#I need like two weeks to get back in the groove

[badjokesbyjeff]

There were three race horses; ernie, bill, and ted. 

the three of them were good friends; they enjoyed racing each other and generally won and lost to each other equally. every evening, after the races, they went to a local bar to relax and drink some beer. they would often discuss racing techniques, their families, etc.

one season, bill wasn't doing so well. he rarely beat the other two, and was worried that he'd be sent to the glue factory if his luck didn't change. one night, at the bar, he talked with ernie and ted about it.

"you know, guys, i just can't figure it out," he said. "everything's fine at home; the kids are doing great, my wife is being nice, the bills are paid, my mother-in-law rarely visits - nothing could be better. maybe i'm just getting old. if things don't pick up soon, they'll send me to the glue factory."

the bartender, a big llama from peru, overheard the conversation. he looked around, to make sure nobody else was listening, then said, "hey, pal, i got something for you that'll make you feel like a young colt again." he reached under the bar and pulled out an unlabeled bottle of beer. "here, drink this; i guarantee you'll start winning again. come by each night for a week and I'll give you one. if it doesn't work, i'll give you double your money back!"

bill looked at ernie and ted, who only shrugged, then drank the contents of the bottle. "oh, just one thing," the llama said, "it'll make your ass itch, but that's okay; it's just a side effect. don't worry about it." the three horses stayed a few hours, played a few games of pool and darts, and went home.

over the course of the next three days, they went back to the bar each night, and bill continued the regimen of mystery beer. his racing times did improve! he was slowly moving back up in the rankings, and was soon back into the top three with ernie and ted. bill was ecstatic, and thanked the llama profusely.

"hey, my pleasure," said the llama.

a few weeks passed by, and ernie started slowing down. after losing three races in a row, he sobbed to himself, "i just don't get it. my life couldn't be better. i can't believe I'm getting old! they'll send me to the glue factory if i don't get back in the groove!"

that evening, at the bar, he told the llama bartender about his troubles, and asked if he too could try the mystery beer. "okay, but remember, it'll make your ass itch - but don't pay it no mind. it's just a harmless side effect."

"no problem. it'll be worth it to get back in the groove," ernie said.

a few days went by. ernie's ass did indeed itch, but after a few more days, his races improved, and he was back in the top three with bill and ted.

at the bar one evening, ernie bought a round of beers for all the horses, and thanked the llama profusely.

"i just can't believe how great that mystery beer worked!" ernie said. "you're sitting on a gold mine, there!" the llama said it was his pleasure, don't worry about it, etc.

a few more weeks went by, and now ted started slowing down, losing races. he, too realized that he'd be shipped off to the glue factory unless his races improved.

"say," he said to the llama one night after a particularly humiliating loss, "i think i need to try that mystery beer too. they'll ship me off to the glue factory for sure if I don't start winning again."

"no problem," the llama said, pulling out an unlabeled bottle. "here. come back every night, and i guarantee you'll be back in top form again, or i'll give you double your money back."

over the course of the next few weeks, ted's races continued to improve until he was back in the top three with bill and ernie. he pranced into the bar, full of vim and vigor, and thanked the llama profusely. "you know, my ass itches a lot; it's almost unbearable. but i can't thank you enough. they would have turned me into glue by now if it weren't for you. anything you want, let me know and i'll see what i can do."

"no problem," said the llama, "i make this beer at home using an ancient inca recipe. it's just my way of thanking my regular customers for their patronage over the years."

"i'm not kidding," ted said, "this is the greatest thing that's ever happened to me. anything, you name it, anything you want, let me know, and it's yours."

"well, now that you mention it..." the llama began -

right then, a greyhound walked up to the bar. he was obviously depressed.

"barkeep, give me something strong. i'm on a losing streak you wouldn't believe," the greyhound said.

ted looked at the greyhound, then at bill and ernie, and said, "hey, look! a talking dog!"

#funny #jokes #humor #lol #comedy

[nikethestatue]

Chapter XVI

You Are the One

One time, Elain Marie Paige Archeron had everything she ever wanted. She had love. A love that was pure and clean and genuine. A love that did not ask for anything in return. The kind of love that was true, and kind, and forgiving, and protective. She couldn’t remember a time when she laughed as much as she did in the last three months. She recalled waking up every morning for the past three months and feeling lighter, like there was joy and a promise of good things. Now, in hindsight, she realised that it was because she was in love. But also because she was loved. No one’s ever loved her like that before. No one looked at her in the same way, like she was precious. Like she mattered. Like she was someone’s favourite thing in the world.

Only Elain Archeron did not hold on to that love.

She took it for granted.

She took the man who offered her his devotion and his loyalty and his unconditional, undeniable and passionate love for granted, never thinking that she’d ever lose him.

But she did.

She lost Azriel. 

“Remember, darling, that’s nature…simple biology,”

“Daddy, you aren’t going to be talking about how babies are made?” Elain sniffled, half amused, half horrified.

Her father smiled a sad smile and shook his head no.

“You have to remember that it’s the sperm that chases the egg. It’s the man who pursues the woman. Not the other way around. A man will chase and will not give up until he gets that sperm into the egg.”

“Ew, dad!”

“You are a big girl, my pretty rose. You know what I mean.”

Elain considered his words, and as graphic as they were, they also made sense. He was correct. 

“Love was invented to make nature more palatable,” he continued, “but biology never changed. It’s still about the sperm and the egg. Therefore, let him chase you. And if he doesn’t, then you’ll know the answer. But never chase a man, sweetheart. It’s his nature, his responsibility and his destiny to chase after a woman.”

She sighed and looked out the window.

It's been almost two weeks and Azriel hasn’t sought her out. The sperm hasn’t chased the egg. Azriel hasn’t chased her at all.

At first, it was just…silence.

For four days, it was silent. 

Her texts went unanswered. There were no call backs. She even went old school and sent Azriel an email! And that didn’t get a response either. 

She was ready to go all the way to Canary Wharf and be the weird girlfriend who busts into her boyfriend’s home and starts to demand answers. 

But he finally messaged her with a one word text: ‘training’. That’s all it said. No apology and no explanation. Not an ‘I am sorry for ignoring you’ or ‘I’ve been swamped with the team stuff’. No, she didn’t get anything other than ‘training’.

And so, Elain had changed her mind about trekking to Canary Wharf and waited. Training would eventually be over and he would be back. He'd return to her. Elain wanted to be an understanding girlfriend, who was going to support her man. She realised that he needed to get back into the groove of the game after his injury and get his body back in playing shape. Therefore, when Saturday came about and Arsenal was playing Luton Town, she dutifully turned on the telly and listened to the pre-game broadcast while Piglet raced upstairs and then came back with his red jersey, tossing it to her and urging her to dress him in it. He already knew what he needed to wear when Azriel was playing, and even though he made a mess in his cubby, turning it out and tossing all the other things on the floor, Elain thought that it was too cute how he got so excited and was behaving like a proper little fan. 

They watched the game, with Piglet sitting there, enraptured, and howling happily every time Azriel appeared on the screen. How Piglet recognised him, Elain didn’t know–she once hid under a blanket for 10 minutes, and her pug was wandering around in confusion, looking for her, never thinking to pull the blanket off. But here, he somehow was eagle-eyed and was spotting Azriel among the tiny players on the screen.

While Piglet was innocently happy to watch the game, hopping and rolling around, Elain’s mood was more subdued. She did take a photo of the pug and sent it to Azriel. When the game concluded, and Arsenal had won, she messaged him and said ‘Congratulations! Brilliant game’.

Thanks.

That’s what Eain got in response to her message from Azriel.

Thanks.

Angrily, she waited for more, but nothing else came.

Because if he’d responded, she’d confront him and give him a piece of her mind. What did she do to him?? She was a somewhat reluctant girlfriend, but she had the right to be reluctant. He moved like a freight train, but she was more cautious. Besides, she’s lived through many heartbreaks before and every single man that she’s been with has broken up with her. She never broke up with anyone–all the breakups were initiated by the men. And it looked like the pattern was continuing, unbroken. Azriel was also fed up with her and was breaking up.

That night, after the terse ‘thanks’ Elain closed her bedroom door, so Piglet wouldn’t hear her, and wept.

She wept for herself, for her lost love, for her stupidity.

She cried tears of anger, feeling rage sweep over her, cursing Azriel under her breath, calling him names. She was so angry. Angry at him for making her fall in love with him. Angry at him for making her feel. For having hope. Feelings and hope were things that she long ago placed in a place that she did not access and longed to forget. She hated Azriel Night for making her think that she could be loved, with a passion and devotion that Rhys offered her sister Feyre. She hated him for being even worse than Eris. At least Eris never offered her false hopes–he was what he was and she knew that going in. There would be no sweeping her off her feet by Eris. But Azriel…No, Azriel was gallant and strange. He courted her with ferocious intent and was not shy about showing her, and everyone around them, how much he wanted her. He loved her dog. He cooked for her. He cared for her. He cherished her. He joked, but he never pushed her into an uncomfortable place. She didn’t expect to find him and somehow, he landed on her doorstep. Literally. The old saying ‘it will happen when you least expect it’--well, it happened to her. She didn't expect him to sweep into her life and just overtake her whole existence. Because he did. And she hated him and herself, for allowing him so much power over her. She’d given him everything–her heart, first and foremost, but also access to her home, to her sanctuary and to her family. Even her father had accepted Azriel as an appropriate match for his beloved Elain. Elain was her father’s princess. She was the one he loved the most, and the one who gave him the most worry. He’d been lukewarm on Eris, despite Eris’s title and background. But Azriel–Azriel’d wormed his way into Sir Charles’s heart and Elain’s father came to like Azriel quite a bit.

But he never called. 

At some point, while operating like a zombie day in and day out, Elain couldn’t stand it anymore and swallowed her pride and messaged Gwyn Berdara.

She was mentally exhausted, thinking nonstop about Azriel and why he was acting the way he was acting. Unable to bring herself to reach out to him yet again, and receive yet another awful, one word answer, she opted for contacting Gwyn. She had no feelings about Gwyn either way–she’d only met her twice in person, and Gwyn wasn’t memorable enough for Elain to develop a strong opinion about her. But Gwyn didn’t respond to her either. Elain had sent a nonchalant sort of message of: Good morning! How are you? Just checking in to see how things are going with Azriel Night? I didn’t want to bother him as he is training and playing right now, but I am curious about your progress with him?

The message remained unread.

-

However, Elain Archeron did not need to wait for long to get answers to her questions. They came a day later, courtesy of the Daily Mail.

Another Mystery Woman for the Rackish Lothario?

Azriel Night,  Captain of Arsenal, never one wanting for female company, has been spotted at The Devonshire with a new companion. 

It seems that only a few months had passed since he was photographed on the streets of London carrying another woman in his arms following an attempted robbery. He’d been previously seen with the beautiful partner, now identified as Lady Elain Archeron, on more than one occasion. Hello Magazine even published a holiday spread of the lovely Archeron sisters and their partners in their Christmas edition. London society is still buzzing over the surprise marriage of Lady Feyre Archeron and Lord Rhysand Darling back in December, and over the budding romance between Lady Nesta Archeron, the Duchess of Velaris and Mr. Cassian Night (Azriel Night’s brother). 

By all accounts, the romance between the gorgeous aristocrat and Mr. Azriel Night was going splendidly and he’d been seen leaving her luxurious Russell Square townhouse, and even walking her pug, all through the month of December. However, it seems that their relationship is now on pause.

Mr. Night had been spotted dining at the upstairs restaurant at The Devonshire in the company of another woman. The yet to be named companion and Mr. Night enjoyed Sunday lunch at the Soho hotspot, dining on Roast Rib of Beef, all the trimmings and sticky toffee pudding. 

After so many trials and errors, will this one be the one to capture Azriel Night’s heart forever?

He was at The Devonshire on Sunday–the Sunday when it was Elain’s turn to cook Sunday roast. When everyone had come to her house for lunch. And by everyone, she meant–everyone. Rhys. Feyre. Her father. Nesta. CASSIAN. Cassian Night, who introduced her and Azriel, was at her dinner table, eating roast chicken and buttery peas. But his brother, Elain’s boyfriend, was on a date with someone else. 

A more awkward lunch couldn’t be imagined into existence, even by a talented writer.

Nesta was seething, smoke coming out of her ears. Cassian looked pained and uncomfortable. Rhys didn’t fare much better. 

But it was Piglet who broke everyone’s hearts. He sat by the front door for three hours–waiting for Azriel to arrive. He didn’t move. He didn’t eat. He waited. 

And waited.

And waited.

The whole family was here, and surely his dad would come as well. So he waited. He paced and then he lay on the floor, and he looked at the door, blinking his big brown buggy eyes.

Only Azriel never came.

-

It was a few days later, when Elain on on break between meetings and arranging dates that her phone lit up with a message. She looked at it and her face dropped. 

Gwyneth Berdara

Hi Elain! Things are going well, thank you for asking. How are you?

Elain Archeron

I am well, thanks! Forgive me for bothering you,

Gwyneth Berdara

It’s no bother! I apologise for not responding sooner. I had a presentation to create and it took all my energy and time! 😀

Elain Archeron

I can only imagine. I was just wondering how things are with Mr. Night? 

Gwyneth Berdara

We made the Daily Mail. Can you imagine? The one time we had lunch together. I can’t imagine spending all my life being hounded by journos

Elain Archeron

Oh, have you? I wasn’t aware that you were in the paper!

Gwyneth Berdara

😂 😂 I am suddenly a mini celebrity. Haha. I am only joking. But honestly? Don’t laugh, but we are mostly talking about football and working out. And hand to hand combat.

Elain Archeron

You are interested in hand to hand combat??

Gwyneth Berdara

I’ve been studying. Self-defence first, and then I got interested in other things. He is showing me some sicke moves! 

Elain Archeron

? Okay. I guess thank you for getting back to me. Let me know how it progresses.

Gwyneth Berdara

Will do. Also I didn’t realise the two of you were so close. He talks about you a lot. I know you were his matchmaker too but it’s like you are his GF or something.

Elain Archeron

Well, no worries. I am not. Thanks. Bye.

Elain was even more confused and upset about things after that bizarre exchange. Also, who used the expression ‘sicke moves’?

Professor Gwyn was into hand-to-hand combat? And Azriel was teaching her ‘sicke’ moves? Elain knew that Azriel was a fighter and grew up rough, but…what? 

There was no clarity around what was actually happening between Azriel and Gwyn after all that, and Elain only grew more and more anxious.

-

Another Sunday.

It was Nesta’s turn to cook and host, however, Sir Charles insisted that his daughters come to his house instead. And for that, Elain was grateful.

She was even more grateful to her sisters, who’d arrived without their men. She knew that they were lying when they said that both Rhys and Cassian were ‘busy’ on Sunday, but nevertheless, she was grateful to them. She didn’t think that she could handle another painfully awkward lunch with the handsome brothers who looked entirely too much like Azriel, and with her grieving pug. 

She was seated on the sofa, her legs tucked beneath her, her chin resting on her folded hands, as she looked out the window. It was raining. Rain. Rain. Rain. Endless fucking rain. 

She barely bothered today–her appearance was sallow and unkempt. She tied her hair in a messy bun, wore a beige jumper and a pair of yoga trousers–attire which was entirely inappropriate for Sunday lunch and not something she’d ever dare leave the house in. But she just couldn't bring herself to care. When the butler opened the door, he stepped back, lack of recognition evident on his face, before he quickly gathered himself and said, “Lady Elain, good afternoon. Please come in.”

Her father, and neither of her sisters comment on her appearance and the maudlin way that she moved around the house, with Piglet trailing behind her, his nose to the ground. No one was surprised when she went to her father’s study and curled up on the sofa, like she did when she was little.

“He’s lost weight,” Sir Charles noted, as he stroked Piglet’s back, while the pug lay unmoving in his lap.

“Two kilos,” Elain said, looking out the window. Expensive cars rolled down the street, taxis and stray pedestrians huddled under their umbrellas. Late January was miserable. Even the warmth of the fire in the marble fireplace didn’t make a difference. 

“That’s a lot for a pug,” her father commended. “Is he not eating?”

“He eats, but he doesn’t ask for snacks and mostly he just sits by the door,” Elain answered and wiped the tears that rolled down her cheeks. 

“Elain,” he began saying, but she rose up swiftly and rubbed her eyes vigorously.

“I am okay, daddy,”

“No you aren’t,” he said sadly. “No you aren’t”.

She shrugged, like it didn’t matter. And maybe it didn’t. Nothing much mattered.

“Let’s go eat.”

Just then, a knock on the door informed them that lunch was indeed served.

At least life was predictable. Pleasantly predictable here, with her family. There were no treacherous men and no disloyalty.

Feyre and Nesta were already at the table, their expressions worried, even though they tried really hard to act normal. 

“Hi Piggy, come here little boy,” Feyre tried to summon the pug, but Piglet didn’t even look at her and just went to his bowl, sniffing disinterestedly at the chicken and rice offering. 

Once the wine was poured and the soup was served and the butler left the dining room, Nesta, who’s been clutching at her spoon like she was going to lunge at someone with it, snarled,

“I have to say something,”

“Don’t say anything,” Feyre warned. “Nesta. Don’t.”

“That utter arsehole,” Nesta ignored her youngest sister and clutched at her napkin until her knuckles were white.

Sir Charles winced, knowing that the lunch was about to descend into chaos.

“Girls,” he began with a sigh, but suddenly was interrupted by Elain.

Her voice was monotone and she spoke without inflection, staring straight ahead.

“If I die before Piglet,” she said calmly, while the rest of her family tensed and stared at her with apprehension, “show him my body.”

“Elain,” Feyre gasped. But Elain ignored her and continued,

“Bring him over to my deathbed. Allow him to smell me. He will understand death. He will understand that I was gone and that I would not be coming back. Allow him to mourn me. But do not attempt to spare him the sight of me and my death. He should know that he was not abandoned. He must know that I died, but that I did not leave him. He must understand that unlike others, I did not abandon him. Not like his first family and not like Azriel. He should not be waiting by the door for me to come back. Take him to the funeral and allow him to watch me be lowered into the ground so he understands the finality of it all. He must know that Elain loved him and did not leave him on his own. She was not like Azriel. She never lied to him.” 

-

What Elain had missed the most was the casual intimacy.

As another week passed and January was coming to a close, Elain’s life returned to its natural, if boring routine. 

She worked, taking on more clients–thank god for January and ‘resolutions’ and people wanting to couple up–and that took a lot of her time. She was grateful for the distraction, but the nights and the weekends were tough.

Most evenings, she cried herself to sleep, while remembering all the good things that she’d lived through with Azriel. He wasn’t dead, yet the fissure of emptiness inside her chest that was created by his absence really felt like he had died. There was something unsaid and unfinished about them, which bothered her like a toothache. It was a wound which she kept irritating every time she remembered something about him.

How he was so effortlessly sexual with her, and how his relaxed sensuality allowed her to feel free with her own sexuality for the first time in her life. To Azriel, she was beautiful. Always beautiful. Never awkward or chubby or clumsy or strange.

The way he would habitually slap her bum, every time he passed by her. Or pinch it. Or caress it. Or cup it in his large hand. At first it scandalised her. And then, she grew to love it. She grew to expect it. 

The way he strutted around after a shower in only a towel wrapped around his hips, showing off his incredible body…goodness gracious! That was something to behold! The way she learned all the details of his form, no matter how insignificant–his tattoos, the shape of his shoulders, the thickness of his biceps, how his neck was a touch too long for his body, but how that made him appear more graceful. She knew exactly how many abdominal muscles he packed–more than six, and definitely eight, and she knew the shape of his long strong fingers. His hair curled slightly in the back of her neck. His hazel eyes had more green in them than brown, and were peppered with black specks. He had perfect toes. The V of his hips could only be called vicious, because it was so sharp and pointed right at his…The one thing Elain never got to see. She never saw his member. Felt it, knew that it was worryingly large and thick, but she never saw it.

She supposed that she always thought that they’d have more time. 

She recalled how one time, they were in a restaurant. It was moderately busy and they were seated by the window. It so happened that there was no one at the table in front of them, or by their side. So what did he do? He parted her shirt on her chest, and when she thought that he’d just cop a feel–something he did often and without hesitation–he bared her breast completely and tugged on her nipple, while kissing her lips. She sat there, completely delirious with love and arousal, while he pinched and rolled her nipple in his fingers, while squeezing her bare tit in his palm. Just as the waiter approached, he tucked her back in and acted like nothing happened. 

She missed him.

Sometimes, she screamed into her pillow, a long, tortured scream because she…well, she missed him. There was nothing that could replace him in her life. 

She loved him. Loved him when they were together, and loved him now–perhaps even more than before. 

-

He rang her. 

Once.

It was a day like any other. A blustery wintry afternoon, only 5 pm and already pitch black outside. Though slowly, but surely the days were getting a bit longer. Just a little. It was early February and Elain just changed into her comfy joggers and a sweatshirt having just come back from walking Piglet. He hated being outside, especially when it was cold and drizzling, and thankfully, it was a quick walk and he did his business in record time.

For some reason, it didn’t register with Elain that it was Azriel’s name on the Caller ID. 

She’d become so used to his calls and messages that it seemed normal that he’d be ringing her. 

“Hello,” she said.

He seemed surprised when he said, “Hi Elain”.

Everything stopped. 

