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uhohnotthisagain · 2 months

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What they didn’t see

Summary: Just your classic friends to lovers with some good old fashioned angst.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Characters: Dean, Sam, Vampire

Warnings: mention of injury, angst, pining, fighting, weapons, swearing.

Word count: 2.0k

a/n: Enjoy, I hope it’s ok x

My masterlist

“Hey.” You walk into the motel room with two bags full of food. “I’ve got dinner.”

“Oh my god, you’re amazing.” Dean rushes towards you to grab the bags. “Did you get any -” “Yea, it's in this bag.” You point to the bag with the pie in it, sitting down on the couch next to Sam as Dean grabs a chair to sit opposite the two of you. Sam smirked at the pink tint that had appeared on your face.

As the three of you dig in, you can’t help but admire Dean as he devours his burger before moving on to the pie. What most people would find disgusting, watching his messily eat his food, you found it oddly pleasing. Sam nudges you, and when you turn to look at him, all he does is smirk, prompting you to roll your eyes at him before focusing on your own burger.

You had known the Winchester’s for years. Your father and John used to hunt together, leaving the three of you at the motel. When your father was killed by a vampire, it made sense for you to stay with them, seeing as you had no where else to go. As you grew up, feelings towards Dean began to grow, but you pushed them away. He only ever saw you as a little sister anyway. Nothing was ever going to happen.

“I think we should head out early tomorrow, I think there’s a potential case a few states over. It’ll be a days drive so lets turn in early.” Dean says as he finishes up. “I call first shower.”

As the bathroom door shuts, Sam starts chucklying. “Shut up!” You whisper to him, shoving him nonchalantly. “Oh come on. I’m shocked he still hasn’t noticed. You’re so obvious.”

You roll your eyes. “No I’m not. But even if I am, he doesn’t care about me like that. Nothing is ever going to happen.”

“Sure.” It’s Sam’s turn to roll his eyes.

–

“Dean, please can you just shut the music off for 5 minutes? I’m trying to concentrate.” Sam practically yells over the music that Dean is blasting. “What? I can’t hear you over the music.” You roll your eyes and shake your head at the two of them, going back to your own research on the case.

Sam reaches forward to turn the music down enough so he can be heard, Dean slapping his hand in the process. “By the looks of it, I think its a vampire nest. Not two many killings at once so shouldn’t be a huge nest, no more than 5 or 6.” You nodded, finalising the readings you had occupied yourself with before closing the lore book. You stared out the window, nodding along to the music that filled the otherwise silent Impala.

While you were watching the trees run past, Dean glanced at you in the rearview mirror. He tried to avoid lingering, quickly turning his gaze back to the road in front.

In a few short hours, you had arrived to a motel. Dean handed you your bag, whispering a soft “Thank you.” at the gesture, which Dean responded with a small smile.

As you walked in, you noticed that there were only two beds, no pull out couch which was often where you slept. “I am not dealing with your flailing about tonight, Y/N.” Sam says, looking at you with his arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

“It’s alright, I don’t mind the occasional kicking. Sleep next to me.” Dean calls from behind you. Your eyes widen at the realization that you’re going to have to sleep next to Dean. You hadn’t slept in the same bed as him in years, often opting for the sofa or next to Sam.

As you got ready in the bathroom, you took a deep breath as you prepared yourself. “You can do this, it’s one night.” You whispered to yourself, turning to open the door and head to bed. Dean was already in bed, sat up with headphones on, eyes closed and nodding to the beat of whatever music he was listening. You crawled into the other side of the bed, facing away from Dean, closest to the edge. You quickly drifted off to sleep, hoping you didn’t end up kicking or bothering Dean in anyway.

You woke up in the same position, however seemingly closer to the middle of the bed. An arm was draped across your waist. Dean.

It suddenly dawned on you that it was his arm around you, holding you in place. You gently picked up his arm, climbed out of bed and placed in onto a pillow, hoping it wouldn’t disturb his sleep.

The door opened and Sam walked through, having just come back from his run.

“Hey.” You smiled in return, collecting your things to get ready for the day. “I figured we can scope out where the nest is this morning, and get ready to attack just after dark.” Sam suggests. “Sounds good.”

Dean starts stirring, rolling over in bed. You rush to the bathroom, hoping to avoid an interaction just yet. You hear them talking as you have your shower, but you ignore them, focusing on the water falling down your body.

“So how was last night?” Sam smirked at me. “Shut up.” Dean responds, rubbing his face as he sits up in bed. “I did that for you, you know.”

“What? Have her sleep next to me? She’s not even interested. I don’t see why I have to be tortured with it.” Dean grumbles.

“Bullshit, she’s in love with you.” Dean rolls his eyes, “She snuck out of bed. She couldn’t even stand to talk to me this morning. There is no way on earth she likes me as anything more than a friend. Barely that even.”

“Dean, you do not see what I do.” Sam scoffs. “It’s obvious that you both love each other, why neither of you have made a move? I have no idea.”

Dean just brushes him off, getting up and stretching.

After you're dressed, you walk out of the bathroom, which Sam quickly takes custody of as soon as he sees you. “Gonna have a shower now.”

“Morning.” You say softly to Dean, who responds only with a grunt, still waking up. “I’m going to go grab breakfast and coffee, any requests?” You offer.

“Just the usual.” Dean responds. You nod, grabbing a key a walking out the door.

Later, after you’ve scoped out the nest and feel ready to attack, the three of you are parked outside the warehouse where they’re located.

“Right, let’s go in and split up, we’ll get them quicker that way. Be safe everyone.” Dean says before heading towards the entrance, you and Sam quickly in tow.

The fight began almost immediately. There were more vampires than you thought, at every turn, a vampire was charging towards you.

You swung the knife every which way you could with all your strength. You could hear Sam and Dean fighting more in other areas of the building.

Finally, it seemed that you had gotten them all. You went to check on Sam and Dean. As you turned a corner, before you could even react properly, another vampire charged at you. He lunged at you, causing you to drop your knife.

You screamed as he threw you against the wall, walking towards you as you lay on the ground.

“I will kill you for what you and your little friends did.” He picked you up and threw you against the wall behind him, hitting your head hard against the concrete floor as you landed. You groaned in pain, unable to fight any more.

“Y/N!” You heard someone yell. The room was spinning and you couldn’t find the strength to stand up. Suddenly, you couldn’t breathe. The vampire had its hand around your throat, fangs out ready to unleash his final attack.

The weight on your body was pulled off, and you could finally breathe, but you couldn’t move. You heard one final scream before silence, and then footsteps hurriedly running towards you.

“Y/N? Shit Y/N can you hear me? It’s ok baby we’re here, we’ve got you.” You groaned in response, before everything went black.

“Fuck, she passed out. Sammy, go start the car, quick.” Sam runs out to the car as Dean picks you up and carries you out.

Once in the car, he’s looking all over, trying to find all of your injuries to see if he could fix anything.

At the motel, he lays you down on the bed whilst Sam grabs the first aid kit, cleaning up any wounds that can be fixed.

“Sammy what do we do. She’s not waking up.” Dean has tears in his eyes. Sam puts two fingers on the side of your neck.

“She still has a strong pulse, she’s going to be ok. She’s breathing, just knocked out hard.” Dean’s holding your hand the entire time, refusing to look away from your battered and bruised, yet still unbelievably beautiful face.

“I haven’t told her. I didn’t tell her how I feel. What happens if she doesn’t wake up?”

Sam pats his brothers shoulder, “She’s going to wake up. She will be ok. Both of you will be.”

What seemed like days, was really only a few hours later, you started to wake up. You opened your eyes and looked around at your surroundings. You spot Sam laying in his bed, asleep. You look down at your hand, in a tight grip in Dean’s hand. He was asleep too, next to you. He was on top of the covers, still in his blood-soaked clothes and shoes.

As you moved, you groaned, feel sharp pain in your head. “Fuck that kills.”

Dean wakes up startled, feeling movement coming from you. “Hey, how are you feeling?” He whispers. “Like I got hit by a truck, train and car simultaneously.” You respond.

He lets out a small chuckle, thumb running over the back of your hand.

“I know it’s really bad timing but can I talk to you?” He asks. You nod, smiling as encouragement to keep going.

“Um, so the thing is, I, um.” He lets out a breath, now sitting up to look down at you. “I like you, a lot. And it’s ok if you don’t like me back. I thought I could keep it to myself, I thought it was just a stupid thing that would go away. But it hasn’t. And seeing you tonight, all beat up and unconscious. It scared me. I thought I might’ve lost you. And I just needed you to know. You don’t have to do anything. This doesn’t have to change anything, we can stay friends. Or you can leave, it’s up to-“

You place a hand on his cheek, leaning up to press a small peck on his lips. Testing the waters. As you pull away, he follows you, reconnecting your lips. This time, in a much deeper, more passionate kiss. One full of longing, and desperation. You could feel your lungs burn, but couldn’t seem to care, kneading your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. The one hand not holding his up is resting on your hip.

When you finally pull away for a breath, you stare into his eyes. “I like you too, like a lot.” He sighs. “Really? Are you sure.”

You giggle, “Beyond sure.” You press one final kiss to his lips before settling down, resting your head on his shoulder, arm around his waist while his is wrapped around you, hand on your waist while the other one is playing with the ends of you hair.

When you wake up the next morning, you feel warm, content. Taking a deep breath in, you see that you and Dean are in the same position you fell asleep in.

“Thank fuck!” You look to see Sam smiling at the two of you.”It’s about fucking time.” You flip him off, settling back down to lay with Dean some more before you had to get up.

“How are you feeling?” You hear Dean whisper. You look up at him. “I’m ok. Still in pain but it’s better.”

“Good. We’ll let you rest up a bit before getting back out there. I’m glad you’re ok.” He kisses your forehead. “Yeah me too.” You smile up at him.

#dean x y/n #dean winchester x reader #supernatural #supernatural imagines #dean x reader #dean winchester imagines #dean winchester #sam #sam winchester #friends to lovers #supernatural x reader #supernatural angst #dean angst

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fillinforlater · 8 months

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Highkey

Choi Yujin x Shen Xiaoting

Length: 1042 words

Tags: lesbian sex, lesbian relationship, idol x idol, lovers with high sex drives, teasing, kissing, body worship, tits play, clit play, bodies rubbing each other, lesbian missionary?, quickie

TW: barely edited quickie

Inspiration: this comment by our dear @nsfwmaemi

(A/N: Squeezed this out in like 1 hour. It had to be done, those two just fit together. Also: WTF is this GIF, why is it so hot? And 10 hours long???)

"Yujinie~"

Xiaoting's whisper falls on deaf ears—at least that's what she is supposed to believe. It's not like Yujin doesn't like the approaches and needy whines by the chinese girl in her bed. The two have been fucking almost every night for months. A single touch by the other and the two get into heat.

Tonight, Yujin decided to tease her lover. Xiaoting moans softly from behind, but Yujin continues to 'sleep', clinging to her blanket, her wetness and softness increasing rapidly. She doesn't even budge when she hears Xiaoting clearly undressing and throwing away pants and panties (why the hell is she still wearing those anyways? Not like they aren't ruined at the end of every damn night).

Yujin smiles and snores, Xiaoting would have to bring out bigger guns. Her appeals by the usual means are worthless tonight, so she opts for a more bold, radical idea, one that Yujin cannot resist—one that she has actually wanted to provoke all along.

"Yujinie~ your cute little~ butt~"

A hand in the back of Yujin's pajama pants gropes one of her soft buttocks, finds a lack of panties and earns a soft moan. Xiaoting smiles brightly when her fuck buddy turns to her, horniness in her eyes.

"Don't let go of my butt, Tingie~" Yujin whispers and gets rid of her pants. "I need you."

"I need you too~ please, make me cum."

Yujin opens the buttons of Xiaoting's pajama shirt and immediately goes down on it. Her tongue licks all over the small breasts, while her hands can't help but admire the perfect midriff. Just as Xiaoting wants to stimulate Yujin as well, she gets interrupted.

"Both hands on my ass, Tingie. That's where I like them the most."

"B-but how will you cum?"

"Aww, my sweet Tingie~ Trust me, we will both feel good."

With that said, Yujin is determined to make Xiaoting shut up—at least in one way. Continuing to caress both mounds of the Chinese girl, Yujin places a trail of kisses upwards and in the valley between them. One day, Yujin will do this while wearing lipstick to show the exact path of where she has stimulated her girlfriend, but this is for another time. Today, she finishes at the corner of Xiaoting’s pits. She whimpers, her legs flail about, all to persuade Yujin to not—yes—no—right now—push up her arms and eat out her pit.

“You smell so good,” Yujin coos and lays herself flat on Xiaoting, only supported by weak knees and elbows. “Stretch out your arms, I want to taste you.”

“B-but it tickles,” Xiaoting rebuts, but not for long. The wet touch of Yujin’s pussy rubbing on her clit throws her in a frenzy of pleasure. Xiaoting’s thighs go tense, she holds onto Yujin’s butt for dear life. This is her only chance, fondle Yujin’s behind, pat and caress it so she will forget about her pits.

“I-I want to hold onto your butt, babe~” Xiaoting moans. “I c-can’t move them then.”

“Sounds like a fair compromise,” Yujin chuckles and kisses along Xiaoting’s sharp jaw, the edge covered in drool, a slipper cliff that Yujin licks down and crawls back up with kisses. “You always touch it, even in public. Someday, someone might get suspicious.”

“I don’t care. I just want to feel it, I just want to feel you, babe.”

“Stop using that word! It makes me weak, Tingie.”

“Y-you make me we—ahh!”

Yujin has had it with Xiaoting’s witty and quick answers. A hand downlow, without resistance it pushes two fingers inside and rubs over Xiaoting’s sensitive pink walls. Xiaoting puckers her lips, whines escaping as Yujin grinds her slit on Xiaoting’s nub again, this time as not a singular tease but to ensure an orgasm.

In an attempt to fake strength over her Unnie, Xiaoting spreads Yujin’s asscheeks, gets the tip of her colored nails awfully close to Yujin’s ring, while locking eyes. The last one backfires instantly in a spectacle: Yujin’s face jumps to above Xiaoting’s and her lips crash down on those delicious strawberry lips. At the same time, she grinds harder on her, trying to squeeze a heavy orgasm out of the amazing body of her lover.

“—jinie! I-I…”

“Tingie, you’re so hot! Always touch my ass, smack it if you want. I can’t breathe without your touch!”

