#may’s actually my worst month. sigh

[nanayuz]

quick may sketch for her month

#may pokemon #may’s actually my worst month. sigh #but may #every time i try drawing digitally i always go back to pencil and paper sigh #anipoke

[forever-rogue]

hello miss bee 🐝

if you're in the mood to write for joel id love to ask one where he and reader just had a baby of their own and ellie starts to feel left out but they both comfort and reassure her that they won't treat her differently since they already unofficially adopted her anyway 🫶🤲

AN | There may be a new baby on the way, but that doesn’t you’ll ever love Ellie any less. She just needs to be reminded of that💕

Pairing | Joel Miller x Pregnant!Reader

Warnings | None

Word Count | 3.3k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I hate this,” you plopped down in the chair on the back patio with a loud huff. You heard a snort of amusement from behind you and turned around to find Joel watching you in amusement. Your lips pulled into a pout and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “this is all your fault.”

“Hmm,” he raised an eyebrow before going back over to the makeshift grill to check on dinner, “pretty sure that’s only half true, sweetheart.”

“Well,” you crossed your arms over your chest and frowned at him, “it’s still partially true. Being pregnant is the worst. Especially with this heat. I should have gotten pregnant in the summer so the worst of it would have been in the winter.”

“Think of it this way,” the way you raised an eyebrow in a way that suggested you were anything but amused, “we’ll have a fresh baby for the holidays.”

“I’m still hoping for a halloween baby,” you grinned, rubbing your belly that seemed to be growing by the day, “how cool would that be?”

“The coolest,” Joel teased as you laughed, an actual laugh that went straight to his heart, “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

“The real question - do you think we’re going to have a boy or girl?” 

“Girl,” he insisted without hesitation, “I’m always going to have my girls. I don’t think that’s changing anytime soon.”

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see,” you took a sip of the fresh lemonade and let out a soft sigh, “but I have a feeling you’re going to be wrong!”

“Oh yeah? You wanna bet on that?” Joel stood there, hands on his hips as he watched you closely. You stuck out your tongue at him, causing both of you to laugh.

What you hadn’t realized was that Ellie was in the kitchen, getting some plates ready to bring out, listening to the two of you. She loved you, she loved you both immensely. She knew that you and you knew that. But she couldn’t help the pang that settled in her stomach and the way her heart seemed to constrict. It was a feeling that hadn’t left her since you’d told her you were pregnant. You and Joel had been so excited to tell her and despite the shock of the news, she’d been excited too. Ellie Williams was finally going to have a baby sister or brother. Her family was growing.

But as the weeks passed by and your pregnancy became more visibly obvious, the worse she started to feel. And it felt like it was eating her alive. It was a mix of emotions that she was struggling to handle and cope with. She was excited for you and Joel and your entire little family but it left her feeling…lost and confused. 

Ellie knew that both of you viewed her as your daughter and she viewed you as parents. She wondered what it would like when the baby came. Your baby - your and Joel’s flesh and blood. Once you had your own baby, would you no longer care about her? Would she be pushed to the wayside as you welcomed and loved your actual child? 

These types of thoughts had been plaguing her for months now. It was stupid, so fuckin’ stupid, she’d be the first to admit, and yet the feelings remained. Realistically, she could have gone to either of you and asked in order to alleviate her fears or get some simple reassurance. But that seemed silly too. What was she supposed to do? Come up to you and ask ‘hey will you still love me once the baby is here?’ That felt ridiculous. 

Instead, Ellie internalized her feelings, deciding to push them away and act like nothing was wrong. You’d noticed that something was off with your girl recently. Things had just seen so crazy lately, with getting ready for the baby and Joel being off for a while with work to do, it hadn’t been easy. But Ellie really had been your rock and you hated the idea that you were neglecting her in any sense.

“Ellie?” the girl almost dropped the bowl of salad she was holding when she heard you call out to her. She swallowed the lump in her throat and blinked back her tears before heading into the backyard. Your entire face lit up when you saw her and she felt bad for a moment for ever having doubted your love and affection for her, “there you are, Ellie Bean! Everything okay?”

“Y-yeah,” she set the plates and bowl onto the table and nodded softly, “just got caught up cutting the…tomatoes.”

“There’s no tomatoes in the salad, baby,” you gave her arm a gentle squeeze, “we gave the last of them to the Meyers the other day. Are you sure you’re alright?”

She looked away and nodded, staring into the distance as she pleaded with her heart and mind to remain calm and collected. Joel clicked his tongue and caught her attention, giving her a questioning look. Sometimes he hated how well he knew her and how he seemed to see right through her.

“C’mere,” he motioned for her to come over and she obliged, walking over slowly with a heavy tread. She stopped in front of him and he put his hands on her shoulders, leaning down slightly so he was closer to eye level with her, “what’s wrong, baby girl?”

“Nothing,” she replied through gritted teeth. Joel knew that something was up but he didn’t want to push her and possibly cause her to pull away from him. He sighed softly before pressing a kiss to her forehead. It had become such a reflexive action that he didn’t even think about doing it any more, “you’re being gross and showing too much emotion.”

“Someone’s gotta do it,” he teased and that caused her to smile slightly at him, “‘cause it sure ain’t going to be you right, is it? You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” she whispered, “not right now.”

“Okay,” he nodded lightly, “I’ll be here and ready to listen whenever you’re ready.”

“I know, old man,” she pushed his arm before turning on her heel and walking back over to you. She sat down next to you, her gaze drifting for a moment to your belly. You reached up and touched her face, gently stroking her cheek, “you’re both such saps.”

“It’s only because we love you,” you beamed at her. She felt her cheeks growing warm and pink as she stared at the bowl of tomato-less salad, “you wanna help me make some dessert while the food’s cooking? I was thinking pudding…ooh or maybe some sort of pie?!”

“Sure,” she perked up at your enthusiasm, unable to deny the appeal of spending time with you and making a dessert, “let’s do it.”

Ellie decided that she’d figure out the rest later. Right now, she was okay and she just wanted the two of you to have some fun. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I’m worried about her,” you closed your book and set on the nightstand before turning to your husband with a sad expression on your face. He followed suit and turned so he was fully looking at you.

“The baby?” 

“I - no. And we don’t know if it’s a girl or boy yet so calm down,” you laughed for a moment before moving to sit crossed-legged - to the best of your ability anyway - and gave him a serious look, “Ellie. She seems so closed off lately and it always seems like she’s upset, but when I try to talk to her she changes the subject or finds an excuse to leave. I feel like my poor baby girl hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Joel took your hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze before you laced your fingers together, “she could never hate you.”

“But something is wrong and I don’t know what it is and I can’t fix it,” a wave of emotion washed over you and tears stung at the back of your eyes. You sniffled, fully aware that you probably seemed ridiculous right now but you didn’t care, “I just want to make it better.”

“Honey,” Joel’s voice was soft as he put his hands on your sides and gently pulled you towards him. You easily gave in, soft and pliable, as he settled you in his lap. You felt pathetic as you looked at him, tears running down your cheeks. He tenderly brushed them away before taking your face in his hands and turning your face up to his, “she doesn’t hate you and she never will. Whatever she’s going through right now, she’ll come around. She’s still guarded and sometimes these things take time. She’ll come around, she always does. We just have to keep on loving her.”

“Promise?” you whispered as he nodded softly. You leaned into his touch as he rubbed your back soothingly, “I don’t know what I’d do if…I don’t know. If she stopped loving us.”

“That ain’t happening,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “I have a feeling I know what’s going on with her.”

“Oh?” you looked at him in surprise and he couldn’t help but grin at the sight of your confused expression. The fact that you were so pouty and pregnant made you even more adorable to him than before. He had to fight back a laugh at your expression, opting instead to kiss you softly, “what do you think it is?”

“The baby,” he answered, putting a hand on your belly and rubbing it gently, “I think she’s worried about the baby.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you think she thinks that we’re just going…to stop loving her?” the waterworks started again and this time you couldn’t hold back the tears, “she thinks we’re going to replace her!”

“Oh honey,” you wrapped your arms around his neck and tried to hug him as best as possible. You huffed as you buried your face into his chest and he softly cooed at you, “I don’t think she thinks we’re trying to replace her. I think she’s worried that we won’t have as much time and love for her."

"That's not true," you hated the fact that that thought even crossed her mind, "that's like…the farthest thing from the truth! She's my baby too. Nothing is ever going to change that."

"I know that," he gently brushed his fingers along your jaw before resting his hand on your cheek, "you know that. I think she just might need a little reassurance."

"Yeah," you sighed softly, "I can do that. I will do that."

"I have no doubt about that either, honey."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Ellie startled when she heard your enthusiastic knocking on her door. She groaned as she looked at the old school alarm on the bedside table and saw that it wasn't even eight o'clock yet. 

"Come in," she rolled onto her side so she was facing the door. You almost threw open the door in your excitement, already fully dressed and ready for the door.

"Hi my love!" Her eyes widened at your cheeriness, "good morning, Ellie Bean."

"It's early," she groaned as you leaned against the doorway, causing you to laugh softly, "why are you so awake?"

"I've been up for a while…couldn't sleep well," you shrugged it off, "but I thought it would be fun if we spent the day together, just the two of us!"

"O-oh," she slowly sat up, heart almost constricting with emotion, "are you sure?"

"Duh," you teased, "its been a while since it's just been the two of us and I figured we could have some fun!"

"Okay," she looked at you, an eyebrow raised in question. You clapped excitedly and she offered you a tentative smile in response, "w-wait, am I in trouble?"

"Of course not," you walked over to her and held out your hand to her. She took yours and slowly slipped out of the bed, "I just want to spend some time with my favorite girl."

"Alright," a little bit of a flush crossed her cheeks as she offered you a smile, "yeah, that could be fun."

"Let's go then slow poke, no time to lose!"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Your day had been filled with doing anything and everything that Ellie wanted - within reason of course. As the day bled into night, the two of you were at the lake, sitting on the dock, feet dangling into the water. 

"Can I ask you something?" You finally couldn't take it anymore and needed to clear all the air. Ellie paused before nodding slowly and turning towards you.

"Sure…"

"I feel like lately…things have been different," you put your arm around her shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze, "and I want to make sure you're alright. You've been off lately, and I want to know if you're okay and if I can do anything to help."

"Oh. Oh," Ellie swallowed thickly; she thought she'd been better at disguising her feelings, "umm…it's…just. I don't know. Things have just felt different since you've been pregnant."

"Yeah?" You asked as she turned to you with a sad little smile and a nod, "oh, Ellie."

"I just…it feels weird that…umm. Like it's you and Joel, you know? And now you're having your own child and it makes me feel like…where's my place?"

"Baby," you tried to keep your own emotions at bay but it was hard when all you wanted to was to wrap her up in a big hug, "your place is with us - it'll always be with us. We're family. Nothing is going to change that."

"But if you love the new baby more than me?" You hated that she even thought anything like that. You wished you could convey just how very much you loved her, "I keep thinking about…what if you don't want me anymore."

"We will never not want you or love you," you took her hand and held it tightly in yours, "that will never change. Nothing could change how we feel about you. You're our girl, Ellie."

"Are you sure? The baby-"

"The baby doesn't change anything," you pulled her into your body as much as you could, "its another person we're bringing into our family that we can love. It doesn't mean any of us is going to get less love. Okay? I swear on my life. And Joel's life. All of it."

"Every time I've gotten close to people they've been taken from me," Ellie sniffled brushing at her eyes with the back of her hand, "my parents, my family, my friends…I almost lost Joel. I don't want to lose you too and the baby. I'm not sure if I'd make it if I did."

"Ellie," you softened at the young girl, "you are so young and you've been through so much. More than anyone ever should. And I know the world is scary and we don't know what the future holds but we can't let that dictate how we feel about the present or how we act. You're not going to lose us or your brother or sister. Never. And maybe me just saying that doesn't make anything better but I'll show you and I'll keep showing you that we mean it. Honestly, I don't think I'd survive without you. You are the world to me, Ellie."

"Being pregnant has made you so sappy," she laughed through her tears, "even more than normal. Its kind of gross."

"It's because I love you so much, kiddo," you grinned at her, brushing away her tears, "but the hormones definitely aren't helping! Luckily it won't be too much longer before the baby is here."

"Are you scared?"

"Terrified," you confessed with a sheepish grin, "but I know I'll be okay. I've got you Joel and you. Everything will be okay."

"Yeah," she nodded, a bit of confidence oozing back into her, "we'll be okay. I'm excited to meet the baby."

"Boy or girl you think?"

"Girl," she seemed so confident that you were almost convinced of that as well, "Joel's meant to be surrounded by girls."

"Funny, that's exactly what he said too," you shook your head in amusement thinking about the two of them. They were too alike for their own good, "I guess we'll just have to wait and see."

"Whatever," she playfully rolled her eyes, "we all know we're right!"

"Mhmm," you slowly stood up and held out your hand to her, "come on my love. Let's go home and annoy Joel."

She took your hand eagerly, "I love you too, just so you know."

"Yeah," you promised her softly, "I know. I love you more, kiddo."

-

Ellie approached you slowly, almost unsure if she should be coming over. You beamed at her, motioning for her to come closer. She stole a quick look at Joel, who offered her a small smile and nod of reassurance.

"Come here, my love," you held out your hand to her and she came over, staring at the bundle in your arms in awe, "I hate to admit it, but Joel was right. You've got yourself a little sister."

"Wow," she reached over and gentle stroked her chubby little cheek, "she's so small. What's her name?"

"Well, we don't have a name picked out yet," you smiled softly, "we were hoping you'd help us by picking her name."

"Me?"

"You! If you'd like to that is," you could see her eyes watering up, and your heart felt so full, "you can take a bit to think about it-"

"Daisy," she stated softly, looking between you and Joel to gauge your reactions, "I like Daisy."

"Me too," you gave her a hand squeeze, "Daisy it is. It's perfect. Do you want to hold her, Ellie?"

"I-I don't know," she swallowed the lump in her throat as the baby cooed softly, "she's so small and I don't wanna…hurt her."

"You won't," you promised, straightening up as she stepped closer, "hold her to your chest and make sure you're supporting her head, okay?"

"Okay," she reached over gingerly, as though the baby was made of glass. She took her from you and did as you said, holding the small baby protectively. Daisy made a few sounds before yawning and snuggling into Ellie. The girl watched her in amazement, "she's so cute and little."

"Just like you," you teased, reaching over and giving her arm a squeeze. You turned to Joel, who was watching the scene unfold with nothing short of heart eyes, "look at that, Joel. Look at our girls. They're the best."

"Yeah," he agreed, pressing a kiss to the side of Ellie's head, "they are. But you know what else?"

"Hmm?"

"I was right - it was a girl," he threw you a cheeky grin as you snorted in amusement, "wouldn't change it for the world."

"Yeah, me neither," Ellie piped up, "I guess we're a pretty cool family. Daisy and me anyways. You guys are alright."

"We love you too," you sighed contentedly, happy to have your little family all together, "both of you. Lots and lots."

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal #tlou

[gglitch1dd]

Y/N experiencing difficult pregnancy with one of her boys.. Izuku is beyond worried and terrified. He has read the risks of pregnancy past the age of thirty and how it takes a toll on women's bodies. The boys find out about it and help her take over all the chores, doing their homework without disturbing mom, making after school snacks and bringing mom whatever she may need. Izuku even takes frequent leaves from his hero duties to care for his pregnant wife

So sorry about my English, it is only my third language

A hard time

Midoriya Izuku x Wifey Reader

Warning: Difficult pregnancy, mention of a previous miscarriage

"Mr Midoriya."

Izuku looked up at the doctor as you lay in the hospital bed, your five-month pregnancy bump just visible from underneath the blanket. This would be your fifth child together and everything was normal. Or Izuku thought everything was normal until Izuku had received a call from his five-year old, saying that "Mommy had fallen down"

When Izuku had raced home, you had fainted and he found signs of blood between your thighs. Izuku feared the worst, thinking you had suffered a miscarriage or your life was in danger. Which is why Izuku was here, still in his hero uniform, at your side.

Izuku stood in front of the doctor. "Yes?" He asked.

"She's alright, Mr Midoriya. She's going to be just fine. With a lot of rest, she'll be just fine." She told Izuku.

Izuku let out a relieved sigh. "The baby?"

"Alive." Izuku closed his eyes in pure relief, knowing that both you and the baby were fine. "This is your wife's fifth pregnancy, am I correct?" She asked as she looked over at your file.

Izuku nodded his head. "Sixth actually." He notified. "We suffered a miscarriage before we had our second son." He moved to look back at you, not wanting to dwell on that pain that was buried by the both of you long ago that was only ever revisited once a year.

The doctor nodded silently. "Well, Mr Midoriya, as much as pregnancies typically get easier the more children one has, sometimes we get cases were high-risk pregnancies do occur. It seems this is one of them." She told him. "Your wife seems to be suffering a from low blood pressure right now and the baby seems to have a rather soft heart beat. I can only give her a bit of supplements to counter the effects. She needs rest and I mean rest. I want her on strict bed rest for the rest of her pregnancy and rich in iron meals. We want to keep her over night for today but then tomorrow, if all is the same, she can go back home."

After that discussion, Izuku sat at your bedside waiting for you to wake up. He had talked to his mother who he had called in a flurry while speeding to the hospital, telling her that you were fine and it was just a scare. He got an update on the boys, getting a bucket load of questions from a twelve year old Toshinori who seemed just about ready to jump in a cab and get to your side himself.

Izuku was touched but he needed all his sprouts in one place. He was pretty sure that he wanted to stay here at your bedside, considering his mother was holding down the fort back home.

Izuku was taken out of his thoughts as you shifted in bed with a low hum. You slowly opened your eyes as you turned to look at him. Izuku sat up as he gave you a sad smile. You reached a hand over to him which he eagerly took. Your husband moved your hand to be against his face, holding you close. "You scared me." He whispered softly.

You gave him a soft smile. "I'm sorry, my love." You told him honestly. "I... I don't know what happened..."

"You fainted." Izuku told you truthfully. "The doctor said that she's worried about the pregnancy. She's classified you as high-risk."

You let out a gentle huff as you moved to look away from him for a moment. You let out a gentle scoff. "Well, we expected this sooner or later." You spoke softly. "I'm not as young as I once was, Izu."

He looked at you without a smile on his face, worry in his face and in his frown. He let out a deep sigh as he shook his head. "I should have listened to Tenya. What were we thinking, getting you pregnant again." He put a hand to his face, pushing a hand through his green hair.

"Izuku, please." Your eyes were closed almost in pain at what he was saying. Your voice was weak but you were firm. "Please don't say that. Don't regret any child we have ever conceived, even this one." You put your hand over your stomach gently. I love all of our little sprouts, even the ones that haven't left my womb yet."

"Y/N, you're at risk." He reminded you with an adament expression. "Strict bedrest until delivery and even then its probably going to be a c-section done this time."

Your eyebrows furrowed. You had given birth to every single of your sprouts naturally, the labour time being cut in half with each child. From fourteen hours, to seven, to three, to one hour. You had always wanted control over your body especially in something as vulnerable as labour.

You looked away from your husband for a moment. "Izuku..."

"Hm."

"I want you to promise me..." You turned to look at him dead in the eye. "If something ever were to go wrong, you would save the baby even if it compromises me."

Your husband was frozen as he stared at you unblinkingly. He slowly sat up straight as he looked at you, green eyes going dark at your request. His hold on your hand tightened. "Don't you ever ask that of me again." He whispered, his voice harsh.

"Izuku-"

"No." He denied it as he stood up. "You are my wife! My wife! I won't lose you over this baby."

"Izuku, I love every single one of our sprouts even the one that was lost." You expressed with tears in your eyes. "It is not this child's fault that I'm not healthy enough this time around to carry it."

"It is also not your fault too!" He rebutted with a painful expression. He shook his head. "You are the only thing that matters to me and the boys. I can't live without you, let alone raise the boys without you. If you die, I'm following you."

You sat up at such a statement. "Izuku! We have four boys!" You reminded him.

"So then live, goddamn it Y/N!" He shouted at you, tears in his eyes, his hands shaking. That's when you saw the pure terror in his eyes, the fear and the worry that he would lose you being stronger than anything else. He dropped his head as he tried his best not to break down. "I love our boys..." he whispered. "I love our family, I love you as my wife, as the mother of my children. I love you as you are and I sure as hell love it when youre pregnant, but sweetheart..." He looked at you genuinely on the brink of losing himself in fear. "I can not lose you over this baby. I can't."

You fought your own tears, touched at his statement. You closed your eyes but nodded your head. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

From the moment you got back home, Izuku gave you a warm bubble bath and you were put straight in bed. Your sprouts crowded you with so much love, showing you what you had missed while you were in hospital.

However, you noticed that Inko never left. Izuku asked his mother if she could move in for the remainder of your pregnancy, which she gladly did. She helped with the boys, making sure that homework was done and the chores you needed done were finished.

Izuku didn't leave it all to his mother though. He had taken a week off of work initially and you noticed that his work hours had significantly decreased. When he did paperwork, he worked from home. He did everything from home unless it was patrol or an emergancy. Otherwise he was right at your side, moving a desk into your bedroom to make sure he was at your disposal.

He was determined to make sure this pregnancy would be easy for you.

-Glitch1d

#dilf midoriya #dilf izuku midoriya #dilf izuku x reader #midoriya izuku angst #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya #izuku x reader #izuku x reader angst

[allfearstofallto]

Dandelion Wine

Yandere! Scaramouche x Fem! Reader x Yandere(?) Childe

Forced Marriage AU

Word Count: 4.1k

Synopsis: No crush is simply harmless when married to Scaramouche, but what he doesn't know won't hurt him. And what he doesn't see won't affect him, so what's the harm in putting on a little show?

TW: Yandere, obsessive themes, forced marriage, mentions of abuse/violence/punishment, reader mentions dissociating during sex, dub-con, unprotected sex, finishing inside, voyeurism, infidelity, masturbation (m. & f.)

Scaramouche believed that dinner should be eaten in silence with only the sound of the silverware and plates clattering. Hence why he rarely spoke at the table. He also believed that the same morals he applied to himself, were for you as well. Your sweet, plump lips that he kissed and sucked constantly, were to be shut and devoid of noises, only eating during meal times. The food that was prepared was meant to be savored, every bite of it tasted and appreciated. Because of that, dinners felt long, quiet, and worst of all, extremely tense.

The only times things were different, was when Childe came to visit. Number eleven as your husband called him, and Ajax as the orange haired man insisted he wanted you to refer to him as. His cheeky smile and big, blue eyes practically lit up the room, he was practically the epitome of visual charisma. And there was his incessant chatter, Scaramouche would say, his non stop talking about something or other. You never had the heart to tell the man you married that Childe actually talked a normal amount and that he was abnormally quiet.

“Have you ever seen a piece of mora straight from Liyue,” he asked rather loudly while holding up the coin, “Shiniest you'll ever see one. Man, those Liyue natives have no idea how lucky they are!”

You smiled alongside the man, also finding the topic interesting. The coin was indeed shiny, the only impurities on it being the fingerprints from Childe's hands. Other than that, it glimmered, making you realize how old and dirty the mora you must've had before was. Scaramouche wasn't impressed at all. He wasn't even paying attention. Quietly sipping his miso soup at the head of the table, his eyes only focused on his meal.

“Want it?” Childe asked you and you tried not to perk up too much, but your excitement was palpable. Seldom did Scaramouche entertain you with conversation or fun gifts. The only thing he'd bring you back from his travels was a single flower and maybe a regional tea to try together, but nothing you typically enjoyed.

“May I take it, my lord?” Pleading eyes looked at your husband who seemed more irritated than usual.

He let out a sigh, dropping his chopsticks in frustration, “Will it make the both of you shut up?”

Harsh words were nothing new to you, but you had to admit that those eyes of his made you freeze up like stone. No matter how many days you spent married to him, you never grew less afraid of your husband. And you definitely never found yourself coming to love him.

“Yes, my lord,”

He nodded to Childe and the coin was dropped into your hand. You held it as if it were fragile, not wanting to stain the shiny metal anymore than it already was. Your lips formed into a weak smile that you gave to Childe, then another one to Scaramouche who merely nodded at your display of joy, seemingly disinterested.

His chopsticks were picked up, a sign that he wished for dinner to continue on. You picked up yours as well. Your months of living with your spouse meant you had plenty of time to practice. Little leeway was given to you when it came to what you ate with, and despite the fact that you were originally from Mondstadt, you were given chopsticks with every meal. Time and practice made you grow accustomed to them, that and the fact that Scaramouche wouldn't allow you to eat with anything else. Learn to eat with them or starve, he told you. And you did grow terribly hungry.

Childe was more of a special case. He apparently lacked dexterity in hands. You saw it in the way he struggled to use the bow he was hell bent on learning and in the way he struggled to use chopsticks. Throughout the course of the meal, he'd already dropped three pairs, fumbling them dramatically like a character in a comedy play. Each time he'd lose a pair to gravity, leaving the wooden sticks on the floor, he'd look at his barely touched meal. The tragic, almost hopeless look on his face would elicit a laugh from you, followed by Scaramouche shooting you a very knowing glare. He'd sent you to your room without dinner many times before and for much less. Those glares were a good warning to shut up.

“Man! I can't seem to figure out how you eat with these things,” the orange haired male was holding one stick in either hand, instead using them to stab through the food and bring it to his lips. You held back your laughter again, instead forcing yourself to swallow more of your meal.

You had a crush on Childe. Maybe it was because of how kind he actually was or maybe it was because he was the only man you'd seen outside of your lawful husband in a year, but you did like him. He was funny, strong, and most importantly very attractive. Blue eyes and orange hair, a smile that could make a girl swoon with perfectly straight, white teeth. His voice was sultry, smooth like fine dark liquor, but he also knew when to be funny. His sense of humor was more comical to you than Scaramouche's dry humor or snide remarks. You liked Childe. Way more than you wanted to admit.

After dinner was a free time for you. From the time the plates were clean, until it was time for you to go to bed, you were allowed to wander the manor and do what you want. During this period, Scaramouche would be off doing what he pleased. Typically leaving the house to enjoy his night walks, where he'd be gone for hours. It was truly your only time of peace in hell he called home. It was also the only time you could talk to Childe when he came to visit. The two of you would spend the hours just telling each other whatever, it was mostly just you listening to him tell of his travels across all seven nations as you longed for the perceived freedom he had.

Much to your dismay he was nowhere to be found after dinner. You felt stupid searching the house looking for him. The interest towards him was likely one sided and on the slim chance it wasn't, you knew that nothing would happen between the two of you. Yet you looked for him. He was still good for conversation.

Find him you did, at the end of the second floor hallway, but not in the way you thought you would. Steam clouded around the door as he exited the bathroom, a towel was wrapped around his hips, orange pubic hair peeking out from it. His bare chest was covered in scarring, some old and healed, some visibly fresh. His skin was still moist with bathwater, his hair clinging to his face and dripping more down on him. He looked like a piece of art, a statue standing at the end of the hall, toweling his hair with his eyes closed. But then they opened.

You tried to turn on your heels and walk away before he spotted you gawking at him, but quick reflexes were expected of a harbinger. He saw you before you could even manage to take one step back.

“Oi! I was looking for you!” He called, stopping you in your tracks. You did everything in your power to avoid looking at him. That toned, firm body of his was practically begging you to gaze upon it.

“Please find me again when you're more decent, Lord Childe,”

He immediately recognized the forced stiffness of your words and scoffed, a look of disbelief forming on his features, “Since when do you refer to me as Lord, huh?” he was still smiling. Despite his undress, he wasn't the least bit shy.

Your mind shifted to your husband. Unwilling of a bride as you might have been, he made sure you were fully committed to him. He once commented on how much you smiled at his fellow harbinger and your blood went cold. Of course he noticed. Scaramouche was nonchalant, quietly observing everything around him, but he wasn't stupid. You know better than to think your little crush was well hidden, he was just giving you a warning in advance.

“I think we should start being more professional around each other,” you strained the words out, watching his face fall from his normal smile. It felt painful saying these things to him, but it was better for your safety and his.

“So we're not having our talks anymore?” He whined cutely, even pouting his lips a little, “I was looking forward to telling you about my stay in Mondstadt,” it was as if he knew exactly how to hold your attention. Lingering on every single syllable to make sure you knew he was speaking of your home, convincing your already weak will to falter, “and the wine I brought with me.” If he had you on his hook by mentioning Mondstadt, then the notion that he'd brought wine with you was all he needed to reel you in.