The moment she heard that voice, that achingly familiar, smooth, deep voice she felt her hands shake, and her heart beat wildly in her chest.

She threw her phone on the counter as if it burned her and then, with her finger trembling, pressed the ‘speaker’ button.

“Why are you calling me?” she demanded, her voice barely a whisper.

He didn’t answer right away.

“Why?” she asked again, and to her horror her voice was already hoarse and weak, and she sounded strangled. Because there were tears in her eyes and she was hyperventilating.

“How are you?” he asked softly instead.

How was she?

How dare he?

How was she?

She howled like an animal in her sorrow over losing him.

She cried.

She screamed.

She wondered what she'd done and why he just left her without an explanation? 

She didn’t eat.

She didn’t sleep or she slept too much.

“Fine. Brilliant. All good,” she laughed a dry, angry laugh. “I am sure you are doing well too, right? How’s Gwyn?”

He sighed, like the sound of her voice pained him.

“I didn’t like the way things ended between us,” he told her somberly, ignoring her question.

“Well, it was your choice, wasn’t it?” she reminded him. 

“I suppose?”

It sounded like he wasn't sure.

“What do you want, Azriel?” she demanded.

“How’s Pink?” he asked instead.

“What do you want to hear exactly?”

Did he want to hear about Piglet crying by the door?

Did he want to hear about Piglet avoiding any football on TV and barking violently for her to change the channel if he saw anyone running on a green field?

Did he want to hear about Piglet sitting and waiting for him for hours, day after day, hoping that his dad would show up?

“You abandoned him,” she accused him savagely. “I told you not to make him fall in love with you. I told you not to allow him to get attached to you. I explicitly told you that this would happen if he thought of you as his own.”

“I am sorry,” he whispered brokenly.

“You did it all. You hurt us, Azriel. What do you expect to happen now?” she questioned him, feeling her voice becoming hysterical. “Two brothers and two sisters together at Christmas. A third sister alone. A third brother who used to date the third sister is now with some random woman. Is this your vision? For all of us to play happy families? Like nothing’s happened. Like we didn’t exist. Like what we had didn’t matter??”

“He did matter,” he argued. “It does.”

She ignored him.

“Cassian and Nesta are dating now. Feyre and Rhys are married. Instead of leaving me alone–like I requested, over and over again–you made me fall for you. Fall in love with you. And then you tossed me aside.”

“You love me?” he breathed a shocked gasp.

“What?” 

“You said you fell in love with me,”

“You are unbelievable,” she cried out. He was always deranged, but now he was even more incomprehensible. What was wrong with him?

“My dog is screaming any time he sees Arsenal signage. My heart is shuttered. Is that what you wanted?” Elain broke down in tears. “Is that what you wanted?

“I never wanted that,” he argued quietly. “I never,”

“What did you think would happen?” she insisted, sobbing. “That I can just walk away?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice devastated. “It all spiralled out of control…I didn’t want any of this.”

She wasn’t listening to him. 

She cried.

Cried for her lost love. Cried for the children she’d never have with him. Cried for the future they’d never have. Cried for not knowing what his perfect day consisted of. Cried for the Christmases they’d never celebrate together again. Cried for his touch and for his kisses and for him next to her in bed. Cried for the games she’d never cheer at. Cried for knowing that she’d never see him snuggling together with Piglet. 

She cried and Azriel listened.

She didn’t know how long it lasted–felt like an hour–and he didn’t say anything. He didn’t comfort her, but he didn’t ask her to stop either. 

At some point, Piglet came over. He looked up at her, watching her weep, and whimpered sadly, before curling himself at her feet.

“I am sorry, Elain,” Azriel whispered at last.

She quieted down, before telling him,

“I wanted to be your wife, you know. I wanted to build a family with you. I wanted to have your children.”

“I understand. And I am sorry.”

“I wish you happiness, Azriel. Even if you robbed me of mine.”

#elriel #elain archeron #azriel #azriel and elain #pro elriel #elain #elain x azriel #my fanfiction #A Match Baked In Heaven #my writing #Elriel fanfic #elain and azriel #azriel x elain #new chapter #acotar fanfiction #modern au

[gio-scrabbles]

It’s only my first week of classes and I’m already tired. That break was not long enough.

#gio rants #I need like two weeks to get back in the groove #especially if it’s for a brand new schedule

[you-are-constance]

if nothing else at least ive memorized my show music

#performing in a week and a half with a total of two rehearsals before then #with only One full run done by now. #memorizing show music is the only thing i can do to prepare for it #Constance speaks #i have a bass lesson today so i don't need to do a ton of practicing #buuuut i should at least run through some upright stuff/warm up #just bc before like two days ago i hadn't practiced upright in over a week #which is understandable bc. band camp. but i still need to do more practicing. #get back into the groove and whatnot

[bvtbxtch]

Angry Heart | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader (Part 1: Prom Night)

Series Summary: Your best friend Chrissy Cunningham always got everything she ever wanted, even you new friend and crush Eddie Munson. When Chrissy does the unthinkable, Eddie is left to pick up the pieces alone... or is he?

Chapter Summary: You have finally started to find your own groove after accepting that Eddie and Chrissy were an item, and ultimately more into each other than you. But why do you still feel such a strong connection to Eddie? Why are you secretly wishing for their downfall? Everything comes to a head during your final high school play and the prom where a new friend makes Eddie rethink everything.

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Chrissy Cunningham, Eddie Munson x Reader (eventually), reader and Chrissy are friends but have a fallout. Minimal usage of Y/N

Series warnings: MDNI 18 +, Smut, fluff and angst (everything all rolled into one beautiful shit show), mentions of drugs and alcohol being consumed, overall adult language and theme. By clicking the read more, you agree that you are over 18! Ageless and minor blogs who interact will be blocked.

Word Count: 9k (I got excited)

A/N: Holy hell! I never thought that this series would get so much love just from the prologue. I thought this was going to take me the next week or so to write, but I whipped this puppy out in 2 days. Thank you thank you thank you for all of the support. Again, your feedback, reblogs and replies are so appreciated!

Prologue

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

April 1986

Falling in love with Eddie Munson was easy. He made it so incredibly simple. The spring production rehearsals were in full swing and you got the lead role. It meant long hours in the theatre with your favorite metalhead, sharing snacks, laughing at inside jokes and telling deep dark secrets. You had started to spend equal amounts of time at the Hellfire table, making quick friends with Jeff and Gareth, you grew to love and protect the freshmen as your own as well. Even though you had no interest in playing DnD with them, Eddie always invited you to sit in on their campaigns. Chrissy and the other jocks started to distance themselves from you on the days you would decide to sit with them, but it started to bother you less as you made more meaningful connections with people who liked you for you. The last 5 months caught you off guard. Things seemed like they were normal, better than normal even; until you went home alone after school and remembered that Eddie had someone else keeping his bed warm. Chrissy was there. Your best friend stealing your other best friend away from you and nobody knew.

Things between you and Chrissy were tense only on one end. The blonde always greeted you in the hallway and passed you notes in class, blissfully unaware of the heartache her new romance had caused you. But when you were in a group, she seemed to unconsciously take value to others in the group. Eddie and Chrissy had started their relationship in private, and you were their sworn protector. Even when you didn’t necessarily want them, you got all the gory details of how Chrissy let Eddie feel her up for the first time, or how Eddie is a lot more well endowed than many had previously thought. It killed you on the inside, but throwing yourself into the spring show gave you a healthy distraction. Cheer kept you just close enough to Chrissy to keep up the feeling that things were not falling apart between the two of you, but you could focus on what you needed to do on the field. It felt good to put effort into new friends and reignite passions, even though the love the two of your best friends shared would always take up a small residence in the back of your mind. 

It was three weeks until prom. You were seriously considering not going, but you knew you would regret not going, so you decided that you would make an appearance, likely not a sober one, but you would show up. You waltzed past the posters in the cafeteria, and the ballot box being guarded by the student council, stationed around it like soldiers. You knew who would be winning each crown, there wasn’t even a point in voting for anyone else. You would be there to cheer Chrissy on for the third year in a row of winnings. Like clockwork, she would accept her crown, dance with whatever meathead got crowned king, and then help her fix her mascara that ran from her happy and “surprised” tears. You rolled your eyes thinking about it; but you were snapped out of your trance when you heard the blonde call your name. You reluctantly wave to her and the other ponytails looking expectantly at you and you start to cross the cafeteria. You are interrupted by a mop of light brown hair and a gleaming smile.

“Hey! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Gareth greets. You instantly relax as your new friend puts his arm over your shoulder and leads you to the Hellfire table. You look over Gareth’s shoulder to see the cheer table staring daggers at you. Chrissy looks disappointed, and the rest of the table looks mildly disgusted. Chrissy understood why you would hang out with the freaks but she still didn’t necessarily approve. Your image was important to her as you continued to be associated with her. You look at Chrissy apologetically, but happily turn and walk with Gareth. 

“It’s good to see you, Gareth” you smile up at him. 

“How are rehearsals going? You getting excited for the big show?” He remembered, and he seemed genuinely interested. 

“Yeah I guess so! I’m sort of ready for it to be over so we can push through exams and get out of here.”

You slide out your usual chair at the hellfire table, across from Gareth and beside Eddie at the head of the table. 

“I thought you were eating with Chrissy today?” Eddie questions. 

“Good to see you too, Ed…” you mumble. 

“No, it’s just… I wanted you to see if anyone had asked her to prom yet” Eddie leaned over and whispered to you. 

Gareth rolled his eyes. Eddie had recently let him in on his secret relationship with Chrissy, since he was missing or late to more and more hellfire meetings and had been mentally absent during their band practices. He needed someone else within the group to be able to cover for him when you couldn’t, and Eddie trusted Gareth with his life.

“Why the hell wouldn’t she be going with you?” you snorted. You knew that Eddie and Chrissy weren’t necessarily public, but you would never think that she would brush him off like that. 

“I don’t know… because I’m well… me” Eddie looked to the ground. You grabbed his hand and he instantly turned red. Your skin burned when you touched him. It felt like it had been so long since you had any physical contact which made you feel empty. Eddie was always one to give you a hug, or hold your hand or pick you up and carry you down to the theatre when you were running late. He was a tactile person and it took you until now to realize how much you really missed the way things were.

“Eddie Munson you listen to me, anyone would be lucky to go to prom with you” You turned pink as you reassured him. Gareth noticed and tried to hide his smirk underneath his hands. You kicked him under the table. You wish you were the lucky person that he would take, but you know that he would soon rather die than be seen with anyone else but Chrissy.

“ I don’t know” Eddie questions as he shyly pulls his hand away from yours. Both of you felt cold after the loss of contact. “I just really like her and I really want her to be with me, you know, not in secret… sometimes I think she’s ashamed of me.”

“Well, that’s her problem then, isn’t it?” Gareth snaps. He was so tired of watching Eddie stomp all over your heart when he knew that Chrissy was going to do the same to him eventually.

Both yours and Eddie's heads snapped to look at him. He was never one to question anything from Eddie, but he looked bothered. He stood up and left the table without a word. 

“What’s up with him?” You chide. Eddie shrugs and picks at his pretzels. 

“Hey, I was wondering if you could give Chrissy a note for me? I think I’m gonna ask her to go to prom with me today.”

“Ed, shouldn’t you just go up and talk to her? She’s your girlfriend for fucks sake.” You were getting sick of being put in the middle. Neither of them understood how much their romance crushed you. 

“Whatever, I thought you would wanna help me, seeing as you’re my best friend and all, but I’ll just humiliate myself then”. He shoved his chair backwards and with a huff, he stormed out of the cafeteria. Eddie was always one for theatrics. Usually it was entertaining, but this felt more like a toddler’s temper tantrum. You rolled your eyes and flipped him off as he left.

Eddie’s departure caught the eye of Chrissy. She looked at you quizzically and you gestured for her to follow him and rolled your eyes. She discreetly got up and trotted out the exit Eddie had just used. The back exit opened up to the field outside. You could see Eddie’s figure heading out to the bleachers - the place where you often went to to get out of O'Donnell's class, or smoke after a particularly stressful rehearsal. But it wasn’t sacred to you two anymore. It was their spot now. You could see Chrissy’s figure following behind him. You took the rest of Eddie’s pretzels and ate them with a huff.

The final night of the play was here. Your last hurrah as the lead and the last show you may ever be a part of. Hawkins for sure does not have a thriving theatre community, so who knows what other opportunities you might have. You didn’t want this to be the last time though, it made your heart hurt and you wished this night would never end.  You had spent your time before curtain warming up with Eddie. He could tell you were nervous. 

“Sweetheart, I am telling you, you have nothing - and I mean nothing to worry about. You have been crushing this whole show run. All you have to do is go on stage and do your thing! And if anything bad happens, I tell the booth to blackout and I cut your mic!” he giggles. You didn’t find it as funny. You paced back and forth across the small stage, arms shaking and your breath hitching. None of your friends had been there to see your performance yet. You weren’t expecting many people, at least Chrissy, but she hadn’t said a word about your show or if she was coming. You pacing was driving Eddie wild. He hated seeing you so bothered.

“Y/N just relax” Eddie grabbed you by your shoulders and your whole body went stiff. Your breath caught in your chest and your heart sank to the floor. You could feel his breath on your face; you hadn’t been this close in a long time. Without being able to help yourself, your eyes flicker from his to his lips. All you would have to do is lean up and your mouth could be on his. His gaze lowered to your lips as well. You wanted to give in so badly, you wanted to kiss him, to feel like his again - but you couldn’t do that to your friend. You broke his contact and took a step back. Eddie cleared his throat and looked at you expectantly. 

“Did Chris say when she was coming to the show?” You ask, clearing your throat in an attempt to clear the thick, tense air. Eddie’s gaze went from soft and longing to hardened. Eddie looked to the floor and shifted his weight. 

“I-uh I don’t know… I haven’t talked to her in the past couple of days.” Your eyes doubled in size.

“What do you mean? What happened that day after lunch?” 

“I don’t want to talk about it” Eddie turned to stalk back behind the wings of the stage. You pulled his arm back and turned him towards you.

“Eddie, please. What happened?”

“She said she didn’t want to go to prom with me, okay? Are you happy now? Is that what you fucking wanted to hear?” His voice boomed through your skull. His eyes were glassed over, dangerously close to spilling tears, like yours have already started to do. He had never talked to you like that.

“Wha-what do you mean?”

“Oh don’t be so naive. You’re fucking happy that Chrissy doesn’t want to be seen with me. This is what you wanted the whole time, right?

“What the fuck are you talking about?” you whisper to him, tears free flowing. “Why the fuck are you coming at me now when you just wanted to kiss me? I know you felt that too and you can’t deny that to me” You yell at him with a shove. You were shaking. You wanted to pour your heart out to him now, tell him how angry you were and admit that maybe you were happy that things weren’t picture perfect for them. But it wasn’t worth it now. 

“You know what, Eddie? You both deserve each other. Have a great show” you turn away from him, panting. You felt like you were going to fall to the ground because your legs felt like jello. Eddie grabbed you by the shoulders. You both looked into each other's eyes, glassy with emotion. For the first time in what seems like forever, you could not tell what Eddie was thinking. His eyes clouded with conflict, with anger, but with something else you couldn’t quite decipher. His lips quivered and his cheeks were flushed. 

You felt like your head was going to explode. What was going on? You felt like all of your weight, your body and soul were all dependent on Eddie holding you up. In one swift movement he pulled you in and his lips were on yours. Your whole body tensed, your eyes remained on his face. It was so wrong. This wasn’t supposed to happen like this. But as much as your mind was screaming at you, his lips felt perfect on yours, like they were made to be there. Your heart was on fire and you felt like you might crumble into tiny pieces. But this is not how it was supposed to be.

You pull away and look at him. His eyes were beautiful. The glow of his chocolate irises were back. He looked at you like you were his world, but he looked guilty. 

You slapped him across the cheek. You turned around and you paced back to the dressing room, leaving Eddie there with a burning cheek and a hole in his own heart. He walked backstage.

“Fuck!” He yelled and punched the cinderblock wall, making his knuckles bleed. He trudged back up to the booth to prepare for the show, the feel of your lips on his lingered on his  like a tattoo.

You took your final bows with heavy applause. Your heart felt warm and finally you felt like things were falling into place for you. The stage is where you belonged and where you felt the most like yourself. You had almost forgotten that you were standing in the very spot where Eddie Munson kissed you for the first time three hours prior. He shouldn’t have done that. You shook the memory out of your head. He didn’t matter right now, this was your time. You gestured up to the booth for their applause and there your gaze met Eddie’s. He was beaming, both dimples showing from the sides of his cheeks. For a moment, you saw your proud best friend. You saw the boy you made friends with in seventh grade art class and you saw the boy that came and knocked on your door to see if you wanted to go to the arcade with him. You beamed back at him, in hopes that he felt those same feelings as well. You eyes cast down to the audience and you searched for the other face you were so wishing to see. Chrissy was nowhere to be found. Instead, you saw another mop of shorter dusty brown curls and four other hellfire shirts to accompany him. Gareth whooped when you took your final bow. Your heart soared. You finally found your moment. 

The Hellfire club waited for you in the hallway outside of the auditorium. Jeff and Gareth each wielding bouquets of flowers to give you. The freshmen were buzzing about the performance. You ran to them and embraced them in a big group hug. You thought your face was going to break from how wide you were smiling. 

“Holy crap, Y/N! You were amazing!” Mike gushed.

“That actually made me regret not going to more plays here” Gareth laughed and handed you the bouquet in his hands.

“Thanks guys. I am so happy you’re here” You were so relieved to be telling the truth from the bottom of your heart. It seemed like forever since you could be totally honest with yourself.

“Dude, we wouldn’t have missed it” Jeff offered his bouquet to him and you gave both older boys kisses on the cheek. 

“Did I ever tell you guys that you’re the best?” You exclaimed, while you brought them in for another group hug. 

“I’m just gonna run and grab my things from the dressing room and then we should go grab something to eat! I am starved!” You turned and trotted towards the stage door. 

“Hey, Y/N wait!” Gareth ran up to your side

“What’s up?” Gareth shifted his weight and looked to the floor. 

“I want you to know that we - I think you’re great.”

“Thanks, Gareth” you wrapped your hand around his wrist and gave it a squeeze.

“You deserve better than you’re getting, sweetheart.” Your smile faltered.

“What do you-”

“You know what I mean, Y/N…” Gareth implored. You nod. 

“I know that I am not your first choice, but I was wondering if you wanted to go to prom together? I promise I am not in like love with you or anything, and I want to go with you as a friend, but I don’t want to see you go alone, or worse go with friends you don’t like or don’t show up at all because I think you could win pro-” You cut Gareth off by giving him a tight hug and when you pull away you give him a kiss to his cheek. Your eyes wet with gratitude.

“Gareth, I would love to go to prom with you” Gareth lets a long breath out and laughs.

“Okay, great. That’s really great… cool” You squeezed his shoulder and turned towards the door again.

“I’m gonna go grab my stuff and then we can talk more about plans over some food” You offered. 

“Okay cool! Awesome! And Y/N? We’re all really proud of you. You shone out there.”

Gareth retreats back to the group to wait for you. Eddie had now joined the group, his face looked hardened. Why did you just give Gareth a kiss on the cheek? He knew, like him, that you were a tactile person. You showed your appreciation in physical ways, but he had never seen you be so close to Gareth. It bothered him more that it should. “What was that about?” Eddie interrogated.

“Nothing man, I was just congratulating her.”

“Did she say anything about me?” Eddie pressed.

“...No? Why would she?” The rest of the group snickered at Gareth’s remarks. Eddie turned away. Not only was his mind racing, desperate to talk to you, but now he was embarrassed in front of his own group of friends. He couldn’t take being in the same room with you right now. He needed time to think.

“Alright, I’m going then.” Eddie stalked off to the double doors.

“Wait! You aren’t going to come out to celebratory dinner with us?” Dustin whined. 

“Not this time. I got shit to take care of” Eddie retorted. 

“Probably another hot secret date” Jeff poked at Gareth and they both laughed. 

Eddie grumbled as he turned and opened the door to the parking lot, a cigarette already out of his pocket and in his mouth. He needed to find Chrissy.

It was 11:36pm. Chrissy had gotten home just an hour ago from an outing with Tiffany and Sarah. Her stomach was in knots, she was afraid her reputation was slipping. They had both made a comment about you sitting with the Hellfire club recently and she instantly went into defensive mode. She couldn’t handle them talking shit about you, her best friend and her boyfriend. The girls grilled Chrissy about why she had been being so nice towards the Hellfire seniors and started to put two and two together.

“Oh my god, did that Freak Munson put a spell on you or something when you went for that deal?” Sarah sneered.

“Holy shit! That would make sense as to why Y/N is spending so much time with him too. I heard she sucked his soul out of his-”

“Okay enough!” Chrissy boomed. She could feel her chest caving in. She hated hearing people talk about you that way, but she hated the idea of you and Eddie being together even more.

“He was really sweet and friendly to me when I went over to his trailer. He seems like a really nice guy. And Y/N is one of us, she wouldn’t do that with him.” Tiffany and Sarah sat with their mouths ajar, unwilling to believe that Chrissy would ever talk back to them like that. 

“Oookay, Chris. Didn’t know you were like, in love with him” Tiffany teased. 

“Ugh, as if. Let’s just drop it…” Chrissy mumbled.