Xiaoting does as told, though her mind is dazed and she misses the mark, her palm ending almost on Yujin’s back. Nonetheless, Xiaoting feels the older girl squirm, her moans loud and deep, sweat even dripping from her face. It’s like parts of Yujin just fall off and melt into her skin to deepen the burning tension and loving desire to be one forever.

Then their boobs rub together. Not uncommon, but every time the nipples atop the small, soft pillows brush, Xiaoting knows that the two are linked, meant for each other and that their orgasm will hit them simultaneously. In a final effort, Xiaoting smacks Yujin’s ass, as Yujin pussy lands a final blow. The two scream into the kiss, they can’t wake up the entire neighborhood after all this.

Yujin feels herself releasing pent up needs all over Xiaoting’s lower body, abs, thighs, pussy, now drenched in her own juice. Xiaoting meanwhile can only feel Yujin’s tongue drooling into her, drool and drool, a mixture running out of her mouth and trailing down her cheeks. She could use the cooling on her tits, which have never felt this hot and stimulated—must have been Yujin’s heart, beating only centimeters away.

“You’re so hot, I love you so much, fuck,” Yujin breaths out and starts to sit upright on Xiaoting’s midriff.

“You too, Unnie, b-but can you please get off me.”

“So you’re telling me I’m fat?” Yujin shoots back with faked outrage, something the foreign girl sometimes struggles to pick up.

“No, of course not! You’re beautiful, fit and—”

“At least say my ass is big,” Yujin laughs and climbs off her lover, who still holds on to both cheeks firmly. They’ll both fall asleep naked soon.

“It-it is the…

“It’s the perfect size, babe, fits right into my hands.”

Yujin blushes and hides her face behind a blanket—Xiaoting’s hands still remain right where they both want them.

#kpop smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #kep1er smut #kepler smut #choi yujin smut #kepler yujin smut #xiaoting smut #shen xiaoting smut #idol x idol smut