Hailing from the city of freedom, you were no stranger to a good drink. You remembered your first glass better than you remembered most things in your first kiss. Your first drink was like a rite of passage for Mondstadt and typically, the first liquor you tasted, became your vice. You were no different than your mother or your grandmother, the drink handed down from generation to generation, and your fondness was felt for dandelion wine. A sweet delicacy only found in the city of freedom, an unassuming drink that'd knock you flat on your ass if you didn't take it seriously enough.

But Scaramouche wasn't a fan of sweet things. He wasn't a fan of much, seeing as very little could even get a smile from him, but he had a special hatred in his heart for anything sugary. His taste leaned more towards the bitter, which was like hell for you.

Sake was never your drink of choice. There was plenty of it in Mondstadt, if there was one thing that your city could do right, it was import drinks from all over Teyvat. But just because it was there, didn't mean you ever drank it. Sake was a drink that tasted wrong to you. The harsh, bitter flavor left a terrible feeling inside your mouth that wouldn't leave no matter how much you tried. So of course, it was the favorite of Scaramouche. The disgusting taste matched his disgusting personality. And when you were permitted to drink, which was rare, you were given sake.

“Dandelion?” You questioned hopefully.

“Dandelion,” he affirmed. He was still using his hands to hold his towels, instead using his head to gesture to his room door, telling you to follow him inside. And you did.

You were tense as you sat down on his bed. Tense when you were handed a cup and told to hold it while you waited for him. Tense as he stepped into his closet to dress himself, still coming out in only pants, but no shirt, telling you that his hair was still wet to wear one. But all that tension melted away when he pulled that familiar green bottle from his bag, pouring you a glass of that rich, yellow wine.

The first sip took you back to your family's home. To a festival in Mondstadt, which was just one of the city's many excuses to drink more. The second took you back to a bar you favored, drinking competitions were held through the night, you always won. There was a part of you that just wanted to down the whole glass, drink it all as you'd done before and request another glass before that sweet taste ever left your tongue. But you saw that he'd only brought one bottle, you had to savor this glass.

“It's yours, if you want it,” Childe spoke softly while holding the wine up, he hadn't even poured himself a singular glass of it, “You just have to do one thing for me.”

Big, doe eyes looked up at him as you practically pleaded with him, “What?”

“Tell me how you really feel about me,”

He could've asked you to do a handstand on the roof of the house during a thunderstorm and that would've been much easier. For so long, your feelings for Childe were just thoughts. You could push them to the back of your mind and pretend they didn't exist. If they weren't real, your husband wouldn't hurt you. He wouldn't punish you. And knowing Scara's jealousy, if he knew you had feelings for another and not him, no one would be safe.

“I won't tell,” he spoke again, a gentle hand coming down and stroking his cheek. His fingers were still warm from his bath, still slightly damp to the touch, the way they cling to your face was assuring.

“I'm married,” you said, “Not just to anyone, but your superior. He's nobody that we should be toying with like this.”

“Who says I'm ‘toying’ with anyone? I wouldn't be asking if I didn't have feelings for you as well,”

Your quick beating heart stilled in your chest for a moment, you lingered on every word. Did you make it up? Did he really say what you thought he did? Silence fell over the room as you contemplated what he said. If he liked you as well, he never showed it. Yet, he'd have no way to. Scaramouche seemed to be around every corner.

“I…like you,” saying the words solidified it. His hair, his smile, his voice, even the way he smelled, you liked it all.

You liked him so much you let him place the bottle of wine in your hands. You let him lean over and place a hand on your shoulder, so close to your face his still dripping hair was wetting your forehead. You let his nose brush against yours, you let him sigh against your lips, you let him close the distance between the two of you and sink into a kiss.

Your mind was a blank, empty room as you kissed Childe. You really kissed him. Kisses with Scaramouche felt like he was trying to swallow you whole, trying to own you, not cherish you. But Childe's admittedly cold, chapped lips were caressing yours. His hand that managed to slither around your waist, holding you like he didn't want to let you go, his other hand squeezing your chest. You wondered if he could feel your heart beating. If he could, you wanted his to be beating the same way.

A bell made you break away from the kiss with a gasp like you were about to be killed. Because you were. That wasn't just any bell. It was the chime of the bell above the main door. The one that signified that it was opening. The one that meant Scaramouche was home.

Biting back the urge to throw up, you tossed the wine on his bed and raced from the room. You didn't want to look back at Childe once. Not after the mistake you'd made with him. Lust was clouding your mind, it had to be keeping you from thinking properly. That was the only excuse you could make while you cursed yourself mentally, simultaneously begging that he wasn't aware of what you'd done.

At the foot of the stairs, his large hat still on his head and a grimace on his face, was Scaramouche. His indigo eyes looked you up and down, noticing the way you trembled and panted like you’d run a marathon.

“Where were you?” He asked, tossing his hat to the side. It fell to the floor with a clatter and was easily ignored by him, “Have you forgotten your duties? You know when I'm supposed to be home.”

“I apologize, my lord!” You tried to stop your voice from shaking.

“Well?”

You looked at him dumbfounded as he walked past you up the stairs.

“Aren't you going to tell me why you were late and huffing like a fool at that?”

“I fell asleep, my lord. And once I noticed I was behind, I raced to try to meet you at the door, but it appears I was too late,”

A mere hum from him was your response. Which was good enough, it meant he had nothing harsh to say. As the two of you entered the privacy of your room together, you felt him hug you from behind. Little did he touch you meaninglessly, which meant he wanted to go farther, his soft lips kissing the back of your neck told you enough.

“I'm only so hard on you because I care about you,” he whispered into your ear. Him being sweet you felt worse knowing what you did with Childe just a few short moments earlier.

But still, you ended up lying back on the bed, naked and nestled in the mountain of pillows. Scaramouche thrusting into your hole above you, eyes clenched shut in pleasure. He was fucking you into a mating press, your knees against your chest, causing you to only take shallow breaths. It was a personal favorite of his since it meant he could sink every inch of his cock into you, while still watching your face.

You kept silent as he fucked you, only letting out a few gasps or whines as he hit particularly sensitive spots inside you or thrusted too deep. You didn't enjoy sex with him, it was always something you didn't want, and he wasn't going to make you pretend. Scaramouche was going to do it with you regardless, it was about his own pleasure.

During the act you'd normally be lost in your own world, trying to pay attention to anything, but the way he was rutting his hips into you, it made the time go by quicker. The closet, the clock on the way, the way the bed squeaked, the crack in the door. The crack in the door where Childe stood, watching in the darkness of the hallway.

It took you a moment to realize what you were seeing and you had to convince yourself still that you weren't imagining it. Orange hair, deep, blue eyes, shirtless and strangely with a tent growing in his pants. Childe stood in the doorway watching, out of view of Scaramouche who either has his eyes closed or stayed focusing on your face.

You went to cover yourself, but realized that that would draw your husband's attention to the other man. You couldn't say anything, not without fear of Childe getting hurt in the process. You felt scared, neverous, a little violated, but when you saw him slide a large hand down and palm his growing length through the fabric of his pants, you began to feel almost aroused.

Sick. Sick in the head, you called yourself mentally as your eyes stayed focused on the man watching from the hallway. But you still placed your hands on your breasts, tweaking your nipples and mewling out softly. You didn't know what came over you to make you do such a thing, but knowing that Childe could see you made you want to do more than just lie there. Scaramouche was immediately surprised by you making any noise of pleasure at all and quickened his already brutal pace. But it felt good for once. It felt nice. You could feel yourself growing wetter, your cunt finally sucking him in and welcoming him.

“You're rather receptive tonight,” he grunted out with a smirk and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes at his confidence.

“I…I suppose it feels better than usual, my lord,” you locked eyes with him, until he clenched his shut from the pleasure once more. Then you looked back at Childe. He'd long since freed his cock from his pants, stroking his long thick length. It was big. That was all you could think as you watched him, how you wished that it was his big cock inside of you, but you could pretend. Pretend that it was him on top of you instead of your husband.

Mewling and moaning louder than you ever had before, making noises you didn't even know you could, your legs were pressed harder against your chest, opening yourself up for him to go even deeper. You were dripping at this point, your wetness sliding down to your ass. But Childe was dripping as well. His cock was leaking precum, coating his hand in a lube that he was using to stroke himself at the same pace that Scara was going inside you.

“Ah! Yes….yes! Fuck me harder!” You'd never begged for more like this before, but who was he to question it, he'd never know that your cries were for another. He was enjoying how wet you felt around him, how you were moving your hips to match his pace inside you. He merely panted and did as he was told, his cock thrusting into you in deep, long, hard, strokes, each one having you see stars.

“I'm finishing inside, my love,” he cooed, pressing a kiss against your lips. You nodded, locking your legs around his hips. A move you'd never done in all the times he'd slept with you and something that made him gasp out in pleasure.

It only took a few more thrusts before he held his cock balls deep inside you, you could feel the length twitching as he filled you with seed. Each shot of his hot ejaculate hitting your walls and making your whimper. Light kisses were pressed against your forehead as the two of you were locked together. His cum and your honeyed wetness dripping from your hole.

When he pulled out, you kept your legs up a little longer, making sure Ajax saw every drop of his cum dripping from you. Your still needy twitching cunt, filled with a load, your delicate fingers rubbing your clit in slow circles while he watched. Your soft gasps and pants, trying not to draw Scara's attention while he was cleaning himself up in the connected bathroom. Both of you, putting on a show for each other. Him stroking his length from the base to the tip slowly, extenuating every inch and you dipping your fingers into your filled hole.

He continued jerking his cock while he watched you, nothing was said or spoken between you two, but your eyes conversated enough. This was pure desire. It was need. And when you came, it was for him. Your hips stuttered and bucked off the bed, toes curling almost painfully.

Childe came with you. Watching you finish while looking at him was more than enough. His hand was pressed against the door, scratching at the wood, begging to be let in so he could finish inside you as well, like he knew you wanted him to. But he didn't. His cock sprayed rope after rope of cum onto the floor of the hallway in front of him. His toned chest heaving as he watched himself make this mess.

You longed to lick it up, not just the cum, but his still aching cock. You wanted to clean it with your mouth, to suck it the way your husband made you. You knew he wanted more. But Scaramouche was already out of the bathroom, a towel in hand. He began cleaning you up between your legs, eyes seeming a little softer than normal while he did. A look that wasn't normal for him.

“You did well tonight,” he praised you. Fond words you'd never heard from him before, but likely because he had no idea why you were putting on such a show.

“Thank you, my lord,” you replied sheepishly, looking back up to the crack in the doorway, Childe was gone. It was better this way though. Better that he leave now than accidentally get the attention of your husband.

“I'll think of a reward for you tomorrow, but rest for now,” the candles were blown out and he laid next to you. A protective arm was wrapped around your waist as you lay on your back, trying to regulate your heartbeat.

Realization hit you like a truck, forming a sickening pit in your stomach. It was only now that you'd realized what you'd done and fear and worry were taking over. If Scara were to find out, he'd kill you. He'd do worse than kill you you supposed, ending your life would be much too easy

And you could only imagine what'd happen to Childe next.

You lay on your back in that inky black, pitch darkness, eyes trying to adjust to the light. You were feeling regretful, but you'd also never felt such a thrill in your entire life. Not since you got married.

#genshin #yandere genshin #genshin x reader #yandere x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere x you #genshin impact #yandere childe x reader #yandere childe #yandere scaramouche x reader #yandere scaramouche #yandere smut #yandere imagines #yandere #tw smut #smut #mdni

[thestoryofusstan]

Sweet Creature

harry styles masterlist

pairing: kinda dark!harry styles x reader

summary: harry’s mother finds a girl on the side of the street one day while harry’s away. he hears about her for months, until he finally decides to see for himself. expecting her to be an undercover rat, he is surprised to find a girl more similar to a deer in headlights.

warning: kinda dark harry kinda alludes to him doing illegal, mafia type stuff but it isn’t specified. third person writing instead of second, READER DOESN’T USE HER REAL NAME!!! she will eventually just not yet.

—

harry had been hearing about some girl non-stop. by who, you may ask?

his mother.

his sweet, kind mother somehow found a girl who was living on the streets, took her in (gave her his room!), and is obsessed with her.

“oh, harry, she’s just the sweetest! gemma says she’s like a kicked puppy, but she’s just so sweet. this morning, i woke up, and she’d cleaned the whole house! and i asked her why, because i obviously didn’t tell her to, and she said she figured she should. you’d love her. proper sweetheart.”

and honestly, it was sweet. he probably would like her if he wasn’t the way he is. because the way he is, he thinks it’s a trap. he thinks she was never really living on the streets, and it’s a ploy. someone found his family and is trying to ruin it.

but, of course, he’d never let his mother know of the way he actually is and thinks, or what he does for a living.

“she sounds lovely, mum. what did you say her name was?”

“she says it’s belle. she’s always singing some french song. i think she lived in france before she got here.. i’m not sure. she isn’t very talkative.”

“she got an accent?”

“a little bit of everything, hazza. when will you come visit? i think you have to be the one to tell her that your room is hers now. she keeps saying ‘harry’s room’ and ‘your son’s room’. i feel horrible!”

“she’s probably just weary mum. if she was on the streets before, she probably just doesn’t want to jinx it.”

“you’re right.. gosh, she won’t even let gemma and i buy her things. she just borrows gemma’s clothes and apologizes a bunch for it. i’m not sure what to do.”

“i’ll come visit soon.”

—

and he did. a surprise visit in the middle of the night, because he was convinced he’s find this belle girl doing shady things .

except when he snuck in the front door, the house was quiet.

alright, he supposes, she’s stealthy.

so he goes upstairs and quietly opens his bedroom door.

and that’s when it’s a little louder. a girl is twisted and turning and mumbling in her sleep on his bed.

all she is saying, from what he can hear, is no. no, no, no, no, no. please, no.

and he feels a little bad, so he walks over to tap her. when that doesn’t work, he shakes her.

her eyes snap open and she has probably the worst reaction possible in this situation.

she fucking screams. like a goddamn banshee.

and sure, it lasts for maybe five seconds, probably four, but she definitely woke his mother up. and it’s so loud, he backs up to the doorway.

gemma was probably still passed out. she would sleep through the world ending.

“hey! it’s just me, calm down!”

she squinted at him through the darkness before yanking the chain on the lamp, turning it on.

he could hear her practically hyperventilating from the doorway.

she let out a sigh of relief when she recognized him from the photos in the living room.

“you really are jumpy, huh?”

“i woke up to a random man hovering over me,” she deadpans.

he almost laughs.

“it’s my room.”

and it’s like a fucking switch. her breaths are staggered and labored, but she still rushes out a whole ass monologue. kicked puppy, indeed.

“oh, my god. i am so sorry. i forgot. i can— i can take the couch— you probably want to sleep in your bed. i’m sorry, anne didn’t say you were coming by or else i would’ve cleaned up—“

the room is spotless, probably cleaner than when he stays in it, but harry doesn’t say that.

“i’ll just.. grab my blanket and stuff and go to the couch. i’m so sorry, i didn’t know—“

“relax,” he finally says. “i knew you’d be in here. i was just.. grabbing a pillow. didn’t realize mum was serious about you being jumpy.”

“oh.. uh.. are you sure? i can take the couch—“

“belle— belle, right?” she nods. “go back to bed. i have slept on plenty of couches. i will survive.”

“i feel bad.”

“well, don’t.”

he should feel bad. she is very clearly not dangerous unless she is a phenomenal actress.

“you’re not mad, are you? because i can sleep on the couch—“

“jesus, are y’gonna cry?”

“i can’t help it! i’m sorry!—“

“what on earth is going on— harry! what did you do!” anne asked as she rushed through the doorway, moving to sit next to belle.

“i didn’t do anything!” he defends.

“he didn’t do anything, anne,” she repeats. “just.. frightened me, is all.”

anne gives her a look before pulling her into a hug, and she just flips another switch and instead of watering eyes, she sobs.

who the hell is her acting coach? maybe he could take a few lessons.

“h, go get her a cuppa.. and there’s those baby yogurt melts in the cupboard.”

he doesn’t comment on the fact that belle is at the very least 19, and probably shouldn’t be eating baby food.

—

the next morning, belle made her way downstairs quietly. she was surprised to see harry making a cup of tea this early, but she didn’t say anything, not wanting to disturb his peace.

she adjusted her earbuds in her ear (anne offered to buy her better ones, airpods or something, but she was fine with her earbuds, even if the wire was a pain in the ass), so they didn’t fall out as she walked.

once she made it into the kitchen, she walked into the pantry, grabbing some random granola bar.

when she turned, she jumped. harry was right behind her. well, in front of her now.

“sorry,” she mumbled, moving out of his way.

he muttered something she didn’t understand.

“um.. sorry about.. last night. i’m kind of jumpy.”

“i noticed.”

he was very short. he didn’t seem to like her much.

“you can.. uh.. take your.. room back.. if you want.”

“it’s yours. i’m fine.”

“are you—“

“i’m sure.”

rude. why was he so rude? what had she done to him? well, besides scream at him, but in her defense, he was just hovering over her! that’s weird!

—

harry still didn’t trust her after a week of being there. she kept to herself for the most part, although he was pretty sure he heard her and gemma giggling in the middle of the night.

he just couldn’t figure out who sent her. why she was here.

his mother explained her freakout when he showed up eventually.

“you gotta be careful with her, h. she’s like.. a bunny, in a way. if you aren’t careful in how you approach her and speak to her, she bolts. first day she was here, i asked her what happened, because she had this horrible cut on her cheek. locked herself in your room for a week. i think whatever put her on the streets is a sensitive topic, and was difficult for her.”

“i jus’ dunno if i trust her, mum.”

“well, i do. she’s sweet, she just needs to warm up to you. she warmed up to me and gemma after about a week or two.. and she’s been more jumpy when gem brings michael around. so.. she might just need a minute.”

“the whole thing just seems.. shady.”

“she’ll tell us when she’s ready. and until then, you’ll make her feel welcomed. speaking of, i’m gonna go wash her clothes. poor girl won’t let us buy her anything. she just has these same clothes she had and a few things gemma convinced her to use.”

—

a/n: little thing i wrote on a plane, part 2 soon-ish maybe

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #harry styles au #harry styles angst #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry imagine #harry oneshot #harry fic #harry #styles #harry and belle #sweet creature series

[exhaslo]

I love your stories it feels like I'm actually in it, I mostly like Mafia Miguel x shy reader.... But anyway if you seen Jennifer's body i can see Miguel being Jennifer and the reader being his friend. If you're taking requests may I have Jennifer's body au with Miguel O'Hara x reader? Thank you. 🥰😍 The ending ended up being together can add smut as well to it?

I actually never seen that movie because I am a wimp when it comes to anything horror, except animal horror. Place Jaws in front of me anyway and I'm down. But, I read a quick summary of the movie and I will make some small changes, you know, to sastify our needs haha.

Also, so sorry this was late. I'm still catching up to last month's requests!!

Warning: MINORS DNI, smut, p in v, murder, blood, possession, shower sex, oral (f recieving)

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

You knew something was wrong.

You knew that something had changed.

But, what were you supposed to do? Miguel was your best friend and he meant everything. He was your world. The two of you had been together since you were young, to leave him as he was now, would be the worst thing ever.

Rewind a few weeks ago. You and Miguel were just chilling after work at a local bar. Your cheeks were flushed as Miguel kept buying the two of you drinks. It was frustrating how much you loved your best friend. He was just so perfect, both at work and outside.

Hearing a local band start to play, you leaned against Miguel, complaining to him about work. The night was pretty vague after that, but you did recall a fire and Miguel bringing you home. After that he disappeared for the night.

When you awoke the next day, you found Miguel passed out on the couch with what looked like blood on his clothes. You thought nothing of it since Miguel would never do something drastic or crazy like murdering someone. So, you assumed it was ketchup and proceeded to help Miguel out of his clothes.

"What would I do without you?" Miguel mumbled under his breathe as you took his shirt off.

"I don't know, stay in gross clothes?" You said with a chuckle and fixed his hair, "Go wash up. The girls at work will go crazy over this bed hair of yours."

Miguel grunted and playfully used you to stand. You laughed and whined towards him, finishing up for work. The two of you shared a place only to help you with you rent. Miguel was perfectly fine with his own place, he was just helping you.

You first noticed something was off when you arrived at work that same day. Miguel was normal with you, but he had started to get flirty with some of your female coworkers. Miguel never payed any mind to any of them, so it kind of hurt to watch.

As the days went by, you couldn't help but notice some of your coworkers going missing. You tried to ask Miguel about it, but he just shrugged and reassured you that it was probably nothing. Of course, you wanted to believe him...but each of those girls who went missing were ones that Miguel flirted with.

"Miguel?" You called out, entering his lab. Miguel glanced towards you, his smile widening,

"(Y/N), climbed out of the library to see me?" He teased. You plopped yourself over Miguel, sighing heavily,

"Lemme vent for two minutes!" You whined, throwing your arms over his shoulders, "That jerk over in IT had the gal to ask me out on a date, Miggy! After he insulted my 'tiny' brain last week!" You huffed. Miguel felt his eye twitch as he pulled you onto his lap,

"Did you tell him no?" He asked, his tone getting a little harsher. You leaned against Miguel, pouting,

"Of course I said no..." You whimpered and crossed your arms, "He called me a dumb bitch after that...That all I do is..."

"Is what?" Miguel fixed you on his lap, wanting to hear the rest.

"Is...be your fuck toy..." You mumbled lowly.

Miguel felt his lips twitch into a smirk before pulling you into a hug. His warm embrace relaxing you while his mind started to race. Tonight was going to have a bitter taste compared to the rest. Once you were calmed down, Miguel stroked your cheeks,

"Don't pay any mind to him. Go home and order whatever you want with my card. I'll be there late."

"Miggy, you don't-"

"I want too," Miguel rested his forehead against yours, "We're best friends. Let me take care of you," He whispered.

--------

You should have known something was wrong. Miguel always had his barriers and lines, but he was willingly crossing all of them. It felt like you were getting closer to Miguel in a different light, and you weren't sure how to feel about it.

Waiting for Miguel to return home, you started to put away some of the food and clean. He did say that he was going to be late, but it was reaching midnight. It was nerve racking having to wait for him to return home.

"Ugh,"

You gasped upon hearing the door. Rushing over, you saw Miguel leaning over the counter, coughing into the sink. Grabbing a bottle of water, you hurried to Miguel's side and gasped at the sight. He was covered in blood and throwing up something black and icky.

"Miguel?! Are you alright?! Did you get hurt?!" You panicked, fixing his hair and checking his body. Miguel wavered in place and wrapped his arms around you,

"I'm fine...(Y/N)...Don't worry about me," He mumbled into your neck. You frowned, leading him to the bathroom,

"I have to worry about you, who else will?" You told him, setting the water, "What happened?"

"Nothing,"

"Please, Miguel. Let me be here for you," You nearly cried, using a soft wet rag to clean the blood around his face, "Please," You sobbed.

Miguel sighed heavily as he brought you against his chest. His breathing was staggered and heavy against your ear, using you as a sort of comfort. His grip tighten ever so slightly around your waist.

"I fucked up, (Y/N). I fucked up so bad," He whispered. You frowned and fixed his hair, "That night of the fire...I went after the assholes since you almost got hurt. I followed them into this alley and I don't know what the hell they were trying to do but...I ended up getting possessed by...something."

"Possessed?" You questioned. Miguel closed his eyes and nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck,

"I guess I was supposed to be a sacrifice or something? But, I didn't met the criteria and this demon took over. I'm always hungry, (Y/N), always." You felt a sudden chill run down your spine as Miguel's hands crawled up your back, "I can't stop...but when I'm with you, I can feel it relax."

"The demon?" You questioned. Miguel leaned back, fangs poking out of his teeth,

"I won't ever hurt you, (Y/N). I'll always protect you."

"Same, Miggy, but if you're in trouble...Please let me help you," You begged him once more.

Miguel inhaled deeply as you stroked his face once more. He lazily glanced towards you, leaning forward to kiss your lips. You made a small squeak as his hands kept you in place. Miguel grunted as he forced his tongue into your mouth, hungrily.

But not for flesh.

Lifting you up with ease, Miguel pressed you back against the shower wall, ignoring the running water. His groan rumbled against his throat as he started to feel your body lean into his. Miguel was hungry for you. You tasted so sweet against him.

"Miguel," You whispered, breaking the kiss. Miguel rested his forehead against yours, letting the water run down your soaked clothes,

"When I'm with you, I don't hunger for flesh," He whispered, wrapping your legs around his waist, "I want you...maybe...Just maybe, I won't have to suffer like this...if you let me have you."

You furrowed your brows with concern as Miguel spoke. Flesh? Right when you were going to ask him, Miguel captured your lips into another, rougher kiss. His hands pulling your shirt up, exposing your breasts underneath.

"Let me have you, (Y/N)," Miguel begged, kissing and sucking against your neck.

You felt your mind grow hazy as Miguel kept his antics. This was something you had always dreamed of. You tried to reply to Miguel, but moaned instead as he started to nipple and play with your breasts. You needed to ask him more about his demon.

"Mig-" You shivered as he started to rut into you, grunting and moaning with each grind.

"(Y/N), you're mine. Mine, only. I'll eat anyone who dares try to take you away from me," Miguel hissed, taking off your pajama pants.

"Miguel, w-what do you mean b-by eat?" You finally asked. Miguel glanced towards you once more, lifting your hips to his face, "W-Wait-"

You gasped and moaned loudly as Miguel's tongue started to swirl around your clit and pussy. Your hands gripped his hair as you arched your back, crying out in pleasure. Miguel's tongue was lapping up your juices hungrily, holding your hips in place.

You felt your core burn as you slowly moved your hips to Miguel's movements. Trembling as you felt his tongue enter your cunt, you cried out as you felt your orgasm approaching fast. Miguel hummed in response, slowly pulling away from your dripping pussy,

"This taste much better," He said with a groan before going back to suck on your clit.

"Ah~ Miguel~!" You cried out. Miguel watched you contort your face in pleasure, crying out his name,

"(Y/N), if I eat you like this everyday..." Miguel groaned as he lowered you, pressing your face against the shower wall, "Then I won't have to feast on others. I can feel it...the demon enjoying this too."

"M-Miggy," You whimpered softly.

"Let me devour you,"

You gasped and moaned as you felt Miguel shove his cock into you deeply. Tears began to roll down your cheeks from the sudden intrusion as he filled you to the brim. Your pussy convulsed around his dick, sucking him in as you cam heavily.

You tried to grip onto the shower wall, but it was no use. Miguel held your hips, pounding into your poor fleshy cunt. Your moans grew louder with each slap of his hips, feeling pure pleasure. The size of his dick was stretching you out, kissing every part of your pussy.

"(Y/N), you feel so good," Miguel grunted, slapping his balls against your clit with each thrust, "Thank you for this meal, I'll make sure to fill you up too," He said with a grunt.

You cried and moan as you cam against Miguel's dick. Your vision blurring as the shower water poured against your skin. Miguel's grunts and moans turning you on even more. You gasped as Miguel lifted you up, inserting himself again as he kissed you.

"Mhm~ Miguel~!" You cried, wrapping your arms around his neck. Miguel held you close, inhaling your scent as he fucked you stupid,

"I won't ever hurt you, (Y/N). Never," He repeated, watching you cream against his cock once more, "We're best friends, forever, right?"

"Yes! Yes!" You cried, trembling as you felt Miguel fill you with his cum, "Ah~ I-I help...c-control this..."

"Thank you, (Y/N)." Miguel hummed, kissing you in response.

By the time you recovered from the rapid sex session, Miguel went into more detail about what happened with him. You were terrified at first since now you knew that it was Miguel who killed your coworkers, but you also understood.

There was no curing Miguel. At least the two of you found out how to control the demon possessing him. Miguel didn't need to eat flesh anymore, all he needed was you.

"Fuck, more (Y/N), just once more." Miguel grunted as he fucked your pussy from behind, "I can't stand seeing another man get near you."

"Miguel~ Miguel~" You cried into the pillow, gripping the bedsheets under your. Miguel hissed lowly as he gripped your hips tighter, pounding your pussy a bit more harshly,

"Mine! Mine! Mine! If I can't fuck some sense into you, then I'll eat them," He hissed lowly. You cried out, cumming against his dick once more, milking him dry for his cum,

"I understand, Miggy~ Hah~ Hah~ O-Only I can ease your hunger," You whimpered lowly. Miguel kissed your back, giving you soft, gentle thrusts,

"I know, (Y/N). I know, don't mind me," He whispered, apologizing for his tone, "Thank you for the meal...now and forever."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Like I said, never watched Jennifer's Body, but hopefully this was okay and somewhat...what the movie wanted? Idk man, maybe one day I'll grow a pair and watch some horror movies.

