#Anyway this time of year is tough for me and a lot of other people too | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pinkrelish · 1 year

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲.

singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader

✶Surely, when two friends set up their two friends on a blind date in the very small town of Hawkins, they make sure those two people don't know each other beforehand, right? And, more importantly, aren't coworkers, right?✶

NSFW — slow burn, fluff, flirting, mutual pining, angst towards the end, drug/alcohol mention/use, 18+ overall for eventual smut

chapter: 3/20 [wc: 6.1k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11 / 12

AO3

Chapter 3: The Accidental First Date

“Is this too much?” you asked, yanking down the visor and checking yourself in the small mirror.

Sitting in the back parking lot of the movie theater, you went through your purse for the finishing touches on your look. Doing your last paranoia check for anything in your teeth, turning your head this way and that to zhuzh your hair, and most importantly, preening your oxymoron of a sweater to show a decent amount of cleavage without flashing the cups of your push-up bra.

Truly a walking contradiction of a top. Cable knit and warm, but with a plunging neckline, to where the top button started at your sternum.

“No, you look hot,” Robin assured with her goofy smile. “New York modest is Hawkins slutty. He’s gonna love you.”

You shrank into your girlish giggle. “Good, I want my dating debut in this little town to be a statement. Set the stage for future escapades.. Until I run out of men, I guess. Seriously, how many bachelors live here and aren’t total hicks? Four?” Robin laughed.

“Could be worse. You could be a lesbian.”

“True,” you concurred. “Good thing you have Vickie. Sucks she couldn’t come tonight.” Robin made a sad huff of agreement, working a mascara wand through her lashes. “Hey, I know I said ‘yes’ without asking, but is this guy you set me up with even my type? Not that I care, obviously; a good story is a good story, but I’m just trying to set my expectations here.”

She furrowed her eyebrows dramatically, and paused unscrewing her lip gloss to rock her entire body into a positive affirmation–almost bumping her forehead on the steering wheel from the force of her nodding. “Oh, absolutely,” she said emphatically. “Looks scary on the outside, but is a total sweetheart on the inside. Overconfident, and obnoxious, but in that charming, swoony way.”

“Perfect!” You clasped your hands together.

Stepping out of the car, she waited for you so you could walk with your arms linked together, and she continued, “I haven’t seen him in years, but Steve was telling me over the phone that he’s been going through a tough time, and hasn’t been on a date in a while.”

“Aw, poor guy.”

There was a beat of silence where both of your faces twisted into knowing smiles.

“I know what that look means..” Robin led, canting her head to you.

Innocent, you lifted your shoulder in a coy shrug, bringing a collection of her soft hair up to your chin. “No idea what you’re talking about. I was just thinking, if he hasn’t been on a date in a while.. Why not make it memorable for him?”

You laughed together, rounding the sidewalk to the front entrance of the theater where the glamorous marquee shined gentle daylight upon the darkened street. Romantic and intimate, with a crowd of people standing in vague suggestions of lines; some broken off, gossiping, smoking.

“There they are,” Robin whispered, letting go of your upper arm to wave at Nancy–who you had met at the grocery store last week. She saw you approaching, and tapped her hand on the chest of the man beside her.

Still a considerable distance away, you peered at him, and placed his luscious hair in your memory. “Oh, that’s the guy who came to the shop today.”

“Steve?”

“Yeah, he was talking to the annoying mechanic I’m always telling you about.”

“The one you have a crush on?”

“Shush,” you bristled at the mention of your not-so-secret. “I do not have a crush on Eddie. Anyway! Did I tell you what he did this morning? He fuckin’ stood outside the window next to my desk, just out of my view for like, full on minutes, waiting for me to look at him. Like Michael Myers or some shit. Scared me half to death.”

Robin, still caught on one detail you had somehow failed to mention in the month you worked at the auto body shop, quietly asked, “..Eddie?”

“Yeah, my coworker,” you answered, not looking at her when she fell a step behind, since you were too focused on greeting Nancy, and introducing yourself to Steve to notice her sudden jog up behind you. Too fixated on complimenting Nancy’s skirt to witness the way Steve aimed his confused frown just past your shoulder. Missed his dismissive hand gestures, and Robin’s panic as she tried to wordlessly communicate something dire to him.

You were too busy listening to the cars cruise by on the street, and chatting casually, and savoring the warmth of a new friendship to scrutinize the sound of quick footsteps from the other direction, or the jangle of metal chains attached to their presence, or Robin’s damning groan.

“Sorry, I’m–” a familiar voice said. A bit nasally and on the higher side. Mirthful, awake with youth, and excited to make a good first impression.

You turned to them. Your date.

“..Late,” they trailed off.

Deer in headlights. Big, brown doe-eyes wide with surprise, framed by beautiful black lashes.

He stared at you.

His stomach sank.

You stared at him.

Your heart raced.

Eddie had stopped mid-step with his hand raised in greeting. The chains on his leather jacket tinkered until they stilled. Kind smile frozen from a better time. Chest filled with a held breath. Presenting himself with his best foot forward, and now his ears were tinted with the embarrassment of trying too hard to impress.

Oh, God.

You blinked away, and were intentional to accept the situation for what it was without showing your surprise, opting for a simple, timid, awkward, shaky, exhaled, “Hey, Eddie.”

He wasn’t so poised.

Shutting his eyes, he allowed the realization to wash over him, scrunching his face in a pained expression as the puzzle pieces slotted into place. He hung his head, and released his breath through his nose. “Your roommate is Robin,” he stated, pointing at her to punctuate his sentence. “And you call her Bobbie.”

“Yeah..” It was an apology as much as it was a confirmation.

“You still call me Bobbie?” Robin asked, tugging on your sleeve, forgetting the tense air surrounding the group for the moment. “I haven’t used that stage name in years.”

“Guess it stuck with me..”

Thankfully, someone else added to the conversation. Unfortunately, that person was Steve addressing the elephant outside the ticket booth.

“So, I take it you two know each other,” he deduced, looking from Eddie’s dejected gaze at the ground, to you wringing your purse strap over your chest.

Eddie enlightened him in a solemn tone, sparing a single glance at his friend, “She’s the receptionist at work.”

“Ah.” He turned his attention to Robin. “You set up two people who work together.”

She threw her hands up and blamed him, “Uh! No way, dunce, don’t put this on me. This whole thing was your idea, and at no point in the conversation did you tell me Eddie was a mechanic! If you had told me he was a mechanic I probably could’ve put two-and-two together myself, and avoided setting up people who see each other every day.”

Increasingly red-faced, Steve very pointedly avoided Eddie’s suspicious squint after being outed as the one who set up the date, not Nancy. “You’re the one who lives with her, how could you not–?”

“Okay!” You clapped once to end their bickering. “Then it’s not a date.”

Nancy, bless her, picked up her improv skills fast. “Yeah! Not a date. Just a casual outing between friends. Steve, get the tickets ready so we can get popcorn before the line gets too long.” There was a ripple of unanimous murmurs, followed by shuffling to the entrance.

“Silver lining,” Nancy muttered out the side of her mouth to Steve, “It’s a movie date, so it’s not like they have to talk to, or look at each other.”

Steve tempered his laugh to a hiss and held the door for Robin, who in turn kept the it ajar behind her for you, but as you went to catch it, it was opened for you.

Clack- clack- clack. You’d heard the sound every morning; his distinct rings on the metal frame of the glass door beside your desk, followed by his soft grunt when pulling it open. But whereas his whispered ‘morning’ normally echoed in the tiled lobby, it was now on the back of your neck, fanning your skin, and it wasn’t a sweet greeting, but a reserved, solemn, regretful, sad, “Sorry for.. yeah.” That’s how he started your date that wasn’t a date. With an apology. And still, as the crisp autumn air was replaced by the humid waft of buttery popcorn, your brain was stuck at the garage, filling in the drag of his heavy work boots on the way to the breakroom for coffee, and the lingering scent of cigarette smoke trailing his stride.

Except, as you were jolted back to reality, you came to know he didn’t present himself so generically outside the context of motor oil. Due to the traffic clogging around the ticket ripper, Eddie ran into you and you discovered the nuances of what he smelled like when not at work, with the added intimacy of his chest pressed to your back.

Worn leather enveloped by notes of vanilla musk cologne. Spicy deodorant carried by the sweet earthy tang of tobacco. Dove White on his heated skin, and Dawn on his hands.

A symphony you could immerse yourself in learning for hours if it wasn’t for the crime of your group moving forward.

“Did you want anything?” Eddie asked you, pointing at the concessions.

“Oh, no, I’m good.” You made a clawing gesture at your mouth. “Eating popcorn before the movie even starts because I have no self control and then being forced to sit there with kernels in my teeth drives me nuts.”

Not finding you as endearing as you intended, he slipped his hands into his pockets, and motioned for both of you to stand off to the side, out of the way while you waited for the others to get their snacks. And he just stood there. Not saying anything. You were turned to him as if to carry a conversation, but his gaze was set ahead; not on anything in particular, just away from you.

Rarely had his face been this slack, this devoid of emotion. Even when doing menial work like filling out invoices for parts you would need to order, there was activity. Liveliness in the tic of his eyes reading lines on the paper. Movement of his tongue sliding across his top lip. A subtle crease between his brows. Something. Anything.

You spoke above the giggly teenagers sneaking into the film next door, “For a stick in the mud, you look nice.” He really did, in his well-loved jacket draping his frame after years of being broken in to perfection. Tight black jeans. Sensible boots. More accessories than just his rings.

Try as he might to cut you an unamused look, his freshly washed hair bounced in immaculate waves around his face, catching the low mood lighting like a messy halo.

“Thanks,” he said, not meaning it.

“I can see why you don’t get many dates if you always look this miserable.”

“I’m not miserable.”

“Glum, then? Woebegone? Hapless? Crestfallen?” When he seemed hellbent on wishing he were anywhere else, you eased up on your act. Harboring the pit of rejection eating away at your stomach, you pried, “Disappointed?”

The glimpse of vulnerability in your words was not lost on him.

He snapped to, shaking himself out of his funk to reassure you in his gentle timbre amongst the chaos of someone beating the top score on the pinball machine, “I’m not disappointed to be here with you.”

“Then what are you?”

“Sorry,” he guessed, shrugging. He was the type to speak with his hands, moving them despite being confined to his pockets. “I’m sorry our friends suck at communicating and this is how your night turned out; you being here with me when you were clearly expecting someone else.” His gaze didn’t dare dip lower than your nose, but the effort you put into your appearance did not go unnoticed. It wasn't the first time he stared a little too directly into your eyes after you decided to stop covering yourself up.

“I don’t go on dates intending to find my one true love or anything lame like that,” you said, honestly. “I go on them to have fun, and I think we can still have fun, even if we have to share the same tiny lunch table come Monday, and we side-eye Carl for bringing tuna again.” He almost smiled at that.

Sensing he needed another boost of confidence, you kept going, “Before I knew it was you, Robin was talking you up in the car. Going on about how my date was some sweet guy, super handsome, and with a heart of gold. You know, the Prince Charming type. Oh, and totally obnoxious too. Real loudmouth who never shuts up.”

Okay, maybe some of that was ad libbed, but you wanted to know how much of it was true.

Eddie shifted from foot to foot, subduing his grin by biting his tongue, literally. “That’s a pretty apt way to describe me back in high school, yeah, especially with how I’m dressed.”

“What changed?”

“Uh, I had a kid,” he laughed. “She stole all my charm. I swear Adrie can talk me into anything.”

“I think you’re just a pushover.”

“Probably,” he surrendered. Raising his brows, he mused aloud one of the many things on his mind, “Do you not agree that she described me accurately? Sweet Prince Charming guy, all that?”

There was no way in hell you were going to speak your truth. Instead, you smirked. “I don’t think you want to know what adjectives I’d use to describe you.” They were far too vulgar to utter in a crowded room. Hot in the most annoying way. Absolute pain in my ass. Just the worst, especially when I don’t hear you sneak up behind me in the kitchen, and you think it’s funny to scare me right as I open my drink from the Coke machine, and you laugh your stupid laugh when I drop it. An absolute eye-sore when you look up at me while you're on your hands and knees cleaning up the mess you created. Irritatingly handsome when you grin and buy me another one.

Ignorant to your private thoughts, he swung his elbow out to push you, and smiled.

Relaxing into the natural lull in conversation, you both watched your friends make it to the front of the line and order their food. They waited at the counter, starting the clock on when they would inevitably make it back to the two of you, and cease your alone time with Eddie. (Although, first, they’d have to traverse an entire bucket of dropped popcorn, and navigate around more than one group of children reenacting a fight scene they just watched on the big screen.)

“Were you disappointed I was your date?” you asked.

Robin was right. Eddie was a sweetheart. As soon as he detected an inkling of insecurity–whether it be in your strained voice, or etched into your face, or imbued in the question itself–he was quick to absolve your worry.

“No, no,” he said. “Relieved, if I’m being honest.”

“Relieved?” You weren’t expecting that.

“There’s a reason I haven’t dated since having Adrie. It didn’t sound like Steve made it clear to.. you, well, my anonymous date which happened to be you. Jesus, this is confusing. Whatever, you know what I mean, he didn’t say if he told my would-be date that I’m a dad, and I was afraid of coming here and having to tell them myself. Even if we hit it off, it’s a deal breaker for some people, y’know? Not that I blame them. I would’ve said the same thing five years ago.”

You nodded as you listened to him. “Never thought about it from that perspective. All my dates have been one-and-dones. Super casual. Kids were never really brought up.”

“Yeah, the dating world isn’t always so gracious. I’m kinda glad I’m here with you–someone who knows me, at least.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you spied Steve raising his sodas above his head as two boys ran past him, pretending they were in a shootout.

Knowing he wouldn’t have time to respond, you informed Eddie, “You’re worrying about the wrong thing. Adrie’s an angel. You should be more concerned about your curmudgeonly attitude being a deal breaker.” His narrowed-eye glare had never felt so sweet.

Robin’s giddy presence became known. She dropped her chin to your shoulder with a satisfied hum, and wrapped her arm around your waist to hug you snug to her body. You laid your head on top of hers, swaying with her.

She must’ve made a face at Eddie, because a different emotion flinched across his features, and he was back to avoiding making eye contact.

You, however, were more enticed by the drink in her hand than analyzing his change in demeanor. “Shit, now I want an Icee.”

“Yeah, I got cherry,” she said, angling the straw towards you. “They have Coke too–Okay, bye, dork,” she giggled after you.

“Go ahead and sit without me! I want an Icee.” Nancy clutched the largest size of popcorn to her chest to avoid spilling it as you stumbled out of Robin’s hold and darted for the concession stand.

Eddie raised his voice, “You couldn’t have decided that five minutes ago when I asked?”

“Nope!”

————

The theater for the low budget horror flick reflected the town’s perception of it. As soon as the heavy door closed behind you, your footsteps on the dense carpet echoed around the empty room. Your group was sitting in the back row, and their murmurs could be heard from the bottom.

You climbed up to them and flumped into the seat next to Eddie. “We can share,” you said excitedly, shaking the drink at him before placing it in the cupholder at the end of the single armrest.

When the subtle pinch of concern around his eyes remained, you promised him you didn’t have cooties.

He played with his rings, pulling them down the length of his fingers and spinning them while he worked through his confusion. “You don’t have to sit next to me.. You can sit next to Robin.” He motioned beside him, to Steve munching on his popcorn while Nancy held it, and Robin whispering on the end, rolling her eyes at something Nancy said.

“Why wouldn’t I sit next to you?”

Eddie’s mouth opened and closed, struggling to settle on what he wanted to say, and finishing with a submissive shrug, leather jacket groaning at the act. He bounced his foot quicker, shaking the aglets on his laces against his boot in a chaotic rhythm. “Dunno..”

“You’re silly. I’d pinch your cheek if I didn’t think you’d bite me.” He reeled at that, and you giggled. You didn’t mind making him balk at your weird quirks; whatever put him at ease. Rather, whatever made him stop rubbing his knee against yours, because you were certain the friction was about to cause a fire.

Digging through your purse, you took out a rectangular box and slid your finger under the flap, popping it open and dumping a handful of candy into your palm. You threw it back into your mouth. “Want sh-ome?” you chewed, offering the box to him.

“Who the hell eats Mike and Ikes?”

“Uh, me, jerk.” Right as the lights dimmed to pitch black, and the curtains drew back from the screen, you hit him with the most exaggerated pout. “I only eat them at the movies. They’re a ritual, and you’re rude.” The shadows lining his face twisted into a deeper grin. “Are you more of a chocolate guy?”

“Maybe,” he answered like he was suspicious of your motives.

And maybe he should be. Afterall, you committed the number one sin when it came to cinemas.

“Looks like I chose right,” you said, reaching into your purse and pulling out a Kit Kat. “I was hoping my date would be a chocolate sorta guy–” You went quiet seeing his eyes widen a touch. “I mean, not date. Begrudging coworker? Tentative acquaintance?”