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imababblekat · 11 months

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Safety

**WARNINGS**: mentions of violence and bodily harm

~~~~~~~~

@samsooney, “Hello 🩷🩷 I love the idea of reader getting into an accident with the foot and having to move into the lair with Donatello, he's too scared for their life so having them move in is a big step in their relationship but also to keep them safe.”

~xXx~

The sounds of struggle and desperate, pain struck pleas rang out like a chorus in Donatello’s mind. Your name was formed from his lips but no sound came from his desperate attempt to shout for you. In the distance he lay witness to the Foot unrelentingly beat down upon your already broken body, and as hard as he tried to dash towards you, it only seemed like he could move backwards. It felt like there was a vice around Donnie’s heart as he listened to your shrill cries and screams, watching and unable to look away from the blood that came splattering from your fresh wounds. In one last ditch effort, the purple clad turtle leapt from the ground, hoping that removing his feet the blackened earth would somehow get him unstuck from his trapped point. His arms were out stretched and everything seemed to slow down as he watched in utter terror as three sharp claws came ripping through your chest. Just as he felt his heart plummet within himself, Donnie felt some strange force yank him back through the air, his petrified eyes watching your limp form, his enemies, and your small apartment shrink into darkness. ~ Donnie jolted from his desk, sweat clinging to his forehead and askew glasses wet from tears. Frantically standing straight, he grabbed hold of his metal staff and looked about with a rapidly beating heart. The clicks, beeps, and whirs of the lab brought Donnie back to his senses, and with a shaky sigh he leaned back into his chair with some sense of calm. It was just a dream. A terrible one, but still a dream nonetheless. He removed his fogged glasses, staring at nothing with a racing mind. Donnie hated how real the dream felt. He was beyond thankful it hadn’t gotten to that point, but thinking back to the night that spurred you both to take the next step in your relationship, still sent a shiver up his spine. Had he not walked you home that night, who knows if things would have played out like his subconsciousness dreaded. A soft knock had Donnie nearly jump from his scaled skin once more, but relief washed over him at seeing you in the door way, alive and intact. “Donnie, I thought you said you’d be in bed.”, you worriedly mentioned, but accepting his open arms regardless as his much taller form came forward to embrace you. Donnie held you tightly, taking delight in the calmness your lovely smelling shampoo brought him. “Sorry. I just have a few more things to tweak and then I’ll be done.”, he exhaustingly apologized. A small, frustrated sigh left your equally tired lips, pulling back to look up into those hazel eyes you’d forever have memorized. “Don, you said that same sentence hours ago. Go to bed. Please.” As heavenly as the comfort of his soft bed sounded right now, Donnie couldn’t allow himself to. He had to finish this project. A new device to help keep you safe. If he didn’t, than he felt as though he’d be ensuring his nightmares to become reality, despite his logical sense telling him how truly impossible that was. He wasn’t much for fate, but why tempt it when things like this came to you. Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time he hasn’t slept. Before you, he’d go days and even a whole week once running on nothing but caffeine and pop tarts. The lean terrapin shook his head, tails of his mask lightly flailing as he’d gently released you to return to his desk. Already, he missed your warmth. “N-no. I can’t. I really have to finish this.” A small pit started to form at the bottom of your stomach as you watched him stumble back towards his work area. You knew what he was working on, and knew that if you didn’t do something, this would be the eighth failed project he’s put all his energy and willpower into to “keep you safe” as he’d put it. At this rate though, the brainiac ninja would work himself into the grave, and you figured it was high time to step in and save him for once. Donnie stiffly reached for his abandoned glasses, when out of nowhere small hands snatched them from their perch upon some random notebooks. The ninja turtles head whipped around to watch you shove them into your shirt, a defiant look on your face as he audibly groaned. “(Y,n) please, give them back.”, he lightly demanded, trying to not let his mind wonder to his homemade prescriptions current imprisonment. You shook your head, holding up a single digit. “On one occasion. I’ll give them back, but only if you come to bed!” Donatello eyed you, weighing this proposal. You had that determined glint to your lovely (e,c) eyes, and he knew there really wasn’t much of a choice. You could be hard headed just like his red banded brother, sometimes even more so. Knowing this, Donnie decided to agree, but once you’d eventually fall asleep, he’d grab his glasses and sneak off back to the lab. Would you be mad when you wake up? Most likely, but he was doing this for you. So said turtle gave a defeated exhale of agreement and felt his heart skip a beat at the adorable, triumphant smile that you held. It didn’t take long to reach your newly established room, it being rather close to his and the lab, and just as quickly as you’d both arrived, you were both situated under the warmth of an extra large comforter. You both lay there in silence, the brown noise of the enclosed portion of the lair filling in. That and paired with the soft glow of your glowing star stickers decorated across the walls, you’d hoped it would help ease your beloveds mind. Yet, when you peaked an eye open to catch the ninja turtle eyeing his glasses you placed on the nearby nightstand when you arrived, you sorrowfully frowned. “Hey. . .” Donnie’s gaze flickered to you as you propped yourself up on an elbow to gaze down at his tinted face. “If you really can’t sleep, than at least tell me what’s going on in here.” You reached out to gently tap his forehead, before softly caressing his pebbled cheek. The feeling of your thumb rubbing soothingly just beneath his eye, and the warmth of your palm against his cheek made Donnie’s heart lightly swell, but did little to quell his troubled mind. Was it that obvious? He’d thought he had been so good at concealing the lasting fear these past events had caused him. Normally if he’d burry himself in his work, his brothers would pay him no mind, even if they knew something was up they’d leave him be to get through it. He should have figured you’d be different though. You were always there for him, always seeking him out and making him feel like something more than a shadow in the corner, tinkering away at something so few would ever understand. He wanted to be there for you as well, just as you were now, and so Donnie turned to press his lips gently into the center of your palm. “I. . .I honestly don’t even know where to start. I feel so scattered brain. Normally when my mind gets jumbled like this, I can put my focus into one of my projects and that usually fixes things. Yet, I can’t even seem to focus on any of that this time. All I can think about is, well, that night.” A frown deepened upon your face as you continued to look down towards him, reassuringly caressing his cheek when he turned to gaze back up at you with a shaky breath. “I thought I’d lose you. I’m. . .terrified I will. What if. . .what if I can’t keep you safe? What if it turns out that you get tired of this life? You deserve so much more than this. Moving in with a partner into a new apartment or even a house. Not down into the sewers to hide from people who want to hurt you because of me.” You let Donnie’s words sink in, letting out your own shaky breath and blinking to prevent the formation of on coming tears. “Oh, Donatello. . .” You murmured his name before connecting your lips to his own, staying just long enough to let him know how you truly felt before pulling back ever so slightly. “You will never lose me, because I feel and know that I am always safe with you. Despite whether or not you’ve made me some high-tech gadget. And I don’t need some new fancy apartment or house to be happy. You are my home, and I’ll gladly move wherever as long as you’re there too.” Donnie couldn’t help the smile that warmed its way onto his heated face, and he slowly reached up to hold your own in his much larger hands just as you did to him. Your words found solace deep within not just his heart, but his soul. He’d still always be concerned for your safety, but now it felt like some sort of heavy chain had been lifted from his once jumbled mind. If you truly felt this way, truly believed in him, in the safety and security he provided, than he would too. Donatello met you halfway as you leaned down for another kiss, this one longer and filled with deepened love. Pulling apart, the couple had adjusted, so that you lay comfortably tucked in between his arms and closer to his chest that held the heart which swooned heavily of you. Feeling your warmth against him, hearing your soft breaths, and the remedying sensation your loving embrace gave back was all he needed to ground himself back to reality. To you. With that sense of peace, Donnie felt that he could now actually get some restful sleep.

~xXx~

#got my pc fixed! :D #bayverse donnie x reader #bayverse donatello x reader #bayverse donnie #bayverse donatello #aged up tmnt #bayverse tmnt x reader #bayverse tmnt #slight angst #comfort #fluff #request #@samsooney #imababblekat's writing

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jupitercomet · 1 year

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The Trial Run: Chapter One

summary - Bradley Bradshaw has one goal as he finishes his junior year of college - get Makayla Cunningham to be his girlfriend. Because Makayla Cunningham is exactly the kind of girl a guy like Bradley Bradshaw deserves. There's just one problem, Makayla is adamant that Bradley is a bad boyfriend. If he wants to win her over, Bradley has to prove he can keep a girlfriend of Makayla's choosing for the entire summer. It's just his luck that girl is his little sister's best friend.

warnings - college au, frat boy Bradley, language, underage drinking, allusions to sex, Bradley is 22 and reader is 19, I added outfit links but you can imagine whatever you’d like, no use of y/n, Bradley is 6'6" because I said so

this blog is 18+, minors please do not interact

word count - 4.4k

the trial run masterlist

“Remind me again why I have to go to this?” Natasha eyes Giselle’s collection of waterproof mascaras wearily, her apprehension thinly disguised on her face.

Giselle sighs, setting down her mascara wand—Dior, you note—and locks eyes with Natasha through her vanity mirror. “It’s the sorority’s last party until finals. You’re going, Nat.”

You giggle when Natasha plops down on the bed next to you with a loud groan and prod her gently with your toe. “It’ll give you an excuse to wear that swimsuit you bought a few weeks ago,” you offer. “And maybe Mickey will be there.”

“As if he’d be caught dead at a Delta Nu party.”

“Reuben’s going, and Bob is too, I think. He’ll probably be there, Nat,” Giselle pipes up from her vanity stool, applying another layer of mascara. From behind her, you and Natasha lock eyes, a mischievous look mirrored in both of your expressions.

“Ooh, Reuben’s going, huh?” You roll forward on Giselle’s bed so that your face is just behind her shoulder. “Is that why we’re going? So you can suck face with Reuuubeen?” You sing out his name, dodging Giselle’s hand that tries to shove your head away as Natasha joins in your laughter.

“‘Suck face’? What are you? 12?” Giselle huffs, cheeks pinkening as you fall back on the mattress.

You let out an overdramatic, offended gasp. “That’s not nice! How would Reuben feel knowing you bully your friends?”

“Okay, that’s it,” Giselle puts down her makeup with a glare, but there’s a smile she can��t fight off her lips. She jumps on you suddenly, grabbing a decorative pillow as Natasha moves out of the way. Letting out a startled laugh, you try to wriggle out from under her when she hits you with the pillow. “How’s this for bullying?”

“Nat! Nat, help!” You laugh, flailing dramatically and knocking a few of Giselle’s Squishmallows off her bed.

Natasha shakes her head with a snort. Having moved away the moment Giselle pounced, she’s now watching the two of you from the hardwood floor. “I’m good.”

“Wow,” you gape at her, ignoring the plush hitting the side of your head as you lean up to look at her. “I see how it is. You guys hate me.”

Giselle scoffs with a laugh, stopping her pillow attack and getting off you. “And you have a victim complex.”

“I see someone’s paying attention in psych,” you quip, stretching out to pick up all the stuffed animals you knocked over. You pluck a piece of fuzz off of Mr. Pickles, a Build-A-Bear frog you’d gifted Giselle for her eighth birthday, brushing off his overalls before setting him down against her pillows.

You gnaw your lip in thought, keeping your eyes trained on Mr. Pickles, before you suck in a breath. “Will, um, will the Sigma Chi guys be there?”

“I think so,” Giselle’s back at her vanity, mouth dropped as she finishes applying the coat of mascara you interrupted. “Why?”

“No reason, just… just wanted to know. Since me and Bob are fifth wheeling.”

“If anything, Bob and Mickey are fifth wheeling. I’d ditch Mickey for you in a heartbeat.” Having moved back to sit next to you, Natasha shoves your shoulder with her own good-naturedly.

Giselle, however, narrows her eyes slightly in faux suspicion, turning around on her vanity stool to look at you. “But what’s that gotta do with the Sigma Chi guys?”

It seems to register for Natasha too, who perks up beside you, and you grab Mr. Pickles to hide your fluster. It only spurs Giselle on though, as she narrows her eyes further.

“No. Stop it,” you point at her warningly. “I do not have a crush. I was only asking because last time, you guys ditched me and I had to listen to Jake talk about NFTs for two hours.”

There’s a part of you that feels bad about lying to your best friend, but you soothe the guilt by insisting it was a half lie.

You know your friends didn’t purposefully mean to ditch you and, truly, you take no offense to it. They’re just getting caught up in their first college relationships, you can’t say you wouldn’t do the same. But it did mean that you occasionally found yourself alone at the frat and sorority parties Giselle could manage to drag you to.

For a while, you had Bob to keep you company. And usually, for the beginning of the night, he still does. You both catch up on classes and homework, swapping notes about professors—you’re thankful he’s also an English major because you’ve been able to register for a few classes together next year. But even he is enticed by the allure of sorority sisters so eventually you wave him off and find yourself sitting somewhat awkwardly in a corner until your friends are ready to go.

And it isn’t like you want to be the tag along—though Giselle and Natasha insist you aren’t. In the beginning, you and Bob had taken the hint of being the last two left single and went on a few dates. They were fun, and you liked hanging out with Bob, just the two of you, but it was clear to you both that you were just friends. You’re painfully and childishly in love with someone else and Bob figured that out on your very first date.

Giselle was slightly bummed that it didn’t work out between the two of you, but you assured her you were fine. Though you do get ditched occasionally, for the most part your group of friends all stick together. It’s rare that you honestly feel left out and if you do… There's always Jake and his NFTs.

Finally Giselle relents and you let out a silent breath of relief. “Well, good because, as someone who’s forced to know them, anyone associated with my brother is not worth your time.” Giselle gives her lashes one last check in the mirror before patting for you to sit down on her vanity stool. “Besides, in that suit I picked out for you? I won’t be the only one sucking face, babe.”

You wrinkle your nose. “I’m not sucking face with a stranger, Giselle, have some decorum.”

“But you could though. What about Landon? He’s pretty cute.” Giselle’s fingers glide over her mascara tubes. She had perfected a pool party makeup routine over the years and both you and Natasha indulge her by letting her help you get ready.

Again you wrinkle your nose, looking up as Giselle pumps the mascara a few times—ultimately deciding on a Pacifica one. “Bob had geography with him last semester and, apparently, he spews off some of the stupidest shit. I think I’ll pass.”

“Hmm—Blink—there’s Tanner?” Giselle holds the mascara wand to your eye. From behind you, you hear the door close as Natasha goes to change into her swimsuit. You snort when she shouts a “Good luck!” over her shoulder.

“Giselle,” you laugh, blinking again when she moves the wand to your other eye. “Please stop trying to set me up with every living, breathing man.”

“I’m not!” She protests, and you grab her hand to let her know you’re partially joking.

“I get you don’t want me to feel left out, but I promise I don’t.”

Giselle sighs, looking down guiltily until you nudge her leg with your own. “I just don’t want you to think that I’m going to ditch you now that everyone’s coming back to California with us for the summer.”

“Giselle, please, I’ve long since accepted that I’ve been replaced with Reuben—” You cut yourself off with a laugh when she whines your name.

“That’s not funny!”

Your eyes crinkle in a grin. “I’m kidding. We’re gonna have a perfect time this summer, and you’re gonna suck all the Reuben face you want, and I’m gonna be fine. Deal?” You stick your pinky out.

“Deal,” Giselle wraps her pinky around yours resolutely before picking up the Pacifica mascara again. “But I’m telling you, you’re gonna look so good tonight that even Sigma Chi won’t know what hit ‘em.”

Bradley’s jaw ticks in annoyance when a downpour of water droplets land on his forearm and chest, the culprit being a freshman who reemerged from his cannonball with a loud holler. Bradley doesn’t understand why Delta Nu even invites freshmen, but then he recalls how they wait on the girls practically hand and foot. He scoffs. Freshman boys are so eager to please.

Still, they’re a nuisance, splashing him with water and encroaching on his time with Makayla. They’re just puppies when he thinks about it, tripping over themselves and practically drooling at the sight of any pretty, older girl in a bikini. Bradley knows he sure as hell wasn’t like that as a freshman. He didn’t need to be, not when he always had girls chasing after him.

Well, except one girl.

Makayla Cunningham had been unattainable to Bradley from the second he stepped foot into Sigma Chi. And the worst part is that she’s perfect for him. The president of Delta Nu, who comes from a wealthy, recognized family. Not once had she so much as looked at another member of Sigma Chi, hardly ever going on dates with college guys period, and, on top of all of that, she’s the hottest girl on campus. She’s successful, drop-dead gorgeous, and unattainable—it’s like the universe was handing Bradley the perfect girl. Except for the fact that she wants nothing to do with him.