Hope you enjoyed!!

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel x y/n #miguel x you

[chronically-ghosted]

you call and I come running

rating: E for Explicit! 18+

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

word count: 8K

summary: a drunken confession leaves you and Javi on unsure ground. When an on the run narco douses you in an unknown, off-market drug, Javier has to save you by doing the one thing that may truly well and good fuck him over.

warnings: sex pollen, dub con due to sex pollen, minimal plot scaffolding to hold up a gratuitous amount of porn, minimally edited, feral!javi is best javi, the barest hint of breeding kink, not really butt stuff more like butt touching, light angst, no use of y/n, spanking

a/n: comes from @perotovar 's ask for my 100 follower milestone event: hi there! congrats on your milestone!! i saw your prompt list and saw "I’m so sick of this ‘will we, won’t we’ shit." and "A whispered, “Fuck, can we do that again?” against the other’s lips." and thought it would be a really good combination for either javi p or max p? which ever one you feel fits better! 😊 (as for smut, only include it if you think it works!)

🤍Masterlist 🤍AO3 Link 

Bogota was begging for rain. At the end of summer, the city and its people had been suffering months of stifling, thick, humid air without a drop of relief. Sweat clung to exposed skin, dampening shirts and tightening waistbands. Heat weighed like a physical presence in the air while open windows and doors sought to tempt in some non-existent breeze, hoping to coax some pity out of the militant heatwave. But the heat and the moisture-thick air stayed, hovering like a cloud of mosquitoes, just as merciless and just as blood-thirsty. 

Night offered no consolation either. Stagnant and cloistered, the sun-bleached air greeted its visitors with a great, warm lick – like the wide tongue of a particularly aggressive bloodhound. The ongoing joke among the locals blamed the blackouts on all the fans, spinning throughout all hours of the day and night, instead of el gobierno barato. Only then came the sigh of ease, in front of whirling blades with ice water behind them. Flapping shirts and mopped brows. Only then, was there relief to the tension. 

Unfortunately, a running car would tip off any narcos in the area, so even that small miracle is denied to the two agents sitting in the darkness of la calle. A crack in the glass window releases a tendril of smoke, not enough to expect a breeze, not enough to wipe away the smear of sweat from across forearms and under knees. 

A drunken confession lingers even thicker in the air.

You thought you could do this. You really thought nothing would change – it was an accident after all. He didn’t mean it – he couldn’t – he was just teasing you, when he leaned over the sticky fourtop in the back of the bar at three in the morning, his breath tangy with the ghost of four glasses of whiskey, his body heat immense and overwhelming as he pressed into you and said – 

Whatever he said, you told him no.

Actually, you laughed and then said no. No, because he didn’t mean it, he couldn’t, he was just teasing you and he would never, ever, ever, ever know how much you actually wanted it and even if – even if you both wanted it, it could never, ever, ever, ever happen. 

It couldn’t. It was so absurd for him to even consider it, you laughed.

And then he never looked at you the same way.

You had done something irreversible. He had said the words, but you had done something irreversible to him. 

Something in the air had changed, maybe forever. And that, that you might have lost your partner, your friend, potential potential potential disappearing in a cloud of Marlboro smoke over bottles of cerveza, that was the worst part. 

He doesn’t look at you the same way.

Or at all. 

He smokes and he watches and he acts like you’re not in the seat next to him. Like his confession hasn’t cleaved him apart.

Nothing’s moved in hours. Neither the target or the shadows in the car. The tension presses up against the windows, hot and stifling. There is no relief.

“I didn’t want it like this, you know,” you say to the sun visor, arms crossed, low in your seat. “I . . . tried to see if Murphy would switch, but I didn’t think the tip would pan out so fast, and I didn’t . . . I didn’t want . . .”

The shadow next to you emerges with his face as he brings the glowing orange light of the cigarette to his mouth. Full lips, short thick hair below his nose, a jawline sharper than any hit of cocaine. 

“What did you expect?” he asks, his voice thick and heavy like oil. It clings to you.

You scowl into the darkness beyond your window. “For Murphy to me a fucking solid, for once. Covered his ass more than once after they adopted Olivia. I just wanted one goddamn –,”

He forcefully flicks the stub of his cigarette out the window as a precursor to punctuate his next sentence. “No. What did you want, if you didn’t want it like this?” 

The acidity in his tone stings you and you unintentionally flinch as if he had pressed the cigarette nub into your skin. 

“Javier, c’mon, that’s not fair.” 

He arches one eyebrow, his teeth clenched in his jaw, hollowing out a pocket of skin below his temple. The overhanging orange streetlights sap the color from his skin.

“So you get to make all the rules now. Got it.” He crunches up the empty box of cigarettes and chucks it in the back seat. You watch him with narrowed eyes as he settles back against the seat with his arms crossed. 

“Why do you have to make this difficult?” You snap. “You know this isn’t easy for me either.” 

“But it is easier than the alternative, right?” After two hours of ice cold silence, he finally looks at you and you can feel the spike of frost in your chest. The twitch in his jaw is the rage in his eyes taking physical form. “Easier than . . . trying. Right?” 

He looks away, already having confessed too much with whisky on his breath, and he can’t afford another slip-up. He knows this. You know this. You want to reach out and touch him but you worry he might physically slap you away if you do. You’ve hurt him in places Javier Peña doesn’t like to admit he has. 

“It’s not that simple,” you say to his thigh. “And you know it.” 

His jaw twitches again. “I’m not asking for your goddamn hand in marriage. I’m just — sick of this ‘will we, won’t we’ shit. I want –,”

“No.” You say and you can feel the word imprint under your sternum. “There’s too much at risk. We’ve been in this fight for too long to get benched and if Noonan even gets a whiff of anything out of whack with her agents, she’ll . . . I want to, Javi, can’t you see that? I really want to – in case I didn’t make that crystal fucking clear. I want to, but there’s no trying for people like us. In a place like this.” The firm weight in your voice pushes on something that makes him look at you again. That rage has dissipated, melted, leaving only a corporeal ache. His brown eyes were endless in their confusion, their disappointment, their hurt. Please, he begs without words. You swallow, your thumbnail digging into your palm to keep yourself from launching yourself across the bench seat of his truck and into his lap. “I want to, Javi. I want . . . you.” 

He drops your gaze as if it burned him. He shifts back, hand coming up to cover his mouth, the side of his knuckle rubbing his upper lip as if coaxing whatever was sitting just behind his teeth back down his throat. 

Javier stares out into the oppressive Bogota night, his clavicle dewy with sweat and he shakes his head.

“Save it.”

You actually flinch. God, you knew it was going to hurt but you never thought it would hurt this much. Hurts so much it claws up your chest with cut-metal knives until you can’t breathe. Until you can’t see as tears flood your eyes.

“Javi, please.” Your voice is calm, despite the small implosion in your chest. “Don’t–,”

“No, I mean – look.” He points out across the dashboard.

The door that has been shut tight for the past three hours has opened. El Corto, a man who lives up to his name, pokes his round face around the edge of the door, glancing up and down the street with the paranoia of someone who trafficks drugs for a living. You turn your head into your shoulder to act like you are adjusting the firearm on your hip to wipe your eyes. Beside you, Javier turns the safety of his handgun and slips it into the back of his jeans.

“You good?” He sounds like Javier, your friend, and that swell of confidence gives you the strength to kick down a door into a whole nest of narcos. You meet his eyes and nod. 

The air is no cooler out in the open when you slip out of Javier’s truck into the dark night of Bogota. Javier strides across the black street, eyes just as fast as El Corto, paranoia just as high. There’s never any telling if the narcos are alone and that’s why you hang back just a bit, eyes on Javier and a dozen other places. 

“El Corto,” Javier snaps, sharp and demanding. The voice of authority. The narco freezes, narrow shoulders going taught. You keep eyes on his hands, your own hovering over your weapon in case he chooses to go for his. “Ven aquí. Tenemos algunas–,”

Without warning, El Corto takes off running, darting off down an alleyway. 

“Fuck,” Javier hisses and pulls his shirt out of his pants, experience the cruelest teacher. But you’ve already passed him –  running your favorite way to unwind, train, and way to avoid your problems, tearing down the alleyway after the shadow sprinting into the night. 

There is something singular about running that is more addicting than any drug the narcos peddled. A chosen target. A finite end. The only thing you had to count on, the only thing to worry about, is how hard you had to pump your arms, the length of your stride, the control of your breathing. Hunting down narcos was a breeding ground for chaos. But not this. This made sense. 

El Corto, despite having about half your stride, makes up for his short stature with speed. You catch only a glimpse of his jacket, then his shoe. A mile through an empty street and he finally comes into view. You’re gaining on him. The unrestrained creature in your chest roars and blocks out the searing pain in your calves, under your ribs. God, you swear you can almost smell him.

Maybe all animals, big or small, can sense the moment before the trap ensnares around them because without warning, El Corto darts left, leaping over a wrought iron fence into the lower levels of an apartment building. He’s gone before you can blink.

Snarling, you squeeze the fence railing as you tuck your legs over it, the momentum of your run clearing you from the tips. 

A voice in your head and possibly behind you is yelling at you to wait, don’t go inside without backup, but you can’t stop. You can’t help it. If you can’t have who you want, this is what you want. This is what you need.

And you need a fucking win. 

You burst through the screen door to an empty concrete room – torn carpet, wall paint chipped away, maybe an old living room – a flash of jeans around the hallway at the end giving a fraction of an indication of your target. So you take off after him, rounding the corner. You watch as he nearly runs through a faded yellow door, the wood cracking and splintering from the force as it slams open into the wall. The door ricochets off the wall, nearly slamming close again, just as you reach it, but the brunt of your shoulder knocks it back again.

And something cracks you across the chest. 

Powder. Blue. Lots of it.

You stumble, your eyes and nostrils burning, as it seizes in your lungs. You cough and hack, trying desperately to unseal it from your lungs, but it barely budges, barely slides loose. Blind and gasping from the heat of your run and through the powder, you veer off course, stumbling into what feels like boxes. Your knees tremble, suddenly unsteady on your feet. 

Through your watery eyes, you watch as El Corto drops the plastic bag that used to contain the powder, a malicious glint in his eyes.

“Puta,” he spits, the slur hardly original for a female DEA agent. He steps back and sheds the gloves you didn’t realize he had been wearing, still watching you with twisted interest. 

You’re no longer coughing, but the air still hasn’t settled in your body. You feel the heat in your lungs rise, expand, then fall, against your skin, as if it is in sync with your heartbeat. With every breath, a sour, sticky warmth presses against every joint in your body, every bone. There’s a knot building at the base of your spine, tightening your hips, and you stumble until you’re seated on one of the boxes, which you now see as packing crates. 

You swallow but your mouth is dry. Head heavy. Distant. Your eyes feel swollen in your skull.

“What the fuck did you do to me?” you whisper. 

He’s not scowling at you, you realize, he’s leering. Eager. Excited. He takes a step towards you. 

A floor above, you hear the sound of the door being breached and Javier calling out your name. El Corto scowls, as though his favorite toy had been taken away, before he tears himself away to the narrow window on the other side of the room. More shipping crates have been stacked against the wall and El Corto scurries up it, unlatching the window. He pauses, glancing back over his shoulder at you.

“Diviértete para mí, putita,” he waves with three fingers as Javier crashes into the room, his gun raised. He spots El Corto just as he slips up through the narrow window – the space no bigger than the width of a child – his foot kicking down the tower of boxes. Javier nearly nabs his ankle, leaping up the concrete wall, as the narco disappears into the night.

His open palm striking against the humid wall is a wet slap. “Fuck,” he snarls, this time pounding with the heel of his fist, “we almost fucking had him. What the fuck ha–,”

He turns and meets your gaze for the first time. His mouth drops in horror.

Sweat blooming across your forehead, you lean over on a crate, limbs trembling, breathing uneven. Every scrap of fabric over your skin burns, your thighs burn, your blood burns, you are burning. The sweat peaks in droplets that run down the back of your neck, under your armpits. Whatever he hit you with makes you want to take off every inch of your clothes –maybe then you could fucking breathe – but even then, it wouldn’t be enough. 

He’s got you by the shoulders, forcing you to look at him, before you realize what’s happened.

“Talk to me.” Javier snaps, that authoritative force sharp and demanding, and it sends an aching bolt between your legs. You whimper in pain, your eyes fluttering. He shakes you. “Stay awake and tell me what happened. I need you to focus. ”

Your lips feel puffy, overripe and ready to split, your jaw tight and throbbing. “H-h-hit m-me with blu-ue – don’t–don’t know what i-it is.” 

Javier steps closer and the scent of his cologne hits you like a train. Groaning, a strange, unwelcome instinct yanks your head down into the curve of his neck, the source of the smell. The touch of his skin beneath your lips is a balm – cool egg yolk over a fresh burn – and you bury your face in deep.

“Oh, fucking Christ, Javi.” Your voice trembles, wavering down into a low moan. That same alien instinct latches your hands over his shoulder, nails digging into the cotton. But it’s not alien, you realize through the muggy, humid fog in your mind – you know this feeling. You are intimately aware of the coiling knot between your legs, your soaked underwear, the tightness of your nipples. But this can’t be happening. It shouldn’t. It shouldn’t hurt like this. 

You gasp, in real pain, a throb that starts clenching your cunt before rippling up your spine and locking your shoulders. You hunch against him, waiting for the contraction to pass. 

“What is it?” Javi holds you, panic evident in his voice. You swear you can hear his heartbeat in his neck. “What’s wrong? Talk to me, goddamn it.” He demands with no bite in his command. 

He peels you off him, you hiss, ripped out of the soothing embrace of his arms, and he makes you look at him. His eyes are wide, mouth twitching. The entirety of his chest is blue, most of powder from your skin covering his shirt.

He cups your cheeks, trying to see if the powder has left an acid burn, as another wave hits and you lock your body, now a battleground against the strangling desire to turn your face into his wide palm and inhale. There’s liquid making the crotch of your pants sticky and it’s embarrassing. It’s mortifying and silly and the ounce of sanity still left in your head keeps an iron grip on every muscle in your body – sanity telling you to not fucking do this. Don’t do this to him. Not when it would mean so much to him.

To you. 

But fuck, you want it. You need it. You might actually die without it.

Tears spring into your eyes, making a gooey muck as they slide down your cheeks and mix with the powder. Whatever this is, you have to fight it.

His eyes dart to your tears, the little bit of powder still on your face, and without thinking, he brushes your tears away with his thumbs.

Sanity cracks the whip – if it gets on him, then –

With the last ounce of strength, you shove him back, as far away from you as you possibly can. The second his warmth is gone from your skin, you tremble and your knees give out. Fresh tears, spurred on by the pain, by the fear, by the shame, spill from your eyes and you curl up against the wall. 

“D-don’t, Javi, don’t. I th-think it’s t-t-transderm-mal–,”

“What do you–,”

You watch helplessly as his pupils contract and then expand wildly, black swallowing that aching brown. He shakes his head like a bewildered animal, sweat already bleeding across his skin, and he stumbles back onto a springy metal cot on the opposite wall. He blinks, hand tightening around his knee. It makes his forearm flex and you have to physically close your eyes, the sight forcing your cunt to clench down on nothing. 

“What . . . what the fuck is this shit?”

You bite your lip, your chin tucked to your shoulder as your body cramps, punishing you for denying it the only source of relief. You squint at him and see he’s half-hard in his jeans. You whimper.

“I-I don’t know . . . new– new party drug?” You grunt, your head thrown back against the wall. God, your skin is going to melt right off your bones.

“This is way fucking worse than ecstacy,” Javier murmurs, his jaw tight. “Fuck, got a bit on me, but you . . .”

He blinks at you, eyes glassy, with sudden and total understanding, with perfect clarity why you shoved him away, and what exactly you need. 

He murmurs your name and you gasp, another cramp yanking new tears down your cheeks. 

“J-Javier,” you swallow thickly, “I know what I s-said before, a-and in the car, but if you ever cared about me, p-please . . . please, just –,”

You can’t encompass all that you need into words, but you hope he understands, is feeling kind despite all that you had done to him. Your bones ache, skin too tight.

He shakes his head, but weakly, his eyes caught on your throat, the wetness clinging to your lips. “You’re just saying that because of the drugs. We have to call Murphy. Get us to a hospital or something.”

“Javi,” you whine and maybe it is the drugs, or maybe he has an inkling of how much it hurts, but he’s across the room in an instant. He grabs you by the shoulders and hauls you to your feet. He drops his head and inhales like he can draw the heat from your blood. The tip of his nose dragged across your jaw is a cube of ice against the furnace of your skin. You shudder, hands clasping around his shoulders, dragging him against you, his hands cupping your hips as if to steady him. 

“I-I’ll give you this.” Javier Peña doesn’t stutter. Your eyelids weigh a thousand pounds as you draw your gaze up to him. “I’ll help, cariño, and then we call Murphy. Okay?” 

You nod, dizzy and overheated and sick with wanting. You nod and tilt your hips forward into his fingers as they pop open the button of your jeans. The sound of the slide of the zipper drives a shiver through you and you feel his cock, fully hard, against your thigh. 

His lips brush your cheek, his voice slurred, dripping slow in molasses, sweet and dark. “I’ll help. I’ll give you what you need.”

The first press of his fingers against your pussy rubs slippery and wet. With a sigh of relief, you drop your head against the wall, hips shoving into his hand, begging for more.

“Fuck,” he wheezes. “You’re already soaking.”

“More, Javier, more.” 

He grinds his cock against your thigh to soothe his own ache. He nods slowly as if dazed, his eyes locked onto to where his hand disappears inside your jeans. “Y-yeah, okay.”

If any hesitation remains, it’s gone when he sinks two fingers inside of you and taps up. You moan and he shoves his knee between your legs. 

“You like that, pretty girl? Does that help?”

“Yes,” you gasp into his neck, his fingers rocking into you. “Yes, Javier, yes!” 

His touch douses the ache, the fire, across your skin, in your spine. With every snap of his wrist, he draws away the heat from your exposed, too-sensitive nerves, easing the lighting storm in your low stomach. The noises you’re making, the noises your cunt makes against his fingers – it should embarrass you, should draw red up into your cheeks and ears, but it’s just more release. You yowl like an animal in heat and Javier’s groin jerks against you. You gain enough sentience to realize he’s fucking you with his jeans on up the wall, his hand never slowing or easing. You can feel yourself gush between his knuckles. 

“You’re almost there, muñeca, I can feel it. Just give it to me. Come for me,” he pants into your clavicle, the spread of bone across your chest. You tighten at the thought of his breath against your nipples, his teeth on the soft weight of your breast –

And you do. You come with the easy brush of his thumb against your clit. White lightning soothes the rage beneath your skin and you shudder in his arms, forehead collapsing against his shoulder. The snap of his hips against your thigh is a bruising rhythm, harsh, feral, an understanding that only something rough and wild can actually save your life. 

“Is that better, querida?” His wide palm pushes the hair back from your damp neck, cradling your heated cheek. His thumb brushes just under your bottom lip. You can feel his own fever, radiating from his skin. “Can we get you somewhere safe?”

But you’re still too high, too taut, to answer him. Another one builds, stacks up on itself every time his rock-hard cock digs into your hip. He scissors his fingers and you bear down onto his thigh. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, but without exhaustion or anger. He sounds almost gleeful. When he looks at you, his pupils are blown wide, sweat making his skin glow. The skin around his mouth is damp. “Alright, I’m not gonna stop. You can have one more. One more, querida.” 

His shoulders tense, the muscles in his back shifting, as he changes the angle of his fingers, renews the pressure of his thumb on your clit. He brushes against something deep inside of you, wet and spongy and never before reached and you arch your back in response, air sucked from your lungs. His thigh nearly lifts you off the floor. 

“Oh, that’s it, isn’t it?” He taps the spot again and tears flood your eyes and spill down your cheeks. 

“Oh my god, Javi,” you murmur and he seems to like that. You clamp down around him and his hips stutter, his moan deep and coming from an ache in his chest. He inserts another finger and your cunt sucks him in, greedy for more. 

He eases back into his rhythm, raggedly humping your hip, the rough material of his jeans burning between your thighs. 

“You’re so close, aren’t you?” he breathes. “Fuck, I knew it would fucking feel this good. You’re clenching down on me so hard, baby.” 

On the tip of your next orgasm, the haze clears for just a second and you catch him in the eye. This isn’t just the drugs, you know, this isn’t just an excuse for both of you. This is hating to see the other one in pain. This is sharing a worry for a bit of yourself that lives in another body. What passes along the length of your gaze is the exact thing you feared losing. 

Selfishly, you’d rather not have him like this, than not having him at all. 

But this is what it could be, he tells you through an open, gasping mouth, through eyes that pin you to the wall, this is what we could have every day, every night. If you just let me in. 

If you just –

“Come for me.” 

You answer with his name, on a cry high and sharp, and you’re coming – harsh, fast, exploding as you drench him, his fingers pressing roughly into that one sweet spot. 

Javi slumps forward, the weight of him nearly stifling, as he gasps, his hips stilling, stuttering, stopping. His skin flushes cold for a second, sweat cooling his fever, his face buried in your neck. 

You feel it. Against your thigh. You swallow in surprise, the fog parting briefly again. 

“Javi, did you . . .”

He wrenches his hand out of you, releasing his grip on your hip as he lowers you down. 

“I’m not fucking calling Murphy,” he grits out.

*~*~*

Javier is a man of singular focus. Almost dogged and single-minded in his hunt, it’s rare he is even capable of listening to the voice of reason. It’s a different voice than his own that tells him when he’s doing something monumentally stupid. There’s a part of him that knows exactly why that voice sounds a lot like you, unconsciously knowing that you’re the only thing that could give him pause. And yet, there are times when he can shut the voice out, can shut out everything inside of him screaming at him not to do the thing he’s going to do. But this, this decision, genuinely has him torn. There is no right way to do this.

Well, there is a right way. One where he takes you to dinner, buys you flowers, walks you home, tucks your hair behind your ear, kisses you softly at first, then rough, until you beg him to come up the stairs. Despite what some may think, he is capable of being romantic. He can be sweet. He can ask nicely. 

But that is something he is not capable of right now. 

In his post-nut clarity – because, yes, he did come in his pants like a twelve year old with his first porn mag after having his fingers up your cunt for what was all too short – he realized the room you both were in was some sort of safehouse. 

A cot against the wall. A portable stove with something in the pan black and sticky. The crates are empty of any valuables – by the shape and length, most likely guns – but the few that are still full have a few bags of that elicit blue powder. He makes a mental note, somewhere on the very distant laundry list in his brain, to take a bag – with gloves on and wrapped up in several other baggies – to have it tested at the lab. Because whatever this stuff is, it might actually be more dangerous than cocaine.

Especially to idiots like him, he thinks roughly as he yanks the thread-bare mattress off its wiry frame onto the floor. He snatches up the cotton sleeping bag at the foot of the frame and unzips it, the inside facing down. This is such a monumentally stupid idea, he knows it is, but he can already feel that cramp building up his thighs, his cock throbbing awake, arousal clamping down on the base of his spine. And he just got a whiff of it. He can’t imagine what you’re feeling already. Behind him he hears you moan softly, never one to complain or whine when things get tough or hard, so he goes faster. He tucks up the other end of the sleeping bag in what he hopes is some semblance of comfort, but he wonders if that will even matter to either of you when it hits again which, judging by how hard his cock is growing, is eminent. The wet spot on his thigh, beneath his jeans, is sticky, uncomfortable. He needs no further reason to unbutton them. 

You moan, this time louder, higher, again and he turns to face you, his shirt already undone to his stomach.

You’re pale again, skin glossy and sickly wet. When your eyes flutter open, they’re glassy, gaze distant and unfocused. You twitch when that first cramp settles in deep. He thinks, his mind not entirely his own, about how deep the clutch of your cunt sucked in just his fingers and he shivers. He simultaneously wanted to get this over with and drag it out for days. Have you beneath him for days. 

Your legs tucked up beneath you from where he laid you down, Javi approaches quietly, kneeling as he takes off his shirt and goes to untie your boots. He touches your ankle as gently as he can and you shudder, cracking an eye open. 

“Javier, it’s coming back. It’s coming back and it hurts.”

In addition to the many, many agency violations, this is monumentally stupid because he’s obsessed with you. Has been for a while. Not just in a way that makes him want to fuck you for hours flat on your back, but in a way that your smile is the last thing he sees before he goes to sleep and the first thing on his mind when he wakes up. An obsession with your wellbeing, your safety, your happiness. A persistent coiling thought about your laugh, and strength, and the way you can make grown men twice your size tremble in fear. You’re a hunter, just like him, and with your beauty – your staggering, haunting beauty – how was he not supposed to immediately attach himself to you? It came on slowly, his pathological need to be near you, and once he realized what it was, there was no going back. No turning it off. 

He didn’t mean to tell you when he was drunk, but after bagging another narco, it was like he could see the light at the end of the tunnel. A brief glimpse into a world where you both were safe, and happy, and – god willing – together and in this world, he told you and he was brave about it and you said it back and he felt warm all over. But that was not this world, not his reality. In this one, he has to save you by doing the one thing that may truly well and good fuck him over. 

“Sit up, baby, that’s it.” He eases you into his arms and it’s like his touch drags you back into consciousness. Your fingers dig into his bare arms as you take in his exposed chest. 

“Javi, fuck, I don’t wanna beg, but before when you – you – I felt better. It cleared. I don’t know why or how, but with your fingers inside m-me, it . . . helped.” 

“I know, cariño, and I want to help more.” His thumbs press up under your jaw, tilting your head up to look him directly in the eyes. There’s fear there, pain, and it’s agonizing to him. “But I don’t know if that’s what you want.” 

“What I want? Javi, I–,” your eyes widen in understanding of what he’s offering, of what he’s scared to do. What he’s scared to take without your permission. 

You swallow, a pink flush crawling up your throat. “I . . . I don’t . . . I didn’t want our first time together to be anything like this, but . . .” You shake your head, shuffling closer to him, your breathing thinning as the drugs start to strike matches against your nerves. “I just don’t want you to think it doesn’t mean anything.” 

“It’s gonna mean everything to me, no matter how I get it.” He presses a soft kiss to the corner of your chin, just in front of his thumb. You nod, eyes squeezing shut, as you fight this arousal that claws into your skin like meat hooks. He pulls you to your feet, holding you steady as your knees try to lock up. He unbuttons your shirt with shaking hands. 

You touch his chest like you’ve never seen a man naked before. The hesitant, awed touch of you sends all the blood still remaining in his head straight into his cock. 

“I’m gonna fuck you now,” he murmurs to your cheek, your shirt off your body, his hands tugging your jeans down your hips. You nod again, speechless in your relief, and follow your jeans to the ground. Twisting on the nest he made for you, you slide your bra off, your nipples already tight and perk and waiting for his mouth. You huff, a sound so unlike you it makes him genuinely concerned, as the front of your panties darken again. 

“It’s okay, Javi, this is what I want. I want this.” You hate being vulnerable, he knows this, your attitude a front that leaves no room for sexist comments in the bullpen. And yet, here you are, deflowered and begging for him. You spread your legs for him, eyelids heavy, and he can smell the arousal on you. 

He drops to his knees, unsure where to start first, but the blue powder coursing through his veins demanding he puts his hands on your hips, which he finally acquiesce to. 

“I don’t think I can be gentle,” he admits quietly. He wants to nip, suck, slurp every inch of you, wants to see that perfect body bend to his will, to his turning. He wants to fuck you open and stuff himself up inside you so deep it leaves a mark. In his haze, the instinct to fuck supplies him with an image of you pregnant, bred and full of him, and his cock twitches so hard he drops onto all fours over you. 

You slip your underwear over your toes and your knees take him by the ribs.

“Please, Javi, please.” 

He knows it must hurt, must be so blindingly painful for you to beg like this. You never asked anyone for anything and that independence turned him on and frustrated him to no end. 

“Please, be rough,” you ask him from under your lashes, your body writhing beneath him. His hips, on a separate system than the rest of him, thrust the rough teeth of his zipper against your cunt and you keen, the sound imprinting into every crevice and curve of his brain. “Make it hurt.”