“Reluctant friend,” he answered smoothly, taking the package from you and ripping it open with his teeth.

~~~

Trailers for other films played, bathing the room in flickers of light interrupting the darkness. The opening credits began. Your candy was half-eaten. His was devoured. You took a sip of your Icee, and from the vantage point of pressing your back into the cheap theater seat, you observed him in your periphery.

His gaze hardly left the drink. Your offer to share it gnawed at him in a visible way. Scoping out the straw, the possible trace of spit you left behind, the possible trace of spit he’d leave behind. He peered at the screen to acknowledge the intro, and then back down it was, boring holes into the Icee.

You were no better, nibbling at your lips when he finally caved and took a sip–all too quick, and clumsy, almost missing the cup holder when he put it back down with lightning speed.

The edge of your thighs touched under the arm rest; worse so, when you folded one leg under you, and leaned into him. “Do you hate it when people talk during movies?”

“Not these kind.” He meant the genre in general, which made for great fodder for ripping apart in friend groups, but another popular trope among this realm of fiction became apparent. The first set of tits flashed on screen, and you both found yourselves lacking in the commentary department.

After a moment, you tilted your head. “That actress looks familiar..”

“She’s been in other cult classics. Always acts with her eyebrows.” He turned to you and nudged your shoulder, vying for your full attention. He emphasized the end of each word with an inflection as if it were a question, and raised his eyebrows in every way possible, mocking her slowly, “She’s the one who always talks like this–!” He looked crazy contorting his face to make his point.

“That’s it!” You snapped. “Her wearing glasses really threw me off.”

“Mhm.” His hum vibrated along your upper arm pressed to his, and he asked quietly under the screams of the first gorey death, “Do you like B movies?”

“Hell yeah. Back home they would play them at this rooftop drive in place. I rarely paid to watch them, though. The next building over had a good view of the projector screen.”

His banter dropped in favor of chewing on the corner of his thumb. If it wasn’t for the wild change in scenery cast across his face, you could’ve sworn his faint smile faltered into inscrutability.

Did you say something wrong?

————

“Damn, that was a cool practical effect,” Eddie complimented the purplish fizzing ooze that once was a person.

“I know, right? That’s why I love these bad movies. There’s no budget for good CGI, so they have to do creative stuff like that.”

It was inevitable. Bound to happen. A mere act of fate. Stars aligning in the close knit group leaning forward to exchange witty quips about the hare-brained plot holes in the movie, and not minding their surroundings except to receive everyone’s laughter, making jokes at the expense of the bad acting.

Steve was asking a question that was technically answered by the movie’s lore if he’d paid attention to the dialogue during the second gratuitous stripping scene. You or Eddie could have answered, but Robin took it upon herself to explain, and you two nodded along.

Absentminded, you reached for the Icee.

Distracted, Eddie reached for the Icee.

The waxed paper cup was cold under your fingers, but your hand was blanketed by warmth.

Slow to process, you both glanced down at the reason why neither of you were achieving your goal, and the overload of sensory inputs faded away to one: touch.

Your thumb was trapped under his palm, and his fingers stretched around the cup, meeting yours on the other side and housing them beneath his in a steady amount of pressure. They were almost interlocking. Holding. Wrist on top of wrist–his with the extra harshness of his leather and chain bracelet on your skin. The heaviness of his forearm resting on yours.

Truly, the accident lasted all of two pumps of your heart, but it felt like more when he stroked his calloused fingertips over your knuckles as he let go.

“Sorry!” he blurted.

“S-Sorry,” you laughed, jittery from the encounter.

Your cheeks were hot. His were flushed red. The lewd moaning of a woman feigning to orgasm just from the male lead removing her bra alone played in the background. Neither of you could decide which plan of escape was less embarrassing: continuing to stare like idiots at each other, or watch the actress’ ginormous boobs bounce as she faked riding a guy.

You blinked. His eyebrows ticced up.

Boobs it was.

He adjusted how he sat, tugging his jeans down his legs a little, and crossing his arms. Eyes laser focused on the woman’s face. The why was obvious, and you couldn’t help but tease him for pretending to be a gentleman in your company when you held no such modesty when it came to ogling her tits.

“Thinking about how much Aquanet she uses?”

“Shut up.”

————

Later into the film, after the plot circled back to the juicy gore, you leaned into Eddie to ask him a question.

What that question was, you couldn’t remember.

As soon as you placed your elbow on the armrest and used the back of your hand to tap his shoulder, he dipped his head to hear you. It was an automatic thing starting from the moment you slouched in your seat. That’s all. A shift in your sitting position and intake of breath, and he knew you were going to speak, and he wanted to listen. He cared about what you had to say. He leaned into you as well, because listening to you took priority over the movie.

“Eddie?” You sought any words. Any words at all. Any would do. Any question, even if you knew the answer. “Uhm. The music sounds really familiar. Do you recognize it?”

“It’s the same composer as Chopping Mall and Deathstalker II.”

“Ah.”

Ah. All you could muster when you were charmed by the silhouette of his lips moving. Watching them form letters, pout on the plosives, press into a line on his thick swallow.

Ah. All you could say when his hair brushed over your fingers. Dry, in need of a deep conditioning. Curling around your forefinger. Tickling your palm.

Ah. All you could respond with when you lifted your gaze, and caught him staring at you like you stared at him.

————

As predicted, the filmmakers padded the runtime with another topless scene, and the movie ended on a witty one liner that included not one, but two puns, and no resolution to the numerous plot threads left hanging.

“That was.. certainly something!” Robin summed up, holding the doors open to the subdued hours of the night.

Once outside in the fresh air, the dynamic reverted back to its original status.

Your friends made themselves scarce in the worst way; whistling, shuffling to the side as they found asinine things to comment on, leaving you and Eddie alone. Their intentions were pure, but reality was not so kind.

Eddie cemented his gaze on the sidewalk as he picked at his callouses, and apologized for the mistake of going out with you. Again. “Sorry about all this.”

Itchy sweat broke out across your back. It sucked he was so brazen about rejecting you. You had hoped some of the tender crush you had on him extended past the armrest you shared, the looks you shared, the touches you shared; but maybe you were just tricking yourself into finding things that weren’t there.

Wanting to end on a better note, you appealed to him in a last ditch effort to smooth over the situation, “I meant it when I said you looked good tonight. It’s nice to see you outside of your work clothes.”

“Thanks.”

That’s all. Thanks. A shy glance from beneath his curtain of messy hair, and a somber tone to maximize the awkwardness of the not-date with your coworker.

You needed to get the hell out of there. “See you Monday?”

“Yeah, see you Monday.”

The group winced in unison when they saw the way you two departed.

Robin was quick to link her arm with yours and gather you closer, bringing your heads together to gossip as you walked back to her car. “That bad, huh?”

Around the corner and out of sight, you gave her half a smile, trying to appear in better spirits. “Well, I don’t think he likes me. He didn’t return any of my compliments, and he apologized for being on a date with me no less than four times over the course of the evening.”

She cringed for you. “That’s worse than Balloon Guy, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you said, remembering what would go down in history as the shittiest date you’d been on. “Yeah, that’s more times than Balloon Guy.” Robin hugged you tighter, making your steps go clumsy. She apologized for Eddie’s weirdness, but you shrugged. Maybe you were supposed to find it weird, too. Maybe you were supposed to disapprove of the idea of romantic feelings for your coworker, too. Maybe you were supposed to have no expectations for it to lead anywhere, too.

Maybe you were supposed to reject him, too.

————

Still loitering outside the theater, Steve exchanged a look with Nancy, and jogged to catch up with Eddie before he made it too far in the opposite direction.

“Uh, hey buddy!” Steve clapped him on the shoulder to stop him. “It sounded like you two were hitting it off during the movie, what happened?”

Eddie sulked under the question. His chest fell with a surrendering sigh, and his boots scraped the concrete as he turned to him, not bothering to mask the dullness in his slack expression. Everything about him was tired, including his voice when he slipped into a lower, raspy octave. “She’s nice, but..”

“But what?” Nancy asked, searching his face.

Bottling his burdens, he clenched his teeth, and worked his jaw as he contemplated evading their insistent prying; but after ruminating on it, he explained the source of his problems, “She lives a very.. whimsy life.” He fluttered his hand like a bird flapping its wings, or a butterfly. “She does this thing where she says ‘yes’ to anything anyone asks her; it’s why she moved to Hawkins, and why she ended up on this date to begin with. Y’know, just doing whatever seems like fun. It’s cute, in a way, and obviously I.. feel a way towards her, but this place isn’t where she’s looking to lay down roots. New York is her home.”

Steve squeezed his shoulder, knowing what was about to come.

“I’ve already been left for someone better.. I can’t go through that again.” Eddie’s eyes begged them to understand. “I don’t want Adrie to get attached to someone who’s just gonna leave.”

Nancy started, “Eddie–You don’t know if she’d leave.”

He shook his head, and pulled away from Steve’s lingering grasp. Shushed his friend’s well-meaning words about him being valued, and to forget his insecurities about not being good enough.

“A girl like that doesn’t need me weighing her down,” Eddie said, imparting the wisdom he’d come to accept since you made a mark on his life weeks ago, when it became your mission to befriend him. “I’ll pick up Adrie in the morning. Thanks for watching her.”

The night got darker as he left.

Darker still, when Steve waved at his back, and Nancy played with the locket around her neck, and her goodbye went disregarded.

————

Silence.

It surrounded him. Blood pulsing in his ears, his heart beat, the refrigerator hum, the tink of glass bottles as he grabbed the full six pack and brought it to the couch, springs squeaking under his weight.

Utter emptiness welcomed him.

Not a sound in his home. Not a giggle from his daughter, or scrape of a skillet from Wayne’s makeshift breakfast-dinner before he went to work. Even the dogs around the trailer park were quiet.

Just.. nothing.

It was what he wanted, right? A night to himself; a break from the chores, the questions, the food making, the taking care of a tiny human being who made everything tougher than it needed to be.

He got his wish.

Two beers down in peace, he got his wish.

Eddie looked around his trailer lit by the single lamp beside him.

Quiet, empty, nothing.

Dark silence.

The jolt of his sob startled him. It erupted from his chest so suddenly. Ripped from the tightness of repressed emotions; the things he tried to deny, to feel and then lock away. To keep safe, buried down deep where he could manage them from progressing past the boundaries he created for his own good, and Adrie’s. He felt the agony of them all at once. The morning smiles, the afternoon laughs, the evenings of pretending you didn’t plan to bump into each other in the doorway to the lobby. The game of seeing how long he could watch you twirl the phone cord around your finger before you looked up from your desk. Your sweet way of comforting him after the hard nights of Adrie’s sleep regression by taking his tan work jacket and draping it over his shoulders while he slept at the lunch table in the break room. Your gentle method of fixing his collar when it was tucked on the inside of his coveralls.

The date was too good to be true.

In fact, the truth itself was far more painful.

The date was amazing. He couldn’t remember a time in his life when he had more fun. More thrills, sure. But not more fun. There wasn’t a day in his youth where he experienced more of the flirty thrum in his veins than when he committed himself to learning the way your lips moved when saying his name in the darkened theater.

The date was perfect. He was happy. And he couldn’t have it again. Shouldn’t have it again. Wouldn’t have these feelings again.

Eddie doubled over and put his third beer on the floor before he spilled it. Nothing was discernible beyond the water invading his ability to see, to fathom his reflection in the old TV. Sad, miserable, and lonely. An idiot for finally getting attached to someone, and it was someone he wasn’t supposed to.

Tears slipped from between his lashes. He smeared them on his cheeks, covering his sweaty face from his possessions bearing witness to his stupidity.

It was in his best interest to reject you–reject your casual stance on dating, and relationships, and people with kids–but the face you made when your advances went underappreciated churned his stomach.

He needed to be stronger. But he was weak.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he sighed into the stale air. Opening another beer, he nursed it as he huddled into the corner of the couch, and searched for Adrie’s quilt to soothe him. But of course, he sent it with her when he dropped her off at Steve’s.

No baby blanket to hold onto. No Adrienne to sleep on his chest to ease the pain of loneliness. No reason to look forward to Monday after he royally screwed everything up.

“Goddamnit,” he groaned.

Maybe, if he apologized enough, there was a chance you wouldn’t hate him.

Maybe, if you forgave him, you’d go back to the morning smiles, and the afternoon laughs.

And maybe, if he was enough of a masochist, he’d let you gently ease past those boundaries meant to keep you, and your kindness out. If you wanted to trespass, that is. He didn’t know. He was an idiot.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #mechanic!eddie #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #the yes policy

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steviesbicrisis · 9 months

Text

Dustin had been waiting this moment for months.

Mind you, Dustin isn’t one to bring up his personal life to the public at any chance he gets, but a part of him really wants everyone to know his role in one of the most important up-coming weddings of the year.

“So, I’ve heard you had a big role in all of this, what happened?” The host asks, on the edge of his seat.

“Well, I know Eddie cause we’ve done some livestreams together, we’ve met a couple of times and he seemed cool. And I know Steve cause, other than working together, he’s basically a brother to me, you know-” the audience interrupts him with a big ‘aaaaw’ sound and loud clapping.

“I think you misunderstood me, he’s the type of older brother who is no fun and makes you wish either of you was adopted.”

The audience laughs.

“Anyways, we were all at a party and I introduced them and Eddie was, you know, immediately obsessed with Steve. But Steve was engaged at the time,” Dustin decides to not dwell on this part of the story, it was a very tough time for Steve and some of it was public enough to make it worse. Dustin is just happy that he can talk about Steve’s ex-fiancé in the past tense.

“Time goes on, and as soon as the news of Steve being single again hits the public, I get a call from one begging Eddie Munson-” he wasn’t really begging but Dustin wants to sell the story “-asking about Steve once again. Like, how was he? Was he fine? Ready to meet other people? and I was like 'I don't know dude, I don't ask him about his dating prospects daily' and that's when he asked for Steve's number."

Dustin takes a small pause before going into the next part of the story "Obviously I don't go around giving people Steve's number, and I get asked a lot," the audience laughs again, "so I do the decent thing and ask Steve can I give Eddie your number? is it okay?

And Steve goes all into this theatrical performance Oi, no, mamma mia," Dustin goes strong with the Italian accent "All these men, che palle, they never leave me alone. Oddio-”

The host interrupts him “wait, does Steve have this strong Italian accent?”

“Of course not, he was born in Indiana, I’m trying to sell the story man!” Dustin pretends to be annoyed and the host goes along with it, making the audience laugh and cheer.

“Anyways, he was trying to say no but clearly meant yes. So I gave Eddie the number and whatever Eddie did with it, must’ve been the right call.”

A photo of Steve’s engagement announcement appears behind them right after: Steve and Eddie’s hands, finger intertwined and matching rings.

“Clearly he did” the host agrees after the clapping and cheering from the audience dies down.

“And what about wedding gifts? Are you doing something with the whole group? Or is it a solo thing?” The host inquires.

“Uh, I gave Steve a husband?? He should be giving me gifts”.

———

Predictably, the interview goes viral.

A few days later, Dustin comes back home to find a gift waiting for him.

It’s two VIP tickets for one of Eddie’s shows under his and Suzie’s name (a YouTuber friend Dustin didn’t have the courage to ask out, yet).

The note attached to the box is simple and very clear.

“Thank you, little shit. Now that we are even, the wedding gift is expected or you’ll be grounded.

See you at the wedding

S&E”

Despite being a twenty something, successful and independent since he was 17, Dustin takes the threat very seriously.

#inspired by Jessie Ferguson talking about Sofia Vergara’s wedding #a silly thing to come back to posting #yaaay #I love Dustin #they’re all internet famous #Eddie is a musician who started as a YouTuber and still makes videos sometimes #the party & Steve are famous for making content together regularly #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve and eddie #stranger things #steve x eddie #dustin henderson #YouTuber steve #streamer steve #streamer Dustin #musician Eddie

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decembermidnight · 4 months

Text

Learn your place

Summary: You challenge Joel's authority at a meeting. He does not take it well. In fact, he'll teach you where your place is.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 4.8k

Warnings: smut, 18+ mdni, dom!Joel, brat tamer!Joel, age gap, wet hair Joel, dry humping, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving), edging and orgasm denial (f), humiliation kink, degradation kink, praise kink, lots of dirty talk, spitting, face slapping, creampie, bathtub sex, mirror sex, cum eating

A/N: This is the first time I'm writing for Joel and I'm so excited! This is loosely based on a dream my bestie had. I decided to turn it into a Joel oneshot and gift it to her (and to all of you, of course) for Christmas. As always, comments and reblogs are very appreciated. Divider: @saradika-graphics

Masterlist - read on Ao3

They sent you to meet the Boston group immediately out of the quarantine zone. They came all the way here to settle the score with your rival gang, who tried to fuck with them too.

You set up this meeting to deal with those motherfuckers together and, why not, maybe even establish a new partnership.

There's three of them, one has an angry scowl on his face - you notice him immediately. You can see by the way he walks that he's fuming, but what really gives it away it's his eyes. You've never seen eyes so expressive - looks that could kill. He’s just your type - dangerous, older man.

"You must be Joel." you cross your arms and try to look tough.

His dark eyes scout you as you try to appear as impassive as possible. You notice the way he's looking at you from head to toe, intrigued.

“I am.” he answers, a subtle smirk on his face.

"Good. The others are waiting for us. Let's go."

You sneak back into the QZ and then to the headquarters of your group, an apartment building on the outskirts.