Though he wants Makayla, Bradley certainly isn’t abstinent, and he’s built up a bit of a reputation. A reputation that Makayla isn’t fond of. He’s tried to convince her that she’s different, that she’s perfect for him unlike the other girls he’s slept with, but she refuses to hear it.

But, with his senior year on the horizon, Bradley is determined to have her hear it. He knows Makayla loves his attention, she wouldn’t play this game of cat and mouse if she didn’t, but even she has to admit that they’re running out of time.

It unfortunately seems Makayla’s chosen to play games tonight anyway, as she’s been entertaining freshman since Bradley got here, only shooting him sultry smirks when she can tell he’s losing interest. So now he’s sitting between Jake and Javy, getting splashed by freshman boys doing cannonballs and watching them flirt pathetically with his girl. Stupid fucking freshmen. Bradley can’t believe he’s going to have a whole flock of them staying at his house for the summer.

“I’ve had enough of this bullshit,” Bradley gets up with a growl, interrupting Javy who’s been recounting another party he went to the weekend before. He ignores the protests of his friends, making his way to the keg of beer set up in the backyard.

As if everyone can tell what kind of mood he’s in—or maybe it’s just because he’s Bradley Bradshaw—the crowds part and no one stops him for small talk. It only seems to sour his mood more though. If Makayla wants to spend her night with puny freshman Bradley’s not going to stop her, but he certainly isn’t going to sit there and watch her either. Instead, his night’s panning out the way it usually does and he’s going to wake up with a killer hangover and a random girl in his bed.

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous of a couple of freshmen, Bradley.”

Bradley turns around from the keg with a flat expression. Makayla’s standing in front of him, flimsily hiding her smirk behind a red solo cup. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and he rips his gaze away from her to look out at the party surrounding them. “‘M not jealous. Just thirsty.”

“Right,” Makayla teases.

It’s quiet as Bradley takes a sip of his beer, the silence almost uncomfortable as he swallows.

“My answer’s still no, Bradley.”

He hums, his tone slightly bored when he responds. “And why’s that?”

“Because you’re not a boyfriend,” Makayla laughs. “Like, I’d hook up with you—”

“You know that’s not what I want,” Bradley cuts in.

“Well, I don’t want a boyfriend who’s gonna treat me like a hookup.”

Bradley’s jaw ticks again. “I’m not gonna treat you like a hookup.”

“Bradley, you’ve never had a girlfriend,” Makayla laughs incredulously. “You wouldn’t know how to treat me right.”

“You think that just because I don’t date means I don’t know how to treat a girl?” Bradley scoffs, taking another sip of his beer.

Makayla pauses for a moment, saying nothing for several seconds. Suddenly, she turns to him with a challenge in her voice. “Fine. You think you can be a good boyfriend? Prove it.”

“What?”

“Prove it,” Makayla sounds more resolute and, again, that smirk is on her face. “If you think you know how to treat me, prove it to me.”

“And how the fuck would I do that?” Bradley cinches his brows.

Makayla looks around the party, her eyes mischievous as she turns back to Bradley with a sugar sweet smile. “If you can prove to me that you can keep a girlfriend the entire summer, I’ll go out with you. Think of it as a trial period.”

“You serious?” Bradley can’t help the smirk growing on his face. He hardly considers it a challenge, not when there’s a campus full of girls who do just about anything to be called his girlfriend. “I just gotta keep a girlfriend for a couple months?”

“Hold it, hotshot, I didn’t finish. I pick the girl,” Makayla grins when Bradley’s expression drops. Her eyes go back to trailing over the college students swimming and lounging in her backyard. “I know you, Bradley, and I know there’s plenty of girls that would let you treat them like shit and stay with you regardless. No, she needs to be someone desperate enough to get with you before summer, but not insecure enough to stick around.” Her eyes still suddenly, lighting up as they take in your figure smiling along with your friends but still clearly an odd one out.

Makayla smirks. “Her.”

Bradley squints at you, pursing his lips. You’re pretty at least, and there’s something about you that seems familiar even though he’s never seen you before. He watches as you speak animatedly to a girl whose back is facing him. You’re smiling brightly before you throw your head back with a laugh.

“Just the summer? And you’ll go out with me?” He checks.

“You last the summer,” Makayla nods, “and I’ll go out with you, Bradley. Deal?” She holds her hand out.

Bradley looks away from you, grabbing Makayla’s hand in his own. “Deal.”

“Oh,” you giggle to Natasha, looking down at your empty cup. “I’m gonna get another drink.”

Despite your hesitance, you’re actually having a good time. The late spring air feels nice on your skin and the air has dropped a bit to make it the perfect temperature. Though you’ll never tell her, you think Giselle was right, you needed this party to remind you that summer was just around the corner.

You make your way around a group of sorority girls, smiling politely and nodding to the ones who recognize you. When Giselle first told you she was joining a sorority, you and Natasha hadn’t exactly been thrilled about the idea. You’ve come around to it more now—the girls aren’t nearly as mean as movies make them out to be, but you can’t lie that you’re still slightly scared of them.

Shaking off the thought to continue your quest for a drink, you pick up your pace to reach the cooler of beers and soda that’s been haphazardly set on the grassy lawn. You search through the cubes of ice, smiling delightedly when your hands find a Sprite. You grab a straw from the cup beside the cooler, opening your can and popping it in to take a much needed sip of your lemon lime soda.

Maybe there’s a part of you that’s a bit buzzed from the few sips of Mickey’s drink you tried earlier because, when you stand up from the cooler too quickly, you’re knocked completely off balance. You take a couple steps back to catch yourself—your feet trying to catch up with the rest of your body.

“Hey, now,” a low voice sends shivers down your spine, two large hands holding your hips in place and stilling your feet. Calloused skin seeps warmth around the ties of your bikini bottoms. “Careful, sunshine.”

You take a nervous sip of your drink as if that will delay the inevitable, turning around slowly as your teeth clench down and flatten your straw. The sight before you almost makes you trip again and—somehow worse—reminds you that hands are still holding you up by your hips.

In front of you is a wet, shirtless Bradley Bradshaw, ball cap slung backwards on his head to hide the wet strands of curled caramel that are slicked against his scalp. Your eyes trail down to follow the beads of water rolling across the divots and dips of his abdomen, his relaxed muscles glistening in the setting sun. You can’t look away from the water droplets until they physically disappear, absorbing into the waistband of his swim shorts—which hang so low that his defined hips are completely on display, tan skin taut against his muscles and bones. You swallow thickly.

When you manage to pull your gaze away, Bradley is smirking at you, fingers fiddling with the strings of your bikini, making it very apparent that he’d caught your borderline awe of his body.

“Um, nice, um, nice bathing suit,” you try to cover and, had it not been more embarrassing to have Bradley see you cringe at your own words, you would have.

Bradley lets out a light snort, shoulders jumping slightly with the air that leaves his nose. “You too.”

His hands are still on your hips, a position far too intimate considering it seems like he doesn’t even recognize you. Your heart sinks a bit at that. For a lot of her friends, growing up with Giselle Bradshaw meant inevitably having a crush on Bradley. You weren’t quite special in that regard, you’re just unlucky enough to have never grown out of it. Even almost a decade later, he still makes your cheeks hot and your knees jelly.

However, you’re still coherent enough to know that, if you let Bradley continue playing with your bikini bottoms, you’ll do something far more embarrassing than just ogle him. Subtly you take a step back, putting some much needed space in between the two of you. Part of you thinks you’re only imagining it, but Bradley almost seems disappointed that you did.

He recovers from it quickly though, taking his hat off to rake a hand through his hair before putting it back on. “Sorry.” You have to physically stop your eyebrows from raising. You don’t think you’ve ever heard Bradley apologize before. “Didn’t mean to almost knock you out.”

“No, it was— It was my fault. I should have watched where I was going...” you trail off quietly, keeping your eyes trained on your drink.

When you say nothing more, Bradley wets his lips. “You got a name, sunshine?”

“You—” That gets you to look at him and you hope you don’t come off as hurt as you feel. “You wanna know my name?”

You and Bradley had never been close, you know that and you never tried to pretend that you were. But you’ve been Giselle’s best friend since you were five years old. You spent more summers at her house than you did your own. You never expected Bradley to consider you friends, but you thought he would have at least recognized you.

You don’t know if you should be grateful that Bradley is oblivious to your inner monologue, but he is, a smirk growing on his face as he mistakes your dejectedness for humility. “That so hard to believe?”

You want to say yes. Yes, it is, given that you’ve known him for 14 years of your life. But before you can even begin to piece any words together, you hear a loud shout of your name. Giselle’s feet scamper across the concrete pool deck as she laughs out apologies to the people she’s weaving through to get to you. There’s a bright smile on her face—that quickly dissolves at the sight of her older brother.

“Is he bothering you?” Giselle glares at Bradley accusingly, but the elder Bradshaw doesn’t even seem to notice, his eyes tracing over you in genuine shock as your name falls from his lips in a soft mumble. You watch a flicker of recognition pass over his features.

“Shit.”

Taking a step closer to Giselle, you purse your lips as you realize what’s happened. Bradley’s embarrassed that he tried flirting with you now that he knows it’s you. You clear your throat softly. “Thanks for catching me, Bradley. It was, um, nice to see you again.”

With that you turn around, ignoring Giselle’s pestering questions as you let her lead you back to Natasha and the rest of your friends. Humiliation burns at your shoulders and neck and you’re far too modified to even attempt looking back at Bradley. You try to drown it all out with a long sip of your drink, letting Giselle distract you as you do your best to forget all about her older brother.

Behind you, Bradley watches the back of your white bathing suit for a moment, before he tips his head back and runs a hand over his face. Bradley groans. “I am so fucked.”

“Sunshine!”

You almost think you're hallucinating when you see Bradley Bradshaw waiting outside the department building your class was in. But you know you’re hallucinating when it seems like he’s waiting for you. You go on as normal, not looking at him as you continue your usual route to the library. He’s certainly not talking to you and you’re not about to make a fool out of yourself for the second time.

There’s a sound of footsteps, though there always is right after classes get let out, so you think nothing of it until there’s a blur of navy blue in your peripheral. You furrow your brows, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk and the navy blue slows to a stop with you. Your head has to crane up to look at him and your eyes widen when it finally clicks in your brain that Bradley is standing in front of you in a tight fitting navy blue t-shirt.

“Bradley?”

He grins, running a hand through his hair. His biceps strain against the sleeves of his t-shirt. “Were you just planning on ignoring me?”

“I didn’t—” You open and close your mouth a couple times, having to take a step closer to Bradley when someone tries to pass you both on the sidewalk. “Is Giselle okay?”

“What?” Now it’s Bradley’s turn to look almost as confused as you.

You genuinely don’t think this could get anymore embarrassing and you look down so you don’t get flustered by Bradley’s honey brown eyes—because that’s the last thing you need right now. “Sorry, I just assumed… that’s why you’d be talking to me.”

Bradley almost seems to wince at that, but you’re sure you’re imagining it. Really you just want to get out of here and you’re trying to come up with a feasible excuse when Bradley looks somewhere over your head. You’re about to say something when his hands are suddenly on your hips and he’s yanking you into him with a force that has you tripping. You let out a yelp as you collide with his chest, your hands pressing against the firm muscles of his chest.

The answer to this sudden movement comes in the form of a group of three girls walking right where you had been moments ago. Bradley looks down at you, the corner of his lip lifting in a lopsided smile. “Sorry.” There he was apologizing again. “I got a thing for almost tripping you, huh?” He lifts one of his hands to scratch the back of his neck after a moment when you don’t respond. “So, where you headed?”

“The, um, the library.”

“Me too,” Bradley lights up slightly.

You have to physically close your mouth before you blurt out your surprise at that statement. Because Bradley doesn’t study. Most of the time Bradley doesn’t even go to his classes, Giselle is always complaining about how he just shows up for the exams and somehow always passes.

“Okay…” you trail off. You really don’t want to go to the library with him. Not when you’re still close enough to him that his cologne is dizzying and one of his hands is still on your hip and he’s looking at you with those big, brown eyes—

Yeah, you have to go.

“Oh,” you pretend to wince. “I left something I need in my dorm. I should probably go back to get it.”

Bradley deflates slightly, looking at you with an unreadable expression. He wets his lips. “Before you go, can I ask you something?”

Your grip tightens on your backpack straps and you can only manage a small nod.

“Will you go on a date with me?”

You blink. And then again. And again. “What?”

“C’mon, sunshine,” Bradley smiles like he hasn’t just destroyed all that you believe to be true about the world in three seconds. “I’ll take you to mini golf, we'll get some food after.”

“Mini golf?”

Bradley’s smile falters. “Or— Or something else, I guess. What do you want to do?”

“No, I mean—” You try to build up some courage from the fact that Bradley appears to be losing some of his. “You want to go on a date with me?”

“That so hard to believe?” Bradley repeats his words from the weekend and, again, you find yourself wanting to tell him that yes, it is.

Your entire life, Bradley has never once paid you any attention and now he’s suddenly flirting with you at pool parties and asking you on dates. Maybe Giselle really was right about that bikini.

“Okay,” you say finally.

Bradley pauses. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod, letting out a breath to steady yourself. “I’ll go on a date with you, Bradley.”

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bookshelf-dust · 1 year

Text

really know him

part i part ii part iii part iv

eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 3,987

warnings: swearing, slight sexual innuendos, mentions of past trauma, reader has tough relationship with parents, fluff (let me know if i missed anything)

a/n: hi!! yeah, yeah, it’s been an entire month since you got the first part of this and i’m sorry, i swear!! but school has been kicking the shit out of me. anyways, i’m happy with this, and i think it’s given this story a good sort of push in the right direction. there is one line that is hopper’s dialogue that you might catch. i hope you like it!!! love you and happy reading <333

“You see things, and you understand. You’re a wallflower.”

————

Eddie’s mouth is full when Wayne speaks. The food hasn’t even cooled off enough for anyone normal to eat it, but Eddie doesn’t care. He’s so fucking hungry. He swears he feels like this—like he’s never eaten before—at least once a day.

“How long you and Y/N been seein’ each other?” Wayne’s got his arms crossed on the tabletop, letting his dinner cool some while his nephew allows noodles and cheese to burn the shit out of the roof of his mouth.

Eddie knows it’s just Hamburger Helper but it’s so fucking good. He swallows, and takes a sip of his drink before he responds.

Eddie’s leg starts to bounce and Wayne gently kicks his calf to get him to quit and take a breather. It works, like it always does.

“How do you know her name? And we aren’t seeing each other. We’re friends.” He shoves more noodles in his mouth and chews for a minute while he thinks. Wayne just watches him, the beginnings of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Well, acquaintances, I guess.”

Wayne snorts. “I don’t think you have acquaintances at twenty, Ed.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and stabs his fork into the center of his bowl. He wipes his hands and moves his hair from where it’s slipped over his shoulders.

His hair is wet.

Ever since Eddie was a kid, a little while after Wayne got him, he’s tried to take his shower while Wayne fixes dinner with the goal of being finished by the time the food is on the table. He did that very same thing today.

He does it even when they get takeout and tries to shower in the time Wayne is gone. He does it in the time it takes his frozen pizza to cook when he has to eat alone because Hellfire runs past the time Wayne leaves for work.

Selfishly, Wayne hopes Eddie keeps this up. It makes him happy to see that childlike attitude run rampant.

“I know her name because she’s lived here since her parents had her. I know everybody in this godforsaken park.”

Eddie takes a sip of his Dr. Pepper, slurping it obnoxiously. “Pulling the old and wise thing, huh?”

Wayne reaches the slim distance across the tiny table and wacks Eddie on the head, though it’s absolutely void of malice. “Ow!” Eddie exclaims as if he’s been brutally beaten.

“And we aren’t seeing each other. I haven’t talked to her since before she graduated, actually. I just saw her the other night and we’ve just been…” Eddie gestures with his hands, flailing for a word or anything to describe what’s happening between you and him.

You’re not friends. Right?

And you’re definitely not anything more, but it’s not like Eddie would mind that. Being more. He’s sort of always had a thing for you. He’s never told anyone that.

Maybe it had been a little subdued, but seeing you the other night had it rushing back, a wave crashing over and toppling him.