Oh fuck, this might actually be the thing that kills him. 

He hushes you, stills your flushed whimpering with a kiss that ends in teeth against the high curve of your cheek. He noses to your mouth, then down to your ear, where he bites on your earlobe. He’s balancing on one hand as his other tugs his jeans down and off his hips. 

He wants to fuck your tits. Come all over them, have his spend flush up your throat, your chin. He wants to come so hard he blinds you with it. And then he wants to flip you over and fuck your ass with his come-lubed dick. 

You wriggle and whine, legs wrapping around his hips, tugging him down onto you when, half-a-mind away, he realizes he just said all of that outloud.

“Yes, Javi, you can have whatever you want. Fuck me however you want.” His blood is boiling now, the white-hot bomb settling itself in the base of his spine, his balls already tight. Why he’s dragging this out is beyond him and possibly a medical detriment to you. 

“Javi, just fucking put your cock ins–,”

He watches as every conscious thought wiped from your mind, brow heavy, mouth seared open as he plugs you full of him in one rough thrust. You shudder and his elbows buckle, his body locked up tight because if he moves, if he dares to rub his cock through your velvet, hot clutch, he’ll come right there. Your eyes roll back in your head as his cock makes space for itself inside you.

“Javi–,” he claps a wide palm over your mouth, his teeth straining in his jaw, his temple twitching.

“Baby, I know it hurts – I know it fucking does – but I need you to stay still.” It feels too good. You’re too hot, too slippery, and soft. He can feel the hum of words behind his fingers and he shakes his head. “Do not fucking move – I just need to – I have to –,” 

He inches in just a bit more and you both gasp to the ceiling when he bottoms out. Your rough curls against his pelvis sears him, hot and sweet like cinnamon. He drools when he thinks about eating his own come out of you.

You only get one word out, one word that sets his whole world on fire: “Please.” 

He rears back, yanks you up his thighs, hands cupping the backs of your knees and he plows into you. Your tiny fingers that have pulled countless triggers and clapped irons on criminals twitch, tightening into the smelly cotton fabric, your mouth contorted open. His pace, his thrusting, is relentless, unforgiving but the look on your face is pleased, an almost maniacal grin across your lips. 

“Oh, right there, Javi, just like that. Just like that.”

He’s faster than he is precise. Precise comes later when the bestial fog clears from his brain, when the lust bleeds out of his system, when he doesn’t want to hump you like an animal with his teeth bared and cock so deep inside of you it kisses your womb. 

Before his mind entirely succumbs to the mounting arousal, he’s grateful he had the foresight to take the mattress down. If he hadn’t, there’s a good chance he would have fuck you, the bed, and himself right through the paper-thin walls. 

And then he lets go. Lets this thing in his chest and hot behind his groin take over, lets himself indulge in whatever carnal, depraved thing sparks in his mind.

He’s fucking you so hard you’ll both have bruises by morning. 

He watches, transfixed, at the place where his soaked cock disappears through your puffy, wet lips into the mind-numbing heat of your pussy. He can’t stop watching. He barely feels your nails digging into his thighs. 

The walls of your pussy squeeze him and it makes him falter, hitch speed. His gaze is torn away and instantly, it focuses on the bounce and sway of your tits. Sweat droplets roll from your neck into the valley of your breasts and without hesitation he bends to catch them with his mouth, tugging you further down his cock. You cry out, hands digging into his hair, as his tongue drags a wet trail over the top of your breast, the tip flicking your rock hard nipple, then beneath the swell where he meets it with his teeth. 

You jerk, pleasure overwhelming. “Uh – oh – oh – fuck – Javi.” The words leave your mouth truncated, cut short by his rhythmic bouncing. He nuzzles your tit, streaking you with his own sweat, not able to stop fucking up into you to really get a good grip on your breast, but wanting to put the whole thing in his mouth. 

“I’m gonna do it right next time,” he swears fidelity to your skin. He grinds his teeth against your sternum. “Next time I fuck you I’m going to pull you apart bit by bit. Starting with these fucking tits and ending with my tongue up your cunt. Maybe your ass.”

Against his cheek, he feels your skin break out in ridges, your whole body shivering at his words. He leans up, grinning wildly and grinds particularly deep inside of you. You still haven’t fully opened your eyes.

“Oh, you liked that, didn’t you? You want my tongue up your ass. What about my cock, huh? Want my fat fucking cock inside there?” 

You whine, clawing at his chest, as you nod frantically. He could ask anything of you right now and you’d give it to him. And god, he wants so much.

“It’d hurt, baby, you know it would.”

You nod, words tumbling out of your mouth in a mindless babble. “I don’t care. I want it there. I want you inside me. I want it to hurt. I want you to fuck me raw, Javi.”

He groans, more like a growl, rapidly picking up his pace. He lifts your knees higher and fucks up, the change in angle making you moan so loudly it fills up his ears with blood.

“Tell me where you want it. Say it, querida.” 

“I want it in my fucking ass, Javi.” 

His jaw twitching, that primal, unrestrained urge in him wrapping itself around his spine, he shoves you off him. Wetness dribbles down his lap but he doesn’t let himself smell or see it for long, as he flips you onto your hands and knees, sliding in and pummeling your pussy from behind.

You whine, singing for his cock, and collapse onto your elbows, presenting your ass for him. The pair of you really are just fucking animals.

He presses his thumb to your tight hole, the wet slap of his balls against your ass suddenly the least obscene thing in the room. There’s barely enough room for his thumb there and he tips his head back at the thought that no one had ever taken you there before. His. All his and no one fucking else’s. 

“Javi,” you sob, that preening need gone from your voice as though you are begging him not to go further, but desire kept you from voicing what you actually wanted. 

His bottom lip twitches and he leans down and gently bites your shoulder, grounding you and clearing out all fear. Drugs or not, he’d never do anything you didn’t explicitly ask for, but the second this is all over, he’s going to get on his hands and knees and beg you to let him work your ass open. 

“Not tonight, cariño.” He slides his thumb out of you, his wrist twisting as he palms the meat of your ass. “But I’m not leaving this completely untouched.”

He smacks the jiggling flesh until he sees a pink hand print, earning him a yelp from you every time his palm lands. He feels fresh, sticky wetness soak his cock with each slap, enough for it to dribble down his thigh. He’s not going to shower for a week. 

The higher he climbs, the faster that animalistic heat leaves his blood. You’re not as pale as before, the skin of your back growing a nice healthy flush. As his grip around your hips tightens, he feels your cunt clench around him. If he won’t take your ass tonight, he still wants you puffy and sore. He leans back just to watch his cock pound your pink, abused hole.

“I’m close, Javi,” you admit breathlessly. He nods, leaning forward again, that image of your pussy split open for him deliciously sealed in his mind, and he drags his nose down your spine. Sweat from his chest drops and splatters against your skin.

“I know you are, I can feel it. Can I see your face? Watch you? Can I put you on top?”

You nod and he slips out of you for what he hopes will be the last time in his fucking life. He’s no longer drug-crazed, but he is drunk. Pussy drunk. Drunk on you. Imbibed by the juices trailing down his thighs. He shifts and you swing a leg over his hips, immediately swallow him deep inside you. 

Unlike the courtesy he gave you, you give him no time to adjust, grip his chest, and ride him within an inch of his life.

Your tits swinging in his face, he presses his fingers so tight into your thighs, he’ll be able to count the distinct bruises, and plants his feet. He meets you, thrust for thrust, and he watches your competitive nature battle your overwhelming chase for release. 

“Just come, cariño,” he pants. “You’ve done so good tonight. Just fucking come all over my lap. Let go.” 

His words melt something inside of you and you whimper, curling down over him, which he takes to wrap his arms around your back, and roll you under him. He kisses your chin, your temple, the corner of your mouth. His big palm cradling your head, he grinds low and deep, seeking out that place he touched with his fingers. 

“It’s alright. I’ve got you. You can come.” He prods that spot once and it’s all over. You clamp down on his cock, milking him for all he’s worth because as you arch, mouth open, tears down your face, he comes too. He comes and he comes and he comes until he drips out of you and that breaks another orgasm across you, this one bumpy and leaves you shaking. 

He feels dizzy, unsure up from down, the loudest sound he hears is his own blood rushing in his ears. He’s never been more exhausted. 

He can hear the vibration of you saying something against his throat, but nothing is quite working like it’s supposed to, so he slumps off you, his hand never leaving your skin, as he tugs you against him.

He’ll be dried and sticky in only a few hours – you both will – but that doesn’t matter right now. The only thing that does is the feeling of your heartbeat over his. 

*~*~*

Morning, along with the scent of rain, glides in through the open window and your fingers twitch as sunlight hits you. Your eyes fluttering open, you lift your head from the sleeping bag to see wet puddles on the floor under the window, the concrete streaked and stained with water. It must have rained sometime last night and, shockingly, you didn’t hear a thing.

The heatwave had finally broken. 

It’s not until you’re full awake do you realize his hand rests in the cup of your neck, thumb rubbing smooth, soft circles into the hard knot near your shoulder blade. You smile, groaning softly, becoming more relaxed by how good it feels. 

You roll over and greet his eyes. They’re brown again, the hungry blackness gone, but leaving an edge of uncertainty in its wake. 

He wants to know how you feel about last night.

“You fucked up,” you tell him and that worried crease appears between his eyebrows. You inch closer, your hand curling up against his jaw. “All that time last night, all the time you had me under you, and you didn’t kiss me once.”

You close your eyes, drop your head, and press a fervent, determined kiss against his pink lips. You can feel it as he swallows it in, his body shifting forward, hand coming up to your hip. But just as quickly as it starts, he pulls away. 

Javier shakes his head. “I can’t,” he says almost mournfully, eyes downcast. “I don’t want to know – what you taste like, if . . . I can’t kiss you if this is the last time.”

He’s still respecting your boundary, your wishes, while coated in his release and yours. He knows he can’t be selfish with you again.

You wet your lip, hand still on his cheek. 

“Javier, you saved my life last night. That was some kind of fucked up drug, but if you hadn’t been here and did what you did, I think I would have had a heart attack.” He shakes his head, ashamed and desperate to prove you wrong. You understand his hesitation. It felt too good for it to be anything other than a transgression. “And if anything, it showed me something I think I already knew but couldn’t find in myself to admit. I need you, Javi. I need you because I can’t live without you. Because I love you.”

His eyes light up when you return the words he uttered in the bar. None of this is how it should have been – in an abandoned narcos hideout, but god, there’s not a single thing you’d change. 

“Yeah, baby? You mean that?” You nod as hot, natural desire flashes in his eyes as he pulls your body under him and captures your mouth in his. His warm palm cups your hip, your ribs, up under your arm, and pushes your elbow to your head. There’s more to say, more to worry about, but that fucking heatwave over Bogota has finally broken and Javier Peña’s cum is dried and flaky between your thighs. 

“We should call Murphy,” you giggle, withdrawing your tongue from his mouth. He shakes his head, the blunt edge of his teeth against your cheek. “There’s a deadly new drug on the streets. Lives are at stake.”

“My dick is at stake,” he murmurs, lips hovering over your skin, drawing your knee up to his ribs as he slots himself between your thighs. The smile slides off your face as he thumbs your raw clit in rough, desperate circles. 

“I thought you said you were going to take it slow next time,” you huff, hips rolling against his stiff cock. 

“I will. Gonna take you to dinner. Cup your ass over a distractingly short dress. Buy you flowers and fucking gold jewelry . . . then I’m going to take you home and open you up with my fingers, then my tongue.” 

“So what’s this?” You gasp against his neck as he sinks his cock into you. 

He groans, grunts, as if he hadn’t spent the better part of the night making your cunt his personal possession. 

“This is me, fucking you, before breakfast. Then we call Murphy. Any objections?” 

You squeeze your knees around him, ankles hooked across his low back, sucking a mark into his neck. 

“Not at all.” 

When you do go public, not shying away from holding hands in the office, or openly walking in at the same time from the same car, Noonan is irate, but can’t bring herself to cut her two best agents loose. It seems catching Pablo Escobar matters more than some silly, little government-issued guidelines. She’d get her day in court, but not today. Not for a while. 

Noonan is annoyed. 

Murphy is not. 

“Came across some new party drugs and not a single thing happened, right?”

“You could have found it, taken it home for you and Connie to enjoy,” you say as you slide your arm across Javier’s back, his hand on your hip. He rarely ever takes his hands off you now. “But, no, you bailed on me instead.” 

“Sounds like you should be thanking me, instead of busting my balls.”

“He’s right, baby,” Javier nuzzles your neck. “Could have been him stuck in that basement with me, horny as a cat in fucking heat.” 

You shrug as Murphy makes a face. “I blame the heatwave.”

He leans into your ear. “And I blame your fucking ass in that skirt. I’m gonna take you home, make good on my promise. Any objections?”

“Not at all.” 

#javier peña x reader #javier peña #javier pena fic #javier pena narcos #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena smut #javier peña x y/n #javier pena x y/n #javier pena one shot #javier pena x ofc #javier peña smut #javier peña x you #narcos #narcos netflix #this is my first time writing sex pollen did i do okay?

[steddieas-shegoes]

hiii not sure if you’re still taking requests but

no upside down au where teen single dad steve approaches eddie after hellfire bc every parenting stuff keeps mentioning how reading to babies is super important for their development but his dyslexia makes reading so hard let alone be expressive w it too and the kids keep mentioning how eddie is amazing on dnd. eddie is skeptical cause how come no ones has heard of king steve’s one year old ? but he accepts when steve offers paying but after seeing steve w his baby and understanding how he changed he refuses the money and cue them slowly falling in love and becoming a family <333

Sorry this took *checks watch* like 9 months to finish! I kinda took some creative turns, but it's done!

read on ao3

rated t | 5,182 words | no cw | tags: mostly fluff, single parent steve, not canon compliant, mutual pining, getting together, love confessions

📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚

Early August 1985

“Steve, it’s not like he’s gonna fuckin’ bite, dude,” Dustin said from the passenger seat.

“Language.”

“She’s not even awake,” Dustin whisper yelled. “I promise he’s cool. The worst he’ll say is no. It’s not like he’s gonna bully you.”

“No one else knows I’m asking him this, right?” Steve was suddenly worried that all the kids knew about Steve’s learning disability and they’d think he was actually stupid and-

“No, it’s just me. But if you don’t hurry up and go in before everyone else gets here, they’ll find out.”

Steve glanced in the backseat, smiling to himself at his sleeping daughter. She’d been out for nearly the entire drive from his house to Dustin’s to the high school, so she’d probably be waking up within the next 20 minutes and she’d be ready to stretch her legs.

She was a squirmy thing from the moment she figured out how to scoot around the floor, and it only got worse when she learned to walk at 11 months. The only time she was still and staying out of trouble was when she was asleep.

“If she starts crying, just sit back there with her. She just likes having company,” Steve reminded him as he unbuckled his seatbelt.

“Yep. I’ve literally babysat for you before. I can handle her for 5 minutes.”

“Attitude.” Steve shook his head and opened the door, getting out and only closing the door most of the way so it wouldn’t wake her up.

Eddie always showed up 30 minutes early for Hellfire Club to set up according to Dustin. He took this club very seriously, even as a third year senior. He kept it running all summer so that incoming freshmen would have time to get acquainted with his style of DMing or whatever.

Steve respected the dedication, though he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe that dedication were put into his homework, he would’ve graduated in May with Steve.

But Steve couldn’t actually judge. Not with the fact that he was pretty close to not graduating himself. He had a pretty good reason, but still.

The auditorium door closed loudly behind him, making him jump and clench his jaw painfully.

“Door’s broken. You gotta hold it while it closes so it doesn’t slam,” a voice said from the door to the backstage area.

Steve squinted through the semi-darkness and felt his stomach turn. Eddie.

“I guess it’s been a while since I’ve had to open it. Figured they would have fixed it by now,” Steve replied, walking closer to the guy he needed to talk to.

“No shit! Is that King Steve? In the flesh?” Eddie’s dramatics were endearing, even if it was slightly annoying that he pulled out the stupid high school nickname he’d lost well before he graduated.

“Yeah,” Steve sighed. This wasn’t gonna go well.

“Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but none of your precious kiddos have made it yet. It’s still early.”

Steve nodded. “One of them’s sitting in my car in the parking lot. Um, Henderson? He’s an incoming freshman.”

“Ah. Dustin’s got a place in Hellfire if you’re worried. I don’t turn anyone away who wants to be here.”

“No, no, that’s not it.” Steve needed to just spit it out. “He said you’re like, great at storytelling or whatever. Like you’re the best DM he’s ever seen and he knows I could use those skills for something.”

“Oh? What could Steve Harrington need DM skills for?”

“My daughter.”

The silence following his confession was louder than the door slamming only a minute ago.

He probably could’ve revealed his motives a little better, work up to the fact that he even had a daughter maybe. Very few people actually knew, and he had to keep it that way until he could leave his parent’s house.

“Your…daughter.”

“Yes. She’s just turned one and the doctors said reading to her is like, super important for learning words and helping her learn how to have an imagination and stuff. And I do read to her!” Steve suddenly felt worried that Eddie would think he was a bad parent. “I try to. But I’m, well, Nancy says it’s dyslexia? So words are kinda hard and it gives me a headache if I try to read for more than a few minutes and I’m so busy focusing on the words I don’t think I’m making it very fun for her-“

“Woah. Steve. Slow down.” Eddie braced his hand on Steve’s shoulder and squeezed. “I didn’t even know you had a daughter. Does anyone know you have a daughter?”

“The kids do, yeah. My parents do because they kinda helped cover it all up and made sure I still graduated so I didn’t embarrass them or whatever.” Steve looked down at the floor, shoving his hands in his pockets. He didn’t really want to go through the whole thing with this guy. “Robin Buckley knows? She’s my best friend. The Byers and Wheelers, Hopper. Some teachers know but were sworn to secrecy.”

“Huh.”

Steve looked up to see Eddie stepping closer to him, soft smile on his face.

“So what do you need me for exactly?”

“Dustin said you’re really good at telling stories and I figured maybe you would be willing to read to her? Not every day, like I can work with your schedule or whatever. Evening would be best for me, but it’s not really a big deal if it has to be other times. She comes to work with me so if it had to be during the day, you could sit in the office or something, I dunno.” Steve shrugged. He hated asking for help. But Dustin insisted Eddie was actually a good guy and would keep his secret. No one who saw her at work assumed Steve Harrington was a single parent at 18. That would just be absurd. “I just don’t want her to miss out.”

Eddie’s hand drifted down his arm, holding his hand for a moment before he stepped back.

“My schedule is kinda random. But I’m sure we can work something out.”

Steve’s shoulders fell as his body relaxed. “Yeah? I can pay you. Not much. My parents mostly cut me off.” Steve was scrambling. “I can give you gas money and stuff for having to come to us. And like, food? I can cook.”

Eddie’s eyes were intense, watching his every move, making him nervous.

“How ‘bout a free trial? I’ll do it for a couple weeks and then we can see about payment.”

Steve nodded eagerly. “Yeah, yeah. Cool.” Jesus, he was embarrassing. What happened to his charm? “Would you be able to start soon?”

“Normally, I’d say I can come by after Hellfire, but I have an…appointment right after tonight. I can come by tomorrow?”

Steve smiled. “Tomorrow’s good. I work until five.”

“I can be at your house by seven.”

“Great! I have plenty of books. Right now, she’s really into Old Macdonald, but I think it’s just because it sorta sounds like her name and we get to make silly noises,” Steve smiled to himself, not seeing the way Eddie was smiling too. “I think she’ll probably like whatever you read to her, though.”

“What’s her name?”

“Mackenzie. Robin read it in a book and said it meant fire-born or something? It sounded cool. We call her Mac or Kenzie for short so she hears Macdonald and thinks we’re giving her another nickname,” Steve laughed. “Anyway, I better get back to the car. If she’s awake and Dustin has to deal with her crying for too long, he gets an attitude.”

“Mackenzie. I like it.” Eddie nodded once. “See you tomorrow, Stevie.”

Steve agreed and waved, turning around to leave. By the time he realized Eddie’s nickname for him, Eddie was already backstage.

****

Steve was nervous.

He nearly burnt the chicken he was cooking for dinner just from getting distracted by thoughts of Eddie being in his home.

He didn’t even know why. Maybe it was the fact that he’d always thought Eddie was kinda rough around the edges and was surprised he’d agreed so easily. Maybe it was bringing someone new into the small group he’d had around for a couple years. Maybe it was the way Eddie’s hand on his shoulder seemed to leave a permanent mark despite being one of the softest touches he’d felt from another adult in a while.

Mackenzie was in her high chair already, eating some of the noodles he’d made as a side. She’d been practicing using a fork, so quite a few had fallen on the floor, but Steve still smiled and told her she did a great job any time she managed to get one to her mouth.

The doorbell rang and Steve felt his heart stop.

“Daddy!” Mackenzie squealed when the bell rang. She knew that usually meant Hopper was here. Everyone else just came inside on their own. “Hop!”

“No, baby, not Hop. Not tonight. It’s my friend, Eddie. He’s gonna tell you a fun story, okay?” Steve ran his hands through her hair as he walked by to get the door.

When he opened the door, Eddie was standing there with a handful of books, a box of crayons, and what looked like a hairbow.

“I’m here to entertain the princess!” Eddie exclaimed. “Lead me to her highness!”

Steve couldn’t hide the grin on his face if he wanted to. “She’s currently trying to stab noodles to death. I’m sure you’ll be entertained.”

“Ah, they must have wronged her. I’ll assist,” Eddie made his way past Steve, walking towards the kitchen.

Steve knew he’d been to a couple of the parties he threw to sell, but had no idea he remembered the layout of his house. Maybe he had one of those picture minds.

As Steve entered the kitchen, he noticed that Eddie had set down the pile of books on the counter before he sat down in front of Mackenzie.

There were a few books he recognized: an ABC book that he was pretty sure he’d had when he was a kid but had since lost, a book of fairy tales with Rapunzel on the cover, something by Beatrix Potter, and a couple of coloring books that featured princesses and dragons and horses.

“She isn’t really old enough to color, is she?” Steve asked, interrupting what must have been a very amusing conversation of mostly babbling. “I don’t have any coloring stuff.”

“Coloring with skill? No. She definitely doesn’t have the motor skills to color in the lines or even use the right colors for the right things. But it does help her learn how to hold a crayon. My uncle couldn’t really afford much when I was a baby, so for every Christmas until I was in school he would get me new crayons and coloring books. I don’t really remember how I did, but I do remember having fun.” Eddie turned back to Mackenzie. “And sometimes it’s fun to just make a mess, right?”

Mackenzie clapped her hands together, sending the toddler fork she’d been using to the floor with a noodle attached to it. Steve wordlessly grabbed one of her spoons from the drawer and gave it to her, kissing the top of her head before he knelt down to pick up the fork.

Eddie watched silently, something soft about the way he didn’t interrupt anything even though he could’ve kept talking.

“I made chicken and pasta. It’s probably not my best work, but I made enough for you if you haven’t eaten yet,” Steve offered as he walked to the stove to start plating the food for himself.

“I wouldn’t turn it down. Wayne’s not exactly known for serving five star meals,” Eddie joked. “He believes in the power of fried bologna and cheese sandwiches with a bag of chips.”

Steve grimaced. “Okay, well I made enough for you to bring home some leftovers too.”

“You don’t have to-”

“You’re taking home leftovers.”

Steve turned to see Eddie’s widened eyes and open mouth that slowly formed into a smile.

“I guess I’m taking home some leftovers.” He turned to Mackenzie and tickled her neck. “Your daddy is pushy isn’t he?”

Steve blushed, but continued making up a plate for Eddie.

As they sat and ate, Eddie talked about all of his favorite books for little kids, and how he remembered sneaking into the library after school for years because he knew he didn’t wanna go home. He talked about the first time a teacher wrote a positive letter home, an English teacher who said his fictional essay was the best in the class and he should consider writing as a career. He even talked about his plans for the school year campaigns, but made Steve swear not to mention anything to the kids.

“I’ll know if you tell them,” Eddie winked.

Steve believed him.

When they were done, Steve grabbed Mackenzie from her chair.

“I’m gonna give her a quick bath if you wanna bring all that stuff to her room. Second floor, third door on the right. It’s a little messy right now. Someone decided to pull all her toys from her box yesterday and I haven’t had time to clean it up,” Steve tickled Mackenzie’s side, making her giggle and turn her head into his shoulder.

“You need me to clean this up?” Eddie asked, gesturing to the table.

“Nah, I’ll do it while you read to her.”

Despite his efforts, bath time was never truly quick. Mackenzie loved to splash around and play with her toys, and if he tried to wash her hair too quickly, she would be grumpy for the rest of the night. He definitely didn’t want that for Eddie.

He set a timer for 10 minutes and tried to explain to a very excited Mackenzie that when the timer went off, it would be time to wash her hair and get out.

“You wanna have time to play with Eddie, so we can’t play for too long in the water.”

She didn’t seem to pay any attention to him, already too busy making her rubber duck fight with her mermaid Barbie.

He observed while she played, bringing in the rubber car she liked to pretend to drive on the side of the tub.

When the timer went off, she let him wash her hair without a fuss, and he quickly wrapped her up in a towel to get her into pajamas.

Eddie was waiting in her room when he got there, coloring books spread out on the floor. He smiled up at them from where he sat, legs crossed, hands in his lap.

“Squeaky clean?” He asked, waving at Mackenzie.

“Definitely lacking noodles in places noodles shouldn’t be at least,” Steve said, making his way to her changing table to get her dressed. “She must be pretty excited about you being here. Usually bath time takes at least 30 minutes and I have to bribe her with chocolate milk to get out.”

“She knows we’re gonna have a lot of fun. I think I’m gonna read Goodnight Moon first. That’s one of my favorites.”

“She’ll love that,” he said as he buttoned the snaps of her onesie.

As soon as he set her on the floor next to Eddie, she reached for a coloring book with a mermaid on it.

“Daddy! Muh!”

“Yeah, baby, it’s a mermaid! Just like your doll in the bath.” Steve pointed to the fish next to the mermaid. “And that’s a fish. Fish swim in the ocean.”

He felt Eddie’s eyes on him while he pointed to some other sea creatures and told Mackenzie what they were.

Eventually, he looked over at Eddie, blushing at the soft smile on his face. “What?”

“You’re a really good dad, Steve.”

“Oh. Uh. Thanks,” Steve felt heat flood his body.

It’s not that no one had ever said that to him. Robin had told him plenty of times, Joyce had whispered it to him when no one else was paying attention, even Hopper had given him a handshake and said he was doing a good job once. But hearing it from Eddie, in this situation, when he’d been feeling like such a failure lately, was enough to make him want to cry.

He had to get out of this room.

“I should go clean up and leave you to it.”

“Sure, yeah. We’ll be right here.”

Steve booked it out of the room, rushing down the stairs to try to get busy with cleaning before his brain settled on crying over a compliment.

But the table was cleared. The high chair was wiped down. When he turned to the sink, the dishes were stacked up to dry in the rack. The counters were wiped, the dish towel had been put back on the handle of the oven to dry, and leftovers had been put in a container to finish cooling down.

Steve let the tears fall.

Fuck it, if Eddie was going to be this nice, he could have a little cry.

He walked quietly to the bathroom to put all the bath toys in the basket, but stopped outside Mackenzie’s bedroom when he heard giggling.

He’d closed the door halfway, just so she wouldn’t get too distracted if he walked by the room, but he couldn’t help looking in.

He felt like crying again when he saw Mackenzie sitting on Eddie’s lap, pointing at something in the book.

“Where’s the moon?” Eddie asked.

“Moo!” Mackenzie said, smacking at a place in the book.

“There’s the moon! Good job, little one.” Mackenzie leaned back against Eddie’s chest. “And where’s the…toys?”

She pointed again, but slightly less enthusiastically. Steve could see her energy dropping quickly.

He watched as Eddie told her she did a good job again and then continued reading.

Her eyes drooped more with every page. Eddie’s voice got closer to a whisper with every sentence.

Steve fell just a little bit more with every second that passed.

*****

October 1985

Eddie came every day. Despite the fact that Steve insisted he didn’t need to, that he didn’t want to ruin his schedule, Eddie showed up like clockwork at seven every single evening.

Steve learned to expect him, always made enough dinner for all of them to enjoy before Mackenzie had her bath and then got to read with Steve.