While you have the meeting in the basement, you feel Joel's gaze on your body. You try not to look at him too much but it's hard. He's magnetic and charming, sitting with his arms crossed right in front of you. You keep exchanging looks as the others talk.

Right when your group leader says something about what happened with the rival gang, he starts talking.

"Just tell me where their hideout is - I will go there now and kill them all like the rats that they are." he says casually, shrugging.

"That’s not a good idea." you instinctively reply in a quiet voice.

"What the fuck do you know about this anyway?" he snaps at you, not enjoying the way you challenge his authority.

"You can’t kill everyone who steps in your way." you try to be superior and keep calm, not wanting to give in to anger yet.

"That's the only reason why I'm here." he growls back.

"If you do so, FEDRA will be on us and will ruin all of our plans, including yours. I have worked my ass off to be where we are now and I will not allow that." you stand up from your chair and look at him from head to toe "Now shut up, and listen to what we’re going to do."

"Are you giving me orders?!" he snarls as he stands up and starts walking towards you.

You two look at each other in the eyes, making the room atmosphere unbearable for everyone except the two of you. The others are silent, feeling the tension, the anger, the looks you exchange.

"Hey, you two. Calm down. We came here to find a solution, not to fight between us." Tommy, Joel’s brother, intervenes, but it has now become a challenge to hold your gaze into each other’s eyes.

"Joel. Let's hear what they have to say. They know the territory and the people better than we do." he adds.

Joel looks at you from head to toe. "Fine." he growls as he goes sitting back in his chair.

The rest of the group goes on talking about the best strategy to adopt, but you two are too busy glaring at each other to even bother paying attention to what they’re saying.

After what it felt like years, a compromise was reached. Joel, his group and a couple of your guys are supposed to go there and scare them off, just to give them a warning, an ultimatum.

Everyone finally leaves the building and you remain alone to complete some minor tasks before heading back home.

It’s only a matter of minutes - you’re almost done with your assignment when a heavy storm breaks out and not long after, you hear a loud explosion coming from the city.

You’re just about to go check the window when you hear a loud banging on the door and immediately go see who that might be.

It’s Joel, to your surprise, and he’s completely drenched due to the storm outside. You must admit he looks even better with wet hair.

"Fucking Fireflies blew up a building and now FEDRA is patrolling the streets. We split up. This house was the closest to where I was. I need a place for the night." his voice is authoritative - he is not requesting it, he is demanding it.

"Look who came back begging for my help after showing me no respect at all. What if I say no?" you cross your arms and lean on the doorframe, a smirk on your face.

He scoffs and shakes his head.

"So willing to spare those fuckers' lives, but when it comes to help your new ally, you refuse?"

"So… you're my ally now?" you taunt him.

You see that look on his face again, his eyes full with rage staring back at yours.

"Are you having fun?" his voice is firm and cold.

You chuckle, seeing how quickly he gets pissed off.

"You can bet I am. Come with me, I'll show you a spare room we have."

He nods and follows you upstairs.

"That'll do?" you ask as he looks around the small apartment, hands on his hips, knee tilted out. He gives you another nod in assent.

Just as you turn around to leave, you feel a hand grabbing your wrist firmly.

"Hey. Where do you think you're going?!" he pins you to the wall, his left hand leaning on it so that you can’t escape from him. You hold your gaze and look at him in his dark, angry, lustful eyes.

"Did you enjoy speaking to me like that earlier?" his voice is firm and low-pitched, almost a growl.

"W-what?" you are caught by surprise at the way he grabbed you and at the way he’s addressing you right now, and you don’t know how to react.

"Did you really think I'd let it pass by? After the way you spoke to me during the meeting?"

You are speechless, you suddenly feel hot, your breathing is getting labored and your chest heaves due to the abrupt tension filling the room, but you still try to challenge him with your eyes, glaring at him like earlier, not wanting to appear weak in front of him.

"Little brat. Disrespecting me like that, speaking to me like that, and now looking at me like that. You think you're tough?"

You keep holding your gaze, staring directly at him.

"Stop it. Now." you try to act stiff and impassive, but the intense way he’s looking at you is making you falter.

"Still trying to speak to me like that?! There's nobody here to impress, no one can protect you here." he goads you, his face getting closer to yours.

"Protect me from who?"

"From me. Little brat." he grabs you by the hair and starts kissing you in an angry, passionate way. You lean into the kiss as he sticks his tongue in your mouth, welcoming it and doing the same with yours, savoring the faint whisky taste on his lips. You can't help letting out a moan at how much you're enjoying it. When he hears that, he pushes you further against the wall and starts to rip your clothes off your body feverishly, beginning with your shirt. His lips trail down to your neck as he unhooks your bra and unbuttons your jeans, yanking them over your ass together with your underwear in one swift move.

"J-Joel..." you sigh when he runs his hands all over your naked, quivering body, feeling how soft your skin is, playing with one of your hardened nipples as his teeth sink into your neck.

He turns you around, slamming you against the wall.

"Shut up. You need to learn your place. I will show you where you belong." he growls lustfully.

"H-how dare you… Asshole-" you let out in an aroused sigh as he brings your arms behind your back, holding them still in the tight grasp of his hand.

"I told you to shut the fuck up. You don't get to speak to me like that, do you understand?!"

He gets close to your ear.

"Speak when you're spoken to. I said - do you understand?" he whispers darkly as he lets his right hand slide between your legs and starts touching your clit, feeling how wet you got for him already.

"Y-yes..." you moan.

"I knew it." he smirks "Acting all tough and badass earlier, but you're dripping between your legs. This pussy is begging to be fucked, isn't it?" he rasps, his hot breath on your neck as he slides two fingers inside of your achingly needy cunt, earning a desperate groan of pleasure from you when he does. You can’t hide anymore how much you want this.

"Yes, it is." he growls in your ear, answering himself, pleased as he hears your breathy moans when he draws circles on your clit, his fingers soaked in your arousal up to the knuckle.

“Now let me see how obedient you are and take your clothes off." he orders as he keeps teasing your slit.

You step out of your boots and jeans in a rush, now completely naked at his mercy.

He then grabs you by the arm and takes you to the bathroom, forcing you to kneel in the tub as he opens the tap to fill it with warm water.

He starts to slowly unbutton his flannel shirt as he has his gaze locked on yours. You look at his face, at his dark eyes that are devouring you in hatred and lust.

When he starts to unbutton his jeans, you divert your eyes from his and look at the bulge in his underwear.

"Hey. Eyes on me." he lifts your chin with his hand, but it’s hard to resist when his erection is right in front of your face.

“What are your eyes looking at, hm? I saw that. Disrespectful brat. I believe I said to look at me.”

You try to mumble some words but you can’t speak, too aroused to even think of an answer.

“Answer me. Were you looking at this?” he grips his cock tight in his hand, and you try not to look away from him this time.

“Look at it.” he grabs you by your hair and forces you to look at the deliciously thick cock in his hand as he slowly strokes it before your face.

“Do you want it?” he coos darkly.

You nod lightly, entranced by the way his hand slides on the thick shaft, following its movement with your eyes.

“I didn’t hear you.” he rasps as he lowers himself to your level and closes the tap.

“Yes, Joel, I want it. Give it to me.”

“Still giving me orders? What did I tell you about giving me orders?”

“Please, Joel, give it to me.” you plead.

“Hm, that’s better.” he says as he walks into the bathtub and sits.

He grabs your waist and makes you straddle him, and then he starts to kiss you again. He cups your face with his hands as he sticks his tongue in your mouth. You abandon yourself to him completely, following his lead and feeling his erection brushing against your lower belly.

"Here." he grabs you by the hips so that you can start grinding against him. You let out a moan when you feel the tip of his cock brushing against your clit and keep dry humping him to give yourself pleasure.

"Look at you - getting off on my dick like the desperate slut that you are. Hmm? You like it?"

"Fuck. Yes." you let out in an aroused sigh as you keep rolling your hips on his.

His hands keep guiding your movements as you go on kissing each other.

His lips start to trail down your neck, covering it in kisses that make you groan uncontrollably as you keep dry humping his cock.

He grabs his cock in his hand as the other one pushes your butt down to make you sit on it. You feel his thick girth stretching your needy walls, feeling every ridge and vein as you slowly sink down on it, making you both moan looking at each other in the eyes.

Once he’s inside of you completely, you start riding him, your hands on his shoulders as the water ripples and sloshes and he looks at you, a dark smirk on his face when he sees how much you're enjoying it. You get close to him to moan on his mouth, to see his reaction. He gets close, so close to your lips, but that's when you pull away to tease him. He growls, grabbing your hair with his hand and bringing you to him, taking what he wants, sticking his daring tongue in your mouth one more time. The longing, passionate way he’s kissing you and his thick cock stretching your walls bring you close to the edge already. You feel the tingle of the orgasm approaching, your breath gets even more laboured and you start trembling. He notices, feeling you shake under his touch, panting on his lips.

"What?! Already? No. Not yet. Don't you even think about it." he digs his fingers in your butt cheek to push you further down on his cock, impaling you, and grabs your head with his other arm, holding you still against him as he starts to brutally pound you, making your eyes cross.

"Fuck! You're gonna make me come!" you scream.

"Hold it for me." he replies in a low grunt in between thrusts.

“Joel-” you plead in between moans.

"Not yet. Not yet."

You moan louder as your grip on his shoulders tightens and your eyes squeeze due to the pleasure.

"Hey. Eyes on me." he reminds you.

You open your eyes and your nails start scratching his skin in a desperate attempt to obey his order, making him grunt.

"I can't Joel, I can't, please-"

"Stop it. I said not yet."

“But I’m so close!” you whimper.

He sighs as he slips out of you, leaving you needy and empty, making you whine as you feel your climax fading away as you were right on the edge.

"Get up. Now."

You comply whimpering as you both get out of the tub, now in front of each other.

"On your knees." he orders, and you obey immediately.

He lets out a dark chuckle when he sees how obedient you got.

You look at him in the eyes as he grabs his cock in his hand and trails the tip on your lips, only for you to give small licks to it, tasting your arousal on it.

He pushes its tip in your mouth and you welcome it, avidly sucking it while looking at him, smirking at you. He grabs the back of your head and pushes his cock into your throat, making your eyes squeeze shut.

"What is it? What is it, huh? Acting like a badass earlier and now you can't even take it all in your throat?" he keeps your head still, cupping it in his hands, as he thrusts into your mouth getting off at how welcoming and yielding you have suddenly become. He pulls your head away from his cock and you gasp for air, your face is drenched in spit and precum and you have tears in the corners of your eyes.

"Look at me. Oh, you don't act like a badass anymore, huh? Where's that superior look you gave me during the meeting? Where is it? You looked at me from head to toe but damn, look at you now. I want to fuck you. You need to learn your place."

He kneels before you, lowering himself at your level.

"I want to fuck you." he growls articulating his words as he passes his thumb on your lips, cleaning the spit from your mouth.

“Now get up.” he orders as he pushes his thumb in your mouth and you suck it, feeling your needy cunt clench when you hear him saying those things as he looks you in the eyes.

When you stand up, he grabs your chin and kisses you rabidly and lustfully as you walk towards the bed, where he pushes you down and lays on top of you, leaning on his elbow as he grabs his cock in his hand.

“Let’s see if you still act like a badass now.” he slides his cock inside of you, smirking at the way your lips part in ecstasy and at the moan you let out, your eyes opening wide at how delighted being so full of him makes you feel.

Once he’s deep inside of you, he starts to slowly thrust in and out of you. He cups your face with his hands and gets close, so close that you can feel his hot breath on your lips.

“Can you feel how wet you are?” he whispers.

You nod, smiling at him, hearing the obscene sounds your drenched pussy makes as it helplessly sucks his thick cock in, clenching around it in ecstasy, making you roll your eyes.

When he sees that, he immediately sets a brutal, devastating pace. You’re enjoying it so much that you can’t hold back your screams and can’t even look straight anymore, your eyes squeezing shut in bliss.

"Fucking look at you. Slut. You can't even keep your eyes open." he slaps you in the face and makes you smile and clench around him, so unbelievably turned on at the humiliating way he’s treating you.

"Your dick is too good." you mumble.

"Hmm? Too good? Show me. Open your mouth."

You do, obeying his command instinctively, sticking your tongue out for him, and he spits inside. You moan provocatively as you savour his saliva in your mouth and then swallow it.

"You like being fucked and treated like the fucking whore that you are, don't you?" he grabs you by the jaw, forcing it open, bringing your face close to his and spitting in your mouth once again. You lick your lips greedily, humming and looking at him in the eyes as he treats you with such disdain.

“Enjoying this dick so much, you can’t even answer me. What would little miss strong independent woman from earlier say if she saw you now, hm? What would she say?” he goads you, but the only result he gets is you getting even wetter and louder.

He gets up on his knees in front of you as he spreads your legs to bury his cock even deeper inside of you. He grabs your arm to lift you, so that you’re now straddling his lap, his cock pleasurably rubbing against your clit as you groan helplessly. He’s holding you tight in his arms as you wrap yours around his shoulders. He passes a hand in his hair to comb his wet hair out of the way. You divert your eyes from his to admire his thick bicep as he does, biting your lip when you get a glimpse of that, but he grabs your chin.

“Look at me, fucking look at me.” he growls “Where is the thug smuggler from earlier, hm? Where is she? You wanted to look smart in front of everyone, but where are you now? Where the fuck are you now? Who the fuck do you think you are? You wanted to act bossy with me. With me. You need to learn your place when you talk to me. Understand?”

You nod as he keeps talking to you like that, beginning to feel the tingle of your orgasm between your legs.

"Come on now. Let me see how good you are at riding my dick." he smirks as he lays down on the bed so that now you’re on top, your hands on the sides of his head and his fingers digging tight into your hips. You immediately start riding him, feeling how wet you are - your arousal drenching the both of you, making everything slick and slippery and hot. You let your hips roll, feeling his cock sliding in and out of you, your clit brushing his skin, getting you on the edge of your orgasm again. You try to keep everything inside, hoping he won’t notice how fast riding his dick gets you embarrassingly close in no time.

“I can see you’re almost there. You can’t hold it anymore, can you?”

“I can’t - can’t take it anymore, Joel.” you stutter.

“I told you no. Not yet. Hold it.” he orders in a calm, low voice that has the opposite effect, getting you even closer.

“Joel, Joel, I can’t-”

He grabs your hips so that your pussy is now grinding on his cock, making it a torture to hold it in. You can tell he’s having fun with it, looking at your desperate face, hearing your pleading voice, feeling you clamp around him.

“Joel-” your hands curl into fists, grabbing the bed sheet under him out of desperation.

“No, you can’t hold it. I can see that. You can’t. You’re such a whore.” he mocks you.

"Please, please let me come." you plead him.

He smirks as he looks at you.

"Beg me."

"I beg you, Joel. I'm begging you. Please, let me come. Please, please please-"

"Begging me?" he chuckles "Couldn’t ever imagine the proud woman I saw earlier downstairs begging me to let her come. Give you a little bit of dick and look at you - a begging girl? Holy fuck, you're pathetic."

"Please, please, please" you keep chanting, even more turned on by how he's treating you.

"Fine. If you want it so much, you can have it. You can't help it, hm? You can't help coming on my dick. Let me feel how tight your little pussy gets for me. But don't you even think it’ll be over. I'm not done with you. Now come, fucking slut. Come. Come!" he snarls.

You finally let it all out and come on his dick, screaming loudly, spasming around him uncontrollably. You try to keep your eyes on him, but they can't avoid rolling up.

"Coming so fucking hard you can't even look at me. Whore." he chuckles darkly.

As the feeling of the orgasm slowly fades out, you pant and stay still to catch your breath as he keeps pounding you.

"More. Please, Joel, more." you let out in your post orgasmic haze, smiling at him, your eyes nearly closed, feeling blissful and dizzy.

"More?! You want more?!" he snickers "Aren't you an insatiable whore?"

"Don't stop fucking me, Joel. Don't stop."

"Still giving me orders, I see."

"Please, don't stop."

"So pathetic. Bet you want to come again. Do you want it?"

"Yes. Yes, please."

"Then obey me."

You nod.

"Let me see it. Let me see that beautiful pussy getting pounded by my cock."

You lean back and stand on your feet and hands, legs spread wide open to give him the best visual, just like he wants.

"Good girl. Now ride it."

You start riding it and he grabs your hips to guide you - he lets his dick slip out almost completely, only leaving the tip inside for a few seconds. You look at him, shaking and whimpering at the lack of his cock. When he hears that, his gaze goes from your pussy to your eyes, and that’s when he brings your body down, slamming it deep inside of you as he watches you throw your head back due to the pleasure of feeling so full of him once again.

"Hey. I told you to keep your eyes on me." he grabs your chin and slaps you in the face.

He keeps guiding your movements by holding you by the hips to help you move up and down in conjunction with his thrusts.

"Will you look at that? So beautiful." he starts to touch your clit with his thumb and you lose it completely, letting out a loud, breathy groan.

"How badly do you want this?"

"So. Fucking. Bad."

He keeps rubbing your clit as he thrusts into you relentlessly, until you feel your orgasm approaching once again.

Just when you're about to come, right when you’re on the edge, he stops.

"What the fuck, Joel?!" you snarl at him and he smirks in response.

"Look at the angry whore from earlier. I was wondering if she was still with us. Here. Here's your orgasm, you needy slut."

He starts rubbing your clit again, driving you over the edge in no time, making you come. He looks at your pussy spasming around his dick as you groan loudly, completely out of control.

Once the feeling fades out and you come back from your high, he puts the very same thumb he used to make you come in your mouth.

"Suck it."

You do, brushing it with your tongue, licking it clean, savoring your orgasm as he keeps railing you.