Eddie’s been kind of worried about you since, actually. You didn’t want to talk about why you were upset, and he respected that, but he still wanted to know. He really didn’t like seeing you that way, and he wants to fix it, but he can’t if you don’t let him in.

“Hanging out,” Eddie finally finishes, dropping his hands.

Wayne takes the last few bites of his dinner and looks at his nephew. It’s not hard for Wayne to see that his boy feels something for you. Not with the blush spreading across Eddie’s cheeks.

It’s like when Eddie was young and he’d ride his bike through the trailer park, or to a friend's house and he’d come back flushed. He looks out of breath. But he’s feeling this way because of you.

Wayne thinks that’s pretty damn special. He thinks there’s something in you that’s opening up a part of Eddie he’s never seen before. Like you’re cracking open his boyish soul.

“Hanging out?”

Eddie chugs the rest of his Dr. Pepper, pretending like he’s not being interrogated. He gets up and pulls another from the fridge, setting the other by the sink where he can rinse it out later.

He spoons more food into his bowl. They’re definitely not going to have leftovers.

“Yes, Wayne.”

“Does it still count as hanging out if you haven’t even gone out?”

“Jesus H. Christ, we’re friends okay?”

Wayne laughs. It’s one of Eddie’s favorite sounds in the world, but he’s never told his uncle that.

Wayne stands, taking his dishes to the sink to wash. He rinses out Eddie’s can and tosses it in the recycling bin.

“Hey, I was gonna do that!” Eddie whines.

“No you weren’t, Ed. But anyways, your friend can come over anytime she likes.”

Eddie drops his forehead against the countertop, face burning. He’s supposed to be too old for this shit.

————

Your parents aren’t home. In fact, they’re gone for the weekend, which means you’re alone. It means that the trailer is quiet and you don’t have to lock yourself in your bedroom or storm outside and cry on a rickety picnic table.

You’re taking advantage of the free couch when you hear the mailman outside. You hop up, knowing that if you don’t collect all of the mail you’ll hear about it. But this also gives you your chance to be nosy and see what kinds of things your parents are being sent.

You hop down the steps, wishing you’d put on a jacket because it’s a lot chillier than you’d expected. You meander down the road a little ways to the row of mailboxes containing yours.

You’re nose deep, retrieving the newspaper and a small stack of what you’re sure is mostly junk, when a car door slams and makes you jump.

You use your elbow to close the mailbox door, and when you spin around you’re met with a cheesy grin and a mess of curls belonging to one Eddie Munson.

“Jesus Christ,” you smile, “Hi, Eddie.”

He grins, spinning his key ring around his index finger. “Hey. How are we this afternoon, m’lady?”

“Okay. Just get done with school, buddy?”

“Oh fuck you,” Eddie laughs. It makes you grin and Eddie thinks he’s swooning. Like, big time.

Your eyes crinkle and these sweet lines form around your mouth. You’re so pretty. So pretty, he thinks.

“But yeah.” Eddie scratches his nose like he wants to say more but he needs a second before he goes for it. “Passed a quiz today and everything,” he finishes.

He doesn’t usually talk about his academic-related endeavors with anyone, but he’s got this feeling that you’ll be supportive. You’ve never once looked at him like he was stupid, or didn’t deserve your time.

One day towards the end of your first and only senior year, the both of you sat in the back of the class, your nose buried in a book, and Eddie had placed a finger against the page to get your attention. He’d said he wasn’t graduating, and you didn’t judge him. Maybe that’s why he’s always had this thing for you. Because you don’t think he’s this piece of shit freak.

Your grin gets bigger. It’s so much better than the sad way you looked at him the other night.

“Oh yeah? That’s so good! I’m proud of you, Eddie.”

Eddie blushes. You see it. He feels it. There’s no going around this and suddenly he’s afraid you’ll point it out.

You don’t. You just tuck that little bit of information—that Eddie seems fond of praise—away for another time.

A letter slips from your hand but Eddie is quick to catch it, before it even hits the ground.

“Sorry,” you say.

“It’s okay.” He slides it in between two other pieces of mail from the stack tucked in the crook of your arm.

The both of you stand there awkwardly then, you not knowing what to do next, Eddie realizing he didn’t really have a plan for what he was going to say when he came over here.

You turn a little, like you’re going to walk back towards your home, and Eddie freaks out inside. He doesn’t want you to go. Again. Dammit. He’s totally done for. And even Wayne had seen it, hadn’t he? Fuck.

You decide to go for it. “Do you wanna come inside for a while? I mean, of course you don’t have to, at all, but you know, if you wanted to…shit, I don’t know,” you falter. “I guess I just thought, since you’re here—”

“Sure. I mean, as long as you’re sure, but yeah,” he drags a hand over his face, lashes leaving shadows on the skin under his eyes, to hide the fact that he’s gone shy at your offer. “Yeah, I want to.”

The words hanging out flash through his mind and Eddie has the sudden urge to bang his head against a wall.

You take that as your queue, walking towards and then up your porch steps. “I’m assuming you’re following me,” you say, pulling the screen door open.

Eddie was not, in fact, following you, too off in his own world. He clambers up behind you, holding the door open above your head while you push your way inside. He pulls it shut after he steps up, watching you toss the mail on the counter and move around your home.

There’s something interesting to him about watching you like this. Where you look calm.

You flop down on the couch, patting the cushion beside you. Eddie follows your flop with an even more aggressive one, leather and chain making quite the noise as his weight settles into the sofa.

Eddie notices how quiet it is, and he can’t stand that. His brain doesn’t allow quiet.

“Your parents at work or something?” He inquires.

You move so that your back is to the arm of the couch and you’re now facing the boy you’ve just let in, pulling your legs up underneath you.

“They’re out for the weekend. Visiting in laws or something like that. I said I had too much homework to do so I could get out of it, which is true, I do have homework, I just didn’t want to go.”

Eddie shifts to mirror your position, lanky limbs splaying out a little less gracefully. He’s smiling at you again. It starts small, a slow grin spreading across his face.

“What are you smiling for, dumbass?”

He tosses his head back and your gaze falls to his neck for just a second. Though a second long enough for you to think about what it would feel like against your fingers—

He looks back at you. “Didn’t you just say you were proud of me for making an academic achievement?”

“I did. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t still a dumbass.”

Eddie snorts. “Well, at least it’s not ‘freak.’”

You cross your arms, feeling a little angry about how people have treated him in the past. “You’re not a freak.”

He scratches at his chin and you notice it looks like he might not have shaved in a few days. “Maybe in some ways I am.”

You run both hands over your face, trying to suppress the burning deep in your belly. “I bet so,” you mumble. You lower your hands just enough to look over them and Eddie quirks a brow at you.

You start to laugh behind your fingers and it makes him do the same until you’re both sitting there giggling like children over an immature joke.

“So you’re gonna be alone all weekend?” Eddie manages to ask through a breathy laugh.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “It’s not the first time, Munson.”

Eddie is home alone all the time, but for some reason he doesn’t like the idea of you being alone like that. He wants you safe. Comfortable.

The words are tumbling out of his mouth before he can stop them. “Why don’t you spend the night with me?”

“Huh?”

“You know, so you don’t have to be alone and whatnot.” He gestures with his hands. He’s scrambling for even a fraction of proper brain function at this point. It’s evading him.

“Eddie.”

“Come on. You literally have to walk across the road.”

You stare at him and he stares right back. Eddie studies the lines of your face, the color of your eyes, the way you’ve got a crease between your brows because of how hard you’re thinking this over. It looks like you’re contemplating a life or death situation. That situation is Eddie. Spending the night with Eddie Munson.

“Are you sure about this? You literally watched me sob a few days ago and now you want me to just hang out in your house? I could be a murderer.”

Eddie spins the ring on his marriage finger around and around. “Are you? A murderer?” “Not last time I checked.” He laughs. “Then I don’t see the problem here.” “We barely know each other.” “How are we supposed to get to know each other if we don’t hang out? Isn’t that what sleepovers are for anyways?”

“That makes it sound like you’ve never had a sleepover before.” Eddie pulls his knee up and rests his chin on top of it, pale skin peeking out from the tears in his jeans. “Does being too stoned to drive home and passing out on your friends couch count? Or on his bedroom floor?”

That makes you laugh and the sight of your smile makes Eddie feel exponentially better. He’s starting to think it could heal any ailment. “There she is,” he says, swatting your calf with the back of his hand. It makes you burn and you think about when you actually held his hand. You want to do it again.

You look around your living room, trying to avoid the big brown eyes you can feel boring into you. One look and you’ll give in–you just know it.

“Okay. I’ll spend the night with you.”

“Ha! I knew you’d say that.” Eddie jumps up, clearly excited. He juts out a hand in your direction and you just look at it. “Come on,” he says, tilting his head to the side.

You slip your hand into his and let him pull you up. “No more m’lady’s?” you ask.

Eddie grins brilliantly. He looks boyish, like he’s just found some new bug he needs to show you. “I’ll give you as many m’lady’s as you want. Now come on and pack your shit. We’ve got bonding to do.”

————

“Is this really necessary?”

“Lift that corner, yeah! See? You got it.” Eddie watches you step around the mess that is his bedroom floor and help him heave his mattress up off the box spring. Once you’ve got it up, he starts to walk backwards and guide the both of you—sort of blindly—down the hall. “And yes, this is completely necessary.”

“If you say so,” you grunt, almost knocking a picture frame off the wall.

“Let me live for fucks sake,” Eddie says. He’d already moved the coffee table out of the way, so you’re able to just drop the mattress on the floor in front of the couch.

Eddie stands across from you, slightly out of breath which you find a little funny. “You can go put your pajamas on if you want,” he tells you.

You grin. “Oh, can I?”

The both of you had already eaten, Eddie having ordered a pizza because there was legitimately nothing to eat anywhere. His sleepover planning was admittedly very poor. But yeah, he wanted you to go put your pjs on so he could actually do something he’d come up with.

“Yes. You can. Hurry it up m’lady, we have shit to watch.”

You give him a two finger salute. “Whatever you say, boss.”

Eddie waits for you to make it to his room and shut the door behind you before he gets to work. He changes the bottom sheet–the only sheet he uses because he finds top sheets obnoxious–on his mattress and shoves it in the washing machine to take care of later. He’ll probably forget and Wayne will berate him, but it’ll have been worth it.

He opens the linen closet and pulls out a new sheet and some of the others that are in there. He pulls out the best blanket for you too, the really thick one that they don’t use all that often. Eddie looks at it for just a second before tossing it on the couch, remembering the day he came to Wayne’s. The day that this became his home too. Wayne had done something similar to this, actually. He’d let Eddie sleep with him. That night had been so hard and Eddie was just a kid.

Finally he gets back to work, sheet having been changed, dining chairs moved to either side of the mattress closest to the couch.

Eddie puts one end of the sheet he’s using on the back of the sofa, stacking his D&D handbooks on top of it in hopes that it will hold. He steps back tentatively, hands up like he’s surrendering. “Stay,” he mutters, eyeing the books.

He stretches the sides of the sheet over the backs of the chairs, using chip bag clips to keep it in place. The end result is a sort of canopy over his mattress. Eddie thinks it’s one hell of a fort, actually. He’s sat on the edge, looking through a stack of VHS tapes when you come out.

Eddie looks up at you, doe eyes on full display. He looks so pretty, and even prettier when you realize what he’s made. You bring a hand up to your mouth, automatically sticking your nail just in between your lips to hide your growing smile.

Eddie thinks you look gorgeous like this: pajamas too big for you, socked feet shuffling across the floor. You look comfortable.

“Eddie.”

He stands. “You like it? I mean, it’s definitely unstable and we’re gonna have to be careful, but I think it’s kinda nice. I gotta get pillows, though.”

“I do like it,” you say, moving your hand from your face. You’re trying not to be nervous around him when he’s being so kind to you. So welcoming. “You didn’t have to do all of this just for me.”

Eddie crosses his arms. “You think I did this for you? I hate to break it to you, but I do this sort of thing all the time.” You giggle at him, seeing right through his antics. He likes that—that you don’t seem scared of him. That you don’t look at him like he’s mean.

He grabs for your sleeve where you’re tugging at a loose thread on it, trying to get you to quit from fidgeting. He knows what that feels like. But he wants you to know that it’s just him. It’s just Eddie, and you’re more than safe with Eddie, contrary to what the rest of Hawkins might think.

“I’m just kidding,” he tells you, eyes boring into yours. “I wanted to.”

You fight to keep eye contact with him. He really shouldn’t hold this kind of power, but he does.

“Thank you.”

“The pleasure was all mine, m’lady.” He bows, and you swat at his shoulder. He’s still snickering when he disappears into his room to change.

————

You hadn’t meant to match pajama bottoms, but when Eddie had seen yours, he knew he should put his similar ones on.

So now, here you sit, in your designated fort, and wearing matching plaid pants. Eddie has his arm around your shoulder, and you’ve tucked yourself into his side. Your hand keeps creeping along his stomach, and Eddie knows you're working up the courage to wrap your arm fully around his waist.

When you’d felt the weight of him settle over your shoulders, your breath had hitched, but Eddie took it in stride. “It’s just me,” he’d said. And that had seemed to calm you down.

Eddie had let you pick the movie, and you’d chosen Gremlins, which he was more than happy to watch with you. He thought watching something the both of you had already seen would not only ease some tension, but make it so that you could talk during the film if you wanted.

On the screen, Gizmo propels himself upward on a snow shovel, and you giggle at his screams as he flies through the air.

“Sorry,” you say to Eddie, chest shaking with laughter. He snorts at your hysterics.

After you’ve finally hooked your arm around him fully, and the movie is coming to an end, Eddie decides to breach the topic that’s been bugging him since that night.

“Any chance you might wanna talk about why you were so upset the other night?” He hopes he hasn’t overstepped, that he hasn’t pushed too far too quickly.

You move your hand and he worries you’ll retract it completely, but you just sit up, still pressed next to him, just no longer clinging to him. You tuck your fingers under his knee where his leg is stretched out beside you. He welcomes the gesture.

“I just had an argument with my parents, is all. Got upset, but you saw that.”

He turns to look at you, and you look back for a second before continuing to watch the movie. “Was it bad?”

“Just loads of yelling, on their part. They’re very good at hurting my feelings.”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, and he means it. You look at him then, and you smile. It’s soft, but it tells him all he needs to know. You’re hurting, but you’re used to it. He hates that he understands.

“It’s okay. It’s just that college is hard, and then I come home and I’m tired, and then they want to fuss at me for everything and nothing. Sometimes I feel like I’m some kind of black hole or something.”

Your fingers squeeze Eddie’s knee a little. He pulls your hand from his leg and intertwines your fingers with his. There’s a little part of you that warms, that screams, hand holding, hand holding! You’re glad he’s holding your hand.

“They fucking suck for making you feel that way, you know.” That makes you grin, so Eddie keeps going. “You don’t deserve to feel that way. Not even a little bit. The entire time I’ve known you, even if we haven’t been more than acquaintances, you’ve been a sweetheart. You’ve been kind, and understanding.”

Your eyes water but you refuse to cry in front of him a second time. He’s just being so nice.

“Thank you, Eddie.” You drop your forehead against his shoulder, and he kisses your hairline. You burn at the feeling of his lips, full and warm, against your skin.

“You’re safe with me, you know. You can come over wherever you want. And we can watch Gremlins,” he finishes with a breathy laugh.

“I really appreciate that.”

Eddie looks into your eyes. There’s something sweet behind them. He nods.

“What do you wanna do when you’re done with school anyhow?” he asks, realizing a little too late that you’ve probably been asked that a hundred times, but how else is he supposed to figure out the answer.

“I’d like to write,” you tell him.

“Like, books and shit?” He’s not teasing. He’s really asking.

“That’d be nice, yeah.” It really would. The big unattainable dream.

“That’s very metal of you. Maybe I’ll get you to help me plot a campaign sometime. The stories can get a little tricky in this fucked up brain of mine,” Eddie says.

“Really?” You look excited at the idea.

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” The smile on his face is brilliant.

“Maybe I’ll even teach you how to play. If you want.”

“That’d be nice too, Eddie.”

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

tagging: @ajkamins @golddustwitches @copycatkillerfics @prestinalove @zaypay @clovermunson

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson fluff #wayne munson #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson series #eddie munson angst #savannah’s fics

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elisela · 9 months

Note

‘this is my husband/boyfriend/partner etc.’ + NurseyDex

that's mine nurseydex, alternating pov