Every night, Eddie would clean up while she took a bath, and every night, he’d let her pick a page to color while he read something to her, switching to a bedtime story when she started crawling into his lap.

Steve would watch them often, laying down on the carpet and smiling as he listened to Eddie use different voices for characters, asking her questions so she was involved, and whispering when she started to drift off.

Other times, he’d try to get something done he’d been putting off, like cleaning the bathroom or folding laundry.

Eddie never accepted payment.

Steve tried bringing it up once school started, certain that this time spent here could’ve been better spent on homework or a part-time job that paid better than what Steve could offer. Eddie just shook his head and insisted that other than Hellfire every Thursday, he would be there for free.

They got to know each other over dinner, and Steve found that he was right to have butterflies every time Eddie smiled at him, every time he would touch his hand as he walked by to say hi to Mackenzie.

“Halloween costume ideas?” Eddie asked with his mouth full. Steve had given up long ago on trying to get him to wait until he was done chewing. It wasn’t that big of a deal. “What did this little miss go as last year?”

“Oh. She was a bumblebee.” Steve smiled at the memory. “Cutest costume I saw all night.”

“I bet.” Eddie took a sip of his water. “And you?”

“Oh, I didn’t dress up.”

“What? Why not?” Eddie sounded genuinely upset.

“Just got away from me, I guess? By the time I thought about it, nothing good was left at the store,” Steve shrugged, unbothered. He’d never been that into Halloween. His focus was making sure Mackenzie had fun.

“And no one offered to help you make something?” Eddie was no longer eating and Mackenzie had turned her attention to him when his tone became serious.

“I didn’t ask.”

“But no one offered.” Eddie stood up and walked over to his backpack. “Okay, we’ve gotta plan. Did you already pick something for her?”

He came back holding a notebook and a pencil, brows set in a straight line. Steve had never seen him look so serious.

“I had a few ideas, but I wanted to let her pick something at the store,” Steve said.

“Lay them on me.”

They discussed costumes for the next 30 minutes, but after only 10, Mackenzie whined to get out of her chair. Eddie wordlessly stood up and picked her up, setting her in his lap and letting her poke and prod at him and his notebook.

Steve watched them both, accepting for the first time that this wasn’t just a crush that was gonna go away.

He’d fallen completely head over heels for Eddie, and he had no clue what to do about it.

*****

November 1985

Steve was the only one who had space to host Thanksgiving.

He became manic a week before, realizing that his work schedule would not allow him to have much time to clean unless he did it at night. The problem was that he would get a migraine if he didn’t sleep.

“So let’s work on it together. I can come right after school. Cancel Hellfire this week,” Eddie offered.

“But you already won’t have it next week because of Thanksgiving. I can’t ask you to-”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering. If I’m gonna be eating here, I should probably help clean up at least.”

So they worked on a little at a time.

Eddie wasn’t always helpful, getting distracted by some of the smallest things. But his company was appreciated all the same.

“You could invite Wayne, ya know,” Steve offered while he dusted the shelves in the living room. “Plenty of room and food.”

“Thanks, but he always works Thanksgiving day for the double pay. We usually do something the day after,” Eddie answered while he cleaned up all of Mackenzie’s toys.

“If he decides not to work, just let him know.”

“Will do, Stevie.”

He didn’t just help clean, he helped him do the shopping, too.

“I know it’s way harder with a baby, so if you give me a list, I can handle the shopping,” Eddie said while Steve plated their dinners.

“You don’t-”

“Have to, I know. But I can and will.” Eddie’s hand brushed against Steve’s lower back. “Let me help.”

Steve could barely resist the shiver that took over his entire body.

“Okay. Sure.”

Some of the brands were wrong, and he forgot the apples for the apple pie, but Steve still felt immense relief knowing that he had someone to help.

And without it, Thanksgiving would’ve been a disaster.

It was still a bit of a mess, but that was mostly because the kid’s table turned into a food fight that Max started and Mackenzie, of course, continued, until everyone was involved.

But the picture Jonathan took would get framed and hang up near the fireplace in the living room anyway.

******

December 1985

“I cannot believe you waited until Christmas Eve to wrap gifts. That’s not what parents actually do, is it?” Eddie asked as he fought with the tape dispenser for the fifth time in less than an hour.

“I don’t know if I’m the best judge of what parents do. Mine weren’t around much and probably didn’t even wrap my gifts themselves.” Steve took the tape from him, pulled some loose from the roll, and handed it back. “But I kinda always pictured it like this.”

Robin made him swear he’d talk to Eddie about his feelings before the end of the year. The end of the year was soon, real soon.

What better shot did he have than while Mackenzie was asleep and they were wrapping presents together?

“You pictured last minute wrapping with bribed help in your living room?” Eddie asked, amusement in his tone.

“Not exactly,” Steve huffed out a laugh. “More like spoiling my kid with someone I care about.”

Steve watched Eddie’s hands freeze against the clothes box full of new finger puppets they’d both gotten her. He looked over and felt his stomach swoop as Eddie’s eyes found his.

“Stevie-” Eddie set the box down and turned to face Steve.

“Wait, I just. Before you break my heart, hear me out.” Steve already felt his world shrinking, his heart rabbiting in his chest at the thought of losing Eddie entirely. “I’ve spent a lot of time with you for months. Like, more than almost anyone else. I’ve watched you with Kenzie, and how much she loves you and always asks for ‘Ed’ even when it’s way before when you’re gonna be here. You make me smile and laugh and that’s not always easy to do these days. You helped me when you didn’t have to, when you had absolutely no reason to trust that King Steve was a better person. You’re there for all the other kids even though you’re trying to get through school for real this time. I didn’t really plan a big speech, sorry. This is just rambling, I’m doing what Robin does.”

“It’s okay,” Eddie placed his hand on the side of Steve’s neck. “I get what you’re saying.”

“You do?”

“I think so.” Eddie stepped in closer. “But I think you might just be lonely.”

It stung. It wasn’t inaccurate, but it still hurt to think Eddie thought so little of him.

“I think I know how I feel.”

Eddie’s hand dropped from his neck and he took a step back. “I don’t wanna argue, Stevie. I just think you might need to separate yourself from the situation. I’m just always around, ya know?”

“You’re always around because I want you around!” Steve was just a bit too loud, but he knew Mackenzie was a heavy sleeper. “When you aren’t here, I check the clock to know when you will be. I get excited to leave work now because I’m not coming home to do the same thing I always did before. I get to see you and hear about your day and talk to you about mine and see you with my daughter, who probably loves you as much as I do.”

“You…love me?”

“Yes. I do. And I promise it’s okay if you don’t feel the same. I still want you here, reading to Kenzie. But I know how I feel. I know why I feel the way I do. You can’t tell me how to feel.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to.” Eddie sighed. “I’m just kinda surprised. Didn’t expect you to be into guys, let alone me. I’m not exactly good boyfriend material. Or stepparent material, either.”

“Oh, fuck that. You’re more her other parent than her mom ever was. She gave her to me the moment she had her and wished me luck before her entire family moved across the country.” Steve felt tears in his eyes. “I trust you. I want you around. I love you.”

Eddie swallowed, eyes pointed towards the carpet.

A minute passed, two. It was rapidly approaching awkward when finally Eddie spoke.

“But I’m so bad at wrapping presents.”

Steve snorted, but felt relief wash over him. “I can do the wrapping. This Christmas, next Christmas, as many Christmases as you’ll stay.”

“All of them?”

“Sounds good to me.” Steve leaned in slowly, let his hands grasp at the front of Eddie’s shirt to pull him closer. “How many Christmases do kids usually believe in Santa?”

“I dunno. I stopped believing when I caught my dad stealing the two presents under our tree when I was four.” Eddie let his hands fall to Steve’s hips. “But something tells me the little princess will be a believer for a while. Better get used to me ripping holes in the paper and using too much tape.”

“Think I can handle it.”

Every time Steve had pictured kissing Eddie before this, he’d thought it would be like any other first kiss, maybe a little awkward since it was his first with a guy.

Instead, it was soft, sweet, slow, perfect. He’d kissed a lot of girls in high school, had kissed them well. Not all of them were great, but even a less than good kiss was still decent.

This was more than any other kiss he’d ever had.

Eddie held him like he would never let go, like this kiss would last forever.

It couldn’t, but that’s how it felt.

When they finally pulled apart, Steve rested his head on Eddie’s shoulder.

“You wanna stay tonight? We can both do the Santa gifts with Kenzie before all the kids bother us,” Steve asked.

“I should call Wayne. I told him I’d be home by midnight.”

“He can come over in the morning, too,” Steve said. “If you want.”

“Are you sure you’re ready for Wayne? He can be a little…gruff.”

“I’m not worried,” Steve kissed Eddie’s cheek. “Hopper’s basically my dad. Plus, Mac’s got a way of breaking the tough old men down.”

“Bets?”

Steve pulled away and started wrapping another present before he got too distracted. “I give it ten minutes.”

“Oh, how generous. I’m giving it five.”

They both laughed as Eddie decided he’d be more help putting already wrapped presents in her stocking and under the tree and making sure everything was put away when Steve was done.

And for the first time, Eddie stayed the night, holding Steve against his chest while they slept.

They both cried when Mackenzie opened her presents excitedly. She was too little to do it herself last year, so seeing her tear through the paper and find joy in throwing it around the room was like a dream come true for Steve.

Eddie admitted he felt like he was intruding for some of it, but Steve quickly reminded him that he was the first person she toddled over to with her new set of princess books and said “Ed, read.”

She sat in his lap right then, even though she still had quite a few presents to open, and he read every single book to her, making her giggle with his high-pitched voices for the princesses and silly accent for the prince.

By the time the kids were coming through the front door, Steve was rushing to shush them, pointing at the couch where Eddie was passed out with Mackenzie curled up against his side.

Steve was never happier than in this moment.

Until the next one, and the one after that.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #anon request #fluff #domestic fluff #single parent steve harrington #getting together #love confessions

[darnell-la]

Hiii there! may I please request a Bellamy Blake mean and dark dom smut with !female grounder reader? An enemies to lovers thing with a lot of tension or anger and fighting m so they just give in and have hot steamy smut?💖 ty!

world count: 5,9K

pairing: Dom!Bellamy Blake x Grounder!Reader

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Hatred to love

Bellamy Blake’s pov

"This place is so shitty," I said as Murphy and I stepped through the overgrown woods. We've been here for let's say, 6 months, and I've never felt more used in my life. Now that the 100 of us helped the rest of the people on the ark, we can work to reduce our time away. 

To top off us being enslaved, we must deal with these people we call grounders. They’re violent and dirty, and think they own the place. 

“Better watch what you say before y/n hears you,” Murphy joked, making me scoff. Y/n’s the leader of these grounders and she’s a real pain in the ass. She’s always arguing and demanding things. They also protect her and do whatever she tells them to do. 

“Or what? Is she gonna stab me? We have guns and I don’t think they have treatment for that,” I said as Murphy shook his head. “I don’t understand why you don’t like her. She’s cool,” Murphy said. 

I rolled my eyes and stopped, annoyed that people kept saying the same thing to me. I don’t get what they see in her. She’s violent, dirty, and has the worst attitude you could possibly think of. 

“She’s not cool, she’s just some girl that thinks she has a say in everything,” I said. “First of all, that girl is 20, and second, she does have the day of everything. At least around here she does, and we choose to follow them since we landed in their territory,” Murphy said. 

“And if you have a problem with that, you can barge into wherever she lives, and argue with her. Hell, fight if you need. Anything to shut you up about her at this point,” he said. 

“Whatever man,” I said then kept walking, trying not to stay here all day and argue about how much I despise y/n. It just pisses me off how many people tolerate her. 

“You’re not gonna stop me, so save your talking,” I said to Murphy before pushing past him and a few other friends. I’ve had enough of y/n and her demands. 

I walked through the overgrown forest, stumbling over sticks and rocks, thinking about if fighting y/n is the best idea. 

She’s the best warrior they say and she shows absolutely no mercy. Even if I were to beat her, her people would kill me for making her surrender. I’ll have to get her alone. 

As I thought of things to do, I made my way through the forest until I was finally at the grounds of the grounders. They know me, so they let me in easily which was a big mistake. 

“Y/n?” I asked the guards of this small village y/n’s always at. They nodded their heads then turned around to walk towards, where I guess, y/n is. 

“Y/n!” One said as we walked upon y/n reading a book that my people gave to her, to little kids. They seemed happy and like they were having fun. I think this is my first time ever seeing her smile. 

“What did you come here for?” She asked. She always seems like she has a tone with me. Only me. “Oh, nothing. Just wanted to walk and talk. Only for 10 minutes or so,” I lied. I have to get her away from the guards. 

“Now you know I can’t do that. They always follow me. Where ever I go,” y/n said as I sighed. “I know, but, maybe they’ll make an acceptance this one time. Please,” I begged as she tilted her head. 

Y/n got up and walked toward me and the guards. She said something in her language that I still haven’t learned yet, then walked passed me. “10 minutes,” she said. 

“So what did you actually bring me out here for?” Y/n asked as she finally stopped somewhere a bit far from the village. “I was thinking we could fight,” I said. 

“Fight?” She chuckled. “Pathetic,” she added. “What’s pathetic is that you need a whole army to fight for you,” I argued. “That’s just how we work,” she replied. 

“What do you wish to fight for?” She asked, making me smirk. “If I win, you stop this boss act and I get to show people that you’re not as strong as you make yourself to me,” I said. 

“And if I lose, you can keep your little act going and I’ll be very, very embarrassing,” I said as she rolled her eyes, holding back a laugh I wanted to slap away from her. 

“Bet,” she said, a new word that she got from our kind as she jumped off of the log she was standing on and attacked me. I was almost unprepared but moved out of the way fast enough and kicked her back. 

“Good reflexes. But not good enough,” she said as she turned and kicked my legs, causing me to fall to the ground. “Fuck,” I groaned then quickly rolled over as she was about to kick my face. 

“Fighting dirty, huh?” I asked as I got up. “Nah, just want to get this over with,” she said before running towards me. She’s always been an attacker which is hard to fight against since she always makes the first move. 

“Already tried?” She asked, looking down at me after giving me the worst blow to my stomach. I hate her but I won’t ever doubt again that she’s a good-ass fighter. “Nah,” I said, about to kick her legs to make her collapse but I heard a gunshot. 

I quickly looked around as I stayed on the floor, hoping to see anyone but I can’t. “Y/n, get down!” I yelled-whispered because she still standing like she was in shock. She can’t be in shock right now. 

“Y/n!” I yelled. She slowly looked down as her hands lifted up towards her stomach. “Did your people use their weapon on me?” She asked slowly as she pulled her hand away from her stomach showing blood. 

“Ah, shit!” I said as she dropped to the floor. “No, no, y/n, you have to get up! Y-You can’t be out here. Shit! Fuck, uh, fuck. Y/n, get up!” I said as I tried picking her up, but another shot was fired but don’t hit us thankfully. 

“Hood your fire dumb fucks! I made her fight me!” I yelled out so my people can stop this madness. They just fucked up our stay here. Her people will never forgive us for this. 

“Bellamy, am I dying?” She asked, sounding like she was about to pass out. “Shit! No, no, you’re not dying. Just- Just stay still and hold this down,” I said as I took my shirt off, and lifted her ripped-up shirt to press down on her wound so she won’t bleed out. 

“Guys, stop it! She needs medical assistance!” I yelled back as I saw her trying to break correctly and keep eye contact with me. She still seems fearless. How could I do this to her? What did I do?

“Don’t worry, she’ll get it,” an unfamiliar voice said. “But that won’t be needed for long,” they added. I looked around until my eyes landed on people in a has max suits and a dude without one. Everyone had a gun. 

“W-Who are you?” I asked as I kept trying to push down on her wound. “We’ll get to talking once we get what I need,” he said then snapped his fingers. That’s when the people started making their way towards us. Towards her. 

“What? No. No, back away! Back up!” I yelled but they didn’t listen. “No! No!” I yelled as two people pulled me away. “Don’t you fucking touch her!” I yelled, making the dude without a suit on, chuckling to himself. 

As one guy went to pick y/n up, she lifted her arm and stabbed the dude in his neck causing him to fall back and bleed out. 

“Get her now! We don’t have time for this!” The man said. That’s when a few people attacked her, taking her weapons and then dragging her away. They’re manhandling her while she’s screaming in pain. 

“No, no! Help! Help us!” I yelled, hoping one of her people followed us so they wouldn’t completely have no eyes on her but they actually trusted me. Fuck. I kept repeating my yells until something knocked me on the side of my head. 

“What is this shit!?” I yelled at the man as he threw y/n on her stomach, onto this medical chair and then strapped her down. They didn’t even patch up her wounds. She’s bleeding out and groaning in pain. 

“I can see you’re not too happy. I assumed because of how you guys fought, you didn’t like each other but I see otherwise now,” he said as one sergeant pulled out some big needle that I’ve never seen in my life. 

“What the- Hey! Hey, get away from her! What is that!?” I asked the man as he took a deep breath, about to tell me the most inhumane thing I’ve ever heard of. 

“That needle you see is what we use to subtract bone marrow from the grounders who’ve been able to breathe on earth for hundreds of years,” he said as he sat in front of me after a guard placed a chair down. 

“You see, my people can’t survive the outside but they can. People like you can too which is surprising,” he said. “We’ve been studying you guys and we finally got one of you which will help another few of my people,” he added. 

“What? You’re gonna- You’re gonna fucking- No, let me go! L-Let her go! I swear to god-“ I went to say but he cut me off. “What will you possibly do?” He asked then snapped his fingers. Seconds later, his guards took me away as I yelled and demanded them to let me go but they wouldn’t listen.

Maybe an hour went by since the guards threw me into this clean and well-kept-up room. I’ve been thinking of ways to kill this man and escape. We can’t stay here. 

As I was about to start my banging on the door that I’ve been doing every 10 minutes, the door swung open to two guards dragging y/n into the room by her arms. 

She looked dead. My heart skipped a beat until I noticed she was alive by her whimpers. They patched her up but her blood is still leaking through her bandage. 

“Here,” a third guest said as he walked through the doors and threw a medical bag at me. “Fix her up, would ya?” He said then walked out with the other two after they dropped y/n on the floor. 

“Shit, y/n?” I said as I grabbed the medical bag and sped over to her. “Mhm?” She asked as I began to work on her. First I cleaned her up while keeping a conversation with her so she won’t fall asleep. 

“I need you to keep talking to me, okay baby? Keep talking,” I said after watching her eyes get heavy. “Hurts,” she said right before slipping away and passing out. 

“Y/n? No, y/n, stay up!” I said as I fastened my process before she looses too much blood. I’d she dies, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself. I made her go out, far from her guards to fight her. 

I’ve always said that if I had the chance to kill her, I would but that’s a lie. Just a big fucking lie. I can’t do that to her. She’s one of the kindest, most responsible, and most thoughtful people I’ve met. I really fucked up…

“Guess I didn’t die,” I heard y/n say as she leaned up on the bed I laid her on. “Yeah, I guess,” I said as I quickly got up and walked to the side of the bed. “Hey, hey, chill out,” I said as I leaned her back to check her wound. 

“Why are you carrying for me? Didn’t you want to fight me? Maybe even kill me?” She asked after slapping my hand away from her. “Hey!” I slightly shouted as I grabbed her wrist. She tried tugging away but I tugged back to get her to stop. 

“Listen! You’re hurt and your people would probably kill me and think I shot you if they find your lifeless body bled out,” I said then pushed her wrist away and went back to slowly pull the big patch I placed on her. 

“It sent Straight through so that’s good. I didn’t know until I started patching you up. You’ll heal within a few months but it takes a good year to get back to your normal self,” I said. “A year!?” She yelled. 

“Chill, okay? I’ll take care of you and shit,” I said, making her laugh. “You? Take care of me? Yeah, it’s hard to feel comfortable around someone who got me in this situation!” She yelled at me. 

“I didn’t mean to get you shot! I just want to put you in your place and-“ I tried finishing. “Put me in my place? And what is that? Ruin what I and my people had going on for hundreds of years. We were doing good with and without you,” she said. 

“You need us,” I said as I leaned over her to intimidate her but she leaned up. I can tell that she was in pain but she kept a straight face because that’s who she is. She’s strong. That’s what I like about her…

“You don’t scare me, Mr. Blake, so don’t lean into my face and not do anything about-“She went to get aggressive but I cut her off by smashing my lips onto hers. She instantly stops talking. My eyes are shut but I can tell she’s looking at me with wide shocked eyes. 

I slowly lifted my hand up to place my hand on her cheek but she quickly gripped my wrist, stopping me. I kept my hand up, not giving up until she slowly let my wrist go, allowing me to place my hand on her face. 

Now she’s kissing me back and I can’t tell she’s probably never kissed anyone. She’s not bad or anything, but she’s flinching at new things I do like moving my tongue, she’s breathing heavily, and seems very needy. 

“You done being mad at me now?” I asked as she kept her lips on mine, kissing me in want. “Shut up and kiss me,” she said as she pulled my face into hers. I did. as told and pushed her down on the bed and hovered over her. 

Her small whines are the most beautiful thing I’ve heard. I love how needy, whiny, and sloppy she kisses me. How could I be so mean to someone like her? She’s perfect. 

Minutes into making out with her, I went to trace my hand down to her lower body but someone started punching in codes. I quickly got off of her as she quickly leaned up, snapping out of what we were doing. 

“Stay back,” I said as I got in front of the bed to cover her and defend her if they try grabbing and experimenting on her again until the door opened to Clarke. “Bell,” she said under her breath as she sped over to me and jumped into my arms. 

“I thought I lost you. We thought you ran away,” she said as I placed her down, not really comfortable with her wrapping her legs around me, right after I just got through making out with y/n.

“No, no, I was just out with y/n and then these people fucking-“ I went to say but she cut me off. “What were you doing with y/n alone? How did you even get her alone without her guards?” Clarke asked like she was upset. 

“That’s not the issue right now. The issue is, is that she got shot and they didn’t give her proper treatment,” I said as I walked over to y/n to show Clarke what I’m talking about. 

She walked over, seeming like she didn’t really care. “I tried my best but it’s not enough,” I said. “You touch her? Aren’t you like not allowed to? She barely had a shirt on,” Clarke said, focusing on the wrong things. 

“Well if I didn’t, she would have bled out, Clarke,” I said with a tone, pissed off that she’s so worried about how I’m taking care of y/n like me and her are dating. Clarke is just another girl to me. Nothing else. 

“Where’s the rest?” I asked Clarke so we could end this conversation that was going absolutely nowhere. “Making sure the guards don’t try attacking the people helping the people that are caged up,” she said. They caged people here? 

“They’ll explain to you. Let’s go,” she said, trying to pull me with her but I yanked my hand away. “We have to take y/n,” I said as I looked at her with a disappointed look. 

“She says she’s strong right? She can get up and get home herself,” Clarke said. “Nah, I think you can,” I said, causing Clarke’s eyes to widen. “You should go,” I said then began to help y/n get up. 

Clarke stormed out as I paid no mind to whatever she was fussing about. “You should have told me you had a partner,” y/n said. “She’s not,” I replied. “Doesn’t seem like it,” she said as she backed up from me. 

“I can walk myself,” she said then began walking. “Wait, y/n, it’s not what you think, okay? She’s into me. I’m not into her,” I explained. “But she still felt comfortable saying those things about me. You’re clearly showing her something,” she said as she limped out of the room. 

I stayed silent and still in the room, cussing myself out that I had something with Clarke. She just fucked up what I and y/n could have probably had. I should have known she’d be like this. 

Before I even pressed my lips onto hers, I thought about how all the women would feel about me and y/n being a thing. Clarke was the first to come to mind since she’s the more jealous type. The others have other people so they don’t need me.

SKIP SEVERAL MONTHS

3rd persons pov

It’s been months since y/n’s been shot and she’s doing pretty well. She still works out, trains, and talks to Bellamy but she never dares to speak about what happened between them in that room. 

She respected Clarke and Bellamy’s non-realistic relationship and Bellamy respect how angry she was at him. He understood how uncomfortable she could have felt in that situation once Clarke started acting a certain way toward her for no reason. 

Bellamy still tried to make small moves but it never really goes anywhere. They haven’t kissed each other since that day. The furthest it’s gone is touched around her clothing to ease her into him but she can’t forget how he made out with her and seconds later, Clarke came in like they’ve been dating for years. 

Today’s y/n’s birthday and Bellamy just found out that the grounders don’t celebrate birthdays since they use to lose track of times before the sky people came down. 

Bellamy is currently in y/n's room, decorating the place with old birthday decorations he found around the place. They had moved into the mountain men’s home after every one of them fled with suits to go someplace else, scared that the sky people and grounders would come after them for murder. 

“She’s back from hunting in a few minutes,” Murphy said as he walked into the room. “Good, and her guards won’t be sticking their noses around, right?” Bellamy asked. “Nope, so you’re good,” he said. 

“You really like her, huh? What happened?” He asked as he looked around the room, seeing how much work Bellamy put into it. bellamy was the one to even set up her furniture when they moved in a few months ago. 

“I don’t know. It’s like, right after she got shot, I noticed that I’d missed something about her a little too much,” Bellamy said as he sat down on y/n's bed and looked down at the ground. 

“I knew you didn’t hate her. It’s easy to tell,” Murphy said. “I read this book that was published back in 2023 and they said that people tend to get more annoyed about people that care about. That’s you to y/n,” Murphy said which is definitely true. 

“She’s here!” Monty and Jasper yelled through Murphy’s Walkie-Talkie. “Good luck and don’t be you please,” Murphy joked as he made his way out of the room. 

Bellamy chuckled as he got up and walked to the corner of her room so that y/n wouldn't see him when she first walks in. He wants to see her reaction. He loves watching her smile. 

“Why is my door open!?” Y/n yelled throughout the hallways. Dammit Murphy. “Hello?” Y/n asked before peaking around the corner to the surprise in her room. 

“Oh,” she said confused but slightly amazed. She’s never seen decorations like this before. “Who did this,” she said under he breathe as she took a step into her room with a smile on her face. Just what Bellamy wanted to see. He's never seen her smile this bright. 

“I knew you’d like it,” Bellamy said, making her jump a little. “Bellamy!” She shouted then covered her mouth. “You like it, right?” He asked as he slowly walked towards her. “Yes, I actually do,” she said. You could see her blushing. 

“Good, because it took me a couple of hours to find everything and put it up,” He smiled down at her. “Thank you,” she said as she began to scan the place and walk around. He can tell she really loves it. 

“You know, y/n. I’ve been thinking. A lot. I know we use to be enemies-“ Bellamy said but she cut me off. “You use to be mine. I never hated you but go on,” she joked. 

“Yes, yes, I know,” He chuckled. “But after that day in the room, I felt something. I’ve always felt it but it never came out until then. That’s the day I couldn’t force being angry at you or having some type of hatred towards you,” Bellamy said as she turned around and he walked towards her. 

“Y/n, I really like you and I’m sorry Clarke said those things about you but I don’t like her. I don’t see anything with her. But I do see something with you,” Bellamy said. He softly grabbed her hands and looked into her eyes. 

“So, could we please start over? Start something with each other?” I asked. “Bellamy…” she said as she pulled her hands back. “I can’t. You and Clarke have known each other for a while. I think she’s best for you,” she said. 

“But I don’t want her. I don’t feel anything for,” Bellamy said as y/n shook her head with a chuckle. “She still talks about you. She’s obsessed and loves you,” y/n said. 

“She doesn’t love me. She just hates the fact that I love you and now her. I’ve never loved her. I barely ever liked her,” Bellamy said making y/n shake her head. 

“Yeah, that’s not what she keeps saying. Apparently, you guys have been secretly dating for years and still sneak around at night in your room or go off somewhere where no one will see you,” y/n said, making Bellamy’s blood boil. 

“And who the fuck has she been saying this shit to?” Bellamy asked. “Me, Monty, Jasper, and maybe a few other girls,” Y/n said. “Well, that shit isn’t true. She just wants you away from me, that’s all,” Bellamy said, trying to softly grab y/n hands again but she backed up towards her bed. 

“Look, we can’t work out, okay? It’s not going to happen,” she said. “Why? Why can’t it work?” Bellamy asked with a tone, getting tired of excuses and other people getting in the way between him and her. 

“Because Bellamy! I don’t want you! You’re too different from me,” she said. “What are you talking about? No one who’s together is exactly the same, y/n,” Bellamy said as he stepped towards her. 