“Come on. I’m not done with you. Stand up.”

Your legs are shaky as you obey his order. He brings you to the bathroom, bending you over on the sink, in front of the mirror and immediately sticks his dick inside of you so hard that air leaves your lungs in a breathy moan and stays still.

“Fuck yourself on my cock.” he orders, his gaze locked on the mirror.

You start to move your body to obey his order and feel his dick slipping in and out of you. You bite your lip moaning provocatively as you do.

“What a fucking whore. You make me want to wreck you.”

“Please, Joel, do. Wreck me.” you plead groaning as you keep fucking yourself on his dick.

He grabs you by your hips, pushing his cock deep inside of you, and resumes the brutal pace from earlier, making you roll your eyes.

"Fuck. What now? Look at you. Look how pathetic you are when I fuck you. Look at yourself. Did you really think you could go against me like that? You looked at me with those eyes, such a strong woman. Now look at you, look at yourself in the mirror."

His dick is so good you can't even lift your head.

"I said look." he grabs you by the hair and pushes your face against the mirror.

You’re an absolute mess - wet hair sticks to your face, flustered and hot as he keeps giving you his cock.

"Where is that gaze now? Where is it?! Where is that gaze now that my cock is inside of you?! Do you like how good I’m fucking you, huh?! Your pussy is so wet, I'm going fucking insane! You are enjoying it so much, I can feel it, aren't you?! Tell me. Speak, whore."

"A-ah... Y-yes I am" you can only mumble.

"Say that you're Joel Miller's whore as you look at yourself."

"I am Joel Miller's whore." you drawl, subjugated by the way he’s dominating you, taking genuine pleasure in saying that.

He starts to rub your clit with his fingers, making you roll your eyes and smile.

"Who is making you come so fucking hard?"

"You!" you scream, on the edge of your orgasm already, panting and shaking in anticipation.

"Scream my name when you come, fucking whore."

You can only let out the first syllable of his name before it’s turned into a loud scream. He holds your hair tight in his grasp so that you’re forced to look at yourself as you come.

He grunts when he feels how tight you get for him, strangling his thick cock in your grasp.

"You can't even speak properly, you look like a completely different person from before. Don't you feel ashamed, slut?! Oh fuck, your wet pussy is making me come. Do you want it? Do you want my cum?? Speak, whore." he rasps.

"I want it. I want it, Joel. Please, I want all of your cum." you pant in bliss.

"I can't fucking take it anymore, I'm coming. I can't stop... Your pussy is so fucking perfect. I want it. I want to fill you up with my cum. I wanna put you back in your place. You won't be so daring in looking at me like that next time. Let me give you a hard lesson. I-I can't-" his voice is hot and desperate as he gets close to his own orgasm.

His grip on your hair and hip tightens and he snarls as he comes, giving you a few hard thrusts, pushing his cock deep inside of you and filling your wrecked pussy with his hot cum, pulsing and throbbing inside of you, headily panting in your ear.

He slips out of you slowly, making you look at his cum dripping out of you. He collects it with his fingers and brings it to your mouth.

“Eat it.” he orders.

You immediately welcome them into your mouth, looking at yourself in the mirror as you taste the salty bitterness of you two blended together, humming in pleasure as he pushes his digits in your mouth.

“Yeah - that's what you fucking get. Don’t you ever, ever, disrespect me like that again. I hope you did learn your place.”

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tempe-brennans · 4 months

Text

and i'd come back if you'd just call

author's note: soulmate au + apocalypse

summary: you show up in jackson and turn joel's life upside down

warnings: implied smut and handsy touching

word count: 2.7k

There’s gray in his hair. He’s sure he should feel grateful for that–especially now–and some part of him does, he supposes.

He has people.

There’s Ellie and Tommy and Maria. You.

He’s not sure exactly what to do about you.

Besides, he’s more concerned about the ache in his back and the knots in his muscles��much more important problems than the love he’s beginning to think he still feels for you or the sunflower burning on his wrist.

There’s heating pads for his muscles and pain pills for his back–concrete solutions.

You, on the other hand, you’re young and fun and something he can’t quite get his fingers around.

And, you had left him–a fact he can’t quite forget. No matter how much he’d like to.

His throat is sore, scratchy in the way that tells him he spent last night snoring. Sighing as he sits up in bed, he cracks one shoulder and then the other.

His feet don’t want to find the floor. His body doesn’t want to hide behind the curtains in his own home because he can never be sure if you can see him.

Tommy thought he was so funny, making you two neighbors.

Joel does turn, eventually, let his feet land on the too cold floor. Toes slip into slippers he’d left in reach when he’d gotten into bed last night. He reaches blindly for the faded flannel robe that’s draped over the chair in the corner of his room.

He hasn’t had time for such indulgences, too busy running–from life, monsters. Anything. Before, he simply hadn’t wanted them.

But, Ellie had presented them both–a set, though the patterns didn’t match at all–as a gift and he hadn’t been able to say no.

He’s tired of being so sharp, so tough. In his own home, at least, maybe he can rest.

Home.

The thought brings his mind back to you, against his will, and as he pours his coffee he tries to see if your lights are on.

He can’t tell. The sun is working against him. He resolves himself to the fact that he’ll run into you at some point in town, so, really, what does it matter if you see each other sooner rather than later?

Besides, he’s almost positive you aren’t sitting in windowsills, pining after him.

He sits in the recliner Tommy had insisted he just had to have and welcomes the ability to put his feet up. It’s a relic–a handle raises and lowers the foot rest–but, somehow, it still works.

Taking a drink of his coffee, he thinks.

There’s no sound in the house, something Joel still hasn’t gotten used to since Ellie moved out.

I’m 20, she had said when Joel had asked if she was sure she wanted to leave, as if that was an explanation. Besides, don’t you want your own space?

He didn’t, if she wanted to know the truth. He wanted to hear her downstairs cooking breakfast or the sound of her snoring through the crack in her bedroom door.

He knew why she had gone, though. It was the same reason he had left home the moment he turned 18.

Freedom.

So, he could understand it, even if he wasn’t entirely fond of it.

He sees her every few days anyway.

Coffee now gone, he knows his day has to start, even if the town now feels like a loaded gun is waiting around every corner. He dresses–a flannel still happily coasting between cozy and too threadbare and jeans. He cracks his front door, feels the bite of the winter wind, and shuts it firmly.

An extra jacket wouldn’t hurt.

“I’m telling you,” Joel mumbles, “she probably doesn’t even remember.”

Tommy quirks a brow. “Are you kidding?” Shaking his head, he laughs. “You spent the better half of a year together. The tattoos–”

“I don’t wanna talk about the tattoos,” Joel dismisses. “Besides,” he mutters, “it was eleven months.”

“Oh,” Tommy hums. “My mistake.”

Silence and then, “You know someone will notice, right?”

Joel tilts his head. “You see me wearing a lot of short sleeves in the winter?”

“You can’t use the weather to hide forever, bro. The minute Ellie–hell, anybody–notices the two identical sunflowers on your arms?” He shakes his head. “Secrets out.”

“Yeah?” Joel asks. “What secret is that?”

His little brother leans in, whispers, “You can still find your soulmate after the apocalypse.”

“She’s the one that left.” Joel sighs. “Obviously, she didn’t care that we were soulmates.”

“You don’t even know why she left!” Tommy exclaims, exasperated.

Joel quirks a brow. “Somehow I haven’t had a lot of time, what with the apocalypse and all.”

His brother claps him on the shoulder. “You’ve got nothing but time now.”

Joel walks the streets of Jackson, spitting snow beginning to fall around him.

Maybe Tommy is right. It’s not like Joel doesn’t have some extra time on his hands, a strange concept after the last twenty years, he has to admit.

Maybe he should take advantage of it.

It’s that thought that’s rattling around in his brain when he collides with someone else.

“Sorry!” He reaches out, blindly, tries to catch the person or their belongings–something. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” a voice says. It’s a voice he’s never forgotten–couldn’t forget, even if he wanted to–and he kicks himself that this is the way he’d run into you again.

Literally.

“It was really,” you stand, catch sight of his face for the first time, “my fault.”

He’s older now, grayer and a little softer around the edges, but, still, he can see the moment recognition lights on your features.

“Joel?”

He nods, suddenly sheepish. For once, his mind is completely blank. It can’t begin to come up with an adequate greeting for an old flame that, maybe, still burns somewhere behind his rib cage. He settles on an all too casual, “Hi.”

You smile, a soft thing. “Hi.”

On instinct it seems, you take a step closer and hug him. Though it’s been years, the feeling of you pressed against him, your arms around him, it’s familiar.

He wants to hate it, but he doesn’t. Not even a little.

He barely resists the urge to press a kiss to your forehead, take a minute to inhale your scent, before you pull away.

“S’nice to see you.”

Joel nods. “You, too.” Somewhere between the truth and a lie.

“Your hair, it’s…softer,” you murmur.

“Yeah?” Joel reaches up, runs an idle hand through it. “Haven’t had a lot of time for haircuts, I guess.” He shrugs. “I kinda got used to it.”

You nod. “It’s been a long time.”

Joel quirks a brow. “Whose fault was that?”

It’s too sharp, too biting, and he can see the results flash across your face.

Shaking your head, you glare at him, blow out a breath. “I should have known you hadn’t changed.”

You turn on your heel, away from him, and he wants to reach out, tell you he’s sorry, but something won’t let him.

He thinks it’s his heart.

“I’ve changed plenty!” He calls after your shrinking form. “Changed enough to know I should stay away from you.”

You look over your shoulder–just for a second–long enough to cut him to the core. “The feeling is mutual!”

He sighs and continues on his own path, towards his own lonely house, entirely too close to you for comfort.

“So.” Ellie sighs. “That went well.”

Joel chuckles, rolls his eyes. “You think?”

“We can fix it,” she says, sitting on the couch closest to him. “It’ll be fine.”

“Sure about that?,” he asks. “It’s not a leaky sink, you know.”

Her eyes light up in the very particular way that tells Joel she’s had an idea he won’t be fond of.

He’s suddenly nervous.

“That’s it,” she exclaims.

“What’s it?”

Ellie leaves the room, obviously in search of something, and ignores him.

“Ellie,” he calls after her. “Ellie, what’s it?”

It’s her scheming that puts him on your porch, in fact, toolbox in hand and looking for something to fix.

Real or fake, it hadn’t really mattered to Ellie.

He should never have told her he had been a contractor.

The door opens and you glare at him, unsurprisingly.

“What do you want?”

He spits it out, before he can change his mind, run back home and hide.

“I’m sorry for earlier.” He shakes his head. “You left…before. And, I was angry and seeing you again…” He trails off, settles on simplicity. “I’m sorry.”

Something in your face softens as you step aside to let him in.

“I’m sorry for leaving, you know.”

You take him off guard, turn his pulse to a gallop.

“I was…I was afraid,” you murmur, skipping over his own apology in a way that’s entirely you.

Of course it’s the way you’d let him know things are okay.

“I should have told you that, though, instead of disappearing.”

He nods, swallows down a memory he doesn’t exactly want to relive right now, whispers, “It’s okay.”

You nod, smile at him. “You want a drink? Some food?”

He nods, places the toolbox in the floor next to your couch.

“That’d be nice.”

Joel isn’t sure how long the two of you have been talking–minutes or hours. Maybe days. Easy familiarity settles over the pair of you, and things are like they used to be.

He’s glad for it.

“Were there others?” Joel asks, words slipping out before he can stop them.

It’s the question that he somehow desperately wants the answer to and also never wants to hear.

You nod. “A few.” But, then, “None like you.”

It’s more honest than he expected, like your heart has opened to him once again.

You’re vulnerable. He knows you hate that.

“That makes sense.” He nods, rising to his feet, hand curling around the handle of his toolbox, imagining you want him to take his leave. “I’m pretty unforgettable.”

You laugh, look at him with something he would have called affection, once upon a time. “Yeah, you are, Miller.”

Something buzzes inside of him at the knowledge he can still make you laugh, even after everything, and he ducks his head, starts to head for the door.

“Joel?”

He turns, finds apprehension on your features.

He aches to set you at ease.

“Yeah?”

“Could you…would it…” You shake your head, shoulders squaring like you’re heading into a fight. “Would you want to stay? The night? With…with me.”

In a minute, he forgets it all. The pain and heartache and anger disappears with one look at your eyes.

“Yes.”

Simple–the way it’s always been between the two of you.

You crawl on top of him in a way he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t imagined over the years.

His hands find a resting place on either of your hips, squeeze the flesh there lightly.

“Hi,” you murmur, grin on your face.

“Hi.” He smiles.

It’s different when you’re with your soulmate.

Joel had been with others, sure.

Tess comes to mind, but he quickly shakes the thought away–along with the memory of her death.

But, every time, even when stars popped up behind his eyelids and warmth erupted through his every limb, it wasn’t what it had been with you.

The best way he could think to describe it was…more.

As you lean down, press a kiss to his lips, he finally admits to himself how much he’d missed it. You.

Joel feels you pull away and squeezes you closer. “Where you goin’?,” he mumbles, already half asleep.

“Shirt,” you whisper.

He shakes his head, nuzzles his nose into the hollow of your throat.

Chuckling softly, you say, “S’winter, Joel.”

He holds you even closer–if that’s possible. “I’ll keep you warm.” Then, just to tease, fingers dance over your hip bone, inches from the crux of your thighs. “Any way you want.”

“Joel…”

“Or, are you too old for this game?” He hums, getting a rise out of you too tempting to ignore. “You get soft on me while you were away?”

Your own hand–cold from it’s trip beyond the faded quilt that covers you both–dances along the soft skin of his stomach, curls around his still too sensitive length. He jumps, hisses out a breath, interest already simmering at the base of his spine.

“I can still play,” you purr. “Can you?”

Your hand works him over, languid strokes finding a pattern that makes his skin buzz.

Joel rises, mouth desperate to find yours.

He’s always liked to be kissed–especially by you, especially when you’re touching him the way you are.

You indulge him, lips parting to let his tongue tangle with your own. He can’t help but grin into the kiss.

In the morning, he wakes alone. Part of him isn’t shocked. Part of him is heartbroken all over again.

Quickly, he gets dressed–avoiding mirrors with the hopes of missing any evidence you’d left behind of the night before.

He goes to Tommy’s, doesn’t even look towards your house as he walks down the street.

“You’ve been in love before.” Tommy shrugs. “Maybe it could happen again. Nothing says you have to be with your soulmate.”

Joel hadn’t thought about it when he’d fallen in love with Sarah’s mother.

He hadn’t had much choice, if he’s honest. One look at her and he had been done for.

So, the fact she didn’t have a sunflower on the soft skin of her forearm wasn’t of much consequence. The fact she had her own tattoo–purple dahlia petals curling around her own wrist–had never mattered to her either.

They had shared a life and love and had turned that love into something that lived outside of them.

Sarah.

It was only a few months after she was born that Joel had woken up alone to the sound of Sarah’s crying.

He had adjusted, though. The two of them had made a team and found happiness all on their own.

Until…well, Joel didn’t really like to think about that day–that last day. He preferred to imagine her laughing, head thrown back in joy.

“I know,” he murmurs. He adds, almost under his breath, “I don’t think I want to fall in love. Not if it’s not with her.”

Tommy ducks his head, sheepish all of a sudden.

“What is it?”

“I promised I wouldn’t tell you.”

He leans forward, insistent. “Tommy, what is it?”

“She told Maria that she was…thinking of leaving Jackson.”

Joel is off Tommy’s couch and out the door before Tommy can ask where he’s going.

Joel suspects he knows.

His knocks are incessant, barely a pause between them.

“C’mon,” he murmurs to himself. “Please don’t be gone.”

The door opens, shocking Joel, and he almost falls through it.

“You can’t leave Jackson,” he pants. There’s an ache in his side, a pulling at muscles that scream with use more often than they don’t these days. He’s certain he shouldn’t have run to make sure he caught you.

You shake your head, hands coming to rest on either side of his face.

It’s a gesture full of affection and hope ignites in his gut.

“I’m not leaving,” you murmur.

Joel’s tongue is heavy, suddenly too thick to form a reply. “You…you’re not?”

“No.” Gently, your thumb rubs back and forth over his cheekbone. “I thought of something to stick around for.”

“Yeah?” Joel hums. “What’s that?”

“You.”

Joel feels the heat flush his cheeks. The emotions he really feels are too much–too real–so, he settles for a joke.

“That makes sense.” He nods. “I’m pretty unforgettable.”

“Yeah.” You laugh, duck your head for a minute before your eyes meet his again. “Yeah, you are, Miller.”

Later that night, with most of your closet mingled with his own, he pulls you close to him in bed. His lips ghost over your forehead and an arm wraps around your side.

He glances down at his wrist, takes in the bright yellows of the sunflower petals. With gentle fingers, he finds your wrist, brings it to his mouth and kisses the yellow of your own petals.

There’s gray in his hair, but, right now, he couldn’t feel more grateful for it.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller fic #rebeccawrites

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cupid-styles · 7 months

Text

halloween plans

a halloween blurb based on you're my last shot !!

in which a pregnant y/n doesn't like harry very much, except they're having a baby together and for some reason, he wants to celebrate halloween with her.

word count: 1.3k

content warnings: baby talk/pregnant y/n

masterlist | talk to me

halloween/fall blurb masterlist

. . .

"But—"

"No, Harry."

"What if—"

"No."

"Y/N, you're not even listening to me!"

"Because I'm four months pregnant! Why would I want to go to a Halloween party at Niall's house when I can't even drink?"

She huffs, leaning her head against the glass of the passenger's side window as Harry drives them back from her 17 week sonogram. Halloween is a week away, and Y/N has no plans besides answering the door for trick-or-treaters and eating the leftover candy while she watches Hocus Pocus. She's not surprised that Harry has plans to celebrate that evening — she'd expected as much — but she is surprised that he's attempting to wrangle her into them.

"I won't drink, either," Harry replies with a shrug, as if he's implying how easy it is to be pregnant (it's not, and Y/N realized that about four weeks in when her morning sickness started happening every afternoon). "It wouldn't be fair of me if I made you come along and I got piss drunk anyway."

"You have no idea how annoying it is to be around drunk people when you're sober," Y/N grumbles, thinking back to last week when their friends insisted she come out for Josette's birthday. Within an hour, she was exhausted, her ankles were swollen, and she was ready to go home.

"It's our last Halloween not being parents. Don't you think we should at least try to enjoy ourselves? Besides, what were you gonna do? Sit at home on your couch all night?"