She couldn’t sacrifice her already jeopardized reputation by being seen in the auditorium, where both you and Eddie would be. She wouldn’t be able to help herself around him. Her feelings towards the metalhead, although still conflicted, were growing stronger. She didn’t know how much longer she could hold out in keeping this a secret if she was going to actively be seen in public with him. 

She had plopped onto her perfectly made bed with a new Danielle Steele novel when she heard a knock at her window. She looked up and her face contorted into the most beautiful look of surprise to see her favorite curly haired metalhead at the window. He looked like he lost his lucky DnD dice. She opened the window quickly and stood out of the way to let him stumble into her room.

“Eddie? What’s wrong, darling?”

“Are your parents home?” he grabbed her waist and began to back her into her wall.

“Ummm no, they’re out” Chrissy breathed. Eddie pressed his lips to her neck, moved his right hand up her torso as his left hand flicked the lock on her door.

You had tried to call Chrissy a few times after you had returned from the diner with the hellfire club. You were hurt and wanted to know where she had been. But most importantly, you wanted to tell her what happened between you and Eddie. Although you also felt your friendship slipping, this was something you couldn’t keep from her. You had showered your show hair and makeup off and had gotten yourself into comfortable pjs. The flowers the boys had got you sat neatly in a vase on your nightstand; they made you smile every time you looked at them. You had just closed your eyes and surrendered to sleep when your phone rang. You answered and you heard the cheery voice that you had been waiting for.

“Hey babe! How was the show?” So she did remember, but just decided not to show up.

“It was great Chris, but it would have been a lot better if you were actually there.” You tried not to sound angry, because in the long run, you really wanted her there. She hurt you more than made you mad. 

“Yeah, I’m really sorry, I had this thing that I couldn’t get out of with Tiffany and Sarah. I’m sorry, you know I’ll be at the next one” She offered.

“What if that was the last one, Chris? You know what, I would rather not do this over the phone… Can I come over?”

“Oh.” Her voice dropped. “Yeah, Okay.”

“I’ll be there in 10.”

You knock on Chrissy’s door. Unlike her previous visitor, you knew you were always welcome at her house. She was quick to open the door. She looked perplexed, worried even. It wasn’t often that you saw her being anything but her shiny happy self. You knew something was very wrong. She knew too.

“Hi.” You offer

“Hi… come in” she opens the door wider to let you into her foyer. She holds her cardigan tight to her chest. You follow her up her stairs and into her bedroom. It felt so familiar but there was a tension that made this feel foreign. You sat yourself on the end of her bed while she perched herself on her vanity stool. Even though you were facing each other, you found it hard to make eye contact with each other.

“I need to tell you someth-”

“I feel like we need to-”

You both started talking at the same time and with an awkward chuckle, you stopped talking so she could speak.

“Eddie came over after the play” Chrissy whispered. You clenched your jaw. 

“Oh, I couldn’t tell from the numerous hickies on your neck, Chris.” you poked. She wrapped her cardigan around her small frame tighter and kept her stoic expression. 

“Eddie told me that you kissed him at the theatre” she said, her tone hard. You shook your head in disbelief.

“Is that what he really told you?” You pressed. She nodded her head, not being able to make eye contact with you. 

“Huh. So what if I told you that he kissed me? That we had a fight over the fact that you won’t be seen in public with him? That he accused me of being happy that my two best friends in the whole fucking world were destroying each other, all while they pretend that I don’t exist anymore and just keep shitting on each others’ feelings, leaving me in the middle of this whole mess?” you started to raise your voice. You couldn’t believe that Eddie would ever lie about what happened, and you really couldn’t believe that Chrissy would believe him. 

“That sounds like a real easy way to shift the blame, Y/N. You kissed my boyfriend” Chrissy snaps, tears threatening to spill.

“Bullshit, Chrissy! He kissed me! And I still don’t fucking know why! He kissed me, I pulled away, I slapped him in his stupid fucking face and I left.” You screamed. Your tears flowing freely. This had been the single most confusing night of your life. You thought that the two people you loved the most couldn’t betray you more than they already had.

“Well, that’s not the story that Eddie told me” She whispered.

“Yeah… it seems like Eddie told you that story all over your body, Chrissy” she gasped and lunged for her bedroom door. Your face twisted in disgust. He used you because he was mad at Chrissy, and the he used her to lessen the blow.

“Get out.” She sobbed. 

“You tell me to leave right now, you are telling me that you believe Eddie’s word over mine - fuck, not even Eddie’s, a stupid fucking boy over my word. Me. Your best friend. The one who has been there for you since forever.” The air was thick. Both of your eyes were red and chests heaving. 

“I do. I believe him.” Chrissy gasped.

You cackled as you stood up. You huffed out of her room and bound down her stairs. You opened and slammed her front door shut and climbed into your car. You sped out of her driveway and rounded the corner. When you got out of eyeshot from her house, you turned off your car, slammed your hands on your steering wheel and screamed at the top of your lungs. 

You wanted to go see Eddie. You wanted him to tell you that it would all be okay. You wanted him to wipe your tears away and you wanted him to hold you with the same passion he did at the theatre. You wanted him to kiss you and tell you that you were right and she was wrong; but you also knew that she would be calling him right now and she would be getting the comfort you so desperately needed. You turned your ignition and started back to your house. 

The next weeks of school seemed to bleed together. You felt numb. You had no play, no Chrissy and no Eddie. Every other day, Gareth would meet you in the library to eat lunch with you. You were so thankful for his friendship. You didn’t have the heart to tell him what happened with Eddie and Chrissy; knowing that it would cause yet another rift within their tight group. He also thought that it was best to keep the fact that the two of you were going to prom together between the two of you to prevent the same thing; But, he knew that Chrissy had pushed you to the side. You had secretly thought that she was waiting for a reason to ditch you as a friend, seeing as you weren’t what Chrissy envisioned as a perfect person to put on her social resume. You knew that the cheer girls were starting to treat her differently because you were friends and you didn’t subscribe to the jock way of life. Gareth was there to listen through it all, and although your heart was broken, it was comforting to know that you still had a friend that was willing to help you put the pieces back together. You were grateful that one of the biggest nights of the year was going to be spent with him. 

May 1986 

Your preparations had begun as prom week came. You took Gareth shopping for a new shirt and tie.

“Are you sure I don’t need like, a tux or something?” he questioned.

“Do either of us look like we are fancy or rich enough to be tux people?” you joked.

“Fair enough.”

“You are going to look awesome in whatever we find!” you praised. Gareth beamed back at you.

You walked through starcourt mall arm in arm. The sting from the past couple of weeks had become a dull ache and you started to appreciate the little things again. You had been bold enough to take your seat at the hellfire table last Friday and although Eddie looked at you quizzically, he didn’t say anything. It seemed like there was a silent agreement between the two of you, that you were both going to put what happened at the show behind you. As much as you both wanted to though, neither of you could forget. You both remembered each time you looked into each other’s eyes. Your conversations had begun to pick up again, they were surface level and short, but you were happy for the small sense of normalcy. You wondered if Chrissy did tell Eddie about the conversation the two of you had. But in your growth you decided that you didn’t need to know that, and worrying over it was just going to cause you more stress than it was worth. 

As you and Gareth passed through the food court, a pair of chocolatey brown eyes fixed on your figure. Eddie had posted up at the mall with Steve Harrington, the former King of Hawkins High and adult friend to many of the Hellfire freshmen. 

“Dude, you gotta relax.” Steve warned. Eddie’s jaw had instantly tightened and his body had stiffened when he had seen you and Gareth walking through the mall. Why the hell were you out with him?

“Why is she here with him? Why is she holding him like that?” Eddie sneered.

“Is… Is Eddie Munson Jealous? I thought you were boning the hottest girl in school?” 

“Yeah boning. But we’re also dating and she doesn’t want anyone to know that”

“Shit, dude” Steve gulped.

“Yeah… Shit.” Eddie wished he had natural charm like Steve. Maybe it would make it easier for Chrissy to like him. He hated that he was questioning his whole person because of a stupid girl. But he really thought that he liked her. But how could she like him if she didn’t even want to be seen in public with him. Eddie ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated, overwhelmed and wanting to burn starcourt mall down if it meant that you wouldn’t be here with Gareth anymore.

You found Gareth a satin button up shirt and he stole a lavender bowtie that matched the color of your dress. You were finally laughing and joking faintly like you used to. It made Gareth’s heart soar. He cared greatly for you, but knew that your heart belonged to Eddie. It never stopped belonging to him, even if you told him repeatedly that you didn’t have feelings for the Hellfire leader. Even though he was hoping you weren’t going home with him on prom night, Gareth was more than happy to be taking you.

Tonight was the night. Eddie was sure that everyone in his graduating class was stirring with anticipation and excitement for what was going to be the best night of their lives. Eddie wasn’t as optimistic. He had put on his best black jeans (the ones with no holes in them) and was sitting on his bed, lazily strumming his guitar with a lit joint hanging out of his mouth while he waited for his wet curls to come to life. He didn’t want to go anymore. Chrissy had ensured the fact that she was going with Jason Carver meant nothing but keeping up appearances and that she would save a dance with him once she was crowned prom queen. Eddie felt like a charity case and had been feeling so increasingly often lately, Chrissy only daring to talk to him through notes left in his locker, or going to their hiding spot during their class breaks. Eddie was sure that he wanted to be in love with her. But when he kissed Chrissy, it didn’t feel like it did when he kissed you. He was so confused. Your relationship was finally amicable again, and he had the girl that he had been chasing after for years. But he was scared to see you tonight because he was worried he was going to mess everything up. He could be in love with Chrissy, but it seemed like Chrissy might not love him back. But maybe you did. Eddie let out a loud groan and flopped back onto his bed. He finished his joint and put on his burgundy dress shirt and put his arms through his vest. He put on his freshly polished rings and toed on his reeboks. He reluctantly started his van and began his drive to Hawkins High.

Gareth picked you up at 7 o’clock sharp. You answered the door with a bright smile and his face lit up the dusk behind him.

“Wow, girl. You look amazing!” Gareth looked you up and down. Your lavender sleeves landed just off of your shoulders, highlighting the pearls that rested on your collar bone. Your tiered skirt flowed and shimmered beautifully with the light.

“Says you! I told you you didn’t need to get a tux!” you slap him on the shoulder. To your surprise Gareth had showed up in a full tuxedo, sporting the shirt and tie the two of you had picked out.

“Yeah I know but my mom was so excited that I was going that she went out and bought me one anyway” You both laughed as you turned to take your polaroid camera off of the entryway table. 

“Let's take a picture to commemorate the occasion” you tease. The two of you place your cheeks together and smile for the camera. The light flashes and you both giggle. You were so excited to be spending an evening with your friend. 

“Jeff gonna meet us there?”

“One step ahead of you!” You heard from Gareth’s truck. Jeff stuck his head out of the back and gave you a huge smile and a wave. You laughed as you closed the door behind the two of you. Tonight was going to be a good night.

Chrissy had stationed herself at Tiffany’s directly after school to prepare for what was going to be the best night of her life. Sarah had snuck a bottle of champagne from her mother’s wine cellar and by 6pm, Chrissy could feel her own pulse in her head. She felt beautiful, she looked beautiful, but even her baby pink slip dress could not hide the insecurity on her face. The stakes were high and all she wanted was everything to go the way she wanted. Her glossed lips sank another flute of champagne while they waited for Jason and his posse to show up in the limo.

When you arrived, the Hawkins gym was decorated with tinsel and adorned with snack and drink tables on the opposite side of the stage. Your stomach fluttered at the excitement of being at your senior prom with some of the people you loved the most. You grab some punch and you Gareth and Jeff sit. Your head was on a swivel looking for a beautiful blonde, or a mop of brown curls, but to no avail. You took a big sigh and shook out your hands. Tonight was going to be a good night, you repeated to yourself. No one was going to ruin this for you. 

“Wanna dance?” Gareth held his hand out to you. You gladly grabbed it and let him sweep you out to the dancefloor. He spun you and you laughed. Any thoughts of anyone else dissipated as you laughed and danced with your best friend.

Chrissy entered the gym in awe, teetering on her pumps, and brain fuzzy from the champagne. It was her night for a win and she knew that. She walked arm in arm with Jason, a smile plastered wide and eyes full of expectation. Her eyes faltered when she saw you smiling and laughing with your date, she didn’t remember his name. She longed to give you a hug and apologize. She wanted to dance and laugh with you, but she knew that now wasn’t the time. She needed to focus. Tonight was her night. 

Eddie trudged into the gym, head already aching from the synth pop being played out of the large speakers. He grabbed a small flask out of his back pocket and took a swig. He sauntered over to the punch bowl and grabbed a cup, eyes scanning for two women. He found neither. Who he did find was his hellfire clubmates sitting at a table on the outskirts of the gym. Eddie tramps to them.

“Who let the freshmen in here?”

“Your guess is as good as mine” Jeff offers as he shakes Eddie’s hand “Looking good Ed. I didn’t know you even knew what a dress shirt was”

“Ha ha… I feel like shit. How long do we have to be here for?” Eddie whines

“Dude no one is making you stay! So have some fun with your friends would you?” Dustin scolds. Eddie scowls as he sinks into a chair at the round table. He immediately senses your absence. He looks around inquisitively.

“Where’s Y/N?” He asks. Jeff nods towards you on the dancefloor and Eddie’s heart stops. You looked absolutely radiant. He felt his hands get clammy and his chest got tight. You looked so happy and carefree. He missed seeing you like this, his girl the way he remembers you the best. He smiles to himself when he hears you laugh.

“Gareth, stop spinning me, I'm gonna throw up!” 

His smile faded. Gareth? You were here with Gareth? He saw the mop head holding your hands and laughing with you. Suddenly, Eddie felt sick to his stomach. He could feel his pulse in his ears and he saw red. Jeff saw Eddie’s gaze harden.

“Eddie, don’t.” Jeff warns. “She’s having a really good time.”

Eddie didn’t respond. He took the flask out of his pocket and took a long swig. As he put it away, he stood up, vision locked on your dancing figures. Jeff sighed and put his head in his hands. Dustin and Mike looked at him confused. Jeff shook his head at them, implying that they didn’t want to know.

Eddie sauntered up to Gareth and grabbed his shoulder. Your smile faded as Gareth turned around to face Eddie.

“Hey, can we talk?” Eddie seethed through gritted teeth. Gareth looked at you apologetically.

“I’ll be right back okay?” He squeezed your hand and let Eddie guide him out of the gym. You were left in the middle of the dancefloor, too stunned to move or say anything. Dustin came to your side and asked if you wanted to sit back down with the club. You nodded, dazed, but followed after the two boys into the hallway instead.

Eddie pushed Gareth into the hallway and grabbed onto his lapels. You ducked around the corner so you were within earshot and close enough to help Gareth if he needed it.

“What the fuck are you doing Gareth?”

“What are you talking about, Munson?” Gareth pushed Eddie off and he began to smooth out his jacket.

“Why are you here with her?”

“What, like you were going to ask her to go with you?” Gareth challenged. Eddie looked at him dumbfounded. “Look, Eddie. If you really cared about her, you would let her have a good time tonight. You’re too busy with Chrissy lately anyway so I don’t know why this is suddenly such a big deal…”

Eddie clenched his fists and stalked towards Gareth. You covered your mouth to prevent the two from hearing your gasp.

“That’s my girl… you’re here with my-”

“Oh shut the hell up, Munson! She’s not your girl! Your girl is here with Jason fucking Carver. The guy that has been tormenting us for fucking years! Get your head out of your ass and stop playing with Y/N. She isn’t yours.” Gareth yelled. Eddie wracked out a sob and turned away from his friend. Gareth’s stomach sank and he watched his friend unravel in the hallway.

“I didn’t ask her here romantically, Eddie.” Gareth offered. “I care about her a lot, but I know that she doesn’t like me. I know exactly who she wants to be here with.” Gareth bores into Eddie, only hoping that their conversation will knock some sense into him. You slip back into the gym and sit with the hellfire club, mind racing thinking about what you just heard.

“If you’ll excuse me, I am going to continue to keep having fun with my friend.” Gareth stepped closer to Eddie and clapped him on the shoulder. “Get your shit together, Munson, and then try and enjoy yourself for once.” With that, Eddie was left alone in the hallway. He pulled at the roots of his hair, and let a string of profanities leave his mouth. It was better than punching a wall like last time.

Gareth returned to the gym and sat next to you with a smile, reassuring you everything was fine. Gareth whispered in your ear, telling you he wasn’t going to let anyone ruin this night for you or him and that it was time to have fun and forget about everything happening outside of this night. You couldn’t agree more. You wrapped your arms around his neck and gave him a thankful hug. He laughed as the two of you positioned yourselves towards the stage as the principal announced the prom king and queen would be crowned shortly.

Eddie slithered back into the gym, his arms crossed and a grimace glued on his face. He saw Chrissy and although his heart should have skipped a beat, it did nothing. She looked beautiful, gorgeous even. But she wasn’t you. But you made it clear, and Gareth made it clear. You weren’t his and you didn’t owe him anything. You deserved to have a good night and as much as he wanted to take you away and drive off with you, he knew that couldn’t happen. So he would settle for his dance in secret, and the potential for some action after Chrissy got her ten minutes of fame. 

As the microphone squealed and the gym quieted, Chrissy shifted in her chair restlessly. Her dress felt too tight, and Jason felt too close. She wanted the boy that made her feel the prettiest. She wanted the boy who would do anything for her to be beside her. She wanted to dance with the boy who told her that he adored her. Her eyes scanned around the gym and she saw him lingering against the back wall. She sent him a wave as she smiled brightly. He waved back but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. She thought she knew why he was so upset. He hated seeing her with Jason. She was starting to hate being here with Jason too. When Jason was called for prom King, he patted Chrissy on the thigh, gave her a kiss on the forehead and sauntered up to the stage to receive his crown. Chrissy felt like she was going to be sick. This was the single most important moment to her. Principal Higgins held a white envelope in his hands.

“And this year’s prom queen is…” He fumbled with the envelope.

You were rooting for Chrissy. You knew that you didn’t need to be, but there was part of you that was longing for your old friend back. Maybe her winning prom queen would bring her back from her orbit. 

“Chrissy Cunningham”

Chrissy opened her perfectly glossed lips into a gasp. She stood timidly and strutted to the stage to accept her crown and flowers. She flashed a beauty pageant smile and wave and sobbed a thank you to the gym. You could tell that she was definitely not sober. You worried for her, but this was also your night. She was Jason’s problem, not yours. It gave you a small bit of relief to see Eddie was not in a matching baby pink getup to the blonde’s. They didn’t come here together. You knew you shouldn’t be holding out hope, but the scene he caused on the dancefloor and now this, you couldn’t help but be a bit hopeful.

Once Chrissy and Jason took a bow as king and queen, the DJ had spun a slow song. Gareth offered you his hand again and you happily accepted it. Dancing with Gareth had been the most fun you have had in a while. You both went to the dancefloor and dramatically rocked each other back and forth. 

Chrissy left the stage and as Jason went to grab her to dance with her, she tossed her flowers to him and trudged across the gym in Eddie’s direction. Jason looked back to his posse confused, he followed Chrissy’s bouncy curls to the opposite end of the gym.

Eddie nursed his flask as dancers started to repopulate the space. He saw you get up with Gareth. He scoffed and took another swig of his flask. When his eyes returned to the mass of students, he saw a pair of bright blue eyes bounding towards him. He stood in shock, not knowing what Chrissy was doing. When she reached the wall he was leaning against, she stuck out a perfectly manicured hand to him, her face set with determination. She led him to the middle of the dance floor. 

“Chris, wh-what are you doing?” Eddie breathed

“Shut up, Munson. W-we are gonna d-dance:” she slurred. 

“We don’t have to-” She stopped him in the middle of the gym and wrapped her arms around his neck. He could see Jason fuming behind her and he smirked down at her. 

“You’re ready to stir the pot aren’t you, doll?” Eddie chuckled. 

“Yeah, I’m r-r-ready to start some, some shit b-because I-I love you, E-Eddie Munson.” Her blue eyes bore into him. Did he really just hear her properly? He felt like there was only one right thing to say.

“I, I love you too, Chrissy,” Eddie hesitated. Before he could wrap his head around what had happened, Chrissy pulled his head down to hers and planted a searing kiss on him. He quickly returned her offer and swiped his tongue over her lips. She deepened the kiss. Eddie felt like he was floating, but it didn’t feel like it was a good feeling. Chrissy tasted sour like wine and Eddie’s head pounded. But feeling this was better than feeling nothing. It was better than the emptiness he felt when he saw you being held by someone else. He kissed Chrissy like no one was watching, while in reality all of the gym had directed their gaze to the world's oddest couple they could imagine.

You swayed Gareth back and forth, laughing so hard your stomach hurt and your face felt like the smile was never going to leave. Once your laughs subsided, you pulled Gareth in closely and rested your head on his shoulder. You closed your eyes and hummed in content. 

“Thank you, Gareth. This has been such a great night”

“You’re welcome, Y/N. I am having so much fun with you” Gareth rubbed small circles into your waist as you turned slowly. You opened your eyes and you instantly stood up, your body tensing under Gareth’s touch.

“Hey, what’s wr-” Gareth turned to look behind him and saw the picture perfect way to ruin your night. Gareth stiffened and grabbed your hand. You didn’t want to look but you couldn’t avert your gaze. You felt like you were going to be sick. Gareth grabbed your hand and whispered in your ear.