Nursey goes flying. Headfirst into the goal, arms flailing, Will thinks he hears a yelp sort of flying. He only resists the urge to roll his eyes because Bitty’s looking right at him and he doesn’t want a lecture.

Still—when one of the assholes on the other team barks out a laugh and says, “Who was that, Bambi?”, Will can’t help but sigh.

“That’s my teammate, asshole,” he says, and cuts over to check him against the boards.

—

Derek misses the days that the frogs were wide-eyed and respectful in the Haus. These kids—he’s going to need some sense knocked into them soon. They’re loud, rowdy, and far too interested in integrating into the group by joining in on the teasing, which is a right they have not yet earned.

Like now, when they’re giggling to themselves and looking at him.

“So—” one of them starts, smirking, and never finishes.

“So,” Derek repeats, jerking his thumb at Dex, “that’s my roommate.”

The laughter grates on his nerves, but not as much as pretending he doesn’t care about sharing a room with Dex.

—

Nursey is … singing? Will thinks that’s what he’s trying to do at least, and he’s heard him sing almost every day in the shower so the warbling coming out of his mouth is surprising. He’s not saying Nursey is good by any means, but he can sound decent with the right song and this … this is not the right song.

He doubts the fact that all the words being slurred thanks to being absolutely trashed is helping.

Will stays at the bar until the song is done, resolutely facing away from the somewhat dimly-lit karaoke stage so he doesn’t get dragged into participating. Luckily—or not, considering Ransom and Holster seem to have disappeared so the drunken idiot is now his responsibility—Nursey doesn’t say anything when he comes crashing up to the bar except, “Tequila shots?”

Will can barely understand him, but the look on his face—the one that appears whenever Nursey thinks he’s had a particularly good idea—speaks volumes. “Water,” he says firmly, sliding a waiting pint glass over.

He really doesn’t understand whatever Nursey mumbles then, but he has more pressing problems, because his lap—previously empty of everything except his coat—is now occupied. “Jesus,” he mutters, trying to wiggle away. “Dude—Nursey—”

“S’comfy,” Nursey says, and Will tries once more to get him to move to his own seat with no avail.

The bartender, when she returns, gives Will a raised eyebrow. “He bothering you? I can get him out.”

Will sighs. “He’s a friend,” he says, and adds, “so he pretty much bothers me all the time.”

“Ya love me, pretty boy,” Nursey says. He starts to laugh—at what, Will has no clue—but it makes him wiggle in a way that Will isn’t sure he’s entirely comfortable with, and Nursey goes sliding to his own seat after another shove.

“Shut up and drink your water,” Will says, and motions to close their tab.

—

“That’s Jack,” Derek says, nudging his grandmother and pointing at the television, where Jack is leaning on the boards and chatting with the coach. “He’s on the Falconers.”

“I’m rooting for them,” she says, and tuts when Derek makes an aborted noise. “Hush, you don’t get to choose who I like. Is he a defender?”

Derek’s been playing hockey most of his life and every time he watches a game with his grandma it’s like she’s never heard of the sport before. “No, he’s not a defenseman,” he says. God help him, he’s never going to get through this game alive.

The shot switches to a close-up and she hums. “Handsome.”

Derek shrugs. Jack’s fine, he supposes. A bit too bland for him, nothing that really stands out, not like—”And that’s Dex—Will—over there, in the white. Will—he’s my—” he swallows a bit too hard.

“If you think I haven’t figured out you like men and women, Derek, we’re going to need to have a conversation regarding your assumptions about my intelligence.”

He wonders if God would actually strike him down if he prayed hard enough. “He’s my boyfriend, Gram,” he says, staring resolutely at the television.

She hums again. “That Jack is more handsome though, don’t you think?”

It’s going to be a long game.

—

Will’s trying to hide. Table at the back, hat still on and pulled down low, black hoodie and black jeans. Anything to make himself blend into the background, because he doesn’t want to be caught dead here.

He also doesn’t want to be involved in any conversations, not that the girls at the table next to him have picked up on that. He’d made two fatal errors: being cordial when one of them had said hello, and admitting he’s never been to an open-mic poetry night.

They haven’t stopped talking to him since.

“Okay, this guy—I’m not sure he’s your type, you know? Not that you aren’t like, super intelligent—I mean you’re here, right, so obviously—but he has a lot of heavy themes in his work if you really dig in and you really need to hear them a few times to peel back the layers. I’m hoping he reads the tree above the grave again, it’s—”

She cuts off, finally, when a cough sounds from the front and Derek begins to speak. There’s utter silence while he recites words that Will’s heard a hundred times over in various iterations, tweaked and stressed and polished until he could probably say them in his sleep, then an excited outburst of conversation among applaus when it’s over.

“Amazing, right?” she says, and keeps talking while Will nods. “Have you heard of him before?”

Will looks at her. “He’s the one I came for,” he answers honestly, grinning for the first time all night when he sees Derek making his way over. “He’s my husband.”

#'this is the only fic i'll write' i said #ha #what an idiot i am #nurseydex #missanniewhimsy #eli writes #omgcp

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thebibutterflyao3 · 5 months

Text

Day 9 - Prompt: Tragedy @jegulus-microfic December Daily Series - 497 words.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Regulus’s hands were trembling. He squeezed them into fists at his sides as he tried to refocus on the music. Rhianna’s Stay was a dynamic song to skate to, but the lyrics were a little too apropos at the moment.

Round and around, and around we go. Oh, now, tell me now, tell me now, you know.

Somehow, he'd given himself away. His absurd crush was exposed and James seemed determined to make the situation as awkward as possible. Which was inexplicably worse for everyone involved.

“Reggie? What was that about?” Sirius demanded, sliding directly into his path and cutting him off.

Regulus skidded to an abrupt stop and huffed. It was distracting enough to have James looming over his shoulder, matching his hip rolls with far more dexterity than he’d expected. He struggled to maintain any semblance of attention to the choreography when his gaze was constantly darting to the corner of his eye to catch a glimpse of James instead. Now, his brother had abandoned all respect for rink decorum.

“Will you move?” he retorted, flailing a hand at him.

“No, not until you explain what that fit was about.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and glared. “Potter was shadowing me. Would you rather I kicked him in the face with a jump?”

Sirius scoffed, “Don’t be a prick. He backed off as soon as he realised that you were annoyed by it. You didn’t have to tell him off too.”

“I didn’t tell him off. I was civil and direct.”

“If that was you being civil, your dating life must be tragic.”

Regulus sneered. “If mine is a tragedy, then yours is a comedy. It’s pathetic how desperate you are for attention.”

“Piss off. At least I can pull regularly. When was the last time you got laid, hmm?” Sirius taunted.

Heat flooded from his chest to his hairline. Regulus knew that he must be flushed an unflattering shade of beet red. It wasn’t so much his brother’s audacity that flustered him as it was his inability to argue against his accusation. There wasn’t much interest in a snarky, self-isolating, posh prat, as his few friends helpfully advised him.

“Oh Reggie, tell me it wasn’t Barty?” Sirius’s triumphant expression dropped like a stone. “That was ages ago!”

“No, now will you move? I’d like to finish this.”

Sirius gripped his shoulders tight. “Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought that up, but you can’t take it out on James. He’s a good person and he’s just trying to get to know you.”

“I’m not here to make friends, Sirius. This was supposed to be about me and you. If I’m getting in the way of your family holiday or upsetting the Potters, then I’ll just leave.”

“No! Stop that, they want you here too. Now quit acting like a cunt and pretend to be a nice person, yeah?” he teased.

Regulus flipped him off and Sirius grinned.

“Love you too, little brother.”

Next Part>>>

#jegulus #james potter #regulus black #starchaser #sirius black #jegulus microfic

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soulofapatrick · 1 year

Text

Backseat of his Brother’s Car - Tommy Miller x Reader

Summary: Tommy picks you up from work, both of you having missed each other recently with your work schedules meaning there's a lot of pent up frustration

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: Smut; riding; p in v; fingering; a little bit of overstimulation; fluff; established relationship

Notes: I had this idea for a while but didn’t have the motivation to finish it until @thesapphirequeen send me an ask with a similar prompt

Y/N’s POV

The cafe is always quiet after seven pm as the workers are mostly home by now but there’s always a few stragglers who have had to work late or the students who have been in all day, not realising the time until the evening sun turns the room a mixture of oranges and red. It’s my favourite time of day, the sunsetting means I can finally hang my apron up, leaving Frances to close up. Before I go I make sure to brew three coffees and a frappe knowing I’ll get those sad puppy dog eyes from Joel and Sarah if I don’t come back with their usual coffees. Upon moving to Austin I never expected I’d find a family let alone a boyfriend but three years later here I am. The tray of coffees in my hand and my soft goodbyes called to Frances breaking the comforting quiet of the cafe then the cold evening breeze wrapping her hands around me.

There he is, sitting in the front seat of Joel’s truck, cigarette hanging from those kissable lips, curving up into a loving smile when he sees me. The click of the car doors unlocking has me rushing over, wanting to get into the warmth and head home to have dinner with my three favourite people.

“Hey there baby girl.” Tommy coos as I pull the passenger door shut behind me, securing the coffees in the cup holders before leaning over the console to steal a kiss from him, his lips tasting of strawberries and cigarettes. It’s so addictive, everything about Tommy is addictive and I just want to climb over and settle on his lap but we can’t. We’re outside my work and Tommy’s brother and niece are waiting for us to have our dinner, Joel probably trying to cook it which will end up with Sarah taking over. I don’t know how the brothers survived before I arrived in Austin as neither of them can cook anything without almost setting the kitchen on fire. It’s amusing and I guess adds character to them both, watching the way they panic and flail around trying to act smooth which I don’t think is a word either brother have heard of when it comes to cooking.

A hand lays on my thigh, higher than it should be and Tommy’s bottom lip is between his teeth as he joins the road from the carpark. His sun kissed skin glowing in the evening light, illuminating his freckles and I want to run my tongue over every single one. His hand is inching further up, slipping under my skirt until his pinky finger ghosts over my now aching core, my legs spreading further apart instinctively. I could never say no to Tommy, the way he treats me like I’m the only person in the world, taking his time to explore and work out every dip and bump in my skin over the last year.

We’re not that far away from home and Joel and Sarah will be waiting in the living room so we wouldn’t be able to sneak upstair anyway so he’s just teasing me. Teasing himself too from the way his jeans look exceptionally tight and well… two people can play this game, “Tommy,” I warn and he glances at me, cognac eyes so dark they’re almost black and his lips part with a soft moan when I place my hand over his ever-growing bulge, “Is this why you wanted to pick me up today, hmmm?” I breathe against the taught skin of his neck before biting down, not enough to break the skin but enough that the car jerks a little.

“Fuck baby girl,” He grips my thigh tighter, “We haven’t had much time alone together with me working late and you working early.”

“I know,” I sooth the bite mark, before moving back to my seat, leaving him wanting more. A scowl appears on his face as his hand tightens on the steering wheel, his hand on my thigh moving to cup my soaked panties. Two thick fingers plunge inside without a warning, my hands flailing to find something to ground myself to, one wrapping around his wrist that is pumping those two fingers in and out of me and the other digging my nails into the fabric of the seat below me, “T-tommy… we can’t. O-oh fuck.” My head drops when he curls those fingers and my backs arching, tightening around him as he smirks, attention on the road as we pull onto our road. The heel of his palm presses against my clit and I’m jolting in my seat, a pitiful whine leaving my lips as he reverses into the driveway.

“Backseat. Now.” Tommy’s growling out, turning the engine off and I just stare at him wide eyed until he’s pulling his fingers out of me, leaving me empty and wanting. He doesn’t have to say it twice, I’m scrambling into the backseat, minding the coffee and waiting for Tommy to join me. As soon as he’s settled in the back with me I’m being yanked onto his lap, his fingers resuming their brutal pace, rubbing against that sweet spot that has me whimpering. His other hand tangles in my hair, voice low when he says, “Eyes on me baby girl, I want to see you when you cum for me.”

It takes everything in me to force my eyes open, meeting the endless pools of deep cognac staring back as his thumb rubs rough circles over my almost overstimulated clit. A gasp tearing from my lips as the waves of pleasure crash through me, my walls clamping around his fingers and he’s whispering sweet praises as I ride out my high until I’m slumping forwards, my head on his shoulder. The hand gripping my hair now moving to card through it as he murmurs against my neck, “One more baby girl, I need one more from you.”

I just nod, hands moving between us to fumble with his belt and popping the buttons on his jeans. We both feel the urgency, this needing to be quick as there’s no way the pair inside the house didn’t hear the car pull in. It means Tommy barely gives me time to adjust to his girthy length before he’s gripping my hips and raising me up to slide me back down, finding a brutal pace that has me gasping as the tip grazes my cervix with every thrust. It’s quick, it’s hot and it’s heavy. Kisses are harsh and biting, the windows of the car fogging up as my hands tangle in his hand and I’m pulling as that coil in my stomach begins building again, causing my walls to close around him.

He panting my name, teeth marking any bare skin he can get his lips on as his dick begins twitching with every downwards drag. Neither of us are going to last much longer, especially when his thumb moves back to my sore clit and he’s pressing on it, not even rubbing but it’s too much. My nails digging half moons into his shoulder while my other hand in his hair tightens almost painfully but he seems to get turned on by it with the way his hips stutter and he’s pulling me down once more. The guttural moan that leaves his lips in the form of my name is making me almost cry with pleasure, the feeling of him filling me up making my legs shake with effort.

We stay like that for a little longer, his face buried in the crook of my neck, my forehead against the back of the seats and both of us trying to catch our breaths, just revelling in the feeling of my overstimulated walls still fluttering around him. Tommy is very much into the after sex bliss, wanting to stay inside for as long as he can, sometime we’ll fall asleep like that but right now we can’t. His hands tightening on my hips when I try to move has me whining as we’ve been out here for a suspiciously long time and his dick is twitching against my g-spot, sending waves of too much pleasure up my spine. I finally pry my eyes open, legs still shaking and am met by the front door opening, Tommy still grinding my hips against his a little in overstimulation. Joel appears, eyes narrowing with suspicion when he catches the fogged up windows and I’m panicking.

“Joel! Joel! Joel!” I’m tapping Tommy’s shoulder as Tommy’s older brother walks towards the truck… his truck. Tommy helps me off, quickly tucking himself back into his jeans and doing the zipper up while I flatten my skirt just as the door to the backseat gets open.

“In my car?!” Joel crosses his arms like a father telling his children off and I just duck my head, straightening a crease in my shirt. Tommy just flashes his older brother an innocent smile, grabbing my hand and pulling me out the car after him. Joel shuts the door and locks his car before following us inside.

I kiss Tommy’s cheek and tell him I’m going to take a shower. Tommy’s eyes darken hungrily at this but I smack his chest lightly, not wanting to get into even more trouble with Joel, “Go help Joel set the table for dinner.”

“Yes ma’am.” He grins, grabbing my wrist when I head for the stairs, eyes soft when I look back, “I love you baby girl.”

“I love you too cowboy.”

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

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64yrsold · 1 year

Text

give yourself a try!!

“C’mon, darling, it’ll be worth it,” I ushered him into the crowded venue, the band already filling the room with distorted noise.

“This is… Baby, is there enough room for us?” he scratched the back of his head anxiously, reaching for my hand out of habit.

“Sure there is,” I gave him a grin and a squeeze, and his eyebrows unknotted, “Humour me. I used to come here with my friends back in uni, remember?”

“Alright,” he gave in, letting me pull him to the bar.

I waved to the bartender, “Two ciders, please.”

“A cider?” he questioned in my ear, trying to speak above the band.

“It’s local,” I shrugged, “Nostalgic.” He didn’t seem convinced. He eyed up the stage, a glow in his eyes I was familiar with. I paid for the drinks while he was distracted, trying not to wince at the gouge to my bank account.

“This kid on the drums,” he popped his chin toward the drummer, who was madly flailing with perfect rhythm, “Fucking fantastic.”

“Maybe you can ask for some tips after the show,” I smirked, passing him the glass of amber gold.

“I actually would,” he looked at me seriously, taking a long sip. He hummed, looking at the glass closely, “This is nice.”

“Come on, I want to get closer,” I wrapped my hand around his wrist, holding my drink away from incoming elbows and shoulders.

“We’re alright here, aren’t we?” he squeaked behind me, but let me pull him a bit farther.

“Look, now you can actually see the band,” I grinned, settling into an empty corner.

“Well, I could see them back there,” he muttered, “Tall enough.” He let another long sip of cider slide down his throat. I tried to keep pace with him, finishing the glass once the first song had ended.