“You’re not for me, Bellamy so just- Just leave, Bellamy,” y/n said but he didn’t listen. “Y/n, you’re perfect for me. I love how different you are,” Bellamy said as he went to grab her waist slowly but she slapped his hands away, shocking him. 

Y/n walked passed Bellamy to get out of his face since he won’t get out of hers but he quickly grabbed her from the back and pulled her away from the door. 

“Let me go!” Y/n yelled at Bellamy. Bellamy threw y/n on the bed and then quickly ran over to her door, shutting and locking the door so that she’ll listen and stay where he wants her at. With him. 

“Bellamy, what are you doing?” Y/n asked, annoyed that he can’t just leave her alone. Why does he fight so much for her? Why does someone like her so much? She’s not someone who’s likable like this. 

“I’m here to show you love, y/n. I fucking love you and you know that. That’s why you’re pushing me away. You think you’re gonna hurt me or some crazy shit but you’re not. What’s going to hurt me, is if you don’t accept me and love me back. I know you like my touch and presence,” Bellamy said as he made his way toward her. 

“No, no, no! No, Bellamy! I-l don’t love you! I don’t!” Y/n yelled at him as she rushed her hands through her hair and rubbed her face, stressed that this is happening. She can’t run like usual. He’s got her trapped. 

“Stop lying, y/n. It’s getting annoying and makes you look more pathetic,” Bellamy said, getting angry. “Pathetic!? You’re pathetic! You have to trap a woman in a room to force her to love you,” y/n said. 

“I don’t have to force shit, and you know that. You fucking know it, so stop lying!” Bellamy growled at her as he grabbed her wrist tightly. “I’m tired of you fucking lying and denying. Admit it. Admit it now!” He yelled in her face, shocking her. 

“No,” she firmly said, hating the dominance someone like him can show over her. She’s never felt any kind of dominance against her but from Bellamy. She can’t seem to function right with him talking to her like this. 

“Get on the bed,” he demanded after letting her hand go, giving her a chance to listen. “No,” she said, once again with a tone, trying to stand her ground until Bellamy picked her up and threw her on her bed. 

Bellamy kept his silence as y/n began to yell at him. He didn’t care. He wanted to shut her for once and make her submit. He wants to get rid of the lies and excuses. 

“Bellamy, what are you doing!?” Y/n finally asked after noticing Bellamy’s shirt off. She’s never seen Bellamy with his shirt off. She’s seen his built-under wet clothes hut never more. This is a lot for her. 

“You like the clothes I gave you in a box? They’re perfect for you,” Bellamy said, making y/n think. Murphy, Monty, and Jasper said that they gave y/n the box so she’d have the best up-kept clothes since she’s the leader of her people. Now she’s finding out Bellamy chose them all. 

That explains the revealing parts, her panties, and bra that seemed a bit too pretty for Monty, Jasper, and especially Murphy to pick out for her. She knew they’d never do that. 

“Y-You picked these out?” She asked, knowing the answer already. “Of course I did. Otherwise, I’d have a talk with Murphy about what he picked out for you,” Bellamy smirked at y/n as he slowly climbed onto the bed. 

“Now will you finally let me taste you? I bet you’re sweet as a fresh berry,” Bellamy said as he tugged on y/n shorts. She tried slapping at his hands but she’s not really fighting him like she should be. 

“Look at that… You look so cute in these tiny little panties,” Bellamy said after getting her shorts off. She tried covering herself up but it was not enough. Bellamy laughed at her attempt as he began to pull her panties down, so focused on what he’s been dying to see. 

“Fuck, you’re wetter than I could’ve imagined,” he said under his breath. She had shaved today in the shower for the first time ever. She grew up thinking shaving wasn’t even a thing until Bellamy’s sister gave her something for her birthday. 

“No one’s ever touched you here, haven’t they? Tell me I’m the first, baby, and I’ll treat so you right. Better than your people. I’ll worship you more than anyone else can, baby,” Bellamy said, becoming full of lust by the second. 

“Bellamy, I can’t,” y/n has snapped out of what felt like a dream, angering Bellamy. “I’m tired of this shit,” he said as he quickly parted y/n’s legs and dived in without warning, lapping his tongue around her floss and clit faster than she could blink. 

“Bellamy!” Y/n moaned loudly at the foreigner feeling. She’s never touched herself in any type of way down there so everything she’s feeling feels too great for her. She’s too sensitive. 

“P-Please, Bellamy! Oh my!” She cried out, feeling her nerves hit her and her clit swell up. Bellamy began to suck any and everything he could reach. She grew wet, only making Bellamy eat her out sloppier. 

“I-I-I can’t Bellamy! I can’t!” She kept crying and shaking as she felt her stomach tighten. She’s never felt this before. She thinks she’s about to pee on Bellamy’s face but Bellamy knows he’s about to take the sweetest thing he could possibly taste. 

“Cum in my mouth, baby,” Bellamy said, and right after, y/n released all over his mouth and chest as she shook and rolled her eyes back. The moan she let out felt like music to Bellamy’s ears. He’s never heard of anyone so beautiful before. 

Bellamy backed away and hovered over y/n watching her eyes shut and her body shiver from the new feeling she just received.  

Bellamy began to take his jeans off as y/n lay there a whining mess, not being able to shake off the orgasm she just had. 

“Work with me and I’ll go slow. Resist and I’ll put you in your place, princess,” Bellamy said as she slowly moved in between y/n’s legs, triggering her kind as she felt his bare skin. Her eyes widen in shock at his size. 

“B-Bellamy, what are you doing? What is this? What is that?” Y/n asked, feeling a bit scared even though she knows Bellamy would never hurt her in any kind of way. 

“It’s yours, princess, and the only right thing to do with it is to get to know it and soak it with your heavenly sent sweet juice,” Bellamy said as he brushed his tip against her entrance to watch her jump a little. 

“Let’s see who’ll win this fight,” Bellamy said right before pushing balls deep into her cunt as she screamed and scratched at his chest and abs, feeling the pain but pleasure. 

“N-No, this is too much!” She whined as she tried pushing away from Bellamy but he’s not waiting any longer. Bellamy gripped y/n’s neck, placed his hand next to her ok the bed to keep himself up, and began to thrust. 

“Bellamy, Bellamy! Fuck, please! Please, Bell,” y/n moaned loudly, surprised at her language and the nickname she called him. “What’s wrong baby? You can finally not take something?” He laughed in her face. 

“You’ve been stabbed, shot, thrown off of hills I heard and you can’t take a cock?” Bellamy teased as he sped his thrust. “You can’t take a simple fucking cock, but you can take all of this other shit!?” He shouted at her. 

“You’re so pathetic,” growled in her face as her eyes rolled back and her moans got trapped by his tighter grip around her neck. “And you’re about to cum? Didn’t know you were a little slut to degrading, with the title you hold,” Bellamy chuckled as she squeezed his cock. 

“I-I’m not,” she whined, which broke into a moan as she came around Bellamy’s thick cock. “Fuck, yes. Cum on my fucking cock and I might treat you better when I fuck your little body,” Bellamy grinned down at her. 

“Bellamy,” y/n moaned as she softly grabbed his face and fucked up onto him. Oh, you’re horny? You like it, huh?” Bellamy asked, very surprised that she’s feel comfy with this so fast. 

“Y-Yes, I like it,” she whined. Y/n tried pushing Bellamy to the side but he was too strong. He watched her struggle until he let her overpower him and climb onto him. 

“Oh, shit,” Bellamy said shocked as y/n grabbed his cock and lined herself up to her own entrance until she dropped down on him with a loud moan. “Fuuuucck!” Bellamy bucked his knees. 

“So sexy,” Bellamy growled as he pulled y/n’s shirt and bra off. “Ride me, baby,” Bellamy said. Y/n didn’t waste any time to start. The moans leaving her mouth were nonstop. Her rhythm is as well. 

“You ride so good baby. All of that adrenaline in this sexy little body, coming to life,” Bellamy wrapped his large hands around her waist to help her. He gave her ass some smacks here and there, only making her sex drive higher. 

“Never knew your tits were so beautiful,” Bellamy grabbed one for a few seconds then began to pinch her nipple to give y/n a better feeling. “Bell,” she moaned as she leaned down in his face. 

“Right there,” he said, feeling his orgasm right around the corner. She stuffed his mouth with y/n’s free nipple and began sucking, only having her cum for the 3rd time with a wilder shake. 

She still tried to ride him but soon stopped as Bellamy held her down with one of his hands on her waist. Bellamy groaned loudly as he released a big load into y/n. He’s never shaken before. But this time it felt too good to hold still. 

Both pulled each other closer together as they rode out their orgasm together.

After cleaning each other up and talking about what the two should do further, they decided to officially be something. 

Y/n had to explain to Bellamy that if she were to date someone, within a month, they’ll have to do a traditional marriage because of her title of the leader. 

Bellamy couldn’t have had better news said to him. It was one thing for him to be her boyfriend but officially making her his is something he thought he’d have to wait years for. No, he doesn’t. 

Y/n and Bellamy lived life to be the best couple anyone could have imagined. They’ve grown both of their people closer and helped generations of people understand that no one is truly your enemy unless you make them out to be. 

#the 100 #the 100 fanfiction #the 100 smut #the 100 fandom #the 100 fic #bellamy blake #bellamy blake smut #bellamy x reader #bellamy imagine #x reader #pure smut #smut #imagine #one shot #fem reader #18+ fic #18+ content #18+ only #18+ #18+ minors dni #18+ post #wattpad

[bookishfeylin]

I know you don't usually do these kinds of posts, but you're probably one of the most implicated in black history month people that I follow so I wanted to ask you, as I already value your opinions in Acotar, what do you think of the documentary where actual historians claim Cleopatra was a black woman? Lately, this has been a pretty active topic on my fyp on TikTok, and I wanted to know a black woman's perspective on this.

Thank you in advance, and if you usually don't answer these questions or don't want to answer this one, I'll totally understand, and there's no problem at all.

I didn’t know there was a new documentary out, but when I saw the name Cleopatra I automatically sighed because I knew what was coming. This is a subject a know a little 🤏🏾 about, actually, because I researched it a bit myself in my last year of high school (and stopped because of the uh. NASTINESS associated with this particular subject) and though it’s been a few years I remembered some main, basic things, and I wanted to check a few things first.

At best, in the most CHARITABLE interpretation as far as I in my limited knowledge can tell, it would be correct to say that’s it’s POSSIBLE that she MAY have been mixed Black because, though she was part of the GREEK Ptolemaic dynasty that ruled Egypt (Ptolemy being one of Alexander the Great’s generals who got the Egyptian portion of his empire after Alexander died), that’s on her fathers side; her mother’s exact ethnicity isn’t known. Not that this won’t stop the hoteps from running off and claiming her and all of ancient Egypt as Black though So some have ***speculated*** that her mother—and thus Cleopatra—may have potentially been part Egyptian (and that goes into the issue of deciding that the “Egyptian” in this instance had to have been Black rather than MENA but that’s again a whole other can of worms). BUT it’s more likely that her mother was Greek due to the uh, PRACTICE™️ of inbreeding and it not being common for the dynasty to marry Egyptians. So it’s more probable that she was fully Greek/Macedonian and not part Egyptian, much less part Black. (Also some historians speculate she may have had Persian blood? I guess? Again it’s a can of worms, not something i’m digging deep into because of the nastiness that you often stumble across) Unless there’s a new study confirming her mother’s identity or something that I missed, it’s simply incorrect to claim that Cleopatra was undeniably Black, because though it is ***possible*** she most likely ***wasn’t.***

But this topic really upsets me, because there are LEGITIMATE Black kingdoms and empires who were mighty and well developed and powerful like the Aksumite empire and kingdoms of Kongo and Loango and the Great Zimbabwe empire and the empires of Ghana and Mali and Songhay and the Ashanti kingdom and the WHOLE SWAHILI COAST THAT WAS INVOLVED IN THE INDIAN OCEAN TRADE ROUTE and they had their own great rulers, their own kings and queens and emperors and empresses, their palaces and castles, their own cities and towns, their own complex civilizations and dynastic royal families that deserve the attention Cleopatra and ancient Egypt get. They were erased—and Egypt was not—by white people to prop themselves up as the only race capable of forming civilizations and advanced societies as a means of justifying colonization and imperialism to “civilize” the rest of the world and as a result many of those other empires have been erased from our education system here in the states and many people cling to ancient Egypt as proof that we’re not inferior and aren’t savages like white people claim due to believing that since Egypt’s in Africa it had to have been mostly Black when Egypt, and the Ptolemaic dynasty and Cleopatra in PARTICULAR, are literally the worst example that could’ve been chosen and were the only African kingdom spared erasure FOR A REASON.

Anyway, I don’t like it, it’s disingenuous and does US wrong because we need to give that energy to other African kingdoms that need and could use the fame Egypt + Cleopatra get, and we deserve a better education system to teach us this stuff. I hope this answers your question? And I don’t mind any kinds of asks 🥰

#I get the desire to claim Egypt because I remember in high school a racist white guy asked why Africans didn’t build their own civilizations #And that’s what sent me researching in the first place so I truly get the frustration but black women we can do BETTER #ask #anon #cleopatra #egypt #africa #racism #Don’t come at me in my inbox yall #antiblackness

[brewsterispunkk]

THE TUTOR

eddie munson x reader

part 1/4

pairing: eddie munson x f!reader, eddie munson x shy!reader (only one use of y/n and I cringed writing it)

rating: 18+ mature! minors be gone!

summary: reader has had a secret crush on Eddie Munson for months, only she has been too scared to tell him. When she’s forced to tutor him, she lets it slip that she feels like she’s missed out on the normal “high school experience.” Eddie aims to change that.

A/N: this has been in my drafts since LAST MAY!!! & i am just now finishing it jfc. this is part one to a series I’m looking to make three parts! I’ll finish it if it’s the last thing I do!

You hated first period. Always had, ever since sophomore year when you’d had AP literature with the juniors and Carol Perkins had made it her life’s work to make your life a living hell.

You didn’t know exactly what you had done to make her hate you so much, but early on in the year, she’d made it abundantly clear that you were going to be her new target. And you, being the only awkward, braces-faced sophomore in the class, had elected to suck it up and take the bullying.

After all, she was telling you everything you already knew; your hair was frizzy, your teeth were crooked, your acne was ugly and awful. The usual things that you, with the same awful self esteem that was characteristic of every knobby-kneed 14-year-old, had already heard and already believed.

Eventually, when your study-buddy and the only other underclassman in the class, Nancy Wheeler, found out about the full extent of the bullying, she’d done something about it. She had just started dating Steve Harrington at that point, and despite his larger than life hair and not so great reputation, he was nice to you by association. He was the one who got Carol to stop.

Still though, you thought that that god-awful year of excruciating first-period classes had ruined them for you for good; conditioned you somehow into expecting the worst from your first class of the day so that now, as a senior, you still dreaded it.

Today was no different.

You tapped your foot distractedly in the back seat of Steve’s car as he pulled out of your neighborhood.

“For the last time, Robin, no you cannot play the new Clash cassette. Put it away—“

“Oh come on, Harrington. It’s good.” Robin sighed exasperated. She’d been your next door neighbor since you were five, and your best friend ever since.

“Oh, oh! Like the new Madonna album?” Steve asked, eyebrows raised as he looked at Robin in the passenger seat.

“Or the Duran Duran one?” You piped in, biting your nails and looking at her expectantly. Immediately, her head whipped back to you, mouth open in a silent gasp.

“Wha—“ she made a choked sound, looking between you and Steve before bringing her gaze back to you, narrowing her eyes. “Who’s side are you on?”

“Uhm, the side of good music.” You countered, playfully sassing your best friend.

“Wow..” she drawled dramatically, interrupting you.

“And right now,” you continued. “Harrington has the better mixtape. Sorry!” You batted her hand away as she reached back to smack your arm.

“Boom!” Steve declared triumphantly, raising his hands from the wheel for a split-second. “Sorry, Robs, we love you but if I have to listen to one more of your mix tapes, I’m gonna—“

“Yeah, yeah! I get it.” Robin was silent for a moment before turning around to glance between the two of you. “You know, every day I remember how it was me that got this little group together, and every day it comes back to bite me in the ass.”

“Oh right,” Steve scoffed. “You’re forgetting, I’ve known y/n since junior year, and I’ve only known you for like, I don’t know, nine months.”

“Okay, but you two weren’t friends.” She gave Steve a pointed look. “It wasn’t until I convinced her to come work with us at Scoops Ahoy that we all started hanging out. So what I should be hearing is ‘thank you Robin.’”

In the rear view, you saw Steve roll his eyes at her antics, a smirk on his face.

“Actually,” you pointed out. “Steve and i hung out almost every day sophomore year.”

“Yeah,” Robin pressed. “But that was because of miss prissy-pants, Nancy Wheeler, not because you two were friends.”

You bristled a bit at your best friend’s name for Nancy. You knew she probably didn’t mean anything by it, but still. She didn’t know Nancy like you did. And Nancy had been nice to you when you didn’t have many friends besides Robin. She’d made it her problem when you were being bullied and did what she could to stop it, when she didn’t have to.

You and Nancy hadn’t really talked much since she and Steve broke up. Even after the whole ordeal last summer, with the mall “fire,” and Russian agents in Hawkins, you two hadn’t really reconnected. But there was no bad blood there. You wished her the best.

“I don’t know, Robs,” Steve interjected. “I think she gets bragging rights for knowing me longer.”

You laughed at that.

“Oh whatever,” Robin shook her head, leaning her elbow on Steve’s open window, bopping her head to the music pouring through the speakers.

“Good god, I don’t wanna be going back there.” She groaned as Hawkins High came into view. “It’s not too late to skip you know.” She craned her head back to look at you, a hopeful look in her eyes.

“I’m highly considering it.” You bounced your knee, trying to relieve some of the tension in your limbs.

“Ugh, no I can’t.” Robin exasperated. “My moms gonna kill me if she finds out I skipped again.”

There goes my chance, you thought, knowing there’s no way you’d skip without her.

“Yeah, I do not miss this place, gotta say.” Steve mused as he pulled into the parking lot. Robin rolled her eyes at him. You chuckled. They fought like an old married couple.

“I have Ms. Taylor first period,” you groaned at the memory of the stern, mean older woman who you had for home room this semester.

“Oh god,” Steve laughed. You smacked his shoulder. “Well, good luck with that. I’ll see you two at 3.”

You and Robin begrudgingly exited Steve’s car, facing the pit of despair known as Hawkins High School.

Thank god this was your last year, you thought to yourself.

As you eyed down the beige brick building, you could’ve sworn you felt a bit of your soul get sucked out. It may sound dramatic, but it was true. You felt yourself retreat into yourself the closer you got.

Something about Hawkins high just did that to people. Made them retreat and put on whatever mask they had to go get through the day. You were no exception.

“Let’s get this over with,” Robin mumbled beside you, beginning to walk toward the doors.

“Let’s.” You sighed back.

- - - - - -

There was one aspect of first period English with Ms. Taylor that you considered a saving grace—not that you’d ever admit it out loud.

Eddie Munson.

You weren’t sure why it started, if you were honest with yourself.

In fact, at the beginning of the year, you, like everyone else, were actually a little bit terrified of the lanky, tall metalhead that the rest of the school had dubbed “the freak.”

Before this year, you hadn’t really had many encounters with Eddie Munson. You’d known of him, sure, but never really interacted with him. Besides the few random outbursts he’d have in the cafeteria, and one time when you’d given him a pencil in your art elective freshman year, you’d kept your distance. Most of what you’d heard about him came from the kids; which meant they were lies, at worst, and exaggerations at best. You could tell they admired him from the way they spoke of him—Dustin in particular, who had spoken of Eddie in the way he’d only ever spoken of one person before: Steve. But that was the extent of your knowledge.

Eddie had been two years ahead of you technically, although now he was a senior, same as you, and stuck in the same miserable first period English class with Ms. Taylor.

It had started out innocent enough, you liked to tell yourself. You weren’t always swooning over him and his leather jackets or studded rings. It had just snowballed.

It had begun like this: it was the first day of your senior year, and to add to your nerves at a new dreadful year, Ms. Taylor had given you, and all your classmates, assigned seats.

Great, you’d thought. Just great. Now you had to sit next to a complete stranger while also being a complete ball of anxiety all class.

You were early. Much to your chagrin, Steve had insisted on picking you and Robin up earlier than usual because it was your first day, and what if you have trouble finding your classes. Completely ignoring the fact that you and Robin had gone to Hawkins High for three years and knew it like the back of your hand.

Still, it had gotten you here, 15 minutes early to the first bell, trapped in a room with no one other than Ms. Taylor, and Eddie Munson himself.

“You’ll be right there, beside Mr. Munson.” Ms Taylor had drawled monotonously, eyes focused on a stack of papers on her desk.

You froze, looking over at Eddie, who was scribbling down in a notebook in the second to last row of desks from the back. He looked up at you for a moment before going back to his writing.

“Did you hear me?” Ms Taylor said your last name. You snapped out of it, smiling over at her and gripping the strap to your backpack before making your way to the seat.

“Yeah. Sorry, Ms. Taylor.”

You sat down rigidly, looking anywhere but at Eddie. Ms Taylor left the room to refill her coffee cup in the teacher’s lounge, leaving you and him the only people in the room.

You felt your hands begin to shake at the impending doom of first period rolling around. You knew it was dumb; it’d been two years since the first-period-from-hell, and you still couldn’t shake your fear of home room. You clasped them together, folding your fingers on top of each other on the desk, trying to calm your breathing. Your heart pounded in your ears.

“Look, you can relax, okay,” Eddie’s annoyed voice beside you snapped you out of it. “I won’t bite.”

You looked over at him, his face looked impatient, though if you looked closely, you thought you could detect a little bit of hurt there too. Your eyebrows furrowed, before you realized what he must have been thinking.

He thought you were scared of him.

It made sense, though that was far from what was going through your head.

“No,” you began quietly, before clearing your throat. “That’s not what I—that’s not—that’s not it.”

“Whatever you say,” he mumbled, eyebrows raised as he continued writing.

That was the day it started. The watching him.

It’d begun as a way of coping; a way to distract yourself from Ms. Taylor’s droning on about Shakespeare, or the whispers of the two mean girls who sat at the front and liked to glance back at you and snicker.

Your therapist had mentioned the method to you a few months before, a way to maybe cope with your anxiety in anticipation with the upcoming school year. It was a method that your shrink had described as a way of ‘hyper-focusing’, or concentrating on one thing until the anxiety wore away.

And in the haze of your first day, you’d focused on Eddie.

But eventually, as the year wore on, it developed into something different.

You began to notice his hair; how it would fall over his face as he frowned in concentration at whatever he was writing in that book. His hands, big and flanked with gaudy silver rings. You began to wonder how they’d feel on your skin, running through your hair, over your stomach.

It was almost a type of game you played with yourself; a form of escapism. On days your anxiety got too much, the days your hands would sweat and your feet couldn’t cease their tapping, you could look beside you and focus on Eddie. And it would all fall away.

You supposed that’s why you kept your little obsession a secret; it was embarrassing.

Not the fact that you were infatuated with him, but the fact that you’d been using practically a complete stranger to talk yourself down from anxiety attacks. You hadn’t even told Robin, the person you shared everything with. And somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew that this wasn’t some little crush or admiration—it was more than that.

But you refused to admit that to yourself, because there was one huge, glaring problem. That being that Eddie Munson hated you. You were sure of it.

It was as if after the awkward encounter you’d shared at the beginning of the year, he avoided you like the plague. Not looking, talking, or even so much as breathing your way once. And the one time when you’d gotten the nerve to ask him a question, he’d barely grunted out a response before the had rung and he was gone.

That had been the first and last time you’d attempted to talk to Eddie Munson. Your crush was doomed, you knew it. Not only were you convinced he couldn’t stand you, you also were almost positive that he still thought you were scared of him, like he did at the beginning of the year.

Which, to be fair, you were. Just not in that way. As far as Eddie was concerned, you were scared of him in the judgy, superficial, ill-intentioned way that the rest of Hawkins was, not in the butterflies, tongue-tied, make-your-hands-sweat way that you truly were.

Besides, even if you were the most confident person in the world (you were far from it), and if Eddie didn’t, for some inexplicable reason, hate you, you were sure that you would have absolutely no chance with him anyway. Because why would Eddie Munson, all crooked smiles and sure steps and kind eyes, be even the least bit interested in you? It was inconceivable. Because you were shy and scared and binary and everything he was not.

So, you’d deduced that you were doomed to wait out this life-ruining crush the same way you’d been doomed to wait out countless other things in your high school life: silently.

- - - - -

Today was no different than the other nearly insufferable first periods you’d endured this school year, aside from the fact that today was Monday, which brought with it a more tired you, and a much, much more irritable Ms Taylor.

She’d assigned two detentions so far this period, to Bradley Green and Doug Mitchell, two boys from the basketball team that had been throwing spitballs and harassing Eddie, who merely smirked at them in response, effectively egging them on.

You glanced at the clock, tapping your foot subconsciously on the off-white tile below your feet.

5 minutes left, you reminded yourself, watching the clock tick down. Your hands started to clam up. Perfect.

You let out a shaky breath. A few rows in front of you, Pam Simpson and Diana Fiorelli glanced back, eyes zeroing in on you, before Pam snickered and leaned over to whisper into Diana’s ear.

This wasn’t new; they always had some off-color remark or an unnecessary eye-roll to throw at you ever since they found out about your close friendship with Steve Harrington, former king of Hawkins High.

How two nerds like yourself and Robin Buckley had managed to bag someone as popular as Steve the hair Harrington as a best friend seemed to be beyond them, and they sought everyday to punish you for it.

The truth was: Steve had left all of that behind. From the wake-up call that was his break-up with Nancy, to the whole fighting-monsters-from-another-dimension thing, he didn’t really care about it anymore. He’d found better friends in you guys. The whole Russians-in-Hawkins, and Starcourt “fire” helped too.

It was true what they said about trauma: it brought people together.

You tried to ignore their whispering, like Robin had encouraged you.

She was absolutely livid when she’d found out that Diana had “accidentally,” spilled her yogurt parfait over your new blouse last week. It had taken a whole five minutes of both you and Steve talking her down from her stupor to stop her from marching straight to the gymnasium, interrupting cheer practice, and giving Diana a black eye. After though, when you’d managed to calm your best friend down, she’d gone off—trying to convince you to stick up for yourself, to say something. If not to the mean girls themselves, then to Ms Taylor at the very least.

But that was the difference between you and Robin; where she would act, you would listen. Remain passive. It was a trait that served you well when it came to retaining information or solving upside-down-related issues, in situations like these, it kind of screwed you over.

You turned your head from the front of the classroom, blocking out Ms Taylor’s lecture on T. S. Elliot and instead turning your head to the desk beside yours. Eddie’s desk.

He was hunched over, head on his hands, which were crossed and folded on top of the desk in front of him. His chin rested there, and his dark eyes were focused on the board, squinting, as if trying to make out what it said.

He seemed to be trying to pay attention, a stark contrast to how you usually saw him hunched over around his worm notebook, scribbling or drawing.

He wore dark blue jeans today, instead of his usual black ones, and a Quiet Riot band T-shirt . His leather jacket was draped over the chair behind him, as Ms Taylor’s room was hot today. His hair fell messily over his back and in front of his face. His ringed fingers tapped on the desk—he was evidently as anxious for the class to end as you were.

You knew he had trouble focusing. You’d picked up on as much throughout the school year, watching him try and try and try to stay locked in to whatever Ms Taylor was teaching.

So many of your classmates had written him off: cult leader, satanist, idiot, freak, but you saw something different. The Eddie you knew (well, not really knew, more like observed) was none of those things. He was different, yes. Flamboyant, sure. But he was not an idiot. Nor was he evil or freakish or anything of the sort.

The ringing of the bell snapped you from your thoughts. You jerked your head back to your desk as your classmates began to pack up and bustle out to their next classes, the sound of backpacks zipping and chatter filling the classroom.

Per usual, Eddie was the first out of his seat, already packed and ready, before leaving the classroom with long strides, eyes trained on the floor, narrowly avoiding your gaze.

You shoved your notebook into your bag, bending over to zip it up and run like hell out of the classroom. You hoped to avoid any unnecessary contact with Pam and Diane. Ms Taylor cleared her throat, before saying your name.

“I’d like to see you for a moment, please,” she said monotonously, eyes focused on the grade book in front of her. A shot of anxiety spread through your stomach.