“Let’s go get some fresh air, okay?” You nodded your head and let him lead you out of the gym.

As Eddie broke his kiss, the first thing he saw was you taking in their display. Then he saw you turn and leave the gym with Gareth’s hand in yours. Eddie grabbed Chrissy’s hand and kissed it and ran out of the gym after you. 

You refused to let the tears fall. You didn’t want to ruin your night with Gareth and you didn’t want to give Eddie and Chrissy the satisfaction. Why would he look at you the way he did, why would he say those things to Gareth? Why would he call you his girl? Gareth could tell you were trying to process, so he squeezed your hand to ground you and remind you he was here for you. 

“Y/N” you hear a familiar voice ring out. The voice you wanted to hear the most and the least. You turn to find Eddie standing in the middle of the empty hallway. Gareth gripped onto your hand tighter, a scowl setting on his face.

“What do you want, Eddie?” you manage to squeak out.

“I-I’m sorry” he huffed. “I’m so fucking sorry”

“For what, Eddie? For being defensive all night, telling Gareth that I’m your girl?” Gareth and Eddie both tensed. “For knowing that my heart fully belongs to you and you actively shitting on it? What is it?” You were angry. You deserved to be angry. This time, it was Eddie’s turn to cry. You walked towards him, cheeks growing hot. You came chest to chest with him when you heard the gym door fly open.

“E-Eddie, my love?” Chrissy giggled. She stopped when she saw the three of you in the hallway. “Oh no.” She murmured. 

“Chrissy, go back inside. I’ll be there in a minute.” Eddie ordered. You scoffed and rolled your eyes. Tears are now dangerously close to ruining your makeup.

“Hmmmm, no. I think I wanna st-stay for this Teddy” she cooed. She stumbled towards him and threw her weight on him. 

“Yeah, Teddy. She might want to stay for this.” you sneer. You could feel your blood heating up, your hand tightening on Gareth’s.”Why did you kiss me in the theatre?” You take a step back as Eddie opens his mouth to speak and closes it again. “Tell me it wasn’t because you were in love with me and I’ll walk away right fucking now.” you sniffle.

“He didn’t love you, babe. He only kissed you b-back  b-because he f-f-felt bad for you. That’s what he told me” Chrissy hiccupped. Eddie looked at you, his eyes now freely flowing.

“Y/N… Please” Eddie begs. You laugh at him.

“Is that the truth Eddie? Is that how you really feel? Or is that what you told Chrissy to feel better about the fact that you kissed me, and you didn’t want to stop?” You spit.”Or was it what you told her to get in her pants without any punishment?”

“Please don’t do that” Eddie whispered. You start to back away with Gareth. Eddie tries to peel Chrissy’s arms off of his torso.

“I’m leaving right now Eddie and you have a choice to make. You can come with me and that will be enough of an explanation.” You stood strong and dropped your hand that was holding Gareth’s. He whispered your name softly. You turn to him and smile tightly to let him know that it was okay. You turn back to Eddie who stands still.

“Eddie, lets gooooo.” Chrissy whines.She began to pull his arm back towards the gym. His feet feel like they weigh a thousand pounds. He looks to you, completely heartbroken as your gaze hardens at the drunk prom queen hanging around his body. You chuckle as he lets Chrissy pull his body back towards the gym.

“Great. We’re done.”

You hear Eddie release a broken Sob as you grab Gareth’s hand and walk through the double doors.

Chrissy finally drags him back towards the bustling music and plastic tinsel of the gym. He felt like he could throw up. How could he just let you walk away?

Gareth opens his truck door open for you and helps you get seated in the passenger seat. He stands in between you and his truck door. He kissed your forehead and began to run his hand up and down your arm.

“Do you wanna go home, sweetheart?”

“You know what, a milkshake sounds really fucking great right now” you smile. Gareth laughs and you eventually join him.

“Milkshakes coming right up.”

Taglist:

@mxcheese , @anislabonis-love , @zenathebeautiful , h-ness1944 , @nymphetkoo , @tlclick73 , @darknesseddiem , @nega-omega , @them-cute-boys , @eggo-segual , @browneyes528 , @ali-r3n , @micheledawn1975 @partydulce @eddies-puppet , @elvendria , @itsjustwous , @littlemisslovestoread , @kjcmama , @chloe-6123 , @navs-bhat , @loveforreading , @thegirlthatsfalling , @r-a-d-i-0-n-0-w-h-e-r-e , @metalhead-succubus

#eddie munson angst #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson x chrissy cunningham #first fanfic #eddie munson series #eddie munson hurt/comfort #eddie munson brainrot #eddie munson ff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson friends to lovers #chrissy cunningam ff #hawkins high #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson slow burn #eddie munson edit #eddie munson edit #eddie munson best friend #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fics #eddie munson love story #eddie munson smut

[haechvn]

Dating Shuri Udaku Headcanons

Pairing: Shuri x F!Reader

Warning: Fluff, Toxic!Shuri, Angst and Smut since yall nasty asf

Summary/Request: I got so many requests for an update so here it is!

Word Count: 1k words

Author’s Note: I decided to make her mean since you hoes wanna be treated like shit or whatever. I'm getting back into my groove with this one for sure. 18+ MDNI fr or imma beat yall ass. NEED MORE SHURI GIFS WTH

Taglist: @inmyheadimobsessed @theblacksuccubus @melodykisses @blackhottie25 @tonakings @coalmistyy @szalipcombo @prettyluhlaiiii @yelenabelovasgf @callmeoncette @clqrosmgc @theblacksuccubus @cherios @shuris-whore @nut4shuri @gaspyghosttt @elliesdinosauar @idkhersposts @ziayamikaelson @trinthebean @sleepingnova @yunhofingers

Credits: @anitalenia for the super cute dividers get into itttt

Fluff 

Cooks breakfast for you every morning after the two of you have sweet and reckless nights together 

Loves getting the two of you matching sets of grillz. Gold, silver, diamond studded. It doesn't matter

Brings you alongside her for all of her council meetings as she truly values your opinion and wants you to be involved and know your role in leading the nation with her

Has a throne for you next to hers 

Trains you with the Dora because she doesn’t want what happened last time with Namor to ever repeat itself

Buys you whatever you want right off each and every runway during all the major Fashion Week shows

Always get the biggest section when y’all got out and you betta be shaking that ass cause she gon be throwing them bills babyyyy

The amount of decorated hotel rooms you get from her is ridiculoussss. She’ll decorate a whole hotel for you just because she loved seeing your smile in the morning.

Always has her hand in yours no matter what the two of you are doing. Even hold your hand while you two brush your teeth

Never breaks eye contact with you while the two of you are speaking

Has more that 100 nicknames for you

Toxic/Angsty 

Purposely starts arguments with you because it turns her on to see you riled up and she can’t stop thinking about you putting her back in her place

Used a bit too much of her strength on you during training and you had to stay in the hospital for a few nights. She locked herself in her room and couldn’t even stand to look at you when you were released. 

Sometimes she lacks empathy because she believes she’s gone through the worse shit. She definitely gaslights you sometimes and walks away if you complain to her about having family issues

“Wow. It’s so sad you argue with your mom everyday. Where’s mine? Oh yea right. I’m done listening”

Tries to deny that she felt anything for RiRi but will constantly talk about how beautiful she is just to get you jealous. You end up beating her ass bc wtf

One of those lesbians that doesn't like when you talk to other women bc why the fuck would you?

Will look you dead in the eyes and tell you that you aren’t more important than her work and you should just leave her alone and spend the money she gives you. She sent 2 mil to your account while you stormed out of the lab

She’ll deny you sex because she didn’t like the way you spoke to the Dora earlier that morning. You said hi 

She sometimes embarrassed by the lack of strength you have. Like tighten up tf

“Can you stop touching me? Even the Dora don’t smother me this much.”

Hates when you constantly run your hands through her hair like she didn’t just get it done

Kisses her teeth when you try to shake your ass and it doesn’t move the way she want it too

“Try harder maybe? Ugh just stop actually. You look cringe doing that” LIKE WHERE'S YOUR ASS MA'AM????

Smut

Shuri likes when you eat her pussy with her panther suit on. Yes. That part is cut out 

She has different grillz for eating your pussy and then ones for eating you ass— SHE A BOTTOMFEEDAAAA

Shuri loves pressing her kimoyo beads against your clit and sending intense vibrations there. Rose toy who???

She eats your pussy at night sometimes because if you look hard enough while she’s making your head spin, her inner bottom lip glows softly with her vibranium tattoo, being the only source of light in the room

LOVES WHEN YOU DRILL HER SHIT TO THE POINT THAT SHE CANT BREATHE AND TRIES TO GRASP AROUND BUT SHE CANT BC THE VIBRANIUM CUFFS TOO STRONG EVEN FOR HER SO SHE HAS TO BEG YOU TO RELEASE HER EVEN THOUGH SHE KNOWS YOU WON’T AHHH

Can literally eat you out for hours and against your (consented) will, she definitely does

RIDES YOU IN THE NASTIEST SLOPPIEST WAY LIKE SHE LOVES SEEING YALL CREAM MIX AND IS OBSESSED WITH HOW STICKY SHE IS AND HOW MUCH STICKIER YOU ARE UGH SHE PRESSES HER LIPS AGAINST YOUR AS IF SHE CAN GO INSIDE YOU BYEEEEEEE

SHE AINT NO FAKE GAY NO MA’AM

Wakes you up most mornings with her lips sucking and teasing your breast bc babe she can’t get enough

BOTTOM!SHURI LOVES WHEN YOU SIT ON THE THRONE AND SHE TRIES TO MAKE HERSELF CUM OVER AND OVER RIDING YOUR THIGH WHILE YOU SIT ON HER THRONE OH WOW

SHE WHINES SO MUCH AND IS NOT QUIET AT ALL. Constantly getting complaints from everyone in the palace

Likes getting her ass devoured. SORRY NOT SORRY 

Kissing you alone get her wetter than river Niger omgggg (I’m African and this how we say it PLS)

Constantly talking you through EVERYTHING she does to you

“You take my fingers so well”

“Hmm, you know I love when you squeeze around me like that. Fuck, do that again.” (THE WAY SHE ROLLS HER R’S UGHHH)

“Please, I can’t take it. I-I… Fuck you feel so good. Don’t stop fucking me, put me in my place”

Never breaks eye contact with you when she’s drilling the shit out of you 

LOVES WHEN YOU FUCK HER FACE WITH ALL THE STRAPS SHES MADE IN THE LAB

Literally she’ll be in the lab with her goggles on with all her tools scattered all of the table and gets wet picturing you standing over her and using her mouth like a toy OMG

Loves when you tie her up with pink and purple ribbons and stuff her mouth with your panties BYE

LIKES BEING BLINDFOLDED AND WEARING FLUFFY EARMUFFS SO YOU CAN DO ABSOLUTELY ANYTHING TO HER AND GIVING YOU FULL CONTROL

WHITE FLUFFY EARMUFFS WITH PINK RIBBONS AND HER CURLY HAIR SHAKING AROUND EVERY TIME SHE MOVES

#shuri is a eater #shuri is a munch #shuri is a real gay not like you fake bitches #shuri x reader #shuri smut #shuri fanfiction #shuri imagine #toxic!shuri #shuri udaku x reader #shuri x f!reader #black panther x reader #shuri x fem!reader #shuri angst #shuri fluff #toxic!shuri x reader #princess shuri smut #shuri black panther #black panther imagine #black panther smut #marvel smut #princess shuri #shuri udaku #shuri x y/n #black panther angst #mcu imagine

[bits-and-babs]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐆 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐀𝐑 || 𝐉𝐎𝐄𝐋 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

summary: When Ellie is taken by David, Joel breaks open the part of him locked away since his hunter days. As the guilt eats him alive, you try to help him subdue the black dogs of mental warfare.

word count: 4.1k

warnings: Very 18+. It’s giving morally-grey Joel. Depiction of gore, violence, mentions of cannibalism, mentions of David that is a warning in itself. Very vague insinuation of SA as shown in the game. Discontent for Christianity (don’t like, don’t read my dude). Angst, guilt. Hurt-comfort. P in v sex, unprotected sex.

authors note: This got so dark it actually caught me off guard! I am so incredibly proud of this piece. I started it 5 whole weeks ago, and spent up until the night of posting (March 5th) editing and retouching. I hope it does Winter, my favourite part of the game, proud.

tease: “I jus’ need to be close to you.”

Continuous dripping sounds from the radiator, drip, drip, drip. Globs of blood seep down the grooves of the heater, falling when the droplets reach the edge and settling in a pool of coagulated gore. A headless body leans left, slumping against the metal the handcuffs chain it to. What’s left of its skull plasters the walls, the ceiling, and the steel pipe discarded in its lap.

Another lifeless body lays strewn sideways, the chair it’s tied to thrown haphazardly across the floor. Its neck is angled awkwardly; its eyes rolled back so only the whites show.

When you manage to tear your eyes away from the carnage, you can still hear the panicked shouts of the captives before Joel slaughtered them, rattling inside the cavern of your skull. Joel’s callous answer rings in your ears.

“Fuck you, man. He told you what you wanted. I ain't telling you shit!”

“That’s alright. I believe him.”

Snowflakes stick to the window of the home Joel had appropriated as a slaughterhouse, the wooden planks weathered and falling apart after years of neglect. The cold creeps in through the holes in the ceiling and the gaps in the wood, but you find yourself doubting the chill responsible for the goosebumps littering your arms.

Inhaling slowly, you will yourself to speak, but the words die in your throat before they even form on your lips, melting away on your tongue. Your pleas for reason would fall on deaf ears, and you know it—Joel’s far beyond reasoning with.

He’s pacing up and down the room, the floorboards creaking under the weight of his boots as he studies the map gripped between his imbrued knuckles. It’s unlike him, you note, to be so rattled. In the years you’ve known Joel, his steadfast resolution had been comforting, a certain. Not now. The men he’d butchered had mentioned details you could only describe as buzzwords that had Joel’s survivor alarm bells ringing.

David’s newest pet. The Town. Cannibals.

Heaving breaths he expels from his lungs vaporise in the air, still catching his breath from pummelling radiator-man’s brains out. If you couldn’t hear the wheezing in his chest from his laboured respiration, you could damn well see it.

Stepping forward, you wince when the floorboard beneath you creaks. “Joel—“

“They got Ellie, Darlin’,” your partner leaps into an eerily calm rundown of the dire situation despite you having been in the room for the entire interrogation. “They got Ellie, an’ they’re gonna kill her.”

Nodding slowly, you reach across the small distance between you to hold onto Joel’s bicep. Blood splatters the fabric of his brown winter coat, and you can feel his body heat radiating beneath the layers of cloth as his body fights infection. The gaping wounds in his back and stomach from the protruding rebar he was impaled on, thanks to a scuffle with a looter at the university, have stopped weeping puss. However, Joel was still largely incapacitated by the pain — despite the feral display of resilience against these two bandits.

“I know—” you try to ease him, but Joel’s buzzing with adrenaline.

“I gotta go get her; you can’t stop me doin’ this, Darlin’ I have’ta-“

“I know,” you speak firmly, and Joel stops dead in his tracks, clearly not having expected you to green-light his suicide mission, “I know I can’t stop you, which is why I insist upon going with you.”

You expect Joel to make a scene, to lose his temper and tell you that you weren't going anywhere, that it was far too dangerous and losing either of you would crush him. You know about Tess; Ellie told you everything when you joined them in Pittsburgh. She detailed Joel's heartache, despite his desperate attempts to appear indifferent. It's times like these that you can't blame him for being overprotective, knowing he had lost so much.

However, your expectations are not met. Joel looks at you, the whites of his eyes tinted red, and the skin beneath shadowed dark with exhaustion. He nods slowly, evidently realising he cannot compete with an army of cannibal bandits single-handedly with the state he’s in. He surrenders.

Wordlessly, Joel grabs your backpack and begins to sift through the items within. Apparently, he decides you don't have enough ammo, sacrificing his El Diablo pistol and offering it to you.

You accept it without fuss, knowing damn well that leaving with him is out of his comfort zone. Making a scene would make him change his mind.

It doesn't take long for Joel to spread out your limited supplies. Within five minutes, he's lifting his heavy backpack onto his shoulders with an agonised groan. You move out silently, Joel holding the door open for you as you step out into the blizzard.

You hear the frozen grass and layers of snow crunch beneath the rubber soles of Joel’s boots. You set your whole life to the pace of each of his steps, a monotonous metronome. Sometimes, on hot days in the summer, you can smell the rubber melting on the tarmac if you stand still for too long.

It’s bizarre, especially as he guides you into a death trap with an unknown sum of threats, but you find yourself thinking you’d be happy for him to lead you anywhere.

-✩-

Snowflakes cling to your eyelashes, eyes weeping from the cold and freezing the coarse hairs together. It's so cold that you’re convinced that the tears that develop as a result of the stinging cold freeze before they can drip down your cheeks.

Even without the natural eyelash glue, it's hard to see Joel ahead of you in the chaos of the bandit’s town. The blizzard has intensified, casting a light grey fuzzy haze over what you can see— or rather, what you can't. You're not even sure that the shadowy figure in front of you is Joel, but you're too afraid to ask in case a stranger turns around and shoots you in the stomach.

When you and Joel arrived, it was pandemonium already, armed bandits practically running into you as they attempted to reach their battle stations. The whistling of the wind muffles gunshots, and the bell from the church tower rings deafeningly loud across the snow plains in warning. What exactly had happened, you are unsure, but what you do know is that the cracking of the bronze bell will draw in runners from miles away.

You had to find Ellie. Quickly.

"You all right?" Joel calls out above the din, his Texan accent a welcome relief. It takes you a second to find your voice, the cold having momentarily stolen it.

"Yeah!" You shout back, trembling fingers grasping tightly to your gun.

There is a roaring sound on the wind, rising in volume as you continue to trudge blindly through the snow. The gunshots are more frequent now, yet still too far away to be a threat to you. You wonder if Ellie is raising hell or if the infected have already arrived. Neither scenario was good.

An orange glow peers through the blanket of falling snow that distorts your vision. You'd noticed the flaming barrels as you wandered through the town, but this was different. It was huge. The closer you got to it, the clearer the sound met your ears. It was crackling, wood-burning and billowing acrid black smoke.

Joel whistles, the pitchy sound catching your attention over the deafening thunder of the fire. You can't see his expression, but you can vaguely make out his silhouette pointing toward the building swallowed by flames. You were going in.

One step forward and the blaze is singeing your freezing skin, burning the peach fuzz on your face. You swear you can smell your eyebrows smoking, the flames so strong that you're almost scared to step into the building.

Despite your concerns for the integrity of the structure, Joel is quick to pursue the only lead he has to Ellie. He feels blindly all along the entrance, hissing as his palms come into contact with red-hot glass panes. It's a wooden door inset by small rectangular windows. The frame is deep brown and littered with orange, glowing embers embedded within the grain. You're scared, and open your mouth to dissuade Joel from doing anything rash. He doesn't give you the opportunity.

His shoulder slams into the weakened, charred door without hesitation, the windows falling from their frames and shattering on the wooden floor. The blazing heat inside the building wafts over you, causing sweat to bead at your brow.

Desperate, Joel pushes through and stumbles into the building, which you now discover is a diner. The smoke burns your lungs, and your eyes sting so much that you're almost blinded by the tears prickling your waterline. The dark grey clouds are so thick that you're suffocating, unable to take in any oxygen. Had it not been for the noises piercing through the terrifying roar of the fire, you would have aborted the entrance in fear of asphyxiation.

High-pitched grunts of exertion and the sound of metal slamming into wood catch Joel's attention. He looks up, alarmed by the noise and yet scrambles towards it despite the danger.

"Ellie!" Joel shouts out, running on adrenaline as he rushes forward. You let out a sob of relief, knowing that Joel has eyes on her, but the consolation doesn't last long.

When you catch sight of her, you find Ellie in a blind rage. Her bloodied hands hold onto a machete handle with a white-knuckled grip, raising the weapon above her head and bringing it down into the mess of the fractured skull and smashed brains of the body below her. Blood sprays across her face with the sheer force with which she plunges the blade into the meaty mess, tears of fury leaving tracks in the crimson on her cheeks.

"Stop! Stop," Joel wraps his forearms around Ellie’s chest, dragging her away from the mutilated body to a chorus of devastatingly broken ‘no's’. Ellie screams, fighting Joel’s grip and clawing at his arms in an attempt to free herself.

"Don't fucking touch me!" She sobs as Joel hushes her, wrapping his arms around her body and holding her to his chest in a desperate attempt to prove to Ellie that she is safe. He sets her in front of him, forcing the broken young girl to look at him and recognise him.

"It's me," he speaks firmly, trying to access the rational part of her brain as he holds her still, his palms settling on her bloodied cheeks and inevitably smearing the ruddy liquid across her skin. "Look, look. It’s me."

Her tearful gaze settles on Joel, still in a panic as she searches his face. It takes her a moment, but relief swallows her expression and she practically falls into Joel's embrace.

“Oh,” she sobs out, eyes falling to the blood-streaked floor as the shock kicks in, “He tried to-“

“Oh, Baby Girl…” He murmurs brokenly, clinging to her as though he feared the world would snatch her from him again if he didn’t hold her in a vice-like grip. “It’s okay. It’s okay….”