“Oh my God,” I shrieked, turning to him with wide eyes. He mirrored my expression, smiling softly at my excitement. “This song could bring me back to life.”

He quirked an eyebrow, “You’ve never said that about my songs.”

“Sure I have,” I frowned, and gave him a quick kiss as a distraction. He tasted sweet, like apples and mint. He wrapped an arm around my waist, letting me rest my hot cheek on his leather shoulder. He held me steady as I swayed and nodded to the music, squeezing my hip and laughing when I got a bit too excited. He moved to stand behind me as someone pushed past us, throwing his arms over my shoulders to press my back to his chest.

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispered in my ear, kissing my jaw.

“What?” I said, ears overwhelmed with the droning bass and splintering snare. I looked back to find him grinning.

“You’re fucking gorgeous!” he shouted, picking me up off of the ground momentarily. This sent me into a fit of giggles, throwing my head back against him as he buried kisses in my neck. “One more drink, darling?”

“I can’t say no,” I smiled, letting him guide me through the mass of drunken strangers this time.

“Two more ciders, if you can,” he called to the bartender, pulling out his credit card. His mouth popped open with realization, and he looked at me sternly, “Did you pay last time?” I only shrugged. He sighed, turning to the bartender again, “Get us two shots of vodka as well.”

“It’s nice to treat you sometimes,” I leaned against the bar, looking up at him. He was contrast personified, the slick leather jacket hanging off his sweet, sugar skin. His soft, loose curls tumbling forward over his furrowed brow, hiding dark eyes and emphasizing his pretty pink mouth.

“Ah, sweetheart, you don’t understand,” he pressed a thumb into my red cheek, “You treat me just by keeping me company. Alright?”

“Alright,” I rolled my eyes, letting him pinch my chin. He handed me a shot and a cider, thanking the bartender, then giving him a serious look, “Don’t let this one pay for anything, yeah?”

The bartender shrugged, turning away.

“Cheers, baby,” I grinned, clinking our shot glasses together and downing the vodka. I winced, then laughed at his sour expression.

“Really doesn’t taste better as you get older,” he grimaced, then looped an arm around me to move us away from the bar. He leaned against a wall, pulling me against his chest. We listened quietly, sipping cider as another song passed by. He kissed the top of my head absently, humming harmonies and drumming his fingers into the middle of my back. I finished my glass as he finished his, setting them on a sticky table. The next song was gentle, a soothing melody which had me sighing against him.

“Could I have this dance, miss?” he mumbled into my ear, dropping a hand to grasp mine.

“I’d be honoured,” I curtsied, making him release a heavy laugh. He turned me into a spin, mouth open and grinning as he looked down our outstretched arms to meet my eyes. He pulled me in, catching me with a hand at my hip, pressing his hips to mine. He pulled my hand to his mouth, kissing my knuckles before laying my hand on his chest.

“I can hear your heart from here,” he smirked, tongue pushing into his cheek. “You don’t hide it very well.” He trailed his fingertips along my collarbone, placing his palm flush to the left side of my chest.

“Yours is practically beating out of your chest,” I teased, tapping my finger against his heaving chest, “You tired, old man?”

“Careful,” he licked his bottom lip, eyes jumping between my mouth and needy eyes.

“Poor thing,” I pouted, “All out of stamina. Just from a little dancing.”

His laughed dryly, “Sure.” He took my hand again, guiding me into another slow spin. I giggled, throwing my arm over his head to spin him once. He grinned as he turned, eager to meet my eyes again. He caught my other hand, pushing us apart, then pulling us together. He lowered his hands around my waist, and I pressed my head to his chest. We swung slowly to the rhythm, the room feeling emptier with each sway.

I peeked up at him, “You’re so pretty.”

“Aw, darling,” he nearly blushed, kissing my forehead, “You’re glowing.”

“I think I’m a little drunk,” I laughed, head tilted back to wait for a kiss.

“I’ve told you to stop trying to keep up with me,” he shook his head, tongue peeking out from between his teeth, “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll take care of you.”

“You gonna take me home?” I asked as he dipped to meet my lips. He kissed me, his mouth feeling like a promise.

“If you’d like.”

“I’d like,” I smiled as the song ended with a flourish. He gave the band an encouraging shout, his hands too busy to clap.

“Let’s get out of here,” he brushed a thumb over my cheek, eyes heavy as he pressed a kissed to my mouth, “Fast as we can."

#matty healy #the 1975 #the 1975 fanfic #matty healy fanfiction #matty the 1975 #matty x reader #matty healy x reader #64matty #Spotify

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rosecoloreddesire · 1 year

Text

The Hold You Have Upon Me

Summary: Your best friend Olivia gets you in on her big role in a new movie and you gladly accept the offer. Little did you know the job had a lot more to offer than it lead on.

Note: I’m so sorry for being so inactive! Please forgive me y’all! Should this be my first Austin series??? But the new pics from behind the scenes??? LORD HAVE MERCY!

Part 2

Warning: FLUFF! Also I only read through this twice so I’m sorry for any errors!!

“Y/N, c’mon! You’re doing great! I’m so proud of you for being here for me.” Olivia wraps her arms around you in a warm embrace.

“You know I wouldn’t have denied being an extra in an Elvis movie,” Olivia rolls her eyes as her makeup finishes,” and wouldn’t have denied seeing my best friend have the role of her life!” She smiles as the finishing touches are applied and twirls around.

“Time to line up, girly!” She takes your hand and leads you to set. The booming echo of the band thumps within your body as you watch Baz record them up close. Olivia tugs on your arm and points at the corner of the set. There he was.

“Holy shit, Liv. He’s Adonis…” you hadn’t had the time to see Austin as Elvis yet. The sight of his tanned skin adorned in black leather pulling the air from your lungs. She laughs and pats your back as a set manager pulls her away from you. You can’t keep your eyes off of him as workers surround him to make sure he looks perfect. That shouldn’t be too hard you think. His cobalt eyes are stoic as he finally catches you staring. His smirk eliciting a squeak from your lips as you go to find the same set manager that stole Olivia away from you.

“Got enough of gawking Mr. Butler in for one day?” Mia asks as you walk up next her. You sigh and rub your hands on your face.

“He saw me and probably thinks I’m a freak.” She cackles as she’s reads the list in front of her. She pulls you along with her.

“Well, this freak is front of stage. Have fun, love.” You whip your head to glare at Mia.

“‘Mia?! Are you kidding me? This is insane! Please, put me closer to the back or something.” Mia shrugged her shoulders and looked through the papers on her clipboard. You try to look over her to no avail.

“They dressed you up just like the girl in the original ‘68 comeback that sits right there! Soooo, no can do, love!” She waves at you as you sit down. He’s going to be dancing right in front of you. You place a hand on the stage and drag your fingers on it softly. This is insane.

“Good luck, Y/N. You got this!” Olivia looks beautiful as she shakes your shoulders.

“Knock ‘em dead, Priscilla.” She smiles and gives you a quick kiss on the cheek. You smooth your skirt down as other extras begin to fill in next to you. Your heart begins to beat out of your chest as Baz calls for action.

“And here he is, Mister Elvis Presley!” The applause sign lights up as you begin to clap. Ignoring the total arousal that seeps through you as you see him begin to bend to grasp his guitar. He sits down and begins to sing and your heart all but melts. You could see he put everything into becoming Elvis and he looked just like him. You could feel tears well in your eyes as you remembered watching Elvis with your grandma when you were younger. Never understanding why she’d get so emotional. Now here you were seeing double. You smile as the song comes to an end and wipe your eyes. Baz calling cut so that he could move things around for a better shot. He smiles at you as he makes his way to Austin. You nod and turn to where Olivia is sitting. She shapes a heart with her hands and you return it as you take a deep breath.

“Quick touch up break!” Makeup artists swarm in as cast members make their ways to chairs. Some stay seated and some grab something to snack on. You watch as Austin sits down panting as staff use towels to lightly dab onto his face. He smiles and his lips curl as he listens to Baz and his flailing hands.

“Hey, why don’t you just try talking to him?” Mia startled you, your hand shooting to your chest. She grabs onto your shoulder as you grasp your surroundings again.

“M-Mia, I’m one of how many extras trying to get to know him? Give me a break! Not gonna happen-“ you choke on your last words as you make eye contact with the aforementioned man. His gaze could pierce stone as you squirm in your seat. He nods to the artist powdering his face and he rises from his chair.

“Welp, I gotta go! Have fun, darling!”

“Hey, you’re Olivia’s friend right,” you nod as your throat dries,” I’ve seen you on her Insta page. You’re uh, you look gorgeous.” Your eyes widen as does his.

“Thank y-“

“ I’m sorry if that was weird, darlin’.” His voice lowering as he rubs the back of his neck. You laugh, shaking your head.

“No,” your voice squeaking, you clear your throat,” no! Um, I think you’re gorgeous too.”

“It’s just the get up, I feel.”

“I mean the get up is a plus-“

“A plus? You really like it that much, doll?” He stepped a little closer to you. You move back a little scared he’ll hear the pounding of your heart. You place a hand on your chest as your cheeks flush.

“Austin,” his hand slips around your waist as his other hand rests tenderly against your cheek. His fingers softly move against the soft skin,” I-I do.” You splutter out meekly.

“Good. ‘Cause I’m really liking the get up you got goin’ on to.” Before you can say your weak attempt at a joke his soft lips are upon yours. His grip slowly tightens as you sigh into the kiss. You rest your hands on his chest as you feel your legs begin to weaken. His entire being yearns to be as close to as possible. He pulls away and uses the hand still on your cheek to move your face to the side. His lips finding solace betwixt your jaw and neck. You begin to giggle as he hums against your skin.

“A-Aus, what are you doing? You’re gonna have to go on soon.” He continues to hum into your skin. Not leaving any marks but leaving a slight tingle in his tracks.

“They can wait, darlin’. I just can’t get enough of you.” His phone buzzes in his pocket as he finishes his rasping speech.

“I don’t think they want to.” You wink as he pulls away from you with a pout. You stand to your tippy toes and lay a chaste kiss to his nose. His skin flushing pink within seconds.

“I’ll find you after, Y/N.” He holds your hand until ultimately he has to let it go. You sigh heavily and lean against the wall as you collect your thoughts.

“That was….adorable!!!” Olivia squeals and wraps her arms around your shoulders. You yelp and she covers your mouth.

“How could you?! Did you see all of that?!” You take her hand off your mouth.

“Hey! I was tasked to come find Elvis and found Elvis I did!” She wiggles her eyebrows as you groan. You both make your way back to set. Your seat open in the front of the stage as he winks at you from it. You take Olivia’s arm.

“I’m not sitting back up there. I just kissed him and I gotta act like that didn’t happen?” You groan once more as Olivia shrugs.

“Hey, at least it’ll help with the fan girl in love look.” She smiles as she leads you back to your seat.

“Liv, I feel like I’m gonna hurl.”

#austin butler #austin butler fic #austin butler drabble #austin butler x reader #austin butler elvis #elvis 2022 #rosecoloreddesire #elvis movie #elvis film

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bordysbae · 1 year

Note

Being really clingy before bords has to leave for a roadie and not wanting to leave him 😔

“you can’t leave me here alone!”

thomas bordeleau x fem!reader

word count: 0.6k

you’re currently laying in your very warm and cozy bed, using your boyfriends toned body as a pillow. he begins to stir awake and rubs his eyes before looking down at you, only to see you looking up at him. a smile grows across his cheeks and he leans down to kiss the top of your head. “good morning” he raspily speaks.

“mornin’ sunshine” you smile, forgetting about the dreading moments soon to come in the next hour. you both just stare at each other for a moment, taking in the sweet feelings of love that you both share with each other. literally anyone can see just how much you both love each other, which is why you get so upset when he goes on a roadie. thomas is the sunshine in your life, he’s your world. so when he speaks up the next words you forgot about, your heart instantly breaks. “babe i need to get up and finish packing my bag and shower before i go” he groans, reaching for his phone off of the nightstand.

the roadie.

thomas is going on an roadie playing the canucks twice, back to back, over the next few days. you instantly sigh and wrap your arms around him as an attempt to prevent him from moving. “no! you’re not leaving!” you groan, making him chuckle. “babe i have to, the team leaves in 2 hours i need to start getting ready” “no you don’t, you can just stay with me” “as much as i’d much prefer that, i can’t do that love. this is my job” he smiles pitifully at you, knowing he doesn’t want to leave you either.

you hold your grip onto him, acting as if he couldn’t easily move you off of him. he doesn’t try to wiggle out of your grip, instead he manages to get up easily and throws you over his shoulder as he gets off of the bed. “excuse me! where are we going?” you flail around in his arms. “i’m going to shower, you can do whatever you please.” he places you back on the ground as he starts to run the shower.

you roll your eyes since you know he can’t see your face. once he finishes his shower you help him finish packing his bag, trying not to cry. you know it’s dumb to cry over this, but you can’t help it when he’s your absolute everything. “alright, i think that’s everything” he says zipping the zipper of the black bag. you silently walk away from him, and go into the living room. you slide on one of thomas’ oversized (oversized on you, not him) hoodies, as he walks in with his bags. you stare at him softly before you feel tears pool at the brim of your eyes.

thomas instantly notices and drops his bags, pulling you into a tight hug. “i’m sorry princess, i’ll be home before you know it. i’ll call you every night, i’ll text you all the time too. it’s only three days, and you’ll see me on the tv yeah?” he whispers in your ear. “you can’t leave me here alone!” you cry out.

he chuckles softly before kissing the tip of your nose. “i’m sorry love, i promise i’ll be home soon.” “you better” “i better? what did you think i was gonna runaway in canada?” he laughs. “what if you don’t actually have a roadie and you’re just running away” “you’re crazy, you know that?” you roll your eyes, hitting his chest playfully, “yeah but you love it” “i do?” he jokes, making you scoff.

“okay goodbye get out, go!” you say pushing him towards the door. “i love you, i’ll call you when i land okay?” “i love you more, and just remember i’m watching for you on tv so if i don’t see you playing i’m gonna assume you ran away!” “you’re so weird” he laughs as leans down to pull you into a deep kiss.

#thomas bordeleau #thomas bordeleau x reader #thomas bordeleau imagine #thomas bordeleau blurb #hockey blurb #hockey imagine #sj barracuda #sj sharks

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spctrsgf · 1 year

Note

Hi. If you're taking requests, could you write like cooking/baking with Steven Grant, like it started as a fun activity but it quickly turned into a competition. Like flour everywhere, playfully sabotaging eachother (not too much ofc). (Gn reader)

flour and powdered sugar

word count: 1.5k

warnings: language

a/n: anon!!!!! thank you for this, you singlehandedly got me off my ass and back to writing! i hope this is what you were envisioning :) also this gif doesnt match the story but its the same energy ykyk

“Love,” Steven calls as he flutters into the room, a mess of flailing hands. “Love, love, love, love-“

“Yeah?”

“We— we should—“ his words tumble so fast out of his mouth they’re barely words at all.

“Hey,” you grab his hands and attempt to center him. “Calm down, I can’t understand a word you’re saying.”

“Can we- can we pleaseeeeeeeee bake something?”

“Like what?”

“Well, what do we have in the pantry?” He pulls out of your grip and over to the kitchen, and you collapse again onto the sofa.

“I dunno; it’s your apartment.”

He grunts distractedly, sticking his head into every cabinet.

By the time he speaks up again, you were halfway into a stupor. “So,” he grins down at you from his position above your head. “Let’s bake a cake!” You raise your eyebrows. “A cake? What type?”

“Well, we have the ingredients for a vanilla, lemon, or chocolate cake.”

You sit up suddenly and meet his gaze with light shining in your eyes. “Lemon.”

He nods. “Lemon.”

You squeal with excitement, nearly knocking over Steven in your quick ascent and scramble for the cookbook. Soon enough, the two of you had collected all of the ingredients, each placed in a neat semicircle around the cookbook.

“Preheat the oven, will you?” You turn expectantly to your counterpart, who did as he was told with a roll of his eyes. “Let’s get going!!” Steven said, trying to contain his excitement to a dull hum with little success.

You smile. “Okay, but first—“

“Separate the supplies for more efficiency?”

“You know it.” It only slightly surprises you that he knew you so well.

“Alright, so you do the dry ingredients.” He tries to move the dry ingredients towards you, but your hand wrapping around his wrist stops the movement short.

“I was thinking we separate doing everything.”

He frowns playfully. “What, don't like baking with me?”

“Of course I don't,” you drawl playfully, going along with the act. “You’re the worst person to bake with.”

He slaps his hand to his chest, matching your energy. “How could you say such a thing!”

“It’s true.” You shoot your hand up in front of his face, turning your face away from him.

He grabs your hand and then your chin, making you meet his gaze and big smile. “Don’t do this to me, love! I just can’t go on without you!”

You knock his hand off of your chin with slightly dusted cheeks. “Alright, alright, enough.”

He chuckles. “Back to baking— you really want to split up entirely?”

“Yeah.” you grin at him mischievously.

“Oh no. Do I want to know why?”

“Probably.”

He grimaces. “Why?”

“It’ll be a competition.”

“What-“

“You’ll probably win.” You shrug.