“Yes, Ms Taylor?” You asked quietly, noting that you were the only two people left in the classroom.

“You have one of the top grades in the class, second only to Mr. Levy, did you know that?” She asked, still not looking up. You puzzled. So you weren’t in trouble?

“Uh-I-no, I didn’t, actually.” You mumbled, brows furrowed.

“Indeed,” she hummed. “I also have been made aware that you are lacking an extracurricular for graduation, is that correct?”

Shit, you thought. She was right.

Last summer, you’d been set to take a summer gym elective; the ones that the school offered during the school year were too crowded and made your anxiety act up, so you and Robin had both signed up to take summer gym. However, the upside-down and the Russians’ presence in Hawkins at Starcourt had had other plans, so both you and her had failed the class, due to bad attendance. And while Robin had made sure to complete her gym credit last semester, you’d completely forgotten about the whole debacle until now.

“Yeah,” you breathed, in shock that you’d managed to forget about something so important when graduation was only months away. “I-I forgot—“

“I figured as much,” Ms Taylor cut you off, finally looking up at you. “Well, seeing as it’s too late in the semester to sign you up for any electives, it would seem that you’ll be having to repeat your senior year.”

Your breath left your lungs.

No, you thought, no, no, no. The last thing you could handle was another year stuck here. In this high school, in this city. You felt your breathing stutter at the thought.

“Luckily for you,” Ms Taylor continued, refocusing you on the moment. “I have a solution that may just save you from that.”

You blew out a breath between your lips, looking at her anxiously.

“Yes,” you breathed out. “Anything— I completely forgot about—“

“I trust you’re familiar with Mr. Munson?” She interrupted you. Your brows furrowed. What did Eddie have to do with this?

“Yes.”

“Well, then I’m sure you’re aware that this will be his second time repeating his senior year.” Ms Taylor looked up at you now, her beady eyes laser-focused. “If he fails again, the school won’t be giving him another chance. It would seem that this class is one of the only things standing between him and a one-way ticket out of this school.”

“I dont think I follow—“ you began.

“You will tutor Mr Munson.” She clarified, face stoic as ever. “From now until the end of the spring semester. If you do this, and if I see improvement, I will make it count as your extracurricular. You’ll be able to graduate on time, and he will get the hell out of my classroom for good.”

You were stunned—not only by the fact that you’d be forced into proximity Eddie Munson for the rest of the year, but the fact that Ms Taylor would speak so candidly about a student.

“I—I-“ you tried to articulate what to say next, but found you were unable to gather your thoughts.

“I can’t,” you finally managed, dumbly. Ms Taylor raised a thin eyebrow at you.

“Well,” she said. “It seems that unless you want to repeat your senior year, you don’t have much of a choice.”

“But, Ms Taylor, I—“

“Look,” she sighed your name. “You’re a smart girl. Mr Munson may be… a handful, but I promise he’s harmless. You will be fine. You can even meet on the school premises, if you’d feel better about that.”

Dear Lord, you didn’t know how to tell her that the reason why you couldn’t tutor him was not because of his reputation, or that you were scared of him, it was because you could barely form a coherent thought in his presence.

“Are we clear?” She asked, arms crossed. You tried to speak, but your mouth was dry. You just gulped and nodded.

“Good,” she smiled tightly. You sighed, turning to leave, already knowing you’d be late to your next class. She called your name as you began to exit, your hand on the door handle.

“Just know, I will be checking weekly with Mr Munson to see how tutoring is going. So don’t think that if you fail to show up I won’t know.”

You nodded, shutting the door behind you as you left.

Great. No escaping it. What if you embarrassed yourself? What if he really did hate you? What if—

“Hey.”

You jumped, too caught up in your thoughts to even notice the tall, lanky figure leaning up against the lockers next to Ms Taylor’s classroom.

“Jesus, sorry.” Eddie looked at you with wide eyes, an arm coming to steady you on your shoulder. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

When you just stared at him, he cleared his throat, removing his hand from your shoulder. A part of you mourned the loss.

“So, uh,” he began, looking down at his feet as he walked alongside you. You tried not to notice the faint scent of his cologne that sent a thrill through your gut. “So I guess she told you? About the tutoring?”

When his curly head snapped up to meet your eyes, you quickly faced forward, realizing that you’d been ogling his side profile while he was stumbling over his words. You nodded in confirmation.

“Ok,” he said, rubbing his hands on his legs. “Ok,” he repeated, stopping and turning to face you. “I’m just gonna cut the bullshit: I really, really need the help in this class.” His eyes were a bit wild, panicked. Like he thought you were going to run away from him the moment you got a chance. “Like, ‘really,’ as in, if I don’t pass, I don’t graduate. And I know you really don’t wanna do this, and she’s forcing you, and that you hate me, and you’re scared of me, and all that, but if you could please—please— just help me get through this class, I will make it as painless as possible spending all the time with me.”

By the end of his little speech, he looked frantic, like he was pleading—and you suppose he was. And before you could stop yourself, you just nodded, looking at him dumbly, before remembering to speak.

“I’ll help you pass.” Was all you could manage.

He sighed a breath of relief, running a hand down his face.

“Thank you,” he said, and you could’ve sworn it was the most sincere you’d ever heard him. “Thursday after school in the library sound good?”

- - - -

You arrived early, because, of course you did.

To say you were nervous would be an understatement; you were terrified. Mostly of making an even bigger fool of yourself than you had earlier in the week.

You’d spent the better part of the last three days poring over your last interaction with Eddie in the hallway, when he’d begged you to tutor him, and you’d gotten about five words in edgewise.

He’d practically accused you of hating him, and instead of correcting him—like you’d been dying to do for the whole semester—you stood there like an idiot.

You wished you’d told him then and there in that hallway that he was wrong; that you weren’t scared of him, and that you didn’t hate him. That you were just shy and awkward and he unnerved you. So, you decided to do just that.

Last night, while finally talking through the whole situation with Robin, you’d decided that the first words you’d say to him would be: “I’m not scared of you and I don’t hate you.”

It was a bit abrasive and to-the-point, you knew that. But, you also knew that if you let him get a word in before that, you’d lose your nerve. At least this way, you got your point across.

Your eyes ran over the page of your book for what felt like the fiftieth time. You sighed, throwing the worn novel down on the table.

There was no way you’d be able to get any reading done, not with your nerves eating you alive.

The book wasn’t that good anyway. You had no clue what Robin meant when she said Hemingway was ‘profound.’

You sighed again, eyes finding the clock in the library.

He was five minutes late.

You felt something deflate inside you. Maybe he’d been bluffing about the whole thing, or maybe he’d changed his mind and wouldn’t show. Your mind ran with the possibilities.

The library was sparse at this time.

It was just past three, and most students had already rushed out of the building. It was Thursday, which meant that the town was just waking up for the weekend. It wasn’t uncommon for friend groups to have small get-togethers, or even for one of the bigger cliques to throw a party.

In fact, Steve had managed to convince Robin and yourself to attend one later that night. Which was a feat, because you didn’t make a habit of going out.

It was at Darren’s house: one of the few friends from high school that Steve actually kept up with after, y’know, everything.

Robin was hoping Vicky would be there. You were just hoping to let loose a little.

With all this business with Eddie and your impending (maybe) graduation, your nerves had been through the roof. A party was just what you needed to calm down.

“Sorry,” he appeared out of nowhere, and before you could stop yourself, you jumped.

“Sorry!” Eddie rushed out, slumping down in the chair across from you. “Really, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to scare you all the time. Sorry I’m late.”

You stared at him.

God, he was pretty.

His hair was big and frizzy, per usual, and fell around his face as a halo. His brown eyes were wide and almost doe -like, and his cheeks were rosy with exertion.

He must have been running, you thought. But why? He wasn’t that late.

“Were you running?” You blurted before you could think. Your brows furrowed as you looked at him.

“Uhhhh, yeah,” he drawled. “Yeah, I ran into some trouble getting here.”

“What trouble?”

“The usual.” Eddie rubbed his eyes, and for the first time since he’d sat down, you noticed how disheveled he looked.

His white tee shirt was stained on the shoulder with what looked like… fruit?

“Is that… food on your shoulder?”

“Shit,” his gaze snapped to his shoulder. “Yeah, uhm. It’s jello.”

Eddie looked… embarrassed. For the first time in the time you’d known him, he looked sheepish.

“Was it Jason?”

“That obvious?” He laughed mirthlessly. In fact, it was a little menacing.

“He’s a dick.” You said without thinking.

Eddie just nodded, staring down a place on the table.

“Are you okay?”

He looked at you, dark eyes guarded.

He seemed to be sizing you up, eyes following you up and down. But his usual playfulness was gone. Instead, he looked almost… forlorn.

“Uh, yeah.” His lips lifted into a humorless smile. “Just done with this bullshit, I guess.”

“Hmm,” you hummed.

“I’m tired of people looking at me like I’m a freak. I’m tired of not behind able to fucking walk to class in peace, I’m tired of people being fucking,” he slammed his hands on the table in front of you. When you jump, he throws them up. “Scared of me!”

You stay silent for a moment, letting him stew and collect himself. After a few seconds, Eddie sighs.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t—“

“I’m not scared of you, and I don’t hate you.”

“—mean to—what?”

“I’m not scared of you.” You repeated, wiping your clammy hands on your jeans. “And I don’t hate you, like you said on Monday. I’m Im just,” you stopped to take a breath. “It’s just hard for me sometimes. With… new people.”

“You sure? Because you look scared to me.”

“You aren’t helping.”

Eddie shivered, rubbing at the jello-colored stain on his shoulder.

“Do you… want to change?” You asked shakily.

“What?”

“Nevermind,” you rushed out, shaking your head. “It’s nothing. You just—looked cold. I have an extra sweatshirt.”

“And you think it would fit me?”

“I like to wear them a few sizes too big.” You added lamely.

Eddie contemplated you for a moment, before sighing.

“What the hell,” he said half to himself. “Why not?”

After he pulled the lilac crew neck over his head, he smiled.

“Okay,” he chuckled. “I’m sorry. Thank you for doing this. I know it can’t be great for your…image.”

You snorted at that.

“Yeah, my image isn’t exactly suffering.”

“Yeah?” He leaned forward, setting his chin on his fists.

God, his forearms. You forced yourself to look away.

“Yeah. Not exactly prom queen here.”

“Eh, prom queen is overrated.”

You laughed, your own crinkling eyes meeting his. You thought you saw his eyes soften as they looked at you. The vision of him there, in front of you, made your stomach flip.

You cleared your throat, turning to your notes in front of you.

“So,” you straightened your notebook. “Ready to talk about T. S. Elliot?”

- - - -

The party was loud. Mötley Crüe boomed through the speakers that Darren’s rich family had in what seemed like every room.

You silently thanked Darren for having good music taste. The party would have been unbearable otherwise.

You sighed as you walked out the back door of the house. The inside had gotten a bit too stuffy for you, and with Robin trailing after Vickie and Steve reconnecting with one of his old flames, you were flying solo for the time being.

You brushed your jeans with your hands before sitting down on the back step, a lukewarm rum and coke in the solo cup in your hand.

You felt yourself deflate.

As a senior in high school, this was the closest you’d come to actually living.

While Robin had had her fair share of secret flings and parties and Steve had lived a wild four years of high school, you were just… there.

At eighteen years old, you felt like you’d missed out. Been robbed. The Upside Down had something to do with that, you supposed. Fighting for your own and the kids’ lives from Russians and other-worldly demon creatures tends to do that. Still, it didn’t stop your friends from living. You felt like you’d let your teen years pass you by, but mostly, you felt pathetic.

Sure, you had the grades, but rather than that? You had nothing to show for your time at Hawkins High.

“Hey tutor,” the smooth drawl came from the side of the house. You’d know it anywhere.

Eddie rounded the corner of the house, approaching where you were sitting on the back step.

He wore the same black jeans he wore earlier today, but his jello-stained shirt and your lilac crew neck were gone, replaced by a t-shirt with what looked like Judas Priest’s logo. His arms were crossed over his chest, covered by the black leather he wore more often than not.

“Hey,” you offered lamely, rubbing your hands together.

“What ya doing out here all alone?” He came to stop in front of you, his chunky combat boots taking up your line of vision.

“Just…taking a breather.” You smiled up at him, tight-lipped.

“Hmm,” he hummed. “Scoot over, then. It’s a little too… preppy for me in there.”

You obliged, scooting over a few feet so he could sit next to you. As he dropped down on the concrete step next to you, he was close enough that you caught his scent.

It was deep, some kind of cologne, mixed with cigarette smoke and a hint of what you knew was weed.

“So…” Eddie bumped his shoulder into yours. “Thought this wasn’t your crowd?”

“It’s not,” you pressed your hands between your knees. “Robin and Steve dragged me here. I thought it would help me… unwind.”

“Robin… she’s in band right?”

You nodded.

“And Steve… I don’t think I know that one.”

You chuckled.

“You definitely do,” you peeked over at him, eager to see his reaction. “Uh, Steve Harrington?”

Eddie looked at you like you grew a second head.

“The hair?” He asked incredulously.

“The very same,” you nodded.

“God, sweetheart.” Eddie shook his head. “I’m beginning to question the company you keep.”

Your heart leapt at what he called you. Sweetheart.

“I know, I know,” you held out your hands. “He was an asshole. But he’s different now.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“He is!” You turned to Eddie defensively. “I wouldn’t be friends with him if he was still the way he used to be. He isn’t like…”

“Jason?” Eddie raised an eyebrow at you. “Like Pam and Diana?”

“Exactly.” You nodded. “He’s still… peppy. He just lost all the bad parts.”

“Hmm,” he crossed his arms. “I’ll take your word for it.”

A moment of silence passed between the two of you, the only sounds being your breath and the roar of the party inside. Your breaths swirled in the chilly air around you.

“Why are you here?” You spoke finally. “You said this wasn’t your scene.”

“It’s not,” he shrugged, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a little baggy filled with green substance. “I’m, uh, supplying the party favors.”

You snorted at that.

“These things good business?”

“You have no idea.” He nodded to the inside of the house. “A lot of these kids’ allowance is more than what my uncle makes in a week.”

You hummed, content to just sit in silence.

Eddie tilted his head at you, leaning his chin on his hands again like he did earlier in the library. He tilted his cheek toward you, an easy smile on his lips.

“So, why are you really out here, tutor-girl?” He looked at you curiously. “You look upset.”

You drew a heavy breath, before sighing.

“It’s dumb.” You picked at your nails.

“Try me.”

“I feel like..” you looked up, before turning to Eddie. “I feel like I’ve missed out. I’m a senior, I’m graduating this year, and I have done nothing.”

Eddie’s eyebrows furrow, but he doesn’t move to interrupt you. He only leans further toward you, spurring you to continue. The alcohol gave you the rest of the confidence you lacked.

“All my friends have had their little rebellions. Their flings, all of it. And I have done nothing, except drink shitty booze and nearly lose my mind.”

You blew a deep breath once you’d finished. Somehow, you felt even worse—more pathetic—now that you’d vocalized it.

But Eddie didn’t look at you like you were pathetic. Instead, he looked pensive, hand on his chin as he contemplated. It was your instinct to backtrack.

You moved to stand

“Sorry. That was a lot. Nevermind. Let’s just forget I—“

“No, no, don’t apologize.” He grabbed your arm and gently pulled you back to sit beside him. “Especially after what I dumped on you earlier.”

Your cheeks were red, you could tell. Whether that be because of the combination of the alcohol and the confession, you couldn’t tell.

“Hmm,” Eddie hummed, still thinking. You snuck a glance over at him and noticed a wry smile on his face. “Let’s fix it then.”

“What?”

“We have til May, don’t we? That’s eight months. Your senior year isn’t over yet.”

You laughed nervously.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that—“

“You’re not! I’m offering. Consider it payback for all the hours you’ll be tutoring me in Taylor’s class.”

“Okay…”

“Okay.” Eddie smiled. “It’s a deal, then .”

#eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie stranger things #eddie x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things 4 #stranger things #steve harrington #robin buckley #hawkins indiana #eddie munson fem!reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction

[luveline]

wait hear me out.. bodyguard!sirius au 🫣

for you my love (new au let’s goooo) | fem!reader ♥︎ 1.2k

Sirius Black is possibly the worst person in the world they could've chosen to assign as your bodyguard. He's an excellent bodyguard, has proven this swiftly and with finesse on two separate occasions, and still, you struggle to settle under his watch. 

He's terrifying. Not because he's a bodyguard, though the lean muscle of his naked arms is intimidating, and he's very tall, but because he's beautiful. Silken black hair that he keeps tied up in a small half-bun behind his neck frames an angular face. He has dark, sweet eyelashes that point straight, and similarly dark brows that seem permanently arched in bemusement. 

You feel on pins under his gaze at all times, desperate for him to think the same. Desperate to be beautiful in that same effortless manner. 

"Relax," he chides, a hand curled firmly over your bare shoulder. 

You don't deny you're tense. He should know by now that you're more often than not in a panic, like your body's made up of frayed nerves. 

"Can't we go home?" you ask. 

"Afraid not, sweetness." 

You watch your mother move across the stage where she's hosting and sigh. "I hate politics." 

He laughs. "No, you hate your mother. Politics are important." 

"My mother's politics have never once been important," you say. "She should campaign against things that are actually important. Like rising austerity, or the mistreatment of homeless people." 

"Now, don't say that," he drawls, his breath warm against your ear. "Think of all those poor pigeons she's saving tonight." 

"It's absurd." 

Sirius hums. "While I don't think your mother's on the wrong side of things, I agree that her campaign is ridiculous. Every new ordinance puts you at risk." 

Your mother's political career is a drop in the ocean, but a couple of months ago she'd managed to draw the attention of one alt-right group in particular. A letter threatening your life had arrived in the mail, and Sirius has been by your side pretty much ever since. You do wish, selfishly, that she would stop this. You're an adult, and you've less privacy than a child now that you're constantly supervised. 

"Sometimes, I think she loves pigeons more than me," you mumble. 

Sirius laughs, delighted by your joke, and pats your shoulder. His hand burns your skin, you swear. You're gonna look down and see his handprint branded into you. 

"You're much prettier than a pigeon, doll. I'd choose you." 

Why is his hand on your shoulder? You can't remember. He'd been moving you out of the way, maybe, and forgotten to take it back. You hate that he's touching you, worried he can feel the capering beat of your heart, but you prefer him behind you than in front. He can't see your face, you can't see his. 

Like he can read your mind and he hates you, he turns you to face him. 

"Shall we go outside for a bit?" he asks. 

You blink. Sirius doesn't usually ask you if you want to do things. He may work for your mother but you're still the boss (kind of). He tries to let you do whatever it is you want to do. 

"Okay," you say. 

He leads you out to the patio with a hand just barely touching your back. Outside, the summer night air is warm, and the sky is a wash of pinks and yellow. It's oddly quiet.

You creep curiously to the stone railing and look down over a perfectly manicured garden, hedges shaped like flamingos and a mosaic veranda surrounding the centrepiece, a marble fountain in the shape of a baby. Rich people spend their money on the damndest things.

"I was hoping you'd feel more comfortable out here." 

You sigh as he comes to stand beside you. No hopes of that when he's near.

"But you're tense everywhere we go," he adds. 

"'M just tired," you say. 

"Are you?" He leans against the railing on his elbows and doesn't look at you. Sirius takes such big gaps between speaking that sometimes you assume he's done. "I have a theory." 

You stretch your hands out over the railing, more than enough space between you both. The stone is like pumice, gritty and pocked full of holes. It scratches your palms. 

"I think," —he turns his face to yours, expression disarmingly impassive— "I make you nervous." 

You think? 

You catch your own smile too late. Sirius sees it too, and his eyes crease as he squints at you mildly. His eyelashes, those dark thickets, meet in the corners. You stare at them, your gaze skipping over his light irises, his unusually large pupils. 

He looks rather cat-like. 

"I do," he says. 

"I– Yeah. Yeah, you make me nervous. Your presence is a reminder, you know, that I'm not safe." 

"Ah, but that's not true. You're very safe with me, pretty girl. Haven't I proved that already?" He smirks at you. "No, you're nervous, and it isn't because of my job." 

Sirius moves almost lazily. His head tips to one side, a short curl fluttering against his cheek. 

"So what is it?" 

How do you explain it? He's gorgeous, and his good looks paired with his smooth demeanour leaves you off kilter. You don't mean to be so weird, but your lips move of their own accord. 

"Do you think I'm pretty?" you ask him, insecurity much too obvious in your tone. 

The smugness he'd been entertaining drains. He stands a little straighter. 

"Sorry," you say, cringing. "You don't have to answer, I know it's a loaded question. Uh, I think that's why you make me so nervous, is all. You're really handsome, and I've never been anything special, mum always says it’s a shame they haven’t found a more natural alternative to plastic surgery–“

“What?”

You snap out of your tangent, flushed with heat. “Sorry.”

“Your mum thinks you need plastic surgery?”

“No, but. You know, we’re on TV sometimes, she wants us to look perfect.”

“You are perfect.”

You shrink at his sharp tone, but you realise that it isn’t you he’s directing his anger at. It takes a moment for his statement to sink in, and when it does, you can’t not smile. You cover your mouth to hide it unconsciously. 

Sirius doesn’t back down from his declaration, though the anger melts from his expression, leaving behind a chest-pounding earnestness. 

“Yes, I think you’re pretty. If that’s what you’re worried about, please. Don’t be.”

Speechless, you nod jerkily, as if a puppeteer controls your movements. Applause sounds loudly from the open patio doors, and Sirius straightens up fully. 

“Best go back in, angel. She’ll want pictures.”

Again, you can’t find the words to answer him. His anger at the idea that someone might find you unattractive sloshes around in your head. You're surprised you don’t tip over. Luckily, you have a guiding hand on your shoulder to lead you back inside. 

“Perfect pictures,” he says quietly. 

#sirius x you #sirius orion black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius x reader fluff #sirius black imagine #marauders era #marauders #sirius black drabble #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fanfiction #the marauders #bodyguard!sirius black #bodyguard!sirius #sirius black blurb #sirius black

[softshrimpy]

How To Woo A Hot Principal

Chapter 1/?: Step 1- Shameless Flirting

Summary: Working at the weathervane was exactly what you needed. The routine, the people, your co-worked. It certainly helped that a certain tall, blonde, fucking gorgeous woman happened to frequent the cafe. Now some may call hopelessly flirting with your customers inappropriate behavior.

But truly, when it came it Larissa Weems, who could blame you?

I’m just in love with Larissa Weems and a silly bitch. I hope you enjoy ✨🦐

Chapter 2

Cross posted to AO3 Here

HTWAHP Masterlist

——————————————————————————

“Just because I like older women does not mean I’m a homewrecker.”

“Huh, interesting.”

“You’re telling me you’ve known me for three months now and this whole time you thought I was out here waiting to ruin a marriage?”

“In my defence-“

“I can’t believe this, I thought we were friends Kingston. Now I have to rethink everything.” You sighed, dramatically.

“You’re the most dramatic person I’ve ever met.” He chuckles.

You slap him with your cloth, scoffing at his comment before going back to cleaning the coffee machine.

You had been in Jericho for a total of three and a half months. It was a quaint little town, a bit hyper-focused on their pilgrim ancestry but not the worst small town you’d experienced. You had been working at the Weathervane since you’d arrived, enjoying the routine it provided and the socializing. That was where you had met James Kingston (A British man disguised as a regular person in your professional opinion. I mean what kind of name is James Kingston anyway?). The two of you had become fast friends, partly due to the work you did and partly because he found you hilarious and you found him tolerable. (this is a lie, you love him dearly.)

Working as a barista meant you got to know most of the residents of Jericho quite quickly. Some you found infinitely more interesting than others.

“Oh look its your lady crush.” James comments, wheezing when you whip around from what you were doing to stare out the window.

“Shut up, I just- I respect a woman in power that’s all.”

“Oh I’m sure its all respect in that filthy brain of yours when you think of her.”

“Fuck off.” You laughed, hurrying to the register when you saw her coming through the door.

“Good morning miss Weems.” You greeted, doing your best to shut your heart up and give her a relatively normal smile.

“How many times have I told you to call me Larissa darling.” She smiles, much to the chagrin of your heart-calming plans.

“She’s a bit slow this one.” James jokes, earning him a swift kick on the shin.

“Your usual, Larissa?” You ask.

She nods, chuckling at the two of you before moving to sit at one of the booths. Larissa came around often enough, usually in the mornings, you assumed before the academy day officially started. Sometimes she’d come around after dropping one of the students at Dr Kinbotts. You lived for the times she stopped by, almost always kicking James off the register if he was stationed there just to talk to her. So yes, you had a massive crush on the woman. But honestly? Who could blame you? She was a goddess among you mere mortals and you were simply relishing in her heavenly presence when you could.

Christ, you were a useless gay.

You finished making her usual, quickly doodling a small flower next to her name before taking it to her. You place it down on the table with a flourish, bowing dramatically.

“Your coffee my fair lady.”

She chuckles, shaking her head at your antics before standing, coffee in hand.

“Thank you, y/n. You always make my mornings delightful.” She hums, squeezing your arm as she leaves.

You watch as she goes, a dreamy smile on your face, before proudly strutting back behind the counter. James giggles at you earning him yet another smack with the towel.

The rest of your day is pretty mundane. Dr Kinbott stops by at around 12 for her usual. The sheriff comes around and gets an Americano to go (You suspect he’s actually just checking on Tyler.) Throughout the day you’re giddy thanks to Larissa. You often find yourself daydreaming about what it would be like to see her more often. You think perhaps you might actually implode if she were to ever have more than a two-minute conversation with you. You finish up the day with Tyler, letting him leave before closing up. All in all, a regular day in Jericho.

You were working your regular Saturday shift when Larissa arrived, looking rather upset. She placed her order and sat down at a booth, pulling out her laptop and getting to work. You made sure to put a little extra sugar in her coffee and grabbed one of the choc chip cookies before bringing it to her. You placed it down on her table, earning a mumbled thanks as she picked up the coffee. It took her a moment to notice the cookie, but when she did she glanced up at you questioningly.

“It’s on the house. You look like you’re having a shitty day so I thought you could use a little something to make your day a bit better.” You smiled, clasping your hands behind your back.

“You really are too kind to me,” she mumbled, taking a sip of her coffee.

“Pffft, Nah. You deserve it.” You brushed her off. You took a moment before speaking again. “I know we don’t know each other that well but uh if you want to talk I’m here. And I can give brilliant commentary, no advice though, I’d probably encourage murder or something equally illegal.”

She laughs, covering her mouth with her hand. You think her laugh might be one of your favourite sounds.

“That’s very sweet, but aren’t you busy with your work?” she asks.

At that, you throw your apron off and over your shoulder and sit down across from her.

“Galpin’s pretty competent, plus he owes me one anyway. So spill.”

She considers you for a moment, before heaving a sigh.

“The academy is receiving a new student next week.” She starts. “Which under usual circumstances would be fantastic, however, this student happens to be the daughter of… an ex-paramour of mine.” She mumbles, almost drawing in on herself.

“Did they do something awful that made you break up with them?” you ask.

“No actually, uh she broke up with me…for the man that is now her husband.”

You stare at her for a moment, mouth agape.

“You’re telling me someone chose to walk away from you? But you’re- I mean you’re gorgeous and smart and- was she blind?? Was she dumb?? I mean obviously, she was but… what.”

She chuckles at your outburst, cheeks flushing slightly.

“Yes, well, they seem very happy together. And I’m sure she’ll rub that in my face in some offhand way. And she’ll make jokes about me marrying my job because ‘no one else would want me’ which I-I mean it’s not- that’s not why I’m so devoted to the school!”

“She sounds like a bitch.” You comment, “I can throw hot coffee at her if that’ll make you feel better?”

“You’re very sweet but that’s assault darling.”

“I’d literally kill a man for you no questions asked, assault is nothing.”

She chuckles, swatting at your arm before sighing again and dropping her head into her hands.

“Well, look, I don’t know who your ex is, the stupid bitch, but you have become a talented, successful, absolutely gorgeous woman. So, no matter what happened between you or what she does whenever you see her, know that she’s just a jealous, silly old hag who could never be half as brilliant as you are.”

She stares at you at that, her eyes bright. You wait for her to say something, feeling yourself get more nervous the longer she stays silent. You play with your fingers, thinking perhaps you went too far and have now fucked any and all chances of having even a friendship with this gorgeous woman.