“Joel…” Ellie sobs, burying her face into his chest and soaking his already bloodied clothes with yet more gore and tears. Joel presses his head to hers, repeatedly murmuring that it was okay, that he had her.

As Joel speaks to Ellie, you allow them this delicate moment of solitude. Of course, you were part of this family, but the bond Ellie and Joel shared far outweighed anything you could offer. A found father-daughter relationship that filled the holes in each other's hearts. It wasn’t your place to intrude.

Casting your teary eyes to the ceiling, you catch sight of a rudimentary hanging sign made from a white mattress topper. Scrawled upon it in mostly black paint, the lettering bulky, and only one word is written in scarlet.

“WHEN WE ARE IN NEED, HE SHALL PROVIDE!”

Bile rises in your throat as you take in the quote reminiscent of bible scripture. It turns your stomach, knowing what this man would have done, what the town no doubt did do to others, all while justifying it with thinly veiled Jesus worship.

It was an odd realisation, one that left you feeling quite numb as Joel helped Ellie from her knees. The comprehension that for the past 20 years, humanity had been coming together to fight the Cordyceps virus in the hope of removing the scourge and returning to normal life. Instead, the happenings in the diner, in this town, proved that the Cordyceps virus had little impact on the real plight.

That humans, people, are the true sickness.

-✩-

You are fearful at first that Ellie wouldn't be able to sleep after the trauma of her ordeal. She had, at first, been delicate on the journey back to the cabin that Joel had been recuperating in since his accident. Exhibiting signs of shellshock, she refused to elaborate on anything she had seen or heard during her captivity, and both you and Joel decided it best to leave her to unpick her thoughts in her own time.

The brass bells in the cannibal town had drawn the attention of a ginormous pack of runners, and you were scared that Ellie would be unable to find it in her to fight for her life.

However, as Ellie often did, she proved you wrong. Perhaps that is why she retreated to a dream world the moment her head touched the pillow. The sound of her steady breathing is the only noise permeating the silence that had settled in the cabin basement.

Joel retreats into the shadows when Ellie finds sleep. Leaning his back against the rough brick wall, he groans in agony as he sinks into a half-comfortable position. You watch him settle, eyebrows pinching together as you witness him fall back into the blackest corners of his mind.

You hesitate. You've only ever seen Joel like this once, distraught by the deaths of Henry and Sam after barely reaching freedom beyond the Pittsburgh Bridge. He had withdrawn into himself for weeks, the guilt eating him alive despite not belonging to any of you.

The black dog of mental warfare was a friend you knew Joel had come to know well. Before Sam and Henry, there was Tess, his hunter days, and of course, Sarah. Each time, the darkness would require him to carry a heavy burden of culpability despite his lack of fault.

"I'm glad," Joel's gruff voice cuts through the silence. He sounds broken, battling an insidious infection that you can't see. Similar to the Cordyceps virus, it encroaches on his mind, turning it against him. “I'm glad she killed him."

Again, you withhold your innermost thoughts as Joel battles to admit his feelings. He looks up at you, resting against the opposite wall. His expression is cold, but his eyes reflect a tragic pain within him.

“I’m relieved she killed him. Because I dunno what I would’a done.”

The black dog has returned, settled at Joel’s feet, and with it the guilt lands in his lap.

"Joel," you whisper, rising to your feet and approaching your crestfallen partner with delicate steps, "It’s not your fault."

Shaking his head Joel refuses to acknowledge your exoneration, beginning to launch into a tirade of self-hatred. "No. No, if I'd‘ve-"

You interrupt him, a firmness quite unlike you seeping into each syllable. "It's not your fault."

This time it appears to strike home, Joel slowly nodding his head in acceptance as you sink to the floor with him, resting your head on his shoulder as you settle beside him for warmth. The following silence isn't as emotionally charged. Joel appears to find comfort in your embrace. The black dog slinks out of the room through the crack in the open door.

You gently press kisses to the soft expanse of skin peeking from underneath Joel’s collar. It's a comfort, one that you regularly award Joel before sleep. He tilts his head in the opposite direction, offering you further access to the skin layering his jugular.

Without question, you continue to pepper his skin with endearment. He wasn't one to regularly ask for it, so you took this as a sign that Joel required some tenderness right now.

"’m sorry," he mumbles, embarrassed by his needy behaviour, “'m just-“

"You don't have to explain anything," you whisper, the curve of your lips dragging against his pulse point as you speak to him. He hums deep and low, eyes slipping shut as you continue your ministrations.

Achingly slowly, you drag lips across his jugular, pressing kisses to spots on his neck that you know are reactive. The soft valley behind his ear, the curve of his jaw, the junction between his neck and his shoulder. They all receive your affection, and you begin to hear Joel's breathing labour ever so slightly.

Joel’s infectious fever bleeds into something akin to fervour, his ribcage rising and falling with heavier, unsteadier breaths. His eyelids flutter closed, the searing, sour pain blending with the pleasure that sparks in him when your lips brush over his pulse point.

“Darlin’-“ He whispers, and it’s utterly broken. Pitchy and cracking in his throat when your fingertips work at his shirt buttons to expose more of his clavicle. His hands are settling on your hips as you swing your thigh over his lap slowly, thumb pads sweeping over your hip bones in delicate patterns.

“What is it you need from me, Joel?” You murmur softly, nose nudging at the bottom of his throat, at the v where his collar bones meet.

“F-Fuck,” he chokes, eyes cast skyward as he attempts to piece the broken pieces of his mind back together and find an answer. “I jus’ need to be close to you.”

He thought he’d lost Ellie. Thought he’d find her strung up with pieces of her flesh scattered about an unsanitary butcher's room. No doubt his mind was spinning with all the possibilities. What if you’d been shot trying to get her back?

Joel needed to be confident you were alive. Needed to feel your pulse thrumming against his palm.

“I can do that,” you promise him gently. You never pledged anything to Joel; nothing was certain. However, right now, you could offer your word. Could swear to ease his trepidation.

“I’m here.” Your words are spoken with conviction, his head nodding slightly as you take his wrist in your hand. “You can feel it. Come here.”

Delicately, you lay his bloodied, trembling hand across your chest. He lets out a quivering breath through his nose when he feels the thump of your heart against the lifeline of his palm.

Your free hand settles on the brass button holding his jeans together, popping it open and exposing the trail of dark, greying hairs that trail down his naval. His eyes flicker to your own, chapped lips parting slightly as you pinch the zipper and drag it down with a quiet ‘zzzp’.

The thud against his palm picks up the momentum as you feel him harden beneath the denim of your jeans, and you catch his lips pull up. A short, single scoff of disbelief- relief- as you gently work the jeans down and over his hips.

“Does this old man really do it for you that much?” He whispers, his fingerprints teasing the stitches of your collar. Your flannel is worn, threadbare and velvet soft, and your skin is burning hot beneath. “Even greyin’ and broken like I am?”

“Joel,” you whisper, pressing a delicate, lengthy kiss to his forehead, between his eyebrows. Fumbling with your cargo pants, you have them over your ass in no time, dragging your panties along with them. “You are the only man alive that makes me feel this way.” Your lips brush against the creases on his brow; frown lines etched deep into his skin after years of misery.

“Mhm,” his rich, oak eyes drag down your form as he watches you undress and expose your soaked cunt, thighs glistening wet in the low lighting. “That ain’t hard when most of the population died out.”

“Joel,” you repeat with a less-tempered tone, nose nudging at his hairline as you wrap your fingers around his length. He grunts quietly, careful to smother any loud noises to avoid drawing Ellie’s attention. “There wasn’t anyone before outbreak day, either.”

“Not even that actor-… What was his name, George Cloo-oh fuck,” his stupid joke dies on the tip of his tongue when you slowly sink down onto the head of his cock, walls fluttering around the stretch of him. His voice is hoarse, whisper breaking into silence as he slowly pushes the crown of his head into the terracotta brick walls.

“No,” you chuckle softly, watching him struggle for logical thought as you take more of him, and slip him further in. “No, not even him.”

Joel grunts, digging his teeth into his lower lip as you take him to the hilt. He nudges your cervix in this position, the sensation almost like a mild bruise, but you love it. Love that it will match the hickeys he leaves on your shoulders- marking you inside and out. Claiming you as his, Death and His black dog be damned.

“Oh C-Christ,” he lilts, and it sounds like a whimper as you squeeze around him, “I can feel it. Can feel your pulse-“

“See? I told you I’m alive,” You muse, wrapping your fingers around his wrist as you slowly begin to grind your hips forward in a circle. Joel just nods dumbly, his previously pale cheeks flushed slightly.

No bouncing, no thrusts. Joel is too fragile, his immune system fighting a nuclear war inside of him as his white blood cells try to secure the perimeter of the wound in his abdomen. You focus on rolling your hips instead, slowly inching off his cock and sinking back down onto his velvety length.

“Hoh- uhng, fuck-“ his illegible groans make your heart batter his meta-carpel bones, compelling him to acknowledge your vital signs and their optimal function.

He’s twitching inside you, the slow rise and fall of your hips forcing him to feel you stretch around each ridge and pulsing vein of his cock. Joel looks like he could break down, the sensation of his building orgasm such an overwhelming sensation in his already exhausted body.

Pushing your fingers through his soft curls, you clasp the back of his skull and lean forward to hold his face to your chest. He can hear it loud and clear now, the shell of his ear cupping the cavity of your chest where your heart batters against his cheekbone. His arms wrap around your waist, squeezing you as tight as his septic-fatigued muscles can hold you.

It doesn’t take much for you to work yourself into your own fever. Joel’s cock always manages to find that spark inside you, nudging it and coaxing your orgasm to bloom between your thighs.

“M’gonna cum,” he rasps against your chest, his hot breath fanning across your skin. Joel’s pressing sloppy, clumsy kisses there, exhaling heavily with each roll of your hips.

“Mhmm-“ you muffle your cry by biting your knuckles, focusing on the clench of your walls and the buzz of your orgasm surging up through you. It’s like a whirlpool, pulling you under and drowning you in the wave of bliss that overtakes you.

Joel’s follows almost immediately after, his whole body tending despite the pain as it pulses through him, his cum painting your insides. His hips stutter, burying deep within you and letting out a ragged breath of relief that edges into a moan of your name.

Passing carbon dioxide between you, your foreheads press together as your breath fans over each other's faces. His eyelashes flutter with exhaustion, and you can feel them tickle the peak of your cheekbones. It’s so tender, so unlike Joel.

“I won’t let him take you.” His voice is so quiet the words almost don’t form, just barely leaving his throat in a sigh. His hand, not having left its rooted spot above your left breast, slowly inches towards your throat. You feel his index finger prod at your pulse, sealing his conviction that you are safe.

In honesty, you’re unsure who he means. Death, probably. David is long gone, but Joel’s fever is tipping him closer to delirium than reality.

One thing was for certain; you had managed to stave off the Black Dog for now. It lay at the doorway, stuck beyond the threshold it was forbidden to pass over, waiting until Joel allowed it back inside.

END

@hoeneey @howaboutcastiel @welcometostayingawake @syrma-sensei @ethanhoewke @foxilayde @bookfrog242 @wh0reforbucknasty @zakizigekwe @ahookedheroespureheart @buckys-other-punk @anxious-sappho @alexloveskili @captainrexstan @knights-power @southcrnbelle @niallsbunny @hold-our-destiny @vermillionwinter @stormkobra-5 @erenbissexual @alwritey-aphrodite @maggotzombie @deadpige0n @bakerstreethound @whatthehekko @cottagebunny9 @bit-dodgy-innit @peachyproserpina @pedrosprincess @inklore

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#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller one shot #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller the last of us #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #joel miller oneshot #joel miller tlou #tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou smut #the last of us #the last of us smut #ellie williams #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x you #david tlou #1k+ club

[judeswhore]

don’t call me baby - jude bellingham

summary: jude isn’t happy you brought a date to the monthly hangout and jealousy gets the better of him

pairing: situationship!jude x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, minors dni, fingering, choking

notes: you can find my masterlist here. kinda based on this ask that i got

"ow, what're you doing? get off." jude clicked his tongue at your tone and the way you yanked your arm from his grip, pushed you lightly through the bathroom door. he locked it behind you, leant up against it with a deep frown. you hated him for looking so hot when he was clearly pissed off at you. you matched his glare with one of your own. "what do you want?"

"you brought a date?" it was mostly an amused scoff but you heard the hard edge of annoyance in the last word, a stab of victory flaring inside of you. you folded your arms and leant back against the bathroom counter, the few feet between you suddenly feeling like miles. your skin felt hot under his gaze, need blooming deep in your chest because it had been at least two weeks since he'd last touched you and as much as you hated it, you craved the feeling of him.

"he's not my date."

"he know that?" you narrowed your eyes at the boy in front of you before lowering your gaze, picking at your nails in a disinterested manner. your heart thudded because he'd stepped a little closer and you could smell the faint scent of his aftershave. it was your favourite, the one he told you once he only wore because he knew you liked it and knowing he'd chosen to wear it tonight made you just a little giddy.

"probably," you shrugged. "who cares, i'll be going home with him whether he's my date or not." you wouldn't be but jude didn't need to know that. you wanted to rile him up enough that he'd break the two week drought you'd been in. you knew it was working when his jaw clenched, nostrils flaring just a little. his brows dug a deeper groove in his forehead and he took another step towards you. his white shirt was open at the top and the tiny slither of skin almost had you drooling.

"oh really?"

"mhm, he promised he'd take care of me." jude's eyes flashed and then suddenly he was directly in front of you, both hands on the counter by your hips to block you in. he'd clocked the underlying meaning to your words and you knew he wasn't happy, the glare on his face making you ache, thighs pressing together in an attempt to dull the feeling. the scent of his aftershave again wrapped around you, made you want to press your face into his neck and breathe him in.

"did he now? what exactly did he promise he'd do, babe?" his head dipped and for the first time in two weeks his lips were on your skin. he brushed them lightly over your jaw, grinned when you shivered against him and your head tipped back just slightly. his touch was too light, his chest too far away. you wanted him against you, wanted to feel the heat of his skin, to feel his fingers grip you so hard there were guaranteed to be bruises left behind. "he promise he'd fuck you?"

"i don't really think it's any of your business." your voice shook just a little because he'd sunk his teeth softly into the sweet spot below your ear, soothed his tongue over the mark only a second later. everything beyond the bathroom door faded away, it was just the two of you, still stuck in this dangerous dance. you needed him to touch you properly, to get it over with because the ache was so intense you almost wanted to cry. hands balled into fists, you refused to touch him first, willed him with your mind to press his hand beneath your skirt.

"is that a no then?" he made a noise of faux sympathy, lifted his head from the crook of your neck and met your gaze again. a hand lifted from the counter and he brushed his knuckles softly over your jaw, the gesture far too adoring for the relationship the two of you had. you tried not to lean into him, swallowed thickly when he thumbed at your bottom lip. "how long's it been?"

"hm?" you couldn't think straight, his hips were flush to yours and you could feel his cock, hard and heavy pressing against you. his fingers danced across your throat, tickled over your collarbone but he kept his eyes fixed on yours, even when they grazed the swell of your boob in the low cut top you'd chosen to wear.

"how long's it been since someone fucked you?" he wasn't asking out of innocent curiosity, what he really wanted to know was if he had been the last person to fuck you. instead of answering you gave him a half shrug. "well you're looking at me like you want me to take you right now so i'm guessing it's been a while." his lips tilted into a smug smirk, his hand finding it's way over your side and down your thigh until he could tug at the hem of your skirt. "tell me you want it."

you stared at him in silence for a few seconds, brows drawn in together, pussy wet and throbbing from how close he was to touching you. his fingers were toying with the lace of your underwear, slipping beneath it to smooth over your skin. he shifted his hips to grind his dick against you and your breath hitched, annoyance and lust tangling together. you were hypersensitive to his touch, to his fingers and the way his lips were hovering over your jaw, his breath washing hot across your skin.

"or do you wanna go home with someone you know can't make you feel as good as i can?" he was so cocky you wanted to punch him but a stronger part of you wanted to kiss him, to shift his hand over just a few inches and let him ruin you. the second part of you won.

"god, you're so fucking full of yourself." your arms were suddenly around his neck, one hand against the back of his head to tug him towards you and the second your lips landed on his it was over. his mouth covered yours in a heated kiss, a sigh of relief catching in your throat. jude pressed a hand against your back, pulled you closer to him as he rocked his hips towards you, his other hand still dangerously close to your pussy.

the kiss turned harsher, the desperate drags of his tongue over yours making it hard to think, even more so when he nipped at your bottom lip. with his foot he knocked your feet a little further apart, pressed you harder into the counter with a low groan. he still wasn't touching you and it was driving you insane, your hips wriggling against him.

"jude."

"tell me what you want."

"you know what i want." his mouth was on your neck, teeth and tongue teasing across your skin until you were whining, all composure out of the window. one of your hands reached for his, fingers wrapping around his wrist to guide him between your legs. he pressed his palm flat over your underwear and let you grind yourself over him.

"tell me or i'll stop."

"why're you being so difficult?"

"if you wanted it that bad you'd just tell me." you rocked into his palm, the constant bump against your clit making your head spin but it still wasn't enough. jude sucked a mark against your jaw. "c'mon, use your words like we talked about." before jude you would never be demanding during sex, would never ask for what you wanted but with him it was different. he wanted you to ask. he wanted you to tell him exactly what you needed from him.

"i want you to make me cum."

"yeah? how?" you pouted despite the fact he wasn't looking at you and pressed a little harder against his palm. your underwear was in the way and the pleasure going to your clit wasn't enough, you needed more of him.

"your fingers. please, jude. want you to finger me." your cheeks burned, half in embarrassment, half in need and jude made a soft sound, kissed his way back to your mouth and offered you a grin.

"what would greg think if he heard you like this?" he slipped his hand into your underwear and the second his middle finger found your clit you went weak against the counter. he circled it slowly.

"his name's george."

"i really don't care." he was kissing you once more, brushing his fingers through your folds before pressing over your clit again. it was humiliating how worked up you already were when he hadn’t really done anything. the slick sounds between your thighs had jude groaning into your mouth. “you’re fucking soaked, babe.”

you thought he was going to draw it out, make you work for it considering how annoyed he’d first seemed but he surprised you when he circled the tip of his finger around your slick hole. he teased it inside, pulled out and went back to your clit, rubbed soft circles over it with the pads of his fingers. your head fell back and his lips were on your throat in an instant, sucking and biting at every bit of skin he could reach, his fingers swiping over you just a little bit faster.

when he finally sunk his fingers into you, your entire body tensed, walls wrapping snug around the two digits and sucking them back in. jude hummed against your skin, let his mouth travel down your chest and across the swell of your boobs. his fingers twisted inside you and he bit down, had you whimpering his name as he marked you with his teeth. his pace started slow and steady, fingers hooking to press against that spongy spot that made your back arch and your legs quiver. your nails dug into the back of his neck and he hissed at the pain.

somewhere in the back of your mind you were aware your friends were all downstairs and had probably realised the two of you had disappeared together. it was no secret to them that the two of you had something going on, they’d caught you on more than a couple of occasions but you’d promised this time was different. you’d sworn there would be no going back to him, george was supposed to be proof of that.

george.

the boy you’d brought along was still downstairs, most definitely wondering where you were and although you should feel bad about that you couldn’t bring yourself to. instead you rocked against jude’s fingers, clenched around them when he scissored them slightly. his thumb was on your clit, pressing over it in messy circles, pushing you further and further towards the edge. you were so wet you could feel it dripping from you, making a mess of your thighs and underwear, stickying jude’s wrist.

“that’s it, fuck, can feel how tight you are, wish i was fucking you with my cock instead .” his mouth found yours again and he kissed you a little harsher than before, slowed the thrusts of his fingers as he switched his angle and pressed them a little deeper. your head felt thick with desperation and you couldn’t bite back the loud moan when the fingers of his other hand curled around your throat. he squeezed the sides lightly, let his mouth hover over yours as he watched your reaction.

“think you can handle another?” for a second you weren’t sure what he was referring to but then he stroked his fingers against your slick walls, smirked and you understand. you were quick to nod, rolling your hips forward again. your tummy burned and your clit throbbed, your orgasm fizzling low inside of you. “good girl.”

his third finger was quick to join the other two, the stretch making you whine and cling to him, pussy clamping down so tight jude gave a low groan of pleasure. his cock was hard in his jeans and he had no issues grinding against you to get some relief. he crooked his fingers and picked up his pace, fucked you so hard tears started to fill your lash line. the sounds were obscene, loud and echoey in the bathroom, your moans and the slick wetness of your cunt fighting for dominance over what could be louder.

jude upped the pressure around your throat, kissed softly at your bottom lip before pressing his forehead to yours. he was so close he was swallowing all the pants and moans you were letting loose, your noises only spurring him on until he was fucking you at such a brutal pace your knees threatened to give out. you clung to his biceps for support, nails digging deep into the muscles they were sure to leave behind marks. the pads of his fingers repeatedly assaulted the most sensitive spot inside of you, each pass against it making you even wetter.

“tell me you missed me, baby.” the term of endearment dripped from his lips in a tone you’d never heard before, soft and adoring, loving like it never had been. it had you whimpering, head shaking as your walls started go spasm around him.