She reaches over to smack his arm and he immediately whines, making her roll her eyes.

"There's nothing wrong with sitting at home on Halloween, you jerk. My neighborhood gets a lot of trick-or-treaters and I already bought three bags of candy."

"Didn't you show up to Ni's basically in lingerie last year? I'm pretty sure I watched you destroy an entire tray of orange Jell-O shots."

Y/N scoffs, but she knows he's right — her tongue was orange for two days afterwards.

"I was dressed as a bunny," she mutters, crossing her arms over her chest. He's turning onto her street as she strokes her fingertips over the crease of her small baby bump, an involuntary habit she picked up as soon as she started showing.

"How about this," Harry pulls up outside of her house and she resists the urge to roll her eyes again, "We'll give out candy for a few hours and then we'll head to Niall's after. That way, we both do what we wanna do and we celebrate our last kid-less Halloween."

She's not sure why he's so insistent that they spend it together — up until now, neither of them have ever cared for the other — but if that's the best solution they can come up with and it shuts Harry up, it'll suffice.

"Fine. But if you drink even a sip of alcohol, I'm taking an Uber home."

. . .

Y/N feels ridiculous.

Ever since she developed a bump, she's had an increasingly tough time finding clothes to wear. Her self-esteem lowers ever so slightly every time she goes to pull on a pair of pants and they don't button, and it often annoys her when people stare at her stomach through a tee-shirt or sweater when she's just out trying to run errands. Being pregnant is so public and she's sure that her discomfort is constantly apparent — especially as she stares at herself in the mirror, a red top just fitting around her bump and a pair of devil horns tucked into her hair.

She glances down at her phone on the bathroom counter, the screen lighting up with a text from Harry that says here. She sighs and shuffles out of the room, flicking the light off before shimmying a pair of pajama shorts up and over her lower half. She hasn't even attempted to find comfortable pants to wear this evening, and now that Harry's seen her sprawled out on a medical table at the gynecologist... well, it's fair to say that she cares just a little bit less when he thinks.

When she opens the door, he's standing on her doorstep, torso bare except for a fringe vest and a cowboy hat on his head. It's actually so ridiculous — her hormones are raging and she swears she's never been so attracted to someone before, but she wants to crumble into tears at how hot he looks and how awful she feels about her own appearance.

"You can't wear that to hand candy out to kids." is her only response as she turns on her heel, leaving the door open for Harry to let himself in. She hears his footsteps behind her and she plops down on the couch, cradling her belly as she lays back.

"You look cute," Harry grins, pointing to the devil headband atop of her head, "I hope you're not planning on birthing the antichrist, though."

She rolls her eyes and watches as he grabs a Reese's from the top of the candy bowl. She wants to smack his hand away, but she doesn't have the energy to get up and scold him.

"You don't have to lie about it, I hate this stupid outfit. Everything's too tight on me and I hate showing my bump. And I can't even look sexy for a Halloween party 'cos it's weird for a pregnant woman to show up half-naked."

Harry chuckles as he sits down next to her, "I'm not lying. I'm sorry you're feeling uncomfortable, though. Why don't we go get some maternity clothes for you this week?"

She shrugs, even though her heart warms a bit at the suggestion. She'd already been planning on doing that, and she thinks that it's sweet that Harry offers to accompany her.

"Aren't you cold in that?" Y/N asks, a frown on her face as she nudges her chin in the direction of his torso.

"Eh. Not too bad."

"I think you just like showing off. Probably wanna seduce all the moms in the neighborhood."

He laughs, "Why would I wanna do that when I have the hottest MILF to-be with me?"

"Shut up," she grumbles, though she feels her face warm at his teasing, "You're so lucky you don't have to carry this stupid little thing."

"Don't call our baby a stupid little thing," he immediately scolds. "They're the size of a bell pepper this week. Did you know that?"

"Fine. You're so lucky you don't have to carry this stupid little bell pepper."

A cackle falls from his lips this time, shaking his head. "I am, and you know I'm eternally grateful that you're carrying them."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Can you grab me a Kit-Kat?"

As he rifles through the candy bowl, she grabs the TV remote to turn on a movie while they wait for the doorbell to ring. They sit there in silence, munching on the treats she bought for trick-or-treaters (Harry recalls her claiming that her neighborhood is a hot spot for them, though no one's rang the doorbell since he arrived) and watching Practical Magic on cable.

Y/N doesn't even realize how long they've been sitting there and soon enough, she's nodding off. Her head lulls to the side, the devil horns attached to her head accidentally poking Harry in the arm. He yelps in his typical whiney way and Y/N grumbles as she blinks her eyes open. When she realizes what he's complaining about, she pulls the headband out of her hair and tosses it on the coffee table.

"Sorry. Any trick-or-treaters come?"

"Mm, quite a few," Harry lies, knowing she'll be disappointed if she finds out there weren't any. He clears his throat as he watches her curl into the side of the couch, pulling a soft throw blankets over her body, "Actually, Y/N, do you mind if we skip Niall's? I'd feel bad if we left all those kids hanging."

In reality, it's nearing 10 pm, and there aren't any trick-or-treaters out anymore. Niall's party is probably in full swing at this point — but Harry's soft, and he's especially soft for Y/N, who's tired and snuggly and never wanted to go out to begin with.

"That's fine," she murmurs, her voice already thick with sleep. He smiles to himself as she nuzzles into the pumpkin-shaped pillow on her couch, her eyes already falling shut again.

And he'll never admit to her, but if this is how he spends his last Halloween without a kid... well, he's not too mad about it.

#writing #harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #one direction

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normansnt · 3 months

Text

Even

(Hazbin Rozie x soft!male reader.)

No warnings (not proof read)

You tried to tiptoe as quietly as possible through your and your wives house. You didn't know that the trail of blood you were leaving would give you away in the morning anyways.

"You're home late" you heard the lovely voice of your dear wife while she sat on the sofa and turned on the light on the small table besides it.

You exhaled through your nose.

"Yeaahhh..." was all you could get out of

When Rosie took in your form more carefully she saw the beaten state you were in.

"Oh dear, what happened to you" she sounded more sympathetic now and rushed to your side to help you sit down

"Hahh, you should see the other guy...he got out without a scratch it was honestly pretty impressive" you said with honest astonishment.

You have been getting into fights at bars lately...a lot. Why? Well the answer was rather easy really, your wife was the Rosie. A powerful overlord in hell and leader of cannibal town. She was powerful, strong, cunning, smart and most of all feared because of those qualities.

And you...well, you weren't weak not by any means but you were just...soft, to put it lightly. While other boys fought you enjoyed chasing a butterfly. You were a very kind soul and opted to see the good in people. You were a fallen angel, after all.

When you met Rosie you were the same dork you are now, you just liked to draw and she is very beautiful so you asked if you could draw her. Thats how you two met 10 years ago.

As time passed by, you fell in love with her, however you would have never guessed that a powerful woman like herself would fall for someone like you. Alas she did and after some time being together you got married.

Since Rosie was quite the public figure, people, of course, knew about your engagement and they had their own opinions, mostly bad ones.

The people of cannibal town thought Rosie deserved someone tough, not to protect her she can do that to, but to match her, to be her equal.

And you thought so too. It was a true wonder why she was still with you, really.

"(Y/N)"

The powerful voice of your beloved got you out of your thoughts.

"*sigh* are you thinking about what others are saying again?" She questioned looking at you sadly.

You looked away ashamed.

"My love" she slowly put her hand on your cheek and made you look at her.

"I have told you countless times but I wont stop until you get it into your head. I.Love.You their opinions do not matter, especially when they dont know you like I do, for if they did they would know that you have the strongest heart I have ever witnessed, you might not like fights and blood spill but I know for a fact that when its really needed you will step up, and thats what really matters." She smiled at you kindly.

"Also, I like violence plenty so we make the perfect pair" she grinned at you manically.

You really didn't know how you got so lucky as to have such an amazing wife. You let out a chuckle and kissed her.

"Thank you" you smiled lightly

"Of course dear, now go wash up and lets go to bed I'm tired" she said exhausted while she stood up and walked to your shared bedroom.

You smiled to yourself, sure you weren't a big fan of violence but you hat a cannibal as a wife, you guys kinda evened each other out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yall I know I said Id proof read tham and than post but I LOVE this one so much its short but so good😭

ALSO, ROSIE IS NOT TALKED ABOUT ENOUGH LIKE I LOVE HER SM ROSIE PLS MARRY ME😖

ANYWAYS

I hope you enjoyed your reading ladies, gentleman and others, good afternoon good evening and good night🧡🦖

#male reader #hazbin x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x male reader #hazbin rosie

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forecast0ctopus · 2 months

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Any advice on drawing McCoy? I’m not used to drawing ancient wrinkley bastards (affectionate) and it’s surprisingly tough v-v

FOR SURE lmao i made. a diagram. just a warning that i am going to be irritating and long winded because u just hit a topic i really like sorry lmao

so first off i did some traces just to show whats there vs redraws to show my interpretation

ive said this on other asks but again jsyk, tracing isnt bad!! its a tool. theres some stuff with intellectual property and whatnot but using tracing to study shapes and forms is a really valuable practice.

also just taking some time to learn facial structures and anatomy is super useful, reading what bones and muscles are where and how they interact with one another. taking this info and staring in the mirror and moving your face around and thinking about it. just really furthers understanding of how the face works. trying to sound normal about this but i love anatomy and motion and physics and whatever

anyways im going to go through all the numbered points so there's no confusion. 1. forehead lines - self explanatory. more prominent when brows are raised 2. crows feet - at the outer corners of the eyes, more prominent when smiling or squinting 3. nasolabial folds - the folds that go from the corners of the nose to the corners of the mouth. more prominent when the mouth is wide, like smiling 4. brow furrow - self explanatory, most prominent when brows are furrowed. mccoy tends to have two right next to his eyebrows, kirk has one in the middle. everyones face works different lmao 5. chin crease - caused by how the chin and lower lip interact. 6. nasojugal groove - start from the inner corners of the eye and can extent over the cheeks. everyone has these and idk why people dont like them i think theyre really cool!!!! but Society. i guess. :/ 7. eye bags - caused by the skin sagging beneath the eyes. mccoy isnt even that old in tos i think hes meant to be mid 40s by the end of the 5 year mission, hes just got really prominent eye bags lmao 8. idk what the name is for these, but when the mouth is wide and pushes the skin to the sides, these folds sometimes form outside of the nasolabial folds 9. philtrum - the groove above the upper lip. i dont usually draw this but mccoy's struck me as prominent enough that i usually draw it on him 10. masseter - the muscle that moves the jaw up and down. its a pretty rugged muscle and while i wouldnt say mccoy's is especially prominent, it kind of extends that nasojugal groove from certain angles/positions 11. orbicularis oris - mouth muscle, usually easier to see when lips are pursed or frowns are pulled. mccoy's is pretty prominent from 3/4ths or side, his mouth tends to protrude in profile 12. this isnt a muscle but more of a line defining the planes of the face, but since i drew it i felt i should explain lmao

a few points:

im an animator i tend to exaggerate and emphasize certain things so i usually make him more square.

i like to combine eyebags and crows feet for brevity/flow, same with nasojugal grooves, eyebags, and masseter lines. my approach is always subject to change based on pose, expression, reference image, etc.

i take out details that i deem redundant or cluttering and keep what details i need to make things feel Right

all this info is applicable to any character of any age, its just in how you apply it and facial proportions that willl change how old a character is perceived to be

there's a lot more with drawing a Character rather than an Actor, just because the features are there doesnt necessarily mean things will feel correct? its very much in the mannerisms and poses and expressions

i only went over my approach to his likeness but not really body type or posing or anything idk if u want that i could always try to answer that later haha

_______________

anyways all that info kind of exists nebulously in my brain while i draw its not like im sitting there thinking Must Draw. Nasolabial Fold...... i jsut do what feels right with the visual info i have. also i love specificity in faces.... i dont like to be a hater but when every character is drawn the same it pisses me off a little lmao. so

also dont take my word as The Only Way to do anything i just draw how i like to draw and no one should feel like these are things that Must be done to be a good artist or anything do whatever the hell u wanna do

#anyways my apologies that was. a lot #it will happen again if asked of me.#anon #ask #everyone has this stuff going on with their face and its really cool but capitalism and the beauty industry and whatnot #have been rotting peoples brains since the moment they came to be #the more u look at and appreciate how ur skin an muscles and bones interact with one another the more fine u are with your own face #trust me #because its really cool. like mechanically and stuff #idk if its like theraputic or something but maybe it is or maybe i think about it all way too much #how i draw #ive got some other similar things under that tag i think pertaining to merlin but still similar info

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goldenlikedayl1ght · 3 months

Text

we're in love - m. murdock

a/n: hi guys not dead just played a LOT of baldurs gate over break and now im back ay college with matt murdock brainrot this ones been floating around the old noggin a while. sorry. likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! <3 warnings: DEAD DOVE with a happy ending, hard of hearing reader, cannon typical marvel violence, probably badly written violence, matt being upset, once again im tired and sleepy and bad at doing warnings, reader gets kidnapped TWICE, reader has superpowers, reader is TECHNICALLY a hybrid but literally just in the way that she has small antlers and deer like abilities (strength, jump height), fucked up experiments, ANGST ANGST ANGST, memory loss trope but like... the one from the hunger games. matt is hopelessly in love with reader, reader wants to kill matt, kissing, implied sexual ideas, cursing. SHAMELESS USE OF REAL OR NOT REAL FROM THG, reader having anxiety, and allusions of sex. word count: 7.1k summary: when your past finally catches up to you, matt truly learns what 'in sickness and in health' means. pairing: matt murdock x hoh!wife!reader now playing: we're in love - boygenius "will you still love me if it turns out I'm insane?/i know what you'll say/but it helps to hear you say it anyway."

Falling in love with Matt Murdock was the easy part.

Falling back in love with him was the tough bit.

You had spent the years leading up to meeting him as a boxer turned vigilante— Your dad had taught you how to fight young, which led to a lot of trouble at school until he eventually started helping you enter teenage fights against your mom’s wishes.

It’s how you paid for college.

And then, after your college experience, you lose control. It was never supposed to happen the way it did. You had lost a fight and stole the guy’s motorcycle in defiance. But the roads were wet from an early snow and people of New York never knew how to drive.

Just like that, the nerves in your hands were shot. The accident got your hearing too since you got sick from the cold after your accident. The infection got so bad that it took the hearing from your left ear—And half from your right.

For months, you thought you’d never gain control of your hands again, snapping from a promising young fighter to a deaf and shaky temp. You were miserable. Fighting was your everything for so long.

And then The Doctor found you.

No, not the alien from the British television show, but a man who promised you your old life back. He found you while you were at your lowest and realized that you would do anything for your old life back.

He said in exchange for your old life, all you would have to do would be a test subject for a harmless new drug he was testing out.

You were so enamored by the idea of your old life that you had decided to take him up on his offer, so you were whisked away upstate with a group of other people desperate enough to try this experiment out.

Every morning you were given a shot of blue liquid into your arm, and then, you were to preform a series of tasks to record your progress. After three weeks you grew frustrated that you had seen no progress. You spent most of your time asking people to talk into your right ear and becoming mad at The Doctor.

About a month in, you started growing antlers.

At first, you freaked out. Like, truly, screamed and yelled, wanting an explanation. The Doctor celebrated, telling you this was great news—And to prove it, he had you pick up a pen and write a sentence out. Your hands didn’t shake and did everything you told them to do.

On top of the antlers and the newfound control of your nerves, you were strong—Fast, too. You could jump twelve-foot walls. The Doctor was obsessed with you. While other patients died off from whatever drugs you were being given, you were thriving.

At the end of your three-month stay, you were excited to leave and head back to your life. You’d just have to wear beanies everywhere to hide your antlers, you told yourself. A small price to pay.

But The Doctor wouldn’t let you leave.

How could he, he asked you, when you were his best test subject?

Being a prisoner was a lot worse than you thought it would be. Day in and day out, you were trained to be a soldier, you think. Fighting various guards, doing different athletic tests. The serum hadn’t fixed your hearing, but it had given you all of these gifts.

Until The Doctor became cruel.

He gave the guards these batons that had shock currents at the end of them, instructing them to use it whenever you talked back or underperformed. For months you struggled through days of electric shocks and experiments.

One night, a guard slipped into your cell, expecting you to be an easy target. You quickly showed him differently, knocking him out and stealing his weapons. And then, you ran. You ran until your feet bled—No shoes.

An old woman who had retired upstate welcomed you into her small cabin and fed you, never asking about the small antlers growing out of your head. She simply gave you a warm knit cap and a pair of boots for the cold.

You remember eating chili with her as she told you about her deceased husband. You changed your last name to theirs, knowing The Doctor would find you if you kept going by your name. You stayed with her for a weekend, coming back from gathering firewood to The Doctor’s men there, having killed the kind old woman and on the hunt for you. You stole her car and never looked back.