He narrows his eyes at you. “Bullshit, we both know you’ll win.”

“That’s true, but you’ll do it anyway.”

“Yeah, I will.” He sighs.

“I call the mixer first!” You lunge towards the drawer where the said item resides.

“Wha— no!” Steven shoved your hands away, using his proximity to the drawer to his advantage.

“Not fair!” You shout at his triumphant face. “I called it!”

“Finders keepers,” He laughs. “Good luck with the whisk!”

“You fucker.”

“Love you too!”

The room faded into silence as you both got to work on either side of the countertop, the only noise being the whir! of the electric mixer and your huffs of effort.

As soon as you finish mixing up the butter and sugar, you pull out an empty bowl, ready to mix up the dry ingredients. Seeing that Steven was close to grabbing the flour, you crowd the bag in towards yourself. He groans in frustration, and you make sure to take your sweet time with measuring.

The crease between his brows and the deep set frown on his face is almost enough for you to take pity on him, but the adrenaline had pulled you too far to turn back now. As soon as the last speck of flour hits your bowl, Steven is leaning over the counter to grab the flour.

“Hah!” He exclaims, sticking his tongue out at you. “Hey! Rude!” You bite back a smile. He’s so caught up in the victory of getting the flour that he doesn't see the bit of flour left in your measuring cup.

You consider in the moment to not follow through with your plan, seeing as it would end up with the kitchen full of a mess that you two would have to clean up. The prospect wasn’t nearly as enticing as seeing Steven’s shocked face, so the smile on your face grows exponentially larger.

As soon as Steven’s head tilts down, you grab a bit of the flour and prepare yourself to attack. When his head starts to tilt upwards, you launch the flour across the countertop and to its destination. The laugh you let out sounds like it came from a six year old, but you couldn’t care less.

Steven’s face twists into surprise just as you had expected, and his face is dusted lightly in the white powder of the flour. He spits the flour out of his mouth in disgust, glaring at you. One hand comes up to ruffle the flour out of his curls while the other hand goes into— the flour?

The next thing you know, there’s a poof of white dust and flour has been thrown into your face, some even in your mouth which had been open while you’d been laughing. Your gasp of surprise sends the Brit next to you into ear splitting laughter, and you watch bitterly as he grabs the countertop for support.

“You dick!” You yell at him. “I didn’t even throw that much at you!”

“You—“ he juts out between breaths. “You totally deserved that!”

“I did? Really? Well how do you like this!” You toss a glob of flour at him, only half of it meeting Stevens face.

“Oh really?” He throws more flour back at you.

By the time you’re done throwing flour, the floor sports a light sheen of flour for a six foot radius and half the bag is empty. “Damn.” you huff.

“That was a new bag of flour.” Steven pouts.

“I’m glad we’re at your place and not mine.” You shrug, going back to adding your dry ingredients.

“Hah! At your place you wouldn’t even have a bag of bloody flour.”

You throw a puff of powdered sugar at him. “Rude!”

“You know I’m right.” He quips, tossing a dash of sugar back at you.

“The only reason I’m not throwing more sugar at you is because I don’t want to clean up more stuff from the flour, not because I’m backing down.”

“Mhm, tell yourself that.”

If looks could kill, Steven would be absolutely obliterated under the weight of your glare. Your teeth grit together and your nails dig into the skin of your palms in concealed anger, but you still don’t retaliate, instead opting to go back to pouring in your ingredients. Steven too falls back into making his own cake, you both laughing and teasing each other along the way.

Soon (and that’s putting it lightly), the cakes had been placed into the oven and Steven had collapsed onto the couch. You, on the other hand, are busy in the kitchen, cleaning up a bit of the mess. “Funny how this is your kitchen yet I’m the one who’s cleaning it.” You complain, rolling on to your tippy toes to place the sugar away. “Funny how I didn’t ask you to do that.” His retort is lightning quick.

“Oh, I’m sorry for wanting your place to be clean so you can’t blame me for it being messy.”

“You should be, my gods.”

You roll your eyes, dropping the half empty bag of flour onto the table. “Fine, I’m stopping, but you can’t say I didn’t try later!”

“Actually–”

“Shut it.” You interrupt him, rounding the counter and heading towards him.

“Of course, love, at your service.” He mocks.

Your only response is to plop yourself next to him on the couch, tossing your legs on top of his and settling into the couch with a contented sigh. “Hey!” He protests. “Get your stinky feet off of me! They smell bloody awful!” You snort. “You’re not actually mad at me.”

“You threw flour in my face!”

“Mhm.” You snuggle further into the couch.

“Twice!”

“That’s true.”

“And then you threw powdered sugar in my face!”

“Steven, you keep stating facts like I don’t know them already.”

“It’s all in my hair.” You could hear his pout.

“And?”

He deflates. “Yeah, you’re right.”

You shoot up onto your hands, staring up at him with mockingly wide eyes. “What was that? I couldn’t quite hear you.”

“You heard me.”

“No, I didn’t, could you please repeat it?”

He shoved your shoulder. “Fuck off.”

“Oh no, I can’t do that. How else are you going to have some fun in your ever so boring life?”

His arm shoots out and his fingers push into the junction of your elbow, sending you crashing backwards onto the sofa. “I hate you.”

You laugh at him from your debunked position. “No you don’t.”

He sighed with a grin. “No, I really don’t.”

#steven loves to bake prove me wrong #moon knight #steven grant #jake lockley #marc spector #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #marc spector x reader #marvel #moon knight tv #steven grant x you #steven grant fanfiction #steven grant imagine #steven grant fluff #moon boys #moon knight imagine

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rush-the-stars · 1 year

Text

having insane thoughts about kaeya again i actually want to ruin his life sorry sorry sorry i want to beat him up. i hate him. (no i don’t). i blacked out and finished writing this.

pairing: kaeya x f!reader

cw: toxic dynamic. unhealthy relationship. arguing. slapping (reader to kaeya), fighting, biting, blood, hair pulling, wrestling, smut. no prep, rough sex. no protection. kaeya is a bit of a masochist. public sex? quickie. poor diluc :// sorry diluc :// i promise ill make it up to you and write a fic where kaeya almost catches you fucking the reader </3

***

kaeya ducks as the glass you threw at him sails over his head and shatters against the back wall.

diluc is going to kill him if you don't first.

he has to bite back the wild grin threatening to tear across his face as he pokes his head back up. you look furious, glare marring your pretty features, eyes aflame.

god, you look good.

"you son of a bitch–" you curse him and there's plenty of tables and chairs between the two of you so he feels relatively safe in his place across the room from you. because of the distance, you opt for another glass and lob it at him. again, he ducks, let's the glass shatter above his head and rain down in a flare of sparkling light that catches gold in the tavern.

"what the hell is going on up there?" he hears diluc call.

"i'm going to kill kaeya!" you holler back and this time, you clamber over the tables between you two to get to him.

he yelps in surprise, clambering up, but you lunge for him before he can get far. you both go tumbling backwards onto the wood floor, sparks of glass digging into his back and his arms as he wrestles with you. he gets out from under you briefly, until you knee him in the stomach.

a startled laugh barks out of him, a little broken, weak, as you tackle him again. get on top of him.

the slap that cracks across his cheek is enough to make him taste blood. you are a knight, after all, your hits pack heat.

a grin creeps across his face as he touches lightly at his lip, your hips coming down over his to sit on him, pin him down but–

you squeak in surprise now. face going furiously hot.

“are you seriously—?!” you hiss.

his hips flex a little and he presses up against the heat between your own legs.

“you’re sick!” you snarl, voice low and hot and kaeya can’t help the laugh he lets out again, dark and soft.

“c’mon,” he hums, “let’s rough house a little more.”

in one swift move, he shoves you off him and gets you under, flat on your back, legs hitched around his waist. you snap and twist and buck like a wild thing and he grits his teeth through his excited smile, wrestling with you.

it’s artless, it’s just bodies and brute force, shoving himself harder against you. deeper into you.

your struggles must be heard from below. you’re tucked away into a dark corner on the second level. diluc cannot see the two of you from this vantage point. still, he no doubt can hear.

“take your fighting out of my tavern!” diluc shouts.

“one second!” kaeya calls back, laughing again, when he manages to get one of your wrists pinned, “just need to show this little brat whose in charge.”

with renewed vigor, you thrash and turn. growling and grunting.

you kick now, flailing. and then your free hand swats at his face again, connects with another smack, but this time with a little less grace.

it gives you enough wiggle room, though, at least for a moment to get your bearings and turn him over onto his back again. his shoulder knocks into the leg of a table, which screeches and clatters on the wooden floor.

“bastard!” you curse at him, “stupid, lying—“

“i didn’t lie!” he protests, voice going high, amused and clearly enjoying this. especially as he presses his hips up again between your legs just to watch you tumble forward a bit and lose your balance.

your hand flattens against his chest to catch yourself and the angle opens you up to him more. he bites back a groan.

your face is hot, he can tell, hair a mess—wild thing that you are, your chest spills out of your top, onto his own chest. and you’re so warm, so soft on top of him, squirming with embarrassment and anger.

archons, you look good angry.

“fucking—dammit—kaeya—“ you bite out when he suddenly captures your waist in broad hands and drags your hips in a slow roll.

your fingers tighten in his shirt and he feels the faint bite of nails.

“kaeya!” diluc barks from below.

“hit me again,” he whispers.

“what?” you’re breathless.

“hit me again,” he says with a grin.

you hesitate, especially now that he’s got you distracted, that he’s got you in his lap like this. if you were in a private place, he’d already have you laid out, but there’s something thrilling about—

your hand cracks across his face again. this one stings so good that he does groan.

hopefully it sounds pained enough.

before he can even bring his head back from where it’d snapped to the side, you’re seizing his face with your hand and leaning down to kiss him.

this time he has to fight a dark, lewd groan. his eyes roll behind his shut lids, fluttering a little against your cheek.

to keep up the facade, kaeya reaches blindly for the legs of the table. when he finds it, he jostles it, rattles it to sound like there’s more commotion.

you’re grinding down hard onto him now, all on your own. good girl that you are, desperate thing that you are, he loves when you get like this.

you must taste his blood in your mouth when you suck on his bottom lip.

he pulls away, taking in your face, your eyes that are glazed with a simmering sort of lust.

he rolls you onto your back again and thank archons you don’t go easy. you don’t take anything lying down, he knows that, he thinks fondly.

you struggle with him again and in all your kicking, a chair topples over and clatters.

“whatever you two break up there, you’re paying for!” diluc hollers again.

but kaeya is too busy wrenching your pants down, panties coming all in one go and you gasp in shock, eyes going wide and terrified. it’s only enough to get you bare for him, caught around your thighs which are pressed tight and stuck together, so he throws both over one side of his hips.

“bill it to the knights of favonious!” kaeya calls back and there’s a wild edge to his voice, a glint in his eyes that only you can pull out of him.

he unbuckles his own pants just enough, frees himself, aching and so hard it hurts and hot. he grits his teeth when he fists himself, just to press the head up against your slick folds.

your nails bite into his chest.

“kaeya—“ you warn.

with his free hand he covers your mouth.

“bite my hand,” he whispers and before you can react at all, he pushes inside you with a rough flex of his hips and watches your face transform. your eyes nearly cross before they flutter shut, teeth sinking hard down into his palm.

the noise you make behind his palm is thankfully one that could be mistaken for pain. he grips your face hard. grips your waist so hard it’ll bruise. he pants, harsh, trying to get ahold of himself so he doesn’t rut into you like an animal.

although—

“shit—“ he curses, feeling your walls pathetically flutter around him, try to take him.

“i’d say i’m sorry, but i think you deserve this a little,” kaeya husks, leaning heavier into you as he snaps his hips against yours. he can feel how wet you are. how hot.

oh, he’s going to lose it, he knows—

“are you two done fighting?” diluc snaps, “are you going to clean up my tavern? customers will be here soon!”

kaeya reaches out blindly again to shove the table hard enough that it wobbles again, but this time, the glass that had been atop of it clatters uncertainly, before careening to the ground.

it shatters and you gasp in shock as the glass sparks against the two of you.

kaeya laughs wildly, fucking into you a little harder, rutting down, hardly leaving the hot clutch of your cunt.

“archons! are you two serious?!”

you pry his hand off your mouth finally and he realizes his palm is bloody with your teeth marks. your mouth is smeared with it.

“i fucking—“ you get out, —hate you.”

but your eyes are fluttering against your cheeks again and kaeya leans down to catch you in another brutal kiss, lodging himself deep inside you, hardly pulling out with deep, hard thrusts.

your hand tangles in his hair before sinking into a fist, curling hard to pull at the roots of his hair. he bites your lip, catching it between teeth until you yelp a little, until you pull harder.

your other hand claws at his shoulders, half-mauls him, even through his clothes.

“kaeya—“ your voice pitches a little. he knows that sound well.

“sshh,” he hushes, “ssh.” even as his hips don’t slow, breathing uneven, “are you close?”

he breathes it against your jaw, your throat that he then sinks his teeth into desperately.

you pull at his hair again, nodding dumbly, a whimper eeking out of your throat.

he can feel you—your walls tightening up, oh gods, his head is near spinning. heady. delirious with it. he’s lost to the feeling of it all, the quick burn of pain, the molten spark of pleasure. the risk of it all—

your body locks up, and you keen before kaeya’s hand comes up to cover your mouth again and muffle the sound.

he laughs again, quieter, breathless, in awe, as his hips grind desperately into your pulsing walls. sucking down on him. he’s not going to last, doesn’t think he should anyways because—

“i’m coming up there!” diluc warns, which means he must suspect something. kaeya’s heart pounds wildly.

he pushes deep inside you, shudders hard and this time, it’s your hand tightening across his mouth, other hand fisting his hair tight to hold him in place and keep his own moan, which in private would’ve been so desperate and lewd, down behind his teeth. behind your hand. the pressure in his gut snaps to release, expanding in a hot, shocking blaze throughout his body.

he comes hard, deep inside of you. he pants against your hand, only for a moment, before he hears footsteps at the bottom of the stairs.

both your eyes widen and in a flurry of limbs and movement, you’re both shucking your pants back into the right place and trying to right yourselves. kaeya is still twitching and sensitive with aftershocks—wishes he could’ve stayed deep inside you, wishes—

“i swear, if you two are—“

in a stroke of genius, you launch yourself at him again, sending him careening back into the glass. he mindlessly struggles, just as diluc rounds the stairs and sees the two of you.

still fighting, panting, faces perhaps a little too flushed.

diluc seems almost relieved to see it really had been fighting.

but then he sees the state of his poor tavern; the glass scattered around the floor, the chairs that have toppled over, and the two of you. a mess.

kaeya shoves you off of him.

“we’ll clean it,” he promises smoothly, lifting his hands to show defeat, only for diluc’s eyes to narrow on the bloody ring of teeth marks on his palm.

he glances over at you, with a glare still marring your pretty face. and a large love bite now blooming on your throat.

diluc looks weary, tired. and then he sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“kaeya, pull up your fly. and both of you, get out of my tavern.”

kaeya glances down at his offending pants, only to see that diluc is correct—his fly is still down.

your face is mortified.

but kaeya throws his head back and laughs, hard enough that you sock him in the shoulder, bad enough bruise. and enough that diluc snaps again;

“i said get out!”

he hauls you up now and knows when it’s time to make himself scarce, pushing you down the stairs, where the two of you stumble, and out the door.

the sun simmers bronze as it begins to sink into early evening. the two of you must look like disasters in its brilliant light.

he zips up his fly with a crooked, lovestruck smile.

you shove him hard, cursing at him, and stomping away.

“i can’t stand you! what is your problem?” you snap, just as he catches up to you and wrestles you under his arm. you fight him a little, but he secures his bicep around your neck, pulling you tighter to him.

“i could ask the same of you, brat. you’re the one who started this.”

you stop fighting so fitfully, going slack enough that you just lean into his side as you walk together. beneath his arm.

“my problem is you,” you grouse.

“uh huh,” he agrees, and then asks innocently, “not the mess i left ins—“

you elbow him hard enough in the stomach that he doubles over with it, wind knocked out of him. but he laughs again, even as you storm off—

and he laughs even harder when he picks his head up, light from the sun catching across his face, because he knows where you’re headed. he knows where you’ll be, where you’ll always go, no matter how mad and waspish you pretend to be, no matter how bad your bite or your bark.

and archons, he’d have it no other way but this.

because you’re headed to his place—just as you always are.

#kaeya alberich x reader #kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich x you #kaeya x you #kaeya alberich x y/n #kaeya x y/n #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x y/n #cielo writes!#drabbles!

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