“don’t call me that.” jude blinked and then scoffed, twisted his wrist harshly and bumped your clit. the action was a little mean and you half sobbed in reply, teetering so close to the edge it was almost painful. he squeezed again at your throat, tipped your head back a little and sucked at your jaw again. you knew you were gonna be covered in marks from his hands and his lips but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“y’don’t want me to call you baby but you wanna fuck yourself on my fingers?” you managed a weak glare in response and shut him up with a scathing kiss. he rocked his fingers faster, stretched you open even further with them as you started to gush around them, your orgasm right in front of you. jude knew it too and he pulled back with a slow grin, released your throat so he could wrap the material of your skirt on his fist and lift it.

he made sure your pussy was on display for him, soaked and puffy, tight hole stretched around his fingers and gripping them so tight. he angled his wrist so each time he fucked into you his palm rubbed over your clit, his actions rough and messy the way he knew you liked. his smirk doubled when your thighs started to shake and your moans got increasingly higher in pitch, walls fluttering around his fingers as you tried to suck him back in.

“there it is, c’mon, pretty girl, give it to me. wanna feel you cum. you’re doing so well, taking it like a champ, babe, gonna fuck you later, yeah? cause you’ve been so good f’me.” jude’s words made you light headed, made you ache with the need for release as he kept up the brutal pace. he fucked your hole as you leaked over your wrist, tears spilling over your cheeks from how good his palm felt over clit.

“jude,”

“shh, s’okay, i’ve got you. let it go. c’mon, soak my fingers, want everyone downstairs to know what i’m doing to you.” he let go of your skirt and slipped his hand around the back of your neck, brought you in for a desperate kiss and the second his lips met yours you were letting go.

you came around his fingers with a muffled cry, your release making a mess of his hand, dripping down your thighs as he fingered you through it. he shifted so he could rub soft circled over your clit to drag out the aftershocks, his fingers buried knuckle deep inside of you. he kept them there, stroked your swollen walls until you were shaking your head and clamping your thighs shut.

you pulled your lips from his, blinked heavily at him as he withdrew his fingers, sticky with your cum and brought them up to your mouth. you wrapped your lips around them obediently, sucked and swirled your tongue until they were clean. jude gave a quiet moan, went in for another kiss as soon as you let the three digits go. it was messy and a little lazy, slow drags of his tongue over yours.

you’re not sure how long you stayed like that, his body pressing yours into the counter, your mouths moving in slow tandem, his hand on your hip brushed soothing circles with his thumb. it was intimate, more intimate than coming on his fingers and you knew something had shifted between you. a sudden knock on the bathroom door broke you apart, had you shoving at jude’s chest and straightening out your clothes.

“if you two are done fucking, george is looking for you.” your best friends voice was laced with amusement, a stark contrast to jude’s expression when you met his gaze. his eyes were dark, brows drawn together, a twisted look on annoyance around his mouth. his voice was rough when he spoke.

“why don’t you go be a good girl and tell george you’re leaving early? i’ll get us an uber.” he didn’t have to ask if you were going home with him, it was a given after what had just happened. and it was sad, really, how quickly you'd ruin something good for the smallest chance jude might finally decide he wants you completely.

#jude bellingham #situationship!jude #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham blurb

[roosterforme]

Gonna Make You Sweat | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley is determined to get back in peak physical condition, but you are more of a distraction than he anticipated.

Warnings: Fluff and smut

Length: 2000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots! (But it can be read on its own) Check my masterlist in my profile for the reading order!

Bradley had finally graduated from physical therapy, and while he had regained full use of his left arm, the scarring was still very much present. He hated the way it looked, but there wasn't much he could do about it. 

But what he could do, was get himself back in top shape before he married you. His physical therapist had given him the green light to work out as much as he wanted to, and he decided to buy a weight bench for the garage. 

"We don't really even use the garage, and this way we can have a home gym," he told you as he ordered everything online from his spot on the couch. 

You climbed into his lap and took his phone out of his hand. "Promise me you aren't doing this because you think you need to, Bradley. You're very physically healthy already. You go for a run most days, and I feed you very well."

Bradley examined your face. "Don't you miss my abs, Baby Girl?"

You just shrugged against his chest and ran your fingers under his shirt and across his belly button. "They were nice. This is nice, too. And I'm going to absolutely love it when you have a dad bod someday," you said, biting your lip and moaning. 

Just hearing you say the word dad had his dick signaling that it was time to be inside you, and that moan had him pushing you down onto the couch. 

"A dad bod, you say? As soon as you want that to happen, you just let me know, Sweetheart," he said, yanking your shorts off as you stroked him through his jeans. You giggled as he kissed your engagement ring and slid inside you. 

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

The gym arrived two weeks before Labor Day in what seemed like a million delivery boxes filled with pieces that needed to be assembled. Bradley coaxed you out to the garage one evening after work to help him put it together, but you weren't much help at all.

"Let's go to bed," you whined over and over again, crawling into his lap where he sat on the floor. "I like your body the way it is. You don't even need a gym."

He just chuckled, wrapping his arms around you. "Well, I just spent thousands of dollars on it, so it's staying. Need to look good for our wedding," he said, kissing your hair. "Besides, Jake has been acting weird, and everyone thinks he has a new girlfriend. I want to look better than him again so you can gloat to his girl next time we go to the beach."

You rolled your eyes so hard, Bradley had to laugh. "If Jake was seeing someone, I would know about it."

Bradley narrowed his eyes. "How?"

"Because we have girl talk all the time," you said as you nestled against his neck and rubbed your hand on his belly.

"You and Jake... have girl talk?"

"Yeah, he tells me stuff that happens and I let him know how he fucked up. I'd like to say I'm his guru," you said seriously, making Bradley laugh. 

"Well he certainly needs one. Help me put the last part together so we can go to bed," he said with a yawn. 

When he stepped back and inspected it, everything looked perfect. And when he started using it the following day, he was happy with his purchase. In fact, he ended up in the garage for an hour every night after he finished cleaning the kitchen from your dinner preparations. 

He'd been listening to the gym playlist you made for him and really getting back into the groove of things. His arm was giving him no pain now, and he was working himself slowly up to heavier weights.

"Looking sexy, Roo," you told him when you poked your head in, raking your gaze over his body. "All hot and sweaty."

Bradley sat up on the bench and patted his thigh with his gloved hand. "Wanna join me while I take a little break," he asked you innocently. 

Your lips parted and your nostrils flared, and Bradley was curious about what you would do. You were supposed to be going out for drinks with your colleagues and your boss to celebrate Bickel's upcoming promotion. But he knew you hated being late to anything work related, even a happy hour. 

Bradley watched you hesitate, your hands grasping the fabric of your dress where it sat against your thighs. "No!" you said suddenly. "I know how you are, and you do this to me all the time!"

"Do what?" he asked, cocking his head like he had no idea what you were talking about.

You sighed. "You make me late for everything, Bradley. Flaunting your appeal right in front of me. But not today, sir!" you said, spinning on your heel. A few minutes later, he heard your car start, and he returned to his workout with a big grin. 

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

Bradley checked himself in the bathroom mirror before he pulled on an old tee shirt for working out. Just a week later, and he was already feeling better. He jogged through the house and let Tramp out into the back yard as he headed for the garage. He could probably squeeze a quick workout in before he needed to shower to leave for the airport. 

He turned on his playlist and got to work, singing along to everything and completely losing track of time. 

"Bradley! I thought you would be in the shower by now!" you said when you strolled into the garage. 

He set his barbell down and turned to face you. "What time is it?"

"Their flight lands in an hour," you told him, strolling closer. You were wearing one of those romper things he both loved and hated. They looked cute, but they were annoying to take off. 

He licked his lips, tasting his own sweat there, and when you got close enough he reached out and grabbed your hand. "We've got time," he said, his voice deep and raspy. 

"Roo," you cautioned, pressing your lips together, but he was already pulling you down to sit on his thigh where he was straddling the bench. "You look good," you whispered, and he grabbed your chin, kissing you hard. 

"Do I?" he asked between kisses. 

"Mmhmm," you hummed. But you were already moaning softly, turning to face him a little more and running your hands up and down his sweaty biceps. He watched you pull away from his mouth, your tongue darting out to taste the sweat that trickled down his cheek. 

Bradley could feel his balls tighten as you pulled your tongue back into your mouth before licking your lips. "You always look good," you added, pulling his shirt off and running your fingers along his flat tummy while you kissed and licked his neck. 

After he made sure all of the weights were locked in place, he turned back to you, tipping you down until you were laying on your back on the bench one leg over each side. "You always look perfect," he whispered, unbuttoning your romper and guiding it carefully down your body, watching you lift your hips so he could remove it. You had skipped a bra, something he was wild about, and he hummed against your skin as he kissed your breasts.

"I wasn't kidding though," you gasped. "I liked your little belly. The precursor to the dad bod looked hot on you."

Bradley wrenched your underwear off and planted kiss after kiss on your pussy as he eased his gym shorts and boxer briefs just low enough to get his dick free. The bench was narrow, and there wasn't a lot of room to work with, but he managed to get himself in a good position to slip into your wet slit. 

"Oh," you gasped, reaching for his shoulders as he leaned over you. 

"Listen, Baby Girl. Whenever you wanna make me a daddy, you just let me know," he told you, moving in a steady rhythm inside you as he planted his hands on your hips for leverage. "I'll give up the abs to spend my time changing diapers instead."

"Oh!" you whined louder, biting your lip. Bradley leaned down to kiss you, and he watched a drop of his sweat land next to your mouth. He was mesmerized by your tongue darting out to taste it.

"Oh fuck, Sweetheart. I'm ready to be a daddy when you want me to be," he promised running his thumbs in soft circles along your pelvic bones as he fucked you a little harder.

"You're already my Daddy," you whispered, and Bradley thought his brain must have shut down. 

His movements came stuttering to a halt just as you started whining for more. And when you looked up at him, your eyes absolutely pleading for him to keep going, you once again whispered, "Daddy?"

Bradley slowly withdrew his dick and slammed himself back into you, never taking his eyes off yours. "Oh!" you gasped. "So you like it when I call you that?"

"Say it again," he growled loudly, fucking into you so hard, the bench moved a few inches across the floor as your tits bounced wildly. He watched your eyes roll back as you moaned Daddy a little louder. 

"Don't stop," he demanded, giving you everything he had left. 

"I won't, Daddy," you cried out. 

Bradley had no idea he would like this so much, but in fact, he fucking loved it. Now he was grabbing your waist so hard, he saw tears in your eyes as you chanted, "DAD-DY! DAD-DY! DAD-DY!" Each syllable you moaned matched perfectly with each thrust he landed.

He came so hard, his teeth were chattering. You were whimpering beneath him, completely disheveled with smeared makeup as you whined and squeezed every drop from his cock. Bradley withdrew himself from you and finger fucked his cum back inside. He leaned over you, teasing your swollen clit and working his semen into you until you were literally crying.

Then he kissed your tears away, his fingers still rammed deep inside your pussy. "Daddy loves you," he promised, as you tried to catch your breath. "You're Daddy's Baby Girl."

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

Bradley drove the Bronco to the San Diego International Airport with an enormous smile on his face. You had your left hand laced with his right, and he was slowly spinning your engagement ring around your finger while he drove. You had your head resting against his bicep while you selected songs from one of your playlists. 

His enormous smile still remained as he parked and helped you out, walking you to the terminal with his arm wrapped around your waist. Your romper was a wrinkly mess, and you still had a small smudge of mascara below your eye, and he knew your pussy was filled with his cum. He fucking loved you.

Sex in the garage had made you late, and your parents were already waiting next to the baggage carousel when the two of you arrived. 

"Oh, honey! Show me your ring!" your mom called as soon as she saw you. Bradley let you out of his grasp as you went to hug them both, and he smiled, because he knew how lucky you were to have both parents here.

Then he almost choked as he heard you greet them, "Mom! Daddy! I missed you."

Bradley shook hands with your father, but he was barely able to make eye contact with him. This was going to be a very long weekend. 

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

Oh, Baby Girl, he loved that so much! Well, stay tuned for A Love You Don't Find Everyday...there will be more of Baby Girl and Daddy Roo and their next adventure!

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#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #rooster x female reader #rooster x reader #top gun fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster fanfic #rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Take Your Time - Evan "Buck" Buckley x Reader

summary: Evan Buckley is getting ready for parent-teacher interviews with the parents of his kindergarten class. He wasn't expecting to hit it off with one of them.

a/n: this is my first 9-1-1 fic (and first non-TGM one in a long time) but I had this idea and after @sarahsmi13s and I discussed it, I went with it!

pairing: teacher!Evan "Buck" Buckley x single mom!reader

warnings/content: mentions of divorce, single parent, Buck getting a crush on reader.

word count: 2k

Evan Buckley let out a heavy sigh as he checked over the schedule he’d made for parent-teacher interviews. Teaching kindergarten was quite the change from the fourth and fifth graders he’d been used to, but so far, the seventeen little darlings in his class had been, for the most part, a refreshing new experience. He’d struggled initially, trying to find ways to entertain a classroom of five year olds, but after a week or two, he’d found his groove, settling in nicely in his new surroundings. The school district he’d transferred to was underfunded, a stark difference from the well-to-do private school he’d worked at for the previous three years, but, he appreciated the change - the private school circuit wasn’t for him, he’d learned, and the longer he stayed, the worse it seemed to feel staying in it. 

Buck looked up at the clock and furrowed his brow. He had exactly 45 minutes before parents and caregivers would start filing in, eager to meet their son or daughter’s new teacher, probably reacting with shock or surprise to learn that a man was teaching kindergarten, like his new co-workers had done when he started. He wasn’t sure what was so strange about the concept, but for some reason, it felt like a lot of people couldn’t wrap their heads around the idea. He sighed as he got up from his desk and headed down the hallway, the sound of his footsteps echoing as he strolled down the empty corridor. 

In the small staff lounge sat a few round tables and aged chairs, upholstered with vinyl and flattened padding, hardly comfortable to sit in for any length of time. On the counter sat a coffeepot that looked to be about as old as Buck was. He’d been hesitant to use it before, questioning both the sanitation and safety of it, but, if he was going to be hosting these interviews until well into the evening, he needed something to get him through the next four and a half hours. He just hoped that coffee would be strong enough. 

Back at the comfortable familiarity of his desk, a mug of burnt, flavourless coffee in hand, he looks around the classroom, surveying the layout in an attempt to determine if he needed to make any last minute changes in the next twenty minutes of free time he had. He sighed, realizing there wasn’t much that could be done to improve the room with the small time-frame and limited budget. Twirling a pen between his fingers, he looked out the window, watching the clouds rolling in the California sky. Focusing his attention for a moment, he looked down at the stack of papers, neatly situated on the desk in front of him. 

“Right,” he said to himself as he started sifting through the papers, ensuring each student was sorted according to the rudimentary schedule he’d made. “You’ve got this, Buck, you can handle it. A dozen and a half kindergarteners and parents. It’s fine.” 

Right on cue, the first parent entered the room at 4 pm, escorting their young daughter in the doorway, ushering her to a seat. Buck stood from his seat for a handshake, awkwardly accepted by the parent. He sat back down and nodded his head. It was going to be a long night.

“Alright, Holly, are you ready to for Mommy to meet your teacher?” you asked your five-year-old as you stood in the hallway outside of her classroom. 

It was later in the evening, the 7:45 slot being the only one you could make work with your hectic work schedule. Holly nodded her head excitedly, tugging on your hand as she tried to pull you into the classroom. You started cycling through a dozen of scenarios in your head, each one playing out how the parent-teacher interview was going to go. You knew very little about your daughter’s teacher, admittedly. You knew a form had come home with Holly on the first day of school, introducing them, but a coffee spill later, that form ended up in the trash before you had a chance to read it.

“Holly!” her teacher smiled warmly, crinkles by his eyes softening as he looked at your daughter. “I’m Mr. Buckley,” he nodded, extending his hand out to you for a handshake. “Mr. Evan Buckley.” He laughed, his cheeks turning red.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Buckley,” you smiled. His grip on your hand was firm, yet gentle. He dropped your hand after holding it a moment longer than he might’ve needed to, before taking his seat at his desk. 

“Please, you can call me Evan,” He nodded, smiling as he took a seat. He gestured to the empty chairs in front of his desk, “Please, have a seat.”

Once seated, Evan folded his hands neatly over the stack of Holly’s school work. A pair of tired baby blue eyes looked at you, meeting yours with a softened expression. You could tell he’d been at the school for hours, probably wishing he’d chosen another career choice at this stage, having been stuck in this building since at least 8 am. His dark blonde hair was neatly brushed back, strands held in place with styling product. His dark green sweater accented his pale skin, cheeks rosy and pink from a little too much sun, the pale blue collar of his dress shirt laying flat against his sweater’s neckline - he somehow looked exactly how you’d imagined a male kindergarten teacher to look, and nothing at all like how you’d imagined all at once. 

“Holly’s an exceptional student,” he began, nodding his head. “She’s always there to help her friends, and she’s been hard at work practicing the letters of her name. She’s been making some great attempts at writing her name.”  

“She has, has she?” You beamed, looking over at Holly, who was now nodding proudly at you. 

Evan produced a few sheets of paper with Holly’s name sprawled across the page in large, clumsy handwriting, on brand for a five-year-old child. He shot Holly a smile, sharing in the pride she’s showing for her work. 

“It’s been a team effort, but Holly’s been able to write it by herself for a few tries. We just needed to figure out which hand she felt most comfortable trying to write with first, right Holly?” He smiled, flashing a row of perfectly straight, white teeth, a smile you’d expect to see on a poster in your dentist’s office. 

Holly nodded her head in agreement as you and Evan continued to discuss Holly’s progress in school, how you’d been struggling the past six months since her dad walked out, and how you were relieved to hear that it hadn’t impacted her performance in school. 

After what only felt like a few seconds of discussion, you looked over to see Holly yawning, her eyelids looking heavy with exhaustion. The clock on the wall said 8:20 pm - your meeting had gone 20 minutes over the scheduled time, and now, Holly would be getting to bed later than usual.  Quickly, you stood up, shaking hands with Evan once again. 

“It was nice meeting you, thank you for being so supportive of Holly and helping her settle into school.” You started, nodding your head. “I really appreciate it.”

Buck let out a sigh, the clink of metal keys against the ceramic dish on the table by the door echoing throughout his quiet apartment. It was 9pm on a Friday, and instead of going out with his friends, like most late twenty-somethings, he’d be tucked in on the couch within the next five minutes, takeout containers scattered across his coffee table. He set the paper carry bags on the counter while he rummaged around the kitchen for a clean fork. He knew he should have run the dishwasher before he left that morning, but in his hurry to make it to school early enough to allow time to set up for meeting parents all evening, he’d forgotten half a dozen things he’d planned on doing. 

Settling for a plastic fork that he’d found in the back of a drawer, likely stored away from a previous takeout meal, he grabbed his food and sunk down into his couch, a heavy, exhausted sigh drawing from his lips. He began tucking into his dinner, tv remote in the other hand as he shoveled veggie fried rice into his mouth. Sports highlights droned on in the background, something about how the World Series was progressing, two teams Buck didn’t care enough about to pay attention to battling it out for the championship. 

As he flipped through the channels, he found himself unable to focus his attention on anything. Well, almost anything. 

The only thing his mind could focus on was the last parent interview he’d had for the night. The one with Holly’s mother - a newly single mom who was trying her best, but had to balance a hectic work life with an impending divorce and a five-year-old. 

“Thank you for being so supportive of Holly and helping her settle into school, I really appreciate it.” 

The woman’s voice echoed in his head, her gratitude evident on her face as she spoke. Buck couldn’t help but feel his heart swell with joy when he heard how she spoke so positively - a welcome change from the disdain and boredom he was met with from the vast majority of parents he spoke to. Blank stares and uninterested nods, “mhmm”s and a couple of “why are we even doing this? It’s kindergarten.” – but not with you. 

With you, it was entirely different. Smiling and laughing as you talked, a sense of concern for you washing over Buck as he listened to your concerns about Holly’s transition into school now that your ex-husband had taken off. As he watched you talk, the prettiest set of eyes he’d ever seen fixed on him, your perfect pink lips pursing into the sweetest pout he’d ever seen as you thought, mulling over what Buck was telling you about Holly, dewy, sun-kissed skin accented beautifully by your floral print dress, a light, acid-washed denim jacket draped over your shoulders, framing your figure like a work of art. 

The next morning, Buck rubbed his bleary eyes, blinking a couple of times to orient himself. He’d fallen asleep on the couch, again. It wasn’t unusual for him lately, most nights he ended up dozing off before he made it to bed, but usually, he woke up in the middle of the night, making a tired stumble up the stairs to the loft of his apartment where his bed awaited.

He frowned as he looked around the room, sunlight pouring into the living room, washing everything in a bright, golden glow. He sat up on the couch, eyes scanning the room for his phone. He reached down behind a couch cushion, pulling it out with a tired grunt as he stretched muscles that had tensed through the night. His blonde eyebrows furrowed at the time, sighing as he realized the time. He settled back down in the cushions, scrolling aimlessly on social media, trying to catch up on updates he’d missed from friends from past week.

Buck froze when he saw one of the pictures, shared last Saturday, a familiar face smiling at him from the screen. He checked who posted it –- the girlfriend of a friend of his – and his eyes widened as he saw the name of the person tagged. Confirmation that it was, in fact, you. His palms began to feel clammy as he realized you were a friend of a friend, that, if he’d gone out with his friends last weekend, he would have met you under different circumstances, shared a couple of drinks, and, maybe, invited you back to his place if you were interested. 