The next few weeks after that had been full of killing various soldiers and armies that The Doctor had sent after you, until you eventually pushed The Doctor off a building, believing to have killed him for good.

And that was that.

You went on with your life as usual, finding a permanent job as a secretary. In a law office.

Which, of course, is where you met Matt.

With Matt, you never felt the need to hide who you were. Of course, it was a lot easier to tell him that some mad scientist had infected you with a drug that turned you into a deer hybrid when he told you that he was Daredevil.

And with time, some of the effects of the serum began to fizzle out. Strength, Agility, Antlers—Those stayed. The control over your hands didn’t. But you made peace with that. Physical Therapy twice a week and hearing aids helped.

Especially because early Sunday mornings were filled with Matt running his fingers through your hair, running his pointer finger along the curves of your antlers. He takes your hands and kisses your fingertips as they shake, hushing you softly when you start crying as he does.

He spars with you and spends nights running around New York City with you, jumping from rooftop to rooftop.

He tells you about Elektra, Stick, his dad, and Fisk.

One day, when you feel safe enough, wrapped up in his arms and a layer of blankets as snow falls against the windows, you tell him about The Doctor. You explain to him your nightmares, and why they will never go away.

He kisses away your tears and promises he’ll never let anything happen to you.

When he asks you to marry him, you don’t hesitate to say yes. There’s not a moment where you regret that decision. You insist to get married in the summer, during the short month where your antlers shed before they grow back. He agrees happily, just wanting you to be happy.

You’ve been married for about five months when you start to think about kids. You’ve been married six when you realize the worst possible scenario is your reality—When vials of blue serum show up at your front door with a note scribbled out—

‘My Best Test Subject,

I cannot wait to catch up with you soon.

-The Doctor’

You call Matt in a panic, begging him to come home and be with you. He obliges and holds you as you calm down. He promised to love you in sickness and in health, and that is what he fully intends to do.

This is the story of the greatest challenge that your marriage would face.

• • •

After the note you had received, you almost exclusively traveled with Matt. Even for just a casual stroll, a walk to the deli or home from work, He was there with you. He knew you could handle yourself, but you felt safer with him close by.

But Matt’s senses were never as focused when it rained, especially on nights like today. The rain pours, it almost stings against his skin. And it’s loud. You don’t have your hearing aids in, so they catch you both by surprise.

It all happens too fast—

In an instant, Matt is being pulled off your arm and slammed against the closest brick alley, and when he hears the click of a gun behind him, he realizes what’s happening. He tries to fight, but before he can make any process, someone is swinging that gun against his head, and when he wakes up, he’s all alone.

He calls out to you and gets no response other than thunder rumbling from miles away. He is filled with nothing but a rage, a determination to find you.

He scrambles for his phone and uses it to call Karen.

“I need you to get Frank.” He tells her, “Please. I.. I don’t know what happened, but.. He took her, I need.. Karen, I need to find her.” He tells her.

Frank is on his way to New York within the hour.

• • •

When you wake up, your arms are strapped behind your back in some sort of metal contraption. You can feel the ache in your hands, indicating that you had fought against whoever brought you here. The room is quiet. A small cot in one corner, but the rest of the room is barren.

You’re wearing white pants and a gray muscle tee, with no shoes. You’re suddenly thankful you left your wedding ring at home, so that it might not end up in his hands.

You wait a while, and then the door opens. The Doctor, flanked by two men in heavy armor, holding those batons you’re all too acquainted with, steps into the room. You simply stare, but The Doctor looks like a child on Christmas morning.

But there’s something else to his appearance. His left eye is this bright yellow, and his pupil is a different shape. Green scales travel up his neck and coat the bottom right half of his face, and down his arms, reaching his fingertips. He looks like a monster, but you quickly realize what has happened.

Whatever serum gave you your abilities, was given to him. Only, his was made from that of snakes, not deer.

“My beautiful creation!” He gasps and takes your face in his hand, planting a kiss to your head, right between your antlers. “It’s been too long, you know.” His ‘s’ sounds are elongated, and his teeth are sharper. He has become destroyed by his own mad endeavors. When you don’t respond to his greeting, he continues to speak. “It’s been an eventful few years for you, huh?” When this doesn’t get a response from you, he stands up straight and backs up just a foot. “New job, new name… New husband.” Your head snaps up at that. “What? You think I haven’t been keeping tabs on you and the boy? What do you call him, then? Matthew or Daredevil?”

Your eyes grow wide, unsure how he knows about your husband’s secret hobby.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” You spit, your gaze hardening into a glare.

“Don’t I? You make quite the couple. The little deaf doe and her crime fighting blind husband.” He laughs, “And they say I like a project.”

“You won’t touch him or I swear to god—”

“Little doe, you misunderstand. I want nothing to do with your husband. I just want you to be the good subject I know you can be.” He tells you. “You and I are the only of our kind. I want to study you, replicate you.”

“You’re going to kidnap more people.”

“You weren’t kidnapped, you volunteered.”

“I won’t do whatever it is you want me to do.” You tell him. “I don’t care, I will escape, I will kill you.”

He shakes his head, taking one of the batons from the guards, before hitting you across the face with it. You groan in pain, turning your head back to glare at him. He sighs.

“I didn’t want to have to do this. But I did anticipate that Husband of yours interrupting things.” He hands the baton back to the guard before telling him. “Take her down the hall and get her ready, alright?”

You struggle your way down the hall, refusing to do whatever is coming to you without a fight. When the guards uncuff you to strap you to this big dentist looking chair, you manage to get out of the grasp of the guard, swinging a punch on him but this newfound advantage is short lived, as the other guard quickly grabs your arms and pushes you against the chair. You’re yelling and thrashing but they manage to get your arms and legs strapped down to the chair.

Your heartbeat is racing, and quietly, only in your mind, you beg. But not for mercy. Not from The Doctor. You beg Matt to come find you. Because you know that you do not stand a chance on your own, but maybe he could find you. He had to find you.

The Doctor sits in a chair next to you and holds up a small purple vial.

“This is hallucinogenic snake venom, mixed with a duller version of the serum we gave you. What this will do is allow me to go into your memories and alter them.” He explains as if you’re getting a simple procedure done. Tears fill your eyes.

“You’re going to make me forget him?” You ask, your voice breaking.

The Doctor hushes you softly, wiping your tears softly.

“Oh, no, little doe. I’m going to change what you do remember about him to make you hate him.”

• • •

Six months is a long time to be without your wife. For anyone, no matter who it is.

For Matt Murdock, it’s absolute torture. He spends all day half paying attention to his work while trying to research who The Doctor is. He spends all night trying to find you.

Frank lives, breathes, eats and sleeps to find you. He’s still technically a wanted man, so he pretty much stays under the radar as he looks for you. You remind him of a lot of guys he knew in the army, of himself.

Karen busies herself with research, looking through cases of old files at The Bulletin to try and see if there are any tips or stories that could maybe be connected to where you are. She gets about as little sleep as Matt.

And Foggy has the most important job of all.

Making sure Matt doesn’t kill himself in the process of trying to find you. Because for the first two months Matt didn’t sleep, hardly ate. And as he deteriorated, Foggy reminded him that to find you, he’d need to stay alive. He needs to shower, he needs to keep going to church, he needs to keep eating. The thought of hearing your heartbeat again keeps him going.

It’s as they’re packing up to go home one night that Frank comes into the office with blood-stained hands. They all know he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t have something, so Karen asks first.

“What? What is it?”

“Buddy of mine found a file. Some private medicinal corporation funding a project for some sort of doctor doing cancer research, upstate.”

The location peaks Matt’s interest, because one of the few things he knows of your first experience is that the lab was in upstate New York.

“Okay, but—” Karen starts, but Frank hands her the file.

“Report shows the guy had scales.” He told her. “And I don’t know what you guys make of that but sounds to me like a side effect similar to the serum that was given to her.”

“Where?” Matt asks.

“Red, just—”

“Give me a god damn address, Frank.” He demands.

“I’ll drive you. Come on, things are probably gonna get wild and I don’t want you going alone.” He told him. Matt agrees, but only because he knows he can’t drive and would wind up walking to you.

“Then let’s go.” Before Frank can argue, Matt is walking out the door and going to get suited up for the journey ahead.

• • •

Daredevil is my enemy.

Matt Murdock hates me.

I hate him.

We were never really in love with each other.

These are the thoughts that echo through your mind as you wait for your next round of testing. The six-month mark is pivotal, The Doctor tells you time and time again.

Overall, you’ve made tremendous progress. He tells you that within weeks, other serums will be ready to test on new subjects. Maybe then, he tells you, he’ll promote you from just being a soldier.

Maybe.

You almost don’t hear the alarm going off somewhere in the distance. Of course, you don’t. The serum has never helped your hearing.

The way you remember it, Daredevil, a man who once claimed to love you, fought you to the point that he destroyed the nerves in your hands, destroyed your hearing. It’s fuzzy now, but you know this: The Doctor helped you. He put you back together.

But you do hear the alarm, eventually. It concerns you; it means someone has broken into the building. Your thoughts linger on the masked vigilante that haunts your nightmare. You’re getting stronger to defeat him, The Doctor says.

It’s a cool summer night when whoever it is broke in, breaks down your door. You immediately stand, quickly identifying Frank Castle, a grin breaking across your face. Closely behind, you identify a man in red.

Your heartbeat races, but you just stare at the pair.

Matt strips off his helmet and approaches you, wanting to make sure this was real. That you were real. His hands find your cheeks, and tears fill his eyes. He says your name gently.

“I found you, I’ve got you…”

You blink, unsure of what sort of cruel teasing that was.

Because in an instant, your glare hardens and you’re pushing him against a wall, starting to throw punches at him. He’s too far in shock to react, but Frank is pulling you off of him, and you’re struggling against him.

“Let me go! I need to kill him! He’s evil, he needs to die!” You cry, and Matt is just saying your name softly, in absolute disarray. What had they done to you, his sweet girl?

Frank pins you down to the ground, unsure of why you, a woman he had perceived to be so in love with the man behind him, are so adamant that he dies.

“Enough, Enough!” He barks, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at Matt. “That is your husband, girl. Stop acting like he’s torturing you when he is not the one whose been experimenting on you for six months!”

“Let me go, I need him gone! He’s cruel, He’s a monster!” You cry, and Matt has started crying. Putting you both out of your misery, Frank hits you in a way that knocks you right out. Matt goes over to your now unconscious form and pets your hair.

“Why was she—”

“I don’t know.. I just don’t know, red. Let’s get her out of here to figure it out, okay?” Matt just nods and grabs his helmet, slipping it on so Frank can’t see him crying anymore.

• • •

If you had a nickel for every time you woke up tied to a chair, you’d have more nickels than you had fingers.

Today is no different.

You’re surrounded by people you don’t recognize. And one you do. Your angry glare stays on him, and he looks upset by it.

You’re unsure why. You’re so sure he just wanted you dead.

The blonde woman in front of you says your name softly. When your gaze shifts to her, you notice her soft eyes.

“How do you know my name?” You ask.

She frowns.

“It—Because we’re good friends.”

“I don’t know you.”

“You don’t… My name is Karen.” She says softly. She goes over to a nearby shelf, pulling out a picture frame and showing it to you. “Here, that’s you and me. At your wedding.”

“My wedding? The one that he set up just to hurt me?”

Matt remembers you telling him that you had never been happier than when you were getting ready for your wedding.

There’s two other men, one held you down while you were meant to kill Matt, but the other one.. You vaguely remember him standing next to Matt when you got married.

He speaks next.

“Matt and Frank, they found these vials in one of the labs. We think the man that took you used it to... to alter your memories.”

“Why would The Doctor do that? He helped me.” You tell them, unsure what to make of this whole situation. Matt is growing extremely frustrated because he knows just how scared you were of that monster.

“Untie her.” Matt tells Frank, and everyone looks at him like he’s crazy. Including you because you know that you’ll just try and kill him. “Do it,” he tells him again and very hesitantly, Frank does untie you. When you’re free from the rope, you step forward to go towards Matt, but Frank grabs your arm.

“Don’t,” he says. But then, Matt reaches for Frank’s gun on the nearby table and hands it to you. Odd choice for a man you want to kill.

“Go ahead.” He tells you, facing you now. “Shoot me, kill me if that’s what you really want to do.” He says. You stare at the gun in your hand for a second, before holding it properly and aiming it at Matt. Everyone waits with bated breath to see what you’ll do.

Pull the trigger, you tell yourself, The Doctor’s voice echoing around your head. He hurt you, the voice says. He needs to die.

And yet, you just stare at the man on the other end of the gun, trying to build up the courage to kill him. To kill the man that for months you have been taught needs to die. That you have memories of hurting you, of maiming you.

Your hand tremors as tears fill your eyes, until you eventually drop your arm, so the gun isn’t pointing at him anymore.

“Look at the photo of you and Karen,” Matt tells you, “You have hearing aids in the photo. I didn’t do that to you, you got into a bad accident, you got sick and that’s how you lost your hearing. I had nothing to do with that. You even had your powers before me, you didn’t just get them in the past six months. The Doctor is an evil man who just wanted to torture people and turn them into science experiments.” He tells you, and you want to tell him to stop, that it’s not true. But something in you tells you not to. “I love you,” he says gently, and you flinch away from him when he says this.

It breaks his heart into a million pieces. Absolutely shatters it.

“I don’t know you.” You tell him.

Sensing that Matt doesn’t know what to say to that, Frank steps forward.

“Hey. I’m Frank, you remember me?”

“You pinned me down when you found me.” He sighs softly.

“Yeah, well.. You have memories of when the two of you got married, right? So those are real memories… What about the ones of him hurting you? Do they look any different?”

You take a moment to close your eyes and really focus on the memory you have so closely attached to the man in red. They’re.. Filmy. Like they have a filter on them or like glass shimmering in the sun.

Tears fall from your eyes as you open them, your hand quickly coming up to wipe your tears.

“I think we did enough for now.. She needs to rest.” The man whose name you don’t know, but he has this shaggy blonde hair. Then this question comes up in everyone’s mind—Where will you stay?

“I’ll take the couch,” Matt says, “You take the bed.” You don’t know how comfortable you are with being alone with Matt in this apartment, even if the memories are fake. They feel pretty real.

“I don’t know if—” Karen starts.

“I.. It’s fine..” you say softly, and that fills Matt with a fraction of hope. “It’s just over night.”

Frank sighs softly, taking his gun off the table and glancing at Matt.

“We’re only a phone call away, alright?” Karen tells him.

It feels sort of awkward that they only talk to him as if you can’t hear them. Well, you can’t hear them very well, but you can hear.

“There’s clothes for you in the bedroom,” Matt tells you, “Go take a shower and I’ll walk them to the door.” Very reluctant to turn your back on Matt, you make your way to the bedroom to gather your clothes and go to shower.

You really haven’t had a good shower in six months, so it’s nice to wash the dirt off your skin and from beneath your fingernails. You spend a long time under the hot shower, letting it burn your skin. Your whole life has been turned upside down because you’re slowly coming to terms with the fact that Matt Murdock isn’t your sworn enemy, and that maybe.. he just.. does like you..

Meanwhile, Matt walks the others out, or at least to the door, hesitant to go too far from you.

Foggy glances back to him before he leaves, curiously.

“How did you know she wouldn’t shoot you?”

He hesitates.

“I didn’t.” he says softly. “I just trusted that somewhere within her, my wife still loves me.”

• • •

Later that night, you stare out the window of his apartment at that bright billboard. You gaze at it curiously, and hear Matt call your name gently behind you. In his hands, he holds your hearing aids.

You put them on, and just look at him for a few minutes.

“You kept them?”

“I never stopped looking for you..” He told you. “I prayed every night hoping to hear your heartbeat again.” He tells you, and you don’t know what to make of it. He seems so devoted to you, yet you have these memories of him beating you until you’re close to death.

“I’m sorry I can’t be in love with you the way you want me to be.”

He shrugs gently.

“In sickness and in health, right?”

“And in torture and memory alteration.”

“Same thing.”

For the first time in six months, you smile.

Maybe your husband isn’t such a bad guy.

You can only hope he’ll love you long enough for you to get your shit together and not want to kill him anymore.

• • •

Memories are a tricky thing.

You decide to spend your days with Frank, hunting down various people who worked with The Doctor. You talk a lot about your memories with him. And no matter what, at the end of the day, you have dinner with Matt.

One night, he brings home Thai Food.

“We had this for our first date,” he recalls. “You got pad Thai, your favorite.” You try to recall the memory.

“You wore a nice blue button up, right?” You say softly. He smiles gently and nods.

“Yeah. I did.” He says gently.

“Can..” You hesitate. “Can you tell me more about it? Our life together? I can’t.. discern between what’s real and fabricated.” You’re making new memories, sure, but you know he misses the life the two of you had together.

But he’s caught off guard by your request. For the past few weeks, you’ve been hesitant to indulge in any memories you think might be real.

“You used to work for me.” He tells you. “Not in a weird way, but our office is small. We fell in love over Thai food and opening statements.”

“Why did you want to marry me?”

He hesitates for a second, not wanting to scare you off.

“Because I love you.” He tells you. “Because when you were with me, it was the closest thing I’d ever knew to peace.” He confesses.

“Oh..”

