissing him as all the tension held back.

He froze as she gave him a quick peck before standing in front of him waiting for his response.

"What was that for?" he asked.

"I got an idea," she said.

"A good one.

Come ere'," he said before kissing her as she allowed him to fully relax.

Suddenly the once hot water ran ice cold causing her to gasp.

"You both done.

There's still three of us covered in shit" Soap's voice came from the outside of the door.

"Give me a minute you fucking twat" Simon said.

"Nice to know she hasn't completely whipped ya" Soap said before walking away.

"Fucking hell that's cold," she said.

He turned off the water before getting out of the shower.

He wrapped a towel around her before getting one for himself.

"Go get dressed in the bedroom on the right.

The woman that lived here left everything then ran" he said.

"What about you?

Your clothes around covered in blood" she asked

"I'll find somethin now go" he said.

She walked to the bedroom before sitting on the bed.

She smiled.

Jane finally had someone who would be on her side until she was dead and maybe even after that.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #mature #maturity #oneshot #maturelanguage #love #mw2 #ghost mw2

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