You stand up, pull your apron back on and do your best not to overthink every word you’ve said.

“Uhm, sorry, have-have a great day Larissa.” You mumble turning to walk away.

Suddenly she grabs your wrist, stopping you and turning you around. She stands up, towering over you. She looks down at you, a dazzling smile on her face. And then, by the gods, she bends down and presses a kiss to your cheek, and hot fucking damn you almost spontaneously combust on the spot. You stare up at her, awestruck and definitely blushing madly.

“Thank you, y/n” she smiles. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

And with that, she squeezes your wrist, giving you a dazzling smile and leasing the coffee shop. You watch after her like a lovesick puppy, heart racing.

You’re absolutely whipped for this woman.

Larissa didn’t come around for the next few days. But you knew she was a busy woman, she had things to do. You definitely weren’t considering changing your name and fleeing the country thinking she now didn’t want to see your face again after what you said and her thanking you was just because she felt awkward. Definitely not.

You found yourself glancing out the window every five minutes or perking up whenever the bell above the door would ring, only to deflate when it wasn’t Larissa walking in. You were busy wiping down one of the tables when James appeared at your side.

“My bestie in Christ, you know I love you, but you currently look like an abandoned puppy.”

“I do not,” you scoff.

“Sure, sure... Oh hey, Larissa!”

You whip around faster than you’ve ever moved in your life, coming face to face with an empty doorway. You scowl as you hear James wheeze next to you.

“Don’t forget we work with hot coffee. And accidents happen, Kingston.”

He laughs at your threat, patting your shoulder as he heads back to the counter. You continue working for a while before James pipes up again.

“Oh damn. Good morning miss Weems.”

“That’s it, give me the boiling water I’m giving you the wicked witch of the west treatment.”

“Now why would you be burning your friend at the mention of my name?” a velvet voice speaks from behind you.

You spin around on the spot, gaping at the woman behind you. There she stands, all tall and gorgeous and dreamy. You feel yourself blushing as you try to stand straighter and lean on the table you were cleaning. Unfortunately, you did such a great job that you slip and all but fall on your ass. You’re tempted once again to throw boiling water on James as he cackles at you. Larissa, the kind goddess she is, rushes over and offers you a hand.

When she pulls you up you realize you greatly underestimated how close she would be as you’re now toe to toe with her, staring up at her, cheeks aflame. She smiles down at you, her hand still holding yours as her other arm settles on your waist. You’re barely breathing at this point and then she has the audacity to flash you the cutest smile.

You take your chance to take her in up close, knowing you’ll probably never get this close to the goddess ever again. You notice the crow’s feet at the edge of her eyes and the slight bags under them she tried to hide with makeup. You also notice she smells absolutely fucking divine, you can’t quite pinpoint what it is but it suits her so well. You know you’re staring and you should stop, but you can’t help it.

“You should be more careful, sweetheart.” She murmurs, her eyes sparkling. “I wouldn’t want my favourite barista getting hurt.”

You’re still gaping at her, your brain turned to mush at the way she spoke, low and velvety. You open your mouth to speak but can’t seem to find anything clever to say, for once. Something she takes full advantage of.

“What’s wrong darling? Cat got your tongue?” she whispers, and oh god is she getting closer? She looks closer.

You’re startled back into the waking world when James accidentally drops something, the loud clanging making you jump back from the woman in front of you, heart racing and body flushed. Larissa drops her hands from their hold on you, stepping back slightly. You internally whimper at the loss of her touch and then immediately internally scold yourself for being so uselessly gay.

“So uh, how-how has everything been? I haven’t uh seen you around lately.” You commented, sliding behind the counter and getting started on her drink.

“It’s certainly been an eventful few days, to say the least.“ she sighed, leaning onto the counter.

“Well, you were dearly missed at our humble café.” You remark, placing her drink in front of her.

She chuckles at that taking a sip of her drink before letting out a relaxed sigh.

“God I could’ve used this yesterday.”

“The drink or my riveting conversation?” you joke.

“Perhaps both.” She hums.

“Well, I mean we could always deliver to your office on the days you can’t get here.” James offers, grinning at you.

“Oh no, I wouldn’t want to cause any trouble-” Larissa starts.

“It wouldn’t be any trouble at all. Isn’t that right?” he comments elbowing you suggestively.

“Oh! No of course it would- I would be honoured- I mean it would be my pleasure Larissa really.” You manage, giddy at the prospect of delivering her coffee every day.

“Really you don’t have to go through any extra fuss for me we have coffee at Nevermore so I-“

“You’re worth the fuss though.” You say, and then immediately want to shoot yourself for speaking aloud.

Silence falls between the three of you, Larissa looking shocked, James at a loss and you mentally preparing what to put on your tombstone. It’s a while before Larissa speaks.

“Well, when you put it like that how can I say no hm?”

“So, I get to deliver you coffee every day?” you grin, tapping the counter a few times in excitement.

“If that’s what you want, sweetheart. You can bring it to my office, I’ll expect you before nine.” She hums, turning to leave.

“Yes ma’am! I won’t let you down” you respond, giving her a mock salute.

She chuckles, waving at you and waits a fucking second did she just fucking wink at you?? Oh, Jesus on skates your life just keeps getting better and better. As soon as she’s outside and gone from view you all but squeal, throwing yourself at James.

#wlw #larissa weems #principal weems #wednesday #larissa weems x reader #principal weems x reader #larissa weems x you #HTWAHP

[simplyholl]

Out of My System Pt 6

Summary: Loki doesn't understand Thor's attraction to Midgardians. Until he meets you.

Pairing: Avenger Loki x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. 18+ ONLY. Minors DNI.

W/C: 915

Out of My System Masterlist

The hot days of summer turned into the cool nights of autumn. Your hookup with Loki was on constant replay in your mind. Even though months had passed, you would never get over it. You’ll never forget how it felt to be tangled in the sheets with him. Bodies entwined like an intricate puzzle. How his fingers grasped you like he never wanted to let you go. How he called your name in those moments of ecstasy.

It was silly, but you felt special because you were the first and only Midgardian he slept with. He was actually brilliant to not sleep around. Loki slung dick like it was his job, and rent was due. You had no doubt that the people of Earth would lose their minds trying to bed him, if they ever learned of his talents. His fans were wild without that knowledge. You had seen the comments on his posts.

Things weren’t awkward between you, and for that you were thankful. It was almost like it never happened. If you hadn’t memorized every mark he left on your body, you would think it was all an erotic dream your horny mind conjured.

Tonight is Tony and Pepper’s wedding. You, Wanda, and Natasha are bridesmaids. You shimmy into the dress, beyond grateful that Pepper chose an elegant, sleek style over the one her mother favored. You were looking forward to the reception. It was going to be the party of the year. You text Rhodey to remind him he needed to make sure Tony didn’t bring an Iron Man suit with him.

The reception started off with a bang, literally. Fireworks lit up the night sky, loud music boomed through the speakers. Ben asked you to dance when the next slow song came on. You let him lead you to the dance floor. You had been seeing him casually, and he was more than happy to be your booty call.

He was a great guy, you just wished you liked him more. You often wondered if something was wrong with you because you didn’t. You couldn’t help that the only man you would ever have feelings for, would never return them. You didn’t mean to, but you found yourself comparing Ben to Loki.

How he spoke, the way he dressed, how it felt when he kissed you. The worst was while you were hooking up. Your mind always went to how it felt when you were with Loki. It was like you were made to fit together. It didn’t feel like that with Ben.

He holds you closer as the song’s chorus echoes over the crowd. You’re startled when you hear Loki’s voice. “May I cut in?” He asks Ben. His large hand rests on Ben’s shoulder. He looks up at the god who hovers over him. He immediately releases you, letting Loki take his place.

Loki tugs you toward him. “You look beautiful tonight.” he tells you, guiding you through the dance. You glide around the dance floor enjoying being this close to him again. You look at his mouth, thinking of how his lips were now intimately familiar with your body.

You lift your eyes, noticing that he’s doing the same. “I shouldn’t be thinking of you as often as I do.” he confesses. You sigh, “Loki, you can’t say that to me. It was a one time thing, remember?” Loki curses himself for not giving into you sooner.

He doesn’t believe in love. But he’s terrified of falling for you. His heart almost stops beating at the realization that he already had. You consumed his every thought. It was more than just desire. He craved your company. He needed to be around you.

“I shouldn’t have said that. I should have known it would be more with you.” You listen intently, letting his confession sink in. “I’m in love with you. I think I always have been.” You press your lips to his excitedly. “I’m so in love with you Loki.” You tell him in between kisses. You hear a throat clear, realizing the music had faded out, and the intro to the next song was really quiet.

You glance around, and all eyes are on you. “Let’s go!” You take his hand, leading him to the bathroom. You can’t keep your hands off each other. He pins you to the wall with his body. “Do you know how out of control you make me feel?” he pants in your ear.

You throw your arms around his neck, holding on as his fingers dip into your panties. He runs his finger through your folds, feeling how turned on you are already. “All this for me?” He smirks, lifting his finger to his lips. “Only for you.” You confirm.

He unbuttons his pants, hard cock jutting out. You help him by lifting your dress up your thighs. He slides your panties to the side. You gasp when he enters you, stretching you deliciously. His tongue starts at your collarbone, licking a trail to your jaw. “I’ve missed being inside of you.”

~The next week~

Loki and Thor were being sent away on a mission. They would be gone for a few weeks. Your heart ached. You just got him, and now he would be off fighting without you. You’re sitting on Loki’s kitchen counter with him standing between your legs. You pull him to you, placing kisses all over his face.

Thor barges in, telling Loki it’s time to go. You wish you had five more minutes with your new boyfriend. Loki kisses you goodbye, rubbing his nose against yours. “I don’t want to leave you.” he whispers. You know Thor heard him when he smiles knowingly, looking between the two of you.

Part Seven

Tags (cont. in comments)

@fictive-sl0th @lokisgoodgirl @lokidbadguy @ozymdias @cindylynn @potter-puff007 @cakesandtom @eleniblue @muddyorbsblr @marygoddessofmischief @coldnique @mochie85 @goblingirlsarah @lokisninerealms @wheredafandomat @peaches1958 @freegardenbanananeck @chantsdemarins @lokidokieokie @anukulee @sheris532 @lokixryss @multifandom-worlds @javagirl328 @assemblingavenger @lilibet261 @lemonadygirl @joyofbebbanburg @bellajg21 @ladymischief11 @kats72 @evelyn-rathmore @innebulae @alexakeyloveloki @princess-ofthe-pages @xorpsbane @itssomeonereading @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @navs-bhat @fire-in-her-veinz @crimson25 @darkserenity24 @mischief2sarawr @nikkig496-blog @buttercupcookies-blog

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki smut #loki #loki x yn #loki x reader smut #loki x yn smut #loki fanfic #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki marvel #loki tom hiddleston #out of my system

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unexpected 44

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, pegging, Lloyd being the worst, post partum, csection, suicidial ideation, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The smell of popcorn is like home. You don’t really have one of those. No, you just exist in Lloyd’s space, occupy the role he’s assigned to you, the one he’s abandoned you to. But that buttery aroma, the salty taste, is familiar and longlost. You can’t remember the last time you were in a theatre, or the last time you were excited.

You are. You are almost ecstatic to be there. To be away from the house for a few more hours. You lead Andy down the aisle and find your row, following the curve to your numbered seats. As you glance over at him and sit in the cushiony leather chair, you almost forget about everything outside the dark theatre.

For an instant, you could pretend you’re on a date with a cute guy. Again, when was the last time that happened? When was the last time Colin took you out? You always planned date nights and it was like dragging a cat to the bathtub. And Lloyd, those weren’t dates, those were humiliation. This isn’t a date either.

You balance your bag of popcorn in your lap and place your cup in the holder set into the leather arm. You feel along the chair and find the button, reclining halfway as you get comfortable. Andy bends his arm over the shared arm rest, picking at his popcorn as the previews begin.

“This is nice,” he whispers. You don’t know why he is, the place is empty. It’s a midday matinee in the middle of the week.

“Yeah,” you agree, “I miss movies.”

“Oh yeah? I prefer the drive-in,” he leans over a little closer, “used to pack up the car, a cooler of drinks and snacks, and take the whole family…” he sighs wistfully, “it was fun. I miss it.”

You’re quiet. Unsure how to answer, you pop a few kernels in your mouth and chew. You swallow and feel a pang, the most you’ve felt in at least a month.

“I’m sorry, Andy…”

“Don’t be. Please. I was lucky, I got good years out of it and I hold onto them,” he rolls a piece of popcorn between his fingers and drops it back with the rest, “not everyone is lucky enough to have that even.”

You feel as if he’s talking about you. It isn’t a surprise. You haven’t been subtle. You’re miserable and Lloyd’s presence screams in everyone’s face. You’re as good as a single mother.

“I’m sure Lloyd will show up soon,” Andy says, “how could he not? With a wife and daughter waiting on him. No man could resist.”

“Please,” you scoff, “I don’t wanna think about it. I want to just forget for a little bit.”

“Yeah, I know what that feels like too,” he sits back, “deal. We’re not us for the next two hours. We’re just two friends enjoying a movie.”

“That sounds amazing,” you breathe and grab another handful of popcorn, “wish we could stay forever.”

🧸

Twenty minutes in, you roll up the top of the mostly empty bag. You set it to one side of your seat and lean back against the leather chair. You yawn as you try to focus on the plot of the movie. You didn’t see the original so it’s all new to you.

You shift around, trying to get comfortable as you feel a tingle around your eyes. You’re tired and the darkness isn’t help. You lean on one elbow and yawn again. You cradle your head as you focus on the actors, trying to lose yourself in the world of cinema.

You don’t know when it happens, there’s a scene on a train, and then the world is gray. You slump over and doze off, falling into a swirl of reams, a mesh of your reality and the movie. The thrumming soundtrack seeps through but doesn’t break your slumber.

You wake only as a sudden boom crack from the surround sound. Your eyes snap open as you find your head propped against a warm pillow. Your arm is slung across the leather as you hug Andy’s and your head is propped up just against his shoulder.

“Oh,” you pull away, “I’m so sorry.”

“Nah, don’t worry,” he chuckles, “you’re tired. It’s fine.”

“Yeah, I… I guess,” you rub your eyes and try to sit up.

“I don’t mind,” he insists and reaches across the armrest, rubbing your back, “you got a little one waiting to keep you up at home. Movie’s boring anyway.”

You look down and sniff. His touch is comforting even if unexpected. You slowly let yourself lean into him again and he wiggles to get closer on his side. You put your head on his shoulder again, “thanks.”

“No problem,” he says softly.

You sit like that for a while. Your eyes won’t close that time. You’re too aware of his heat, of his scent, of how nice it feels to have his hand just behind your hip. You watch the movie lazily beneath your lashes as his fingers move mindlessly along your side, a soothing up and down.

Your heart swells as your eyes haze. You’re so stupid. Don’t even think of it. You’re gross and old and ugly. He’s just being nice and you’re just desperate.

You tilt your head up to look at Andy. It takes him a moment before he returns your gaze, the blue hue of the screen limning his features. His brows draw together curiously. You raise yourself just a little and bring your hand up to feel the soft pelt of his beard. He shudders.

You press your lips to his. It’s electric and tinged with a sliver of instant regret. Before you can pull away, his hand travels up your back. He catches the back of your head with his other and keeps you angled awkwardly over the arm of the seat.

You give in. You let yourself fall into the moment. You forget about everything else and squeeze your eyes shut tight. You’re not a sad old divorce, you’re not a neglected wife, you’re that girl who used to make out in dark theatres until her head spun.

You drag your hand down his neck and feel the firm muscle of his chest. He rubs up and down your back, squeezing your side. You’re reminded of the extra weight but he doesn’t relent. You devour each other until your breathless.

When he finally lets you go, you sit back and stare forward. He does too. You languish in tense silence as the movie ends and the credits roll. It’s as if you’re both stunned.

“I’m married,” you utter grimly.

He nods and leans forward, elbows on his knees, “I know.”

“I have a child.”

“Know that too.”

“I’m broken.”

He’s quiet. He lets out a gritty exhale and clicks his tongue, “no, you’re not. The asshole left you, you’re hurt.”

“It doesn’t make it right.”

He sniffs and sits up, pushing his shoulders back, “did it feel wrong?”

The question hangs between you. You can’t answer him. You can’t bear to tell the truth but you know he felt it too. It’s not something magical like love, but it’s something simple and base. It’s loneliness and need. It’s two people abandoned in different ways, coming together in a carnal commiseration.

You slide to the front of the seat and stand, gathering up your trash. Andy does the same, not saying a word. This time, you trail him up the row and into the aisle. You catch up to him, walking parallel as you take the low steps towards the back of the theatre.

“We should go to the drive-in some time,” you suggest, “triple showing…”

He stops by the bin to dump his garbage, and takes yours to drop it in too. Then, he surprises you. He puts his arm over your shoulders and ushers you through the door, into the bright lights of the lobby. You feel the tension in him, rigid, almost quaking.

“You think Dottie will let you stay out past curfew?“ He goads.

“It won’t be the first time I’ve snuck out after dark,” you giggle.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #drabble #au #series #unexpected #the gray man #defending jacob

[shelbgrey]

So, I was wondering if it would be cool to request a Ray Stantz fic with either prompt 0.7 or 2.1?

Something strange(Ray Stantz)

Paring: Ray Stantz x Spangler!Reader

Summary: during a ghost bust ray gets possessed. This has never happened to any of them before and his girlfriend of just a few months may have to admit something she hasn't yet.

Prompt: 2.1) “i love you in every universe”

MasterList

It was late in the afternoon, Ray was working on the Ecto-1, music blasting. Between the booming sounds of the Beatles and the clinking of tools he didn't hear y/n sliding down the fire pole.

“Ray..” she said a little loud so Ray could hear her.

He didn't hear her and continued to tinker under the hood of the car.

“Raymond!” she shouted louder.

This time he heard the sudden noise startled him, making him smack his head on the inside of the hood when he heard a noise. “shi- HMmmm that hurt!” he mumbled, pulling away from the car.

She covered her mouth, trying not to sinker. “Sorry Honey, I didn't mean to scare you” she said, rubbing my boyfriend's head gently.

“Ah don’t sweat it Doll, and ya didn’t scare me too bad.” Ray pecked her on the cheek then turned back to the car, he pulled the keys out of his pocket and got behind the wheel. He turned the key, the car engine skipped and made sickly noises. “Dammit not again.” Ray sighed and got out of the car before slamming the door shut.

Y/n cringed at the sound Ecto-1 made. “So it's probably a bad time to say we just got a call to bust a class-5 ghost…”

Ray paused, throwing his head back in frustration. “Oh you’re kidding!”

“yeah… Peter wanted me to tell you and see how the car was doing”

Ray rubbed his forehead, frustrated. “Okay, don’t worry about the car… where was the sighting?”

“Just outside of the city... But if the car isn't working…”

“It’s alright babes, I'll get this old rust bucket runnin in 5! Just let me tinker with this a bit..” Ray took various pieces out, placing them on the hood, then he noticed a loose wire and chuckled. He quickly put the hood back on and the car roared to life, seemingly out of nowhere. “Damn I’m good.”

She smiled “okay, I'll tell the boys the car is runnin’”

“Good.. Hey do me a favor?” Ray Said, making y/n stop in her tracks, she climbed back down the steps and faced Ray. “What's up?”

“Kiss me.” he requested, giving his girlfriend his usual adorable smile.

Y/n laughed and playfully shook her head. “You're covered in motor oil” she playfully backed up and put her hands up in defense.

“So what? A few drops of motor oil has never killed anybody… And you've been covered head to toe in slime before” His voice was playful as he started walking towards her. She giggled and continued to back up away from him.

“Come on Honey” He followed her till he had her trapped between the wall of the garage and his body, “what ya gonna do now?” he smirked, placing his palms flat on the wall on either side of her, caging her in. He had her right where he wanted her.

She playfully rolled her eyes and leaned up and pressed her lips to his. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled them closer together, kissing her much more passionately.

The kiss didn't go very far because Peter slid down the fire poll that led to the garage In his Ghostbusters uniform. “Hey, less kissin' more bustin', that class five isn't gonna trap itself” Peter said to the both of them as Egon and Winston slid down the poll in their Ghostbuster uniforms as well.

“Damn Peter, you gotta have the worst timing ever” His voice was still lighthearted as he pulled away from y/n, a grin still on his face.

Y/n playfully rolled her eyes and left his arms to get her Ghostbusters uniform and proton pack, as she was getting her gear Peter spoke. “ya know the rules Bug, class-5 ghost... You stay home” Peter told her.

Y/n rolled her eyes at Peter. Peter and the boys were way over protective of her since she was the only girl on the team that actually busted ghosts.

Peter and the boys would always call her Bug. Mostly because she was the total opposite of her older brother Egon. As Peter would put it, y/n was always ‘buzzing’ around so the name kinda stuck.

“That's a stupid rule, I can take care of myself and a class-5 if I can take care of you boys” She said pointing at all four of the Ghostbusters. “... Hell, the four of you would starve to death in your dirty laundry if I wasn't around”

Ray laughed at this. “You know I think she might have a point” Ray had finished putting on his gear, and he and the team were preparing to leave, he walked over to y/n and gave her a quick kiss. “Just promise not to do anything dangerous, ok?”

“I promise…”

Ray smiled, nodding in appreciation. “That’s my girl.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, and began walking towards the Ecto-1, he climbed in, taking off down the road.

~~~~~~~~(.......)~~~~~~~~

The team stopped outside of a run down house, “Now, this is a class 5, so watch yourselves.” Egon said in a serious tone as the rest of the guys made their way out the car. “Alright, Everybody keep your game faces on.” Ray added.

“We should split up... And keep your walkie-talkies on” Peter told us all.

Y/n and the guys all nodded in agreement, Ray and Winston went left towards one end of the house, while Egon and Peter went right towards the other. They could all hear Egon speaking into his radio “You guys hear me?”

“I can hear ya Egon” y/n told her older brother as she walked down the dim hallway. “Do you guys see anything?” y/n asked the four boys through the walkie-talkie.

Y/n could hear Ray through the walkie talkie yelling

“Oh yeah! I got a big bastard in front of me!” Ray said he was walking out of the room, suddenly a dark poltergeist tackled him. He fell to the ground and was grabbed by a dark, hissing ghost. Ray screamed into the walkie talkie* “Help me god dammit! It’s got me!”

“Ray!” y/n's heart pounded when she heard him struggling through the walkie-talkie, she ran down a few hallways till she found him on the floor struggling with the ghost. Before she could reach him the ghost turned into a puff of black smoke that surrounded him, then within a blink of an eye, Ray was panting and the ghost was gone. Ray looked down, darkness surrounding his eyes, he wasn't his normal self anymore. “Ray…” she said softly, touching his cheek.

“y/n don't touch him!” Egon shouted, running up to him. He pushed y/n back, not realizing the force he used. Y/n tumbled to the ground as Egon scanned Ray's body with his EMF reader, it screamed and blinked with ghost activity.

Ray continued to struggle, he was breathing very heavily and his eyes were dark and cloudy. The ghost had a tight grip around him, Egon aimed his phaser gun but hesitated to fire. “This thing is attached to Ray, move y/n! I don’t want to hit you by accident!”

She pushed the proton gun away so it wasn't pointing at Ray. “Ray's possessed! If you shoot him it could seriously harm him!” y/n said to Egon.

“And if I don’t shoot it’ll kill him!” Egon yelled back angrily. “I know he’s possessed! But the only way to free him is to destroy the ghost using the proton gun!”

“Are you willing to risk Ray's life!” y/n shouted back at Egon. Ray's eyes were dark and he just looked at us menacingly as the ghost took over his body.

Egon was getting frustrated, but he wouldn’t give in. “Look I know this is bad, but that thing is just using his body as a vessel. If we kill it, Ray will come back to his senses!” Egon said sternly while aiming the gun at Ray.

Before y/n could fire back at her older brother, Peter and Winston ran towards them in a panic. “What happened?” Winston asked.

Peter went to touch Ray but saw his eyes were black and immediately jerked back. “okay... This is bad” *

Peter said.

“We know!” Egon said angrily. “This thing won’t let go of him!”

Ray was struggling against the grip the ghost had on him, he couldn’t move or speak, all he could do was stare at them with those dark eyes.

“This has never happened before, what do we do?” Winston asked.

“He's too dangerous to touch,” Peter added.

Egon sighed, he knew he had to do something before the ghost took total control. “You guys, move back! I’m gonna shoot it, if Ray gets caught in the crossfire it’s the only way”

“Hold it!” Peter shouted.

“What?!” Egon shouted. “It’s the only way, I’m not gonna let this damn thing control him! We have to take the risk!”

“I'll be right back and don't go anywhere and don't do anything!” Peter said and ran out to Ecto-1.

“What the hell are you doing!?” Egon yelled at Peter as he ran out to the car. “I’m not waiting!”

The ghost continued to hold Ray in its evil grasp, Egon aimed his gun. Peter came back, he snapped some black gloves on and started to duck tape Ray's hands together as Ray struggled in Peter's grasp.

Ray struggled and fought against him, trying to get free, but with his hands tied he couldn’t do much. Egon hesitated.

““This thing is really making this harder than it has to, should I take the shot? Peter? Or do you have an idea!?”

Peter huffed and wrapped tape around Ray's middle, securing his arms to his side. “we're gonna take him back to headquarters and you're gonna check him out in the Lab” Peter told Egon.

Ray probably would have ran off had he wasn't tied up, but he had no choice other than to let this happen. Egon looked annoyed, this wasn’t how this was supposed to go down. He sighed. “Fine.. I guess that’s the best course of action now.”

“Good, Winston help me carry Ray to the car” Peter told Winston then turned to y/n. “Bug, you're driving... I'm not risking you sitting in the back and getting hurt” Peter told her.

~~~~~~~~(.......)~~~~~~~~

“Sorry, Janine we need this!” Peter called out and took her office chair. Before she could protest or ask what was going on, Peter had already wheeled the chair to Ecto-1. Janine's curiosity got the best of her and she followed Peter, her eyes widened when she watched Winston and Peter move a struggling Ray into her office chair.

The three men grunted and fought, Winston held Ray down and Peter quietly secured Ray to the chair with more duct tape.

Egon and Peter pushed Ray into the lab and started reading the ghost activity. Ray grunted and tried to break free from the duct tape.

“Ray…don't make me use this” Peter pointed the proton gun at Ray and spoke to him like he was a child.

“Will you guys stop with the guns already?” Y/n snapped and pushed the gun down.

“G-guys…. Y/n?..h-elp m-me” Ray grunted for the first time. Y/n's heart shattered and she ran to his aid just out of instinct. Egon tried to stop her but she broke free from his grasp.

“Ray? Honey, look at me” She said holding his face in her hands, she didn't see his brownish-green eyes when she stared into his eyes. They weren't his eyes and she wasn't gonna stop till she saw his normal goofy gaze.

“Ray… You gotta fight this” I said sternly, he fought in my hold but I wasn't gonna let him go. “I know you're in there”

“y/n… Honey, help me” Ray then screamed like he was in pain while he fought off the ghost’s deathly hold.

“Ray? I love you! Do you hear me!” she cried, just wanting him back. It would also be smart to note that's the first time she ever told him she loved him, even though they had been best friends since college they just only started dating.

“I love you in every universe”

Smoke then started to surround both Ray and y/n. The ghost started to pull away from Ray's body. Egon and Peter scrambled around from the back of the lab and quickly got a trap and the proton gun.

One last scream ripped from Ray's mouth and ghost cannonball out of Ray. The ghost screamed and hollered as it flew around the lab.

“I got it!” Peter shouted and pointed his proton gun at the ghost, he trapped it with no trouble then quickly kicked it away from Ray and y/n. I bounced off this wall and landed in a dusty corner.

“What happened?” Ray panted, he looked around confused. His brows knitted together when he saw he was covered in duct tape. “why am I covered in tape?”

Y/n immediately wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight. “it doesn't matter… your back, that's what matters”

She kissed both of his cheeks then his forehead. “I love you”

“I love you too” Ray mumbled and nuzzled his face into her neck. He kissed her cheek then looked at his friends.

“could ya untape me now?” the boys quickly nodded and set him free, relieved they have their fun loving friend back.

#Ray stantz #Ray stantz x reader #Ray stantz imagines #dan akroyd #Ghostbusters x reader #Ghostbusters imagines #Ghostbusters #80s #who you gonna call #Egon spengler x reader