“Yeah.” He takes another bite of his food. “You know if you have a memory and you don’t know if it’s real, you can always ask.”

You smile softly.

“Thanks.” There’s a soft silence that fills the room before you ask, “I have this memory of us in bed, with you running your hand through my hair.. Your fingers tracing these antlers I have.. Is that real?”

“Yeah, it is..” He promised. “I have a thing about textures and your hair is soft.”

“I’m glad.” You smile. This is nice. This gentleness that’s between you. It’s a softness you aren’t used to, one that you don’t know if you’d ever quite get used to.

Later that night, when you were meant to be fast asleep, you wake up with a startling gasp in bed. You look around panicked. You don’t quite know who you’re looking for..

Until Matt comes into the room, a concerned look on his face.

“Are you okay?” He asks, and this calmness washes over you.

“Yeah..”

“Okay. Okay, good, I’ll be in the living room if you need me.” He says softly. He’s been so good to you, sleeping on the couch for so many weeks. He goes to leave, but you call out to him. He turns back to you.

“Can you stay with me?” You ask.

“Yeah, of course.” He says softly, climbing into bed with you. You think for a second, before shifting a bit, resting your head against his chest. You listen to the gentle thud of his heartbeat, as his hand finds your back, gently rubbing up and down. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He isn’t dumb—He knows you have nightmares. And that on the nights that you do, you’re quieter and more avoidant of him. It’s a bad habit, one you want to break. Because you recognize that your dreams aren’t real.

Matt has never done anything to you, and you’re sure of this.. For the most part. Sometimes when you wake up, you must reorient yourself and remind yourself that Matt has no malicious intent towards you and no reason to hurt you.

But it takes you a few minutes to accomplish this. On those mornings, you tend to keep your distance from him, and because Matt wants nothing but your happiness, he stays away from you. But tea is always placed in front of you, and he never strays far from you.

“Not really.” You finally answer. There’s another beat of silence. “We went as the couple from The Princess Bride for our first Halloween together.. Real or not real?”

“Real.” He confirms.

“You broke my nose once during an argument. Real or not real?”

“Not real.” He tells you. “I would never hurt you. Even when we used to fight at the gym, it was always for practice, never to do actual damage. And when we would spar, it would always end with us going home and taking a hot bath.”

You close your eyes, trying to recall that particular memory. When you find it, your face flushes with this unfamiliar heat.

“You’re still trying to protect me even though I wanted you dead... Real or not real?��

“Real.” He doesn’t even hesitate. He’s not sure if you’ve realized it yet, but he’d rather die than put you anywhere close to being in danger. His hand continues to trace patterns into your skin, as you think about his response.

You fall asleep like this, close to the man who you’re realizing has never intended to hurt you a day in your life.

• • •

The day you realize you’re in love with your husband is horrifying.

Which seems like a crazy accusation to make, and yet, you feel nothing but horror when you realize that you are desperate for him. Which is insane, because you’ve been living with him for two months when you realize you are desperate to kiss him like you’re drowning and need air.

It happens at the office. You decided to cook, because you remember really liking it, and to say thank you for all he’s done for you, you want to bring lunch to Matt at work. So you make this really delicious chicken pesto pasta, and you pick up sodas to go along with it. Matt gets the following text:

‘Your favorite soda is Dr. Pepper. Real or not real?’

Five minutes later, you get a response.

‘Real. Yours is sprite.’

You pick up a bottle of each and head over to his office. You’ve been there a few times before, but mostly it was because Frank needed to talk to Karen about something, but lately you’ve found yourself wanting to go to the office just to see Matt.

Matt is surprised when he hears the familiar beat of your heart on the other side of the door. He can also hear the slight buzz of your hearing aids.

“Sweetheart, you can come in.” He calls, but you hesitate even further. Not because you’re confused as to why he knows it’s you, but because your brain sort of short circuits when he calls you the pet name. But after a few minutes, you walk into the room and place lunch on his desk, as well with your drinks.

“Do you like pesto?”

“We had pesto pasta at our wedding.” Oh.

“So you do?”

“Yeah, I do. Especially the way you make it.”

“Oh, good.” You smile and sit at the chair on the other side of the desk. “Because I made chicken pesto pasta for lunch and figured you might want some.”

“Well, thank you for thinking of me.”

There’s a quiet calm between the two of you.

“This is a pretty killer first date, huh?” This makes Matt laugh, because in his mind, your first date was eating Thai food and listening to music. But this isn’t bad either.

“Well, Chivalry must be dead then, because I didn’t even buy you flowers.” He hums, and you tilt your head.

“I don’t remember you ever buying me flowers.” He frowns at this.

“Well, I’m going to have to fix that.”

And that’s how the afternoon goes. You sit with Matt in his office, eating a homemade chicken pasta and falling in love with him. As you go to leave, he asks you what you have planned for the day.

“I have some errands to run, but I should be home to make dinner.” And for a moment, Matt forgets all that’s happened, and he lets himself believe that you have all your memories of him perfectly intact and no one’s ever made you think otherwise.

You get back to the apartment a few hours later, and just as you’re unpacking your groceries, there’s a knock at the door. When you open it, a delivery man stands with a bouquet of flowers. Your face is warm as you sign off on them.

As you put them in their vase, you notice a note attached to it. You catch yourself grinning as you read his little note, that reads ‘I’ll buy you flowers until I’m old and wrinkly. Real.’

The urge to run back to the office and kiss him overwhelms you.

So you call Frank.

This leads to the pair of you, sitting at a booth in a diner, nursing coffees and toast.

“I hope you didn’t call me here just to complain about married life.” He tells you, making a joke out of the thing that terrifies you.

“No, I just wanted you to sit here talking to a chick with antlers so you can look like more of a freak than you already are.” You tease.

It gets you both laughing. These moments, in between all the nightmares and all of the filmy memories, fill you with a light you can’t quite describe.

“So, why’d you really call me to meet up?” He asks. “I have to assume you don’t just want to chitchat.”

“I think I’m in love with Matt.” You tell him. He raises an eyebrow.

“What? Why does that sound like you think it’s a problem?” He asks.

“I don’t know.” You confess. “It’s like I don’t want to love him, like a part of me still believes he’s the bad guy. I know he does.. Besides, I was so awful to him for so long. I pointed a gun at him and he still comforts me every night. What if I don’t deserve this?” You ask. “What if I don’t deserve him?”

Frank actually laughs—Okay, not like a giggle or a belly laugh, but it gets a good chuckle out of him.

“You and Red with that shit—Questioning if you’ve done enough for something good to happen to you. With the ‘Do I deserve this?’ and the ‘Am I worthy of this?” He shakes his head. “All that shit is irrelevant. Do you want it? Do you want to be with him?”

Tears fill your eyes as you realize what that means.

“You and him, you love each other like breathing, and I know you don’t quite get that yet, but it’s the same reason you didn’t shoot him that day. Something in you knows that you love him and deserve his love.” Frank is speaking from experience, because he knows that no matter what he’s done, he knows he deserves one more kiss from his wife.

But he’ll never get that chance.

He hopes Matt does.

• • •

It takes you a long time to make your way back to the apartment. When you get there, Matt immediately stands from his place on the couch and has this look of concern etched across his face.

“Is everything okay?” he asks gently, “Your heart is racing, I just want to make sure you’re safe and—"

“I’m fine.” You smile gently. “Really, I… Thank you for the flowers.” You tell him. His face softens.

“You like them?”

“I love them, Matt.” You confess. “I’ve spent.. So long trying to rationalize everything, sort out the real things from the things that aren’t..” You’re not too sure what you’re trying to say. “I just.. I want.. I want to try. I want to try and be with you, I’m ready for that. I’m ready to be happy with you..”

He hesitates. Not because he doesn’t want to, because he doesn’t want you, but he is worried that you’re only saying these things because you feel like you might owe him. You don’t. You don’t owe him anything other than what you want to give him, and he is desperate for you to know that.

“Sweetheart, You don’t.. I don’t need.. I don’t need you to pretend like you want me just because I’ve taken care of you. It’s more than enough to just—”

Matt is cut off by his first kiss from you in eight months. Your hands rest on the sides of his cheeks, and his arms are quickly around your torso. The kiss is passionate but soft at first—Until you push deeper, desperate to be as close as you can to him. Your hand even comes up to pull off his glasses to see his eyes.

Without thinking, you pull away from him only for your hand to come down to the hem of his shirt, going to pull it off.

“Off, off, off, off—” You softly request, and he just laughs, taking your hand in his, pressing a kiss to the back of it.

“Stop. Wait.” He says gently. “I just.. I want to make sure you actually want this.. That you really want me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“You’ve been reserved for the past two months, rightfully so, but now you want to sleep with me.. I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret. Or something you do just because you feel lonely or bad that I—” You cut him off with another kiss, breaking it shortly after.

“I want you. I want to rebuild my life with you. I want to create new, untainted memories.. It won’t be easy, but I want to be with you.” You confess. “I want countless summer nights, I want you to be there for all the nightmares, I.. I want to give you the same peace you’ve been trying to give me.”

You’re both crying and you don’t quite know why. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a gold band. He slips it onto your fingers and kisses you again. He holds the hand with your wedding ring on it as he leads you into the bedroom. Into your life together. Into your arms. Where you were meant to be.

The next morning, you lay in the quiet of your apartment, the silk sheets tickling your skin. You focus on Matt’s breathing. He traces patterns into your skin.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask, and he takes a moment to answer.

“You.” He says gently. “You’re all I’ve been thinking about for three years.” He says gently. Then, when you don’t say anything, “Our anniversary was two months ago..” You know he misses the life you could have had together.

The life that he had planned out for the pair of you in his head. The life that oh so quietly, he longs for. The one without nightmares, supplemented by the laughter of any potential children you might have.

“I could get used to thinking about you, too, you know.” And it makes him laugh, as you lean up and bite his shoulder gently, before placing a kiss to that same patch of skin. He swats your arm gently before the pair of you break down into giggles.

“In the future, if you ever.. don’t want to do that, you don’t have to.”

“I know.” You tell him.

A comfortable silence fills the air again.

“I’m so happy you came back to me.” He says gently. “I was.. I spent so long worried that.. that we’d spend years just trying to find our footing again. That you wouldn’t get better..” For the second time tonight, you cut off his overthinking with a kiss.

“I love you.” You tell him when you’re finally ready to pull away. The morning light shines into the apartment, giving Matt this glowing effect. He practically shimmers in the golden light, and you just take a moment to commit the look of him to memory.

You try and take your time, studying him. He’s so beautiful this time of day.

“Real or not real?” He asks you softly, as one hand snakes up to your hair, his fingers gently running through it.

You lean forward and place a soft kiss to his lips.

“Real.”

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moonlightazriel · 10 months

Text

Secret /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: Azriel it’s secretly dating someone, not even his family is aware, until they meet her on unfortunate circumstances.

Warnings: Mentions of blood and torture

Word Count: 1,5K

Notes: This have been on my drafts for a while, for so long that it’s probably covered in dust, allergic people, be aware ahahahahahahah

Main Masterlist

His calloused hands rubbed her back, squeezing the skin and trying to undo the knots in the muscles, she snored, her eyes closed as Azriel worked his magic. The soft sounds of rain and the faint smell of mint from the oil he was using for the massage relaxing her brain.

He looked down, seeing her deep asleep, he removed his hands and covered her naked back with the blankets, kissing her forehead and leaving to go wash his hands. As he laid down with her, she snuggled closer to him, he buried his nose in her hair, inhaling the scent, it smelled like fresh strawberries and he loved that.

He was dating Y/N for over a year, and with all the problems with Koschei, he was afraid to make the relationship public, afraid she would get harmed, even though she could perfectly protect herself, he wouldn’t risk it, it would wreck him if she was suddenly put in danger because of him. So the relationship was a secret, even for his family.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

The sunlight peeked from behind the thin curtains, he whispered a good morning, tapping her side of the bed just to find it empty, he immediately got up, exiting the bedroom just to find her standing in the doorway, a tray in her hands, filled with pastries and coffee, for him.

“I wanted to return the favor, my back feels amazing. So I made you breakfast.” She smiled at him, the smile that could light up the whole world and his heart melted in his chest, she signed for him to move back to bed and he did, she placed the tray on his lap and sat by his side so they could eat.

“No one ever served me breakfast in bed before.” She looked even more happy. “Thank you baby.”

“Glad to be the first then. I wanted to do it before but it’s rare when I have the time to actually enjoy mornings.” She sighed, sipping on her coffee.

“Yeah, must be tough, being the best healer in Prythian.” She smiled once more. “But please, don’t tell Madja that.”

“It’s not like I have the time to brag, we’ve been working a lot lately, with all that is happening, we barely have time to talk.”

“I promise to you that once we deal with Koschei, we’ll go to the summer court and have a two week vacation.” She giggled.

“Deal! I always wanted to see Adriata anyways.” They finished breakfast and she got herself ready for work, while Rhysand called him, demanding to see him straight away.

“I have to go. Have a good day honey, I love you.” He said, his lips wrapped up hers, his hands squeezed her waist and he kissed her deeply. She looked a little dizzy when they parted ways.

“I love you too, Az.” And with that, he was gone.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Four days, usually when Azriel disappeared like this, it meant he was out on a mission, but this time something felt off, she tapped her feet on the ground, unable to focus on the list in front of her. The house was silent, and she frustratedly tossed the receipts back on the table, she hated doing the administrative part, her thing was to heal people, to get into action, that was what she was made for, what her magic was made for.

She decided to take a hot shower and try to sleep, her chest feeling heavy, making it a little hard to breathe. He would always leave a note when he went on longer missions, but this time, there was nothing for her. She closed her eyes, noticing how her body slightly shivered in fear.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

A loud banging on the door woke her up, she rushed to attend, it was the middle of the night and one of Madja’s apprentice was on the other side, by the looks on his face he was also yanked out of the bed out of nowhere.

“Madja needs you, it’s the shadowsinger.” The male’s voice became a distant noise as the last word left his lips. She ran to the bedroom again, putting on her pants and her boots, barely locking the door as she winnowed to the Healers Hall.

She followed the apprentice, getting to a private room, Madja was working on the barely recognizable Azriel, he was covered in blood and his face was swollen, he had a huge slit in his chest, and by the smell of poison, she understood why he wasn’t healing. She swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to contain her shaking hands as she approached the table.

“What happened?” Madja looked up, one of the healers was cleaning him and Madja was cutting his clothes with a scissor.

“I sent him on a mission, he was captured by Koschei, I guess he wanted to send us a message.” Rhysand, the High Lord, sounded desperate from the corner of the room, Y/N quickly looked at him, with the General by his side, they looked back at her and Cassian raised an eyebrow, sharing a look with Rhysand. She didn’t have time for that.

Assessing the damages, she almost sobbed, her hands shaking uncontrollably as she looked at the infected skin around the open wound.

“We have to keep him stable until the poison comes out of his system.” One healer said, and Y/N nodded, cleaning and closing the slit was the first thing to do. She ordered around for water and a cloth, she rubbed the spot multiple times, until the skin was pink and perfectly clean.

Madja gave him another liquid, forcing it down his throat, Y/N new it was to relief the pain and help with the swelling on his face. Azriel was in a deep slumber, his breath was really weak. Y/N managed to prepare the needle for the stitches, her hands covered in his blood also, she started to patch him up, gently, trying her best to control her hands and the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes.

“His heart rate is dropping quickly.” The healer that stood by his side monitoring him alerted, and Y/N’s head snapped up as she finished the last stitch. The High Lord stepped forward ready to use his magic as he could to prevent his brother from dying.

“Bring me the adrenaline, NOW.” Madja demanded and someone ran outside to go get it, while Y/N used her powers to try and keep him steady, but as the seconds went by, his heart kept beating less and less until she could feel nothing.

“No. No, Azriel don’t.” She sobbed, her eyes wide as she looked at his pale face and unmoving chest. She felt it, the spark in the tips of her fingers, the electricity that slept within herself suddenly awake.

“Everyone step away.” Madja warned as Y/N focused that energy on her palms.

“You can’t DIE.” She screamed, planting her hands with her palms flat on his chest, the electricity rushed from her body in a spark of blue and jolted his body up. “C’mon Az, you have to take me to Adriata, remember?” She spoke, pulling her hands up and smashing his chest again, his body jolted but his heart still didn’t react. “You have to take me to have dinner with your family dammit.” She concentrated all that energy on her palms, the buzzing sound of electricity was the only thing in the room as everyone held their breaths while they watched. “You have to go back cuz I love you more than anything.” She pressed her palms on his chest, sending the energy until she heard his heart beating and Azriel jolted awake.

He peaked at her from a barely open eye, while she fell to his chest sobbing, his hand weakly moved through her hair.

“My body feels tingly.” He managed to say and she lifted her head, the tears hadn’t stopped but she was smiling, giggling as she crashed her lips against his, he kissed her back, and she felt the relief wash over her and relieve the weight on her chest.

“I told you this was Azriel’s favorite shirt.” The general spoke as him and Rhysand approached them, they had tears in their eyes as they watched Azriel.

“How are you feeling Az?” Rhys asked.