Now, however, things were complicated. 

Dating the parent of a student wasn’t entirely forbidden, was it?

#evan buckley x reader #evan buckley #buck x reader #buck 911 #buck #evan buckley 911 #evan buck buckley #evan buckley x you #evan buckley x y/n #buck x you #buck x y/n #evan buck buckley x reader #evan buck buckley x you #evan buck buckley x y/n #911 fic #911 fanfic #9 1 1 #9 1 1 fanfiction

[divinehedons]

i won't hurt you.

navigation: masterlist

word count: ~1.9k words

summary: you meet joel in the aftermath of a terrible accident. reeling from the aftermath of the event, there is a looming shadow that complicates your relationship with the southern man you just somehow happened to meet 

warnings: explicit (but not graphic) content–MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! relatively dark(?)-ish joel miller, allusions to smut (not heavily detailed), graphic depictions of injury, some scenes include hospitalization (not in graphic detail), dubious consent, joel miller radiates mansplain / manipulate / malewife energy, men are trash in general wbk

note: oh. my. god. it has been far too long and i’m so so very sorry for just now coming back! i’ve hit a terrible writer’s block alongside very bad mental health and i’m just now recovering :’D thank you so so so much for 800 followers, it’s going to take a while for me to respond to everyone but i’ll be going through them! i love you very very dearly, mwah!

note 2.0: pls pls lower your expectations, 🫣 i am trying to get back into the groove of things!

You remember the screech of tires on frozen asphalt. A flash of headlights. Spinning, spinning, spinning. Your body ignited in pain. Then… darkness.

Darkness that seemed to spread before you for an eternity. Untethered and stuck in limbo, perhaps in another universe, you would call it the most peaceful slumber of your life. The misfortune comes when you wake. Lightning strikes shake you awake from the darkness of your subconsciousness. Electricity trembling in your chest as it shoots through your beaten frame. A light peers through your closed eyes. Brighter, and brighter… bigger and bigger. A ringing in your ears that almost deafens you.

The world shifts around you, and you wake paralyzed, staring at the ceiling in the warm sun that falls on your body lying there. Everything hurts. There is a humming in your head that you cannot seem to shake out of.

The solitude lasts for a beat. Then another. That’s when you see him.

A sleepless, roughened man looking at you with his warm eyes. Through the bleary vision of your own gaze, a shaky breath escapes him. His crinkled eyes looking over your features with a swift once over.

“Oh, Christ, you’re awake.”

And that’s how you met Joel.

–

In the week that followed your complicated recovery, Joel tells you he saw the crash. Tells you the asshole who ran you over was nowhere to be seen. He says most of it with his eyes averted. Yet you hold your gaze.

You will not be weakened by the shame of your misery.

It is two days later when you confess to him; your throat still rasping as the pain in your head boils and toils beneath your skull. You look at him when he arrives, paint-stained shirt providing evidence of a messy day of working. “I don’t want to think about what happened to me anymore, Joel.”

Your tongue grabs at words the way young children do with sticky fruit in the summer. As if language has become foreign to you.

Joel, keys in hand, meets your gaze with a furrowed brow. “Sure, sugar. Whatever you need.”

Maybe your eyes were tricking you, but you could’ve sworn you saw his shoulders relax from some kind of tension leaving his body.

–

Joel doesn’t know what he had gotten himself into. What he does know is that for some reason, he couldn’t bear the idea of staying away from you. You tell him fragments of what little you remember, your concussed consciousness blindly clawing at every last bit of beaten brain matter for some kind of answer. 

You sometimes cry from the effort it takes you to think, but he’s there. The first few times, he held your hand. As the hours bled into days, he held you as you wet his shirt with warm tears. Sometimes, when the nightmares reach him in his own bed a few miles out from the hospital, it feels like you’re bleeding into him.

From the moment he saw you, he had been marked. And no matter how many times he scratched at his own skin, he could never wash away the blood on his hands.

–

He’s the one to take you home to your quiet little apartment, having grown dust in your absence. You apologize, he waves you off. He watches you as you peer out of the window, comprehending a view that had once been so mundane, transformed into some shred of a miracle for you to still be there, witnessing it all. He’s behind you, ten feet away, tilting his head as your hair catches what little sunlight blessed you the day you left the hospital.

He says your name, and you look back at him with a curious smile. “My God,” he followed. “You look just like starlight.” He steps forward, and that’s when you know everything had fallen into place. Without another moment lapsing, he takes your face into his hands, pulling you into a searing kiss.

You apologize so many times. For the hospital smell on your skin. For your trembling knees. For the dizzying sensation of human contact without the involvement of medical processes. For feeling so unclean.

Meanwhile, he apologizes, too. For kissing you. For pulling you to him. For holding you. For carrying you to the forlorn couch grown cold from the absence of human warmth. So many times that there are times that you don’t know what is there to apologize for. You shake your head each and every time.

The tears roll down your cheek just as he pulls away and his eyes immediately soften. You shake your head, pulling him into another kiss as you whine.

There are many things you want to tell him. But you don’t dare tell him this: Sometimes being offered tenderness feels like the very proof that you have been ruined.

“Tell me to stop, honey, and I will,” he murmurs, holding your cheek as you pause between touches. You shake your head immediately. You want many things. You are hungry and untamed. But you do not want him to stop.

You tell him as much. “Joel, don’t you dare stop.”

And he doesn’t. Not when you’re naked and he sees your bruised skin, purple and yellowed in places. He looks to you just as your body tenses. His demeanor softens, kissing along your jaw and your neck with a shaky breath.

“I won’t hurt ya, darlin’.”

He keeps to that promise. Even when your legs are around his waist and he’s caught in your warmth. He says it again and again as you whine into the cool, quiet solitude of your home.

I won’t hurt you, I won’t hurt you.

–

Falling in love with Joel was both so complicated and so simple at once. Whenever you wake beside him, you wake up writhing from the pain of your injuries; sometimes crying from the nightmares that followed every waking moment. You felt marred by shame for putting so much of your perceived burden on his shoulders. He never departs from your side, his strong arms placating you while his lips press against your temple.

It’s all so simple, the way he cares about you. And whether or not you admitted it, you like the feeling of being cared for. Of having someone that cares.

Regardless, you cannot escape the fact that someone did this to you. And whenever the pain shocks your body, everything but rabid rage escapes your body. You curse the stranger, whoever they may be, for that cursed night.

Joel sees glimpses of this. He saw it most that one afternoon when the hospital called, saying you had been taken care of. By who, they didn’t say. Only that the stranger apologized for what happened.

You were on the floor, hands trembling in the fists you held them in. The hospital bill crumpled a few inches away. You do not see him. What you see is all red.

A wail escapes your trembling mouth just as your hands claw at anything they can touch. It is an uncontrollable surge of blinding, mouth-foaming, unbridled rage. He’s there, trying to hold you down before you hurt yourself. Each wail pierces another hole into his aching heart. Each struggle followed by his gentle shushing, trying to assuage you in the crest of your emotion.

“Whoever it was,” you told him then as you sobbed. “They ruined my life.”

“Darlin, darlin’...” He breathes in, cupping your face. “Maybe he’s around and he regrets-”

“No!” You claw at him, just as he holds you tighter against his chest. “If he could find me, then he could say it to my face. He wouldn’t be some coward who left me alone like this after he ruined my life!”

It destroys him. And you can see it in his face. All he can do is hold you as you cry against his chest. All he can do is shut his eyes, letting the waves of grief crest over and over your frame. Letting your sobs tear him open and burn him out.

He tells you nothing lasts forever. That he’ll be there for as close to forever as possible. You shake your head because you know better. He says nothing lasts forever. He doesn’t know he’s just afraid your pain can last longer than he is capable of loving you.

–

Perhaps, to the end of his days, Joel will regret that drunken night. He’ll regret following his bleary gaze through the quiet, sleet-slick roads. He’ll regret the fact that he couldn’t have stopped his truck sooner.

When he steps out into the cold just as he smells the acrid scent of burning tires, he sees your bloodied face in your car. So small. So undeserving. He muttered a string of cusses. The sudden shock of adrenaline washing away the last of his drunkenness. He looks back at his truck, horrifically beaten, his gaze doubling from his last bout of drunkenness.

He bargains that night. Calls up someone high up amongst the police rank to bail him out. He negotiated for ten minutes. Then he hides the truck somewhere off the side of the road for him to come back to and dispose of. And then, only then, did he call for help.

Only then did he reach you in the driver’s seat, blood now caked to your skin as he lay you out amongst the concrete.

You make some sound, and he cusses to himself.

His rough palms cup your cheek, trying to get you to look at him then. But you were too far gone.

He spoke, anyway. Just in case you’ll hear it.

“It’s alright, doll. I won’t hurt you.”

Even now, weeks after he stole your life from you, he holds you and tells you the same thing anyway. The same set of words that manage to calm you down.

He does love you. And it breaks him every day to know he was the one to endanger you.

I won’t hurt you, I won’t hurt you.

#circe writes #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller angst #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut

[lcvejoy]

speak now

wilbur soot x gn!reader

tw!: alcohol, throwing up, angst? hurt/comfort. kinda makes no sense; not proofread.

word count: 1,336

a/n: i hate this but i rlly just wanted to post bc i miss it. more stuff coming! this is just to get me back into the groove of writing and sharing lol. clearlyyyy i write too much angst im sorry i just thrive in it. ill write more fluff! expect more!

wilbur is lying on the vinyl kitchen flooring when he calls.

he’s wine drunk and crying like an overtired toddler. wails of grief and laboured breaths, clutching his phone with one hand and gripping his hair with the other. the cold surface of the floor giving him some relief for his overheated body.

“hey, you’ve reached y/n! i must be super busy, but leave a message and i’ll get back to you when i can!” he’s heard that voicemail hundreds of times this week. he loves hearing your voice, even if only through a phone speaker.

“baby?” he sniffles, wiping his snot on his sleeve, “hey darling, hey y/n.”

a shaky breath, “listen i-“ he looks at at the ceiling, silently cursing himself, “i need you to tell me where you are, okay?” he catches a sob before it escapes, trying to display strength. “we’re all so worried about you. i-i’m so worried about you.” he’s dizzy, the room is spinning now. he reaches his hand out to lay flat against the floor in an attempt to steady himself.

“just call me. or text one of us. anyone. w-we just want to know you’re okay.” wilbur can no longer hide his misery. his voice is wobbly and it cracks at the beginning of each sentence.

“i love you, y/n. i-i love you so much it hurts.” he begins to feel the bile rise in his throat, “come home, okay?” he hangs up. he gets up from the floor on shaky legs, stumbling his way to the bathroom, and lets out of the contents of his stomach. he’s coughing and spitting, hugging the toilet and resting his head on the side of the seat.

he flushes the toilet and scoots back to lay his back against the opposite wall. he leans his head back, closing his eyes, before crumbling again. loud sobs, fat tears, hiccups and laboured breaths. the pain and grief hits him like a train.

there was an argument between you two the night you left. he hasn’t seen you since, and nobody has heard from you. your phone, however, has remained on - proven by the fact that wilbur has been able to leave you voicemails and each of his texts deliver. both, however, go unanswered and unread.

he is riddled with guilt - his brain playing every possible scenario. hurt, kidnapped, murdered, lost, alone. although, his hopeful side prays you’re at your parents house and you just don’t want to talk to anyone.

he picks up his phone and calls again. he leaves more voicemails. he does this for hours until he’s sober with a pounding headache and a broken heart.

until, finally, “wilbur, please stop calling.”

you answer. he’s frozen, sitting up from his leant over position quickly.

“y/n?” he’s convinced he’s hallucinating, that this isn’t real, that you didn’t actually pick up your phone.

“i’m fine, wil. i’m safe. please stop calling and go to sleep.” you seem annoyed, your voice is heavy with exhaustion; like he’s woken you up multiple times with his constant calls.

“w-where are you?” he’s frantic.

“i’m safe.” you respond, sternly.

“stop calling, wil.” it comes out like a warning.

“are you going to come back?” he asks, the emotions bubbling in his gut, “please, y/n. please come home.”

he hears you sigh. he holds his breath as he waits for your answer.

“i’m sorry i worried you” you began, “i just needed some space. i’m coming home in a couple days.”

wilbur falls apart with relief. he cries without the pain and grief present.

“we will talk more about it when i come back. just-“ you pause.

“just give me some space, okay? get some sleep.” you speak gently.

he nods, wiping the tears spilling down his cheeks.

“i love you” he sobs.

“i love you, too” you whisper. you hang up, and wilbur cries more.

two days later, wilbur hears keys jingling at his front door as he sits on the couch. he rises to his feet so quickly that he stumbles slightly, nearly tripping. he watches the lock switch, the door handle twist, and the door begin to slowly swing open. he’s frozen as he watches, wide-eyed.

you walk in, a small bag in hand. you haven’t yet noticed wilbur’s presence as you lock the door and remove your shoes, setting your bag down on the floor next to you.

finally, you look up. you freeze upon meeting wil’s eyes. you both stand there - staring in each others eyes, mouth slightly agape, feet planted in place.

wilbur’s mouth opens as if he’s going to say something, but the words get caught in his throat. he gulps, feeling the emotions rise to his eyes.

“hi wil” you break the silence with a small whisper.

his lip quivers, a tear falls down his cheek.

“hi” his voice cracks as he whispers back.

there’s a beat of silence as you both remain solid in your places. wilbur is silently crying, staring at you. you can feel your eyes welling with tears as you speak again; “i’m sorry i left” you begin, “i just needed some space. i should’ve told you where i was going. that was incredibly selfish of me.” you look down, your fingers anxiously playing with the hem of your shirt. you swallow before beginning again, “it killed me to not talk to you, but we both needed time apart.” you look up to meet wilbur’s eyes again. he has tears steadily streaming down his cheeks, his mouth is slightly open. you are finally taking in just how broken he looks; his hair is a mess, he has dark eye bags as if he hasn’t slept since the night you left, his skin is pale and dry. you feel like the shittiest human being on earth for having caused him this pain. you quickly wipe the tear that falls from your eye.

wilbur gulps again before speaking in a hushed voice and broken tone; “i never want to go that long wondering if you’re okay again. w-wondering if i’ll ever see you again. i-“ a choked sob leaves his lips. he breathes deeply before continuing, “i was s-so scared that the only time i would ever hear your voice again was through your voicemail message.”

you can’t stop the tears from flowing down your cheeks as he speaks. you nod as you look down.

“i’m so sorry” you crumble, both of you letting out soft sobs and hitches of sharp breaths.

“let me hold you” wilbur speaks up, “please, l-let me hold you.”

all you can do is nod. the words won’t form. so you do; you nod as he quickly steps forward.

and as he reaches you, he pulls you into him. his hands wrap themselves around your middle as his head buries into your neck. you wrap your arms around his neck and pull your face into his chest, breathing him in. you can feel his hot tears on your skin and his body jump as he lets out quiet sobs.

you stand there, in the living room of your shared apartment, holding each other and crying together for an unmeasurable amount of time. until eventually, the sobbing subsides and all that is heard is sniffles.

wilbur pulls away from the hug and instead, brings his hands to your face and rests his forehead against yours. you hold his forearms and close your eyes. you missed this - you missed being close to him, feeling him, smelling him. you missed him.

he missed you equally as much.

“never again” he whispers, as his thumbs begin moving against your cheeks.

“never again” you repeat in an equally quiet voice.

you both smile slightly. wilbur moves his head up to leave a long, lingering kiss on your forehead before returning his forehead to yours.

a silent vow of forgiveness, a silent vow of “i’m sorry.”

and yet, there is a quiet but heard vow of a promise to never let this happen again.

#wilbur soot #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot fic #dsmp x reader #mcyt x reader #mcyt x y/n #mcyt #wilbur x you #wilbur x y/n #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot angst

[r2d2lover]

The Truth Slips Pt. 2

Paring: Fred Weasley X Reader

Rating: E

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Public sex. Unprotected sex. Blowjobs.

Summary:

Request: can you write a part 2 where they explore some more of reader’s fantasies?

Fred decides to act on a fantasy that you divulge to him while under the influence of Veritaserum.

(Quick little library moment while I try to get back into the writing groove)

Fred secretly liked the covert meetings between you and him. He liked how your face would turn bright red when he would whisper something filthy in your ear while passing classes, but his favorite was when he’d catch you staring at him during Potions or in the library. He’d send a smirk or a wink back towards you, making you cough in embarrassment and go back to ferociously writing notes. He liked the mystery you kept about yourself regarding him and he was determined to make you crack. Fred thought about that night with the Veritaserum often, especially about the hidden fantasies you held about him. He knew about what you thought about while the two of you were in the library and he was waiting for the perfect moment to catch you off-guard.

The library was abuzz during the finals season, and you and Fred joined the ranks of other Hogwarts students cramming in last-minute studying before winter break. Unfortunately (or rather, fortunately), the Potions exam was the last scheduled practical for the school, meaning that the both of you had to stay behind while your peers started filtering out for winter break. For Fred, this provided an opportunity to take advantage of the growing emptiness of the library. As the end of the week neared, the library’s population had waned to host only those taking N.E.W.T-level Potions and even then, most of the other students were focused on the practical part of the exam and were probably studying in the dungeons. Fred had managed to convince you to do the practical exercise first so that you two could “study better” in a quieter library at the end of the week. On the night before the exam, Fred knew his plan had worked out perfectly.

You were strictly no-nonsense about your studying, but as the two of you approached hour two of studying, Fred could see you were getting antsy and needed a study break. 

“I don’t understand the difference between these two ingredients,” You sighed exasperatedly, leaning in closer to Fred. He chuckled and pulled out his notes, showing you what he had written down. You leaned in so close that he could smell your shampoo and he clenched his fist in a feeble attempt to restrain himself. 

“Gods, it was right in front of me,” You curse, going back to your notes.

“We’ve been at this for hours now. Maybe we need a little break,” Fred suggested, waiting for your gaze to meet his.

“Mmm, give me a second,” You said without looking up. Fred shifted in his chair so that he sat closer to you and placed a hand on your bare knee. The gesture definitely caught your attention and you looked up at him with a stunned expression. Fred mentioned something about a break again, slowly sliding his hand up your thigh.

“Fred! There’s still people around,” You stammered, placing your hand over his. 

“Oh, please. Our corner is empty. And if I remember correctly, isn’t this something that you always thought about?” Fred smirked, making you turn a deep scarlet. You reluctantly loosened your grip on his hand, making Fred chuckle. He slid his hand further up your skirt until he could practically feel the heat radiating from your core. Fred hummed as he looked back at your unfinished notes.

“Don’t let me stop you. Finish what you were writing,” Fred bit his lip, entranced by your ragged breathing. You let out a small yelp when he moved his hand to squeeze your inner thigh and shakily went back to finish the sentence you were working on. Fred continued to drag his hand up with a painfully slow pace until he could hook a teasing finger underneath the waistband of your underwear. He traced the outline of your underwear, keeping his finger hooked. At this moment, you had clenched your thighs together in an attempt for some friction, so Fred used his other hand to open your legs so he could work his finger to your core.

“You like the idea of getting caught, don’t you? It must be nice to finally get one of your fantasies to play out, huh? How naughty,” Fred drawled and on the last word, he dragged his finger through your slick, making you gasp with a jump. Fred placed a small kiss on your neck as he started to rub circles on your clit. You choked back a moan and nervously looked around you, but Fred knew that the back of the library was all his. “Good… you better stay quiet.”

You bit your lip as Fred inserted a finger and he couldn’t help but whisper about how pretty you looked. Each curl proved harder for you to keep quiet and Fred was delighted. The tent in his pants was growing with every head toss that you gave and choked moan that you held back. When he inserted a second finger, the pressure building against his belt was almost unbearable. Fred slowed his fingers, giving you an opportunity to look down at his crotch and you reached a nervous hand across the chair to give him a squeeze. Fred could barely hide his groan and removed his hand from you. You let out a small sigh of dismay, but your demeanor quickly changed as you watched Fred undo his belt and start to unsheathe himself.

“Let me taste you,” You whispered, making Fred’s head spin. He watched dizzily as you got off of your chair and knelt before him under the table. Your movements were a bit apprehensive, but Fred gently guided your hand up and down his shaft, quietly encouraging you to place your mouth upon him. Without hesitation, you licked a thin stripe on the underside of his cock, then slowly wrapped your lips around his sensitive head. Fred let out a low groan and tangled his hands into your hair, pulling you closer. While the start was a bit rocky, you found your rhythm rather quickly and Fred could only throw his head back and focus on keeping quiet. The soft noises of you choking on his length distracted him from where he was. Your other hand twisted around the area that you couldn’t fit into your mouth and the familiar feeling of release was starting to build in Fred’s stomach. He gently pushed you off of him because he wanted the first time that he finished on your face to be an opportunity he could savor and the table was obscuring such a sight. 

“Sit on my lap,” Fred instructed and you happily obliged without second thought. The jitters from earlier were replaced by an aroused excitement. “With what you were doing down there, I don’t think I’ll last long.”

You giggled at Fred’s comment and quickly sat up from under the table to his lap. Fred looked around once more to see if anyone had heard the previous actions, but to his satisfaction, nobody bothered to look in the dimly lit back part of the library. Fred placed a firm hand on your ass and moved aside your underwear to insert himself. He encouraged you to sit down and removed his hand to bring your face in closer for a kiss. As you lowered yourself on to him, you let out a rather loud moan into his lips that made him laugh. Fred reminded you to be quiet and you threw your head into his shoulder.