“Like shit, but at least I’m alive.” He tried to joke but no one laughed, the idea of him gone wasn’t something to joke around.

“I can’t even start to thank you.” Rhys looked at her. “All of you.” He turned to the rest of the healers. “Thank you so much for keeping my brother alive.”

“I did this based totally on selfish reasons but you’re welcome.” Rhysand and Cassian laughed.

“What can I do for you?” Rhys asked.

“You can invite me over for dinner. It’s been a year and Azriel hasn't taken me to a single one.” The shadowsinger lazily smiled, his face already looked better, meaning the effects of the poison were already vanishing.

“A year?” Cassian asked in disbelief.

“I just had to be sure she was the love of my life before I introduced her to that bunch of crazy people.” Azriel spoke, his voice cracking a little.

“Are you sure now?” Y/N shyly asked.

“More than ever.” He replied.

#acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #sarahjmaas #shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #night court #moonlightazriel #velaris #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster

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my-great-big-book-of-fan-fiction · 2 months

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Barbarian King!Katsuki Bakugou x F!reader - oneshot about your husband standing up for you

This one is a little sporadic and a little short, but I hope you enjoy anyways!

words: >1000

warnings: sexism, slightly spicy ending, reader is AFAB and goes by she/her

As the new Queen of the barbarians, you faced a lot of hate for simply being at first. It was bad enough that you were the princess of their rival kingdom, Kalestia, but the people feared that you would weaken their newly crowned king, King Katsuki.

Now though, a year into your marriage, the people realized you were far better for them than they thought. You held no ties to your original homeland, seeing as your parents never cared for you as you were a daughter born after a son, and while it was true that Katsuki had a soft spot for you, treating you like the royalty you were, his usual battle lust never died down. In fact, it might have increased, given the fact that he now had you to protect and not just his kingdom. Best of all, you had convinced your rough and tough husband to attend the meetings between your allies, meetings that would be highly beneficial to the kingdom.

You both were actually at a meeting right now, Katsuki's arms crossed over his chest as he glowered, vermillion eyes scanning the room at the weaklings before him. It was all yapping, people going back and forth, stalemating on important issues. You sighed, knowing how Katsuki felt as you yourself were getting impatient, and finally decided to chime in.

"Alright, It would be in the best interest for all of us if we set aside money and focus on the betterment of the people."

Katsuki nodded in agreement, watching as the royal translators delivered the messages to these world leaders and looking at their faces. He had this proud look on his face, knowing his wife was smart, and awaited the other people's praises. To both of your surprises, though, everyone in the room laughed. You blinked a couple times, surprised as the predominantly male council all laughed with each other. At least you lightened the room.

Katsuki stood, hands resting on the table, muscled arms flexing. "You gotta problem with my fuckin' wife," he barked, effectively silencing the room. One incredibly brave man started laughing nervously, eyes flicking between Katsuki and yourself. "Wh-Well, You certainly can't expect us to take her-" he gestures at you with fat fingers, not even dignifying you with a glance- "seriously...?"

Katsuki was twitching, veins popping, eyes practically predatory, jaw clenched. The only thing that calmed him was your delicate hand on his forearm. He glanced at you, gaze softening slightly, before returning his attention to the asshole before him. "Talk about my wife like that again, and you'll be lucky to eat without a damn tube," he growled, bitterly sitting back down and looking around for anyone to oppose him. silence.

He nodded at you, returning the room to you. You sighed, straightening up. For the next 2 minutes you relayed all your thoughts on the current strife this council faced, restating problems, handing out solutions, and explaining details. Everyone nodded along quietly, like toddlers being scolded, and when it was time to vote on what to do, it was unanimously on your side.

Later that night, you were in your carriage back to Forrmidūl, the true name to what many called The Barbaric Lands. "Kat...thank you for standing up for me." Katsuki looked over to you, his hand squeezing yours a little tighter, and rolled his eyes. "That's the bare minimum, dumbass."

You laughed, leaning your head on his shoulder and breathing in the scent of rich musk and burnt caramel. "Yeah, But I still want to thank you." He released your hand and wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close to him as the carriage rattled beneath the two of you. "Whatever..." He grumbled, kissing your scalp. He was always like this, contradicting his words with his actions.

After a moment, he nuzzled his nose against your head and mumbled, "You were good today." His praises meant a lot, because he didn't give it out easily.

"I know," you giggled, proud of yourself. You could feel him smiling against your skin, he found it cute how excited you were.

"You know, I've been reading the townspeople's letters," you mentioned, your hand resting on his thigh. "yeah," he asked, fingers twiddling with the ends of your hair.

"uh huh..." you giggled, making him realize whatever you were about to say was going to have to sole purpose of teasing him. "So," he said, wanting you to get to the point already.

"It's weird, all they want is for us to produce an heir," you said in a flirtatious tone, looking up at him through your lashes. He groaned and rolled his eyes, however his face was red. He was trying his best not to be flustered, but damn it you were hot. The way your eyes sparkled, you lips plump and ready for kissing, and you cheeks slightly warm at your own flirting.

"Yeah? That is weird," he scoffed, not wanting to give in to your temptations just yet. That said, his hand slid to your waist, just above your hips.

"sooo...what do you think about that?" And just like that, the power was shifted. He grinned, you should have been more patient. He leaned down, his mouth right next to your ear. "I think that you want a baby," he taunted, one hand sliding to your thigh while the other ran through your hair.

"what makes you think that," you sighed, a little breathless with how he figuratively swept you off your feet. He grinned, licking his lips like a predator preparing to eat his prey, the hand on your thigh sliding up to toy with the neckline of your dress. "Need me to show you?" His eyes were locked on your breasts, a calloused hand ripping at the delicate fabric to view them in all their beauty.

Sex was a lot easier in a moving carriage than either of you thought, even on the bumpy country roads, and while the driver never heard you, they certainly noticed when you walked out with a shredded dress.

I know this one lowkey sucked, but while writing I was hit by a train of other ideas and this fic suffered because of it. Hope you liked it anyways, and as always leave a comment if you want more!

#fanfic #fan fiction #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo mha #new writeblr

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delta-piscium · 1 year

Text

I wrote this in September and it’s been collecting dust in my docs and staring back at me with judgement whenever I post or write something else so here

“Steve” a familiar voice shouts across the room.

Steve turns around, and there, on the other side of the crowded room is Tommy. It really shouldn’t be as big of a shock to see him as it is. Steve is at a house party on a Friday night, it would have been weirder if Tommy wasn’t here. But still, that doesn’t mean he’s prepared to see him, they basically haven’t talked in three years, ever since Steve ‘chose’ Nancy over him and Carol (aka finally dropped them because they were horrible and didn’t drop Nancy because she isn’t).

Still, he plasters on a smile, making it as polite as he can, and waves. Hopes it will be enough but of course, it isn’t. Tommy starts weaving through people, pushing and elbowing his way toward Steve.

“Its been ages,” he says clapping his hand on Steve’s shoulder, “how have you been man.”

Steve resists the urge to shrug his hand off, but it’s a close thing.

“It has.” Steve doesn’t add ‘because you’re an asshole and I hate who I am around you’ and he feels very mature for it. “I’m good.” He very deliberately does not ask Tommy how he’s been.

“Me too, me too.” He responds anyways, at least he finally removes his hand from Steve’s shoulder which makes him relax marginally. “Still dating Nancy?”

And, okay yeah, he and Tommy haven’t really spoken since he and Nancy were still together but Hawkins is a small town and he’s sure Tommy knows that Nancy had both broken up with Steve, gone on to date Jonathan for two years, and recently broken up with him as well. Actually, he thinks he remembers a shower conversation with Billy just days after she dumped him and went off to Murray with Jonathan, a conversation that Tommy was also present for.

“No, we broke up years ago.” He dutifully replies anyways, because what else can he say?

“Yeah, heard she dumped you?”

Steve is gonna remain calm, play along in whatever game Tommy is playing, and not react.

“She did,” he agrees easily.

“And got with Jonathan right after? Should have listened to us and stayed away.” He grins as he speaks, grins as if Steve is gonna agree with him.

“We’re still friends,” Steve shrugs, letting the fall of Tommy’s smile bring one to his own lips.

“Was for the best that we broke up, we’re much better as friends.”

Tommy squints a bit, his hackles raising and Steve only notices because he once knew him so well. Why he’s still getting defensive talking about Nancy Steve doesn’t know.

“Oh Stevie, you still hung up on her huh?”

It’s deliberate, he’s trying to press Steve’s buttons. ‘Well, tough Tommy-boy.’ Steve thinks, ‘those ones don’t work anymore, have been defunct for ages. You’re gonna have to do better than that if you want a reaction.’

“Nah,” he says, lets his smile be a bit more genuine when he continues, “she’s great but I’m dating someone else.”

“Rebound?” Tommy whistles, “she hot?”

Why Tommy is convinced Steve is still pining after Nancy he can’t say, or maybe it’s the only angle he has on Steve nowadays? Except they basically lived in each other's pockets all through high school and if Tommy really wants to get under Steve’s skin there are other things, better things. Things he has used against Steve before and seen the effect of. Why he isn’t he using them now when he clearly has some agenda Steve can’t say.

Steve is about to respond, has his mouth open and ready to speak when someone calls his name again. Thankfully this time the source is a lot more pleasant.

Tommy turns around to see who it is, completely exposing his back to Steve. It’s probably the last few years of fighting hell monsters that has ingrained a distrust in Steve. Making him hyper-aware of his surroundings and never willing to leave his back open like this to people he doesn’t trust. He knows this but still, he thinks there should be some primal instinct in Tommy to stop him from making himself so vulnerable to Steve, the action speaks of leftover trust that Steve isn’t ready to face.

“Munson? You know Munson?” He turns back around, an incredulous look on his face.

It snaps Steve out of his thoughts and reminds him Eddie had called for him. He leans to the side, stretching out so he’s visible behind Tommy, catching Eddie’s eye and waving him over.

“I do, yeah.”

Tommy’s face twists into something Steve can’t immediately place. He recognizes it, knows he’s seen Tommy make that face before. It’s not disgust or confusion but maybe something in between? Before he can figure it out it clears.

“Oh, King Steve getting drugs? Who would have thought?”

Steve rolls his eyes, the only reason he had stopped smoking weed for a while in high school was because athletes got tested. Why Tommy is pretending Steve ever had some moral issue with it now is beyond him but not much of this interaction has made sense to him so far so what’s one more thing?

“What Steve doing drugs? He’s a very responsible young man and would never” Eddie says, twisting past the last couple of people.

“Right Stevie? You wouldn’t touch the stuff?” Eddie–knowing very well that Steve would in fact ‘touch the stuff’–asks.

“Not with a ten-foot pole.” Steve–who smoked yesterday–deadpans.

“Knew I could trust in you to stay a good boy.” Eddie coos as he steps into Steve's space and kisses him despite where they are. It’s quick enough that no one who isn’t watching would catch it though and the only one who is watching is Tommy. When Steve looks back at him his face slack with shock.

“Hagan,” Eddie says with a short nod.

“You-?” Tommy looks between them, that same look as before flashing on his face, still just out of Steve’s grasp.

Steve contemplates what he should do for a second but Tommy already saw them kiss, already knows. And honestly, Steve doesn’t really care what he thinks and he knows Tommy won't say anything. Steve has too much dirt on him.

“Oh sorry, Tommy this is my boyfriend.” His voice is deceptively sweet as he introduces Eddie as if that’s what Tommy had been getting at.

Steve turns to Eddie, “baby, you know who Tommy is right?”

He’s laying it on thick, asks despite Eddie greeting him by name two seconds ago. Knows others' unabashed confidence and being on the outside are things Tommy can’t handle.

“I think so,” Eddie plays along, “you were friends once right? Before you found better people?”

It’s mean but Steve wouldn't have thought too much of it if it weren’t for the wounded noise Tommy makes. When Steve looks at him again his face is cracked open and it finally clicks what that expression is.

“Aw, you jealous?” Eddie says in a mocking tone, hitting the nail on the head because that’s exactly what that expression is, jealousy.

It’s the same look he had whenever Steve told him about a new girl, the look he’d have when Steve started bringing Nancy around. It’s deeper though, not only jealousy. He also looks like he did when Steve told him and Carol to leave him alone. He doesn’t just look jealous, Tommy looks heartbroken.

He tries to pull it together, scrunching his nose up in disdain, and scowls at them. Quickly looks away from Steve when their eyes catch and his mask falls a bit, instead focusing on Eddie who raises one eyebrow in response.

“Hardly,” he scoffs, it comes out strained, “I would love to stay and chat but-”

He doesn’t elaborate, just turns on his heel and disappears into the crowd.

Steve is frozen to the spot, a war going on in his head. Puzzle pieces he didn’t know were missing falling into place.

“Come on, let's get out of here.” Eddie grabs Steve’s wrist and starts pulling him outside, away from the party. He gets them in his car and doesn’t try to speak to Steve, probably sensing he’s having some earth-shattering realizations right now.

“He liked me,” he finally manages to say. “That’s why he hated Nancy so much. He was...” he trails off, knows it’s true but can’t quite say it.

“Jealous,” Eddie finishes softly.

“You knew?” Steve asks because Eddie doesn’t sound or look surprised at all.

He shrugs, “I had my suspicions.”

“But how-”

“We looked at you the same,” his smile is wry, self-deprecating, “I recognized it.”

And Steve can’t really process this right now even though he knows it’s true so he grasps at straws, “Carol, he was with Carol?”

Eddie reaches out one arm and cups his face in his hand, glances at him quickly before he looks back at the road with a sad smile.

“If you’re in love with your best friend, your male best friend who you believe is straight, you do what you need to do to push it down, to hide it. Especially in high school and in a small town.”

“In love?” Steve rasps because he’d said ‘like’.

“Yeah, sweetheart. In love.”

Eddie brushes his fingers under Steve’s eye and he realizes it’s because he’s crying.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I don’t know why I'm reacting like this.”

And it’s true, he really doesn’t understand why it feels like a big hole has opened in him. He never liked Tommy, not like that, yet it feels like he’s lost something, fucked something up.

“He used to be your best friend, it’s a big thing to realize.” Eddie parks outside of his trailer, turns to Steve making no move to get out of the car. “Kind of changes everything, or at least puts it in a new context, explains some things.”

Steve feels the blood drain from his face because he’s suddenly remembered something and oh god does it put it in a new fucking context.

“Baby?” Eddie asks when Steve sits frozen again.

“We used to get wasted and make out,” he whispers the words, shame coursing through his veins.

Eddie goes still and Steve rushes the explain.

“Not often and not after he got with Carol, just,” he takes a shallow breath, “It happened a few times. We’d steal my dad's whiskey and get so beyond drunk and, well, kiss a lot.”

He’d smile at the memory if he wasn’t so horrified by it at the moment.

“The first time Tommy had never kissed anyone, asked me to teach him so he wouldn’t fuck it up when it mattered. Then after that it just kind of continued to happen. We’d get drunk, make out, and pretend like nothing. It stopped when he started seeing Carol, he tried but I stopped him. Told him he didn’t need to practice now when he had the real deal. We never talked about or even mentioned it.”

Steve sees Eddie’s arms shake and when he looks up he sees Eddie holding back laughter, eyes filled with barely concealed amusement.

“Are you laughing right now?”

Eddie stops holding back, letting the laughter burst out of him and Steve is so confused because he thought Eddie would be mad at him. He’s not sure why, it’s just that this has been such a deeply buried secret wrapped in shame for years with a big ‘do not talk or even think about it’ sign placed in front of it. That it would be met with laughter was never a possibility.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps through it, “It’s just such a cliche.”

Steve’s confused face only makes Eddie laugh harder. When he calms down he takes Steve's face in both his hands holding him firmly and looking him in the eyes.

“Steve, baby, sweetheart. Tommy used the oldest trick in the book on you, asking you to teach him how to kiss and you did it multiple times because what? he needed practice? That’s the flimsiest excuse to gay kiss your best friend and it’s also fucking done, it’s a cliche.”

Steve blinks, realizes that while he never had feelings for Tommy he had definitely found him attractive, had enjoyed kissing him. Had very deliberately not thought too deeply about his or Tommy's motives because that would have made it something he would have had to face.

“Oh,” he says.

Eddie smiles, wide and warm, “yeah, oh.”

“You don’t think I used him?” Steve has to ask, “if he had feelings for me and I didn’t have any for him.”

“No,” Eddie says, “not more than he did you. And you were kids, just messing around and trying to figure yourselves out in a not-very-accommodating world.”

Eddie squints a bit in thought, “though he probably thought you were more on the same page, that you could continue even though he was with Carol. Must have stung to be rejected.”

Steve snorts, “wasn’t really interested in helping anyone cheat, even under all the pretenses.”

“I know.”

Eddie's eyes are soft, looking at him with so much warmth that Steve momentarily forgets what they were talking about until Eddie's mouth twists into a sly grin.

“I can’t believe your first gay experience was with Tommy fucking Hagan.”

Steve gives him an unimpressed look, “at least I didn’t come in my pants ten seconds in, like some people I know.”

Eddie draws back, clutching his chest with his hands, “harsh words, love. It was at least a minute.”

#the amount of times i used the word realize- Steve in this and kylie jenner in 2016 #🤝 realizing so much #listen Tommy being in love with Steve and them kissing as teenager just takes up such a specific part of my brain always #like look at them- they would okay #don't ask me what this is beyond that #Steve and Eddie are assholes together b #but only (mostly) when it's deserved #Dels steddie thoughts #My writing #my post #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steddie fanfic #steve x eddie #tommy hagan

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