“Fuck,” You whispered with a hiss into his ear. Fred grunted as he moved his hands to your hips, facilitating the movement up and down. He could barely keep quiet, especially since you were mumbling filth into his ears. When you understood the movement, Fred removed one of his hands to trail towards your clit. The sensation made you bury your head further into his neck and your restrained whimpers sent a sweet vibration through his body.

“Fred, I think I’m close,” You attempted to whisper but your breath hitched as your assumption was correct. Fred steadied your bucking hips when he felt your walls tighten around him and he felt his own vision start to blur. You leaned into his ear close, rambling his name as your thighs started to shake.

“Love, fuck, can I finish inside of you?” Fred asked quickly, teetering on the edge of his own release.

“Y-yes, fill me,” You said lazily and your words were just what Fred needed. He leaned forward, biting the soft skin of your collarbone to silence himself as he finished, making you yelp in surprise. You shakily climbed off of his lap, breathing still ragged. Fred could feel the sweat on his forehead slicking his hair back. He regained his composure before shooting a grin at you.

“We’ll have to get cleaned up before we get back to studying,” Fred teased, reaching over to smooth down your hair.

“In the prefect bath?” You asked with a glint in your eyes. Gods, there was no way that you were serious.

“Ah, another one of your fantasies?” Fred joked, biting his lip as he watched you quickly gather up your things.

“Why don’t you find out?” You teased uncharacteristically. 

“I’ve created a monster,” Fred replied, letting you pull him towards the Faculty Wing without protest.

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley smut #veritaserum #fred weasley fic

[son-of-a-top-gun]

Sky's the Limit (part 2)

hello everyone, so glad you all enjoyed part one so much - thought you deserved a little treat in the form of the next chapter and some juicy lore..

warning: some evidence to the canon that Bob fucks, mention of infinite jest, Jake flirting with anything that moves, the usual

Sky's the Limit part 2

part one

Part of the deal of getting to stay with Penny for free was occasionally helping behind the bar when she was short-staffed, or more importantly, when she had a hot date with Pete.

You had to borrow one of her old Hard Deck t-shirts, which was a little bit too snug for your liking, but you had to make do. Besides, it was a welcome break from the blank screen you had spent the last week looking at. Talking to real people, maybe that’s where inspiration will come from.

****

When Jake walks into the bar, he is determined. He is absolutely exhausted and he needs to get back into his groove, when he immediately notices it. Behind the bar there is a girl wiping down the far end, with her back turned to him. She’s in a pair of pretty short shorts and a quite snug Hard Deck t-shirt, and she’s clearly new. This should be easy.

“Could I get a drink? I’m terribly thirsty over here.” He says in the deepest, sultry Southern tone he can get.

The girl turns around, and Jake’s face drops.

It’s you, with your hair down and you’re not wearing your glasses. He swallows and subtly readjusts himself. 

“Really Bagman? That’s the best you’ve got?”

He puffs his chest a little. “I’m surprised you can even tell it’s me from over there. I’m pretty sure that’s a safety hazard.”

“I’ve got contacts in, dumbass. Although I don’t need my glasses to know a sore loser when I see one.”

“And I would have thought that bar work is below such a worthy scholar like yourself.”

“I’m helping Aunt Penny. She’s got a date with Pete. Or wait, you guys call him Maverick.” Jake nods. You look at his hands. “Corona right?”

Jake is taken slightly aback. “Yeah, that’s right.” You pull out a bottle and open it.

He takes a swig, before yawning. “Hot date, eh? That’s good for some.”

“Tell me about it.” You say without thinking, before correcting yourself. “I can’t believe the great Bagman isn’t constantly inundated with women throwing themselves at him.” He looks at you in a way that makes you feel very exposed all of a sudden. “I mean, in spite of your terrible pick up lines.”

“Yeah, well I’m not going to waste my good ones on you am I?” Jake regrets it a little the moment he says it, but you carry on wiping glasses, seemingly unaffected.

“I’m just saying they could probably do with an edit or two.”

“You’re going to give me tips, are you? Thanks but no thanks.” He leans over the bar. “I’m doing just fine, thank you.” He catches a whiff of whatever perfume you’re wearing. Damn, if it doesn’t smell good.

You lean back and raise your hands up. “Alright, good luck then. I need to get back to work.” 

Jake wants to think of a witty retort but you’re already gone. He picks up his beer and walks over to the pool table where the other pilots are waiting. He doesn’t know why he feels hot, but he hopes it will go away. It has to go away, right?

***

“Earth to Hangman?” Tash waves her hand in front of his face. “It’s your turn.” She’s still holding the darts.

“Oh right, sure.” He tries to focus on the board, throwing his darts even quicker than usual.

“It’s annoying you’re still good at that when you’re clearly not even paying attention.” Tash huffs.

Jake looks over to you as you serve one of the older gentlemen.

“So what do we know about this ‘Ladybug’?” He asks, still not prising his eyes away.

“Great, Hangman has a crush.” Tash swats his arm. “I like this one Jake, I’m not letting you drive her away.” 

“I’m not going to. Besides, she’s Penny’s niece so she’s not going anywhere.” He turns to her and Bob, who is looking at his phone. “But there’s something odd about her right?”

“You’re just saying that because she doesn’t immediately want to jump your bones, Bagman.”

Bob keeps looking at his phone. He had in fact looked her up after your last conversation. He did find it odd that you had clearly already finished your pHD because he had already read your thesis, which had already been published. However, it was rare he had something over Jake, and he liked you, so he decided to say nothing. He wasn’t sure what you were working on, but whatever it was, he was sure it was your business.

Jake needed to work for this one.

Bob looks at Jake, who is intently watching as a skinny guy in glasses and some faded band t-shirt leans over, talking to you. You lean in, your arms slightly squeezing your chest towards him. Unbeknownst to anyone, Jake feels himself getting hot again all of a sudden. This scrawny little rat? Really? He downs his beer.

“Anyone want another drink?”

****

You return to the bar and look around. Cute Glasses Guy is nowhere to be seen.

“Bagman, did you see where that guy went?”

“What guy?” Jake twiddles with his toothpick, desperately avoiding eye contact. You look him over.

“You know exactly which guy. Where did he go?”

“I don’t know.”

“You are a terrible liar.” You cross your arms. “What did you say to him?”

Jake finally turns to look at you.

“Look, you’re better off without him. He was about two minutes away from telling you how much he loved Infinite Jest. “

“Well at least he could probably read it, unlike you. I’m surprised you even know who David Foster Wallace is.”

“I’m full of surprises. Unlike him. You do not want a guy who dresses like he got lost in a vintage store in Portland, and wants you to invest in his startup to help buy polaroids for orphans.”

You cross your arms.

“So what guys do I want exactly? Big hunky pilots who think they are God’s gift to women? I’m fine, thank you.” You get back to cleaning the bar.

“You think I’m hunky.”

“Shut up.”

“I mean, what’s wrong with me anyway? Most girls would kill for this.”

You couldn’t help but grin. It really did irk him that you weren’t falling for his act.

“Sorry babe, but you’re not my type.”

“Then tell me, who is?”

You scan the bar. You looked over at the pilots clustered around the pool table. 

“Oh my god, it’s not Rooster is it?”

“As much as I would love to say that, him and my sister have history.” You clap your hands over your mouth. “Wait, I’m not supposed to say that.” You turn to him. “How good are you at keeping secrets?” He seems to mull it over.

“Hangman, I’m being serious.”

He rolls his eyes before miming zipping his lips shut. “I am a gentleman of my word. I promise I won’t, even if it will kill me. Besides, I don’t even know who your sister is.”

“And I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Do you honestly think I just sleep with every single woman I lay my eyes on?”

“Yes. Especially if they are more beautiful, successful, glamorous versions of me.”

“I doubt that.” You tilt your head at him. He looks curiously soft, until he realises your look, and he looks away, taking a sip of his beer. “But let me know when she’s in town.” You whip him with the dish cloth you’re holding.

“Gross, Jake.” Jake’s eyebrow perked up. You used his real name. He wanted to celebrate but his curiosity got the better of him.

“So who is your type then?”

You looked back at the table.

All the pilots were ridiculously good looking, it was like a casting director had chosen every single one of them to make you nervous. But as you swept through, you could see one particular pilot looking at his phone smiling.

“Bob.”

“Bob? Are you kidding?”

“No? He’s tall, handsome, smart and a real gentleman.” You lean forward. “And he fucks.”

“Ew, what, gross. Where are you even getting that from?”

“Women’s intuition.” You tap your nose. Jake looks at you disbelievingly. “Also he has a hickey right at the bottom of his neck, just poking out of his collar, and what looks like” You take another look over. “Bruises and nail marks on his arms.” 

“How the hell can you see that from over there?” 

“I’ve got good observation skills.”

“Does that come in handy with your thesis?”

“Sometimes.” 

Jake leans forward.

“So if you’ve come to this conclusion, why don’t you ask him out then?” Jake huffs.

“He is also definitely seeing someone Jake, don’t be stupid.”

“Okay, now you are having me on.”

“Why is it so hard for you to believe someone like Bob could have a girlfriend? Do you think because someone wears glasses and likes books they are doomed to be unfuckable losers? That they should be grateful for any single morsel of attention they receive because who knows what will turn up?”

“That’s not what I meant Ladybug-”

You point at him.

“You don’t get to call me that.”

“Look, I’m -”

“Hey Hangman!” Javy waves a cue, “you promised us a game remember?”

Jake turns back to you, but you are gone, serving someone else at the bar.

***

Jake walks back to the pool table, where Bob is still looking at his phone smiling.

“Who are you messaging?”

Bob’s head snaps up, and he puts his phone behind his back.

“Er-what, no, I mean no one. Just looking at a - a - a- meme, that’s all.”

“Goddammit.” He turns back to you at the bar where you are talking to another customer.

“Jake-”

“Look Bob, remember we share any good memes on the chat. That’s what good squad members do.” He sees Bob’s shoulders visibly relax. At this point Nat sidles up to him.

“Hey, I realised where her name sounds familiar.”

“Oh really?”

“Her dad is Admiral Y/N.” Jake’s eyebrows raised so far they almost flew off his forehead. 

“That guy? The one who -”

“Yeah. That one.”

Your dad was famous throughout the entirety of Top Gun for being perhaps the biggest hard ass there was. He was known to give recruits 200 pushups for just looking at him wrong. He even scared Jake’s dad. Jake couldn’t imagine what he would do if anyone dared to touch his daughter. But something still didn’t make sense. Usually he could tell Navy brats a mile off but Jake knew this was different. You hadn’t even given the slightest hint who you were. This game had just gotten a little more dangerous, and a lot more interesting.

part three

----

@burningwitchprincess

@cornishkat

#jake seresin x y/n #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #hangman top gun #top gun hangman #top gun fanfiction #bob fucks #bob floyd #top gun maverick #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman x you #jake hangman imagine #jake hangman fic

[maitanii]

3:00 AM | RAN HAITANI

CONVERSATIONS IN BED were always like this, quiet and soft, though Rindou still hadn't been back since he'd left for the night and you two had nobody to bother. Habits. Two fingers traced figures and drawings indecipherable for you on your back. The only light that entered the room were the weak rays emitted by the moon. But Ran didn't need light to know where the three moles that decorated your skin and the funny scar that marked your shoulder were located.

“Did you know that years ago I wanted to have blue hair?”

The laugh that your boyfriend released resounded in your hair, where he rested his head and left soft kisses from time to time. As the laughter subsided, his voice echoed through the room.

"Are you kidding me?"

You thought about your teen years. About  the fights with your parents because you wanted to make a couple of decisions that you later found out were stupid. About the fall down the stairs when you were wearing those heels that you still hadn't gotten used to wearing. About that boy your friends warned you not to get too close to.

“No.I wanted to have a different image than the one I had back then.”

Leaning up on your elbows, you looked at Ran from your new position. Wisps of hair scattered across the pillow and fell down his tattooed chest like a waterfall. Aphrodite had favorites.

The boy closed his eyes and began to caress your arm. He thought of his adolescence. About Tenjiku. About Rindou crying the first time he saw him almost bald in juvie. About his mother kicking him out of the house with tears running down her pale cheeks. Ran unconsciously pouted when he was about to say something important. You squeezed his cheeks between your fingers.

“What is my dear Rapunzel thinking?”

“My hair”

At his words, you caressed a lock of hair that ran through the groove of the tattoo that decorated his skin.

“I think you would be gorgeous with short hair”

Sometimes Ran felt like he was like Samson. Perhaps if his hair was cut again it would lose its strength. It was the characteristic that made him stand out, his strong point. He had vague memories of sitting on his mother's lap for her to comb his hair, which was beginning to grow longer. His father wasn't too excited to have a son with such long hair, but his mother always told him when they were alone to take care of his hair.

Ran raised the corners of his lips as he watched your disheveled hair fall over your forehead. Bringing a hand to your cheek, he began to pick up strands and tuck them behind your ear.

"Do you really think short hair would look good on me?

Complimenting Ran was a double-edged knife, because he would always repeat your words half an hour later. But there was something in his eyes that told you he needed to hear something like this coming from you.

"Oh Ran" Sitting on the bed, you pointed at him with your hands. "You could be bald, you could have a thousand gray hairs, you could have a thousand split ends, and still you would be the most beautiful person in the world.

A laugh escaped his throat again making his Adam's apple disappear every time he made a sound. You smiled.

"Then it’s worthless to talk about this anymore" Rising up to stand beside you, he stroked the knuckles of your hand one by one "I’m going to get my phone really quick, I want to do something"

3 WEEKS LATER, and just one day after his 25th birthday, Ran Haitani walked out of the hair salon holding a plastic bag, feeling a cold breeze on his neck and having  a new haircut. He had to send Rindou a photo, but that could wait.

When he closed the car door after getting in, he put the bag on the passenger seat and began to dial your number on his phone.

He couldn't wait to see which surprise you'd like best; his new haircut, or the blue dye he had bought at the salon.

#ran haitani #ran x reader #ran haitani x reader #haitanis #ran #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

01/24/24 OFMD Daily Recap

TLDR; Cast and Crew Sightings with clowning; UK News; Wee John Wednesday; RenewAsACrewUpdates; NewTwitter Resource: @AdoptOurCrew; Pirate Omens Watch Party; LubeAsACrew; The Queerties; Petition Status; Final Notes; Love Notes; Rhys & Rosie's Anniversary;

==Cast and Crew Sightings==

David Jenkins got the clowning going really early this morning with a picture of a red sunrise, playing the song "New York Groove" by Ace Frehley.

There's been a lot of speculation (obviously we don't know what it means for sure) but the current fan theories going around are:

1. "Red Skies In Morning, Sailor's Take Warning" which Djenkins previously posted prior to a new OFMD Trailer being released back in Sept. Thanks @saltpepperbeard!

2. Some folks think that the Red color is to help indicate Netflix as it is very similar to their signature red. @_Irene_Adler

3. Others are going towards the AppleTV route since out in sunnyside queens, there is an Apple building nearby. @skrifores

Do we actually know? Nope, just conjecture, but it left people wanting to target Netflix and AppleTV more today in terms of hashtags. Which is great cause the Pirate Omens Focused on PrimeVideo in the afternoon.

=Con O'Neil Updated his Instagram, and David Fane commented =

==Ruibo Qian also made a profound update on IG==

"Amplifying positive intent toward a paradigm is what solidifies it into live experience".

Take these updates as you will, but one nice thing about being broken apart from Max is we're starting to see the crew reach out again, and all of it seems to be in somewhat of a positive direction.

==More UK News!==

Today’s news from the UK 24 January 2024 - by @lamentus1

We have a date!! The most amazing news! Season 2 will be available to watch in the UK on BBCiPlayer from Monday 4 February!!! The arrival of season two in the UK will give us an opportunity to organise some attention grabbing events around the show. We’ll keep you posted!

=Convention news=

Starfury Conventions is considering holding an Our Flag Means Death convention here in the UK! We need to show how much interest there is in the idea, so make sure you vote in their poll.

Vote here: https://x.com/starfuryevents/status/1750149921880059968 Make sure they know just how interested we are!

**Note from @gentlebeardsbarngrill: If you are avoiding twitter and need someone to log in and for for you, I have lots of extra twitter handles, just shoot me a DM with what answer you wanna choose and I'll vote on your behalf.**

=Previous Access Poll=

After a week and 986 votes the poll is closed and we can confidently state that 36.5% of fans can’t even watch Our Flag Means Death season 2 in their country yet! This is more than a third of the dedicated fandom not even able to watch the second season, and yet look at how passionate we all are about renewal. Imagine how that will grow when the second season is shown in those countries that have missed out so far.

The poll is here: @lamentus1 Are you able to watch Season 2?

While this last piece isn't SPECIFICALLY for the UK, it is being run in UK time zone so may be a bit harder for some US folks to join in.

== Wee John Wednesday is back! ==

EDIT: hey all, my sick brain messed this one up, Kristian announced on twitter he was gonna reboot wee john weds and I went to IG cause I wanted to get the link and apparently linked an old IG post. Sorry about the confusion! It hasnt been announced when it will start yet. Thank you to @wastingyourgum for the correction!

== Renew As A Crew News ===

So I was a little hesitant to post this, but I'd like you to read it and then read my notes below. This was posted in the Renew As A Crew Public Discord (If someone actually has access to that can you please invite me? I can dm you my creds, I'd rather get it from the source then bugging people).

So, essentially, right now they are considering not keeping the Renew As A Crew "brand" if a team internally doesn't step up within the next two weeks. Several volunteers have expressed their concern with this (as Renew As A Crew is already popular and news sites know about it). I have it on good authority that even though this was posted, other volunteers are trying to change that so we can maintain that Renew As A Crew brand. So if you happen to see this floating around -- please understand this is still up in the air-- so please don't lose hope or worry too much about this just yet.

==New Resource Group on Twitter ==

@adoptourcrew on twitter is trying to keep threads available with compiled resources (similar to these recaps and daily task lists) if you are in fact on twitter, they're a good resource for up to date information. There's been some questions on "who are they!" well they're a fan led group (much like the rest of the campaign) and they will not be focusing on collecting money of any kind, they are an information group. They may suggest fundraisers, but as of right now, no money is exchanging hands with them. So please feel free to check them out here.

== Pirate Omens Watch Party ==

Another fun day of watching good omens with Pirates and Omens fans alike. On to Season 2 tomorrow.

== Lube As a Crew ==

Still making waves all. Thanks @_Irene_Adler for posting this

=== The Queerties! ===

If you have a moment, feel free to head over to the queerties page and do some voting for OFMD! It is.. a really long list, and OFMD only qualifies for two (Vico Oritiz and OFMD in general), but if you have a few minutes it'd help out. It'd be great to at least get those two voted for!

Vote

===Petition Status===

We're so very close to 80K all!

== Some Final Notes ==

So something I noticed today is that we're not trending as much across all the platforms. On twitter, AdoptOurCrew was sticking to 30-35K per 24 hr period for several days, but now it's down to about 24K. We're down to #2 on Max, and the engagement score has gone down quite a bit. Now that might seem like a bad thing. That might seem like we're losing momentum. But I'd like to offer a different perspective. People are taking breaks. People are still directing their efforts on making things more efficient, and compiling information. People are doing more with less -- higher quality tweets, instagram messages, etc. I know that tumblr isn't really being counted high in those stats that tv companies look at, but Im seeing more people interact and delve deep into analysis of things and hashtags are being used. But most of all I'm seeing people take breaks, whether it's in the global strike for Palestine, or just taking some time to recoup.

Not every day is going to be record breaking, nor should it be, because if it was, it'd be people-breaking too. Take it from someone who's worked on 8 month long quality assurance projects, you're gonna have some down days, and that's a good thing.

We've done SO much in so little amount of time, and with David Jenkins and Ruibo Qian posting uplifting things...they see everything we've done, and while they can't tell us if S3 has been adopted, they are sending love. I don't wanna read too much into it conspiracy wise, but I've seen David multiple times over the past few days post RIGHT when things are getting chaotic across all the platforms. He's watching and he's rooting for us. Don't give up hope, but take this time to take a break. Relax, do something creative and fun that you love. Come back when you're feeling refreshed. We'll get there.

=== How To Help ===

If you are still out doing things for the campaign, here's a reminder on how to help (This is not a directive but a guide for when you come back) How To Help Save OFMD Task List - US How to Help Save OFMD Task List - Outside US

== LOVE NOTEEEES ==

Did you know that you're beautiful? When I say beautiful I mean the non-gendered version. You're like really beautiful, inside and out. Seriously look at you. I can feel your beauty miles and miles away through a computer screen, that's how friggn beautiful you are! You're just such a great fucking person and you should be proud of that. You're gorgeous, and beautiful in all ways, and you deserve to be happy lovelies. As always, love you crew, rest up tonight/today.

=================

Well apparently today is Rhys an Rosie's 20th Anniversary! So tonight's Rhys picture will feature Rosie and her lovely letter of love to our favorite dude.

#ofmd daily recap #ofmd daily recaps #ofmd #our flag means death #save ofmd #rhys darby #rosie carnahan darby #renew as a crew #save our flag means death #david jenkins #ruibo qian #con o’neill #ofmd uk #queerties #lube as a crew #pirate omens